USS Voyager II, Captain's Ready Room
The heady aroma of Kona coffee filled Kathryn Janeway's senses as she sat at her desk in her new ready room. B'Elanna, bless her heart, had worked for months to refine the replicator's ability to produce a perfect cup in a variety of beans, roasts and styles. So far, it seemed her effort had paid off with complete success.
On the other hand, Janeway was taking no chances. She wasn't returning to the Delta Quadrant without a back-up plan. Voyager II boasted not only an airponics bay, but also a traditional hydroponics bay and an old-fashioned dirt garden - where a dozen coffee bushes were growing. That, and the coffee roaster Chakotay had picked up at an antiques store, assured a continuous supply of the Divine Brew.
Her lips curled in a contented smile. Her ship was two days into its new mission with no serious glitches or mysterious tetyron beams. Her husband was on board and working on research he felt passionately about. Life was good.
The door chime sounded, interrupting her brief moment of woolgathering. A quick glance at the chrono confirmed that it was exactly 1830 hours, the time of her last scheduled appointment for the day. "Come," she said.
Her Ops Officer entered, took four steps forward and snapped smartly to full attention. "Lieutenant Auraan reporting as ordered."
Janeway studied the young woman and managed to contain a smile. Auraan was very young and very eager, even more than Harry Kim had been so many years ago. "At ease, Lieutenant," she said, and then added for her own amusement, "before you sprain something."
Auraan let her hands fall at her sides, but otherwise failed to visibly relax. Janeway was struck by two things - first, the woman's youth. She seemed far too young to be a Starfleet officer and far too vulnerable. Not even Harry Kim had been this young, or at least, not the Harry Kim of her memories. The second thing was the woman's exotic appeal. The combination of Troyian and Elasian genes created a being who, if not exactly beautiful by human standards, was nonetheless extremely compelling. The heavy eye make-up wasn't regulation (it was yet another concession Starfleet had granted the government of Troyius in order to lure one of its royal family into the service) but it transformed her eyes into something dramatic and irresistible. Her teal skin - Auraan would be positively green standing next to an Andorian or Bolian- was intensified by her dark hair and amazing eyes. With Tom Paris married, and Harry, Hugh Murphy and Jack O'Connell no longer on board, Janeway wondered who would be the first eager suitor for this girl's favors. She was suddenly glad that she could count Chakotay on the 'accounted for' side.
She must have let the silence drag on too long, because Auraan said uncertainly, "You wished to see me, Captain?"
"Yes." Janeway regrouped quickly. "You were a bit late in joining us, Ensign. You haven't had much chance to settle in. How are things going?"
"Fine, Captain. Thank you."
"Have a seat, Lieutenant. This isn't a review." She watched as Auraan took the seat directly in front of the desk. If it were possible to sit at attention, the young woman was doing it. Her back was ramrod straight and her shoulders tense. Janeway smiled reassuringly. "I'm trying to get to know all my new officers. Unfortunately, we didn't have an opportunity to talk before the launch."
Auraan nodded. "The timing of my arrival was unfortunate."
"Have you had a chance to get unpacked yet?" the Captain asked. "We've kept you pretty busy since you came on board."
"Yes. I had little to bring with me."
"Ah. Well, how are you getting along with Delia O'Brien?" Yet another mandate from HQ concerning this officer was that she 'required' a roommate.
Scarcely moving, Auraan replied, "Ensign O'Brien seems amiable and unobtrusive. We should suit nicely."
"It's a little unusual for a member of the senior staff to request a roommate." In fact, it was almost unheard of; privacy was one of the most valued perks of authority on any starship. If anything, Janeway was accustomed to requests for single quarters or cohabitation, not blind pairing.
"Unmarried females of the Troyian royal family are required to have a duenna who, at the execution of a marriage contract, can attest to the chastity of the bride or groom," Auraan said stiffly. "Starfleet would not permit my duenna to accompany me, so this compromise was reached."
Janeway leaned back in her chair. "I see. Does Ensign O'Brien understand her -" she struggled to find the right phrase -"future duties?"
"I haven't informed her. Since I have no intention of marrying, it shouldn't become an issue. However, the only way the Ruler my Uncle would permit me to join Starfleet was on the condition that I appear to observe the Customs."
Auraan hadn't moved, not so much as a twitch of a muscle, nor had her direct gaze wavered. Still, Janeway had the feeling that the young woman was distinctly uncomfortable with the discussion. Deciding her curiosity about Troyian royalty would have to wait, the Captain tried another subject. "I understand you are a musician."
For the first time, Auraan's apparent impassivity cracked. She looked startled. "How did you know that?"
Janeway smiled. This had been yet another special waiver for Troyian royalty. Auraan had been correct when she said she had not brought much on board, yet what she did bring exceeded the weight allowance by some twenty kilos. "You brought a rather large instrument on board. I'm told it's a harp."
"An Elaasian harp," she corrected. "It belonged to the late Dohlman my Great-Grandmother. Traditionally, it is played only in the Inner Chamber of the Royal Household, for members of the family and the courtier's circle."
"Well." Janeway's voice iced over. "That's too bad. My last Operations Officer was also a musician. He was quite generous with his talent."
Auraan's face darkened at least two shades. "My apologies, Captain. I did not mean to sound ... elitist. I sometimes have difficulty explaining the customs of my people. We are rather rigid in our social strictures."
The Captain looked at her curiously. "So I've heard. And yet, you broke the mold by applying for the Exchange Program. May I ask why?"
The young woman considered for a moment, then answered slowly. "I am eighth in line for the throne, Captain. Short of a catastrophic event, there is virtually no chance that I would ever ascend. The daughters of the royal house are rarely permitted to plan their own destiny. If I remained on Troyius, I would be required to resign from the Navy in two more years. At that time, I would be married to secure a political advantage and perhaps permitted to pursue some diplomatic experience. That did not appeal to me."
Janeway smiled. For the first time, she began to feel better about having this young woman foisted upon her. Her instincts told her Auraan was here because of her own ambition and not to fulfill some hidden agenda of the inscrutable Ruler of Troyius. "Thank you for your candor. If you don't mind my asking, how were you able to persuade your uncle to allow you to join Starfleet?"
As the Captain watched, the young woman's lovely face seemed to set into a mask of polite aloofness. It was an expression Janeway had seen before, usually worn by diplomats and government officials whose careers required the appearance of attention even though their minds have escaped the tedious conversation. "I was most eloquent," she said at last.
Janeway didn't need the Micheline Guide to Troyius to understand that she had just encroached on the private preserve of the Royal family, and she couldn't help frowning. It was going to be hard enough to establish diplomatic relations with the Vidiians and other Delta Quadrant species; she didn't need to worry about creating a diplomatic incident with one of her staff. "Ah," she said.
"Thank you, Captain." Aurann rose, apparently thinking that the conference was over.
Annoyed, Janeway glanced at the chronometer and realized that the allotted time for the interview had just expired. Had Auraan been marking time, or did she have an internal clock? "Lieutenant," she said with a nod. The young woman left, every movement managing to be both precise and graceful.
Staring thoughtfully at the door, the Captain wondered briefly if she had made a mistake in agreeing to accept the enigmatic Auraan on this mission. Even if she turned out to be an extraordinary performer, Janeway doubted she would ever fit in with the rest of the crew.
With a short shake of her head, she returned to the launch-related paperwork. She had just enough time to finish it before her "date" with Chakotay. They were planning on a quiet dinner in their cabin - with the privacy lock engaged.
After all, it was still their honeymoon.
USS Odyssey
0600 hours came way too quickly, Sam Lavelle thought as he yawned widely. Alone in the turbolift, he didn't have to try to stifle it. He shouldn't have stayed so late at the Captain's reception, but once Captain La Forge had arrived to relieve him of hosting duties, he had relaxed and enjoyed himself - and lost track of time. It had been after 0230 when he finally made it back to his quarters. When the computer woke him up, he couldn't believe it was time to go back on duty.
The 'lift stopped at Deck 6, and Grissom E. "Griz" Chafyn entered. Sam was considered tall, but even he had to look up to the Chief of Security, who exceeded two meters by a fingertip. There was a rumor going around that Griz was part Nausicaan, but Sam knew it wasn't true. Griz was entirely human, but his size and strength gave the story credibility. Even though the lift was more than large enough for them both, Sam shifted a little to give them both more space. "Good morning."
"Morning, Commander." Chafyn's voice always caught Sam by surprise. He expected someone that large to have a booming bass, but Griz was not only soft-spoken, but he always sounded hoarse, as if he had a sore throat. Even after years in Starfleet, he hadn't lost his Jamaican accent. "Quite a party, wasn't it?"
"Yes, the Captain was pleased." And thank God for synthehol, Sam added silently. If his drinks had been real alcohol, he'd still be in his bunk, oblivious. "But it's going to be a long day today."
"It surely is," Griz agreed. "O'Donnell and I were still in the holodeck when we realized Alpha shift was about to begin."
"You never went to bed?"
"Well, you see, Commander Kim and O'Donnell were talking about a program they had back on Voyager, a French pool hall. O'Donnell thought he could take me." Chafyn grinned, white teeth suddenly splitting his dark beard. "It took a while, but he was wrong."
The 'lift reached the Bridge, leaving Sam feeling chagrined as he headed for his station. He wasn't sure if it was because he had missed the match, or because Chafyn had been on his feet for 24 hours yet looked fresher than Sam felt after three hours of sleep. It wasn't that long ago that Sam could stay up all night and still report for duty needing only a shave and a cup of coffee. Was he getting *old*? What a depressing thought.
To make matters worse, he saw that Harry Kim was already at station, looking crisp and chipper. Way, way too chipper. Score another one for Voyager's finest.
As Sam took his seat, Captain La Forge entered the Bridge from his ready room. "Good morning," he said cheerfully. "I'm looking forward to today's drill. Captain Janeway has wagered a pound of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee that Voyager's tactical team will perform better than ours."
"Sucker bet," Griz Chafyn said. "Sir."
"I'm counting on it," La Forge said. As he sat, he leaned toward Sam and lowered his voice. "I'm not that much of a coffee lover, but I hear Jamaican Blue Mountain is -"
"Captain," Harry Kim said, his voice conveying a sense of urgency. "We're receiving a message from Starfleet Command. Priority 1."
Sam felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. Priority 1 messages were reserved for crisis situations. What was happening?
"Let's have it, Harry," La Forge said, all traces of humor vanishing.
The holographic communications platform illuminated with the image of Rear Admiral Stenek seated at a desk. *Stenek*? Sam thought. *He's responsible for the Romulan Neutral Zone. Is there a problem with the Romulans*?
Behind the platform, the viewscreen shifted from a view of the stars to a split screen, showing the bridges officers on Voyager and Pioneer, who were receiving the message at the same time. Sam wondered if he looked as calm as Commander Tuvok.
Stenek nodded once. "Good. Captains Janeway, La Forge, Merves - stand by for a change in orders. Pioneer will continue on to Deep Space 10, but Voyager and Odyssey are going to divert to respond to a request for assistance from the Romulan Empire."
Only the fact that Stenek was a Vulcan kept Sam from wondering if it were a joke. Apparently Captain Janeway shared his skepticism. "The Romulans asked for our help?"
The Admiral heard the disbelief in her voice. "A rare event indeed, Captain. Rare enough that the Federation is willing to interrupt your mission."
"What's the problem?" La Forge asked.
"One of their science ships, operating at the extreme edge of the Beta Quadrant, has documented what appears to be a rogue weapon. It has destroyed at least three planets and one space station."
"A planet-killer," Sam said softly, not meaning to speak aloud..
"Were the planets inhabited?" Janeway asked.
"Yes. The Romulans didn't give us specifics, but they estimated that at least two billion people have been killed. If the weapon stays on its current path, it will eventually reach Romulus - but first, it will encounter more than thirty inhabited planets." Stenek paused, then added, "We are transmitting the data you will need, including the coordinates and the information the Romulans have provided so far."
"Why don't the Romulans take care of it themselves?" Captain Merves asked from Pioneer.
"Two reasons," Stenek replied. "First, their closest ship with sufficient armament would need at least three weeks to get there. As I mentioned, it is on the far side of the Beta Quadrant. More planets could be destroyed by then. Secondly, and I admit this is surmise on my part, the Romulans do not know how to defeat this threat. By asking for our assistance, they can either be saved from the threat, or learn from your failure; either way, they come out ahead."
La Forge shook his head. "Swell. Admiral, are you sure you can trust them? Could this be some elaborate scheme to get their hands on our transwarp technology?"
"We considered that, but the data appears to be genuine. We believe there is a legitimate threat."
On Voyager, Captain Janeway leaned forward in her chair, her expression intense. "Admiral, can you tell us anything more about this weapon?"
"The files we have transmitted contain everything we currently know. However, I can show you a record made by the science ship that is on the scene. Standby."
He gestured to someone unseen. Then the viewscreen shifted and Janeway and Merves disappeared. In their place, a grainy picture of a giant, horizontal cone-shaped entity appeared. As they watched, it raised its vertex, issued first a beam of energy from the tip and then much larger one from its base. A planet disappeared in a massive explosion.
Sam realized he was holding his breath. The poor quality transmission disappeared and Janeway and Merves were returned to the screen. They looked shaken.
Stenek, whose holographic image had remained still during the broadcast, spoke quietly. "Researchers are working now, to see if anything in Starfleet records will be of use to you."
"They can stop looking," Sam said, more loudly than he intended.
La Forge turned to him curiously, and Stenek's eyebrows arched. La Forge said, "What do you mean?"
Taking a breath, Sam rose. "Admiral, tell your researchers to check the logs of the USS Enterprise under James T. Kirk. You'll find he encountered something very similar. And he had to blow up a starship to stop it."