Chapter 2

Personal Log, Lt. Lindsey Lander; stardate 57012.2: Contrary to my bad feelings the Orion's mission has gone as quietly as expected. For the past six weeks we have been traveling along the Federation side of the Neutral Zone, visiting different Federation outstations as well as the communities of our allies and trade partners.

Henry has adjusted quite well to life on the Orion. He has made quick friends with many members of the crew from all departments. It is good to have an old friend on board.

I am dictating this log entry from sick bay. It appears that I have contracted a virus of sorts on my last planet side away mission. Dr. Randel is preforming tests to gage the risk of spreading the virus and to determine the best treatment. I hope to be released soon, but it is good to see an empty sick bay.

"Everything seems fine, Lieutenant," said Doctor Thomas Randel, Chief Medical Officer on the Orion. "Your fever is gone, and the virus has been removed from your system."

"Then why do I still feel weak?" asked Lindsey.

"Because you had a rather serious virus. It was nothing we couldn't handle, but you endured it for a couple days before reporting to sick bay. It took a lot out of you. I am recommending to the Captain that you only be assigned to light duty for a couple days. By then you will be feeling one hundred percent." Then Dr. Randel turned to her and gave her his best 'doctor scowl.' "But next time don't wait until you must come. I expect you to come and see me sooner. If you officers don't take care of yourselves, how are you supposed to take care of the crew?"

"Yes, Doctor, I will keep that in mind. And thank you." Lindsey swung her legs off the examination bed and on to the ground. As she did so she felt a dizziness in her head. "Whoa."

"Like I said, take it easy."

"Alright, Doctor."

At that moment, Henry walked into sick bay and with faked formality he announced, "Lieutenant Henry Hickensen, reporting in. His mission: to make sure Lieutenant Lindsey Lander takes it easy."

"Oh no," sighed Lindsey.

"Oh, come on! I just came to check on you. I overheard you and the doctor, and I thought I could help. I am on lunch break, and I thought you could join me."

"I better report for duty first."

"Negative, Lieutenant," said the doctor. "Getting something to eat is the best thing for you now. Report for duty after lunch. That's an order, Lieutenant."

"Alright, I'll get lunch." Lindsey thanked the doctor and then walked alongside Henry as they went to the mess hall. "How's the transition to the Orion going?"

"It's going well," answered Henry. "I have been trying to meet as many different people in as many different divisions as possible."

"Still the social butterfly," Lindsey shook her head. "How's that been going for you?"

"The Orion's crew is very interesting. Everyone here either has less than five years' experience or over fifteen. There's no in-between."

They had just arrived at the mess hall, and Henry led Lindsey to a table. "The Orion has become a training ground for young officers," Lindsey said as Henry pulled out a chair for her. "They have placed some of the more experienced officers here in order to transition people like you and I from the Academy to service on board a real starship."

"That explains a lot. Some of the junior officers on board seem a bit skittish. Like Selina. I am sure she's a fine officer, she just needs a little confidence. And Ryan is talented enough to be the main helmsman, if only he would believe that and assert himself every now and then."

"Ensigns Selina Chaput and Luke Ryan are fine. They are only one year out of the Academy. They will learn the confidence they need." Lindsey took a long look at Lt. Hickensen. "Why are you analyzing the crew? You're acting like a first officer."

Henry laughed, "Well, we are the most senior 'junior' officers on board. If there is a middle ground, it's us. You are four years out of the Academy and I am five. We are full lieutenants, while most everyone else is either an ensign or lieutenant junior grade."

"And that gives us responsibility?"

"Just a bit, but that's what being an officer is all about, responsibility. If we don't show we're capable of responsibility, then no one will ever give us any. It's what we signed up for."

At that moment, a tall, broad shouldered man with an apron and a chef's hat approached. "Hello Lindsey. Good to see you out of sick bay."

"Good to be out of there. What is for lunch today, Chef?"

"Hot pork sandwiches with mash potatoes." He set down two trays.

"Excellent," said Lindsey before turning to Henry. "Chef Matthews here makes the best potatoes in Starfleet.

"I don't believe we've met, Lieutenant," said Chef Matthews. "I am Richard Matthews. I oversee the mess hall."

"It is good to meet the man who feeds me," said Henry. "I am Henry Hickensen. I just transferred to the Orion." Henry sampled potatoes from his tray. "Hey, these are good. Do you have a secret replicator setting?"

"No, the secret is that I don't replicate the potatoes. I have an arrangement with hydroponics. The grow the potatoes. Then I season and bake them myself."

"That's a lot of extra work!"

"I don't mind it. They would be even better if I could get potatoes grown planet side. But such is the life of a Starfleet cook. Enjoy your lunch."

Henry watched as the man walked away. "I love meeting new people, especially when they cook for me."

"Why am I not surprised?" But Henry had a funny look on his face, so Lindsey asked, "What is it?"

"What did you say his name was?"

"Richard Matthews, but most of us call him 'Chef.' He actually has a culinary degree."

"Richard Matthews? Lieutenant Richard Matthews?"

"No, he's a civilian, not a Starfleet officer."

"No, it's him. I remember him from the Academy."

"He wasn't at the Academy."

"No, not when we were there. He was before us. He was a security officer. I remember studying about a Lt. Richard Matthews in one of my elective classes. This guy looks just like the holodeck simulation, and he has the same name."

Lindsey looked at Matthews and then back at Henry, "Chef! A security officer! I don't believe it."

"He was a junior officer on board the Frederickson during the Dominion War. His starship was overrun by the Jem'Hadar. He and his team lost communication with the bridge and the rest of the security personnel, and they were forced to defend Engineering by themselves. He led them with brilliant battle strategy, as well as killing many Jem'Hadar himself. And the Jem'Hadar are said to be the greatest warriors the Federation has ever encountered except perhaps the Klingons. He was awarded various metals and commendations for his role."

"If Chef is this Lt. Matthews you are referring to, why would he be a cook on board the Orion?"

"I don't know, but I'd like to find out."

"Hold on a second. I might be about to find out more," said Lindsey as she called out to a passerby. "Frank, join us."

A short but well-built officer in a yellow Starfleet uniform turned and came to them. "Lindsey, I heard you were in sick bay. Are you feeling alright?"

"Alright, but not great. Please join us." The man sat down as Lindsey handled introductions. "Frank, this is Lt. Henry Hickensen. Henry, this is Lt. Grant. He is one of the security officers on the Orion."

Henry extended his hand, "Lt. Grant?" The man nodded his head, but Henry questioned again. "Lt. Ulysses Grant?"

"Yes, that's me. How do you know my name?"

"I have spent the last couple of weeks trying to meet different people on board the starship. I have an interest in security, so I looked up the head officers."

"Lt. Hickensen here took a number of security elective courses at the Academy," added Lindsey.

"Is that so? Are you building a backup plan in case being a bridge officer doesn't work out?"

"Perhaps," Henry paused. "But I have a burning question for you."

"Yes, Henry was wondering about…" began Lindsey but Henry suddenly cut her off.

"Are you aware that you have the same name as a famous general from Earth history?"

"Yes, I am," said Lt. Grant as he nodded his head.

"You get that a lot, don't you?" asked Henry.

"Yes, I do. And not just a general. Did you know that General Ulysses S. Grant was also president of his nation-state after its civil war was ended?"

"I did not," said Henry. "Why does Lindsey call you Frank?"

"My full name is Ulysses Francis Grant. Ulysses is not easily shorten, and I do get tired of everyone thinking of the Earth general; so Frank suits me well."

"Well, at least Starfleet doesn't use the rank of general. It would truly be confusing if you ever received that promotion."

"I guess that's a comfort."

"Okay," said Lindsey. "How about the other burning question? Frank, did Chef every serve as a security officer?"

Frank froze for a second, then he sighed as he slowly came up with an answer. "Yes, Chef was a security officer."

"So, he is the Lt. Richard Matthews," said Henry excitedly.

"Yes, he is," said Frank with a 'calm down' gesture of his hands. "But don't spread that information."

"Why not?" said Henry, still excited but a bit quieter. "We have an authentic war hero on board."

"Chef doesn't want it known. I don't think he likes to talk about it. And I don't blame him. If one has to fight the Jem'Hadar, then it is probably not a pleasant experience."

"I see," said Henry. "Well, I guess I can respect that. I have always wanted to meet some of the people I studied about in the Academy. I just never imagined that one of them would be cooking me lunch."

"You and me both," said Frank. "If you will excuse me, I need to get some food of my own. It was a pleasure meeting you, Lt. Hickensen. And it is good to see you healthy, Lindsey." Frank stood up and gave a slight nod of the head as he left their table.

"I suppose it's time for us to report back to duty," said Lindsey.

"Not until you finish your lunch," answered Henry. "Doctor's orders."

"Captain, we are arriving at Outpost Beta-Gamma."

"Drop to impulse and bring us in, Ensign." Captain Taylor was sitting comfortably in her captain's chair. Outpost Beta-Gamma was on a small planet that barely classified as class M. The planet was otherwise livable except its lack of water. Water producing implements and large underground reserves kept the crew hydrated.

The only reason Starfleet had a crew there was to keep an eye on the Neutral Zone. Its location was perfect for a sensor station. The Romulans were not happy about the station's presence, but it did not violate the treaty between them and the Federation.

The Orion was coming to the station on an emergency call. The call had said that the hydrators on the station has stopped functioning, and the crew lacked the heavy-duty replicators to make replacement parts. The Orion was to deliver the parts they needed. But Captain Taylor's secret mission was to deliver new sensor packages with new designs that were in theory capable of finding cloaked Romulan vessels. These upgrades were hidden among the regular supplies. The Captain had also decided to include a few new holodeck programs, so that the crew there would have something else to do besides staring into a region of space that is supposed to be empty of activity.

"Helm, bring us into a geosynchronous orbit above the station. Communications, open a channel."

The communications officer nodded at Captain Taylor, as the image of the outpost commander appeared on screen. The commander was a Vulcan male wearing a blue science uniform. He stood perfectly at attention, as did most Vulcans that Captain Taylor had encountered. "Welcome Captain Taylor to Beta-Gamma. Your presence here is appreciated. My crew tells me that the water from our reserve tanks is beginning to taste a little stale."

"Thank you for the welcome, Lieutenant Commander Sapik. At least you got the opportunity to flush out the tanks a bit. I hope the delay didn't cause too many inconveniences."

"Not at all, Captain. We had to initiate a few conservation techniques, but we are prepared for such possibilities."

"We will be in orbit soon, then we can begin the transfer of parts. I will transport some of my officers down to help organize it."

"Understood, Captain."

"Subcommander!" shouted one of the bridge officers. "A Federation vessel has just dropped out of warp."

The Romulan subcommander stood up from his first officer's chair. "Which one? The Titan?"

"No…it's called the Orion."

"Never heard of it. What class?"

"Ambassador class, sir."

"I didn't think Starfleet keep such old ships in service," said the subcommander. "It shouldn't be a problem."

"Any ship with a long-range transmitter is a problem, Subcommander." A tall Romulan emerged from the captain's quarters.

"Colonel on the bridge!" shouted a centurion.

"As you were," said Colonel Gaiath as he sat in his captain's chair. "Subcommander, send a message to our teams to stand by. We will not attack while the Orion is here. We cannot risk them getting a message off to Starfleet."

"How long must we wait?"

"Hours, days, weeks; we wait until the Orion is gone."