Like So Many Memories

by mirwalker

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this story in the late 1980s as a means of explaining, in narrative fiction, the change in status of a Star Trek fan club in which I was involved in high school. For a variety of reasons, mostly an increase in membership, our local chapter (or "ship"), the Viking, was upgraded within the international organization. This involved a change in name (to a new, larger "ship," the Citadel), as well as some crew changes as some members left the chapter during the transition. We had all maintained some fictional character personae as part of our involvement; this story explained the changes from within the universe of those characters. This story is dedicated to the many good people and friends from the Viking and Citadel years.

Earlier generations described the stars as "twinkling"; but it was a proven fact that the stars shone constantly; the "twinkling" was simply atmospheric refraction.

Lieutenant Commander Ed Gosnell, Acting Commanding Officer and Chief of Operations aboard the Federation starship USS Viking, was not watching the stars. He was staring blankly at the "twinkling" displays at the ever-active Science station. On and off, on and off, continuing to scan the edge of the Triangle as they had been for two long, uneventful weeks. What he wouldn't give for a little excitement.

Wish granted...

"Commander," cried the Klingon at the Tactics station, "sensors showing a small object emerging from Klingon space into the Triangle. Wait... It is now heading for the Federation border."

Snapped to alertness, the Acting Commanding Officer whirled to face his Chief of Security. "Can you identify or classify it, Mr. Kraal?"

"No, sir," replied the stoic Lieutenant. "It is not very large --slightly smaller than one of our probes. It does not, however, conform to any known probe configuration."

"Hypothesis, Lieutenant?"

Without looking up from his console, the Klingon responded, "It could be some type of new Klingon probe; but it doesn't look like any Klin designs I've ever seen."

Suddenly active like the rest of the bridge crew, Chief of Sciences David Robinson added, "It is emitting sensory-type waves. I believe it is scanning..."

"...Or running!" shouted Kraal. "A Klingon L-24 Battleship and one D-7S Cruiser passing Klingon border, and are following probe's course. They are scanning it heavily." The first hint of his fierce warrior emotions gleamed through the Klingon's StarFleet Training.

"Targeting it?" queried the CO.

"I don't believe so. They would have set an intercept course. They are merely observing… for the moment."

The bridge fell quiet as everyone contemplated the explanations of and repercussions to this scenario. The possibilities were too grave for Lieutenant Commander Gosnell's liking. "General Quarters. Mr. Qosa, get Captain Fletcher up here now."

The young Chief of Communications hesitated, unhappy with his only response, "I can't, sir. Both he and Executive Officer Howard were confined to quarters by Chief Medical Officer Beulow. He had to give them both tranquilizers to make them rest; they're out cold."

"They picked a great time to catch Thelusian flu. Try anyway."

"Aye, sir."

Tactics spoke up again, "Another course change. The probe is now heading almost directly for us."

"Mr. Robinson," hurried the Operations Chief, obviously uncomfortable in the command chair, "does it appear to have changed..."

The roar came from Tactical: "Sir, Klingons have matched the probe's change. They have detected us. Their weapons are armed."

Training took over, somewhat relieving the Commander. "Yellow Alert. Raise shields. Do NOT arm weapons."

"Klingons closing. All decks report 'Yellow Alert, Aye.'"

"Communications, scramble a message to StarFleet Command: `Unidentified probe entering Federation from Klingon Empire. An L-24 and a D-7S, both weapons-ready, are following. Viking will capture probe and expel Klingons pending further orders. Gosnell.' And step on it Commander!

"Engineering?"

"Steedley here, sir," replied the Chief Engineer.

"We may need weapons and warp power any time now."

"We're ready when you are, Commander." Her voice clearly conveyed her confidence in her systems.

"Mr. Kraal, status?"

"Klingons and probe closing. 20,000 kilometers. Cruisers are now crossing Federation border."

"Mr. Qosa, signal Klingons: `This is Lieutenant Commander Ed Gosnell, USS Viking. You are in violation of Federation space. If you do not reverse course immediately...' "

"Sir," cried Sciences, "the probe is turning away from us, toward the Banipan System and Starbase 119."

Tactics added, "The D-7 is bearing off to follow. The Battleship is holding position just inside the border."

"Go to Red Alert. Intercept Cruiser One; get the weapons up. Mr. Qosa, alert StarFleet Command. Request assistance. We're no match for that Ever-Victorious."

"Aye, sir. Engineering reports weapons and warp at our signal."

Meanwhile, the Klingon's hands flew over the weapons console, powering up, locking on and double-checking everything. He was perhaps the only crewmember truly hoping for some resistance from the Klingons. "Cruiser One is slowing, scanning both the probe and us; but it is not turning away."

"Suggest that it should, Mr. Kraal."

Even before his orders were complete, the firing sequence was. A low power phaser came close to singeing a stripe across the Klingon bow.

"A little close don't you think, Lieutenant?" prodded the Ops Chief.

"My finger... slipped," came the smug reply.

"So noted." A slight glow on the viewscreen killed the mood of the friendly exchange. "Tractor beam?"

"Yes, sir," answered Lieutenant Robinson, bent over his sensors, involved in his scrutiny. "They have locked onto the probe, and are diverting power to engines, rear shields and aft torpedo bays. Forward shields and weapons are powering down.

"The L-24 has cloaked. Cruiser One is turning toward the border, probe in tow."

"Sir," sang Communications, "there is heavy exchange between ships."

"Jam it, Mr. Qosa.

"Tactical, get that tractor beam off. Garin, tell them that if they let go of the probe, they are free to go."

"Aye, air." Seconds passed; but, "Nothing."

The momentum, momentarily halted, let loose.

"Cruiser one is continuing, picking up speed."

"...Fire."

"Torps away." The display at Tactical radiated red. "Direct hits. No structural damage; shook them up, though."

At Sciences, another glow faded. "Tractor beam off. Engine power increasing," cried the Station Chief. "Weapons bloom!"

"Evasive." calmly ordered the Command chair.

The crew instinctively braced, except Tactics, who chuckled and took his hand off the `launch' button. "Torpedo destroyed, sir. Cruiser One fleeing across the border now, at high warp speed."

Gosnell drooped his head and exhaled. "Yellow alert. Leave the shields up. Mr. Robinson, any sign of the L-24?"

"No sir. But I doubt that she'll stay in Federation space long without the smaller ship."

"And the probe?"

"Maintaining the Cruiser's course at 3/4 impulse. Wait... Changing to parallel with border."

"Helm, lay in an intercept course." As Gosnell passed over to Sciences, "Mr. Steedley, we need that tractor beam."

"Ready, sir." The confidence had only strengthened.

"Activate it, Mr. Kraal. Grab that probe."

"Aye, sir," acknowledged the beaming Klingon.

Now at Sciences, the Second Officer tried to answer some questions using questions. "Mr. Robinson, where is that probe headed? Where did it come from? And is it dangerous?"

When there aren't any answers, a best guess will usually suffice. "I don't know. Not yet," exclaimed the Chief of Sciences. "Once we get a closer look at that probe and have time to study it, I can answer you. I need time." By the strained look on Gosnell's face, Robinson easily deduced that a better answer was required... now.

"I have no reason to believe that it is dangerous. It has been scanning constantly and showed no response to the recent activity around it. From preliminary scans, it's obviously not Federation or ally, and does not appear to be Klingon or Romulan. As to its course, I can't find one. The only pattern in its navigation has been an apparently random course modification at regular intervals since we first picked it up." No change on the face.

"As I said before, sir, I'll know more once we've had a closer look." Relief...

"We have the probe, sir," called Tactical.

"Excuse me, Commander. I have work to do now." With that, Robinson turned back to his instruments, happy to be working rather than talking.

Gosnell, also more at ease with the probe in their control, began the hardest part of the fight yet. Not against the Klingons, but against mystery. "Communications, re-advise Command: `We have captured probe and are studying. Klingons have been evicted with minimal force. Will continue patrol pending orders. Gosnell.' Rosecrypt it."

"Going out now, sir."

"Mr. Robinson, any reason not to bring it aboard for further study?"

"None that I can see, sir."

"Mr. Kraal, any objections?"

"No sir. But we should keep it isolated, just in case."

"Agreed," chimed Robinson.

"Engineering, this is Commander Gosnell."

"Ensign Thuul here, sir." replied the Deputy Chief Engineer.

"How would you and Chief Steedley like to take a closer look at this probe, first hand?"

"Steedley here. We'd love to. But I think we need to be careful."

"Mr. Robinson and Mr. Kraal agree. They suggest isolation."

"We have a repair shop around the corner that we can cut off from ship's systems."

"Very well. Mr. Robinson, you, Mr. Kraal and Engineering handle this personally."

"Aye, sir."

As the two officers headed for the turbolift, Gosnell set about restoring order to his bridge. "Mr. Qosa, get replacement officers up here; and kill the Alert lights. You have the Conn."

And as the Communications Chief paged alternate personnel to the now vacant stations, Gosnell `stepped outside.' Even on border patrol --especially on border patrol, nature calls.

Aboard his cloaked flagship, the K'Tahdin (or Master of Dreams), Klingon Force Admiral Kaa'Rach epetai-Volkarr considered the situation before him. That coward Captain Kamraa, who fled from the Federation survey ship, would be dealt with later; but now his attention was focused on that same Pleiades class starship.

The foolish humans had taken the "Demon's" device on board; and he wished to see what the antique would do. He had intended to let Kamraa take it in, to risk Kamraa's (worthless) hide on investigating the enemy probe; now the Viking would suffice. He needed only to follow unseen, and watch.