update to my anti-vaxer email

 I got my latest flu shot yesterday and was happy to do so. (I experienced the flu going into pneumonia a couple of times from 1998 to 2008 and do not want to repeat this).

CNN interviewed a couple of RNs whose reasons for not getting vaccinated struck me a casualty. Their reasons  sounded cobbled together. They were very sincere and upset that some "supporters" were getting their shots and were not standing with these anti-vaxers.

We need all the medical personnel we have and to see these highly experienced people shit canned fired for not getting a simple and safe vaccination strikes me as impossible to understand!

This email is an update to an earlier one.

email to Senators Marshall and Moran I sent this morning

 Email I sent to Senators Marshal and Moran this morning:

I am scared and angry.
During the Trump Administration you were sanguine about bloating the deficit by nearly eight thousand billion dollars. The time has come to start paying this bill. Are you willing to raise taxes on the top 5% and forcing corporations to pay income taxes?
Do you plan on raising the taxes on the middle class including retirees like me?
Perhaps a return to the Income Taxes of Ronald Wilson Reagan for the wealthy people and corporations?
Do not plan on looting Social Security to pay off a small amount of this Federal Deficit. SS is part of the retirement funding my wife and I need to survive.

Name of the book:  The Fallen (another attempt)
          Author:  M.W. Bell
    Type of book:  Sci-Fi

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“The Fallen”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

by

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Michael W. Bell

November 2006

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Index:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      LCDR Eric Randall Bellingham sat at the Science Officer's position monitoring the derelict StarFleet light cruiser and listening to his bridge officer giving the approach orders. The youngofficer, one of his "Passed Midshipmen" gave his orders in textbook fashion but added enoughflare that Eric had hope for him. The USS EDWARD BERRY came to a halt relative to thederelict and the bridge officer turned to LCDR Bellingham and spoke.

      "Sir, we've arrived and are 25 kilometers from the ghost ship. Shall I signal the flag?" (This young man had read too many old Naval novels.)

      "Yes, please do and tell ENTERPRISE we look forward to visiting with them."

      Eric smiled slightly as he heard his bridge officer (under instruction) exchange greetings with the ENTERPRISE's bridge officer and state the BERRY's Captain was standing by.

      Eric opened a window on one of his monitors and drafted a message to the Captain of theENTERPRISE: "John, I look forward to seeing you again! I'm going to see if I can figure thispuzzle out before your son does."

      The reply was "Eric, you should have marked that PRIVATE. My son Data is wondering whomy son is..."

      Eric replied: "PRIVATE MESSAGE FOR CAPTAIN JON-LUC PICCARD: It won't hurt yourson to wonder and he'll figure it out fairly quickly; he is, after all, a very bring man. Please giveme best to your Doctor and head thumper; I really have been doing better lately."

      Piccard replied: "That's good to hear and my son is already scanning the dead ship."

      The dead ship was a challenge and Eric had made damage control his speciality for 12 years. Hewas different from other "Damage Control Engineers" in that he did more than train his troopsand have drills: he liked to know why damage occurred. On a starship, there could be surprisingcauses for damage and so he hunted.

      It didn't hurt that he had a library of programmes he had written, stolen or been given "underthe table". He leaned back in his chair and tapped commands on his keyboard that causedwindows to open on his monitors. He watched the displays and occasionally issued morecommands on his keyboard. Windows would appear with data and disappear. He watched them,taking in the data at a rate that very few could consciously see let alone assimilate and quietly build up a picture of what had NOT happened to the dead ship.

      His bridge officer transferred the imagery from Eric's monitors to the main viewer; Eric didn'tnotice. On the ENTERPRISE, Data had patched into the BERRY's communications systems andput the images from Eric's monitors onto the ENTERPRISE's main viewer.

      The ENTERPRISE bridge crew was stunned. Piccard was bemused and wondered if "his Eric"had gotten over his problems and hoped the "old Eric" was back. Dr. Crusher was delighted.

      Eric paused when three screens started showing flickering red icons. He focused an entirely newset of diagnostics on those screens and Piccard, feeling an intuitive dread, began to frown.

      Eric focused on a section of the second deck where something had created a loop in an exposedpipe. This pipe carried a necessary compound that was used in the warp engine cooling system.The pipe was one of the strongest on the dead ship and in theory, should have survived a warpcore breach. It was bend into a "C" shape and had clearly breached. Eric had noticed this with his first scans but NEEDED to figure out what had caused the damage.

      He now knew where the ship's personnel had gone. The leaks had been near a large intake for the ship's air handling system and quickly filled the ship, dissolving all organic material on the dead ship. That is, all humans, three house cats, a highly pampered lap dog and the First Officer's pet Vulcan "bird". The ship's ventilation system had vented the toxic gases but only after the "organic material" had been completely dissolved. It was a tragedy.

      Eric's final display showed a squiggly line descending through the "ceiling" and co-incident with this, the bending of the pipe. He typed in one final command and looked into a hooded monitor which came out from the equipment rack. His retina was scanned and what his fears were confirmed.

      All the monitors on the bridge when black.

      A monitor on Piccard's bridge chair lit up and showed what he had feared from the instant he'd seen the squiggly line: an Omega particle had gone through the dead ship. Now, all records of this event would have to be classified and removed from both the BERRY and the ENTERPRISE; a lie would have to be created to satisfy the curious (weapon hidden by the Romulans was a classic standby) and it would now be safe to re-populate the dead ship. Piccard would leave the writing of condolence letters to the professionals at Star Fleet Headquarters.

      Eric sent a message to Piccard suggesting they met for lunch the next morning. Piccard countered with a 7 am breakfast. Eric responded with a suggestion for a 9 am breakfast and Piccard agreed.

      Eric stretched, thinking this was one of "those stressful events" he'd been warned about. However, if he was going to finally quit "using the good stuff", one last "shot of glory" would be the perfect ending to his unfortunate source of "relief from pain" and would mourn the dead.

      He looked behind him and saw all five of his Passed Midshipmen clumped together like a group of nervous Ferengi and three Ensigns from the ENTERPRISE. He hadn't noticed them beam over and assumed that Piccard had sent them. He beamed at the three Ensigns; they had been students of his at Star Fleet academy and had given memorial performances during the so-called "Wet Navy" portion of the damage control classes Eric had taught. From the scowls, the three "youngsters" clearly remembered Eric Bellingham.

      Eric suddenly realized his binge of three months before had been his last and he could no longer indulge.

      He had too many people looking up to him now and he suddenly realized he needed his people to think well of him.

      He was finally healed...

     

      "Well, well, it's good to see all of you again! We're going to have to survey that 'ship of the dead', gather the personal belongings and ship them to next of kin, rename that boat and repopulate her with officers and crew. I'm going to propose a crew to Captain Piccard and here is what I'm thinking of…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2 - In the beginning...

     

      It was graduation day, that June day in 2358 and Midshipman Eric Randall Bellingham proudly marched up to the podium. He braced himself to attention and in an earlier Navy, he would have saluted. Vice Admiral J.P. Hanson smiled at him and spoke: "Midshipman Eric Bellingham has completed the course of instruction leading to a Bachelor of Science in Advanced engineering and a minor in Command. Mr. Bellingham has been accepted into the Masters programme and will be searching advanced engineering applications. He is fully qualified to serve in an Engineer officer position but that will have to wait until he completes his advanced education. I  look forward to having Eric serve aborad one of my ships in the very near future." The Vice Admiral handed Eric his diploma. Eric smiled with relief and appreciation of the Vice Admiral's approval and then Passed Midshipman Eric Randall Bellingham did an about face and marched off the stage. He passed the next happy graduate and was only vaguely aware of the Vice  Admiral stating "Midship woman Elizabeth Anne Stephanie Benson has successfully..."

      Eric's parents and irritating 15 year old sister greeted him with hugs and congratulations. His little sister stopped the dancing around the subject they all wanted to know about.

      "So, stupid older brother, why weren't you commissioned like that 'Elizabeth Anne something or another was? You're good enough!"

      His parents nodded in agreement.

      "I have some ideas about general engineering. We've got all sorts of tools but we study each one separately or at best, several at a time. Most people don't know what the tools have in common. If they did, the repair troops might be able to cobble together different instruments in emergencies. So, I'm going to be doing a study. I'm ... ah ... not quite sure what my thesis will be about but I've several months to decide and I'll have a good professor."

     "The USS PEGASUS had returned to Earth so her Captain could look over the 'fresh crop of Cadets'. His helmsman, William Thomas Riker,  a graduate from the previous year, came over.

      "Congratulations, Eric, I've been looking forward to this day!" Riker turned to Bellingham's family. "Eric and I were in the same weapons engineering classes last year and we both tutored several cadets together." Riker abruptly glanced away and then directly addressed Eric: "A number of your friends are getting together for graduation pictures. I'll visit with your family for a few minutes and then you can head off for a nice two week v a c a t i o n!"

      "Once every generation, a natural engineer will crop up at the Academy and he or she will do more than just learn general systems and how to do general engineer. He or she will think deeply about basic designs of our tools and how they are similar or different. Eric will come up with a taxidermy of our various machines. His findings will be used to train engineers graduating from the academy or the Enlisted training brigade. It will be very helpful."

      "Why aren't all midshipmen commissioned as officers?"

      "Many are excellent engineers or medical types or Security forces as police or Marines. It's no dishonor to not be officer material and besides, there are far more crewman billets than officer billets on ships. There aren't very many officers on ships. Then, the enlisted training brigade is meant for specialists who will work in strictly limited areas. These are the crew who might be the best warp core electronics engineers or the best weapons techs or the best Marines. The academy graduates, whether they are commissioned or not, simply have broader educations and can move around more. Eric will be commissioned and will be a fine engineering officer. Don't worry!"

      After a while, Ensign Riker excused himself to wonder over and speak with other friends of his from the Academy and with their families. It was pleasant.

     

      All went as Ensign Riker had prophesied. Eric finished his training in the basics of all of StarFleet's engineering systems and his thesis detailed what instruments had in common and which parts could be modified to fit into different systems. For every Engineer who praised his work, several Engineering students cursed him for his thesis was "learn by heart" to many instructors. It was a thesis but Eric was cursed for not writing "a better textbook..."

     

      The USS TAMERLANE (NCC-11555) had been built as a fast attack gun ship shortly after the last Romulans War. For her time, she was fast and heavily armed but was designed for that war. TAMERLANE had the traditional saucer section but had a modified engineering section. Instead of being a four section composition of saucer, engineering "cylinder" and twin warm nacelles, the TAMERLANE's engineering "cylinder" was merged into the lower aft section of the saucer; the twin warp nacelles could be retracted to bring them in tight to the hull and this allowed for a smaller volume to be protected by the shields. Thus, the TAMERLANE, in effect, had a much more powerful shield that she should have.

      Passed Midshipman Eric Bellingham had read up on his new ship but didn't appreciate what TAMERLANE would really look like. He would learn her virtues...

      Eric was a passenger on a Star Fleet courier boat. Star Fleet needed very few of these craft since high speed subspace communications took care of more communications needs including replicator templates for suddenly needed products; most personnel transfers could be handled on a slower time frame and people could be shuffled on a leisurely pace. This was the exception, however. The unnamed courier was carrying a "classified cargo" and while they were at it, they hauled personnel for the TAMERLANE and two other ships.

      Eric volunteered to help out in engineering and was rather kindly turned down. It would have taken too much time to "break in" the new people and the crew was busy enough given the "boat" cruised at warp 9.5 and that would very rough on a ship. He was told to enjoy this vacation. Eric also got an introduction to a feature of his beloved "old Navy": he was hot racking. This meant that he had to share a rack with two other crew men and he had not been looking forward to making some person roll out at the start of Eric's "eight" and then be evicted from "his" rack at the end of "his Eight". Fortunately, Eric's “rack predecessor” never slept more than 5.5 hours and Eric could rack out early, get 8 - 8.5 hours and let his "successor" rack out early. It was a source of amusement to the boat's crew and sleep ranked just below eating and having the occasional "drink of medicinal alcohol". Eric was happy to reach the TAMERLANE.

      The boat shut off her engines near the TAMERLANE and was drawn by TAMERLANE's tractors against the main airlock. Personnel simply walked from the boat to TAMERLANE without ceremony. There was no saluting towards a flag and no one "request permission to come aboard. It was all so very disappointedly un-military. Eric was offended.

      Finally, an Lieutenant spotted him and walked over.

      "You must be Mr. Bellingham? I'm Scott Talbert, second officer and your official greeter. Welcome aboard!"

      "Thank you sir."

      "Just call me Dan. We Sir "Big Bob" and "Laser Eyes" but don't let them know those nicknames. "Big Bob" is Captain Robert McMillian and "Laser Eyes" is Clark Gray; we call him "Laser Eyes" since he can pick out problems with the best of them."

      "Yes, sir."

      "You'll get used to it, once You're settled in. Shall we go see your quarters and then the Captain?"

     "Yes, sir, er, yes Dan. My gear isn't aboard yet and maybe you can help me find a hand cart?"

      "Don't worry, we used our cargo transporters to move your personal gear aboard. They wondered through several corridors and up a ladder before finding a door with the names "Bellingham" and "McDuff" on it. Dan opened the door and showed Eric around. The quarters consisted of two small "bedrooms" with a common head, a work table, storage space inside and outside the two "bedrooms" and a replicator smaller than what Eric was used to.

      "Your roomie isn't on the same shift as you so your rooms should be quiet when you go to bed. You'll have plenty of time to put your stuff away. Now, you can replicate a fresh uniform everyday but the Captain thinks this is a waste of power. So, as long as your uniform is clean and in good repair, the Captain and First Officer won't care. you can use the replicator to clean your uniforms as well. Now, when was the last time you ate, had something to drink or took care of personal business? (He meant use the head.)"

      "Your roomie isn't on the same shift as you so your rooms should be quiet when you go to bed. You'll have plenty of time to put your stuff away. Now, you can replicate a fresh uniform everyday but the Captain thinks this is a waste of power. So, as long as your uniform is clean and in good repair, the Captain and First Officer won't care. you can use the replicator to clean your uniforms as well. Now, when was the last time you ate, had something to drink or took care ofpersonal business? (He meant use the head.)"

      "Right before we docked."

      "Great! Time to meet the man! Stand up straight and I'll straighten your uniform up." Dan straightened Eric's uniform, which he had pressed and put on clean  some hour or so before leaving the boat. Then, Dan slapped the button on the wall communicator panel and spoke: "Third officer to the Captain".

      "Talk to me, Dan."

      "Sir, I've gotten Passed Midshipman Eric Randal Bellingham in his quarters. Will you be available to meet him?"

      "Certainly, bring the young man up to my 'At Sea Cabin'"."

     

      They entered an outer office, where a stern looking Senior Chief stood behind a large desk. She wore the commications pin favoured by Star Fleet Security (Marine) instead of the more traditional comminications pin.

      "You must be Mr. Bellingham. I will introduce you to the Captain." Then she looked at LTjgTalbert. "I need a few words with you, young man, at your earliest convience."

      They entered the Captain’s “At Sea Cabin”.

      "Captain, this is Passed Midshipman Eric Randall Bellingham. He did very at the Academy and wrote a very nice thesis. One of his advisors wrote me a letter praising the young man and I have high hopes for him. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a few words with your Second Officer."

      "Is there a problem, Senior Chief Haskall?"

      "No, sir, just a matter of scheduling drills."

      The Senior Chief left.

      "Welcome to TAMERLANE, Eric. I'm quite pleased to have you with us. That advisor Senior Chief mentioned was most convincing. Have you gotten into quarters? Did you have a good trip out here? Have you met your new roomie?"

      "Ah, Sir, I'm delighted to be here but also a bit scared. Sir, the trip here was fine but I had to 'hot rack'. The Lieutenant showed me my room but I've not met my roomie. Which advisor wrote your Senior Chief and", he paused, "if you don't mind me asking, why did my advisor write the Senior Chief? Sir."

      "Your thesis advisor is Anna's 2nd son and he was likes routing the best Passed Midshipmen to his Mother's Ship."

      "His...Mother's ship?"

      "He is convinced Senior Chief rules the ship. She does but don't let her know I've said that! Before you ask, Senior Chief was a member of the Security Branch called 'Star Fleet Marines'. She retired as a 'Master Chief' but went by the rank of "Master Gunnery Sergeant" on active duty. After a couple of years of retirement, my Anna came back on active duty as an Administrative Chief Petty Officer and I promoted her to Senior Chief as quickly as I could. Ah, where are my manners. Please, have a seat and I'll arrange for coffee."

      Eric was escorted over to one of a couple of easy chairs that were in one corner of the Captain's office. The door opened and the Senior Chief swept in carrying a silver china service with a silver looking coffee pot, two china cups and coffee cake, butter, plates and flatware. She placed this on a small table between the easy chairs and murmured the Captain:

      "I have no delusions of running this ship. Sir."

      "No, of course not, Anna."

      She sniffed and swept back out of the Captain's office and into her lair.

      The Captain grinned at Eric...

     

      "Now that you've met the 'real commander' of the Good Ship TAMERLANE, how about we discuss what you'll be doing here. Based on your records, I get the impression that You're a generalist and would like to learn all the ship's systems?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "Good! I'm going to make you the Assistant to the Main Propulsion Assistant (MPA) at first. Right now, Master Chief Lynch, Jair Lynch, is acting MPA and is also assistant Chief Engineer. Once you get settled in, I expect to commission you and you'll be MPA. Questions?"

      "Sir, I remember reading of something called the 'Pipes and Wiring Book' back in the 'old days'. This was something that 'Tripp', Captain Archer's Chief Engineer required of his people and something that Captain Scott also required. I'm not sure this is still in use and I don't want to step on any toes by asking permission to work through this book. Sir."

      "Eric, I typically assign 'doing the book' as remedial training for engineers but if you want to try it, please do so. Just be aware that you'll get some strange looks."

      "Strange looks?" Eric had an uncomfortable feeling he already knew the answer.

      "Yes, strange looks. Folks will wonder how you could have been on board ship so short a period and yet be 'in hack' already."

      Eric smiled wanly and the Captain briefed Eric on the ship, it's history, Eric's expected duties and told him to be in the Wardroom in Dress Uniform at 1800. Eric was escorted to the door and the Captain went back to his "paperwork".

      Eric nodded at the Senior Chief, who nodded back and then spoke:

      "You would be wise to ask for the 'Pipes and Wiring Book' from Master Chief Lynch. After he agrees, just call me and I'll have a copy sent down to you. Now, did you have lunch before leaving that courier boat?"

      "I had a little to eat, Ma'am."

      "I thought so." She went to the door and called to a passing Ensign.

      "Ensign  Lyndon, this is Mr. Bellingham, Eric Bellingham. Mr. Bellingham, this is Ensign Theressa Lyndon. Miss Lyndon, please take Mr. Bellingham to the lounge for a snack and then help him get settled in. I'll arrange for Mr. Bellingham to have his introduction to Engineering tomorrow."

      "Yes, Ma'am. Eric, come with me."

      "Here is the officer and Chief Petty Officer listing."

      Eric was handed a padd with the text:

     

     

            Command:

            Robert McMillian, CAPT, CO

            Clark Gray, CDR, 1st officer

            Scott Talbert, LT, 2nd officer

            Engiineering:

            Daniel Jackson, CDR, Chief Engineer

             Jair Lynch, Master Chief, Assistant Chief Engineer

 

      There were the names of a number of engineering officers and Eric skimmed over them. He knew he'd learn them soon enough. Unpacking in his "quarters" (room actually) mainly consisted of putting out his dress uniform, a clean working uniform for the next day and his preferred sleeping gear (his high school running shorts and a ratty t shirt he grandfather had worn on his first ship and which he'd given Eric the year before).

      The meal went quickly and Eric would later think it had been a fine one but he couldn't remember exactly why. He did know that he'd bonded on some level with everyone in the room. Why this had happened when logically it should not have was something he would never think about. Star Fleet did a very carefull job of picking it's future ship's crews and carefully "adjusted" them in subtle ways so as to make them blend easily and peacefully into crews. Sometimes it  didn't work; the difficulties one Reg Barclay had on the ENTERPRISE had become legendamong the "head thumpers".

     

      The next day began his real tour on the TAMERLANE.  Eric was given a tour of the ship and introducted around. He met dozens of people and knew he would never remember their names. Several years later, he not only knew their names, he knew the names of their spouces, girlfriends, boy friends, families and even most of their dogs, cats and targs. (Yes, TAMMERLANE hosted Klingons several times.) He would later see their inner demons and they his; this familiarity would not lead to contempt but to deeper friendship. It was strange but true and happened to many others in those later years.

      Eric knocked on the door to the Chief Engineer's Office; he expected a growled order to enter and then expected to wait while the Chief Engineer did paperwork that was far more important than a "Passed Midshipmen". He was wrong.

      Commander Jackson personally opened the door for Eric and invited him in. The door was a very old fashioned dogged "hatch" and had to be manually opened. It had the virtue of being airtight and impossible for an intruder to open via computer. The Master Chief was seated in an easy chair but he arose anyway and walked towards the visitor.

      "Passed Midshipman Eric Randal Bellingham reporting as ordered, Sir!"

      "The Master Chief rolled his eyes; the Chief Engineer gave him a "now Master Chief" look.

      "Welcome to my little fiefdom, Mr. Bellingham. I am Daniel Jackson and this is your new Mentor, Master Chief Jair Lynch. You don't have to call him 'God' but it wouldn't hurt to bow towards him every so often."

      The Master Chief simply looked disguested.

      "When Master Chief Lynch was a Senior Chief, I was a Passed Midshipman in fusion reactor section. So, please have a seat. Do you like coffee and coffee cake?"

      "Sir, yes and yes."

      "Well, have a seat."

      There were three seats, with a little table between them. The Master Chief trundled over to pour coffee from a pewter pot and removed a large plate of sliced coffee cake from a microwave oven. The butter was already melted into the cake. He brought the tray over to the table, sat and helped himself. The other two did as well.

      "Eric, what would you like to do?"

      "Sir, I would like to get as familiar as possible with every engineering system. I would also like to run through the "Pipes and Wiring" book; I think it would help. What are your plans for me?"

      "You'll work for Master Chief on qualifying as a Division Officer. You'll have to qualify as an Engineer Officer of the Watch first and then serve as the Fusion Reactors Officer, Master Chief is currently the Acting Main Propulsion Assistant and is in charge of the warp drive and impulse engines. This also means he is acting sub department head for the warp and fusion reactors and power generation and distribution. All this could take you upwards of a year to do."

      The Master Chief spoke immediately after the Department Head stopped.

      "You'll be learning quite a lot simply to get your Junior Engineer of the Watch and then Engineer of the Watch qualificaitons. Normally, a new crewman would get the Junior quals and have some breathing room before doing the 'senior' quals. I think you can do this."

      "Yes, Sir." Technically, he wasn't supposed to "sir" the Master Chief but no one ever made the mistake of forgetting this worthy was a non-Commissioned Officer and so he got "senior officer" and "old fart" respect.

      The next hour or so was spent in planning Eric's upcoming training in engineering and his quals. They left the "big office" and Master Chief mustered the on-duty crew.

      "This is Mr. Eric Randall Bellingham. He'll be working in all sections as part of his Engineering Officer of the Watch quals. I expect we'll commission him before too long and he'll be the Fusion Reactor Officer. So, give him as much help as you can, help get him qualified as quickly as you can and he'll be doing the 'paperwork' before you know it. Then, too, the sooner he quals, the sooner the Fusion Reactor Officer can go back to Post Graduate School and get that Advanced Warp Theory Ph.D. he has been sighing over..."

      There was a laugh and Eric wondered what the joke was.

      The Master Chief nodded at Eric.

      "I'm happy to be here and want to qualify as quickly as possible. I've been told that Division Officers are quote paperwork pushers unquote but my real interest is in hands on engineering. I've read of something called the "Wiring and Pipes" book and I'd like to work my way through that. It seems to me it would help me learn the systems and thus, qualify quicker."

      There was a deep silence and someone spoke: "Well, I'll be damned! A voluenteer!"

      Eric gained a lot of face by voluenteering...

      Over the next five weeks, Eric was introduced to everyone in Engineering, was shown how todo a vast number of jobs and favourably impressed most with his willingness to work and his ability to work. The strangest jobs were when he trained on the bridge and realized "I could do this!"

      "I could be a bridge officer."

      During his Junior Engineering Officer of the Watch board (he was seated away from the table in a psychologically vulnerable postion) he was asked by the Captain:

      "If you saw a problem, would you have the courage to come to me about it?"

      "Yes, Sir...well, I like to think I would. Sir."

      "That was a trick question, Eric. You're damned regardless of how you answer. If you'd said 'no', I'd think you a butt kissing coward. If you'd said 'yes', what could the problem be?"

      Eric thought for a moment, looking at the immediate threat in the question and quickly realized a deeper meaning. "I would be wrong to have immediately said 'yes' because that would suggest I was jumping over my chain of command. I would be wrong if I didn't bring problems to my Department Head, first officer and finally to you, Sir, if my leaders didn't decide to report a problem and it's possible solutions. It would look like I was trying to put myself above more experienced, better trained, officers. Sir."

      "Good answer, Mr. Bellingham," the First officer stated. "We are more experienced but I doubtwe're better trained; after all, you've just graduated from the Academny with your BS and MS. You've got the edge in training on the rest of us. As for experience, you'll gain that. You're in a rare position: you're about to be commissioned and will be allowed to make a certain number of errors; I think of it as a puppy pooping on the rug occasionally. The puppy needs to learn the limits. We're old dogs and have learned how to make it to the yard."

      Eric politely joined in the general laughter especially when the Captain did a dog-panting-with-tounge-handing-out-gesture.

      The questioning went on for a while. Then, Eric was dismissed. When he was brought back into the Wardroom, the Engineering Master Chief and the Senior Chief (who was the Senior Chief who controlled the warp core) ushered him to a regular seat. There he was told:

      "Passed Midshipman Eric Randall Bellingham, after several minutes of discussion, we unanmously declared you qualified to serve as a 'Junior Engineering Officer of the Watch'. We're proud of you! Now, I expect to commission you as Ensign in one week and I expect you to qualify as 'Senior Engineer Officer of the Watch' in the next three months. I know it took you five weeks to get the 'junior quals' and you're probably thinking three months is a long time. Actually, it isn't a long time; you're goikng to be a division officer and will have an unholy amount of paperwork to learn to do. You'll also have to continue working on your quals. I'm sure the Chief (chief engineer), the Master Chief and all the other Chiefs will want you to continue doing engineering tasks. You will also have to work with and live with crew who have come to think of you as an 'officer under instruction'. Don't let this go to your head."

      "Yes, Sir. I do suspect the Master Chief will lead the efforts to keep me humble." He grinned at t he Master Chief.

      "I think we're done here. Why don't you go down to Engineering and I'll announce you'vequalified."

      Eric was excorted from the Wardroom by the Engineering officer, the Master and Senior Chief and the three senior petty officers who had attended and had quietly offered questions to the senior Engineers. Eric's responses would spread quickly through the crew...

      The CO gestered to his First and Second officers to linger behind.

      "Did you notice a certain mind set to some of the young man's answers?"

      "Do you mean he speaks like either a Chief Engineer or a Commanding Officer?"

      "Exactly, number one."

      "Captain, I think this lad could be a CO some day. He has the ability, he has the touch and he has demonstrated the ability to get people to work for him. Some of the jobs he did in Engineering were delibertly screwed up just to see how he'd react. He reacted well, quite well."

      The Second Officer nodded in agreement.

      "Well, gentlemen, it'll be several years before our jobs are endangered by young Eric Bellingham!"

      On the way to Engineering, Eric was inexplisably delayed by:

     *A senior petty officer who asked inane quesitions about a subject said petty officer had taught at the Academy three years before (the man's eyes twinkled),

      *A couple of crew members who needed help in solving an interpersonal problem; this was strange as the two had been married for twelve years and were the most stable couple on the ship,

      * Several junior officers had bad jokes to tell and

      *Many folks simply wanted to congratulate Eric and talk about their own boards.

      

      It took over an hour and that gave the "ship's cook" time to decorate a very large cake. (If Erichad unexpectidly failed his board, the cake would have been simply decorated and served with lunch).

     

      Eric's family loved the photos taken of him with his celebratory cake. Eric cut the first piece and gave it to Senior Chief Anna Haskall (he knew who the Sun Source of power on the ship was!). One of the Security officers (police not Marine) had used a manual ice cream maker to create several batches of vinilla ice cream. This substance was so loaded with fat the Medical Officer had to close his eyes before taking a bite. Then, the "Docs", who had bad mouthed the ice cream, ate more than their share...

      Unlike many earlier military services, Eric's comrades truly cared that he had qualified; they were more of a family that earlier Navies would have believed. The Captain had dropped the TAMERLANE out of warp and the good ship and crew spend the rest of the day and that night studying several nearby stars. The next day, the TAMERLANE got underweigh again on course to Deep Space Station 14.

      For the next week, life on the TAMERLANE ran it's normal course and they eventually prepared for "liberty" at the Deep Space 14.

     

      July 4th, 2359 was a very good day for Passed Midshipman Eric Randall Bellingyham: he was commissioned.

     

     

     

      On July 6, 2359, Ensign Bellingham was ushered into his Department Head's office. There, the detaching Fusion Reactor Officer (LTjg William Jefferson Person) handed over the various logsand certified they had successfully inventoried all items under the pervue of the "Fusion ReactorOfficer" and had been briefed on the personnel, the status of performance reviews and even more"paperwork" to be done. Eric was a bit overwelmed.

      A week later, Eric was called into the Chief Engineer's office. The First Officer was there.

      "Do you know what happened last night?""~Nothing out of the ordinary, Chief. I haven't had the change to check the shift logs yet but theoutgoing watch section didn't tell me anything out of the ordinary."

      "Then you don't know about the little problem with containment in reactor two?"

      "What! What problem, sir?"

      The Chief Engineer continued: "Containment was lost on fusion reactor two for some 22miliseconds. The reaction gases were automatically vented. This caused a sensor glich and thebridge became unduely alarmed." The First Officer didin't seem to appreciate thischaracterization.

      "Comments", said the First Officer.

      "Sir! Reporting any problems is something that should have happened. There is no excuse formy not being notified."

      "What that in your Standing Night Orders?"

      "My...Standing Night Orders, Sir?"

      "Yes, Ensign, didn't you know you're supposed to maintain a set of Standing Night Orders?"

      "Er, no, Sir, I'll look right into the matter."

      "You're excused, Eric."

      

      After the door was closed, the Chief Engineer looked at the First Officer.

      "Standing Night Orders from an Ensign?"

      "Well, let's see how it plays out."

     

      "Eric then proceded to mishandle the situation.

     

      He called in the outgoing night watch, which was in a training session.

      "Was anyone going to tell me about this reactor venting?"

      "It was in the watch log, sir."

      "Well, I got my ass chewed for not knowing. I would have appreciated being told at morningpassdown."

      "Yes, sir. We'll make sure you are in the future."

      "Dismissed." That didn't go over too well with the troops; Eric had been one of them a coupldof weeks ago and hadn't earned the right to be snotty.

     

      There was a knock on the door and the Master Chief stuck his head in.

      "May I have a word with you, Ensign?"

      The Master Chief walked in, slammed the hatch shut behind him and starte in.

      "Young man, you will not chew the butts of your division without first discussing it with me.Then, if you still think you need to chew butt, you'll call in your Leading Chief Petty Officer andthat Chief will call in the offenders and will handle the butt chewing. You may interjectcomments, depending on the situation but you will not cut your Leading Chief out of the loop. Isthat understood...sir?"

      "Sir" was definitely lower case.

      "Yes, sir, Master chief."

      "Good. Your Chief wishes to speak with you.

      This august person walked into Eric's office.

      "Sir! In the future, sir, if you have a problem with our sailors, sir, do not cut me out of the loop.Sir. Make sure you discuss any problems, sir, with me before you jump my -er- our troops. Sir."

      "I appologize, Chief. I'm still learning the proper eddicate."

      "Good, sir, good. Oh, The watch Petty Officer wishes a word with you.

      This young Petty Officer entered and said: "Good morning, sir."

      "What's good about it?" Eric was glum.

      "Probably nothing much, sir. I just wanted to say, sir, that if you have a problem in the future,please talk to me in private or have the Chief talk to me. It looks bad to bust my balls in front ofmy people."

      Now, Eric was getting steamed.

      "I didn't bust your balls. Well, I don't think I did. In the future, I will react slower and follow thechain of command better."

      His various visitors left.

     

      After he was once again alone in his office, Eric got to wondering just what could he put in his"night orders"? The very concept seemed hazy to him. He remembered that humans had centuriesof experience at operating Star Ships and every contingency had been covered with proceduresdecades if not centuries before. Then, there was the question of who his crewmen worked for:him or the watch officers? If he was presumeptous enough to leave "night orders" then wouldn'the be reiterating "ancient received wisdom" and wouldn't he (an Ensign!) be guilty of issuingorders to officers senior to him and to senior "enlisted" who'd been Star Fleet since before he'dbeen born? He finally thought of an approach and went off to find an ally in his comingcompaign: he went to see his Division's Leading Chief.

      Eric knocked on the Senior Chief's door (which was open) and asked: "Do you have a fewminutes, Senior Chief?"

      The Senior Chief waved Eric in and Eric (being a polite guest) asked "You want some coffee?"

      "Yes, Sir. Is there a problem?"

      Eric replied "I don't know" and brought over a tray with two cups of coffee and the coffee cakethis Senior Chief seemed to favour. Then, Eric explained his problems. The Senior Chief waspolite and only broke into laughter once.~

      At the end of Eric's discussion, his Senior Chief commented "You've made some good pointsand I agree, we should take this up with the Master Chief."

      The two of them, looking suitably grim, left the Senior Chief's office and walked over to theMaster Chief's office. This little walk lead to horror stories among the duty crew who wonderedwhat had gotten these two riled up especially given the reaction to Ensign Bellingham's responsesto the reactor hickup. They would find out somewhat later but the legends of what the crewfeared would last for a long time...

      Division Officer, aided by his Leading Chief, briefed the Master Chief. The Master Chiefnodded politely and said "I agree with your analysis, Mr. Bellinham and we can go speak withthe Chief [Engineer]."

     

      They traisped over to the Chief Engineer's office, were admitted by his Administrative PettyOfficer and were invited to drag up chairs by his desk.

      "Mr. Bellingham has some concerns, sir," spoke the Master Chief.

      "Sir, I've been thinking about what you said about 'night orders'. Night orders are intended forunusual events at night. Basically everything that can come up in Engineering has been knownfor centuries and we have doctrine to cover it. If something unusual were to happen, that wouldnecessitate 'night orders', I think the Senior Chief and I would be there to supervise." The ChiefEngineer nodded in agreement. "Then, there is the question of who my people work for. During'normal working hours', they work for me. Some of regular, that is non-watch standing jobs,evenings and nights but then they're supervised by the Engineering Officer of the Watch. TheEngineering Officer of the Watch monitors the reactors and engines from the warp corecommand counsol. The Junior Watch officer monitors engineering status from the bridge. So,issuing 'night orders' would mean I'm issuing redundant orders to offciers senior to me and seniorenlisted who have far greater job knowledge and experience than me. This seemspresumptious, sir."

      That finally got a laugh from his audience.

      "The 'night orders' was just a bit of a joke, son, so don't worry any more about it. However, Ilike that you thought through this matter. Now, why would 'unusual events' not happen on theevening or night watches?"

      "Well, Sir, it's been known for centuries that evening shift workers are less alert than day timeones and the mid shifters are the least alert of the lot. Now, our people have fixed shifts and workthe same hours. However, so many things occurr during either the period before a person goes onan eve watch or while they're sleeping after a mid watch that they often don't get really solidsleep. How many 'all hands meetings' seems to take place at zero eight hundred?"

      "Too damn many" the Senior Chief muttered.

      "How many 'nice events' take place during what should be a mid watch stander's sleep period? Iknow the Captain tries to avoid dragging people out of their racks when unnecessary but there areexceptions. I don't want to reiterate basic rules because that'll imply my people aren't payingattention to the rules - especially the safety rules - or that their supervisors and the watch officersand watch chiefs aren't paying attention either. I simply don't want to piss off -er- offend so manypeople for no good reason. So, Sir, I'm not sure what I really could put in 'night orders'." Hepaused. "Well, I could discuss unusual events expected on the eve or mid that don't requireSenior Chief or me to be present. I could submit my verbage as an adendum to the Captain'sNight Orders."

      This could frowns fron all of his listeners!

      "Now, I don't want you thinking that I want to scribble up some 'night orders' and either givethem to the Captain or worst yet, append them to his orders. I really don't. But, if I do create'night orders' of my own, I would them up the Chain of Command to the Senior Watch Officer."This officer, the First Officer, actually wrote the Captain's Night Orders and the Captain eitherdelegatedf the "signing authority" to his First or the Captain personally "signed off" on the NightOrders. Often, the Captain simply used previous Night Orders and added or deleted orders.

      "Well spoken Eric and you won't be making too many 'nigth orders' of your own. However, asyou advance on this ship, you'll find more occasion [to do so]."

     

      Eric had come of this intact. However, he thought he'd get a little pay back. Over the nextseveral days, if Eric thought someone needed a haircut, or their uniform had remnants of theprevious night's dinner or if they didn't clean up after themselves, he told his Senior Chief. Onlywhen the Senior Chief was litterally unavailable (he was stuck on shipboard watch qualificationboards) did Eric pass his comments to his Leading Petty Officers. Since he had four fussionreactors in his division, he had two junior chiefs and four Leading Petty officers to speak up.These worthies somehow found the need to be elsewhere when Eric prowled the division workspaces with a note-padd in hand...

      The Master Chief decided to give "this pesty junior officer" two more days to "knock this shitoff" when Eric abruptly stopped taking his notes and resumed simply telling his people if they"neededl to wipe the lube oil off the back of your left boot", etc.

     

      One of the advantages of Eric's wide exposure in engineering was he had a good idea of whatgrades his people deserved on their quarterly evaluations. At least, he thought so until his Chiefsgrilled him on why he either changed previous marks or didn't change them. He got a goodeducation in the problems of writing candid evaluations that wouldn't kill the careers of thispeople and finally was given permission to delegate the writing of "evals" to the professionals:the senior enlisted who had far more experience with what was expected of the crew and wereactually quite good at writing evaluation.

      Eric simply took the "evals" of his Chief Petty Officers and Senior Chief Petty officers,improved the marks if they were already maxed out, changed the praise in the narrative sectionsof the "evals" and submitted them. The Master Chief never complaigned and the Captain evencomplemented him on is "tactful way of dealing with the Chiefs on their 'evals'" when Erichimself received his 'eval' (FITREP or Fitness Report actually).

      It was hard to write negative "evals" of personnel who had years of experience and training andwho would have been winnowed out far earlier if they didn't met the high standards of theTAMERLANE's Officrs and Chiefs...

     

      At about the five month point, Eric achieved qualification at a "Senior Engineering WatchOfficer" and was transferred to serve at the "Warp Core Reactor Division Officer".  At about the13 month point, Eric passed the qualifications tests for Engineering Officer; this was a three daysit down exam and was given at Star Base 19. Immediately before the exam, he had been givenan oral board exam. Actually, the oral board had been a "goug session" and was intended to helphim pass the written exams the same officers gave him. (Nothing like having test proctors whohad "taught you the test" mere days before!)

      Then, having passed the written exams, he took the oral exams. They told him he'd flunked andwould have to retake some of the orals. Eric was privately told he'd really passed and theexaminers were giving him stress. He later found he'd not passed those portions and one of theproctors was just trying to help him relaxy.

      It worked and Eric could send pictures of himself cutting his "Chief Engineer Selectee" cakeback to his family.

      The position of "Main Propulsion Assistant" was an officer who was basically a departmenthead within the Engineering Department. A month after qualfying as "Chief Engineer", Eric waspromoted to Lietenant Junior Grade and made MPA.

      He was on track to command the Engineering Section of one of the larger, more powerful, newconstruction ships. However, he had become very much a member of the TAMERLANE familyand didn't want to leave; it would take some serious prodding to get him to go...

     

      Eric liked to work on machenery. He had lost track of the amount of time he spent training,leading and consuling his division officers (fine Ensigns) and his Midshipmen. He got a numberof Midshipmen who were fine students but who seems far too impressed with Eric. He just didn'tthink he was that impressive and in this he was wrong; he was an impressive officer who wascalm under stress and would never think to ask "did I really do that"? If he did something, heknew he'd done it and didn't need to double check.

      Eric's ability to scan multiple data displays awed people. The fact that he'd studied the variousdata displays one at a time and knew what the data meant was a concept he couldn't get people tobelieve. They could believe in knowing the signficance of the data from different displays. Theyjust didn't believe how many data displays he could study and keep straight in his head.

      Still, Eric was building a great "Service Reputation" and the TAMERLANE's prestigue wentup.

     

      The TAMERLANE had been built as a weapons platform and Eric became interested in howthose systems worked. He spent several weeks studying how the torpedoes worked. The idea ofusing an anti-matter generator to convert small amounts of "regular" matter to anti-matter andcontain the newly created anti-matter in intense magnetic fields delighted him. He began towonder if a ship could use the "anti-matter induction fields" to create anti-matter near or inenemy ships.

      He was told this violated intra-galactic treaty and he would never, ever, mention that he'd evenconsidered such a thing. Then, during a meeting about storing consumables, Eric was briefed onsome weapons he'd not known about. It seemed that using a "anti-matter creating beam" was theheart of an advanced "distrupter" the Klingons and the Federation were jointly working on. Thiswas highly classified. It turned out the "disrupters" the Breen used changed the quarks in matterand this disrupted matter. Changing a proton to a neutrn changed an atom to the element nextlower on the periodic table. Changing hydrogen to a neutron surrounded by an electron lead to astray electron and destroyed molecules with hydrogen. These were very impressive weapons!

      Although he wasn't told the name, Eric was made a member of "Section 31" and would makegood use of the gear they gave him...

     

      There were a number of interesting people: One was "the plumber", Chief R. Johns Sloan. Heliked to fix toilets, sinks and run cleaning gear through the pipes. He also did plumbing work onwater pipes and the air handling, purification and heaing/cooling gear.

      The odd thing is that Chief Sloan was one of the best at working on the "plumbing" of the warpcore reactor and he was Eric's "go to person" when they needed to do emergency work (as well astraining others).

      At the Academy, no one had told Eric about folks like his Chief Sloan...

     

      A better day started with Eric drinking coffee with hid Division Officers:

      "I've read the overnight logs and nothing strange was in them. Was there anything ordinary thatwe need to be concerned about?"

      "No, sir," his Fusion Reactor officer replied, "everything was normal and the standard level fourscans showed nothing unusual."

      "Well, Susan, sometimes 'normal' can be deceiving. Sometimes, the order is which 'normalevents' occurrs can be a sign of problems. Sometimes not but you can never tell."

      Master Chief Lynch, who for some reason liked to sit in on the MPA meetings, rolled his eyesand had managed to keep his laugh from coming out.

      "Good point, Eric and I'll think about it."

      When Eric supposedly wasn't looking, Ensign Susan Burke wrote on her comms padd: "do alevel 6 scan on the reactors   the old farts seem concerned"

      The reply was "which old farts??"

      "The L T and the Master Chief"

      "I'll do a level 8 on most important and level 7 on the rest"

      "She smilled and closed her padd; she'd been paying attention to the rest of the meeting andparticularily liked listening to her L T and Master Chief talk about "drafting our imparital evalsto help shape careers". It was humourous to listen to two very honest leaders talk about (in effect)lying on "impartial" evals...

      After their division officers and senior officers left, Master Chief Lynch laughed.

      "Problems can occurr if the order of normal reports is out of order? Eric, where did you comeup with that idea?"

      "Well, Big Chief, sometimes good ideas come right out of my mouth without bothering mybrain."

      "Not too often, I hope...sir."

      "No, sir, Master Chief, sir and certainly not enough for me to be a Master Chief! So, Jain, Iguess I'm stuck as an Engineering Officer."

      Master Chief Lynch rolled his eyes, laughed and left Eric's office with Eric's best coffee cup.Eric would later go to the Master Chief's office and retrieve his coffee cup and maybe snag oneof Jain Lynch's favourite hard bound books. It was a game they both enjoyed.

      After a couple of hours, the Captain called:

      "Eric, we're dropping out of warp so your people can work on the warp core. Is everythingready?"

      "Yes, sir, it is. I'll be directly supervising the work."

      "Great. Bridge out."

      Commander Jackson stood with Eric watching the preliminary work for a while and then theChief Engineer sighed and wandered off to his office, where at least a hundred routine reportsawaited his review. It was the end of the quarter and Commander Daniel Jackson had to puttogether his quarterly input to the annual Ship's History. Actually, he would read and edit(slightly) the input his Administrative Chief and the Master Chief had put together.

      The warp core stood in the middle of a large room, like the altar to a primative and brutal God.The engineers had removed the various shields and moitoring equipment. One of the "OldChiefs" looked at one of the four matter injectors. Eric was next to him and also examining thetwo matter injectors they could see.

      "We're about to remove the port matter injector, sir."

      "Who's going to do this?"

      "Younger Spencer."

      "Didn't he remove the last two injectors? You know, I'm getting out of practice."

      "Would you like to remove the port matter injector? Sir."

      "Now that you mention it, I think I will."

      Both men pulled their heads out of the reactor and Eric put on a equiment belt. Then, he startedworking his way into the "machine" and as he disassembled gear, he passed it back to thoseoutside. He eventually go the injeftor out and passed it back.

      "Well, I'm ready to put the spare in."

      "Good but our Susan will put it in."

      "Our Susan" didn't look so thrilled at Chief Jackson's order but went ahead and did a fine job.

      "Eric would later learne that several of his crew had taken flat and holography imagery of thebottom half of his body sticking out of the warp rector. Eric's 13 year old sister would take alarge flat image of her brother's buttocks (sticking out of the reactor) and put it up on her walland label it "My Brother Putting His Best Face Forward". This image also won her honours at herMiddle School's "Remember Our Veterans Day".

      He could also be apauled at the number of folks who put up this image on their walls...

     

      Eric took the injector with him and entered the work center where three old Senior Chiefsworked on the injectors. They sat at a circular table, with monitors built into the table, test leadsdiscretely recessed into the table and tools arrayed near them. Eric sat at the one empty chair andplaced the injector in front of him.

      Then, he waited for the "old men" to react. Finally, one did.

      "Thank you for bringing that injector in, sir, we'll get to that injector this afternoon", one of the"old farts" stated.

      "You midunderstand Senior Chief, I'm here to learn how to overhaul this."

      There was a long pause.

      "Why?"

      "The injectors are the most sensitive pieces of gear on this boat. You're the closest Star Fleethas to Master Artisans and generally flunk out most of the apprentices we send you. I know thetheory but need to know the reality."

      "Are you planning on retiring us and having undertrained crewmen replace us?"

      "Eric had been warned these three worried about being "shitcanned like an old targ".

      "No, sir, we're not planning on forcing you to retire. You're like those old Swiss watch makers.They did some very detailed and some very delicate work. My engineering classes taught me thatinjectors have to be done to very precise tolorances and that knowing just how much to turn ascrew or tap on something is a art. I've been told it's harder to find a person who can do this thanit is to find someone who can do old fashioned neuro surgery. However, none of you areimmortal and we need you to train the next generation of 'grumpy old Senior Chiefs'. It'll takemore of your time and you'll have less time to run your divisions but it will be worth it. I canarrange for you to pick candidates from anyone on the ship, not just engineering."

      "The three old Senior Chiefs looked at each other, communed in some non-verbal manner andnodded.

      "We're agreed then, sir and will pick the best candidates. We've had our eyes on that newEnsign working on her sensor and ship driving quals. We want her and we'll give you the namesof several others."

      "Agreed and give me the name of that Ensign and you'll have her. Who else?"

      "Well, we've been wondering if we'd need to drag in one of the officers..."

      "Which one?" Eric was a bit surprised and was curious.

      "A young fart, a fairly intelligent lad named Eric Randall Bellingham."

      Eric was surprised and pleased.

      "Well, gentlemen, I'm here."

      "Master Chief Lynch and Commander Jackson both looked in on the training and were bothamused by the attitude changes.

      The three Senior Chiefs started giving him advise as Eric did a reasonably good job ofdismantling and rebuilding the matter injector. At first, he was "sir" or "Lieutenant" but near theend of the four hour procedure he had become "Eric" or "lad". It was fairly amusing given two ofthe Senior Chiefs were the age of Eric's grandfathers and the third his Grandmother's age (andshe looked a lot like his Great-great-Aunt). The three remembered Eric from when he'd been a"Passed Midshipman" and in their opinions, that rated as mid-range Enlisted...

      Eric didn't have hands as steady as his teachers but he managed to get the work done. Finally, hewas left with the injector in two parts. The bottom two thirds and the rest, which simply had to beplaced on top of the big assembly. The monitors and more important, the three mentors, agreedthe work was done properly. Eric waited for one of the three to say "good job, lad but we'll re-doit". This didn't happen.

      "Well, Eric, put the top on and lock her down."

      Eric did.

      The sensors agreed the work was done within specs.

      Senior Chief Mary Margarret Lennier bellowed into the air: "Jain Lynch, we know you'rewatching! This young man did a fine job and now we need to install this injector as 'proof ofconcept'. Jain Lynch, we appreciate you've voluenteered to do this installing and you may do sonow."

      Master Chief Lynch responded over the compartment's PA system: "I'll do the job but it's 1400and none of you have eatten lunch. You will eat while I start the preliminaries."

      Another of the Senior Chiefs shrugged and told Eric: "It does him good to show a little humilityoccasionally."

      "Humility?"

      "Have you ever seen Lynch's butt? He's getting a bit of 'swivel chair spead'."~Truthfully, I try very hard to avoid looking at his butt."

      "What about that new MD? The girl? Have you looked at her bvtt?"

      "Well, I've got to go. Got to go watch our Master Chief tear into my...our...warp reactor."

      Eric got out very quickly and could feel himself blush. The new MD, one Emmily Quewly wassomeone he got along with very well but there was nothing romantic in the friendship. "DocEmmily" was becoming the person he was most likely to eat meals with in the Wardroom whenhe wasn't dining with his officers and Chiefs.

      The Senior Chiefs must have seen something Eric hadn't because the three "old farts" crackedup as soon as the hatch was shut.

     

      The three "old farts" trained and qualified fourteen injector techs over the several months.

     

      Some mornings are quieter than others and on one, after reading the reports and finding nothingto be alarmed about and after reading the night sensor scans (he used problem findingprogrammes actually), he turned to a report he'd never read before: Discarded Items. It was full ofdiscarded tri-corders, engineering tools and a few other things. He looked into the status reportsof these items and they were all either old dated and thus replaced or mostly items that could berepaired with a little work. The idea of simply shit canning them bothered him. He decided tolook into it at the Engineering Staff Meeting.

     

      TAMERLANE had spent the past week doing "refresher training" at a target range near a whitedwarf star. The bridge crews had fired torpedos, phasers and their "experimental" disrupters(experimental to the Klingons 20 years before) at various asteroids and targets. They had to usethe torpedoes or Star Fleet Supply would have no one to send replacement torpedoes to andmight have to cut production. (The upcoming Dominion War would need their over-production.)

      "Well, did everyone have a good time this past week?" Commander Jackson was amused by theEngineer Drills.

      "It was a lot of fun", Eric replied.

      All the Engineering Officers and a number of their crew had been "allowed" (ordered toactually) to use the phasers and distrupters to "attack" various targets. It had been great fun but inthe future, wouldn't seem so amusing...

      Eric had been allowed to fire a single torpedo and had destroyed part of a salvaged RomuleanWarbird that had been brought there years before. The idea of shooting up a real War Bird (withreal Romulans inside) vaguely bothered Eric.

      "I understand the bridge boys are planning a 'cake and cookies' session to celebrate theirsuccesses over the targets and the dead ships. It seems their fifteen torpedo salvo has made theStar Fleet news channels and even gotten TAMERLANE noticed." Master Chief Lynch wasdisguested.

      They really weren't supposed to be advertising that the old TAMERLANE had too manyweapons systems and that the Romulans and their pseudo-allies the Klingons should payattention to them.

      "I hear a new batch of 'torpedo juice' is about ready?" The Chief Engineer knew exacly how"ready" this home made booze was; the fractional distillation still had been "secretly" set up onthe mid shift and CDR Jackson had personally wired the heater elements into the ship's powersystem. It would be raw but it would be a memorable addition to the upcoming ship's party.

      Finally, even a staff meeting as great as this had to come to an end.

      "There being no other bvsiness, we're ajurned."

      The Master Chief didn't rise because he never did and Eric remained seated since he wanted aprivate word with his bosses.

      "What's on your mind, Lieutenant?"

      "I've noticed how many pieces of small equipment are being shit canned to salvage. I looked atthe status reports of most of this gear this morning. A lot of the engineering tools just need a littlerepair work."

      "You've just noticed, Eric?" CDR Jackson was frowning.

      "No, sir, I've looked at these reports weekly. But, they're Master Chief's business and I've neverreally had enought time to look into the matter. I'm just wondering why we don't fix and use thisgear?"

      The Master Chief replied: "Because we're not permitted to, sir. Supply buys a lot of gear fromFederation worlds that still use 'money' and we support their economies that way. Some tools arebought from outside the Federation and we need to keep that supply line open. Oh, we couldmake these tools inside the Federation but this way, the Federation doesn't need to tool upfactories and possibly violate some Alien's 'Interstellar Patent'."

      "But why just shit can this stuff. Can't we field strip out the useful parts and do repairs inhouse?"

      "We've never been told not to; there is an implied prohibition of this."

      "Eric nodded to his Department Head and started to rise when a solution occurred to him.

      "Boss, are we permitted to give away some of this rejected material?"

      "Yes and we do through the Salvage Diviison."

      "Could we sell some of this stuff, say to the Ferengi?"

      "People usually don't sell to the Ferengi; they usually cheat folks out of stuff or simply steal it."

      "Perhaps, gentlemen, if we did minor repairs on some of the gear, we could sell it to theFerengi. We could use the excuse that repairing old tri-corders gives the Engineering staffpractice at depot level maintenance. The 'injector Chiefs' bitch about personnel being 'great atswapping out big parts but bad at doing detail work'. That's not true because a lot of detailedwork has to be done but we could use the excuse."

      "I'll look into it. Oh, by the way, after my hooch gets run through the carbon charcoal, wouldyou mind taking a sample to 'Doc Emilly' to get medical's approval. If you sample it, I'll give youthe rest of the day off."

      "Yes, sir, I will! What time, sir?"

      "Right before lunch would be fine, Eric."

      After Eric had left, the Master Chief commented to the Chief Engineer: "You're justencouraging the boy. We both know they'll drink the sample and get relaxed and start acting likethier dating."

      "Someone has to."

     

      When Eric had been on active duty for three years, he was promoted to Full Lieutenant. He gota really nice cake, imaages were taken of him being kissed (on the cheek) by LTjg EmmilyLeFere (MD) and Senior Chief Anna Haskell (S/MC) and a Command Track midshpman namedRo Larien, who couldn't have been more than 20 years old. It was the sight of Eric kissing Emillyback that fueled many rumours about those tow.

     

      The Chief Engineer went into the Captain's "at sea cabin" and waited till the door shut behindhim.

      "Morning, Big Bob", he said to Captain Robert McMillian, "do you have a few minutes?"

      "Have a seat, Dan and maybe my Anna can bring in some coffee cake and coffe for us?"

      About 30 seconds later, the Administrative Chief swept in with a tray carrying two cups, acoffee caraf and the coffee cake. A tub of butter was there for the spreading. She glared at "BigBob", probably for calling her "my Anna" (which was was).

      The two men sat and gave their attention to the coffee and coffee cake.

      "Good snack, Bob but really not why I dropped by. Young Eric has had an interesting idea. Hementioned repairing our gear we surplus out."

      "Supply would shit if we did."

      "He also brought up the idea of selling or trading repaired get to the Ferengi. The repairingwould be good for my people and we all have lists of things we'd like to buy outside thehegedmony." (He meant the Federation.)

      There was a pause.

      "I see this as a four part problem, Dan. One, what can we repair that the Ferengi would buy?Two, can we get permission from the proper people? Three, how would be made contact with theproper Ferengui and four, how could we arrange for the sales or trades to occurr? Anna, pleasecome in."

      The good Administrative Chief Petty Officer entered her Captain's office.

      "Perhaps we should start with getting a stock of surplused gear repaired and seeing what wehave to offer. I know a few officials who have been swapping stuff with the Ferengui for yearsand maybe they'll set up something. I'll contact the proper people. We'll need someone tonegociate with the buyer and we'll need folks to transport the items. Anna, do you suppose someof our 'Marines' could handle it?"

      "Certainly, sir. Now, if you get permission for this to happen and if you (here she looked at theChief Engineer) have good items to sell or trade, then I'll personally handle the sales or tradesmyself Robert. I know a Fergenui on that Bajorian station who is easy to work with."

      She smilled and only "her Robert" knew that Anna had been giving the Fergenui (called Quark)"umblots" for years. She had bought intelligence information and various items of interestingalien tech by being willing to provide latinum and umlots to Quark. That umlots amounted tomasterbation didn't bother her.

      Anna had a new hand lotion she wanted to try on Quark anyway...

     

      Later that morning, Dan Jackson told Eric the "trade or sell" attempt was moving forward.When the tech monitoring the subspace communicatons told Eric and Dan "the Old Man has setup a high powered and encryped comms link one of the 'Captain's Only channels' to FederationBase 12", he knew his idea had gotten started. When he took a liter sample of the "booze" to"Doc Emmily" to be tested, he didn't realize his boss and the Master Chief had set him on adate...~

     

      One of the true quirks of using anti-matter is that no one, not even the Klingons want to produceit anywhere near their inhabitated solar systems. Even the Norsacon, those wild men of the stars,made it a death penality matter to create anti-matter near one of their solar systems. It was wellknown that the only time the Norsasans cooperated with any other race was in running down,trying and executing those who violated the ban against creating anti-matter within an inhabitatedsolar system.

      However, every interstellar race used anti-matter within their solar systems.

      The reason was simple: anti-matter was created by changing the "quark signature" of normalmatter and then saving the newly created anti-matter. The problem was the creation systemsometimes went outside the desired area and a number of minor moons had been "accidentallydestroyed" in the creation of anti-matter.

      It was a fine afternoon when Eric was discussing the status of TAMERLANE's refuelingsystem. There were four anti-matter acceptance system. The Senior Chief had taken three off linefor an equipment upgrade. The fourth system would work under normal circumstances, with onlya .04% probability of failure; failure that would destroy the TAMERLANE and probably therefueling ship. This was an acceptable risk but fortunately they were not scheduled for refueling.

      "Eric reviewed the status panels and was pleased with the results. Then, in an event thereminded Eric of something he had once read: "Irony is the axis of the universe" by Alan DeanFoster.

      His comms panel chimed and the Captain's voice spoke:

      "Eric, we've had an unexpected surprise: a refueling ship has come to us. It seems they lost theirCommanding Officer and they had to transfer him to a Vulcan ship."

      "What happened?"

      "I'll let his former First tell you."

      The face of an old Klingon appeared on Eric's viewer. The old Klingon wore a Star FleetCommand uniform but also wore a Bajoran Vedic's ear ring, the Sword of the Order of theBa'lick, a medal worn by Priests of Kalass and the c--- of an Earther Medical Doctor. It was thestrangest thing Eric had ever seen. Behind him was another Klingon, one with a couple of largebruises one his head. A human was looking at the bruised Klingon and silently lautghing.

      "I am General Wand, acting Comanding Officer of the Federation Fueling Vessle 97, currentlycalled the "GLENDA JANE". So, Bob, do you have anyone in need of therapy...er...qualified to command my boat?"

      "Not now, my friend."

      "Soon enough, I suppose." The General looked amused.

      "How did your Second Officer get so bruised?"

      "Our Vulcan Commander was stressed out about his inability to achieve total destruction of his emotions. Second kept harrassing him about points of Vulcan Doctrine. First, he would understnad it, then he would misunderstand it and he would misreprent the Sacred Vulcan Doctrine. Finally, well, why don't we just watch the security recording:"

      A Vulcan LCDR in a Commmand uniform stood in front of his desk holding a very thick book. In front of him was the Klingon Second Officer.

      The Second Officer asked: "Your prophet says a Vulcan must control his emotions. Right?"

      "Yes."

      "This suggests Vulcans had emotions before your Prophet?"

      "Yes." The Vulcan was actually looking pupzzled.

      "Were Vulcans worthy after they learned to control their emotions?"

      "Yes!"

      "Were Vulcans considered worthy before they learned to control their emotions?

      "Well, yes, to a certain extent."

      "So, Vulcans gained merit by gaining control of their emotions?"

      "Of course!" The Vulcan proudly held up the Book.

      ""Then, of course, if a Vulcan were to cycle from violent to refined and back a few times, he would gain much merit. Yes?"

      "That isn't exactly the way redemption works but it is an apt description." The Vulcan's left eye was twitching wildly and he was actually showing irritation.

      "If it is all right to start out unrefined and it is fine to cycle from primative emotional to refined and back, why bother? Why worry about going from the choas of emotions to the purity of no apparent emotions. Why not have the art form of selected emotions? Are you afraid you'll not be able to select the emotions you wish to feel? Is that your concern, Bucko? Are you afraid of losing control of the emotions you manefast?"

      The Vulcan LCDR roared "That is not how it works!" In a fine rage he used his Holy Book to slap the Klingon across the left side of his face. The Klingon was stggered and stumbled to hisright.

      "I suppose so..."

      The Vulcan roared in pure rage: "Heathen!" and then reared back, swung the book over his head and slammed the Klingon hard enough to knock him out.

      The Vulcan looked so angry, so feral, that one could easily remember that Vulcans had once been a violent race on the verge of self destruction. (No wonder they conflicted with humans!)

      The recording ended.

      "You see, Bob, my Vulcan Commanding Officer realzied he couldn't totally control his emotions but his could sort of control them. So, he has generally recovered his poise and is a reasonably unemotional Vulcan. There are a few times when emotions pop out but he has realzied he can't expect to find total unemotion. His relationships with his family have greatly improved and his is now one of the finest Vulcan Fathers around. All it took was for my Second Officer, 'Rose Bud', to get whacked across the head!"

      The human was the first to laugh and both Klingons joined him.

      "He seemed to lose his self control very quickly. Spock would never have done so."

      "This LCDR was merely a Vulcan; Ambassador Spock was of mixed heritage and had the advantage of 'hybrid vigor'."

      There was a pauce after First Officer, General Wand, spoke.

      "Oh," the Klingon General remarked, "did I mention this human is my Chief Engineer? He really helped drive our beloved Vulcan Commander to his breakdown!"

      There was a moment of silence.

      "He has a very Klingon sense of humour!"

      The three on the oddly named "boat" laughed and the bridge feed went dead. LT Bellingham and his Senior Chief looked at each other and both rolled their eyes. It was a fine moment.

      Five minutes later, the bridge announced that refueling was about to commence. Erid pulled upscrenes to monitor all four of the anti-matter intake feeds.

      "Senior Chief, command doctrine puts you in charge and I'm not allowed to cancel this fuelfeeding but I still have to say: tell the bridge to cancel the intake!"

      The prelim to the anti-matter intake started, seveal icons that were always a "safe" blue on themonitoris turned blood red and Eric slammed on the speaker button and bellowed: "Cancel thefuel load! Cancel it now! We have a little problem here and will need several minutes to getready. Engineering out! Senior Chief, get those other feed lines fixed as quickly as possible!Don't argue Leonard James, I have a very bad feeling about this!"

      Senior Chief chivveyed his "troops" into fixing the three "out of service" anti-matter refuelinglines; they were done in near record time. Then, Eric keyed the comms line to the bridge andspoke:

      "Bridge, Engineering, We're ready to receive the anti-matter."

      The "fuel" began to enter the ship, a surge of unknown particles rushed down the primary fuelline, the entire line failed and the routing controll was able to switch the surge of anti-matter intoone of the three repaired fuel lines before ship was destroyed.

      The Senior Chief was furious that he'd been made to look like a fool. This reacton quicklyended when he realzied his boss was in shock and that Eric's face had actually turned a very palewhite.

      "Senior Chief, have you ever seen partical traces like this? That feed line shold never havefailed! The alternative feed lines? Why didn't they fail as well? Why are we still alive and whatthe Hades did those people doto us?"

      "The Senior Chief looked at the evidence of the events which lead to the failure of the mainfueling line and blanched as well. They called the bridge and reported "refueling is nominal;engineering out."

      "Then they spend several weeks studying the matter. The fact that the Klingonn General hadadvised "we had a Tetrion Leakage into the fueling lines and here is all we know about Tetrions"didn't help much.

      TAMERLANE had come very close to be destroyed and LT Eric EricRandall Bellinghamwanted to find out why!

      Eric spent the next two years studying all of this and came up with some research ideas. Itseemed the particular environment on TAMERLANE was unique; it was comprised of ancienttechnology and some "bleeding edge" Fleet tech. He took graduate level courses in the mathrequired to study "tetrion physics"; one of his Ensigns had finished his PhD in some highlyadvanced math while attending the Academy. The truly odd thing about this officer was that hecould instruct folks so well that his subjects made sense. This Ensign was a dead shoe-in foreither a Chief Engineer job at a very young age or a researcher/instructor at the Academy.

      The Federation Research Consol was impressed with Eric's ideas and recommended that he begiven six months to research them and to present a thesis. An "associate" of the very covert"Section 31" saw some interesting possibilities and reported his notions to a Senior Officer in"Section 31" who also served on the Staff of Fleet Intelligence. These notions came to theattention of the Head of Intelligence, Fleet Admiral Nyota (U)penda Uhura. However, she wasn't told of the "Section 31" connection.

     

      TAMERLAN was ordered back to Earth and told to drop off "Bellingham, Eric Randall" onTemporary Duty at Star Fleet Academy.

     

      Eric was called into his Captain's office.

      "You've been given a very rare opportunity, not very many officers get the chance to take timeoff and do this kind of research. Use your time well and bring useful information back to us."

      "Yes, sir, I will. Hopefully, I can figure out what nearly went wrong on that refueling."

      Several minutes later, Eric was dismissed and went back to his home: Engineering.

     

      The TAMERLAN arrived back at Earth and docked at a medium sized fleet station. This stationnormally had several smaller Star Fleet vessels "tied up" to it but on this day, TAMERLAN wasthe only vessel there.

      Eric sat at the Observer's Seat near the Warp Core reactor and observed. The SeniorEngineering Watch Officer sat in front of Eric and tried not to appear nervous. He might as wellnot made the attempt as Commadner Lynch and Master Chief Jackson were clearly amused andoccasionally snickered. It was most disconcerting for the young officer.

      From the bridge came:

      "All stop" (The impulse engines were shut off on the Bridge by the "Helmsman" and the "JuniorEngineer of the Watch" had been ready to slap the "kill button" as had the Senior Engineer of theWatch and the Technician First Class who sat at the manual controls to the inpulse engines.)

      "Engage tractors" (The ship's tractors pulled TAMERLANE towards the indicated dockingposition on the station.)

      "Disengage tractors. Engage final docking programme." (The tractors were shut off and thesame engineers prepared to hit their "kill switches". Manuevering thrusters were activated andnudged the TAMERLANE neatly into position for docking.)

      "We're docked. Verify status of docking port connections for personnel ports #1 and #2. Secure(shut down) warp core (the Senior Engineering Officer of the Watch supervised the Warp CoreRector Officer as she and her technicians securred this reactor). Prepare to switch to stationpower. (Eric's people put three of the four fusion reactors on standby but left the fourth fullyworking). Switch to station power. (This meant all ship generated power was to be shut off butEngineering never did that. Instead, they allowed station generated power to flow into their shipand only when Engineering was sure they could trust the station power would they secure thefinal reactor.)

      Finally, the Bridge announced "Secure special detail and set Condition four through out theship" and everyone began to shut down unneeded equipment. An officer and Enlisted Aide weresent to the official docking port and started their "in-port watch" there; a Chief and juniorEnlisted Aide went to the other docking port and started their "in-port watch" there.

      Other ships allowed the public somewhat free access, with hopes that computerized face andbody recognization sysems as well as implanted ID beacons could keep track of who was on theship. Captain Robert McMillian agreed with his predecessors in the belief that a Warship sholdhave tight security. His First Officer, Commander Clark "Laser Eyes" Gray often thought "Bob"was just a touch soft on access control as it was...

     

      Eric expected to meet his parents in Seattle and had already sent most of his luggage to theapartment he'd be using in San Francisco. He carried a clothing bag with several changes ofclothing and underwear; he was dressed in a hawaiin design tunic, black trousers that lokedsuspeciously like a midshipman's work trousers and his Fleet issue work boots. "One thing youcould say about Eric, he always knows how to dress nicely", Emmily thought with fond irony.She was waiting for Eric just inside the station, Eric walked over to her.

      "Are you ready to leave?"

      "Yes."

      They got in line at one of the transporters and materialized in Seattle. Eric looked at her, gentlytook her hand and said "Let's see if my family mae it here?"

      Eric's family - his parents and 15 year old sister - were there to greet him. After the initial hugs,Eric introducted Emmily around.

      "Mom, Dad, brat, this is Emmily Lafere, a friend of mine and Emmily, my Mom, Dad and thebrat."

      "The Brat" punched Eric's arm.

      "My name is Kaylee, not 'Brat' and I'm 'Dog Breath's' sister. 'Dog Breath' has said so many nicethings about you that I thought you'd be three meters tall and you're not, you're almost as short asme."

      Eric was about 6 feet tall, Emmily about 5'8" and his "little sister" perhaps 5'7" and had another5" of growth to go. "The Brat" would end up a tall, slender and stately lady but that would besome time in coming.

      Emmily's family lived on a planet of Epsilon Eridanus and being 10.8 light years away andgiven it took a warp 4 transport two months and two days to get to earth, it was too far Emmily'sfamily to come to Earth and visit. After several days visit, Emmily had to return to theTAMMERLANE but she had already found a second family. Emmily got along particuliarly wellwith Kaylee.

     

      Eric"s experimentation was going well. He had a team of five grad students who helped himcreqt and run experiments and he was working on the math one night four months into his work.He stii had two months left for working on his research but his thesis was nealy done and he'dpassed his orals. He was working on the math and his mentor was reading the results.

      "Eric, you made a mistake here." The mentor, Dr. Bryan Heinlein, pinted at one equation.

      "Hummm, damn but you're right! The correct shoud be?"

      The Mentor wrote down a different equation.

      "You're right, I made a mistake. Actually, I'm not sure I made a mistake. I made some standardtransformations of the next equation and that resulted in some familiar equations. I tgried severalsolutions of this differential equation and got some interesting stuff."

      "Let's test them."

      The two men simulated the results of Eric's "mistakes" and came up with some very interestingstuff. One result caused Eric's Mentor to gasp.

      "Ok, what is the problem?"

      "Did you know anything about the Romulan cloaking devices?"

      "No."

      "Well, they use some kind of fields that change the characteristics of space and our sensors lookright around the field. But this means that firing the tetrion particles with the correct energy levelwill interact with all possible Romoulan style cloaks and create the right decay products."

      "Actually, the interaction will cause the tetrions to decay into unknown particle number 2 andunknonwn particle number 2 decays into unknown particle number 3. That's what those particleresults mean and my math supports it. Those results look familiar..."

      "You can't talk about this ever."

      "Both Mentor and student were horribly shocked. Eric's lab was 40 stories below the surface. (Atechnology that can create force fields around Star Ships found no problems in protecting deeplyset basements from earthquakes and the water table. The room was heaily shields andtransporters couldn't work in it; the only entrance was an ancient elevator and that sat, with doorlocked open, in easy view of the room's occupants. There was no way the intruder could havegotten in the room but there he was.

      "Who are you? How did you get here? What do you mean we can't talk about this research?"

      "One of my researchers made this mistake about 22 years ago and we've used it to monitor theRoumulans. We can track them easier when they're cloaked than when they're not. I'll give you acopy of the paper which explains the transformation you used Mr. Bellingham."

      "Thank you, sir."

      "I would like to get your reaction to this paper, Dr. Heinlein."

      The stranger reached over to an empty tabletop and picked up a copy of a paper that hadn't beenthere before the stranger had distacted Heinlein and Bellinham. The strange then talked both menthrought he paper.

      "So, as you can see, the transformaton you made by accident can be justified by the correctmathematics; this math just happends to be highly classified and something not likely to be foundby accident. You can study this paper down here but it must stay down here. Can you live withthis, gentlemen?"

      "Yes, sir. Were you responsible for me being assigned the computer faciltiy down here."

      "Yes, Erid, I was."

      "You can read this paper on your computer and use the math programmes on this computer butthis computer only."

      "Did you read the version I created on this computer?"

      "Yes."

      Both Bellingham and Heinlein were very disturbed. Eric's computer was stand alone and didn'tconnect with any communications systems at all. The computer was powered by a disposablebattery that held an incredible amout of power. When this battery was expired, the interior was sotoxic that the battery was simply taken to a higher level of the complex and disassembled by a transporter intoit's component parts. There was no way these batteries could have been "impressed" with the dataflowing through the computer and were completely destroyed.

      The stranger could no more have monitored the computer than he could have appearee in this"transporter safe" room. That really impressed Eric!

      This was fascinating and burned itself into Eric's memory.

      An alarm went off on a monitor and the stranger was gone when Heinlein turned back toaddress him.

     

      Eric and his mentor worked on the "corrected" equation and came up with some interestingresults. These alone would have guarenteed Eric's PhD. Dr. Heinlein applied some of the "newmath" he'd learned and came up with some incredible results.

      Finally, Eric was done with his PhD and had figured out why the tetrion particles had nearlydestroyed his ship. Now, he was ready to go home. But, before that happened, FADM Uhura visited him and gave him access to some highly classified programmes. That access woudl later come in handy...

      The TAMERLANE had spent those six months in drills: damage control drill, various weaponsdrills and even infantry landing drills in conjunction with two battalions of Star Fleet Security(Marine) troops. The image of the TAMERLANE leading the two heavy troop carriers was apopular one. When TAMERLANE returned to Earth, her crew was in need of rest, they had folkstransferring off and ever a few leaving Star Fleet, new personnel coming to TAMERLANE andtheir Main Propulsion Assistant was to return with his newly received PhD.

      The TAMERLANE docked at Space Dock Montegomery Scott and nearly all her officers andcrew left.

      In the late evening, Captain Robert McMillian was alone in his cabin and planned on levingabout a half hour later. It bothered him that several of his crew were planning on remaining onTAMERLAN for several days. He didn't like it but he couldn't do much about it. He was relievedwhen his cmputer informed him he had an incoming call.

      He accepted the call and saw a young woman, a teenager actually, smiling nervously at him.

      "I am Captain McMillian. What can I do for you, Miss Bellingham?"

      She was surprised at being recognized for Kaylee didn't realize that Emmily LaFere had linedthe wall of her office with pictues of her, her family and of Emmily with both Eric and Kaylee.(There were also pictures the LaFere family as welll.)

      Captain McMillian waited patiently.

      "Captain, I dont' want to bother you but Emmily just told me she doesn't have leave and I'd liketo see her. Is there any way she can get time off?"

      "Miss Bellingham, may I call you Kaylee?" (Kaylee nodded "yes".) Well, Kaylee, Emmilydidn't request leave and I think she didn't want to impose herself on your family."

      "Oh, no, sir, she wouldn't be imposing herself. She can stay with me and my parents won'tmind. Besides, Eric is coming over tomorrow."

      In the background, Bellingham senior shrugged and nodded "yes".

      "Very well, then, I'll give Emmily two weeks leave and you can arrange where she stays. Is thatacceptable?"

      "Yes!"

      "I'll need several minutes to tell Emmily to take leave."

      Captain McMillian walked down the empty passageways of ship and rang Emmily LeFere'sdoorbell. She answered the door wearing a sweatsuit.

      "Emmily, are you planning on going ashore?"

      "Yes, sir, in a few days. I was going to ask you for leave."

      "I grant you 14 days leave, starting effective immediately. I can extend this leave if you needmore time."

      "I really don't know anyone I can visit with."

      "Haven't you gotten mail from anyone? Are you sure you don't know anyone who'd welcome avisit from you?"

      The Captain thought it might as well have said "Kaylee wants you to visit" but he thought to bediscrete.

      "Well, I could call Eric's sister..."

      "That sounds like a fine idea."

      She went back into her quarters and made the phone call. Captain McMillian was amused bythe enthusiasm he heard from both young women.

      "I'd like to take that leave, sir."

      "We're in space dock and not allowed to use transporters. If you're going to leave tonight, you'llhave to take the shuttle, which leaves in 7 minutes."

      "Oh shit, I'll never get ready that quickly!"

      "May I come in and help you pack?"

      "Yes, sir. I'll go pack my carry bag."

      While Emmily began packing a small suitcase with the minimal makesup she used, CaptianMcMillian opened her closet. There he selected a brightly colored blouse and light blue trousersand hung them over a door knob. He then picked out a dress uniform, an undress uniform,several shirts and trousers and placed them in a clothing bag. He carried this bag over to herdresser and picked out several sets of underwear for her. He looked at the three "swimsuits"Emily had: one rather modest two piece suit, a large one piece (bottom only) and a thong (whichshocked him). He put these in the carrying case and put several sets of shoes (already in carryingbags) in the carrying case and sealed it up.

      Emmily came, ripped off her sweatsuit and stood in front of her closet dressed in herunderwear. (Captain McMillian and his wife had raised three daughters and the sight of girls oryoung women running around in their underwear simply didn't bother him. He handed Emmilytrousers and the blouse. She dressed and he put her carrying case in a pocket of the uniformcarrying bag. Together, they ran down the corridors and left the ship. McMillian called theshuttle craft and asked them to wait. The shuttle crew agreed.

      When they arrived at the enterance to the shuttle, Emmily handed her clothing bag to the shuttlecrewman and began to wedge her feet into the sandals her Captain had carried. The crewmanlaughed and said "take your time, we can make up the time!"

      Emmily waved at her Captain and prepared for the rare event of actually going from orbit toplanet in a craft vice transporter.

      Captain McMillian returned to his cabin, finished packing his luggage and took his leave of hisship. A junior officer who had litterally drawn the short end of the straw, waved CaptainMcMillian off his ship.

     

      She received a warm welcome from Eric's family for they were quite fond of her. It was a goodthing she'd taken a nap that day for the room she shared with Kaylee had twin beds and Kayleekept the conversation running by calling from her bed "are you asleep?" "No." Then theconversation would restart...

     

      The day of His graduation, Eric was visited by Fleet Admiral Uhura. In the months since she'dlearned of Eric's discovery, the Fleet Admiral had visited Eric a number of times and they'dbecome friends (or at least as much as a Fleet Admiral and a Lieutenant could become while bothwere on active duty). She told him that an experimental Tetron based weapon had been added tothe TAMERLANE. Captain McMillian has a good understanding of the weapon's nature andyour boss, Daniel Jackson was also briefed and will cover for any power used. Your securityChief knows there is an experimental piece of equipment in that compartment and will not enter.I hope you never need to try this weapon but if you need it, use it!"

      "How does it work, ma'am?"

      "We're not sure; we just know that the interaction of our tetron beams with a standard warpreactor results in the creation of strange particles and a most improbable warp core explosion.Perhaps you can explain the physics?"

      "Yes, Admiral." Fleet Admiral Uhara grinned at the young man's discomfort and didn't expectany answers any time soon...

     

      The TAMERLANE's officers and crew went to Eric's PhD grauation.

      The First Officer's reactions when he congratulated Eric were puzzling.

      "Nice job, Eric, nicely done." "Laser Eyes" was very sincere and so was his wife. Then, shesmirked at her husband and she said: "A P H D! Wow! That makes you a VERY well educatedindividual, doesn't it Eric?"

      "Yes, ma'am."

      Then, Commander Clark Gray smirked at Eric: "Such a good education! Such a shame to letthis resource go to waste! Don't you agree, Skipper?"

      Captain McMillian smilled broadly and said "Yes, indeed, Clark, it would be a shame to letsuch a resource go to waste!"

      "You are now the training officer. May yu reign over the training office for many, many, manyyears to come!'

      Then Eric remembered the amount of "paperwork" First Officer "Laser Eyes" and his staff oftwo had to do for Eric to be admitted to Post Grad School. He suddenly remembered hiow manytimes he'd asked the Training Office to arrange for courses. There were times when entiredivisions of crew were signed up for classes and the Training Officer (i.e. the First Officer)would bellow at personnel for not doing the course work on a timely basis. Eric would repent forhis sins against the "old" Training Officer...

      The "old" Training Officer mentioned that he'd like to take some advanced education anddiscussed with the CO what courses the bridge personnel could take. They thought of quite afew...

     

      Finally, the leave was over and TAMERLANE left for fleet exercises. While TAMERLANEhad been in the Space Dock for maintenance, the work required had not been serious.

      Although it took several weeks, Eric re-integrated into Engineering as if he'd nver left. The onlyproblems were the amazing amount of shear "paperwork" required by the "Training Department"and the amusement many people seemed to take at his attempts to get crew members to properlysign up for classes, to work on the courses let alone complete them and to be available for thereqired testing. Then, there was the required testing. He had "students" who "pretended" to becheating simply to make him run around the "classroom". He didn't think "Laser Eyes" had anappropriate attitude; it seemed his "Beloved XO" was tutoring Eric's "students" in how to messwith "the Teacher's Mind".

      The other item were the emergency drills. He didn't mind having to do them, he minded howthey were done. He bitched to the training officer about drills that were done the same way yearafter year and about drills that were put on hold because a "critical person" had gone to the heador was otherwise away from their work space when the drill was called. He thought that everyoneshould have a good working idea of how to respond. It didn't gain him friends...

     

      Eric waited until the weekly Engineering Staff Meeting was nearly over before raising his hand.His unsusspecting boss nodded and said "Eric"?

      "Have you ever watched any of the old damage control tapes, sir? I'm talking about the onesmade in the mid 20th century."

      "No, I don't think so..."

      "There was one classic about an aircraft carrier. A fire was started on their flight deck due to acombination of nasty factors and the crew had to put it out. The film clearly shows the better firefighters moving across the deck putting out the fires with a very effective and state of the artflame retardant. Unfortunately, these pros were followed by crewmen who had been barelytrained years before; they were doing good to point the hose in the correct direction. The pros hadset up hoses connected to salt water pumps and they were 'fighting the fires' with salt water.Unfortunately, their salt waster was washing the effective fire retardant off the deck. The fuel,which floated on top of the salt water simply caught fire again. The ship survived mainly becausethe fuel supply burned itself out, probably. There was a massive failure of command organizationand folks simple lacked the skills to know how to fight the fires."

      There was a pause.

      "In many ways we're far better trained than these 'men of the sea' were 400 years ago. But thebiggest number of dead came from crewmen who were ordered to remain in their living quarters,which were a hugh room filled with racked bunks. They died of smoke inhalation because thereweren't any protective mashs or hoods available and no one had told them to run to rooms withclean air. Of course, this couldn't happen to a Star Fleet Ship, could it?"

      "Wasn't there an incident where a newly married man died when a phaser coolant pipe rupturedand he couldn't get to a protective mask or out of the compartment in time?"

      Eric was pleased his Master Chief had replied.

      "Correct, Master Chief, it happened on Montgomery Scott's ENTERPRISE about a centuryago."

      Everyone knew that technically it had been James T. Kirk's ENTERPRISE but these wereEngineers and to them, the Chief Engineer was somewhat more important that the Ship Driverwho commanded the non-Engineering spaces.

      "What if a torpedo got jammed? I remember reading that Dr. 'Bones' McCoy had to install somekind of medical sensor on a torpedo to allow it to track down and target a cloaked Klingonvessel. Could either of our Medical Doctors do this type of 'surgery'?"

      "What if one of the XO's Yeomen were down here harrassing one of us about a report and wewere engaged? Say, a sneak attack that isolated the bridge and damaged a nascell. That Yoemancould be the one ordered to sit at the phaser control panel and return fire based on orders from anEnsign in the secondary bridge. Could any of our Yeomen do this?"

      "If you consider 'Anna the Super Senior Chief' to be a Yeoman, then she probably could takecommand run the battle from engineering. I don't think so highly of the other Yeomen, especiallythe one who went through Enlisted training after getting a Harvard MBA."

      There was something to be said about cranky Senior Chiefs; they didn't hold back much. On theother hand, there were many times when they probably should have...

      "What about doing unusual drills. Sir? What about doing stuff like hold a 'phaser gone into selfdestruct mode' drill and have it happen to two navigation techs and one of our Yeoman? I don'tknow how a Security Marine type could have a phaser go wild but I suppose it could happen.Sir."

      There was also something to be said about Engineering Ensigns who were Assistant DivisionOfficers and who hadn't gotten fully into the official mind set of the ship.

      "That's exactly what I had in mind!"

      They discussed this for a bit longer and Dan Jackson said he'd take the proposal to the FirstOfficer. The meeting ended and Eric want back to a mixture of proof reading training requests,proof reading engineering logs and looking for booby traps in the Technician Third Classevaluations. which his Department Head would be pleased to read that afternoon. Two hours intothis "oh-so-wonderful" exercise, Eric was called to the Bridge.

     

      The next day, Eric was summonded to a meeting with the Second officer and the First Officer.The Second Officer looked upset and the First Officer looked like he had talked at...

      "Lieutenant Bellingham, are you trying to bust my chops?"

      "No, Lieutenant Anderson, I am not trying to bust your chops. I like your drills but I think weneed to increase the emergency supplies and to expand the training. All I'm saying is we need toget people used to dealing with the unusual emergencies; right now, you and the First havecreated a very fine system of emergency drills but I think we need to go beyond. OK?"

      "Eric," Laser Eyes commented, "just what are you saying?"

      "Sir, all I'm saying is we need to expand training. I'm not exactly sure what but our Marinescoujld train our people in self defense, we could cross train emergency plumbing etc. This issomething the students could help with."

     

      Eric sent a note around suggesting that eergency supplies be placed in various locations arouindthe ship. The officers and Chiefs started brainstorming about what could be planted around theboat. This lead to much discussin of what kind of supplies and where to put them and who wouldmaintain them and the discussion took up entirely too much time. Fortunately, there were otherthings to spend one's tim eon.

      Their beloved (well liked, actually) Second Officer was promoted to Lieutenant Commanderand various members of the crew decided to get him gifts.

      The swearing in was very nice and held in the ship's general meeting space. The cake wasdecorated with Scott Talbert's two and a half pips and the signatures of each person no theTAMERLANE. It was a nice job of decorating.

      The First Officer was master of Ceremonies.

      "We have some gifts for you, Scott, something suitable for a Fresh Caught LieutenantCommander. Cief Ryan, I believe you've got gifts from bridge crew?"

      The gift was a hand bound set of novels written in the early 21st century, these novels wereabout soldiers fighting in the 2nd Iraqi Civil War, faught in 2012 between the Kurds and CentralEuropeans living in Iraq. By that time the Second Bathest Party had taken the Iraqie Oil Fieldsand was dealing directly with the United States of America. The US of A, getting a good deal ongood oil, told the Good People of Iraq, Syria and Saudi Arabia to 'fight your own Allah DamnedWars yourself.' There were a shocking number of Muslims who found this very funny!

      LCDR Talbert liked making scale models of various ships. The best artists among Eric's peopleconstructed a three foot long scale model of the TAMERLANE; being only one of several fans ofmodel making, the Guest of Honor and his fellow devotees spent several weeks (evenings)working on the model ship. It was very nicely done.

      Engineering provided the final gifts.

      "Sir," Eric began, "we all know of yuor hobbies. So, perhaps you'll enjoy this!"

      ""Thank you, Eric," and LCDR Talbert opened the first gift. It was a custom made entranchingtool, commonly used in the early and mid 20th century by campaigning soldiers. It was also usedby campers.

      "You're quite welcome. We know you've camped out on, what, twenty five worlds..."

      "Thirty two actually."

      "Worlds and never liked the tools you brought with you. The blade is made from hull metal,with a mild steel covering and a stabalizer over that. The blade is fairly sharp but if you want, wecan put a better than razor sharp edge on it, sir.  The handle is made of century cured mahogany.A couple of my people hand carved the handle. How does it feel?"

      Talbert opended the blade out and swung it gently several times.

      "It feels very comfortable."

      "Good, good, Doc Emmily used erogonomic programmes to get a proper shape on the handle."

      "Actually, I simply did a slight modification of the traditional 19th century handle." DocEmmily was very pleased with herself.

      "There were several other gift, not least of which was the booze distilled in Engineering, flteredthrough active charcoal and aged for almost a week and a half. The ship was dropped to lowwarp and largely ran on automated systems while the guests got over the effects of the party.

      The various gifts, especially those from Engineering, helped heal the hurt feelings between Ericand Scott Talbert over damage control.

     

      In early 2364, Eric qualfied as both Junior Officer of the Deck and Officer of the Dec. In late2364, Eric was standing watch as Officer of the Deck when sensors picked up something strange.There was an object, that sensors couldn't pin down and couldn't quite analyuse, standing offTAMERLANE's port side. Eric was puzzled.

      "Helm, slow to warp two."

      The order was obeyed and sensors quickly noted the "ghost" had disappeared and thenreappeared in the same location. TAMERLANE was on course 090 mark 000 at warp 2. Hedecided to test the assumption that TAMERLANE was being paced.

      "Helm, change course to 180 mark 090."

      Eric decided to "fire up" a "secret" scanner whose existance was known only to the Captain andhim. The scan showed a cloaked object, likely a torpedo.

      "Helm! Raise shields! Weapons! Sound battle stations! Computer, Captain to the bridge. Helm,evasive manuever pattern Echo. Sensors, what the bloody Hell is that weapon's Mother Ship?"

      Sensors identified a Cardassian warship in the process of uncloaking when the unknownweapon appeared off TAMERLANE's port side and detonated. There was a splash of energy onthe screens and TAMERLANE rocked to it's starboard.

      The Captain was on the bridge.

      "Helm, get that bastard aft of us. Now. Weapons, target that Cardie and ripple fire torpedoes."

      "Sir, we have a casualty report and damage reports."

      "Later,  deal with it."

      "The Cardassian appeared to have survived the TAMERLANE's torpedos but seems dead inspace and the Captain ordered "prepare to stand down". Eric later stated he hadn't heard thisorder.

      "Helm, hard about, get that Targ turd off our bow. Weapons, are phrasers and disrupterscharged?

      The Captain knew when to not interupt and then the Cardassian abruptly got underweight again.The Cardassian fired two torpedoes, which TAMERLANE's point defense phasers easily killed.

      "Weapons, target enemy bridge, torpedo ports, phaser arrays and engineering and when ready,fire ASAP."

      The TAMERLANE's phasers took out the enemy bridge and most of it's torpedo ports and anexperimental tunnling photon torpedo took out the Cardie's warp reactor. The resulting explosionwas more enjoyable. Eric would later see the enemy warship exploded over and over in hisnightmares.

      Eric relaxed, breated a sigh of relief and then started upright.

      "What was that damage report?"

      "Sir, Captain, the weapon penetrated our shields and some kind of plasma weapon fired throughthe battle hull, through an empty room, through the a hatch into the deck three port corridore andlaid this open to space. Crewman Beatrice Collen was there and was sucked towards the hullbrach. Doc Emmily used a specialized programme to transport Beatrice to sick bay. She's beingtreated by Doc Emmily, Doc Turbo and two of the Emergency Medical Personnel. They say she'llbe fine."

      "Captain, endmy ship was destroyed. May I brief you in private?"

      "No. Everyone listen up! Lt Bellingham used an experimental sensor system to penetrate thecloaking on the Cardie torpedo. This scanning is hereby classified Secret and must not be talkedabout." (He knew those talking about the torpedo and it's scanning would be doing so veryquietly and without open discussion.) Eric, I have the con."

      "Thank you, sir. I need to get with my poeple about repairing the hole in the foot and half thickbattle armour of the primary (or battle) hull.

      Eric and the Chief Engineer suited up and entered the damaged section through a temporaryairlock. A strong force field covered the hole in the hull but the two offices and the five crewwho accompanied them weren't too trusting of force fields. They carefully examined analzyed thehold and used a transporter to remove a large section of damaged hull material around the hull.Then, the hull maintenance crew used a transporter to modify some of their emergency stock ofhuller material and this shaped hull mateiral was transported into the spot.

      Nothing could beat using a transporter beam carefully "sequence" the material around areplacement plug and it was well known as the stongest weld possible,

      A pressure check showed the repaired hull to be stronger than before. Everyone was pleased.

      Eric had just returned from medical, where he had checked on the recovering Beatrice Collen,who seemed to be in good spirits. She even consoled Eric:

      "I've heard you feel guilty about not paying attention to the damage report about me being hurt."

      "Well, yes." Actually, he didn't feel any guilt until right before going to sickbay.

      "Sir, you did the right things and saved the ship. I'm proud of you!"

      Eric didn't know how to answer this and his ackward, stuttered "thank you" was intepreted asbecoming modesty. Eric left, after promising to check in later that day.

     

      Then matters got worst. Eric had been worried about a "Court of Inquiry" and one was scheduled for that evening. He put on his best (his only!) Dress Uniform and arrived early. He wanted to have a lawyer but had been told by his Master Chief that "lawyers aren't Star Fleet and besides, Sir, the innocent don't need them!"

      Eric had once read that "the guilty need a lawyer, the innocent two and the naive and very innocent three lawyers". He told his Master Chief this and Master Chief Lynch had laughed loudly. It was most disconcerting...

      Whren the Captain, First Officer, Senior Chief "Anna", Chief Engineer Jackson entered and saw both LT Bellingham and Master Chierf Lynch<?> waiting in their Dress Uniforms, the Captain muttered "what the Hell"? "Anna" merely smiled.

      "Lieutenant Bellingham, we are now conveining this Formal Count of Inquiry."

      Bellingham braced himself to attention.

      "Mr. Bellingham, how would you rate your performance during the Cardassian attack this morning?"

      "Sir! I believe I acted appropriately to defend my ship, sir. We were attcked, sir and I held off attack when the Cardie vessel appeared 'dead in space', sir. Sir, I initiated my phaser attack when the enemy resumed his assualt and fired torpedoes. Sir~

      "LT Bellingham, did you authorize the firing of an experimental torpedo against the engine room of the Cardessian warship?"

      "Sir, I am responsible for everything that happened during the engagement, sir.""~Did you specifically ORDER a torpedo fired?"

      Eric would later realize his Captain seemed entirely too relaxed and the other senior personnel seemed too amused."~No, sir.""~Eric, since you had the bridge during the attack, you were responsible for the torpedo firing even if you didn't order it. Remember this young man: I was in command and therefore am responsible for everything that happened today. This includes Ensign Simon Drak firing a torpedo on her own initative. I've already put her in for an accomodation for displaying initiative and warned her to try waiting a little bit longer before firing without orders. Is that acceptable to you?"

      "Ah, yes, sir, it is..." Eric was clearely puzzled for this didn't seem like a Court to him!

      "Now, why are you and the Master Chief in Dress Uniform?"

      The Master Chief responded: "My Lieutenant was convinced this 'Board of Inquiry' would lead to a finding of his disobeying orders while the ship was in combat and that he would be facing a Courts Martial. Sir."

      Eric was not amused by the laughter.

      "Sorry, lad," Master Chief Lynch finally said, "I should have told you this was a per forma matter but I didn't realize you feared a court! I suppose you're too frazzled for some good news?""~I could use some good news right about now!"

      "Commander Jackson, has this officer ever sent crew 'into harm's way' knowing he could be sending them to their deaths?""~Yes, Captain, he has. Everytime he has to send someone in to do close in calibration on the anti-matter feed system, he risks their deaths should the containment fields spike outward."

      The containment fields were barely stable and barely under control as it was and every so often would expand outward just enough to kill anyone near them. The problem was that if the fields went out of specs (and they did occasionally) it would destroy the ship to leave them "out of specs" and dropping out of warp will cause an instant warp core breach. This was what the Star Fleet Design Bureau called "a known problem"...

      "Then, are we in agreement with what I must do today?"

      Now, Eric was really worried!

      "Eric Randall Bellingham, this Court of Inquiry finds you behaved in exemplary manner in defending the USS TAMERLANE from unjustified attack. We commend you on your professional performance!"

      Eric visibly relaxed.

      "You'll be receiving a special fitness report in several minutes. This is one I've been waiting to give you for some time now."

      Now, Eric was puzzled.

      "Finally, you're out of uniform?"

      Eric looked at his Master Chief.

      "Master Chief Lynch, you checked me over before we came in here and said I looked 'Captain's Inspection Ready'."

      "That was then, young man."

      "You're out of uniform because you have the wrong rank insignia, Lieutenant Commander Bellingham," spoke the Captain.

      "Sir, I've got my polished Lieutenant pips on.""~Ah, but you're no longer a Lieutenant, you're now a Lietenant Commander."

      "Eric's picture could have been put into a dictionary next to the word "dumfounded"!

      "We've been planning on your promotion for several months now but our time table has been shorted by about six weeks. I'll explain later. Now, it is time to congraduate you!"

      The Court of Inquiry personnel gathered around to congratuate Eric.

      They had a really nice party for him the next night and someone had talked about Eric's fear of being Court Martialed for a number of crewmen came up to him in the forthcoming weeks to say "don't worry, sir, we still love you". It was most disconcerting...

     

      The last week of 2365 as when everything changed.

      The TAMERLANE had spent Christmas and Hannacak at at a planet called "Bush League" because it was a rather raw planet that was noted for the vast assortment of large and violent animals. It was in the running for the next planet for "Great White Hunters" to visit, kill dangerous looking animals and engage in "Teddy Roosevelt" poses: they wold stand with one foot up on an animal they'd killed. The irony that most of the hunters would have been beaters or "native boys" centuries before (they were not "white") or that the dangerous animals were more dangerous for being intelligent and capable of hunting the hunters somehow didn't make the news. It didn't really matter.

      None of the TAMERLANE's crew hunted "dangerous animals"; they had been "hunted" by Cardassians and attacked in several "hit and run" attacks by unidentified aliens.

      The high light had been when Captain McMillian's granddaughter and her husband had arrived and displyed their child, the Captain's Great-granddaughter. The Granddaughter and her husband (both all of 19 years old!) and their child had been immediately adopted by the Good Ship and Crew. It was a very happy memory for all...

      The town they partied in was surrounded by an force field rated for Chiefs of State!

     

      TAMERLANE was enroute to their first visit to Risa when a message came in via the Fleet Supremem Command channel. Eric had been on the bridge standing in for the Junior Engineer of the Watch (who was at a flower arranging class, of all things!) when the Captain was ordered to take this call. The Captain went into his "At Sea Cabin" (Ready Room) and was in there for some time. He called in his First Officer (who was Officer of the Watch), told his Second Officer to "take the center seat" and after a short while, his puzzled looking Chief Engineer. When he went by, Commander Jackson just looked at Eric and shrugged. CLearely, Commander Daniel Jackson was in the dark about his summoning.

      Then, the First Officer came out and spoke:""LCDR Talbert, LCDR Bellingham, you've both done damage control work. We, ah, I have a thought experiment for both of you. Assume the ship is facing an implacable foe capable of adjusting to whatever defenses and offences we can come up with. Assume this foe could attack any time after about a year and what would you do to make the TAMERLANE battle ready. You have twenty minutes. Eric, one of your Junior Engineers of the Watch will relieve you; we wouldn't want to interupt your Engineer's recreational schooling. Scott, you've been saying Ensign Medley is ready to stand her first Officer of the Deck Watch; have her relieve you and then have Chief Thurson take the helm. Mary Jo Thurson will be able to supervise our Ensign by dropping 'gentle hints'."

      It was closer to 35 minutes before both LCDRs were called into the Captain's Ready Room.

      The Captain's Ready Room had the Captain's desk in front of the wall across from the entrance hatch, there were five easy chairs in the center of the room, a kitchen style work table across from the Captain's desk and a coffee mess set on it. The wall accross from the hatch was partally covered with crayon colored pictures made by Captain McMillian's grandchildren and hologrammes of McMillian's wife, children, grandchildren and a very small baby (his first great-grandchild). The Captain liked to groan "I'm too young to be a great-grandfather but he had spent a lot of time holding said great-grandchild a couple of weeks before. Now, the air felt much, much grimmer!

      Captain Robert McMillian, Commander Clark Grey, Commander Daniel Jackson, Senior Chief Anna Haskall and Master Chief Jain Lynch stood waiting. Both LCDRs marched in and immediately braced themselves to attention. They had never done this before in the Captain's Ready room but they had never seen the ship's Command Staff looking so grim."~LCDR Talbert, if you were to continue as Damage Control Assistant, what would you do different, if at all?"

      "Captain, I would continue with the current drills and form Marine squads from the Security personnel. We have some 60 'Marines', sir and while they are doing fine jobs in other duties, I suspect it's not their first love."

      "LCDR Bellingham?"

      "Sir, I would continue the same drills and have the Marines train other ship's company. I would also like to spread emergency suits around the ship. I would also put damage control gear in all rooms off the main passageways. I'd like everyone to have armoured vacume suits and to have everyone suited up during general quarters. If they can't be battle suited, then they can at least be in standard vacume suits."

      Several of the Command Staff nodded in agreement.

      "Finally, Sir, I would not be a 'Damage Control Assistant', I would be the 'Damage Control Asshole'!"

      Gentlemen, I've decided. Eric, you will be the 'Damage Control Asshole'; Scott, you will bring our Marines back up to their full abilities and schedule 'Repell Boarders' drills and hand to hand combat drills; emphasize improvized weapons and the ability to change tactics. Get everybody involved! There is one damn thing that neither of you can ever forget: we are now at war and we can not afford battling egos and battling agendas and other bullshit! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?""YES, SIR!"

      "Well, now that I've pinned your ears back," the Captain continued in a softer voice, "I thought it best to get that out of the way immediately. We really are at war and you'll see why we must work together like cells in a body or bees in a hive, Well, take seats. I'll stand. Senior Chief, you can take my chair."

      They took seats and waited while a flexible screen rolled down from the overhead. The Captain stood and began to speak:

      "The USS ENTERPRISE was conducting normal operations when a disaster visited them: the creature called 'Q' visited them. 'He' said he would be their tour guide to the universe. This 'Q' provoked Capt Piccard and CDR Riker into a rash statement or two and 'Q' said something like 'so you think you're ready for what awaits you out there? Let's see.' Then, 'Q' took ENTERPRISE and crew to meet destiny."

      The monitor screen had finished rolling down and Capt McMillian snapped his fingers. A strange object appeared on on the screen. The object expanded on the screen and was revealed as a huge cubical object; the scale markings showed the cube to be five kilometers on a side.

      "What is the threat of this space station, sir," the Second officer wanted to know. "That object is the size of a large space station and we've seen moons smaller than this?"

      "It doesn't look dangerous, does it? Doesn't it look like it's too big to have gone there under it's own power?" The Chief Engineer had a slight grin.

      "Yes, sir."

      "A little more detail then. ENTERPRISE was transported 2,700 light years to a location in the Beta Quadrient on the far side of the Romulan Star Empire. They found this object drifting in an unknown and uncharter star system. Piccard's old friend, Madame Guinnen, told him to leave and start back to Earth as quickly as possible. Piccard ignored her and began exploring. As far as he could tell, the cube was ignoring him until he drew it's attention by sending first contact message. The cube then proved it was more than a drifting space station.

      The screen showed the cube abruptly stop and head directly towards the ENTERPRISE at high impulse.

      "This cube is a very versitle space craft. Piccard fled. A creature beamed into ENTERPRISE's engineering space, began scanning and somehow was able to interface with the ENTERPRISE's main computer. Piccard ordered his Security Chief to kill the invader. Another invaded appeared and finished downloading the ENTERPRISE's database. The intruder had somehow adapted to the attack modes and was able to leave easily. The cube attacked ENTERPRISE and Piccard responded with torpedoes and phasers. This seemed to stop the enemy. Piccard send an away team to the enemy vessel and found it was a living machine, filled with cyborgs."

      He paused for questions.

      "The cyborgs were human machines hybrids that interfaced with the computer controlling their vessel. Guinnen revealed this creatures, called 'The Borg', had been working on a system of linking living humanoid minds to each other via computers for 'thousand of centuries'. No one knows who the origional species was that created this hybrid and no one knows where they came from. Most think from the Delta Quadrant of this galazy and some alien species think they came from the Lesser Magellanic Cloud or perhaps started in the Delta Quadrant, went to the Lesser Cloud and came back to the Delta Quadrant, The important thing to remember is this: the exist to assimilate intelligent life forms into a collective hive mind. They assimililate alien technology. Some think these Borg don't invent tech, they just steal and use alien's technology. This is both arrogant and dangerous; there is proof that elements of the Borg overmind can invent new tech and tactics. They can adopt and that implies imagination and some ofthe older aliens say the Borg have great imagination, horribley great immaginations."

      The room was stunned.

      "What do they want? Well, let's listen to what they told ENTERPRISE:"

      "We are the Borg. We have analyzed your offensive and defensive capabilities and you are no match for us. Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded. Your existance as you have known it has ended; you will be assimiliated. We will add your biological and technological distinctiness to our own."

      "The Borg have assimiliated numberous species and realigned their minds to serve the needs of the group. Who sets their goals or are they as mindless as a cancer taking over a body? Are they mindless destroyers like insects taking destoying everything they come across? Various sources, some reports tens of thousands of years old and found in records in ruins on alien worlds suggest the Borg are extensions of a single alien. These stories came from ancient ruins but the ruins were set up for the future and had very precise instruction in how to translate their languages. This is high classified because the ruins say the only defense against the Borg is to flee beyong their reach, There are stories of whole species who left this galaxy and who are still working their way from isolated star to star across the intergalactic voil in hopes of finding sanctuary far away from this galaxy." The Captain sighed. "It makes for great myths and great bed time scare stories but these monsters are real."

      "The ENTERPISE away party surveyed the enemy ship, returned to their ship and fled. The Enemy vessel pursued at high warp and fired some sort of energy leeching weapon that first removed all power from ENTERPRISE's shields and then leeched out their warp drive power. Commander LeForge can't explain this; he says it violated all physics and engineering he'd been taught. Various study groups have been initiated since the ENTERPRISE returned. They will be sharing any ideas they come up with and any wild ass hair brained ideas we can come up with will be most welcome!"

      "Hair brained ideas, sir," Eric questioned.

      "Yes, indeed, because the idea of a torpedo like weaopon that could 'leech' shield and warp power is a 'wild ass idea'!"

      The First Officer took up the briefing:

      "Engineering and physics are the only 'wild ass ideas' now on the table! The Federation sent ambassadores to an emergency meeting of the political and military elites of the Klingon Empire, the Romulan Empire, the Gorn Hedgemony, the Torlians and several other species including the Cardessians. The Breeen were invited but declined to attend. They later said the Cardfassians had briefed them on the problem and had said the Breen were not in danger from the Borg. When images were shown of the drones in the cube ship, the Breen abrupty joined this collition. It seems that several Breen, apparently livng quite well outside their refrigerator suits in the heat of the cube ship, were seen by the Breen. There were details of the Breen physiology that the Federation hasn't discovered yet. Section 31 has since located several Breens and brought back autospy reports."

      "Were the Breen dead when the autosopies were done?"

      "Apparently not, Senior Chief, apparently not."

      "This group is going to work on unified defenses. The Federation and the Klingon Empire are working on a new type of battleship with grossly improved warp and impulse engines and a warp corp that coulg power the ENTERPRISE; the Romulans are kicking in their finest, cutting edge, cloaking technology. The Breen are contributing tactics that should greately improve our survival chances and the Trolians are going to provide material science, hull materials that will be a real surprise to the Borg and which will make the new battleships much harder to kill. I've also got a surprise." Chief Engineer Jackson was smilling but it wasn't a happy smile.

      "Commander Jackson will be promoted to Captain and assigned to head the Engineering efforts. Master Chief Lynch will stay behing to supervise and to aid his new Chief Engineer: Eric Randall Bellingham."

      Captain McMillian grinned at Eric's expression; Eric had expected to be MPA for several more years and then feared he would be transferred to another ship. He feared this because the personnel on the TAMERLANE had become his family. He now only knew their names, he knew the names of their spouces, girl friends, boy friends, families and even most of their dogs, cats and targs. (Yes, TAMMERLANE hosted Klingons several times.) He had  seen their inner demons and they his; this familiarity had not lead to contempt but to deeper friendship. It was strange but true and happened to many others in those years. He wasn't ready to leave them. (Most of them weren't ready for him to leave.)

      The First Officer decided to get matters back on track.

      "These changes won't happen for several weeks anyway. Daniel, you'll have plenty of time to passdown the Department to young Eric; you've been Chief Engineer for, what, 15 years? Just don't forget to pass down the keys and don't steal the nice flatware." The Chief Engineer was amusedf and outraged. "You shouldn't have too many problems Eric, the inventory tracking system indicates that everything is accouonted for. I had an inventory of all ship's systems, equipment and equipage yesterday and today. The change in DCA responsibility won't happen to late January or perhaps early February. Eric, if you're going to be a success in your `Damage Control Asshole` work, you'll need to get with everyone and get their ideas. You can start with the Department Heads and they can ask their Division Officers and you can get the full input of officers and crew. Scott, you'll have to work up refresher training for the 'Marines' and invader repulsion drills for the entire crew. You can get with Fleet Headquarters aboutthat. ALso, your First Lieutenant duties will increase and you'll have to do more damage control work with Eric and work on physically moving material to and from the ship. This will involve crains and single person tugs. You will have a lot of work cut out for you. However, the Borg invasion, should it even happen, is years away. We will still go to Risa, hopefully still have fine times and we can begin going to a war footing afterwards. Captain, should we plan on doing so in late January [2366]?"

      "That will be fine," Captain McMillian agreed.

      They spent a couple of weeks on Risa and while Emmily and Eric spent a lot of time together and cemented their reputation as being a "couple", they didn't carry matters beyond holding hands. As Eric's sister would later say "those two are soooooo sloooooow!"

      The first several months after leaving Risa were filled with drills and Marine training. Studying sensor reports from remote stations and probes became an obsecession for several months and that finally abated. The high water marks of Eric's "enhanced training" included:

      One of the Operations Department sensor techs was walking down a corridor when a pipe "ruptured" in the overhead and began leeking water (simulating a heat transfer liquid). This young Petty Officer grabbed two other crewmen when the hatches at either end of the corridore clsed and sealed them off. The three tore the panels off the overhiead ("ceiling"), shut off the proper valves and used Eric's patch "blanet" to cover the "hole" in the pipe. Then, the drill was over but the water was still on the deck and the panels needed to be cleaned and replaced.

      The Petty Officer was ordered to dry off the panels, remove the "blanket" and clean up the mess.

      This Pwetty Officer replied that the real fluid would have given off gases that would have damaged their lungs. So, the three would have to go to Medical for treatement. As for cleaning up the mess? That was a job for specialists, which she and her two helpers were not and it would be the First Lieutenant or the Damage Control Asshole's responsibility to do so.

      She marched off to medical; the ship's officers and senior enlisted laughed themselved sick almost.

     

      The fire alarm went off seconds before a fire control team burst into his "stateroom". Eric had fumbled out of bed, wearing just a t-shirt and looked around for the fire. The team that came through his door did a careful survey, made remarks like "oh, no, I'm seeing something that only Emmily should see" and when he went to his head to hide out, started remarks about his "tight ass".

      Eric wore Academy grade nightware for over a month but a surprise fire "drill" was never held in his living quarters again...

      Perhaps the most dangerous drill was when the Captain took TAMERLANE to a research station and took most of the senior personnel with him on a visit. Then, Captain McMillian sent orders to the Ensign (who was Junior Officer of the Deck), who took TAMERLANE out to deep space, took the ship into warp and went to a location Capt. McMillian's orders specified. Capt. McMillian had expected this officer to demand clarification of orders or send down an away team (to rescue the "hostages") and hadn't expected the Ensign to "take the ship to rendezvous with a Fleet Cruiser".

      The Ensign had a commidation for successfully getting TAMERLANE underweigh without the presence of senior officers or sernior enlisted. Capt McMillain decided not to try such drills again. There had not been a "Fleet Cruiser" at the rendezvous point and McMillian had been forced to "borrow" a runabout and go retrieve his ship...

     

      While the pace of drils dropped off, the drills chosen became more focused and far better. After a year, TAMERLANE started workups in squadron and fleet activities. TAMERLANE had been a solitary player, whose military origions had been downplayed for years. In mid year 2366, TAMERLANE was relased from training duties and resumed her exploration duties. They spent several months exploring solitary planets in deep space, Eric resumed his PhD studies on exotic particles and actually gained a student. It felt strange to have his very own PhD candidate...

      As time passed and people began to think they were safe, the pace of drills began tio drop off and even the TAMERLAND was ordered to resume their scientific research. After all, the weaopns sensors easily could be used for scientific purposes and Eric's first PhD candidate was able to collect much data for her research and was well on the way to an interesting thesis when  desparate emergency messages came in from several remote stations and an emergency confirmation message came from the ENTERPRISE. A single Borg cube ship was spotted by remote stations [which apparently were destoyed] and ENTERPRISE went to confront the foe. The TAMERLANE had been enroute from Sirius to Earth and were ordered to Wolf 359. The ship joined a group of Star Fleets finest combat vessels [save for the ENTERPRISE] and a growing number of Klingon Warships. Fleet Admiral J.P. Hanson organized the ships in a movable ambush line. Some of the ships were in mutually supporting battle groups and were intended to as flyiing squads.The FADM [Fleet Admiral] spoke with great hope and confidence. Privately, he told the Klingon General who commanded the Klingon vessels that if ENTERPRISE couldn't find a weakness in the enemy vessel or somehow get them to leave, he didn't have much hope. Both senior officers were convinced they would die went the Borg arrived; they only hoped they would die well, die well after destroying or at least seriously damaging the Borg vessel. The attack has come too soon and the various defensive initatives were no werer near completion.

      Agents in a deep cover Federation Agency [some times called 'Section 31'] reported that a Borg vessel had fought a battle in Earth Orbit and had been destroyed. The Time Police had surpressed any furthern information.

      "There is much more to the story, Admiral but that is all I know."When it came, the attack was overhelming. The Borg vessel rammed into the Wolf 359 system dispatching death in all directions.

      TAMERLANE was at full battle stations, Captain McMillain, First Officer Clark Gray, Second Officer Scott Talbert and the best bridge personnel were on duty. Eric and his most experienced junior officers and Chiefs were tripple; manning all stations; the damage control teams [the rest of the crew] were in various corridores and spaces. They had removed all panels that hid pipes, critical valves, important equipment, ODN junctures and enterances to Jeffries Tubes. Eric sat behind his command panel, a wide table covered with monitors, data entry keyboards, voice entry terminals and access to all systems on the ship. One of the most important monitors showed the comunications links throughout the ship.

      As part of a five ship element, TAMMERLANE swept towards the enemy shiop and fired a full spread of torpedes. Each of the ships fired weaopns with different charactgeristics; there were explosions against the side of the cube and som emay have actually damanged the enemy ship. Unfortunately, subsequent torpedoes with the same settings were futiles. Three of the ships swept in from a different attack vector and all were attacked; TAMERLANE survived but Eric's monitors clearly indicated total loss of communicationswith the bridge and loss of atmospheric containment [fortunately, everyone on the ship was suited up, most in battle armour and the rest in standard Fleet Emergency vacume suits [supply had been very reluctgant to give Captain McMillian all that he asked for]. The last thing Eric heard was "FIRE TOR..." and all communications were lost with the Bridge.

      Eric's sensors showed some kind of incoming weapon. The point defense phasor operators took out two of the weapons but the third was untouched.

      Eric keyed the all stations button and bellowed; "STAND BY FOR WARP JUMP\"

      Seconds later, Eric thumped prepared keys and the TAMERLANE lurched into warp. That deep in the gravity well of Wolf 359 should have damaged TAMERLANE but Eric had prepared his ship well and when the ship dropped out of warp, the Borg shp was a light second away. TAMERLANE's stern faced the enemy vessel and Eric ripple fired all 14 of the aft torpedos. It was probably an act of futility and TAMERLANE's last act of defiance but was necessary. With the bridge cut off, Eric was in command. He didn't like it.

      An intruder alarm had gone off just before Eric had sent TAMERLANE lurching into it's warp jump.

      a Borg drone appeared near the Second Offier's "stateroom" and then entered, waving it's prothesis arm.

      one of the damage control crew followed, grabbed Talbert's loaded .357 Magnum and fired a round through the Borg's chest. A second crewman came around behind the drone, took Talbert's trenching tool and nearly decapitated the drone at the same time a third crewman drew her enhanced K-bar and plunged it through a critical node in the Borg drone's chest. The creature dropped dead and beamed out before it hit the deck.

     

      On a different corridor, a Borg stabbed one of Eric's Vulcans and the assimilation was begun. The Borg probably never expected a TAMERLANE crewwoman to fire a phaser into an overhead pipe that released a highly toxic fluid which was used in cooling several ancillary systems and which had the capability of disolving organic tissue. The Borg drone disolved and the Borg ship flashed into warp. The assaluted Vulcan suit was self sealing and protected him.

      One of Eric's transporter officers activated very high powered, very broad band subspace jammers that disconnected the Vulcan drone from the Collective. A crewman carried the Vulcan to medical where the complete medical staff worked to remove the Borg implants.  They were successful, one of the few successful such surgerys.

      Probably the worst event of his life was when Eric had to watch the bridge recordings.

      The Captain was in his set when TAMERLANE attacked the Borg. The Second Officer was at the Helm and the First Officer was handling targeting duties. The Captain abruptly left his chair and the Second Officer ran towards him. No one ever figured why Captain McMillian ran towards the aft door to the door. The Second Officer later said he'd felt the strangest urge to join his Commander. The First Officer tgook the command chair and ordered more details of the assualt. Then, a strange weapon was used. No one ever figured out what the weaopn was or even if it was a Borg Weapon.

      Eric's sensors later showed an object that may hve been energy or may have been something combined with energy. This something struck the outer hull of the ship. The bridge was surrounded by a meter and a half shell of a material called "unobtainium" that had a melting point of 11,400K and regarded as one of the strongest substances known. Part of the bulkhead, a ribbon of unobtainium a meter long and .01 millimeters thick, was spit off the bulkhead, went across through the air and decapitated Captain Mc----, hit the bulkhead behind the Captain and richoshayed downward, cutting the Captain's legs just above the knees. The end closest to the ship's bow sliced through the Second Officer's leg and nearly sliced LCDR Talbert's left leg off.

      The sight of his Captain's pointless death stated Eric Randall Bellingham's descent into nightmare...

     

      An hour after the Borg cube left the system, Eric's communications engineers were able to restore power to the bridge and eric spoke to the new Captain, forner First Officer Clark Gray and advised him on the status of the ship and what casualities he knew of. Eric said he had started retrieving the wounded from other ships or sections of ships or worst of all, floating in space in fragile suits. Captain Gray nodded in a distracted manner and said "carry on".

      Eric continued to command the ship from his station in engineering. Before, he had never double checked his work and had absolute faith in himself. Now, he wasn't quite so sure.

      Four hours after the battle officially ended, FADM J.P. Hanson contacted Captain Clark.

      "How well are you handling the death of Captain McMillian..."

      "Very badly, sir, I find it nearly impossible to be here knowing...knowing my friend...Robert...is simnply not here...seeing his blood on the deck."

      "Could you handle command of another ship, Clark, a Klingon ship..."

      "I believe I could, Admiral."

      The Klingon seemed very much less than impressed by the notion of a human Commander. When Captain Gray announced he was in command [the former Commander had been killed by a drone attack], one Klingon officer voiced his defiance.

      Clark Gray backhanced this officer hard enough to drop the Klingon to the deck.

      The Klingon staggered to his feet, wiped lavender blood off his mouth and nodded in approval.

      "Your heart is Klingon, Commander and I will serve you willingly. If anyone disputes your right to command, they will answer to me..."

      Thus, Clark Gray met his first officer. Later, a picture would be taken of Commander Clark Gray, in full Klingon uniform and surrounded by his officers. An outsider, a member of the High Counsol, studied the picture and said "why do you have a human in command..."

      High Chanchellor Martock of the House of Martoc replied; "Everyone on that ship is Klingon."

      "And the Commander..."

      "Perhaps the most Klingon of them all..."

     

      For the next 37 hours, Eric guided his ship around the debry field retrieving the living and the dead. Finally, he decided he needed to do some first hand rescue. This was a decison he would later bitterly regret. The FADM gave Eric command over the Saecond Officer, who was in medical awaiting repairs and eventually a rescued Medical Officer from a Vulcan ship did very rapid work on Talbert and said he could return to duty. Eric took a team into the ruins of a battle ship. This ship had beamed the families from a Klingon ship that had been enroute to the Klingon Embassy on Earth. The compartment was very badly lighted. Several adults were alive and they were transported to TAMMERLAND. Eric investiaged a weak life sign, thinking it might be a house pet, such as a cat or dog. When one of his "strong armed girls" lifted the final object from the "house pet", he was horrified to find a child... True, it was a Klingon child but at that point, a child was a child and precious beyong belief.

      Eric had seen the casualty figures and knew how very, very few had survived.

      The child was alive and Eric ordered said baby and him to be transported directly to TAMERLANE's sick bay. Desparately, he placed the baby on an examining table and Dr. Emmily and a Vulcan healer ran over to examine the child.

      The child had not survived the transporter. Eric screamed in pain and fell back onto the deck. No one could bear to see his agony; his face looked too much like what the medical personnel had seen in sickbay's mirrors.

      A long time later, it could have been minutes, it could have been hours, Eric staggered to his feet and rejoined his team in surveying ruined ships for survivors, surveying the remnants of ships and generally bringing back the living and, against orders, the dead.

     

      One of the most memorable events and one that Eric would remember forever, happened somewhat late in the nightmare.

     

      ~The battle with the Borg had ended the day before. Now, the battle with the consequences wasbeing fought and lost.

      Eric was still getting used to being called "Captain Bellingham" or "Captain" and didn't like it.His people had gotten the bodies together and would transfere them along with the most seriouslywounded back to Earth. A fast attack vessel would arrivein five hours to provide transport backto Earth; the speed required would probably destroy the ship's warp engines but they would lastlong enough to make it back to Earth.

      Senior Chief Anna Haskall came on the Bridge.

      "I've finished inventoring HIS belongings, Captain."

      "Call me Eric, he is the Captain."

      "As you wish...Eric. I've finished inventoring and boxing HIS stuff."

      "I want you to escort HIM back to Earth, Senior Chief Haskall. His family, your family needyou and you need them, Anna."

      "Thank you, Eric." This time she sounded like she meant the "Eric".

      "I'll have Crewman Debra Sillings help you pack."

      He looked at Crewman Sillings. "Escort her and protect our Anna. That is your most importantduty, Debra."

      The crewman walked out with their late Captain's alter ego.

     

      "Four and a half hours later, Eric walked to the docking port and watched his crewman escorthis Senior Chief aboard the rescue vessel. It didn't look like the Crewman would be coming backand Captain Bellingham didn't mind.

      "Computer, add the name of Crewman Debra Sillings to the list of walking wounded sent backto Earth."

      Eric stepped aboard the rescue vessel and went to the lounge area where his people were beingkept. He looked directly at Sillings.

      "Are these the people you want taken back to Earth?"

      "Yes. Have you stowed our dead?"

      "Yes, Captain, we have. We can be underweigh in two minutes."

      "You should have the updated list of my wounded and dead. Please see to it that all my peoplemake it to Star Fleet Medical." He looked directly at Crewman Debra Sillings as he spoke.

      Eric then left the rescue boat. Their crew was dogging their ship's outer hatch before Eric hadleft the air lock. As soon as his crew shut the airlock behind him, the other ship did an emergencybreak away and departed. He knew that Sillings needed to escort Senior Chief Haskall as muchas his Senior Chief needed escorting and that it would be a long 3 days and 8 hours back to Earth.The decisin felt incredibly right.

     

      The data kept coming in and Eric kept moving the TAMERLANE around the debree fields. Ofthe hundes of sensor contacts that suggested living beings, only a few dozen were actually alive.After the child, Eric found he couldn't bear to look at what was rescued. He was actually pleasedto get a call from Fleet Admiral J.P. Hansen.

      "Captain, what is your status?"

      "We're still space worthy, still have inpulse drive and it looks like we may have warp drive andI've gotten my walking wounded, wounded and dead off. How is your status, sir?"

      "Bad, Captain Bellingham, very bad. Right now, yours is the only fully functioning starship inthis sector. How are your people holding up?"

      "Admiral, we're all walking wounded. Speaking of which, I just sent two of my peple back toEarth, who were in that category. Senior Chief Anna Haskall was our Captain's alter ego and sheneeds to take him home. Crewmman Debra Sillings couldn't save friends she thinks she couldhave saved. So, I sent her home with Anna; she can at least save our Anna from her grief, Ihope."

      "Eric, you'd probably get some shit for doing that if I hadn't ordered you to have this Debraescort Anna."

      "Ordered Sir?" Eric was tired and didn't get the Admiral's meaning.

      "Let the record show that I ordered Debra Sillings to escort Anna Hastings back home; if realitydoesn't include this order, then it should have!"

      "Thank you, Sir. Will that be all?"

      "Yes. We'll talk later."

      The Fleet Admiral walked off; and left the link open. Eric heard: "I'll take that call from theFederation President first and tell Salvage Command I'll take their call as soon as I've talked withthe the President. Tell them both I had a very high priority call to make."

      The link remained open until Eric ordered it closed. It was nice to think that Fleet Admiral J.P.Hanson though so highly of him...

     

      Eric retained command of TAMERLANE for four months and made no further rescues; he and his crews [augmented by personnel from the Star Fleet, Klingon and even Romulan fleets] continued making body retrievals. During this time, Eric began using drugs to give him energy, to let him sleep and [he thought] to let him forget.

      Emmily was walking down the corridore to her quarters when an alarm went off. An officer had flatlined. She immediately ran to the room her sensors had given her, her mind refusing to tell her who the occupant was. She saw a crewman behind her and yelled "JOIN ME NOW". The crewman ran towards the ship's Senior Medical Officer without questioning the order.

      The door was jammed and Dr. Emmily LaFere's medical pass code didn't open the door. The crewman ordered her to back up and blasted the locking mechanism with his phaser set on full; the lock disinterated and the door could be opened. Emmily nodded her thanks,

      Eric was flat on his back and flatlined. He was dead. Emmily gave him an iinjection knowing this was futile if his heart wasn't beating; it wasn't. She immediately began chest compressions and the crewman prooved he'd paid attention to the emergency classes; he bagan mouth to mouth. Eric began coughing and Emmily ordered "bring him with me to sick bay."

      The crewman plopped Eric on the first medical bed and Emmily did a quick analysis; she then redid her analysis and called for her Vulcan junior MD and together they pieced together what Eric had consummed. Eric had consummed drugs to bring him up, take him down, put him to sleep and if it had been an engineering matter, he would have never allowed crewmen to put together such a mixture,  It took several hours but the two MDs and the paramedic trained crewman were able to analyze what Eric had taken and countered the various drugs. Then, Emmily looked at her two assistants.

      "Have either of you slept in the past 8 hours...'

      The crewman had slept 7 hours before seeing her, the Vulcan 4 hours [she normally slept 3 hours a day] and she had gotten 6 hours. She contacted the bridge and said she was taking Command and gave the Bridge Officer [who had been an Ensign Junior Officer of the Deck 6 weeks before, before the Borg attack and who was now an Officer of the Deck Lieutenant Junior Grade] orders for TAMMERLANE to stop her impulse drive and to order all officers and crew to report to their quarters and to get at least 8 hours of sleep. This LTjg was delighted to obey.

      Emmily took the center seat, the crewman took the bridge engineering officer's position [for he was a general engineer] and the Vulcan began monitoring life signs from Medical.

      This is the CMO [Chief Medical Officer]. I have taken command and hereby order everyone in their quarters to prepare to sleep. You have 5 minutes to make last minute hed calls and to prepare; in 5 minutes, I will gas the ship with a mild sedative. I had better not find anyone away from their beds and no one had better try resisting. I expect everyone to sleep."

      Three hours later, the Commodore called and asked "Why are you drifting in space... Where is Captain Bellingham..."

      "Sir. Captain Bellingham and all but two of our crew were exhausted, unable to sleep well if they could sleep at all and were taking drugs to either knock themselves out or to keep themselves awake. I relieved Eric of Command, ordered everyone to bed and will let them awaken in perhaps 5 hours. Sir."

      "Very well, Lieutenant LaFere, I approve of your reasons for taking command." There was a pause. "Do you know the 'great secret' that officers are expected to know before they can assume command..."

      "Do you mean that business of being willing to sacriface officers or members of the crew if necessary to save the Ship, Captain and Crew... Yes, sir, I do."

      "Havd you ever sent anyone to die.."

      "I sent people into wrecked ships knowing they could be killed yet I did it to save lives; I sent people into dangerous spaces on TAMERLANE knowing they could die. So, yes, sir..."

      "Then, Lieutenant Commander LeFere, I find you fully justified in your actions."

      "Commodore, I'm a Lieutant, Sir."

      You were a Lieutenant before taking command of TAMMERALNE.  Give your shipmates extra sleeping time; they need it."

     

      A month later, Eric was standing bridge watch when he realized he needed to get some sleep. He followed the strange habit he'd gotten into and brought up every sensor the ship possessed and displayed the results on the main viewer. There was no evidence of a Borg cube. Then, he began staring at the screen. It wasn't until one of his sensor techs - an Enlisted analyst - began active monitoring of all systems and stood at relaxed parade rest clearly ready to spend hours monitoring sensors, that Eric allowed one of his Engineering Senior Chiefs to gently remove him from the bridge and take him to his quarters. Sometimes, the Senior Chief would have a drink with Eric; he or she also was haunted by their dead and the ghosts of the "Battle" of Wolf 359. [That is, if a defeat of such magnitude could properly be called a "battle".]

      They too were too hurt to really see the wierdness of the once highly decisive Captain Bellingham unable to leave his sensor reports for fear those reports would change abruptly. Eric Bellingham wasn't a coward but he was very afraid of the living death of becoming a Borg Drone. Even the survivors of the assualt lead by Loquitus of Borg had great sympathy for Jean-Luc Piccard.

      The Medical Staff had no choice but to report how their Captain had overdosed on various drugs and how a number of other crew members had come nearly as close; there were also three suicides. These three had expressed their fears of the Borg and their feelings of guilt but the persons who could have saved them simply weren't able to be there; they were treating far too many others. These three were granted the status of "Casualties, Combat Killed" and were listed as "Walking Wounded" who had succumed to their wounds. No one could argue with that and the three were given the same Church burials as the other dead on or found by the TAMERLANE's crew.

      Finally, Command decided they needed specialized treatment for the TAMERLANE's personnel and the ship was sent back to Earth. There had been successfull implantations of Borg tech in the warp drive that had been discovered after the battle. It seemed that Eric's "warp jump" that occurred at a critical moment and the Borg tech had "died" before "coming to life". TAMERLANE was taken to a deep space station on the Moon Gabrielle, which orbited the Earth solar system planet Xena. There, the Borg tech was studied for centuries and confirmed statements of VOYAGER's personnel. If anything userful came from these studies, that information was carefully hidden.

      There was a big reunion for the survivors. Eric's entire extended family was there to greet him and Emmily; Emmily's family had been brought to Earth on a fast courier vessel [you can really cover space quickly at warp 9.9] and greeted her. The two families got along well.

      Quartermaster 2nd class Debra Sillings had moved into a four bedroom house with Senior Chief Anna Haskall and both were meeically retired. They had a lot of healing to do; the nearby presence of their families helped. Although both women recovered considerably, neither returned to active duty.

      Eric attended therapy sessions faithfully and could parrot back what he was told. His therapists thougth they were not reaching him and that was a parital truth; they were reaching him but he was turning their helpfull remarks into self recriminations and this made life much harder for him. If he'd only been able to discuss the one image that haunted him, he might have been spared much pain. He would also have missed meeting some very interesting people.

      Eric was in class one day when;

      "Did you know that behaviour modifying drugs have been around since early humans arose on this planet/int/ Many, many species have evolved brain pleasure centres as well as pain centres. Now, there are good reasons for the pain centres but why the pleasure centres?"

      Eric replied, "Perhaps to dull the pain of existance or to give hope."

      "How would pleasure give hope?"

      "Pleasure would give home and that could give these creatures the strength to continue."

      "True but there is the 'pleasure trap', the fact that initial pleasure can lead to greater needs for the pleasure substance and eventual failing of the subdstance. Can I get someone else to respond to Eric's rather interesting comments?"

      There was more discussion and Eric rather tuned them out until the instructor began to talk about specific drugs.

      "We all know about alcohol but do many of you know of the other traditional mind altering drugs? There was 'pot', which was smoked or steeped into tea or cooked in choclate deserts. [Eric had tried smoking 'pot' and had just coughed a lot.] There was 'cocaine' but it was highly addictive and a stimiulant. [Eric mistakenly thought it must be like the Klingon 'coffee' he had drunk on TAMERLANE and decided why bother with 'cocaine'?] Then, the instructor spoke of 'heron' and said it was a member of the opiate family of plant drugs. Eric decided to ask a question.

      "You've talked about plant drugs that do various things to people. Why are they effective?"

      "A very good question! Our brains create extremely powerful pain killers that have much the same chemical structure as these plant substances. These plant chemicals can affect brains the same way pain killers created in the brain does. Of all these drugs, opiates are the most effective."

      The conversation quickly went to other subjects before anyone thought to ask questions about addicition or withdrawal. Eric left with the idea of a plant pain killer.

      Eric's fear of the Borg had lead to Star Fleet putting high grade data processing equipment in his quarters and giving him a Starship Captain's access. This access covered classified sensor reports from distanct star systems, classified information about "antique" drugs, old histories and many other items. Eric looked up 'heroin'.

      The encyclopedia said 'herion' was produced from poppy plants and had been grown in Afganistan for many centuries. Eric looked up contact numbers for the Afganistan Ministry of History. He got nine numbers.

      It was just past 6 am in Bush City. The Curator of the War Century Muesum had just gotten back from first prayers.

      "God be with you,"

      "And with you," Eric replied.

      "What may I do for you, Mr. Bellingham?" Eric's communications consol had sent his name to the Curator.

      "I am doing research on ancient drugs," Eric began, "and I am curious about opiates and poppies. From what I've read, Afganistan is the best place to obtain such plant samples."

      "That is true. I do have to wonder why you are calling me instead of simply reading from an encyclopedia?.

      "I've found that talking with experts is usually superior to reading from books or watching recordings of experts. How were poppys grown and harvested?"

      "The growing season was simple enough but the processing was difficult." The Curator then described the ancient processing routines for creating opates. It had been so long since humans had used opates for recreation that the Curator never thought to wonder why Eric was interested.

      "So it sounds like a very hard thing to process" and thought of his next choice on the list, hashish brownies.

      "No one processes it any more, it has been created via replicator for years and is available in injectable form. Many have used it in hospice but it hasn't been used in desparation for generations."

      The conversation ended soon after.

      Eric then looked into the availability of heroin and found it was located in deep storage as an obsolute medication. He noted that "heroin" was available in packettes which also included anti-dotes and blocking agents to initiate extremely quick withdrawal.

      Eric should have noted that last and decided this "heroin" was too damn dangerous and gone onto his hashish laden deserts. He had survived the Borg and thought he could outfight anything. He was wrong...

     

      Eric went out to dinner with his family that night, it being a Wednesday.

     

      His weekend started with a nice 5 "click" run and after cleaning up, he used his Star Fleet comptuter link to download a small amount of heroin into a standard injector. He remembered that "heroin" came from the German for "heroic" and injected the substnce into his neck. Several minutes later, he felt grate euporia.

      It was wonderful!

      It was the first time he'd felt good since before the Borg attack.

      He went to lunch with Emmily.

      "You seem more cheerful", she said.

      "Yes, I do!"

      "Eric, I'm happy you're happy."

      Several minutes later, she noticed that Eric seemed a lot less happy.

      "Eric, you didn't do anything dangerous, did you?"

      "No, of course not."

      about five hours after his first injection, he excused himself, used his Fleet accesses to use a Fleet transporter to his quarters, made a second injection and returned to the party, all perky again.

      Emmily didn't let herself think of what could have caused this and so their day ended nicely, with him kissing her before they went to their separate quarters.

      He woke up late that night with alternating feelings of depression and anxiety and a pee hardon so stiff he couldn't urinate at first; he thought it a shame he didn't have a lover to use this on. Somehow, he didn't think of Emmily as being a lover.

      The effects wore off before he thought of taking the anti-dote.

     

      The next week, Eric decided to find the "good stuff". He wasn't getting the effects the old books talked about and there was no one to use this substance with. The idea of using a hypodermic syringe was disguesting and the idea of "sharing needles" just turned his stomach. He had enough trouble sharing a bottle of beer let along getting someone else's blood mixed in with his own. His medical classes had emphasised the danger of mixing blood types.

      The following Monday, after therapy was over for the day, Eric went looking for the good stuff.

      He decided to dress properly for something shady. He put on a nice, conservative tunic and shaved the pointy sideburns he'd worn for years. Then, from habit, he put on his working trousers, his work boots and put his comms badge in a hidden pocket of the trousers.

      At the third bar he entered, he ordered a beer and spoke to the bar tender.

      "This is a fine beer but I'm looking for the good stuff."

      That is the good stuff, sonny,"

      Eric emmited the expected laugh and persisted. "I've heard you've got some stuff that's much better than your beer."

      "And what have you heard?"

      "Just that you've got some really good stuff, some real feel good stuff."

      "Must be that bourbon you've been hoarding, Tommy." The man speaking to the bartender had the look of a Marine who'd been on the beech a bit too long.

      Eric had another beer and because money didn't exist, simply left without having to pay a bill. People worked at what they did because they liked to work at what they did.

      "Who do you suppose that was?.

      The beer drinking customer replied "he has the look of a Fleetie, the boots and work trousers, you know."

      "True," the bar tender replied, thinking of the pale skin on the otherwise tanned face. There were two triangles that looked like recently shaved off "Jim Kirk" sideburns [which were known to be affected by Fleet Marines in particular] This particular guest had the same triangles when he'd began hanging out several months before and asking similiar questions. He smilled in a benign manner.

      I'll see if anyone at Fleet knows anything."

      Saying "Fleet" was something the current generation of Star Fleet did; it didn't necessary mean he was other than what he professed to be//colin// a "beached" Fleet Marine.

      Twenty minutes later, the apparent Marine returned.

      "He is a medically retired Fleet Officer, a Lietenant Commander. I have no idea what he is talking about."

      The bartender didn't believe him! To his eyes, the skinny stranger had been physically fit enought to be a Marine, had the Command feel of a Major, was too young to be senior enlisted and he had seen other Security Officers leave their ships and go looking to enforce the local laws the locals didn't seem able to enforce. Just another "visiting fireman" [whatever that meant] This beer drinker's response suggested to the bar tender a Marine working deep cover Security to find out something about the bar. He was right; the bar tender was a conduit for stollen information and was getting good latium for tidbits the "fleet sailors" liked to brag about...

      Five and a half months of deep cover work had gone down the "tubes" for the Sergeant Major after his cover had been inplicitely blown. Neither would ever find out.

      Later that week, Eric announced to all concerned that he was going "on walk about". He then left and moved around for a week, eatting at replicator stations and sleeping on beeches. Finally, he moved into an abandoned apartment near the Bolian Section of a beach community in what had been once called "Northern Calfornia". Here he began using larger doses of heroin and gradually built up a tollorance. He had been approached the lethal dose level when he decided he'd had enough of just hanging out on the beach drugged up. People were starting to talk to him like he was a mentally retarded dog. He took the anti-dotes, slept for 26 hours and woke up with quite an appitate. A side effect was the reversal of the constitupation. Years later, he would mention having taken his usual laxative after awakening and then shitting everything he stuffed inside himself for months...

      It didn't seem funny at the time.

     

      Eric went back to his apartment and found it unchanged. There were no messages on his answering machine; his desk sized terminal was unchanged (none of his intrusion detectin things were moved) and was still connected to Star Fleet Headquarters. (He didin't consider that someone wanting to examine "his" terminal would have simply logged in via a port he didn't need about and wouldn't desturbe the hairs so "casually" placed in stragetic locations.

      Eric started several deep searches. He looked up the byproducts of tobacco smoke and started both a world wide scan for these products and the history of the gases' presence on Earth. He hacked into the consolidated intelligence files and attempted to find any secret criminal organizations. He used Artificual Intelligence "agents" to seek the information he needed. LCDR Eric Randall Bellingham, Star Fleet Retired, stillhad a Ship Captain's accesses and some special accesses from his favourite Fleet Admiral.

      Eric decided to walk around town (San Francisco), was awed and shocked by the youth from the Academy,the small Enlisted Cadre who also served on Fleet Ships and their students and "Regular Folks". He ate seafood attwo different places, choclate on the waarf and three beers at a little place. Then, he went home and enjoyed afourteen hour sleep.

      He went back to the bar where he'd asked about "the good stuff".

      "May I have a beer?"

      "Yes, what will it be?"

      "A Henry Budweiser, please." (The Henry Wienhart folks would have been bemused had they known that someday Budweiser and Hentry Weinhart would have merged.)

      "That's good stuff. Is it the best you've got or do you have some really good stuff?"

      "I've got some really good stuff! Of course, 'good stuff' is in the mind of the beholder. Some folks like bourbon straight up, some like fermented Mare's Milk and there's a Klingon whose come in here, ordered Prune Juice and washed it down with Blood Wine. He says thats 'the good stuff'! So, you see sonny, 'good stuff'is subjective." The man, easily in his erly 50s grinned.

      "What do you think is 'the good stuff', young man?"""Ahhhh, the 'good stuff'."

      "Such a fine Marine response!"

      "Marine?"

      "Until you tell me more about this 'good stuff', I can't help you, Major."

      Feeling very flustered, Eric left in a hurry. He even committed the sin of leaving a partially filled lager on the table. The Marine casually finished his beer and drifted out of the bar, following Eric. This alone confirmed the br tender's belief this frequent guest was a "Fleet Agenta" looking into the bar and it's affairs.

     

      Eric decided he would get some bait.

      Eric used one of his medical tricorders and scanned several houses in a block. He found several houses that were unoccuppied and simply walked into the first one. The house didn't even have alocking mechanism on the door. There was nothing he couldn't have gotten easily or didn't already have. There was nothing worth stealing and so he left without the owners ever knowing they'd almost been robbed.

      The next house was different.

      Eric walked up to the door but it didi not open. He used his engineering tricorder to determine that a protective system was in use and that opening the door would set it off. Eric used some programmes his crew had written to penetrate the house owner's security system and scan the house contents. There was nothing worth stealing. THiswas beginning to disturbe Eric. The Marine Gunny following Eric was beginning to wonder just what the hell Eric wanted.

      "The third and fourth houses were barren and Eric simply scanned them from the curb of the carefully preserved "roads".

      The woman in one house called the emergency number.

      "San Franscso police, how may we help you, Mrs. Cassandra?"

      "There is a strange young manwalking in front of my house. He's waving one of those tricorder boxes Fleet liked to play with. I just don'tthihnk this is a good thing."

      "Wewilllook into it,Ma'am."

      On the other line, the Marine Gunny was listening.

      "Sir, what is your interest with this man?"

      "He is oneof ours and we'll take responsibility for his actions. Hehas just gone around the side of a building. I'm going to see what he's doing."

      "Sir," the police operator replied, "I'm scanning him with local sensors." There was a pause. "Perhaps it would be a nice thing for you to leave him be for now." The operator actually chuckled.

      "Why?"

      Sensors shows he is standing still at the side of a house, in agroup of trees."

      "I can't see him."

      "Of course not, sir, he is hiding. A low volume of warm liquid is appearing in front of him; this liquid is body temperature, has a high uric acid content and a small amount of organic material. Suggestions?"

      "He's taking a urination?"

      "Correct, he's having a urination and I hope he enjoys it! Computer analysis suggests it's a big volume event and event hints at his drinking beers."

      "True, he did drink beer a little while ago but he committedthe sin of leaving a partial beer on the table. A good beer, too."

      "What a pity."

      "Thank you for your cooperation, we'll take it from here."

     

      Eric had saved himself by having to piss; he had also discovered that there was nothing worth taking in the house. He finished his little mission and left for the curb. He never saw the Marine, who was using some sort of personal cloak that had been found on a Star Ship in the Delta Quadrant.

      Eric broke into the next house he found and took a tricorder. Then he broke into a yet another house, found anothing of real value but decided to steal a set of fancy flatware. HIs "fleet escort" waspuzzled by his actions...

      Eric had earlier found an unoccuped building and he went there. He dropped off his "booty" and used his tricorder to connect with his computer. The computer hadn't found any results for his inquiries.

      His premise was that stealing enough stuff would leadto people talking and this would get to the local crime families. Then, he just had to go around to a few places and the "word" would come to him.

      This idea was filled with wishfull thinking and dream stuff and had he been fully rational, he would have shot down the idea. Before the Wolf, he wold never have believe he could act as he been doing. He would have laughed and mocked the mixture of bad ideas, poor logic and simply lunacy in his notions and conclusions.

      But this was after the Wolf...

      Eric went to an upper floor of "his" building and entered very dusty rooms. There, he found an ancient "come along". This was a device that slide under big objects and generated artificual gravity fields to both support the "come along" above the floor and to hold objects on the "come along".

      He did a rather poor and prefunctuary job of scanning the area with his engineering tricorder. Even a high class scannign job would hvae been futile as the Marine squad were all "cloaked".

      Eric took a mobile from near "his" warehouse to a house some 20 clicks from there. The 'mobile" was a chair which used an internal anti-gravity drive to float just above the paement and which cruised at a precise 25 kilomters per hour. It was a pleasant drive and he was easy to follow: noone else was being followed by a "comealonmg". And follow him the did. Men on floasting chairs rode behing Eric and pulled off to the side fo the road before he suspected. Other men used transporters to bean onto side strees ahead of Eric and "followed hiim from ahead". Others forcast where he could be going and went there. It was an interesting exercise.

      The trip ended at a fairly nice house. It was centries old`and had a driveway looping around an island of grass. Eric noted three different sensor systems but oddly enough, none of them wee working. This along would have caused the "old" Eric to fleein terror.The "new" Eric thought thought distainfully of the folks who lived there.

      Eric walkedup to the front door and found it unopened.He coudln't believe the laxness and lack of security this folks exibited. Eric should have realized that two secruity ssytems had been focused on the door and the door had been unlocked for him.

      Eric walked around inside the house and decided that everything was either too commmon to steal or simply too big to take. He called in the "come along", arbituarily took their sofa and marched outside.

      The sight of Eric Randall Bellingham, LCDR (ret) marching along side his sofa toting "come along" was so military the Marines watching were amazed, amused and horrfyied. They later agreed this retired officer was still a Star Fleet Officer. Deep inside was the soul of a Fleet Officer and they felt hope for him.

      He was pathetic but he could be saved if only he would help others help himself...

     

      Eric took back roads and got "his" sofa into "his" warehouse. He settled the sofa by one wall, sat at the table and looked at the two other stollen items. A horrible truth was being to sink in.

      His tricoder attached to his home terminal was flashing. Eric opened access to his terminal by letting the tricorder monitor his bio-signs. The data there confirmed his fears.

      He coudln't find any drug dealers because there were no drug dealers.

      He couldn't find anyone "fencing" stollen goods because there no fences.

      There was no point in stealing items because everything could so easily be obtained by replicator, by barter or by requesting.

      Earth hadn't used money in many decades, therefore the economy was very, very different from that of his beloved novels set in the 20th Century. People couldn't get everything they wanted but an allotment system based on "credits" earned determined who got what. (It was very Soviet.) The saving grace was that production was done by automated factories or hand built by artisians. There was simply no want...

      Eric began laughing and that lead to tears of despair...

     

      He hardly reacted when the Star Fleet Marines (acting in their Security role) walked in and sat around the table.

      So, Lieutenant Commander, what are you going to do with this stuff? Why did you steal it?"

      Eric roared with laughter and sobbed "you would never believeme if I told you!"

      They believed him and he didn't notice when a Vulcan walked up behind him, did a very quick and throughl mind meld and walked away shaking his head.

      "This young man was quite right, we would not beleve him. He was so hurt by the Borg attack that he started using drugs - stong drugs - to hide his pain. Some of these drugs were not used for centuries and our doctors have forgotten how bad they are. They have even forgotten how to tell when they were used." She paused. "This officeris the first hair-oh-win addict in perhaps 150 years. No one realy knows how to treat this addiction."

      "Is that true?"

      "About the hair-oh-win additiction?"

      "Yes. There are anti-dotes but there are no known ways to remote the cravings. The cravings! The literature I read didn't talk about the cravings! ANyone got a drink, something alcoholic?"

      One of the Security Marines handed Eric a small flask of rum. Eric chugged some, sat for several minutes while the effect kicked in, then chugged some more.

      "I feel better,"Eric said.

      Another thing forgotten in the "clean centuries" (i.e. drug free centuries) was that stong alcohol could help junkies survive withdrawal. He would do a lot of resisting in the coming years. He had suffered a lot of emotional pain.

      "So, what are we to do with this stuff?"

      The Gunny who had drank with Eric replied.

      "We'll return it to the owners."

      The tricoder was simply beamed back near where Eric had stollen it and no one knew it'd been taken. It was too late to beam back the silverwear. The owners were having a party.

      They intercepted a call to the local police, reporting the missing items. They simply beamed them to a nice location and the owners called back with an embarrassed "we found them. Sorry about calling you."

      The sofa was another matter. The sofa was too large to be beamed back and his thieft was too unusual. The Marines called the Sector Admiral and told him the situation. The Admiral called Star Fleet Medical they agreed to take Eric into custodial care. They monitored the conversation:

      "Police, this is StarFleet Medical. We woiuld like to intervene here."

      "Why? What is Star Fleet's interetinthis matter?"

      "The person who stole the sofa is a medically retired StarFleet officer. He may be clinically insane and that is the reason he felt it necessary to steal your sofa. We would like to return your property."

      "WHy would an officer steal a sofa?"

      "It is not something we care to discuss."

      "Fine! Give his name to the police."

      "He was a senior officer on a fleet ship at the WOlf 359 disaster. He took command after his Commanding Officer was killed by the Borg. He did rescue work and had victims die in his arms. He is walking wounded."

      The Gunny interjected:

      "During Earth's so-called 'Second World War', a group of elite soldiers faught a desparate battle. Many were killed, many wounded and some of them later died of their wounds. An outstanding officer on one side said 'we were all casualties'."

      "This man was a serious casualty. We don'tknow if he can be saved but we need to try. Trying him for thieft would destroy our hopes for him. He is not body injured and he is more than mentally injured, he is soul sick. Threr is hope but it has to be under the treatment of the correct people."

      "We would like to speak with this thief!"

      Eric howled in agony.

      The woman who had demanded to speak with Eric blanched and said "get him treated! He can keep the sofa!"

      "We will replace your sofa with anyone you want. We can send some of our best interior decorators to your home tomorrow." Those listening were shocked. "We have interior decorators for the Embasseys etc."

      Eric was taken to the main Star Fleet Hospital, was checked in and given a healthy meal. Eric had gained some 12 pounds, which was remarkable for a person in that century. Then, he spent some time simply talking with his doctor and he was put to bed on a rather comfortable bed. He suspected this bed was a high class medical instrument and he was correct.

     

      Eric awoke in a strange bed and it took him several minutes to realize where he was. Only when he looked like he a aware of his surroundings did a bearded man come in.

      LCDR Eric Randall, I am Dr. Donage and may I call you Eric?"

      Sure, why not and did you say Doctor?"

      "Yes," Dr. Donage replied with a smile, "I have that distinction."

      "Are you, by any chance, a Betazoid?" Eric really meant "are you a mind reader?"

      "No, of course no!" Dr. Donage thought "but I am a half Bdtazoid and a weak telepath.'

      "Eric, you've really gotten yourself messed up. Do you realize you're the first herion addict in over a hundred years? We're really not sue how to treat you."

      "I'm sorry about that; I'm not sure I'd been addicted if I really knew the consequences."

      Dr. Donage suspected Eric Bellingham would have been even more addicted had he known the consequences.

      "We're going to have to get your health back to normal. You're still in fairly good shape. Did you work out on your ship?"

      "Yes, I ran on a trendmill for 30 minutes a day, lifted weights three times a week and we all did situps, pushups, chin-ups, sit-ups and a fewother exercises several times a week. It wasn't exactly fun but like a Muslim doing their five prayesrs a day, we did our workouts."

      "How come we don't hear this in the Star Fleet publicity?"

      "Would you join a military unit that requires physical workouts and which generally doesn't have those 'Jim Kirk adventures'?" He smirked; he had been on three "away parties" to alient worlds; two had been to dead worlds and nothing had happened, one had been to an inhabited world and the away party had barely excaped charging aliens. They then surveyed this planet from orbit...

      "Have you felt disappointed by this?"

      "What difference? The difference between the publicity stories and the reality of ship duty? Not really, I've been an engineer most of my career."

      "So, your focus was always the engineering?"

      Yes, it was, no, wait a minute," he paused. "At first, I was purely interested in Engineering but then I realized that as much as I like engineering, I like command better."

      "But command requies taking responsibility, yes?"

      "Yes, it does."

      "How do you deal with the stress?"

      "We were taught various coping stregeties."

      "Is becoming a herion addict one of those techniques?"

      "No, it is not!"

      Dr. Donager wasn't a very strong telepath but he was a telepath and could tell his patient was heading for emotional shutdown and he dind't want this. He decided to change subjects.

      "Have you ever gone sailing?"

      "Sailing?"

      "Sure. Can you see those sailboats out on the harbour? They're planning on leaving the staging area, make a loop around the old Museum Island and come back. We doctors have a running bet on the outcome."

      "What did you bet?" Dr. Donager read the thoguht "loser gets to treat the looney officer".

      "The race hasn't started yet and I haven't lost." Eric didn't realize this MD must have read his mind. "I've bet my ancestor's Coffee Cake. That is, if I lose, I have to bake a very large batch of my ancestors coffee cake. Besides, I'm afraid they're getting tired of it, anyway."

      "Really?" Eric really hated it when his crewmen felt sorry for themselves; it was a pity he couldn't hear himself but the Doctor could...

      "Yes, they are," Dr. Donager said as he checked a medical tri-corder.

      "Well, let me try some."

      The MD was happy to hear this but kept this from showing.

      Several minutes later, a nurse broght in a tray with slices of coffee cake, covered in melted butter. This was real butter on real coffee cake made with real sugar etc. It was decadent and something that "good" MDs didn't prescribe; Eric needed some good food and this was a start.

      Some minutes later, the doctor spoke.

      "Do you have any idea just how dangerous this herion really is? Do you have any warning that you'll spend years fighting the temptation to use this material and the conditions under which you are most vulnerable to useage?"

      "Er, no sir."

      "Well, Eric, you are going to be.""Several minutes later, the sedatives in the coffee kicked in and Eric nodded off. They moved Eric to a gurney and took him into an oerating room where a very intensive physical scan of Eric was conducted. They noted the constipation and used a transporter to beam in stool losteners and did other things to Eric that he didn't need to know...

     

      That night, Dr. Donager, Eric's lead physicaian, called his parents.

      "Mr. Bellingham, Mrs. Bellingham, I am Dr. D'jel Donager and am your son Eric's lead medical doctor. Have you heard from Eric lately?"

      "No, Doctor," Mrs. Bellingham replied, "he jsut sent us a note saying he 'was going on walk about'. We're worried about him, a large number of people from his ship have called and we haven't known what to tell Emmily."

      "Would that be Emmily LaFere?"

      "Yes, she is. Do you know her?"

      "No, sir, I don't but I know the French section of Star Fleet Medical has charge of her treatment. She has a lot of issues and her doctors don't think she should talk with 'her Eric' quite yet."

      "'Her Eric'?"

      "Yes, her Eric," Dr. Donager answered sadly, "for a couple that loves each other, they seem more iterested in dancing around each other than in dancing with with each other." He thought "dancing in her" but couldn't tell if he had thought that or if one of Eric's parents had; he thought the Mother had.

      Eric woke up the next morning in "his room" and never realized he'd been to the treatment room. A minister came to see him but Eric didn't remember the man's name let alone his denomination. This was most unlike Eric; before the Borg, Eric could have remembered the Preacher's full name, significant physical characterists, denomination and the main points of their discussion. All he rmememebered was "general religious talk" and that would bug him in later years.

      The following Tuesday, Eric was released from the hospital but wsa strongly encouraged to move into Fleet housing. Eric could tell an order when he heard one and obeyed...

     

      The "Marine" Gunny (actually a Sergeant Major") met Eric and suggested, in front of Eric's nursing staff minder, "why don't we go for a nice run?"

      "Sure, let's!" Eric said in a tone of bring enthusanism that fooled no one. "I'd love a nice run!"

      Both men ran a slow two blocks before they were out of sight of the residence and the Marine said "I think I've run long enought. Want to walk, instead?"

      "Well, for you, I'll give up this easy run." Eric was blowing like a blast furnace but he'd been able to keep up, barely able to keep up...

      "Have you ever thought about the 'old days', the days of the United States of America or the United Kingdom. I'm talking about their Navies, where some of their Marine officers received the same training at their Navy Academies and the rest at civilian colleges? In our time, all our officers are trained at the Academy and are basically Navy officers with Marine Core training and orientation."

      "I haven't really thought about that but it seems to me that our Academny is more Marine than Navy. Look how easy it is more the 'Navy branch' offices and enlisted to act as Marines with little training."

      "It's that survival and space training, it's really Marine training with a different name."

      "Are you saying you didn't get specialized Marine training?"

      "Yes, I did, just as you got specialized engineering and ship driving training."

      They walked for another couple of hours. Of course, they didn't walk continuously, they stopped for coffee a coupld of times and had a nice lunch just before Eric returned to his quarters. They arranged to meet the next day.

      "did you have a nice walk," Eric's "minder" asked when Eric was back inside the halfway house.

      "I sure did! We're going for another walk tomorrow."

      The minder already knew this; Eric had been wearing a "bug" and nither he nor Marine knew this.

      Eric had wanted the experience of the early 20th century. He didn't realize that he was being treated as a medical casualty and not like a "drug crazed madman running loose" as he would have in his precious 20th century!

      Eric had a very nice breakfast the next day. He didn't realize the meal was mostly bulk and that it was a nicly designed diet plate. The bacon, fried eggs, fried potatoes, coffee cake, orange juice and coffe were in portions a bit bigger than was the normal in the 23th century and would have been considered on the light side in Eric's precious 20th.

      Eric's Marine ate with Eric and the other inmtes.

      Then, Eric was in a low key therapy session for a couple of hours. After that, he left for a basketball game.

      Eric had once been a fine player. He was badly out of practice (basketball didn't go well with the exposed equipment or controls that peppered the TAMERLANE, a ship that wasn't the modern showcase of safe design that ENTERPRISE was. TAMERLANE had been designed as a warship and that meant being able to get easy access to varous components of the ship.

      Eric actually got a couple of baskets and suspected the other players had given his an easy time. Three weeks later, after he'd lost 15 pounds, Eric knew he'd been treated very gently that first day; he wasn't being treated gently now and wouldn't have it any other way!

      Eric wouldn't realize for some years just how different his treatement had been from that of junkies in the 20th. In the 20th century, he would have been jailed and probably left to crash, to come "cold turkey" down from the herion. Instead, he was given slow medical treatement to reverse the effects of the drug.

      In the 20th, he would not be playing basketball with the police who'd "busted" him and Emmily and him would not have had Sunday brunch at the police chief's home.

      The reunion with Emmily had been painful with recriminations and expressions of love and concern and left Eric (and Emmily) with the knowledge that each loved the other. It was a damned shamne that neither felt the urge to "get physical" but in the long run, that was a good thing.

     

      In late August 2365, a meeting was held to decide Eric's future. FADM Hanson, FADM  Dr. "Bones" McCoy, CDR Beverly Crusher, Dr. Donager and the Marine/Security Sergeant Major met.

      The FADM spoke first:

      "What are we to do with this officer?"

      "The man is a failure as a civilain," the Sergeant Major spoke first.

      "He is a natural ship driver and is only at home on ships," Dr. Donager, who had been ENTERPRISES's doctor before Beverly Crusher agreed.

      "Then, what job can we put him into? Chief Engineer?"

      "We could, Dr. McCoy but that isn't quite good enough. A Chief Engineer controlls Engineering but Eric Bellingham need more control than that. He needs to control the ship itself, he needs to know he can keep his people safe or if necessary to endanger them, he'll be the one to endanger them. Eric thinks that he and only he can insure the minimum casualty count."

      "Well, then, Admiral, I don't think we can put him directly in command of any ship. We need to ease him back 'into the harness'".

      "I agree, Dr. McCoy and I've already got an answer. We can put him in a special training class at the Academy. After that, we can put him in command of the General's boat; the general is about to accept Eric's Vulcan as a patient -er- his commanding offier. I'm not sure what classes though."

      "I have just the classes in mind, Fleet Admiral. He can take a 8 am class in command philosophy, a class in the paperwork a Captain needs to know, the specialized legal training he or she needs and emphasis on the proper mind set for command, a class in comparative religion, work out hard before lunch and the real course: We're going to give him an open afternoon schedule starting with damage control classes and then therapy."

      "What is the joke?"

      "Wait my dear Dr. Beverely, just wait and you'll see." The Sergeant Major laughed and when they finally got the answer from him, the rest of the meeting lagughed as well...

     

      Eric sat in an easy chair across from Dr. Donage and wondered what the good doctor seemed secretive about.

      "Eric, have you thought about what you want to do with the rest of your life?"

      "I thought I'd try getting the training for a civilian life."

      "Oh, male targ feces! You're not a 'civilian', not now Eric. YOu're a sailor at heart."

      "True, I am. I suppose I could get hired on a merchant vessel and finally see the universe."

      Dr. Donager simply stared.

      "Haven't you ever wanted to sail on a tramp steamer and see the sea? Doc?"

      "Are you serious?"

      "No. I would like to return to space but if I can't go on a Star Fleet vessel, then it would have to be a merchant ship."

      "What makes you think you're barred from Star Fleet ship command?"

      "What would bar me? How about the drug addiction? How about the thieving? How about running up a criminal record? How about that?"

      "What criminal record, Eric? You were never charged with 'thieving' as your friends talked the home owners out of pressing charges. The drug addiction is not a crime in this century even if it was a crime in the 20th century; it is a medical problem and medical problems can either be cured and an officer can return to space or said officer is treated or medically retired.

      'We're told you'll be taking command of a small boat after the refresher training. This ship's First Officer said 'he's already pencilled in our name as his next Commander'". The General is looking forward to meeting you."

      "Bottom line: I would be back in space on a fleet vessel?"

      "Yes, Eric, you would be and you'd be in command."

      "I accept then!"

     

      Eric was nervous before the first class. He had been asked to wear his working uniform, which the uniform of a commissioned offier and not a cadet's uniform. He didn't wear rank insignia and left many of his classmates to wonder if he was an officer or a Chief. The speculation wasn't helped with Eric was overheard having a private conversation with his old classmate William Riker. They were clearely friends, were easy about using first names, Riker was worried about Eric's health and hoped that Eric would "command another deck soon".

      Eric hadn't noticed the door was open when he talked to Will Riker.

      Eric's picture and the naem "Eric Bellingham" was ran through the databases and the legends of Eric was rapidly inflated.

     

      Later, when the instructors discussed the "Piccard Manuever".

      "The so called 'Piccard Mannever' is based on belief that a very brief, high power jump into and out of warp can move a ship safely even in a very deep gravity well. Any observers will think the ship jumping has escaped or exploded. The useage is contra-indicated."

      "I respectfully disagree. It worked well for Captain Piccard and if the equations are solved properly, a modern star ship can make a brief 'Piccard jump'. Of course, it takes training and the ship's systems have to be in very good shape and it takes luck."

      "And you knowledge of this is?"

      "I knew TAMERLANE's warp engines were in good enough shape for a 'Piccard Manuever', my bridge crew calculated the jump correctly and their results agreed with mine, the Borg were closing and I made the jump out of desparation."

      Eric's classmates looked at each other. So, this was LCDR Eric Bellingham, late of the late TAMERLANE!

      "I commanded TAMERLANE at Wolf 359 after my Captain was murdered by those God Damned Borg!"

      There was an embarrassed silence after Eric's roar.

      "I guess I still have strong feelings about the matter."

      The class discussion continued but the atmosphere was different. It was one thing to have "that old fart, he must be 31 years old" as a classmate and it was quite another to have a decorated war hero. All they knew about Eric was he had been medically retired for severe stress.

     

      Eric went to the damage control class and on the first day, hoped the material would get better.

      On the second day, Eric thought the material was so badly presented that he prayed it would get better.

      On the third day in the class, Eric had enough. He asked to speak with the instructors.

      "I hate to criticize all of you for this class but it needs to be stronger if it's going to prepare officers and crew to serve now. After all, we're facing the Borg, probably the Romulans, the Cardessian and we'll have to live with the Klingons and Norseicans. The training seems fine, most of it but the emphasis seems to be on following procedures. You should teach how to blend different procedures and break the chain of command; have junior people be put in the position of having to take charge of dealing with broken coolant pipes, intruders, away parties where tricorder wielding yeoman have to use phasers to escape from attackers. There are also traditional drills that will help remove arrogance from some of my fellow students and many lesson from the past. Just a suggestion, ladies and gentlemen."

      "So, you want to take over as Lead Instructor for the rest of this eight month course, Eric"?"

      "Yes, I do, sir."

      Then, you have it! Pleae formulate your changes with your instructors; they have mentioned changes they'd like to implement.

      After Eric left to attend "my session" (group therapy session), one of the instructors looked at the rest and said "that Marine was right! We have a wolverine here!"

     

      On the first day of the next week, when Eric announced he was taking over as Lead Instructor, Eric was speaking to every student in the damage control/survival class (which only met afternoons).

      "The instruction circulum is very well written and quite compreshesive and I'm not changing that. What we're changing is the mind set. It is one thing to know and execute emergency procedures. You will even learn how to blend or modify procedures on the fly. This is traditional as well. There are some folks who wouldn't normally take command in a crisis and they will be doing so. You're also going to do some old drills that can't happen on a ship."

      "An example would be to put emergency patches on fresh water pipes. Does this sound practical?"

      One of the brighter cadets spoke: "Sir, I don't know if putting an emergency patch on a fresh water pipe is relevant but putting an emergency patch on a pipe carrying pressurized helium from a pebble bed reactor might be very important. Sir."

      "A pebble bed reactor? Who uses those?" This instructor knew this answer already.

      "Sir, the Tangray disdain fussion reactors and use Pu239 pebble bed reactors for their auxialiary power. Any of use assigned to a Tangray ship should know how to patch or repair their systems, sir."

      "Quite right, quite right, Mr. James. I don't hpoe you'll serve on their ships but if you do, you'll be ahead of the game."

      There was a pause as a screen slid down behind Eric. This was so 21st Century...

      "What we're going to see is an actual history tape. First, the setup. In the mid 20th century, 1967, a great Naval vessel was preparing to conduct combat operations. He flashed some images. There are the combat craft they flew. He showed a variety of period piece Naval aircraft and how they were launched and recovered on the carrier. The students had a bit of trouble getting used to 2-D images.

      Then he showed images of how the weaspons were loaded, armed and fired.

      "You've now seen enough to comprehend the disaster about to unfold. Thee will be surprises...

      The movie started and the "US NAVY" credits flowed past. The students looked at the aircraft "in pack", they watched a very young looking man check something with what looked like a tricorder, pull a flag and then die when I missile launched.

      The missile rammed shot across the deck, hit another warbird and it exploded, firing the archiat weapons at other warbirds and soon the deck was a hell of fire, explosions and running men.

      Groups of men holding long hoses hoses advanced across the burning deck and something coming out of the hoses dampened the fires. Then, to their surprise, other teams came across the deck, also pouring liquid from their hoses and the fires resumed. It was most puzzling...

     

      "Does anyone see the disasters occurring? For those who are wondering, this was the USS FORRESTAL. "USS" stands for "United States Ship" in this case."

      No one responded.

      "First, they should have put each warbird on the catapult before pulling the safties. Then, had the missle fired, it might have killed, burned to death, the missile tech and may have hurt the launch control officer but the missile would not have struck other warbirds and set off a series of explosions. Can anyone guess what caused this problem?"

      Eric knew it was too esoteric.

      "What about the tech?"

      "Was he using a tricorder on the launching mechanism? Did he misuse it?"

      "Good response and I like your reasoning. Now, they didn't have tricorders then, what the sailor had was a static electricity detector. The weapon was fired by a pulse fired down a pair of wires. When he removed the flag, he removed a safety that shorted out the firing lines. You'll rmember from basic electricity that a shorted pair of lines won't allow current to get to the load - the firing mechanism in this case. What happened is the static electricity detector failed and when the lad pulled the safety, a surge of static electricity on the line set off the missile's firing mechanism."

      He paused.

      "The first crew of hosemen were pouring a fire surpressing compound on the highly inflamatory fuel and initially stopped the fires. The follow on hosemen poured cold sea water on the deck. I suppose this was to cool off the deck and prevent it from warping. What it also did was remove the protective coating and allow the fire to resume. There were a number of deaths. Do any of you know where the worst deaths were?"

      "The pilots in the warbirds and the crew working on their warbirds?"

      "Yes, many did so die and they received a high honour, the Purple Heart, for wounds suffered in the line of duty during a war time operation. I doubt their widows and orphans and parents and other friends and relatives took much confort. The real kill zone was in a large so-called 'berthing compartment'. That was a large room where some 80 sailors - crewmen if yous will - were ordered to stay. They were ordered to stay in this room and when they started coughing they obeyed orders and so they died from smoke inhaliation. It was a horrible tragety!"

      There was a long pause and one of the instructors asked "comments, please".

      "Maintain your chain of command."

      "Know your jobs."

      "Know what to do in disasters!"

      "Know when to disobey stupid and dangerous orders!"

      "Now, that is an interesting answer! You do know that a major goal of military training is to instill instant obedience to orders and to do dangerous things, ever risk or give up your life, because your senior officers or senior enlisted believe it necessary. Ok, this is Basic Military Philosophy 101. A way to get around this is for everyone to know what to do in emergencies, how to respond and the reasons for the responses. But, you are right in this case. The chain of command failed to keep situation awareness and the proper people allowed sailors to die. We are going to teach everyone this philosophy. The course that has been taught did this nicely; we're going to improve on that!"

      The students then watched some other presentations and "enjoyed" a five hour class. The next day, the classes went back to an hour each and Eric and his insturctor began handling the five sections.

     

      The restraunt was very nice and situated near the Columbia River in Vancouver. He was decked out in a light green tunic, dark green trousers and fleet work boots. He had a Bajorian Vedic's nose ring on, what must have been a miniturized Order of the Baalith around his neck and under the tunic and a Star Fleet Medical Doctor's comms badge. He stood out...

      Eric's Father wondered in and each recognized the other immediately. (A 7 foot tall old Klingon who had gaunted out with age was immediately obvious.)

      The General met Eric's Father before he could get to the table.

      "Henry, son of Andrew, of the House of Bellingham, I am Wand, son of Jorell, of the House of Wand. It is an honor to met you, sir. I met your son years ago and have been very favourably impressed with him. I greive with thee."

      "Thank you, sir. Are you a doctor?"

      The two walked back to the table. The General ordered two local brewed beers.

      "This is a good choice, Doctor, how did you know?"

      "Your son Eric told me which beer to pick and please call me Wand. I am a Star Fleet trained Medical Doctor and have served the Federation for 30 years now. Your Eric is one of the finest people I've met and it is his virtues that have driven him to irrational behaviour. He is receiving excellent treatment but there is something deep inside Eric that is preventing him from fully healing. You could think of what I propose as a final attempt at healing."

      "Does it work well?"

      "Henry, it has worked with Vulcans, Humans, Klingons, Bolients, Andorians and even a Breen. Of course," the General roared with laughter, "the Breen was my prisoner!"

      "What did you do with the Breen?"

      "I had my second officer arrange a way for this Breen to escape and to steal away in on of my ship's shuttles. Of course, he thought there were covert tracking beacons and he found the ones we intended for him to find. The ones we didn't intend to find were what the AMERICA battle group followed. Star Fleet seemed to accidentally interupt a Breen attack on a Bajorian refugee ship. We recovered our shuttle and our ersewhile priosoner escaped; he has been a very moderate Breen officer since then and has apparently prevented violence.

      "Now, what I plan is..."

     

      Six months into the eight month course, Eric got too tired and broke down; he shot up with the herion and thought he could use the anti-dote before anyone noticed. he had gone back to his old apartment before doing this. He woke up the next moring in the clinic of the halfway house; he was on an exaning table.

      "What the bleeding hell were you thinking?"

      "I don't know why I just had to do it..."

      "What was your schedule yesterday?"

      Eric told him and the Nurse/Doctor Assistant (who would have rated as an MD in the 20th Century) and the N/DA immediately responded: "You were too damned tired!"

      They spoke for several minutes and his therapists talked with him. Eric had missed his morning classes and after lunch, made it to the second of the five afternoon classes. He looked in the room, nodded at his students and welked up to the instructor's offices. The students were told "Mr. Bellingham was ill and will be missing class."

      The students knew Eric had some kind of emotional problems from the Wolf disaster. They were sympathic but didn't know what they could do to help. Actually, not making a fuss over Eric was the best they could have done. Eric was very much a traditional officer and believed that Senior Officers didn't tell there problems to their junior people.

     

      The decussion of religion was one which Eric was very interested. He had been a Methodist and now wondered how God could have let the Borg loose. He studied a number of religious faiths in this class and that actually helped his recovery.

      A week after his breakdown, Dr. Wand was back at Star Fleet Medical Headquarters. He had brought his great-granddaughter, B'linna, with him. After his briefing on Eric, he decided that Eric would be a good candidate. But, inspite of having lived in the Federation for 30 years, he still thought important questions had to be decided by the family and not just the individual.

      The General contacted Eric's father and arranted a meeting; he also contacted LT Emmily LaFeere and asked her to attend. They arranged to meet at an outdoor restraunt near Mt. Hood. It was very private.

      The General and his great-granddaughter enter after Eric's family. The General spoke:

      "Shall I make introductions? I am Wand, son of Jorell, of the House of Wand. This is my great-granddaughter, B'linna. B'linna, our hosts are Henry, son of Andrew, Kathryn, daughter of Linda and their daughter Kaylee. This young lady is Emmily, daughter of Deborah, of the house of LaFere. If they give their permission, their son Eric will be in command of my boat. I would like to discuss the whole matter.""Certainly, grandfather."

      "Perhaps I should talk about me first. I served with the Klingon Armed Forces for 90 years. I was a ship's officer for 14 years, then a Marine officer for 6 years and the logical counsequence would have been for me to assume command of a Marine company. Instead and with perfect Klingon logic, I was given command of my first ship. I spent the last 70 years of my Naval career commanding ships." He looked directly at Kaylee. "I served on the far side of the Klingon and never faught Federation members. In fact, I helped pevent the deaths of Federation settlers on a planet near one of my patrol routes."

      "How was that, General?"

      "A compact white dwarf star slammed through a G class star. This resulted in massive fussion occurring and the G class star emmited the amount of energy it should have in about a million years. The energy was so intense that the planets simply evaporated. I have imagery of it. Anyway, we knew of the human settlement and when we realized what was about to happen, we were able to evacuate the entire settlement. We later resettled them in a Federation deisgnated site."

      He paused.

      "Then, I retired, visited Earth for the first time and met my old friend Lenard McCoy and he talked me into going to Star Fleet Medical school. I specialized in illness of the heart and mind. Over the years, I studied on Bajor and became a Vedick, revived my Kliongon religious studies and eventually studied Earth religions. I may not be a Christian or Muslim or Jew but the highest officials of those faiths have given me the training and permission to minister to their members. It has been very helpful in my work. Your Eric is a Liberal Chistian with definite leandings towards Reform Jewdianism. He is haunted by the ghots of Wolf 359. That would be bad enough but there is one particualar set of memories that drives me to drugs and he can't or won't tell us that what is. We believe that my crew can help him.

      "Why are you telling us this?" Eric's mother wanted to know.

      "Among Klingons, family is everything. The decision to do this must be made with the familie's blessing and permission; even if Eric doesn'twant to serve as my ship's commander, he willhave to should his family demand it."

      The General's serene belief in the sancity of the family alone was sufficient to concince Eric's family to go along with the plans.

      "What will Eric have to do?" For once Kaylee referred to her bother as "Eric".

      "He will simply have to be hisself, my dear, simply that. Only then can we pressure him into revealing the ghosts that torment them and only then can we exorcise them.

      There was some general conversation when B'linna saw her great-grandfather give her the eye and slash his eyes to her left and she knew it was time to draw off Kaylee.

      "Kaylee, would you mind going with me to the other side. I want to see the valley."

      The young woman and young girl walked off. After a few minutes, the elderly Klingon acted startled and looked at Emmily. "Young lady, would you mind checking on my great=granddaughter? Thank you!"

      Emmily walked off and Eric's Mother spoke: "I have very good hearing and heard nothing. Were you trying to get Emmily away from here?"

      "Yes, I was. There is a matter concerning Emmily. Since Emmily and Eric are betrouthed, you are acting for her parents. She is probably more damaged than Eric. Only by goingon my ship and helping treat Eric and some others can Emmily be cured. We hope. This is a family mnatter, her parents are too far away and since you two are acting in her parent's names, I need your permission."

      "Betrouthed?"

      "They plan on marrying?"

      "You need our permission?"

      "Emmily and Eric have been living like a married couple that doesn't have sexual relations and which occaionally lives apart. Hense, the need for your permission. Why they don't declare their love is something I can't figure out."

      "They were on the same ship and at the end, Emmily worked for him. By human customs, that prevented their relationship."

      "Maybe," the General mused, "I'll have to include discussions of being sneaky to these kids."

      Eric's parents and Emmily's "acting parents" nodded in agreement.

      Minutes later, the two young women and the girl came back as the "old farts" were discussing the merits of some old style of coffee.

      The big hit of the rehab center, gosip-wise, was the Vulcan who had been saved from the Borg. He had become extremely emotional, become extrmemely unemotional and in his occasillations, had visited various human churches. He liked the answers he found there.

      He spent about six hours a day for five months in intensive study (which for a Vulcan is very intense) and ended up joining the Catholic Church.

      Eric, Emmily and the survivors of "the Wolf" and a number of others watched his First Communion. It was a very moving experience and it was very strange to see a Vulcan officer wearing a simple cross over his uniform tunic. Something that initially seemed very wrong occurred:

      The Vulcan's fiance broke off their engagement.

     

      Later that week, the newly "made" Vulcan Catholic who had changed his name to "Brother Soran" was meeting with Eric, his "sister" Emmily (who had saved his life) and the head of the Rehab Centre.

      "I asked the Bishop if I could attend the Seminary. He said 'no'. I asked why and he said 'you, my Son, are on the emotional rebound. Your fiance has abandoned you, your certainties in religious belief have been shaken, you will be facing the Pon Fare and you need to do a great deal of soul searching'. I was furious."

      "You were furious?"

      "Yes, my sister, I was furious! His Holiness, my Bishop, didn't say anything but let me regain my 'emotional composure' and realize that I'd felt a very ancient and very dangerous emotion: True Vulcan Rage!"

      "What really bothers you Torrock, er, Brother Soran?" Eric asked.

      "She left me!" the stiken Vulcan screamed.

      About thirty feet away, a couple in Star Fleet "civilian" clothing were starteled into pausing.

      "What was that about," the male "Fleetie" asked.

      "That is the Vulcan who 'found' Jesus at the Wolf; his fiance left him when she learned he'd become Catholic", the female replied.

      "Damn!" and this was more than a surprised cures, it was a religious statement.

      After several minutes, a handsome couple (an old "black" woman and an old "white" man) walked over to them and she asked "May we joing you?"

      Eric jumped to his feet.

      "Yes, ma'am! Good morning to you both!"

      The wait staff brought over chairs for the two newcomers to Eric's little party. After they were seated, Eric made introdutrions.

      "How about I use the simplified introction style? LT Dr. Emmily SueAnn LaFere, ENSIGN Brother Soran and the Head of the Rehabilitation Centere, Dr. Naomi Lenora Kissinger, SJ, please meet Fleet Admiral Paval Checkof and Fleet Admiral Fleet Admiral Nyota (U)penda Uhura."

      The members of the group nodded acknowledgements.

      "Fleet Admiral Checkof", "Brother Soran spoke, "did you serve with Admbassadore Spoke on the old ENTERPRISE?"

      "Yes, I did," FADM Checkof's heavy Russian accent was nearly gone.

      "Spoke once said you seemed so terribly young and naive when you were an Ensign, Sir."

      There was a general air of embarrassemnt; it was clear this Vulcan was himself very young and very naive.

      FADM Uhura replied in high Vulcan: "He is no longer 'terrible young and naive', young man. He grew up and commanded three major ship and one fleet in combat."

      FADM Checkkof replied in the same language: "Two fleets in combat."

      Then, in English, Checkof explained:

      "She who is my wife just told this very young man that I 'grew up', commanded three major ships and one fleet. I commanded two fleets in combat!"

      Uhura simply rolled her eyes.

      Emmily spoke: "To what do we owe the honour of this visit, Sirs?"

      "Checkof spoke softly in Russian: "I like this girl, she speaks her mind."

      Uhura replied: "Da! ("yes") We Fleet Admirals must have our little conversations; it proves we are high ranked enough to be rude and lends us an air of power." She smilled and then spoke directly to Emmily. "Pavil said 'I like this girl, she speaks her mind.' I replied 'Da' or yes." She then looked at Eric: "I am also quite fond of you and have hope for you. Paval has an idea of something that could help all three of you." She then looked at "Brother Soran" and said "I have contcted old friends who are concerned about you. They will be contacting you to offer you discussion." Then in the Batazed, which was the "milk tongue" of Dr. Naomi Lenora Kissinger, SJ,"perhaps you should tell him how he came to the attention of Mother Church?" (Dr. Kissinger's Father was Human and her Mother was Betazoiz and the good Doctor an excellent empath and fair telepath.)

      "I am a member of the Society of Jesus, a 'Father' and I am the first one who thought you were Catholic at heart. Do you rmemeber meeting the Bishop at a Saturday brunch?"

      Brother Soran shook his head "two" and that failure of memory was a clear sign he was not a mentally healthy Vulcan; he was sane, still had emotional "issues" but still had cerebral deficits. His damaged memory was one such "issue".

      "We could see that Mother Church would help you; I spoke with the head of the Vulcan Center on Earth and she said 'young Torrock' will not be able to achieve the Erasure of His Emotions but if joing the Holy Roman Catholic Church will help him, then the Vulcan hierarchy fully supports his joining."

      "Brother Soran" looked stunned.

      "I didnt' know and now I don't know what to think."

      "Examine your feelings for several minutes, my Son and tell me what you think."

      "I am still a Catholic, Father Kissinger and in fact, am even more a Catholic than before." His enthusanism rang in his voice.

      "Ooops," Father Kissinger blurted out, "that was hearing confession!"

      "Don't worry about this, young lady, we're Naval Officers and we've all heard confessions before. We just called it counseling." There was a tone of absolute convection in FADM Checkof's voice. FADM Uhura spoke:

      "I suppose we should discuss our ulterior motives for coming here? General Wand commands a Fleet Refueling Vessel. He is looking for a Commanding Officer to relieve him so that he can quote go back into retirement and simply putter around as a First Officer unquote. The Good General is looking for a young Medical Doctor to quote terrorize my staff properly unquote and a young brige officer that quote I can raise to be a proper ship driver unquote."

      "Checkof nodded; his wife Uhura continued:

      "General Wand said he was looking for an enthusiastic young warrior, someone like that Paval Checkof was."

      She smilled at her husband, who looked stunned.

      The following luncheon was a very pleasant one and Eric and Emmily walked off holding hands, the two Fleet Admirals walked off arm in arm and the two Catholics engaged in Brother to Father conversation (confession and consuling actually).

     

      Towards the end of the eight month "refresher training period", Eric was running a trio of very cocky young midshipmen through a portion of damage control training called 'Wet Navy". He had already run crusty old senionr officers and Chiefs through this training and the expected results had occurred:* They didn't disucess the training with "virgins" and* They loved to see "virgins" go through the training.

     

      It was a simple enough drill. A group of four trainees were in a corridore sized space and had to patch over a large hole in a leeking pipe. There was a viewing gallery on the same level as the exercise room and this quickly filled with those who had been "trained". Eric and two guests were in the balcony level; Eric had two guests and he had an arm around each. To his left was Emmily and to his right was FAHM Uhura. A later "photo" showed that both women looked amused and Eric had a beatific smile.

      He had a fine training drill going on and a fine woman at each side and his arms around both. He had plenty to be vey pleased about and his sister would put that photo up in her room along with the "photo" of Eric inside the reactor...

      In the training room, the trainees heard a loud noise. To their surprise, a hold blew out from a large pipe. They knew what to do!

      One ran to the valve and began spinning it to shut off the water flow. The other two wrapped a blanket around the pipe near the hole tightened it down somewhat with a rope coiled around the pipe and blanket and began sliding the whole mess tosards the pipe. They couldn't get the contraption through the water flow, which mysteriously had increased in pressure and seemed to be getting colder.

      In desparation, one of the two ran back and relieved the valve man and said valve man ran back to the leeking pipe's hole. He slipped and fell in the water, which was waist high by now. He wasn't hurt. Finnally, when the three students were treading water and wondering if it would be easier when the water level was above the hole did Eric's assistant shut off the water flow and open valves that quickly "dewatered" the compartment. The three students were asked:

      "Well, how did it go?"

      "Badly, sir," the less cocky leader of the 3 person exercise said, "the damned valve didin't seem to conrol the water flow and it seemed to get harder the longer we tried!"

      "The point of the exercise is that sometimes you can do everything correctly and still fail. It's not your fault; the deck was stacked against you! The valve is stripped and can not shut off the water flow. Another water value, controlled by the exercise staff, was used to increase the water pressure. Well, you three have passed and we need to get the room set for the next group of trainees. Now, it is traditional for those who've been through this exercise to view the next set of trainees with previous graduates. Would you like to do so?"

      The leader looked at her fellows and said "Yes, Sir!"

      "Then get changed and we'll have some one guide you to our viewing room."

      While the students were drying and dressing, high voumn air blowers forced hot dry air nito the room and it quickly dried. Then, cool air was blown into the rooom, to bring it to the slightly chilly temperature the drll "required". After that, the relatively cold water would do the trick of cooling off the students.

      The students entered and found themselves among the sernior officers of the Academny and Star Fleet Headquaters and a large number of the instructors and many of their fellow Fourth Year students ("Senior" to civilians). A Vice Admiral passed a tray with flutted chamgaing glasses on it to them. They drank to the student's efforts. Then, they were handed large glasses of a local lager and settled down to watch the next set of students...

      THose who "completed" the drill at the end of the training day were always excused from afternoon classes the next day to attend and observe. No matter how much they were pestered would the graduates reveal what really happened in "The Wet Navy Drill".

     

      Shortly before the eight months of refresher training was up, Eric was summonned to a meeting with Dr. Kissinger, SJ, Vice Admiral Michael Thomas Etro, the Head of Star Fleet assignments and an elderly Klongon. The Klingon smilled when he saw Eric and said:

      "It is good to see you again, young man."

      "I don't recall ever meeting you, sir." This was a clear sign that Eric's memory was still fuddled.

      "Ah, it has been a while but you'll thihk of it. I understand you did a lovely thesis on tetrions?"

      "Thank you, sir."

      "It had some very interesting conclusions. I've heard that you left details out?"

      "Well, sir, you know editors and major professors will remove material they don't think 'moves the story forward'."

      "He will do nicely!" The General was quite pleased with Eric's non-commital answers.

      "Lieutenant Commander Bellingham, we are going to put you in command of Fleet Fueling Vessel 97, once known as the "GLENDA JANE".

      Eric abruptly remembered the incident when the TAMERLANE had nearly been destoryed during a refueling from the "GLENDA JANE" and he remembered who had commanded her,

      "You coud have killed us all!"

      "Not at all, Mr. Bellingham, not at all. Our sensors were quite capable of telling that your main feed line would have failed quickly enough to force the fuel load to one or more of the other fuel feed systms. We could also tell those three feed systems were out of service; it was quite pleased to see how quickly you had your people bring them back into service."

      Eric nodded.

      Vice Admiral Etro spolke next: "This is General Wand, of the House of Wand and he commands FFV96 when he doesn't have a regular commander. We have deciced to put you in command of this craft."

      "Why me, Vice Admiral? Why put me in command of a fairly sensitive position?"

      "Because General Wand is also Doctor Wand and this tour duty is to bring you back where you belong: in commnand of a ship. It is also to continue your medical treatement. Will you accept?"

      Eric thought of his nightmares, both mental and physical and replied: "Will this be my salvation?"

      "That is up to you, Eric," Dr. Wand was uncommonly serious for him.

      "Then, I'll take the assignment but I can't go back as a 'Lieutenant Commander' and somehow the tite of 'Captain' seems oppressive."

      "That is something I can handle, Eric," Vice Admiral Etro replied, "you can go back as a 'Chief Warrant Officer' with the title of 'Craft Master'. You'd still have to operate your craft in full complience with interstellar law and treaty, Star Fleet regulations and practices and in accordance to the situation as it unfolds. Is this acceptable?"

      "Let me think on it for a minute, please and to get some advise."

      Eric called his parents and explained the situation. General Dr. Wand had already briefed Eric's parents and they told him "it sounds like a very good opportunity for you."

      Next Eric called Emmily and asked for her advise.

      "Eric, didn't they tell you that I've been selected to serve as that boat's Medical Doctor? I'd love to have you there with me!"

      "I'll tell them yes" and after some more conversation, he went back to the waiting senior officers.

      While he had been gone, the Vice Admiral asked "who do you think he called first, his girlfriend or his parents?"

      "The parents and then his beloved," the General said, "he is rather Klingon you know, especially in how he reacts to horrible stress."

      "I will be honored to accept this assignment. I understand that LT LaFere is going aboard as a medical officer in spite of her having gone through eight months of operations training?" Eric sounded pissed off.

      "LT LaFere will be getting as much ship handling experience and training as she could ever want on FFV 97. She had to go aboard as a Medical Doctor or she would be the senior line officer and that would lead to command problems. So, we arrange the paperwork such. Oh, who did you call, if you don't mine me asking?" The Vice Admiral was quite curius.

      "I called my parents and then I called Emmily." Eric looked puzzled that anyone would possibly doubt his choice. Dr. Wand looked pleased...

     

      The graduation ceremony was quite nice. Eric was declared to be medically retired and that he had been retained on active duty and would be serving on a Fleet Fueling Vessel. Emmily graduated from the Advanced Command Track course and it was announced she would be serving on a Fleet Fueling Vessel both as Medical Doctor and Second Officer under instruction. Their Vulcan Soran would be serving as Third Officer under instruction. There were a number of other greaduates but these were the only ones who mattered to Eric's family...

     

      Eric had been told that he would have to name the ship himself and he hadn't decided what to name it. Eric and his group were put aboard a fast courier and were taken to his new home, FFV 97. Upon arrival, he went for a tour of his "new" boat. It was quite different from what he'd expected.

      He had thought FFV 97 would be a large cargo ship with the minimum engines required for the tasks, barely enough weapons to rate being called "armed" and the minimum shields freighters sported. He was quite wrong!

      FFV 97 had vast storage areas filled with an unbelievable assortment of anti-matter. There were storage tanks for anti-hydrogen, anti-deuterium, anti-oxygen, anti-silicon and even anti-iron. Eric had never heard of anyone using anti-oxygen, anti-silicon or anti-iron.

      He was told rather dryly "we service more than just the Federation or Klingon ships."

      Engineer was a long structure that basically was a spear. This "spear" was a single structure comprised of the anti-matter (warp) reactor, the impulse reactor, warp engines larger than even on a Galaxy class starship and impulse engines suitable for a starbase. This ship could create anti-matter if necessary and could auto-repair at a incredible rate. The FFV 97 could sprint at warp 9.9 for hours, could run at warp 9.8 for several days ("72 hours", his new chief engineer sniffed) and cruise for months at warp 9. This was a performance he'd have expected only from a high speed courier boat.

      This engine complex looked like something out of Naval history and even had canvus "racks" attacked to the sides of the "engine complex", There were two heads and at one end and ermergency lockers on the bulkheads the engine complex was inside. Eric was told "if we're attcked and can't escape, we can dump the rest of the ship and leave at warp 9.9, We have the best cloak the {Romulan} Star Empire and the Federation and Section 31 can proivide." Eric would later learn who "Section 31" was when he had to refuel a Section 31 vessel.

      He and his fellows had met FFV 97 near the planet Xena, a solar planet so far out that it was nearly a free planet. At this distance, the sun was just another star. Still, the amount of construction around Xena was most impressive. There were emergency shipyards (orbital), a number of shps with silent IFF (which meant they couldn't be identified) and what appeared to be a late model Romulan Warbird. Eric used the highest magnification on his bridge to see the Star Fleet insignia and the numbers "31" on this Romulan Warbird.

      He asked: "Do we resupply Romulans and why is there a Romulean Warbird with Federation markings? Why does it have a "31" on the side? That is not the normal position for a ship's hull number."

      "We resupply Romuleans and a number of other space going species just as they resupply us. The Romulan Warbird belongs to the Federation's version of the Obsedian Order or Tau Shier and is an agency that operatres outside Federation Territority. This is all highly classified and you're not allowed to ever mention this information."

      "Do the Romulans know about this Section 31?"

      "Yes, Warrant Bellingham, just as do the Klingons, Cardassians, Gorn, Breen and a number of other species. They know because the Federation told them. None of these Star Nations would have taken the United Federation of Nations seriously if we didn't have a covert operations spy agency to counter their covert operations spy agencies. Besides, we've had it since the first unifed Earth Government was formed."

      "The first," Eric asked his new third officer.

      "Well, sir, the first that lasted more than a couple of weeks."

      Space was alive with lights from anti-matter creation facilities and these lights were a great distances from each other. Eric had lerned that no species which had survived an accidental explosion in an anti-matter creation plant ever put them near inhabitated planets again. He was about to learn why from the production standpoint.

     

      Eric and everyone from the FFV97 was in the reception room of the anti-matter production facility. Their host, the manager of the facility, welcomed them. The room was quite large, had windows on all surrounding walls and little else.

      "Now, I know most of you have heard this lecture before but it never hurts to repeat. How do we get the anti-matter? Do we go prospecting for it in deep space? No, there simply isn't very much left 'in the wild'. Do we use particle accelerators to create it? No, the cost in energy makes that idea horrible inefficient. Do we use transporters or replicators? Actually, we could if it weren't so dangerous. Yes, we could but we don't have to. What we do is take advantage of a loop hole in quantum physics."

      He paused for questions, there were none.

      "We have discovered dwhich sub-atomic forces make matter matter and anti-matter anti. We can create fields in a volume of matter that converts the whole mass to anti-matter at once. What would this be inportant?"

      "Partial conversion would leave matter mixed with anti-matter and that would lead to an explosion. Sir." The rspondent was one of Eric's long service Chief Petty Officers, a Chief who had been on FFV 97 for many years.

      "Quite correct, Chief! Can any of you tell me why this facility is highly regulated and why we have members of the Intra Galactic Anti-matter commission watching everything we do? (The IGAMC unified the Federation, the Klingons, the Breen, the Romulans and a number of other space going races in that they all hated those high handed IGAMC bastards and their overbearing ways.)

      The facility manager grinned happily and waited for an answer that didn't come.

      "It's really very simple. The anti-matter creation beams can be swept rapidly across a planet and convert great swaths of said planet into anti-matter. Do you think this might have an effect on a planet?"

      There was a shocked silence that was reflected in the body language of even those who'd heard this introction before.

      "We're highly regulated becuase just one conversion device, the size of a Federaton Runabout, could physically 'blow up' a planet. This is generlly regarded as a 'bad thing'."

     

      Finally, even this fascinating tour ended and the group returned to FFV 97. There, on the bridge, General Wold and Chief Warrent Officer Eric Randall Bellingham (LCDR Medically Retired) when through the ceremony that General Wold had gone trought so many times.

      "Sir, I stand ready to releive you."

      "Sir, I stand ready to be relieved."

      "Sir, I relieve you."

      "Sir, I stand relieved."

      Eric then read his orders from a hand written scroll:

      "Chief Warrant Officer Eric Randall Bellingham, you will take command of the Federation Fueling Vessle 9 7 and operate it in a safe manner in accordance with all relevant Interstellar teaties and agreements, the Federation dictates for save Interstellar flight and the particular requirements of those you are providing fuel to. You will begin a series of three month voyages. For two months, you will take fuel from the Xena facility or the "Extruded Lamb facility' (operated by a very strange alien species and no one knew what they meant by 'Extruded Lamb') and refuel anyone requiring fuel. Then, you will spend one month on the planet Marian II'. Your sister ship, Fleet Fueling Vessel 193 will serve in your Area of Operations for you. Your final order is to give your ship, Fleet Fueling Vessle 9 7 her current name. We look forward to learning ths name. Make it a good one."

      The irony was that when Wold was "relieved", he was never "relieved" for he then had another "Commander" to nurse back to health. When he relieved his most recent "Commander", he went back to being Commander of FFV 97 (whatever it may have been called by the most recent commander). In a sense, Wold had been in command of the Good Ship FFV 97 ever since he'd proposed the idea to Star Fleet Medical some 21 years before...

     

      First Officer and Commanding Officer had done a very quick inventory and everything had been there. This was due to a crewman who had the compulsion to track everything used on the boat. He knew where everything was and what was used and didn't mind shipmates hiding stuff from him. He thought it was funny and that was his saving grace.

      Fully loaded and with little fanfare, the FFV97 left "port"; her first destination was a Bolian freighter a light week out. This freighter had taken on a cargo of manufactured goods from Mars and was hauling them to one of the colonies of Sirius (which were under domes on an otherwise wretched world). The FFV pulled alongside and Eric simple sat on his bridge, watching as his highly experienced crew conducted the refueling with bored expertiese. He did learn something:

      ~The FFV97 had sensors he had never seen before and could look into the status of systems on other ships better than any he had ever seen. His crew literally knew more about the other ship that their crew did.

      "How are we looking today?"

      "You look just fine; it looks like you got the anti-matter flow regulator changed and your impulse engines appear to be very nicely balanced. Our congratulations to your maintenance staff." Eric's third officer was speaking for the ship and he had the Bolian's preferred terminology down nicely.

      "FFV97, from your lack of a name, I assume you have a new commanding officer?"

      "Yes, you may, he is Chief Warrant Officer Eric Randall Bellingham. May I introduce you?" There was a brief pause. "Captaain Bellinham, may I introduce you to 'Snake Laughing', the Commander of Bolian heavy cargo hauler 197? 'Laughing Snake", may I introduce you to my Woe, Captain Bellingham?"

      "'My Woe'", Eric asked?

      "Think nothing of it Good Warrant," Snake Laughing said, "my 'Woe' is a play on words. 'Woe' is short for 'WO' or Warrant Officer' and as his Superior, you are supposed to cause him 'Woe'. I like 'Little Turd's' sense of humour!"

      "'Little Turd' my ass~"

      "'Little Turd' from your 'little ass' and that would make you a self made man? Now there is a stange concept." Eric would never be able to explain what caused him to say this. There was a pause and the Bolian spoke:

      "A philosopher, I see. Well, you've come to place for such things. Good bye then and God Speed to all of you go on all your appointed rounds and all that shit, ah, stuff, ah, whatever you're supposed to say at a time like this!"

      The Bolian roared and comms was cut and everyone looked at Eric who somewhat sheepishly said: "That seemed to go well."

      "'A Philosopher King'", Wold murmurree, "we'll have to rename you in honour of Nezahualcoyotl or 'Starving Coyote'. Well, what does everybody think?"

      "'Starving Coyote'?"

      "He was an early Earth 'Philosopher King'. Our Eric had been discovered to be a 'Philosopher' and a Ship's Captain is, to quote your Robert Heiinlein, 'the last of the Absolute Monarchs'. Thus, our 'Woe' is a 'Philospher King'. Does anyone disagree?"

      The laugher didn't really start until Eric began to laugh; he thought it all quite amusing. (It was only his thinness that saved him from then being called 'the Laughing Budda'', which would have been premature.)

      Two days later, a routine precedence message from FFV 97 was received on ENTERPRISE. LCDR Data turned to Captain Picard and said:

      "Sir, it would seem that Captain Bellingham has selected a name for FFV 97."

      "Well, don't keep us waiting," LCDR LaForge prodded.

      "Fleet Fueling Vessel 97 is now 'the Coyote King'. The text stated that the initially proposee name of 'Starving Coyote King' was undignified and therefore unacceptable. However and this was signed by First Officer Wold, if anyone wanted to address the ship as 'Starving Coyote' or 'Starving Coyote King' then it would be prefectly acceptable with and I quote our Philosopher King unquote."

      "Thee is a story here and I'd like to learn what it is", Consoler Troi murmurred.

      Jean-Luc Piccard sighed and spoke. "Computer, send a messagae to my brother asking him for a case of Champaign and two cases of the vinyard's best. Tell him that I'm going to be hosting a visit with the officers of a Federation Starship 'The Coyote King'."

      "MESSAGE SENT~"

      ENTERPRISE being ENTERPRISE, they could use the high speed subspace comms circuits. Whatever ENTERPRISE went encrypted to the various relays and went through ahead of nearly every other form of communications. It took an hour but the reply from Robert Piccard came back the same way.

      "That sounds interesting and I want to hear the full story. Oh, I contacted your Star Fleet and said I had a package for the ENTERPRISE's Commander. They are going to send the wine on one of your 'high speed diplomatic courier boats'. Seems a bit excessive to me but I got the felling this boy likes to fly fast. Well, I hope your party enjoys the wine. Piccard out."

      Back on the "Coyote King", First Officer Wond suggested that Eric had been awake too long and that he go to bed. Eric did so. When the sensors showed Eric asleep, General Wond awoke the sleepers and made a short shipwide speech.

      "Eric Randall Bellingham is recovering from wounds received at the Battle of Wolf 359. He is a fine commanding officer who should be called by his proper rank of 'Lieutenant Commander'. The problem is he is easing back into command slowly. He must be called 'Warrent Officer' or 'Chief Warrant Officer' or 'Chief' until he has recovered. You must all remember, he is still a Lieutenant Commander and still CAPTAIN of this ship. Bridge out."

      Eric appeared to settle down fairly well. However, about three weeks into their 'tour of duty', he began using herion again. This lead to constitupation and his bodie's attempt to deal with it.

      Eric entered the wardroom feeling wretched. He didn't notice the air filter system fans were running at emergency overload or the air perfume that made him feel ill.

      "So, sir, what will it be this lunch?" The steward was leaning away from Eric and that was well as Eric felt a fart slide from his ass.

      "I'll have something mild and gentle."

      "Perhaps something with less fiber than, Sir, something easily digested?"

      "What do you mean by that" and was interupted by a bowell emptying gasious emission; it was a fart a Klingon could be proud of!

      Eric's chief Engineer tapped a button on his padd and the transporters removed all known "fart gases" from the Wardroom and added "nice smells". The nice smell were very, very nice.

      "I'll bring a nice steak and rice pilof,sir."

      When a bridge runner came in and asked Eric to initial a padd, Eric had to turn away from the table and didn't see one of his officers put a "flatuance control pill" into his roll. Eric didn't know the Wardroom Steward put a similiar pill into Eric's pilof and Eric had never heard the Prune Juice his Second Officer gave him was good for 'making you regular'.

      After lunch, Eric made it to the Thomas Crapper barely in time!

      After about a week and a half, Eric abruptly quit using the herion, administered the anti-dote (and was given some serious drug therapy by Emmily's "nurse" after Eric went to sleep) and thought he was going to 'rip himeself a new asshole' the first time he tried 'voinging his bowells'. It was an effective disuaging technique; Eric didn't touch the "good stuff" the rest of that two month voyage.

      The "Coyote King" refueled fourteen ships, including a Romulan. This was odd because the Romulans used captive mini-black holes for their power supple. It turned out the Romulans used anti-matter in their main "APU" or "Auxiallary Power Unit".

      The planet "Marian II" was the Second Planet of the Star "Francis". The inhabitants simply smilled when asked why the planet was "Francis II".

      The highlight of the visit was meeting General Wond's eight year old great-granddaughter B'linna. She was a precouious child who knew the world revolved about her. She immediately fell in love with Eric and Emmily and 'her Brother the Vulcan' and several others and they with her.

      During the month long standdown, Eric engaged in conversations, little realized they often were therapy and worked with his remaining Graduate Student (who had stuck with Eric) and went for walks with Emmily and B'linna. It was during one such walk that Eric found relief from some of his pain.

      B'linna and her three younger brothers and sister were walking through a corridore into a plaza. As usual, B'linna was talking and just being the very cute and domineering little girl she was.

      "What are we supposed to call you, Mr. Ship Captain?"

      "Your great grandfather calls me whatever he feels like."

      "Shall I call you 'Whatever He Feels Like' then?"

      "That wold be a bit ackward, B'linna."

      Three Norsikans, whose ulginess would make a Terran Wart Hog look handsom, were hanging out and just being obnoxious. Seeing a little Klingon girl leading a Human made them think it would be fun to give them some shit.

      "Human, is this your bastard child?" One Norsikan shouted.

      "She is really his bastard sister and his future wife!"

      The Norsikans thought this was very funny; Eric did not. He had the very strong image of the dead Klingon child he had rescued years before and was becoming furious.

      "I know! I know! We can rape both of them and save the three little morsels for later. Call the ship and prepare to beam us all up!"

      "Harm my children and you will ALL DIE!"

      Eric had never known the pure fury he now felt. It was a wonderful, glorious emotion and he actually felt calm He didn't look calm, he looked amused and furious and he suddenly did not look harmless. Then, there was the knife (his special K-bar) that had magically appeared in his hand.

      The loud mouthed leader of the Norsikan group moved towards Eric and Eric swung his blade and easily cut through the would be rapist's armour and left him staggering and bleeding. Eric lunged forward and took a second Norsikan in his left bicept and that was when the third Norsikan screamed into his comms unit to "beam us up now"! They were beamed up.

      Anywhere Norsikans went on this colony was automatically put under surviellance and a combined group of Star Fleet Security and Klingon Military Police were already beaming in when the fight occurred.

      The Klingon leader commented "well done, human, that was a very Klingon thing you just did and I am proud of you!"

      The Vulcan who commanded the Star Fleet police said "If I were capable of emotion, I would also be proud of you. You did quite well and I am most satsified." That was a Vulcan way of saying "I'm proud of you."

      The Klingon girl beamed at Eric and one of the human Security troops wiped the blood off the blade. This would be used as evidence should Star Fleet ever catch the Norsikan who'd attacked Eric and threatened the children. The Norsikan had beamed to a Norsikan ship which had embassey status and which had already gone to warp.  Those on the planet did not know that this retreat was seen as colardise and that all three of the Norsikans were spaced...alive...for their lack of proper courage.

      B'linna's parents, grandparents and great-grandparents (Wond and his wife) arrived and viewed the surveillance records. There was one question that everyone wanted to know:

      "Why did you attack those Norsikans?"

      "I believed them. I wan't about to let these children be hurt by anyone and I was willing to do whatever it took to protect them! I'm still willing to protect them. It's a personal thing for me and exactly the same thing all of you would do!"

      If Eric had simply talked about the girl who'd died in his arms then he'd have been saved much pain. But he couldn't...

      "We're very proud!" B'linna's Mother hugged him. "We need a Klingon name for you now!"

      "I know. I know! I'll call him Grandfather Targ!" shouted B'linna. From that day on, she and her siblings called Eric "Grangfather Targ". The adults called him "Eric" or "Brother Eric".

      Among the precominately Kliongon population, Eric and Emmily could walk around hand in hand and no one cared. In fact, B'linna began calling her Grandmother Targ...

      The month that Eric thought would never end, did end and he had to leave. It would never occurr to him that a mixed Klingon, Human and Vulcan population could not only get along well but could live in harmony. It was a revelation to him.

     

      The "Coyote King" departed without incident.

     

      The "Coyote King" made the run back to Xena and refueled four Star Fleet vessels on the way; they picked up a full load of various fuels from boats which had come alongside port, starboard. aft and from below the ship's belly. These were completely routine and Eric's Second Officer Under Instruction (Emmily) had no trouble with these evolutions. Eric attended one such session:

      "The most important thing is that ships receiving fuel are very much amateurs at this delicate art for they receive fuel very seldom. We dispense fuel often and have to adjust to our customers. Captains love to control everything and those with the least experience try to control the most. So, our best option is to have the customer hold a steady course and speed and then we come along side and dispense fuel."

      Eric considered what his Second Officer had just said.

      "Wouldn't it be better to have the 'customer' drop out of warp, go ballastic (he meant unaccelerated flight) and we can refuel that way?"

      "No, My Captain, it is not! OUr 'customers' tend to feel helpless if they are 'dead in space'. It's a strange attitude; they can be 'dead in space' or underweight on impulse and still be at the same velocity. It is a control matter, I think."

      "What other things do we need to do?" Emmily asked. "It seems obvious that we should ask the 'customer' which side to approached them from, which side to dispense fuel from and where and how they want it."

      "True and that is why you need hignly experienced old refueling experts. We know just what the preferences are. For example, Jean-Luc Piccard likes to 'receive fuel' from his starboard side. When he was in command, William T. Riker liked to receive fuel from below his engineering section. Colonel Kira, of the Bajorian Milletia, likes to refuel from astern when she commands the 'Defiant'. Captain Sisco takes fuel from any approach so long as it can be done safely."

      Emmily excused herself saying "you only rent Star Fleet coffee and it's return time!"

      After she had left training room two, the Second Officer looked at Eric and said "Colonel Kira likes to 'refuel from astern'. Hummm, I'd like to 'refuel her astern'! Have you noticed she has a very nice stern? I have." Then seeing the door begin to open, Second changed the subject to: "Captains always think they know the best ways of fueling and don't realize that simplicity of fueling is often inconsistant with proper layout of ship's equipment and in safe operation. It's a real mess but ship operators have the attitude that refueling only happens occasionally and if they can just survive today's refueling then maybe the next refueling will be someone else's problem!" The Klingon roared with laughter.

      Emmily had seated herself and Second said: "I think I need to return some used coffee and that ghastly Prune Juice Grandfather the General made us drink this morning!"

      He left and Emmily gave Eric a wry look.

      "So, what did you boys talk about?"

      "He mentioned the 'fueling preferences' of some of 'our customers'. He seems quite fond of mentioning a 'Colonel Kira' for some reason."

      "That would the First Officer of Deep Space Nine. He's told me how he'd like to 'fuel her from behind'. It seems our beloved Second Officer has a fondness for 'doing it Targ Style', which I gather is bascially the same as the Human 'Doggie Style'. She banged him on DP9 about a year ago. It seems she pinned him against a buldhead and said"

      "So, Klingon, you think you're man enough for me?"

      He replied: "You may be too much woman for me but let's find out!"

      She then climbed him like a tree and said "why are we still wearing clothing?"

      Second then said something in Klingon, got a reply back in what sounded like Italian and a transporter was activated. When they re-materialized, they were in Kira's quarters, both nude. He was leaing against a bulkhead, she still wrapped around him and their clothing was scattered on the deck behind them. Accoring to Second Officer:

      "We never tried it 'Targ Style', we did it 'Human Style'! Maybe somebody should tell the old fart that 'Missioniary Style' is done lying down and now braced against a bulkhead."

      "Perhaps someone should, my dear and (speaking as the door opened) lets pretend we were talking business."

      The Klingon merely smilled at them; he had been a counsolor too long to have overlooked the possibilities of monitoring conversations between patients when he'd left the room.

      They talked business for a while and Eric left. Then, after another 20 miinutes or so, Second got down to the real business.

      "When do you think our Captain Eric will finally tell us what is tormenting him."

      "I don't think he can, not yet."

      "Why aren't you two lovers?"

      "Well...I want him to be mentally whole. I want the Eric I fell in love with back to me again. I don't think I could do something physical with him now..."

      "Perhaps we should talk about your feelings about life?"

      They talked for quite a while before Second said:

      "Oh, in case you're wondering, Kira and I did have sexual intercourse 'Targ Style'; she was verious vigorous and seemed to enjoy the experience. After that, she refused to try it again and called it by some Bajorian words I'd never heard before. I asked several Bajorians what these words meant and they all blushed and said 'those are horrible words'. I went to a Vedic who said 'he couldn't talk about it'. Well, I did some comparative analysis and the words were Cardassian and one word meant 'Cardassian', another meant 'incest' and a third meant 'instruction'. This all sounded very strange..."

      Then it was time for lunch.

     

     

      Many civilians and even Star Fleet personnel who never served on ships was the question: what do you do for entertainment? Well the answer was quite a few things:

                  

                   * There was socializing,

                   * There was reading,

                   * There was hobbies,

                   * There were sports of all sorts,

                   * There was working out,

                   * There were martial arts and

                   * There was watching old movies...

     

      One of the answers that was never given was "watching television". "Television" had become obsolute in the mid 21st century, so the concept of half hour shows, with rigid formulatic requirements was alien to the "modern sensibilities" of the 24th century. Sure, these rigid formats didn't prevent many different plot ideas from happening. It was like a classic sonnet: rigid form and yet complete freedom in ideas.

      There was a “modern form” of Television called:

^[1]

 

blockquote

The Flatulence Of The Targs!

 

               The episode opened with the mightily Targ space craft, a vessel that looked like a Targ standing up, flying through space with an incredibly long flame, from a reaction drive behind it. The rocket exhaust had to have gone through a massive amount of fuel.

               In the ship, large Targs walked around on their hind feet and reminded the viewers of Klingons. The ship was controlled by huge levers and control wheels and was full of flashing lights. The "Fighting Targs" were looking for stolen vats of "Nemesis Liquid", the Holy "Water" that was the Nemesis of excessive sobriety and which allowed the mighty "Fighting Targs" to get as drunk as a "Mind Frecking Romulan" or at least as the proverbial "Drunken Irish-person".

               The Might Vessel, called the "Wretched Excess" was closing in on the villains. The majority of the "Fighting Targs" transported over to the Enemy Vessel. There, they found the villains: huge snakes with arms and legs that folded out of recesses in their hideous snake bodies. The fiends turned to face the "Fighting Targs" and large pointy ears slide out; they looked remarkably like Romulans! (The end of long and bitter diplomatic alliances can be like a bad divorce: there is misrepresentation of one's lost partner!)

               The "Fighting Targs" attacked with their dreaded fangs and hideous claws and bad puns. (This part of the episode reminded a televison history fanatic of something called the "Ninja Turtles".) But, the "Fighting Targs" were overcome by the snake fiends and their sprayed venom. Our Heroes fell in twitching heaps. On the "Wretched Excess", "scientists" examined the events through bizarre "scientific instruments".

               It looked bad for the "Fighting Targs" as the snake bastards appeared to be Bolo Constrictors.

               The scene cut to an interior view of the "Wretched Excess", which had somehow avoided being captured when the majority of it's crew had beamed over to the Snake Vessel.

               Then, the point of view pulled back to see the "Wretched Excess" doing what would have been called a "wing over" had the "Wretched Excess" been a 20th century atmospheric craft and not an un-aerodynamic 24th century space craft that looked like a quadruped flying through space. The scene then changed to a safety lecture that lasted about 3 minutes. This was long enough for the viewers to "hit the head", get snacks from the replications and to steal someone else's seat...

               Then, the show resumed!

               The "Fighting Targs" decided upon an insane search pattern and after a crew member accidentally hit a course change lever, found the enemy vessel. There was an apparent "tender moment" in which something (hopefully heterosexxy Eric thought) may have happened. However, with the "Fighting Targs" it didn't seem to matter what happened to whom as long as the Targs "got off"...

               Then, the "Fighting Targs" beamed over to the Enemy Vessel in their Space Suits, with the visors up and some how they weren't knocked out this time by the snake's poison. (Their "scientists" had somehow come up with a cure.)

               There was a large amount of snake/Targ fighting with snake fangs mostly sliding off the Targ Suits and Targ fangs ripping (sometimes) into the Snake Flesh. Finally, the Targs realized that to save their fellows, the Targs would have to use their Ultimate Weapon. The Generalmisseo Targ-the-Greater roared "Let loose the Farts of War!"

               All the "Fighting Targs" then turned to a fellow "Fighting Targ", presented a hoof and roared "Pull my hoof!"

               Hoofs were pulled, Targs farted very loudly, the villain snakes fell in heaps (some melting) and the "Fighting Targs" prepared to leave. In a signature gesture, one of the regulars, a kindly old Targ, one who was the butt of jokes because of his "gentle good nature" managed to urinate upon a snake and the snake awoke only to die in convulsions, it's snake body whipping around and melting, dissolving, where the urine had painted it. (Eric wonder what good a space suit could be if the wearer could urinate through it...)

               The episode ended with the fixed ending: The Genermisseo who commanded the "Fighting Targs" reared back, shook his fanged head towards the heavens (well the ceiling) and  roared his signature end-of-episode line:

        

          "I LOVE THE SMELL OF FARTS IN THE MORNING!!!"

 blockquote

    

      On second thought, Eric could realize why the Fleet Sailors didn't tell non-fleet folks about this series. Oddly enough, even the Romulans liked it. It made Klingons look bad and they thought the villains (who were usually pseudo-Romulans) were Vulcans...

      Eric knew the "wing over" was taken from a forgotten televison show called "Sky King" and the end line from a very old flat movie about a forgotten war on Earth...

      He smiled to see his shipmates so amused by the episode and didn't realize how much he truly enjoyed "Tales of the Fighting Targs!" (This was the subtitle.)

      He especially like the episode where little rats had been turned into Borg and the "Fighting Targs" had gored the rats, fucked them somehow through their shinny silver suits and the little rats loved the smell of Targ Farts!

      Emmily had a question: "What is that flame coming from the rear of the flying Targ space ship?"

      "That is their mighty rocket drive! Let's not speculate on how many Gs it is pulling and that it is powered by liquid methane." Eric replied.

      "But liquid methane doesn't burn," one Engineer replied, "it needs an oxidozer."

      "Well, they must be mixing it in with the fuel." Some one else commented.

      "They sure use a lot of that fuel. How can they store it?" Emmily wondered.

      "Big tanks?"

      "I figured out they are using 3 to 4 times the volume of the ship every second..."

      The producers of "The Flatulence Of The Targs!" or "Tales of the Fighting Targs!" got around such objections with bizarre techno babble or swithing to a grateious fight or to a couple of Targs apparently indulging in some form of sexual activity (sex and sexual orientation apparently irrevelant).

      "Then they must have a gateway between the Targ Refueling World and the "Wretched Excess". They simply 'gate through'the mixed fuel they need."

      No one mentioned that such gates were impossible. Apparently, only Eric and the General knew that Star Fleet had a sniper rifle based on sending a bullet through an interdimentional gate.

      Star Fleet and the Klingon Marines didn't want outsiders to learn of this...

     

      Then, there was the attraction of sex.

      Some of the bigger ships had those "new fanglied fucking Ferengi holo suites" wherein one could fantasize “safe“ sexual laiasons. Eric and his shipmates all uniformely denounced such unreal entertainments, not hearing the envy, the pure envy, in their voices...

     

      The strangest refueling was also one of the simplist.

      All they had to do was send some anti-deuterium to an alien ship, a member of the Federation known for being excessively fugal. Eric was invited to see their engine room.

      The warp reactor was extremely strange in that it was far larger than anything he'd ever seen before. It was the normal diameter for a warp reactor but extended five decks. The top two thirds appeared to be fussion reactors. The bottom third appeared to be a standard (if alien) warp reactor.

      "Explain to me what I'm seeing, please."

      "You should be seeing two fussion raactors and an anti-matter reactor." The aliens tone of voice clearely suggested that any damn fool could tell that.

      "I can see that but why put fussion reactors with an anti-matter reactor. This seems very dangerous."

      "Dangerous, yes! Necessary, yes! Has your voice become a little higher pitched, young human?"

      "Yes." Eric tapped a couple of buttons on his tricorder.

      "There is a lot of helium in here."

      "Leakage from the helium tanks, it is. Helium is hard to contain, very hard it is."

      Eric got a puzzled expression on his face.

      "You couldn't be using helium as a fuel since mixing helium with dueterium doesn't result in the destruction of equal amounts of mass."

      "The fussion reactors use deuterium." The alien suggested gently.

      It took Eric several seconds to work through the matter; the "Old Eric" would have seen the anser almost immeediately.

      "You burn anti-dueterium in the fussion reactors, producing heat and anti-helium. Then, the anti-helium is moved into the warp core reactor and your helium is mixed with your newly recrated anti-helium to produce warp power. This sounds very complicated."

      "Complicated it is but is simplier then two fussion reactors in one compartment, like your human ships and the warp reactor in another. Simplier it is!"

      After the "Coyote King" visitors left, another alien spoke.

      "Why not tell them about the four silicon fussion reactors that provide most power?"

      "What we showed them is Federation Technology and they already know about it."

      For about the first month of this second tour, Eric was fine and then the nightmares began. These were all confused images and feelings and a gentle voice softly speaking "come to me, I will end your pain". He didn't understand what this voice was and simply thought it was the herion talking. So, he began taking the herion in the evenings. It wasn't much, just enough to get relief from the memories. His shipmates could tell someting was going wrong and the covert medical scanners, which filled the ship, clearly told everyone.

      Besides, the replicator logs clearly reported the production of "3,6-diacetyl morphine (diacetylmorphine)" and Eric had the chills even though the "Coyote King" was quite warm and took to dozing off in his chair.

      "I can't seem to sleep these nights and when I do, I keep having horrible dreams. Then the voice talks to me..."

      Nobody paid any attention to "the voice talks to me"

      Eric began farting in public and took to having to be near the ship's heads. One time, he didn't get the door closed and barely made it to the head before the diarrhea started.

      "These are classic withdrawal sympthoms," Emmily stated.

      "Yes, they are and the apparent depression is another symthom. Eric was talking about the futility of life and why do we have to suffer. Our Vulcan Catholic was quite upset with Eric after trying to discuss life with him. He did seem very disturbed when Eric mentioned 'the gentle voice of the woman' and he turned very cold Vulcan on me.' General Wold was puzzled by this.

      Then, Eric took a turn for the worst. His digestive system completely shut down. He could consume food but it wouldn't make it into his stomach; there was a way around that! What food made it into his stomach got "hung up" in his intestines and he "farted like a Targ"!

      Near the end of the second month, Eric had lost weight he couldn't afford to lose and the air handling systems were working excessively to keep the ship's air breathable if not "sweet smelling".

      After a couple of days of this, General Wond assumed the duites of Captain and effectivley, medically relieved Chief Warrant Officer Eric Randall Bellingham of duty but dind't make it a formal relief. Wond also renamned the "Coyote King" the "Spent Targ".

      They came up on ENTERPRISE for a refueling.

      FRV-97, currently known as the "SPENT TARG", was standing a kilometer off the bottom ofthe ENTERPRISE's engineering section. On the "Spent Targ's" sole bridge view screen, Eric satin "his" Command Chair, the General was next to him and his second officer was at thehelm/navigation position. The lighting was arranged so the ENTERPRISE trio, Captain Picard,Commander Riker and LCDR Troy could be clearly seen but only the "SPENT TARG's" SecondOfficer could be seen.

      Eric's voice was quite rough, too much vomiting from drinking too much of something his third officer said "will put hair on your bald spot".

      "Captain Picard, we have a large amount of anti-duterieum as well as anti-iron. I've heard your Mr. LeForge has been experimenting with using anti-iron in your warp reactor?"

      "How did you know that, Captain Bellingham?"

      "The experimentation creates a wide assortment of unusual and short lived particles, sir. We've been monitoring this. Bill! Tell your chief alchemist to be very carefull with that experimentation. There are certain failure modes which can lead to anti-matter containment loss in the feed lines to your warp core. This would destroy your ENTERPRISE before any of you could say the prayer: 'FATHER FORGIVE US FOR WE HAVE FUCKED UP!'"

      "Eric, it seems you've added blaspemy to your style of jokes." William Ricker was quite upset.

      Eric leaned forward and the bridge crew could see how wasted he looked.

      "It wasn't blaspemy my friend, it was simple realization of reality."

      The sound from the ENTERPRISE cut off. Eric tapped his "microphone off" button and glanced at his First Officer.

      "It would seem I've aggitated them a bit, Old Grandfather."

      "Yes, it would, Young Grandfather."

      Eric activated his microphone again and shortly after, Captain Piccard spoke again.

      "Mr. Bellingham, perhaps you should work with my Chief Engineer with the refueling and advise him on the dangers of using anti-iron." Then, as if it were an afterthought. "Oh, my First would like to speak with your First about a subject of mutual concern."

      Piccard then did something very strange for him: he turned and pointed at Worf, clearly indicating the Firsts were going to talk about Worf (and not about one Eric Randall Bellingham).

      "Very well, Sir, if you can connect me with your Engineer, we can begin..."

     

      The General left his bridge and entered the small alcove and shut the door behind him. He stood behind the desk and spoke: "Ship, open a secure line to ENTERPRISE and ask for their First Officer, William Thomas Riker."

      Riker appeared on the screen immediately.

      "William, son of Kyle, of the House of Piccard, how may I be of service to you?"

      "Wand, son of Modoc, of the House of Modoc, it is good to see you again, Sir."

      "You were one of my best students at the Academy when I taught emergency medicine in the survival course. We are quite pleased to see how well you've done; I've bragged about my fine student, William son of Kyle, so many times my great-granddaughter is calling you 'Uncle Bill' and would like to meet you. But I don't think you wished to speak with me about my ,great-granddaughter's Hero Worship of you or of Worf son of Maag of the House of Maag."

      "No, sir, I didn't. Tell us about Eric. He looks like crap. Your 'Doctor Emmily' has talked with 'Dr. Beverly' about him, your Second Officer has talked with Dr. Troi and Dr. S'ook and they're all worried. Funny thing about your Second. Troi says he speaks perfect Betazoid and S'ook says he speaks High Vulcan with the accents of a Temple High Master."

      "My Second is one of the finest linguists in the Empire and he learned High Vulcan when hestudied religion on Vulcan; oddly enough, he became more emotional after that experience. But,you're worried about our Eric. So are we, my young friend, so are we. If we could just get him tosay what it truly bothering him, we might be able to break him out of his destructive cycle. This'hair oh win' habit of his is very destructive. It seems to give him relief and yet the withdrawal sympthoms are dreadful! Did you know it makes him constitipated? The medications we givehim make him fart like a Klingon but he smells like a 'Farting Targ' and this is simply horrible!Have you noticed how ghastly he looks? We've tried to get him to eat but he says he's got noappatite. So, we've resorted to a desparate measure..."

     

      After the "SPENT TARG" had departed on her 'endless patrol', Riker asked Piccard and Troi tojoin him in the Captain's Ready Room. Data took the center seat.

      "General Wand is quite worried about Eric. He won't say what is really bothering him, it seemsthere was one moment on TAMERLANE that has torn him up. Speaking of 'torn up', they say hefarts like a Targ and that has really offended his shipmates."

      Dr. Crusher had already been in the Ready Room.

      "Why don't they change his diet?"

      "He refuses to eat much and they've been forced to a very dangerous expedient. They get him filled up on some drink and get him settle down in his chair. They need him immoblized for what iscoming up. They map the contents of his stomack and their transporter operator does a very rapid exchange of stomack contents for an equal volume of high concentration liquid food. He hasn't complaigned yet."

      His audience was stunned.

      "The General also said he seems to be cooperating with them."

     

      What no one seemed to realize what Eric still had his habit of needing to see if the Borg were sneaking up on him. So, he monitored all systems and all sensors with some esoteric computer routines. One of these checked for transporter traces around him. The first time he'd sat in his "office", put on the headset and scanned the logs, he'd been shocked to find he was being fed via transporter. It touched him deeply to know others worried about him. There was no other way he could eat, he simply couldn't bear to take solid food "the old fashioned way".

     

      Towards the end of the second month, as the "Spent Targ" was running hard for a rendezuous with a Federation deep space scout which had come back almost out of fuel, Eric spoke at lunch.

      "There is something, something I saw, that haunts me. I con't seem to recall what it is but after a while, this very gentle voice has been saying 'come to me, I'll end your pain".

      The Vulcan "Brother Soron", looked upset.

      "Does this voice seem part of a chorus?"

      "No, but there seems to be a chorus speaking in the background."

      The Vulcan blanched and began tapping on keys on his padd.

      "Bridge to Captain. Do you approve Ensign Soran contacting the ENTERPRISE on the Emergency Channel?" .

      "Yes, let it through," Eric was very puzzled but he trusted his "Brother Soran".

      After several minutes, "Brother Soran" spoke.

      "I just communicated with Dr. Crusher and Commander Data of the ENTERPRISE. I am going to do a scan of you, Mr. Bellingham." Ensign Soran then scanned Eric and pushed some buttons. A resigned voice came from the bridge "another high priority message has just been send on the Captain to Captain message channel."

      "Thank you, bridge, we will handle the matter from here."

      "Captain, please finish your lunch. We need you to go to medical."

      A crewman walked Eric to medical and he was then laid flat on his back and his head was inserted into a fixture in the wall. Several mintes later, Dr. LaFere pulled him back out and spoke with relief,

      "Eric, we've figured why you're hearing voices and why you were so constipated and why your digestive system shut down. You have some orphan Borg nanotech in your blood and some redementary Borg inplants. Data and Crusher say these are Borg communications devices; the 'Queen of the Borg' has been trying to secduce you into becoming Borg!"

      Eric was horrified but unsuprised.

      "The intestinal upset was caused by the Borg tech, which we removed."

      It took several days but Eric definitely was on the mend. He had been using the replicator in his "cabin" for drugs and ordered his chief engineer to "shut the damn thing off". This was interpreted as meaning "I don't trust myself with my replicator". That was a start Eric's people could live with.

      Two days later, Eric was on the bridge:

      "So, if we're going to refuel people, how many request our fuel and how many do we seek out?"

      "I don't understand the question", his Second Officer said.

      "We can more efficientely schedule our fueling if we plan out rendezvous ahead of time instead of waiting to be called. Are we waiting or planning out ahead?"

      "Refueling command is supposed to arrangerueling dates ahead of time, Eric."

      "Maybe we can see who is coming into our radius of opeations and maybve we can schedule fueling dates ahead of time?"

      "It could work," Second grudgingly agreed. The Second Officer had been too concentrated on his "mental health" operations to really care about the "refueling" operations.

      Eric sat at one of the bridge work stations and began running through databases. From his exasperiation at his slowness in comprehending the results, it was clear he missed being much sharper and wanted that back.

      This was seen as a very good sign!

      Eric obtained the flight plans of the ships expecting to travel through his area of operations for the next week. Then he asked each ship when they would need to refuel or willing to accept a partial refueling. There were three ships "SPENT TARG" (FFV 97) could refuel on their way to rest and relaxation.

      Eric briefed his offices and they agree to the Eric's plans. Eric ajourned the meeting and left to work out; his new workout buddy (a retired Marine) left with him. Then, the real meeting began, with Dr. Wond preciding:

      "Has our Eric began recovery?"

      "I think so," said Emmily, "but I'm not sure. He didn't talk about this voice until very recently. I think there was something bothering him before that."

      “So do I," said the Second Officer, "but we're going to have to wait for another revelation."

      Two other Medical staff agreed and Dr. Wold sighed and stated: "Then we're in agreement. Our Eric Randall Bellingham deserves another three months treatment."

      Everyone agreed and Wold used a secure communications line Star Fleet Medical.

      After several minutes of preliminary small talk, Dr. Wold got to the point:

      "Have you read the latest reports on our patient Eric Randall Bellingham?"

      "Yes, we have and are disturbed."

      "As are we. Fortunately, we believe that a revelation has happened and that Chief Warrant Bellingham is progressing in his recovery."

      "You can say this after the major binge he just survived and that business of using a transporter to feed him and another transporter to help break up his inexplicable constepation?"

      "Yes, Admiral, we can and we do. We think that another three months on on-board therapy could bring Eric permanent relief."

      Wond's belief in Eric would have been more impressive had he ever declared any patient to be beyond help; Wond liked all of his patients and had hope for all of them!

      The monitor screens went to an abstract design and several minutes later, the Admiral was back.

      "We like the reported changes in your Eric's professional behavour! These plans to schedule refuelings is a large factor in his favour. You have your three months. Is there any other business?"

      "Our Brother remains a good Catholic and is talking about wishing to speak with a Priest and take communion at the earliest."

      "I will have a Priest of the Knights Templar, who is stationed on a Deep Space Subspace Observatory near Marian II. I'll have him sent to meet you there.

      The Brother was sitting at the table while listeing to folks talk about him as if he weren't there. The Star Fleet Medical Admiral looked at Soron and spoke directly to him::

      "I know you don't like being talked like this, My Son. After this meeting, we can speak in private."

      "Yes, ma'am."

      General Wold bowed slightly towards the Admiral and said: "Dr. Kissinger, we will consider this meeting ajourned and leave you two alone."

      The rest of the "SPENT TARG"'s medical staff quietly left. Some, went on duty, some expecting night duty, simply went to their quarters."

      The three refueling went well. During this time, Eric ordered the ship's name changed to the "SILENT SCREAM". The famous picture was sent as the FFV 97's "calling card" and caused much discussion. Perhaps the old name of "SPENT TARG", with the attached cartoon of a Targ with dangling tongue like a tired dog, was more popular?

      During that last week, Eric spent time trying to rebuild his relationship with Emmily. She was working on this as well but the damage was deep and they had to talk about their mutual wounds and that meant Dr. Wold and Dr, Second Officer and three "crewmen, engineering, ordinary" were revealed to be skilled mind healers.

     

      The USS SILENT SCREAM went into parking orbit in the outer reaches of the Francis system; the ship still careid vast amounts of anti-iron and a fair amount of anti-silicon and no one in there right mind was going to let this potential death trap near Marion II. The ship docked at a very large station. Then, the crew packed belonging and all left on a couple of shuttle craft for the planet.

     

      B'linna was very glad to see them and they her. There was just something very charming about the little girl. Her youger siblins (two sisters and a brother) were much less demonstrative but they were happy to greet their great grandfather and his shipmates. It started out to be a happy liberty.

     

      Eric, Emilly and several others were invited to meet with their shipmate, Brother Soran and the visiting Priest. This Priest was a weight lifter who highly skilled at the martial arts and was also a Federation Security (Marine) Officer. It should have been expected. He was also a graduate of a Society of Jesus (SJ) Seminary and was not only logical but highly intelligent and had earned his PhD in History and Sociology. He was a very well grounded person.

      After listening for a while, Eric felt the compulsion to speak:

      "I have some problems that I'd like your help on. Why does God let people suffer and why must people fell compelled to act? What really matters? Why do I wonder how people can committ violent actions knowing they will someday have to answer? Could it be there is no afterlife and no God or Gods to reward the "proper living" and punish the "improper living"? How can people act in evil ways knowing they'll pay some day? For that matter, how can different species and different cultures within these species have different ideas of good versus evil and even on the existance of eval?"

      There was a pause, the Emmily spoke.

      "What about the Borg? How can the individual Borg Drone pay for their sins when they really don't commite individual sins when they are not really indivisuals? Since the collective makes the decisions, then is the Drone who spends it's life cleaning mining gear a damned soul if it also participated in a concensus decision to destroy an overly resisting planet?"

      Brother Soron spoke up: "The Borg don't have the concept of good or evil; everything revolves around setting and achieving goals. To the Borg, sin is not assimulating what they set out to assimulate or doing what one set out to do. This is the impression I obtained from the moment of clarity I had before being cut off from the Collective."

      "Please continue," Dr. Kissinger urged.

      "Before a Drone is reprogrammed, there is a moment of revelation when a future Drone has been mentally changed enought to preceive the collective and to receive a very extensive briefing on it's nature. The Borg are not human, the Borg are evil incarnate and the Borg MUST be destroyed! The truly sad thing is the Borg Collective believes it is acting for the 'good of all'."

     

      The planet was a planet and had a lot of wild territory.

      Eric and Emmily had gotten their relationship healed to the point where they could enjoy time together again. They went on a camping trip to a highlands lake where they attempted to catch fish. The trout and steelhead and salmon had been carefully introduced to the planet a century before and was maintained by fish releases from discretely situated hatcheries.

      Emmily and Eric may have finally resolved their Erotic Tensions if they hadn't brought the kids with them...

     

      They had a great time and regreted having to go back to space so soon. Not even Eric would have remembered that he'd been in a place of many exciting things to do and he'd turned to obsolete and once illegal drugs and too much booze. The idea that he enjoyed the planet's attractions because he spent so much time in space was something he wasn't prepared to accept.

      They departed 32 days after their arrival and found that a Fleet Refueling Vessel (large) had resupplied their "bunkers". Eric's plan to more efficiently refuel various vessels had been put into place and "SILENT SCREAM" had to hustle to make their first rendzvous.

      Eric spent many hours on the Bridge or in reviewing the various reports but resisted the urge to "pop" when he got too tired. He simply drank one of the lagers they'd picked up on Marion II. (No one had told Eric that ancient junkies knew that alcohol would get them through times of no junk.) Fortunately, Eric really didn't like to drink and was saved from drinking too mnuch by this biological quirk.

 

 

      The third trip out started well: Star Fleet had taken Eric’s recommendations to heart and had planned a series of rapid refueling for them. Eric took to sitting on the bridge and rapid scanning various displays. The first three refuelings went quite well. Eric was notupto his old standards but he was definitely getting better.

      The fourth refueling to a ship of a species that called itself “The One And The Last”. It wasn’t known why they called themselves but it was known this was a very religious species and very sensitive to any slights. Caution was advised!

      Over the viewer, Eric and offices were introduced to a number of aliens with names that made the Fleet Refueling Vessel’s crew wonder if the Universal Translater was defective. The third named was “Speaker to the One” and he was tentatively identified as either the Captain or the “Feeder of the One”, whatever that could mean. After some talk, the aliens abruptly beamed aboard Eric’s ship. One came near Eric, who was seated in his bridge seat. Four others beamed onto the back end of the bridge and simply stood there.

      “When do you want to start refueling?”

      “It is now evening on our home world but a short period beyond the proper time to refuel. We must santify the fueling positions and we must prepare for receiving fuel. You, as Captain of this magnificent vessel, must prepare yourself for the Holy Acts of the One, of the Holy Acts of Refueling. It will take two days to refuel. We must accept the anti-deuterium in the morning tomorrow and the anti-silicon tomorrow night. Then, for the need of symmetry, we will accept anti-silicon in the morning day after tomorrow and anti-deuterium just under two full nights from now.”

      “Why not do a duel refueling now and safe time?”

      “It is written that we must refuel in this manner. Must you rewrite our ways? Yes, you must but you must rewrite them after we have spoken and our ways have been honored.”

      “Yes, of course…”

      “Do you take meals in the evening?”

      “Well, yes.” Eric was puzzled.

      “Then, let us partake of meals and create the beginning for the beginning for the beginning is the beginning of the beginning and we must eat to formulate that.”

      “That sounds like a great idea to me! We must have the Genisus of the Beginning and the beginning nof the dinner is the Genisus I believe we need.” Eric knew damn well that getting too hungry was a trigger his need for “pain relief” and that meant the “hair-oh-win”. He was hoping to avoid that!

      “Well, shall we go to the Wardroom?”

      “Yes, but not as you might expect.”

      The first course, a salad, was taken by Eric, the General and a number of his officers in the alien’s mess hall; the alien officers ate their salads in Eric’s Wardroom. They were effectively in one room due to communications screens that lined a wall on each ship. The second course, a soup course, was taken by the guests in their proper ships. The third course, was traditionally “meat or fish”. In this case, it was both; this course was taken on Eric’s ship the combined group. The fourth course, a large selection of deserts was taken by all on the alien ship. The final course, fruit and cheese was taken on Eric’s ship; again, this was a big group activity.

      The meals were accompanied by a carefully selected wine; what constituted “a carefully selected wine” was species dependent. The alien “wines” had heavy metals that even the Star Fleet Medical Corps would have had trouble treating. The aliens seemingly had no trouble assimilating the human and Klingon and Bolian wines.

      The subtle side effects would be seen later.

     

      The next morning, technicians on both ships had an easy time of transferring the anti-deuterium to the alien ship. Then, the two ships went about their normal routines as they waited for the evening refueling. At each fueling, the aliens chanted:

 

                                        “One charge for the morning,

                                         One charge for the night,

                                         If we die a borning,

                                         It may turn out right.”

                                                                 

      Eric and his people asked what this meant but got replies that made even less sense. The second night featured a feast after evening refueling but with the order of the meal reversed; it was the same courses but the order of where they ate was reversed.

      No one knew the alien drinks would combine with some of the alien food and in Eric’s damaged body, lead to unfortunate side effects. Eric left the Ward Room after the dinner and gave Emily a surprisingly enthusiastic and erotic kiss. They were on the way to Eric’s quarters and that might have “resolved their erotic tension” when Emmily was summunded to medical.

 

      The next morning began with breakfast and Eric seems more than a little off. He wasn’t drunk but he wasn’t quite sober either. The alien Captain met with Eric and they began talking of various worlds. It seemed this Captain was not a “he” or a “she” but something that translated like “guardian” or “Den Mother” or “approver”. The alien “Captain” said:

      “I don’t get involved with the messy stuff; I do the final checks and approve the potential citizen applicant and the third sex raises the potential citizen.”

      As far as Eric’s MDs could tell, this species had a “male” sex, a “female” sex, the “guardian” sex and a fourth sex that may have connected it’s blood system to that of an external womb. The aliens “joked” about “guardians” doing this as well and that was a subject no one talked about; it sounded like a taboo.

      In any case, the four sexes happily intertwined sexually and when they began to get explicit, Emmily and even the Second Officer discretely pushed little buttons on their recorders that caused them to announce some emergency they needed to attend to. They didn’t fool the aliens, who found such squimishness to be very funny. Later anthropologists learned the full details of this species and refused to speak of it to outsiders.

      Outsiders didn’t include military intelligence, being who were hard to shock.

      Normally…

 

      The day progressed with Eric giving various drinks, mostly alcoholic, to the alien and the alien responding with similar gifts. Unfortunately, they often contained odd and unknown chemicals and this was part of the aliens “getting to know a new species” routine. They were hoping to find…

 

     They found what they were looking for in Eric.

 

      In the early afternoon, Eric lurched out of his “office” and wandered into the conference room where his engineers and the aliens were meeting. One of the engineers scanned his Captain with a tricorder (a medical one being used competently by an engineer?) and spoke: “He has been poisoned!”

      “Yes, he has” a senior alien replied.

      Eric then began to speak, preach actually. He talked about “how could God have created a world full of pain” and dismissed the idea of “a pain God”, he talked about “what is the purpose of life”, “what is the purpose of God”, “how can people act knowing their actions are going to be judged by a God or Gods” and he intertwined a number of religious faiths. (He would later get a PhD in Divinity and while embarrassed to accept it, would admit “I was a bit intoxicated when I spoke my ’thesis’”.

 

       A conversation began between one of Eric’s Enginner/MDs and an alien who didn’t seem to actually do much with the refueling procedures.

      “He is drunk! I appologize, I’ve never seen him like this!”

      “Your Captain isn’t just drunk, our Facilator/Captain has been giving him drugs.”

      “Why?”

      “To see if your species has Holy Madness. It would seem it does.”

      “Madness, yes, Holy, I don’t know about that. My Priest would be apauled by some of his conclusions and religious models he is proposing.”

      “Yes, Holy Madness, Holy Madness we will treasure for many years to come.”

       “Well, I’m embarrassed to admit Eric is talking like a madman.’

       “We have the insane as well.”

      “He usually is quite sober and it is still a shock to see him like this.”

      “It bothers our families when a member goes into Holy Madness; we are pleased that his family is equally bothered.”

      “We would rather keep this ’in the family’, if you know what I mean?”

      “We have similar beliefs. Since we have induced this frenzy we now know your species is worthy, ’through madness, God speaks’.”

      “Does this mean your family will keep this quiet?”

      “No, it means your Federation just joined our Family and our Family just joined your Federation.”

      “In that case, welcome to our Family!”

 

      The Federation signed rather strange articles of agreement with this alien species and they gained access to much esoteric knowledge. The Federation also gained something unbelievable.

      They gained access to the Borg mind. It seemed that a number of this species’ members had been assimilated (deliberately or accidentally, none would say). Their connections to their “protectors” remained and the aliens, along with their new Family members, the Federation, now had a “listening post” inside the Borg Mind. But it would take decades before this became useful…

 

      Eric staggered off to his quarters as the effects of some of the alien stimulants began to kick in. He was in trouble and couldn’t seem to find his comm badge. He could “dial up” a heavy dose of a neuro-depressant, calming agent, from his replicator and he self administered it. The Heroic Dose he gave himself began to calm him down.

      Had he waited a minute or two later, Emmily would have come to his aid. But waiting that long would probably have left him with a blown out heart. (It was approaching the pulse rate of a Vulcan, in other words, too damn high!)

      The Heroin calmed him right down, it calmed him into full cardiac arrest.

      The computerized “Nanny System” finally kicked in and transported him to sick bay. Apauled medical personnal put Eric on a bed, his jacked was ripped open and his singlet cut open and old fashioned paddles applied to his chest and he was shocked into life again. Then, Emmily, helped by an alien female, administered several antidotes to the various drugs in his system. It brought Eric back to life.

       At one point, when it looks very grim, Emmily slapped Eric and screamed “I will fucking kill you if you die on me!”

      The Alien, one of the mysterious “fourth sex” thought of Emmily: “Females, they get so emotional about their males.” It though of Eric: “Males, they do such stupid things simply because those <untranslatable alien obscenity> guardians think they have such great ideas.”

      The Alien (of the Fourth Sex) then left to attend to the “Captain”, who had gone into analectic shock from Bourbon mixed with alien strangness. He-it too began preaching.

      Years later, Eric would be embarrassed to learn that his rantings had been studied for 50 years and he and become the Patron Saint and Prophet in a strange religion. He would have been truly upset if there had been any way for him to know “his” religion wold last tens of thousands of years and would spawn a series of other religions…

 

      After Eric “awoke”, the General helped raise him to a seated position on the medical bed. The General motioned all but one of the MDs out of sick bay. (The ship had five MDs, which was a lot for a ship with a crew of 36!) 

      Then, Emmily back handed Eric hard enough that he was nearly knocked out; Emmily would later think she had broken her wrist.

      “How dare you use that shit again? How dare you get drunk and stupid and not check with me beforehand? How fucking dare you die on me?

      There was a long pause as Eric was trying to figure out where the hell he was.

      “How can you treat us all this badly? I thought you trusted me better than that! I could kill you for what you just did to us!”

      “It is not his fault, Emmily,” the General said, “our Eric did not know what he was given or what the effects would be.”

      “Then why did he use that fucking bloody heroin?”

      “It…was…to….calm me…down. My heart…was…go…ing…too fast and Ihadtoslow it…down…” Eric had the room’s full attention.

      “I….also remember…what I didn’t want to…remember from the…Wolf.”

      “Well, tell me!”

      Eric had falled asleep; Emmily was furious and slapped him a couple of additional times and that brought him awake again.

      The remaining MD started forward and Dr. Wond stopped him.

      “Don’t interfere! This is typical Klingon behaviour: A drunken husband being confronted by his sober wife. She is letting him know his behaviour is unacceptable.”

      “There are not Klingons!”

      “Not physically but emotionally they are. You’ll see.”

      The argument was settling down. Wond decided to add to the “conversation” by saying:

      “A back hand slap sends the wrong doer away from the family. Now, you need to use a forehand slap to bring him back into the family.”

      “Oh, God, not again!” Eric groaned.

      Emmily brought him back into the family with a hearty fore hand slap. The slap knocked Eric out and knocked him on his side.

      The slap broke Emmily’s right wrist…

      When Eric awoke, it was the next day. The alien ship had finished refueling the night before and had roared off into warp. General Wond had the “SILENT SCREAM” underweigh for their next refueling.

      Eric looked at Emmily, who was looking very concerned.

      “What are you doing with that club on your right arm?”

      “I broke my wrist slapping you, stupid.”

      Eric thought of saying “well it serves you right” but a sudeden spasm of “proper thinking” kept him diplomatic.

      “Whey are you wearing a cast when a simple operation could have cured it immediately?”

      “Our precious General thought it would be better for my wrist ‘to heal naturally’.”

       “Well, please sit next to me and let’s talk.”

       Emmily sat next to Eric and then feeling tired, laid down. Eric was on his right side and Emmily put her head on his arm. They dozed off for a few minutes. General Wond was watching the situation from a little monitor in the Captain’s Chair (on the bridge). He smiled in genuine, relaxed and relieved happiness.

      When it was clear that both were awake, Eric spoke:

      I’ve remembered what drove me over the edge.”

      ”What was that?” Emmily was surprised for she had given up hope that Eric would remember.

      ”It was…” and was interrupted by General Wond roaring “wait, I’ll be right down!”.

      Wond charged off the bridge; the senior officer present shrugged and said: “I think this means I have the Bridge” and he took the “deck and the con”. It was irregular but not unexpected on the “SILENT SCREAM”.

 

      When Wond entered sick bay, Eric was sitting upright and Emmily was very primly seated next to him on a chair. You would never had known they’d been on the bed together moments before, with his left hand resting over her breasts…

 

      ”You are awake, young man.”

      ”Yes, sir.”

      ”How is the wrist, my dear?”

      ”Not too painful but certainly ackward. Why don’t we use a little modern medicine and fix it?
      ”That would be a waste of time, little one. We used ’modern medicine’ last night after putting the cast on. You shouldn’t feel any unusual pain.”

      ”Then why the cast?”

      ”To remind everyone of the consequences of violence. You’ll have to wait till the cast is fully cured before we dare remove it.”

      Eric knew beter but said nothing; he knew better than to interupt Dr. Wond in mid treatment.

      ”Then, what was the reason for your madness?”

      Eric flinched at this summation but realized the justice in it.

      ”After the Borg attack, I maneuvered the TAMERLANE among the wrecks and we retrieved as many bodies as we could. Sometimes, the bodies were alive and that was both a joyous and terrifying experience. Some lived, many died and that was horrible enough. It wasn’t until I found the girl that ’the mirror shattered’, in a manner of speaking.” (This phrase came from his sermon of the day before and the mirror covered the choas at the heart of everyone and reflected the reality each person wanted the world to see.)

      ”She was a cute child, about the age of B’linna and she thought I was her Father. She died in my arms. It went beyond horrible and I couldn’t deal with it. I just burried the memory and everything got very, very strange. I’m sorry.”
      There was a lot of talking after that and the general concessus was that Eric was finally healing. Dr. Wond quietly left sick bay and called Eric’s parents. Then, he explained that Eric was finally healing and told them of the little Klingon girl who had died in Eric’s arms.

      The reconciliation between Federation and Klingon Empire was revealed in the way Eric’s parents and sister thought of the Klingon girl as a “dead child” and not a “dead Klingon” or a “dead enemy”…

 

      Emmily called her friend Beverly and discussed Eric. She also told her friend and former mentor that Eric blamed Jon-Luc Piccard for the Wolf Massacure. It turned out Jon-Luc was feeling a great deal of guilt himself. Emmily, Beverly and Dr. Wond decided on a good location for a “healing conference” and General Wond sent a message to the ENTERPRISE and Star Fleet ship routing requesting the two ships meet at a space station orbiting a planet notable only for being a Neptune sized planet whose weather several Masters Degree students were modeling and studying. (As it turned out, the students had requested orbiting weather monitors from an automated factory but had not put a stop date on the order. Every million years afterwards, the automated factory sent out replacement sensors. A billions years later, an intelligent species finally arose and they made orbit and wondered at the alien technology…)

      It was traditional for patients to wear civilian attire asnd to bre introduced only by first names. Eric knew only one “Jon-Luc” who could look like this man in civilian attire.

      ”May I call you Lucky John?”

      ”I would rather you did not.”

      ”Then, may I refer to you as John Lucky?”

      ”No, but you may call me John.”

      ”Thank you, sir.” Eric heard the “sir” slide out.

      ”Just call me ‘John’, Red.”

      ”Red, sir, er, John?”

      ”As in ‘Eric the Red’.”

      ”I like it, John, I like it.”

      Coffee was passed out and three miserable days of talking began. Then, after the feelings had been talked about, there were two days were spent healing. Eric had a lot of anger towards Locutus as did Jon-Luc Piccard. The word of the conference had gone out and some fifteen ships with survivors had arrived. They had broken into groups whose membership had shifted.

      Many broken people had arrived for the meeting and many somewhat healed had left.

     

      Eric called his parents via the Captain’s Channel. Somehow, he parents must have known he was going to call since his parents and little sister were in the family living room; Eric’s Father made a big production of looking at his watch and Eric realized he apparently was late.

      ”Hi, Mom, Dad and brat. I’m happy to see you’re home. It sure was convenient that you were home today.” Eric laughed.

      ”Hello, Eric,” his father began, “it’s good to see you look better.” Eric still looked like a recent corpse but that was an improvement.

      ”Your Emmiily called and said she would have you call, Ear ache.” Eridc’s sister wasn’t one to give too much niceness to Ericl

      ”I suppose I should tell you what was driving me,” Eric took a deep breath and began speaking. It was a long talk and several alien governments (among them Klingons, Romulans and Gorn) were becoming concerned until they decrypted the “secrue unbreakable” codes Eric was using and they realized they were listening to a family conversation. Not even the Romulans felkt like listening to this…

     

      Several weeks later, Eric was very much his old self. ENTERPRISE sent a request for an emergency shipment of anti-deuterium (they had refueled several Star Fleet ships that had gone on a long duration mission) and a star ship of a species that only the refueling people knew much about. The timing would be tight but the old Ericd was back and in his justified confidence, Eric had a tough plan.

     

      Data was at his usual position on ENTERPRISE when he suddenly looked at his instruments. He worked his controls quickly and this attracted the attention of Piccard and Riker.

      ”Is there something, Mr. Data?”

      ”Yes, Sir, there may be. There appears to be a ship approaching at warp 9.8. However, the object is changing it’s appearance and appears to be employing a variety of cloaking fields. This is confusing.”

      ”Romulams?”

      ”No, Commander, there are also cloaking fields I’ve never seen before. Contact in twelve seconds.”

      To everyone’s shock, the unknown ship abruptly slowed to match the ENTERPRISE’s warm eight and phased through the ENTERPRISE’s warp field and navigation shields. Then, sensors showed someone had accessed the ENTERPRISE’s controls and refueling was occurring. As this was happening, ahn emergency call came in. The screen activated on it’s own.

      Eric Randall Bellingham’s face filled the main view screen and he was smiling. He looked healthy and happy.

      ”Captain Piccard, it is very good to see you. I know this is uncongenial but we don’t have time to daudle so we’re refueling you in a hurry.”

      ”You are looking fine, Red.”

      ”So are you, John and so are the rest of you. William, General Wond’s great granddaughter B’linna wants to know why you and your wife Dianna haven’t talked with her lately?

      ”Well…”

      ”Been too busy, ah, Bill? When are you going to make an honest man of him, Dianna? Ah, is that the Dr. Beverly who has spent so much time talking with me Emmily? Bev, may I call you Bev? When are you going to make an honest man of your Jon-Lucky?”

      ”We’ll make it a tripple wedding, Eric. You and your Emmily can be the third couple.” Jon-Luc Piccard could be very dry when he wanted to.

      ”Good point there, John, good point but we’ve got to go.”

      The “SILVER STREAK“, formerly known as the “SILENT SCREAM” had refueled ENTERPRISE in 4.4 seconds and had departed at warp 9.

      The “SILVER STREAK” abruptly accelerated to warp 9.9 and her signature faded into interstellar noise.

     

      Aboard ENTERPRISE, Riker smirked and said “it sounds like you scared someone off, John Lucky”.

      ”We can arrange a double wedding on ENTERPRISE, if you are willing, Bill.”

      Even Data understood Riker’s “deer in the headlights” look but he didn’t understand the biterness in Troi’s laugh.

     

      The remainder of Eric’s two month tour was uneventful. However, a couple of days stood out. Eric had learned much of particle physics from his long talk with the alien “Captain” and he had a epiphany. He had a vision of a different way of describing matter. He spend a couple of days in a frenzied and very intense period of thinking. Late on the second day, he showed his physicists what he had come up with. They were impressed.

      Eric had another epiphany and realized that all of his “new” physics and the “old” physics could combine to create a perfect particle. He “created” this “perfect particle” on his computer and showed it to Wold and his other officers. His model displayed the characteristis of his “new” particle. He was awed.

      Wond was appauled.

      When Wond sent a high precedence and very securely encrypted message to the Star Fleet High Command, Star Fleet Intelligence (FADM Uhura), Klingon High Command, Romulan High Command and CAPTAIN Piccard. Piccard simply shook his head and rested his head on his hands. Then, he called in his senior officers, who already had knowledge of “the Omega particle”.

     

      When the “SILVER STREAK” arrived at Marian, Eric was interviewed by several Command and Medical Officers who wondered what to do with him. They approved of his transfer to another ship and he was glad that. He didn’t learn of their deliberations.

      ”Should he remain on active duty?”

      ”Yes, he’s a well trained and experienced officer and we can’t afford to lose any. It looks like war with the Dominium is coming..”

      ”Very well, I agree. Let’s make him a Chief Engineer or perhaps a First Officer.”

      ”That won’t work, either. Eric Bellingham has been a Commanding Officer too long. He could never adapt to being anything else on a ship.”

      ”He can’t be a Commanding Officer on a regular ship and still be a ‘Warrant Officer’, Captain Piccard!”

      ”I agree.”

     

      When Eric was brought back into the room, he stood at attention in front of the President of the Board of Inquiry, FADM J.P. Hanson.

      ”Mr. Bellingham, you have three choices: You can retired and return to earth, you can serve aboard a ship as Chief Engineer or perhaps First Officer or you can take Command. What would you prefer?”

      ”Sir, I would like to return to full active duty and to have my old rank back.”

      ”And?”

      ”I would like command again. It suits me. I would have trouble being anything but in command because I need…”

      ”You need to be in Command, Eric?” This was Piccard speaking.

      ”Yes, Sir.”

      ”Then, I am in full agreement,” Piccard stated.

      FADM Hanson looked at the monitor embedded into his desk and Eric realized the Board members were voting on his future. He didn’t have long to wait. Piccard stood.

      Warrant Officer Eric Randall Bellingham, it is the judgement of this Court that you be restored to your old rank of Lieutent Commander, that you leave the status of ‘Retired Retained on Active Duty’ and return to Full Active Duty; and that you take command of a regular ship. We’ll have to find a ship for you but we have one in mind. You’re dismissed, Red; we’ll talk later.”

     

      After Eric left, the Court looked at each other.

      ”Which ship?” was what one of the ps;ychologists spoke.

      ”We need a ship that can keep LCDR Bellingham out of trouble and yet keep him fully occupied. I was thinking of the USS EDWARD BERRY. The BERRY is going on a exploration of a     newly discovered realm inside a large cloud of strange matter. Why the cloud formed and why there is a realm of normal matter inside it is a puzzlement. We need a skilled physicist to explore it. We also need to keep Eric out of trouble and away from anyone who might learn of the Omega Particle from Eric.”

      The agreement was unanimous; Eric would get the EDWARD BERRY and a fine puzzle to try solving.

     

      After the Battle of Wolf 359, LCDR Scott Talbert had taken command of an ad hoc force of ships that was used for doing casualty reports from the dead ships and in protecting the dead from scavengers. LCDR Talbert was aided by a number of Federation, Klingon and even Gorn Warriors. They quickly became infamous for the violence by which they defended the dead.

      Now, others more calm than Talbert and his Soldiers relieved them. LCDR Scott Talbert accepted Medical Retirement, the position of “Ship’s Master” or “Sailing Master” (in the ancient terminology) and the crew of the “CHARGING ALLASAUROS” (FFV 97) was wondering what to make of their new Commanding Officer and his odd mixture of calm peacefullness and violence that would stagger even a Norscian. Scott Talbert would prove to be a difficult patient to treat; fortunately, he did not know he was a patient.

*

*Eric and a group who had transferred from the FFV97 and many who had been on the TAMERLANE had gotten together at an outdoor bar. The Court of Inquiry had broad powers and included the ability to request anyone Eric had wanted on his new ship. Those asked had all agreed to come.

*One crewwoman had a small dog. When this dog saw Eric, it bristled! The dog stood with stiff legs, tail out stiff and snarled at Eric.

*Eric smiled, laughed and looked away.

*Ten minutes later, the dog was sitting on Eric’s lap, demanding his attention and acting as it had many times when Eric was Chief Engineer on the TAMERLANE.

*B’linna walked over to Eric, who was eating a small steak and salad and feeding pieces of his steak to the dog.

*”What is that?”

*”Steak. Would you like to try some?”

*Eric handed the girl a piece of steak and then had to hand the dog a piece of steak as well. Finally, he was able to eat a piece of his own steak. The process continued and Eric was getting very little of his steak! The waitress brought over another steak for the Klingon girl and one that had been choped into pieces for Eric and the dog. She laughed and said “I can see a dog being a member of the ‘Dead Meat Society’ but a Klingon girl?”

*”What is the ‘dead meat society’?” Eric was curious.

*”The Dead Meat Society” is made up of Klingons who have gotten tired of eating live meat and are in rebellion against society. They are regarded as a bit of a perversion.”

*General Wond sat at the table with them.

*”It would be wrong for her to eat a Garlic Brat, with sourkrat and a non-alcoholic beer. Very wrong, indeed,” the good General continued.

*Wond’s great granddaughter looked at the waitress and said “that is exactly what I would like!”

*Several minutes later, the waitress brought the Garlic Brat. The young lady ate about a third of the Brat and then bit off a couple of more bites and fed them to the dog. The dog decided this strange smelling girl was his new best friend. After a few minutes, B’linna ran off and the dog looked upset.

*”Why did she leave in such a hurry?”

*”I did say it would be ‘very wrong indeed’, did not? Garlic Brats gives Klingons gas the first few times they try them. She’ll adjust in a short time but she will fart like a Targ tonight and her parents will be very upset with me. It is a very good thing that I am getting under weight with your ex-Second Officer in a couple of hours.”

*The General roared with laughter.

*”I will excape the wrath of her parents.”

*

*B’linna and her parents arrived at the bar Eric was munching on “finger food” at the bar and sipping a non-alcoholic drink. Her parents were roaring with rage and terrifying their daughter.

*”Where is that old man,” B’linna’s Father roared.

*”My daughter has eaten dead meat! This is intolerable and must be stopped! Where is he?”

*”The old Gentleman left perhaps twenty minutes ago to resume his First Officer Command of his boat. He has a new Commanding Officer to save and should be warping out any time now.”

*”Outrageous!” Both adult Klingons roared in rage; their daughter B’linna decided it was time to go do something else and she left to find friends on the otherr side of the village. As soon as the waitress nodded, meaning that B’linna was outside of “ear reach” of the bar, B’linna’s parents roared in laughter.

*They roared with laughter!

*Eric was dumfounded.

*B’linna’s Mother spared Eric any further puzzlement.

*”Eatting dead meat is a phase young Klingons go through when they are approaching their teens. At first, they have a very hard time digesting spiced dead meat but they become used to it later.”

*”Most Klingons don’t take to ‘dead meat eating’ and never touch it again.”

*The waitress came over and asked “would you like your usual”?

*”We both would, please.”

*The waitress  brought a brat, with saurkrat and extra strong mustard over to B’linna’s Father and a brat with cheese and nearly burnt bacon stripes to B’linna’s Mother.

*”Some of us never outgrew eating dead meat, Eric,” said B’linna’s Mother.

*The three ate their “dead meat” and talked of other things.

*

*The next day, B’linna met Eric and others for breakfast and she looked bilous; she had been farting all night and was eating carefully. Her parents just shook their heads in dismay and told her to behave. Then, the parents wondered off to “speak with our business associates” and left B’linna with Eric and Emmily; actually, B’linna’s parents were going to eat breakfast with old friends (mostly humans and one “renegrade” Vulcan and five Klingons); they ate well cooked bacon, eggs fried in the bacon fat, mashed potatoes fried in the bacon fat and toasted bread soaked with butter. Their Mds would treat them for excessive chloestrol but that was no big deal.

*It would have been a big deal if the Vulcans had learned a Vulcan was not only a meat eater but a dead meat eater!
*Over the next two days, B’linna and her friends met k and B’linna sampled several different types of “dead meat”. Her parents wondered why she kept farting at night and thought she had still been sampling “dead meat”. When she quit farting at night, they reassured each other the daughter had quit.

*She had simply gotten some enzyne supplements from Emmily and that had kick started her digestion into digesting “dead meat”. When B’linna’s  two little sisters and little brother decided to try “dead meat”, they never farted at all!

*Their parents thought their youngest three hadn’t the courage to try “dead meat” and were publically jubilant and secretly saddened.,

*They need not to have worried; B’linna was giving them the enzyne supplement and the three had gotten used to eating “dead meat”. It would be decades before the parents found out. (But, at least they had someone to bar-b-que with…)

*

*The USS EDWARD BERRY (NCC 15100) was an experimental design. It had the landing ability of the VOYAGER class and the forward sally ramp and the port side sally ramp of the much earlier TAMERLANE class. Eric had earlier requested everyone of the TAMERLANE’s crew who wanted to serve with Eric, Emmily and “Brother Soran”. The BERRY would have a crew of 90 (4 bridge officers and 6 engineering officers) and a “supplementary” staff of 20 scientists.

*

*Before they left, Eric was startled to find a strange couch in his officer/crew lounge. It took a moment’s thought but he finally realized it was the couch he had stolen over a year and half before.

*Eric asked the computer who had arranged for this couch’s arrival and was asked to call the couch’s original owners. He was nervous…

*

*Eric recognized the people he had robbed; they did not recognize him. Eric simply looked much healthier and he was far more relaxed and calm.

*”We were hoping to speak with the person who robbed us, Lieutenant Commander. Could you get him, please?”

*”Unfortunately, I happen to be that person.”

*They were dumfounded.

*”Why did you rob us?”

*”It is very hard to try to explain, even today I have trouble believing the things I did. All I can say is that ‘I’m sorry’ and deeply regret what I did.”

*”That’s it? That’s all you have to say, young man?”

*After the Battle of Wolf 359, I lost touch with reality in my grief. I suppose it is accurate to say I went mad and have been in therapy since ‘The Wolf’. That doesn’t answer you, I suppose but it is about the best answer I can give you.”

*”What do they have you doing?”

*”I was given command of a science vessel and we will be going some deep space exploration of a small cluster. It should be good, calm, peaceful and intellectually exciting. We’ re looking forward to it.”

*”It doesn’t sound like you’ve been punished!”

*”An argument can be made that I’ve been punished.”

*”Well, we aren’t going to press charges against you but we’ll keep that option open!”

*”That is reasonable. Why did you arrange to send your couch out to me? Wouldn’t you want it at home?”

*”The couch will remind you of what you did. Good day!

*Eric tapped his “hand up key” but the signal did not go away. After a couple of seconds, the screen opened again and this time, the folks on Earth saw young Vulcan who seemed a little less emotionally contained than usual.

*”I am Ensign Soran, you may call me ‘Brother Soran’. I would like to clarify some points my Commander overlooked.” The Vulcan didn’t sound quite unemotional.

*”What could you possibly say to us?”
*”Patience.” Soran then shouted “Patience! I WILL EXPLAIN!”

*The robbed family on Earth was shocked by this emotional outburst.

*”Eric Randall Bellingham was seriously hurt and was not responsible for his actions. I could explain?” Brother Soran’s voice went beyond Vulcan calm to something that was an emotion in itself.

*They waited.

*”Eric Randall Bellingham tried rescuing the living, the dying and the dead from the derelicts THOSE  BORG BASTARDS LEFT BEHIND!” The Vulcan sighed and managed to get his face into the proper form of an unemotional Vulcan. “Eric risked his life to save the life of a child - a Klingon child to be exact - only to have this child die in his arms. He basically went insane in his attempts to ovecome the trauma. He started using drugs to calm himself down. Part of the madness was the mistaken belief that only a Criminal Syndicate could provide the proper strong drugs and that he would have to steal valuable items to trade for said drugs. It was only after he robbed you that he realized any ‘strong drugs’ he wanted were available in his replicator, that there were no ‘Criminal Syndicates’ and the concept of trading stolen items for ‘strong drugs’ was centuries out of date.”

*”Incredible!”

*”Eric has had a very hard time dealing his embarrassment and that was almost as hard as dealing with the child who died in his arms. So you can see, it would be hard to see how society could punish him more than he has already tortured himself.”

*”Thank you, young man. Why did you come on after your ‘Eric’?”

*”I care about him and try to protect him when I can. After all, he saved me.

*”Well, take care…of yourself and you Eric, Brother Soran.”

*The screen went dead and as the couple on Earth was thinking the conversation was over, the screen opened again and this time a young woman was smiling at them.

*”I’m Dr. Emmily LeFere, Chief Medical Officer of the USS EDWARD BERRY and before that Fleet Fueling Vessel 97 and before that the USS TAMERLANE. I can probably clear up something.”

*”What would that be?”

*”Ensign Brother Soran.”

*”Why?”
*”Brother Soran was in the process of being converted to a Borg when Eric performed a very dangerous and unorthodox maneuver that saved the TAMERLANE. This move probably caused the Borg vessel to leave the Wolf system and for some reason, that seems to have ended the conversion of Soran to Borg. We were able to return Soran to fully Vulcan but mentally, he hasn’t quite made it back.”

*”What do you mean?”

*”He had a moment of clarity in which he observed the nature of the Borg Collective Mind. It was a state of total non-emotion and should have been the Vulcan ideal yet it was so cold that Soran could not accept it. So, he has fluctuated between somewhat emotional to almost non-emotional. He is calmest around Eric, a few others and I. We’re working on the real solutin to his emotional problems.”

*”What would that be?”

*She laughed. “Marriage. We’re arranging to marry off our Brother Soran. A good wife will stabliize him up very quickly.”

*”That sounds so odd that it might work. Were you at Wolf 359?”

*”Yes, I was.”

*”You seem perfectly healthy.”

*”Appearances are deceiving, we were all casualties, including me.”

*”Do you have a solution?
*Her smile was wonderful to see.

*”I suppose I could get married off!”

*”Do you have someone in mind?”

*”Yes.”

*”By any chance, would we know who?”

*”You might…”

*”Would this Eric Bellingham know?”

*”I keep hoping marriage will occurr to him.”

*”Well, don’t be bashful, young lady”, the female couch owner said.

*”I will most assuredly make me feelings known to my intended.” There was a beep. “Speaking of whom, I’ve got to go. My Captain Eric wants to talk with me.”

*She nodded and this time the comms went “dead” and stayed “dead”.

*

*Back on Earth, the male couch owner said “who does she want to marry?”
*”Why, that boy Eric, of course. I wonder how long it’ll take her to simply tell him?”

*”Hummm, good question.”

*

*Vulcans had spent many centuries figuring how to arrange marriages. It had taken less than a week but the Vulcan Central Reproductive (Marriage) Bureau had found a compatiable mate for “Brother Soran”. Still, it would take personal visits to be sure.

*Eric talked with his new First Officer (LCDR Henri Ramm) and Emmily. The First Officer had been a Second Officer on one of the ship’s killed at “The Wolf”.

*”How do we arrange for our Brfother Soran to meet this Vulcan Woman?”

*”We could tell Fleet that Soran needs a ‘compassionate leave’ and that the EDWARD BERRY is the best veswsel for taking him there.” The new First Officer had a fine idea.

*”We could say that taking Soran to meet this young lady would be in his interest. As a Medical Doctor, I could make that request and yet not have to be specific.”

*”Well, if we go with the ‘medical option’, wouldn’t that be harmful to Soran?

*”No Henri, it would not. Soran’s mental problems are well documented in his Medical Records.”

*”How about tryuing a combination of ‘taking Soran to Vulcan for the good of the Service’ and ‘we need to test the engines ability to run at sustained high speed’?

*”That sounds fine, Captain,” the new First Officer commented. “Let’s ask the Star Fleet laison officer.

*Eric spoke “Computer, open a channel to the Fleet Laiason officer. “

*”Captain Bellingham, I am Commander Richard Schmidt. Whast can I do for you?”

*”We need to get one of my people to Vulcan so that he can meet a young Vulcan woman he is becoming friendly with, Sir.”

*”Ah, you need to facilitate a young Vulcan Male’s courting, then?”

*”Yes, Sir.”

*”You may head directly to Vulcan when convenient, Captain Bellingham and you may do a ‘speed run’ on your engines. I’ll make the arrangements so you need not worry.”

*”Sir,” Emmily was curious but not line officer enough to keep her mouth shut, “how is it that a Commander could have that much power?”

*Commander Schmidt laughed.

*”I’m retired retained on active duty, young lady. I was a Commodore before I retired and sometimes I forget and call myself that.” The Commodore -er- Commander laughed and smiled and ended the conversation from his end.

*The orders to take Soran to Vulcan came through the next day. It would take Eric another day to get the BERRY repositioned fully and to get everyone aboard. He needed a Supply Officer but Star Fleet had somehow decided that Line or Engineering Officers could serve as their own supply officers. With the buildup due to the post Borg attack environment and fears of more wars with the Cardassians, what few supply officers the Federation had were being spread very thinly. Star Fleet simply didn’t have one to spare for a ship about to go on “Science Missions”!

*There were a couple of crew who wouldn’t be able to arrive in time and who would have to rendezvous with the BERRY in deep space. They would come in a warp capable shuttle (albeit an newer model) and their “courier shuttle” would be assigned to the BERRY as an auxiliary.

*Three days after receiving their verbal orders, the EDWARD BERRY lifted off from Marian II with Vulcan 8 days off. During the trip, Eric and his crews simply spent their time getting fully aquanted with their new home. Eric came up with a varient of the “Pipe and Wiring Book”. Everyone got a copy and attended multiple lectures on the subject. It may not hyave been ultimately useful but everyone felt more confidient.

*

*Finally, they arrived at Vulcan. They landed near the North Pole near sundown on a relatively cool day. To humans, it was hot but dry. It was not too late for a certain meeting to take place: the meeting of Brother Soran and his intended.

*Brother Soran stood in the Wardroom^[2] and figited; he was clearly reluctant to leave the ship.

*”What is the problem?”

*”I am to meet my intended, T’Gor and her parents. Normally, a potential groom goes with his parents to meet his intended and her parents. I can not do this.”

*”Why not?” Eric wanted to know.

*”His parents disowned him, Eric,” Emmily replied.

*”I can not go out by myself. It simply”, he whispered, “is too embarrassing.”

*”When will your guests be arriving?”

*”In about 30 minutes, Captain.”

*”Well, Emmily, shall we go out in loco parientis?”

*”Certainly, my dear, we shall do this for our Brother Soran.”

*”Soran, Emmily and I will stand in for your parents. We’ll need a few minutes to change into our dress civilian attire.”

*”You really don’t need to do this, you know.” Brother Soran talked the talk but his face clearly communicated “please do this!”

*

*They left the ship with Emmily wearing a long blue tunic, matching trousers and sandals. Eric was wearing a white linen suit, with pale blue dress shirt, no neck tie and his sandals matched Emmily’s. Brother Soran wore a black dress shirt, black dress trousers, black socks and spit shined black shoes. All he lacked was the reversed collar.

*T’Gor and her parents were matching tunics of a pale green, dark green trousers and light brown desert boots. They wore formality as a second skin.

*”I am Tuane, Father of T’Gor and husband to Doran. We greet you.”

*”I am Eric and this is Emmily. We’re old friends and shipmates of Brother Soran and are herre for him.”

*”Are not Soran’s parents going to be here?” Doran spoke.

*”That is not possible,” Soran admitted.

*”Why not”, was Tuane’s reply.

*”Soran’s parents can not accept his religious beliefs and his sometimes emotional behaviour. They have…”, here Eric lurched to a halt and Emmily finished for him.

*”have disowned him. His parents have stated that ’unless and until’ he renounced his Roman Catholic beiefs, attains total emotional control and renounces his affiliations with  Star Fleet then he is quote no son of mine unquote. Well, they didn’t exactly say that. That was a line from an old song. Basically, he has to stop being who he is now and to return to the person he was before the Battle of Wolf 359.”

*”He can’t do that! It would simply be impossible.” This was the first that  T’Gor spoke.

*”Well,” Tuane finally said, “why don’t be become acquainted?”

*The six walked over to an outdoor table. When 40 Eridani sank below the horizon, the twilight was long but the temperatures cooled quickly to what humans thought of as “a pleasant evening”. They were lucky; the other two stars of the 40 Eridani triple star system were not only too far away to affect Vulcan but were not “out” that evening. It was a clear night and the stars were very bright. Given the circumstances, they had a very pleasant time and enjoyed a light meal.

*Afterwards, came the formal acceptance of the relationship. Her Father spoke directly to Eric:

*”You Son is a good and honorable person and will honor our family.”

*”We thank you.”

*Then Emmily spoke directly to her Mother:

*”Your Daughter is a good and honorable person and will honor our family.”

*The speech was a formality; afterwards, the four adults exchanged farewell salutes and the future Groom and the future Bride were left along to finally speak with each other in person. They spent most of the night in conversation.

*”The next day, Eric and Emmily met T’Gor in a large dining room. They sat and ordered drinks.

*”I greet you, Mother of my Intended and Father of my Intended. There is a delicate subject that I need to bring up: Soran’s dowery.”

*”Is this ‘dowery’ something that you would pay him or something he would pay you?” Emmily was quite curious.

*”By my clan’s tradition, the Groom must pay a dowery to the Bride’s Family. It indicates his ability to support her. I didn’t want to tell you this but she whom he was formerly ‘engaged to’ will make unkind remarks about his family. I don’t know how to resolve this.”

*Eric laughed and T’Gor was taken aback.

*”Our family has gold pressed-latnum, We were allowed to sell surplus equipment when we were on the TAMERLANE and a Ferungi named Quark has invested it for us.”

*Her eyebrows rose.

*”Would his name be ‘Quark’?”

*”Well, yes…”

*She looked irritated for a Vulcan.

*”Would five stripes of gold pressed-latnum be satisfactory?”

*”Yes, it would be.”

*”Then, we will provide a dowery of five stripes of gold pressed-latnum!” Emmily trumpted Eric.

*”That might be regarded as excessive.”

*”It simply means his family can support a young family.” Eric commented.

*”You’re really not his family.”

*”In a modern sense, we are,” Emmily rebuffed. “We have been together for many years on three ships. Eric is nearly 33 years old, I am 32 and Brother Soran is 28 years old.”

*”I am 29 of your human years old.  Soran and I are both considered very young; it is good that is ‘parents’ are older and more experienced.”

*That lead to an unconfortable silence for both Eric and Emmily.

*”About Quark, how did you plan on getting the gold pressed-latnum stripes from him?”

*”We were going to have Quark give them to old friend, who will rendezvous with us in several months.”

*”Did Quark say anything about a ‘handling fee’ for issuing the stripes?”

*”Yes, he did but he didn’t say what it would be.”

*”I am a financial officer with the Vulcan Defense Ministry and we have dealt with this Quark before. He will charge you four stripes and the accounting will be very hard to trace. If you know anyone who can pressure Quark into providing the gold pressed-latnum for free, then do so.”

*Eric smilled, a rather mean smile.

*”My old friend from the Academy, Worf Son of Moog, is the Security Officer on Deep Space Nine. He will get the latnum!”

*”How do we transfer this from our family to yours?”

*”As long as Soran is able to give the latnum to me before we wed then all is well. My parents are not concerned with receiving this wealth but it is politically necessary.”

*”I can arrange for Soran to have access to a high priority sub-space link and you two can speak on a daily basis. I believe it is a good thing for couples to speak often.

*Emmily blushed.

*

*It took the BERRY three weeks to reach the entrance of the strange matter realm. There an oversized shuttle was waiting for them.

*Eric issued a standard hail and the shuttle opened a sub-space channel to an office in the Star Fleet Exo-Biology office. A gentleman, who looked to be in his 60s and who wore reading glasses, answered. They suspected he would be a bit eccentric based on the glasses. In an environment when surgical correction of visual defects barely rated as “out-patient”, someone wearing “glasses” stood out…

 

 

 

^^

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      They didn't know the "natives" had not only penetrated into the "attic" but had removed inspection ports and were looking into the sealed first section.

      Eric heard "Ms. Emmily" and turned to face her. She walked up to him and simply hugged him. He put his arms around her, squeezed her tight and lowered his head onto hers. She sighed.

      "If we were civilians and at least not in the same chain of command, this would be so simple."

      "I know but we are what we are."

      "For once, why don't we pretend you're not in my chain of command and simply be a man and woman who happen to be in love."

      "We can. We won't be the only ones using the casualty, by the way."

      ""If you're thinking of our First Officer and the lovely young Passed Midshipman then I'm in agreement."

      "I am and I applaud his delicacy in the way he actually treats her no different than any of the other crew."

      "Ms. Emily" knew of several others who were having cross rank relationships but that was medically privileged information and her CO didn't have need to know. He also knew of some in the same types of relationships but he knew in his personal capacity and not his official capacity and so he didn't tell himself what he knew...

      He could never have been a Borg; they gossiped too much...

      They entered his cabin and locked the door behind them. He helped her remove her uniform and she helped him remove his. There was another inspection port above his "cabin" and the "native" was looking through that. He rubbed her shoulders and then her breasts and then she rolled on top of him and the native left feeling a bit of guilt at "watching elders mate". The "natives" also enjoyed kissing and regarded female on top as the only form of acceptable mating.

      Eric and "Ms. Emily" had inadvertently proven to the "natives" that they were "people" and not some form of animal...

     

      Two days later, the New Planetary Survey body 114 (NPS-114) "colony" received a message from Star Fleet Exploration: "Abandon your post, remove all personal effects and take only what you need to carry. Leave the rest for any later follow on clean up crews. You are to meet StarFleet Engineering team 12 on Planetary Body G-117a and will receive further orders then."

      Eric responded with: "We have a lot of survival gear here and other items. The "natives" could easily penetrate this building. Do you wish to recind the orders preventing the proper securring of this facility?

      The answer was verbal, very snide and simply said: "You have your orders. We don't appreciate any criticism. Take only personal items amd Star Fleet critical items. Fleet Exploration out!"

      Eric not only saved that verbal message but included it as an attachment to his Movement Report to Fleet and his "abandoning station" report to Fleet and Star Fleet Exploration and the Federation Diplomatic staff and to his old friend, "John", who maintained an interest in the BERRY's activities. "John's" son, Data, was perpluxed by the while affair and had a number of discussions with his friends.

      Eric got on all communications channels: "We've been ordered to adandon this post. You have one hour to get your personal effects together. I'm going to have the BERRY land and we'll board through the sally ports. I don't want the natives to know about our transporters. We'll send as much personal items as we can via transporters and all critical effects. I want as many people as possible to carry their duffels and board through the sally ports. I want everyone to report their prepardiness to depart. Division officers, report to your Department Heads. Department Heads, report to my Second Officer. (A number of crewman wondered how their CO meant "my": was it the Royal "my" of a Captain or the personal "my" of a lover? But, ultimatly it didn't really matter and no one wasted much thought on it...

      There were 24 officers and crew who simply couldn't deal with walking across the surface of an alien planet, breathing alien air and in danger from unknown aliens. This was a strange attitude for Star Fleet officers but an accepted one. That these 24 included folks of three different "alien races" who had calmly dealt with aliens in space was seen as a quirk.

      One of the natives, looking through yet another removed inspection port, watched as "the Leader's Mate" caused three hands of her people to vanish. Two carried one of the "four legged masters each" and three each carried two of the "infant masters" each. Then, one of the 24 reappeared and a second reappeared. Boxes were placed on the "magic circles" and these itemsvanished into thin air. After a while, the "Leader's Mate" stood on one circle and vanished.Comparing reports later, an unseen "native" reported the "Leader's Mate" had appeared from nowhere and spoke with her mate, the Leader. Then, she walked back into their building.

     

      Three hours after receiving the recall message, Eric was standing on the green swarth looking towards the swamp. Not for the first time, he wondered why Star Fleet had insisted on removing the swamp from a hill, putting grass and a fortified builiding there and then decided to abaondon said base. Didn't they care what would happen after they left? He had already seen evidence that eatting grass caused wierd effects among some of the native vegetarians and the grass was slowly spreading into the swamp. On the other hand, creatures that looked like rabbits crossed with targs were eatting the grass as fast as they could. It might work our.

     

      Eric heard a sound behind him and turned unhuridly. A nicely dressed (in a manner of speaking) native stood there, making gestures and speaking. Eric didn't quite now how to respond; their Universal Translater hadn't worked for a while.

      Eric fell back onto the old standby: when in doubt, go with traditional. He braced himself to attention and gave a slow parade ground salute. His was the palm towards his face with the end of his middle finger touching the right side of right eyebrow and then was brought down slowly. (This was no "palm out" salute endemic to those who've lose wars!)

      The native tried returning his salute and it took Eric several minutes to get across the notions ofstanding at attention and how to do the salute. (He wasn't looking forward to what the Star Fleetexo-biologists would say. When the scathing report came to him - something about a "military barbarian militarizing innocent natives - Eric laughed and sent a reply of how the "natives must have seen My Marines". The irony was the accusation had come from members of five alien species including Humans, Andorians and a Klingon)

      The native wore a carved object on a leather cord around hi\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\54545454545454545454545454-0s neck. He took this off and placed itover Eric's neck. Eric realzied he had nothing of comparable worth and decided it was time to berid of this pseudo-K bar.

      He rolled back the sleve of his jacket, then carefully removed the knife from it's sheath andshaved a small amount of hair from his left arm (the traditional test of an edge). He presented the knife, handle first, to the native. (He didn't know this was seen as a gesture of great respect; hewas taught it in the Boy Scouts.) The native shaved some hair from his arm and went to returnthe knife to Eric. Eric removed the knife belt and holding it over his head, carefully brought itdonw the back of the native. He then spent several minutes adjusing the belt so it would fit overthe somewhat thiner native. He removed the sheath, blew any dust out of it and repositioned if onthe belt (over where the right kidney of a human would have been). Then, he carefully took the knife back from the native, blew the hair off the blade and very very carefully placed the knife into the sheth and fastended it. What he'd intended as a show of peaceful intent was read by thenatives as great respect.

      The native looked at Eric, pointed at him and his crew standing near their building and made a "person walking gesture" with his fingers.

      Eric nodded, pointed to himself and made a finger walking gesture, with his finger "walking up the sky". The native leader nodded in agreement. Then, Eric turned toward his people and yelled"bring the ship down and start loading troops through the sally ports".

      Moments later, with the last of the transporter activities completed, his personnel began leavingthe building. They carried their duffel bags and walked aboard, feeling somewhat silly.

      "Ms. Emmily" walked over to stand with Eric. That along cemented the belief that the alien leader's mate was his second in command and that males shared power with the females. Afemale native walked over to stand by the native leader. He pointed the index finger of one handat Eric and the index finger of the other hand at Emily and brought them together. After a minute,Emmily said "they think we're mated". Eric replied "we are". Then, she pointed an index finger atthe native female and an index finger at the native leader and brought the fingers together. Theyhad established communicastions.

      The natives moved to one side and "Ms. Emmily" and Eric walked to the grounded star ship andboarded through the forward sally port. The port was closed behind them, sealed and Eric went tothe bridge. "Ms. Emmily" (always the MD) went to sick bay to begin scanning the ship forevidence of medical problems or for "imported alien pests".

      A native standing on the roof of their abandoned building could see into the bridge.

      The native later reported that Eric had sat down in a large "chair" and spoke. He glanced at thetwo seated in front of him. They didn't hear him say "Status?" and didn't need to hear the replies that meant the USS EDWARD BERRY was ready to get underweight. They did note the"thumbs up" gesture each person gave Eric and sepnd many hours wondering about it's meaning;almost as many hours as they did the brace and salute. Finally, Eric responded with a "thumbsup" of his own and apparently said one short word ("lift"). The aliens in front of him(helm/operations and navigator/sensors) officers each (respectively) replied "lifting" and"underweight". It was obvious these aliens had been flying through the skies for a long time; theydidn't need to speak much to get much done.

     

      The natives explored their new building and were fascinated by the lights, the heating andcooling, the hot and cold water and the treasury of items left behind (such as survival knives, emergency rations and the "educational system". Later, when the follow on teams would arrive, they would find the Universal Translater had worked and the natives were receiving a fine education. They also refused to surrender the items left behind...

      The natives decided they wanted some "four legged masters" and asked the Federation Diplomatic Corps representatives. These Diplomats agreed immediately to furnish six healthymale cats and six healthy female cats. Had they been consulted, the Scientific Directorate wouldhave immediately said "No!" Had the Planetology Directorate been consulted, they would alsohave said "No!" Had basically anyone in the Federation Star Fleet Heirachy been consulted, they wouldhave vetoed the notion of putting house cats on an alien planet without exhaustive study (at leasta century worth) to determine any determintal effects.

      That would have been a good idea!

      The house cats killed enough species in the swamps as to force the "natives" out of the swamps.There, they and the cats adapted and evolved and some 90,000 years later a descendant species went "a Viking" among the stars. By that time, humans existed only in small enclaves in the Milky Way and largesettlements in other galaxies. Grandchild species of humans ruled the Milky Way and gave littlethought to the "new" natives and certainly didn't remember the Federation or it's influence onthe natives of  NPS-114.

      A vast number of humans had transcended and were giving the Q a run for their money...

      Aftgerward:In 2390, Sector Captain Eric Randall Bellingham was finishing up his day's work. He still worried about overworking and his staff had warned him 'it is time for you to knock off, Sir!"

      There was a knock on his door and it opened to reveal a very formally dressed young Klingon woman. She was wearing an almost traditional Kliongon Naval Uniform save that it completely lacked the cleageage revealing hole in the uniform. It was prudish considering the young woman who wore it. Actually, it would have been prudish considering who the young Klingon woman had been a mere 15 years before.

      "B'linna! I didn't know you were here!"

      Eric walked about his desk, walked up to the B'linna and placed his hands gently on both of her arms just above the elbow.

      He beamed at her; she looked very solumn and formal.

      "It is good to see you again, Sector Captain Bellingham."

      "Did I jsut hear your call me 'Sector Captain Bellingham', granddaughter?"

      "Yes, Sir, you did."

      "But wky?"

      "I have been instructed in proper behaviour and proper ediquite for Senior Officrs. Sir."

      Eric sighed.

      "It's been rough on you, hasn't it, little one? Did you come here under orders or to get away from orders?"

      "Yes, Sir."

      "What do you really want?"

      "I want success but I don't want to have to be so rigit. It doesn't seem right!"

      Eric yelled to his remaining staff member still in the outer office.

      "Larry Thomas, didn't Ambassadore Worf decide to go back to space for a while?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "Didn't we get a memo about staffing his crew?"

      "Yes, sir, I'm looking for that now. Ah, Worf wrote 'I need intelligent Klingons on my ship that I can trust. I want Klingons with a sense of duty, good work habits, high integrity, sobriety and a nice sense of humour. I've got five such crew members but need an offier like this.'"

      “Could you serve Work, son of Moog of the House of Martoc?"

      She nodded in agreement.

      "Worf spent a lot of time with the General at DS9 and got along well with him and I've met General Martoc and got along well with him."

      Eric's aide came in and waited till Eric noticed him.

      "I talked with Worf, suggested that B'linna, great-granddaugher of Wond, be assigned as a Helm officer. Worf agreed and wants to welcome her aboard when his vessel arrives in about an hour. Shall I tell him to expect you?" The aide was looking directly at Eric.

      "You may tell Worf that her grandfather, acting in loco parientis, approves this transfer."

      "The aide left and in the background, they could hear the conversation which ended with "I'll meet her at the bar, I need a large prune juice and a vodka chaser!"

      Eric looked at her; she was a foot taller than him.

      "Grand daugher, you'll have to bend over if you expect me to kiss your forehead."

      "B'linna did so and got kissed on the forehead. Then, they walked out. No one was around to notice or care that she "took his arm" and that the conversation quickly grew more annimated.

      When Worf arrived at the bar and after she was introduced, B'linna refered to Eric as "Grandfather Targ". Worf knews the origin of this nickname and assured B'linna she would have a place on his ship until she could transfer to his friend Captain Will Riker's ship.

      Perhaps Eric had learned someting about human (or Klingon) nature from serving on Wand's ship?

      After she left to attend to personal business, Worf spoke softly to Eric:

      “She is behaving in a very Klingon manner.”

      “Are you referring to her going to family for help when she was in trouble?”

      “Yes, I am. She is a fine girl and did well at the Klingon Self Defense Force Naval Academy but she is not a Klingon Warrior at heart. B’linna will do well on my ship for it may be staffed by Klingons but it really isn’t a Klingon ship. Then, after we arrange for her to go with Will, she can spend a very nice career in the Federation Fleet.”

      “Does she know that you, Will Riker and I knew each other at the Academy and that you served under Riker for nearly a decade?”

      “Does it matter, my friend? She will return to family, she will return to the safety of Star Fleet and she will serve her family, the Federation and even the Klingon Empire with Honor!”

      Warf paused and commented: “I need a real drink! Are you up for some of Captain Piccard’s red wine, Eric?”

      “Yes, I am.”

 

 

     

     

          New Plantary Servey

     

     +

---

^[1]   http://images.wikia.com/memoryalpha/en/images/thumb/f/fe/Targ.jpg/180px-Targ.jpg

^[2]   The officer’s dining room and general meeting room.