DISCLAIMER: Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. and CBS-Paramount Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. The original characters and events are the sole property of the author and may not be used without permission.

STAR TREK:

MISSING MAN

By Darrin Colbourne

Things had gotten so busy for her lately that Dr. Usma Narain rarely had time to get out of the office for lunch, so she took advantage of a visit by Admiral Edward Jellico to the UESPA's Stockholm headquarters. She invited him out for a working lunch at a nearby French restaurant where they could discuss the status of the Common Man Project over fine cuisine. "I can't believe how much progress we've made in such a short time," she said as they looked at their menus. "Our little fleet has already discovered seven new worlds populated by intelligent races and made contact in two of the cases.

Jellico smirked as he considered the entrees. "Neither contact scenario was all that elegant," he said.

"I think the crews of the Enterprise and the Constellation did very well given the circumstances."

Jellico raised an eyebrow as he looked up at her. "Have you been reading the same reports I have, Usma?"

"Edward, you said yourself that our people in the Deep Reconnaissance Group would have to rely on the resources available to them until we can find ways to make their mission easier. The fact that they managed to make contact at all is a wonderful achievement."

"Well, maybe, but I think we ought to issue a general 'Hands Off' order until we can come up with a First Contact procedure."

"Oh, I don't think we should do that. The Project is moving forward nicely as it is. I wouldn't want to micromanage it by coming up with a lot of restrictive protocols."

"I'm not talking about micromanaging anything. I just think we ought to hold off contacting these new races we're finding until we can do it with a minimum of fuss."

"You know as well as I do that we may never find a perfect way to contact new races."

"Probably not, but if we can start getting the humanoid probes out to the ships we might give them a better way to observe the new races on their home planets."

"Oh, that reminds me. I spoke to the representative in Chicago and he said that the first test model should be ready for delivery in about--"

She was interrupted by beeping sounds coming from both their digital assistants. They smiled at each other and took out the devices, then checked the text messages they'd received. Their faces fell as they read, then they traded astonished looks.

Jellico recovered first. "Let me handle this," he said as he dialed a number and put the device to his ear. "This is Jellico. Code the following message for dispatch to the group…"

Light-years away, it was dinnertime aboard the USS Enterprise. Captain Christopher Pike, Commander Mary McDonald and Lieutenant Commanders John Adams and Brigid Silas were having dinner in the Wardroom. "I still don't think you should have let her do it, Captain," she said. "She's probably down there right now plotting mutiny."

Pike chuckled. "That's why I let her do it, Brigid. A week or two traipsing around in the fresh air of Ceres Two should do wonders for her psyche…and make her less inclined to butt heads with us. In fact, once she and her people are done down there I'm planning to announce a general shore leave. I think we could all use a break."

"Well, it shouldn't take that long," Adams said as he cut into his steak, "not with the whole Science Department down there at one time."

"See? That's what I mean!" Silas said. "Suppose after a week or two on the surface they all get together and decide to go native and cast off all the trappings of the EEE-vil Military?" This caused general laughter in the room, and though Silas was laughing right along, she said, "I'm serious! I mean really, what's to stop them from taking potshots at us when we go down to pick them up?"

When he recovered, Pike said, "There's only a couple of dozen of 'em, Brigid, and we got all the spaceships. I think we can handle it."

"I dunno, Cap'n. I think they got all the big brains. What if they make some kind of Doomsday Machine out of their tri-corders and porta-johns?"

Everyone in the room broke up again at that. Commander McDonald was the first to recover. "Not to worry, Commander," she said, "if things get that serious we'll simply use you as a human shield."

Pike and Adams laughed harder and Silas looked at McDonald like she had two heads. "Me?? How come I get to be the human shield?!"

"No, wait," Adams said between guffaws, "that makes sense!"

"It does!" Pike said as he recovered from the laughing fit. "Think about it: there's only about three or four of us knuckle-draggers that Montoya actually likes."

"Exactly," McDonald said, "and since you seem to be…"

An alert from the intercom panel on the wall behind Pike interrupted McDonald. "Control to Captain Pike."

Pike reached back and touched a contact. "Pike here."

"Sir, we just received a 'Flash' message from Group."

"Very Well. Send it to my 'pad."

"Aye, Sir."

Pike released the contact and reached into a pants pocket for his datapad. The others went back to their meals in silence, but everyone was still smiling as they waited to resume the conversation after giving the Captain a chance to read the priority message. Only a second or two had passed before McDonald glanced back at Pike. That's when she noticed his smile had disappeared. "What is it?"

Pike simply handed her the 'pad and reached back to the intercom as she read. "Pike to Control. Sound Departure Stations!"

The Communications Officer on watch was on "Intercraft" a second later. "Now Hear This: All Hands to Departure Stations! Repeat: All Hands to Departure Stations! This is not a drill!"

Everyone in the Wardroom stood then. Pike got their attention before they could leave. "Brigid, I want two Workhorses brought to Plus-Five status. John, I need you to get a Damage Control team ready to embark on one of them ASAP. I'll explain why when I get to Control."

Both Adams and Silas responded with "Aye, Sir," and left the Wardroom.

McDonald handed Pike back his 'pad and said, "What about Montoya?"

Pike returned the device to his pocket and led McDonald out of the Wardroom. "I'll also deal with that when I get to Control."

It was early evening over the area of Ceres Two where the Enterprise's Science Department was encamped, a large clearing in one of the more temperate zones on the planet's Southern Hemisphere. The camp was made up of several prefabricated shelters and just plain old tents taken from the ship's stores. The weather around the camp was equivalent to late Spring on Earth, which was something Lieutenant Commander Isabel Montoya appreciated, because that and the absence of Starfleeters had given her a chance to relax the uniform restrictions her people had been forced to adhere to since reporting aboard. In the three days since they first set up camp it had gotten to the point where everyone had abandoned their Work Color shirts for the cooler - and less constricting - fleet-issue black undershirts, and the researchers who had long hair were able to let it hang loose. Montoya's reached all the way to the small of her back. She grinned the day she let it out. It had felt like ages since she'd been able to enjoy the sensation for longer than it took to shower and dress.

This evening she was returning from a sojourn into the surrounding forest to the two-person shelter she was sharing with Lieutenant Gwendolyn Flores. Her friend was sitting cross-legged on her cot, working on her laptop computer and eating dinner. "I got something for you, too," she said without looking away from the computer screen.

Montoya looked at her cot. Resting on it was a rectangular box about the size of Flores's laptop. She read the label on top:

U.E.S.L.F.

BASIC FIELD

RATION SET C

BEEF DINNER

Her mouth twisted up. "No more Turkey?"

Flores smiled and raised a sporkful of gray matter in triumph. "Got the last one," she said, then she took the gray matter into her mouth and said after she started chewing, "Of course, we didn't bring all that many to begin with. The way I hear it, Starfleet orders these things according to the Landers' preferences. I guess the Landing Force loves its Steak and Taters. Personally, I don't see why it matters. It's all processed from the same soy products anyway."

Montoya sat down on her cot with a sigh. "Adapt or perish, I suppose."

Flores turned to her and smiled. "Yep. That's the First Rule of Evolution. Actually, it's the only Rule of Evolution."

"It's also an unavoidable necessity when serving in an organization overrun with North Americans," Montoya said, then she looked up from the meal and offered Flores a smile. "No offense."

Flores, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York, smiled back. "None taken." She went back to her computer. "I know what you mean. One of the things I miss most about Stockholm is the food."

"It's more than just the food. I know Starfleet is modeled mostly on the old U.S. Navy, but it's like the people who created it wanted to include every aspect of that Navy they could think of whether it was useful or not, including some of the most baffling jargon." She turned back to her meal and popped the enclosed box drink out of its recess on the left side, then held it up for Flores to see. "For example, I cannot for the life of me understand why they insist on calling fruit drinks 'Bug Juice.'"

Flores looked at it for a moment, then shrugged. "Beats me. They gotta call it something." She suddenly put on a wicked grin. "Maybe 'United Earth Starfleet Processed Artificial Fruit Beverage Formula Number 14-X' takes too long to say."

Montoya doubled over with laughter as Flores went back to her meal and her work, still smiling. When she recovered, Montoya popped the small rectangular spork from the right side of the meal box, then she slid off the label and looked for right contact on the plastic casing. She pressed it and waited for the integral heating element to do its job. Thirty seconds later she opened the box, revealing a stucco panel of processed food. The large brown square in the middle was supposed to be steak, the medium-sized white square on the right potatoes, the smallish green square on the top left the "vegetable" and the tiny dark brown square on the bottom left the "brownie."

Montoya sighed again. "Of course, I shouldn't be surprised what they call fruit drink when you consider that they call this stuff 'food.'"

"This isn't food," Flores said, pointing at her meal with her spork. "This is just enough proteins, carbohydrates, vitamins and minerals to keep you from dying of starvation…with artificial flavoring, of course."

"Of course. And is it just me, or does it seem strange that microwave technology has advanced to the point where you can safely heat a meal in your lap, but it didn't occur to anybody to find a way to make the meal worth heating up?"

Flores smirked. "There's definitely a misplaced priority there somewhere." Then she got serious. "Did you see the cave?"

"Yes. It was one of the things Greer showed me. You were right. It's enormous."

"It's also a pretty decent hike from here. If we want to take a look at what's inside we might have to ask for the use of a transport after all."

Montoya grimaced. "I was hoping to keep the Starfleeters' presence down to a minimum this time around. Are you sure it's important?"

Flores turned to her. "Well, like I was telling you, the local fauna seem to be…"

She was interrupted by a beep from Montoya's field radio. "Enterprise to Montoya," Captain Pike's voice said a second later.

Montoya unclipped the device from her belt and activated it. "Montoya here. I'm glad you called, Captain. We were just talking about…"

"Just let me talk, Montoya. We're leaving. I'm sending a transport down--"

Montoya frowned. "Captain! You promised me that I'd have at least a week to do my job without interference!"

"Let me finish, Commander! One of our spacecraft is missing. The details are in a Flash message I just sent to your 'pad. I'm taking Enterprise to lend a hand in the Search and Rescue operation."

Montoya couldn't think of anything to say for a few moments, then said softly, "It will take hours for us to break camp."

"I know that, Montoya. Don't bother. I'm sending a transport with some supplies and a squad of Landers to reinforce your shore party. I wish I could send you some corpsmen as well, but we may need all the medical personnel we can lay our hands on when we get to the scene. Enterprise will depart as soon as the transport is underway. Hopefully we won't be gone long, but until we return you're on your own. Keep doing your job. That way we'll be sure of how to find you when we get back. Pike out."

Montoya turned off the radio and put it aside, then took out her datapad. Flores came over as she accessed the message. "Did he say we lost a spacecraft?" Flores said.

Montoya skimmed down to the first paragraph of the message:

1. AS OF 17DEC2266 AT 0430HRS USS INDEPENDENCE (NCC-1712) HAS FAILED TO REPORT AND IS LISTED AS "MISSING." LAST CONTACT WAS ON 15DEC2266 AT 0430HRS. INDEPENDENCE REPORTED CONCLUDING OPERATIONS IN AOR5 AND PROCEEDING TO AOR6 IN OPAREA PA-7.

2. USS ENTERPRISE, HORNET AND KITTY HAWK WILL PROCEED TO OPAREA PA-7 AND COMMENCE CSAR OPERATIONS. ALL OTHER SHIPS WILL STAND BY AND PREPARE TO LEND ASSISTANCE. ALL SHIPS ON CSAR DUTY WILL REPORT TO CPT. PIKE.

"That's what he said," Montoya said softly. She put the 'pad on her cot and stared into space for a few moments.

"Well, what do we do?" Flores said.

Montoya couldn't answer immediately. Her thoughts were with the Science team aboard Independence. Right now she wanted more than anything to join the search, but speed was paramount in this situation and, as such, she was stuck on the sidelines through no one's fault but her own. Ultimately, she took a deep, calming breath and turned back to her dinner. "We do what Captain Pike said," she said, "continue our work here. We have enough supplies right now to last for another three days. We'll see what else the transport is bringing us and we'll have a ship to get us to that cave of yours." With that she started eating, even though she'd lost her appetite. Flores just sat down next to her, lost in thought.