Act 1

Two months later….

"Captain Lillian Traz," Admiral Nechayev said, the screen showing her face perfectly. "I want to congratulate you."

"Admiral?" the thirty-seven year old captain asked. She had out of the blue gotten a priority message from Starfleet, which generally didn't happen to her. Her ship was not exactly the Enterprise.

"The Captain of the Jonestown was wounded in battle with the Borg during the Battle of Vulcan and is retiring," the Admiral said. "He has requested your First Officer replace him."

"Commander Mead has been itching for the chance to get a ship of her own," Traz replied, "I will pass along the offer, but I do not suspect she will have any objections."

"You have a record amount of First Officers that are requested to take over ships when their captains are leaving," the Admiral mused. "It's at what, seven so far?"

"Eight actually," Traz corrected.

"What is your secret?" the Admiral asked.

"It's quiet simple ma'am," the Captain said with a disarming smile. "A good mixture of motherly advice and Starfleet regulations will do that for a person."

The Admiral laughed, her crisp voice sounding commanding even as she laughed. Traz liked Nechayev, a woman of pure business and didn't need to be told her duty. She hoped she could be like that someday, perhaps without the reputation of ice that had grown around the other woman.

"Sector Admiral Davees will be rendezvousing with you in three days and he will be informing Commander Mead of her assignment," the Admiral informed her. "He'll also be giving you the current list of eligible officers to be your new second-in-command."

"Understood, Admiral," Traz said and with that, they communication ended.

Traz stared at the black screen for a few seconds. She was a 37-year-old Betazoid, having grown up with humans her entire life, as her adopted parents were from Luna Colony. She didn't need her telepathic powers, which were undeveloped for the most part, to read how her First Officer would react to news of the offer. She did have a good record of getting officers into commands of their own. However, just once, she wished these first officers lasted more than a year.

With a sigh, she tapped the commbadge on her chest. Well, there was no use putting it off.

Admiral Davees had a face that screamed that he hadn't been loved as a child. It drooped from both sides with more then enough extra skin that one could make a face-mask out of it. Combine that with the massive paunch that threatened to breakout of his dress tunic, the newer uniform of gold pauldrons sewn into a red command vest and he looked like a human elderly-Ferengi. He rested in the chair opposite the desk that Captain Traz sat at, a broad grin on his face.

"Well my dear," he said affably. "It has been far too long since we last talked."

"Indeed, Admiral," she said genially back. "Not since I graduated from the Academy."

The older man nodded his head. "You were the brightest cadet I ever had the pleasure of seeing graduate," he said with a satisfied sigh. "Not the top of your class but by far the brightest. Pushing the boundaries of acceptability, but not in the worst way. And you have produced excellent first officers who have served as good captains. You must be very proud."

"Thank you, sir," Traz replied, although she didn't feel quiet as happy at the compliment. "I hope that all my officers show just as much promise as my first officers."

The Admiral didn't realize that she had become defensive as if implying her other officers weren't up to the same quality as her first officers. He waved his hand vaguely in agreement. He pulled out a data PADD and placed it on the desk, pushing across to her. She picked it up, and saw a long list of Commander who were ready replacements.

"The list of a dozen officers that are all ready to make you good first officers," he said, "I've arraigned them with the ones I feel would serve you best at the top of the list. Very good records and good service."

"Commander Jennifer Pennyworth of the Offspring," she said, reading them aloud, "Terry Breaks of the Farpoint. Dax Verry of the Outpost. These are the ones you feel are the very best for my ship?"

The Admiral nodded, a broad smile on his face. "You may choose someone else on the list, of course, but as you know, the better the record, the better they are able to serve," Davees said.

She nodded as Davees stood up. "It was good to see you Captain," he said with his broad smile stuck on his face, "Now, if you will excuse me, I must brief your First Officer on her new assignment. I'll be leaving tomorrow, so let me know by 0830 hours of your selection."

"Very good, sir," she said, standing up as he did. "I am also glad that we were able to speak. I promise you I will have my selection by tomorrow."

"We have Borg on all decks," the Tactical officer shouted from his console. "Heavy fighting reported, but our crew is giving ground pretty fast."

"We might have to separate the saucer section from the main hull," the Captain said. Enviro could hear the edge in the Captain's voice and turning to him, saw the sweat that was beginning to fall from the other man's impeccably cut grey hair. "I want the option."

"Sir," James said, "I believe that if we were to send out a blast of white noise, it would hold back the Borg, perhaps severing their connection to the Borg sphere and their adaptive capabilities."

"I like that idea!" The Captain slapped the comm button and they heard it chirping. "Bridge to Engineering. Engineering, respond!"

"Engineering has been overrun!" a very haggard voice of the Chief Engineer shouted back. "We fought as hard as we could but we weren't able to hold onto…no….No….Stay away from….ARGH!"

"Mr. White?" The Captain inquired, repeating the words when no response was forthcoming. "Respond!"

James lowered his head into his hands and wiped the tips of his fingers hard against his eyes. It was so difficult not to have these flashbacks to that disastrous day. Every hour it seemed he was visited by those blasted images!

The Perspective was a Himalaya-Class Heavy Cruiser, with a crew compliment of 568. They had gone to Betazed with 560….and by the time they had escaped, only twelve had been left unassimilated or dead. The ship had been shattered, and what was left had been torn apart and shelled out to other Himalayas that needed refits. The Sphere had been destroyed, but not before taking out three Starfleet vessels and gutting most of Starbase 19.

However, James Enviro was doing well. He didn't care that he kept getting flashed with images of that dreadful day, he was fine! He wasn't going to tell those stuffy councilors about these! They were merely memories, nothing to cause them to pyscho-babble an analysis about how he had a fractured mind or some other nonsense.

"Jimmy!" a woman's voice called out and he looked up, a smile breaking over his face. He stood up and taking three steps forward, threw his arms around the woman who had come running up to him. She stood a head shorter then he did, which was fine. He closed his eyes and breathed in the earthy scent of her dark hair, which was tied into an elaborate bun on the back of her head.

"Thanks for coming," he said, leading her to the bench he had been sitting on. "I wasn't sure you were going to come, Leslie."

"I will always come for you," she said with a smile, allowing herself to be pulled down. "So, what is it, love?"

"I have wonderful news!" he said excitedly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" she asked.

"Yeah!" he said, handing her the PADD that he had been reading. "Read this!"

She took the Padd with a confused look. She began to read, and James could feel himself on the edge of his seat. He was so excited, not sure he could contain himself any longer. She kept reading, her own smile dropping slowly as she read the words, turning into a frown. Yet his expectations were high, they were in love, and she would be able to join him on the ship!

She finished reading and looked up at him. "What is this?" she finally asked, her voice hard.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked laughing, mistaking her question as a joke. "I've been offered a position as First Officer. In three days the Wayne will show up here and pick us up. That's right! I want you to come with me! We will explore the…."

"You can't accept it," she said, almost too soft to hear.

The glee in the Lt. Commander died out. "What?" he asked with a small giggle.

"Every time you go out to space it always ends in disaster," Leslie said, shaking her head. "Turn down the promotion and stay here on Earth with me!"

James wasn't sure he was hearing correctly. He was a Starfleet Officer. He had been since he joined the Academy at 18. For fifteen years he had served faithfully. He enjoyed being in Starfleet, no matter the risks involved.

"I've already sent my acceptance to the offer," he said. Leslie stared at him in amazement. Then, she stood and began to walk away. "Wait!" he called out, confused by this reaction. "Leslie, what are you doing? Where are you going?" He caught up to her and grabbed her by the arm. "What is it?"

"What is the matter?" she asked as if he were being stupid. "This is the matter!"

She waved her hand all around, as if encompassing James in a magical wave. "You nearly died! You had the Borg all over you! It's a miracle you even survived and you want to go back out there? DO you have a death wish, James Enviro?"

"You know full well the price that we might be called on to make," James remarked, surprised by this emotional response. "In Starfleet we…."

"You are in Starfleet, I am not!" she retorted. "Look, I can't go through this again. Twice now I've nearly lost you. It tears me up so much and you don't seem to care. I'm sorry, but choose me or this assignment. You can't have both."

"But I do…." James said although he wasn't sure what he was going to actually say. But the hesitation was all Leslie needed. Tears streamed from her eyes as she tore from his grasp and ran away from him, leaving him standing like a fool, not knowing what had just happened.

"Wake up! Wake up!"

The young human Ensign grunted, pulling the pillow from underneath him and flattening it on his head. He had a massive headache, between the very chesty Bajoran he had bedded the night before and the strong Romulan ale he had consumed. Why hadn't the Federation kept it banned?

"Come on, Tyler!" another voice called out to him. "It's our first day post-Graduation! We should be celebrating!"

"Go away!" he grumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow.

As if the Hand of God smashed into his bed, two heavy sets of feet landed on the foot of his bed, jumping up and down at different rhythms. He had no time to process this before the pillow was ripped off his head. He cried out, putting his hands to his face to block out the sun that seemed intent on murdering his brains with its rays.

"Come on," one of his assailants said, poking him with a bony finger. "Spill the beans!"

"W-w-what beans are y-y-you talking abou-ut?" he stammered, hating every single one of the people in the room at the moment.

"'What beans' he says," the first voice, who was actually a woman said, at the same time as the words were said one of the feet stopped jumping. "You know exactly what he's talking about. That Bajoran you scored with last night, silly!"

"Yeah," the other person, still bouncing on his bed, "I saw a ring on her finger! That female was married, yes?"

"Y-y-yeah," he finally said, squeezing his eyes almost shut as he finally pushed himself back away from the bouncing person. "So?"

"Honestly," the second voice, who he could distinctly make out as a Trill male of about the same age. "You have to let me in on your secret. Every woman, and I mean every woman you decide to sleep with, always succumbs to your charms."

The woman tisked. "I really don't know how," she said, her pointed ears and a little prominent brow showing a Romulan heritage. "You stammer like nobody's business. I don't know how you do it."

"Hewmans should never have the same success with females as Ferengi," the last person said, stopping jumping on the bed, instead moving to sit cross-legged on the bed.

Tyler grunted, his hang-over fogged brain not making connections to everything that was being said. They had decided to go clubbing after the graduation ceremony and he had indeed seen a woman at the bar. He had seen the ring on her hand but that hadn't stopped him. There was a secret to his success with women, but he would never share. It wasn't….appropriate to be that nice to even his best friends.

Yet the one that had just talked, who just so happened to be the second Ferengi to ever join Starfleet, seemed to take the grunt as an admission of the superiority of his race.

"That's right!" he proclaimed, "We might have allowed them trading rights, but Ferengi females understand there is no profit in wearing clothing and resisting male advances. But you….you put even my father, Morg, to shame!"

He looked up at them, risking opening his eyes a little wider. They all looked at him expectantly. His mind still wasn't working one hundred percent, but the longer his head was up, the clearer things became. Although, at this pace, he would finally be completely free only after he had grandchildren of his own!

"You all r-r-really didn't j-j-just come to h-h-he-hear about my l-l-love life?" Tyler stammered out, "Wh-wh-what are you really d-d-doing here?"

The Trill male picked up a data PADD he had been carrying, although only now did the hung-over ensign notice it. He held it up triumphantly as if it were a prize most valuable. He didn't need to ask though as the Trill was more then eager to say what it was.

"We got our duty assignments!" he said, and his grin was almost as bad as the murderous sun beams. "Drum roll please, Deatr!"

The Ferengi at once went into a drum roll on the bed, and the vibrations hit Tyler's slush-feeling brains like a tidal-wave. Both hands went up to the side of his head and grabbed both sides of his skull, trying to keep his brain held in place. He gritted his teeth, hissing.

"Really?" he hissed, only to see the sharp-toothed grin of the demon-faced little toad.

"Ensign Tyler Daarth," the Trill said, his voice taking on an announcer voice. "You have been assigned to the USS Wayne as Helmsman. Ensign Deatr, you have been assigned to Starbase 31 in Engineering."

"There is no profit in sitting on a starbase," the Ferengi grunted, "No female wants a starbase bound male."

"Shut up," the Romulan said, smacking him upside the head, "What about me?"

"Ensign Jennifer Bakara," the young man continued, saying the last name all funny, "You have been assigned to Engineering on the USS Transfiguration."

She uttered a swearword. "They know Science is my strong point!" she growled.

"And the very dashing Ensign Yedrin Perim," the Trill said, smiling at his own narcissism comment, "Are assigned to Security on the USS Hollow Pursuit….." he stopped, looking at it with sudden comprehension. "Wait….that's my sister's ship! You mean I'm going to have to take orders from my sister?! She's never let me forget that she served on the Enterprise!"

As the other talked excitedly among themselves, Tyler could only wonder what type of adventures he'd have on the USS Wayne. And which woman he'd get married to. His plan was to be married within six months of being on board. And with his secret success with women, he was certain he'd have no problems with it.