STARDATE 51042.57: Three Years in The Delta Quadrant

"Phil," B'Elanna whispered and looked down at her towel. He pushed a finger between her breasts and tugged. The towel fell away. Strong muscles showed beneath her brown skin. At last, a woman that could survive him. She drew him to her bed. After he pulled off his tunic, she reached up and ripped open his shirt. She lunged forward and bit his chest. He groaned and pulled her face closer. She arched her head back and brought her mouth close to his.

"Do you know the Klingon Orgasm Ritual?" she asked.

"No," he said.

She guided his eyes above her bed. "Take the pain stick and place it—"

"Lieutenant Keegan?" B'Elanna said.

He looked up from his food and smiled. "Yes, Lieutenant Torres?"

"How do you like the new title?" She put her tray on the table and sat down. It had taken a walk to get there. Phil always took a table in the back corner of the mess.

"I like my new quarters," he replied.

She laughed. "Benefits of rank. So, what were you thinking about just now?"

"Sex."

She laughed again. "Anyone I know?"

"Probably. It's not that big a ship."

She looked out the window and sighed. "It's been a dry spell for all of us, hasn't it?"

"Yes, but enough about the inadequacies of our respective personal lives. I wanted to ask you an engineering question. I found a lot of hardwired commands in the various transfer nodes around the ship."

"I know," she said. "They're there for maintenance and security."

"Some of the commands are very strange," he said.

"I asked one of my professors about them once. He told me I would understand them if I ever became an admiral. Until then, don't worry about it."

He scowled at the table. "Isn't it my job to understand it?"

"Not according to my professor," she said, slicing off a piece of lasagna. "You know, you sound paranoid."

"What?" he said. He appeared shocked, or hurt. "You're right. I can be paranoid sometimes." He lifted his coffee to his mouth but didn't drink.

"Maybe it's just the Delta Quadrant."

"What?" he said over the cup. "Yes, you're right. It's the Delta Quadrant." He laughed and took a sip. "The Delta Quadrant is out to get me."

"It's not the only one."

"Excuse me, Lieutenant?"

She smiled past her fork. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

"That didn't sound like nothing."

"Well—" she began.

"Am I interrupting?" Tom Paris said. He held a tray of food.

"Tom?" B'Elanna said. "I thought you were on duty."

"I can break for lunch."

"Yes, you can," she said.

"Do you mind if I have a seat?" Tom said. "What were you talking about?"

"Transfer nodes," Phil said. When B'Elanna turned back, Tom looked at Phil and stabbed his head toward the door. Phil groaned. "It can wait until later. Besides, Tom is gesturing me to leave."

"What?" B'Elanna said. She swung back around and slapped Tom in the stomach. "Why did you do that?"

Tom put his tray down. "I wanted to have lunch with you. Is that so bad?"

B'Elanna shook her head at him. "Yes, if you drive my friends off to do it."

"I'm not driving him off," Tom said. "I just want to have lunch with you."

"I know, but he's a friend. Three people can have lunch can't they?"

"Yes, I suppose three people can have lunch, but that's not the point."

She threw her hands apart. "I don't know if you ever know the point."

Neither one noticed Phil leave. God, he thought, they're already married.

The door to Philip Keegan's room chimed.

"Come in," he said.

Seven of Nine walked in through the door. "Lieutenant," she said. "I have determined you have the greatest likelihood of providing physical gratification. I wish to study this aspect of human behavior. Do you find this course of action acceptable?"

"Yes," he said. "I can agree to your proposal."

"Then we will begin the mating act. Disrobe. I will do the same."

"I'll watch for now."

"That is inefficient."

"Have you ever done this before?"

"I have not."

"Then, how do you know it's inefficient?"

"It is not logical," she said. "The act requires that we are both disrobed."

"It's not supposed to be logical," he replied. "Trust me on this."

She considered him with irritation. "Very well. I will begin." For the next twenty minutes, she struggled to remove her clothes, tugging and yanking at the tight suit. Finally, she worried her feet out of her shoes and stood. "I am now prepared for the sexual act. Remove your clothing."

"Um," Phil said. "Lie down on the bed."

"Your actions remain illogical and inefficient, but we must use the bed for the act. I will comply." She walked to the bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling. "Begin," she said.

"Begin?" he asked.

"Begin the sexual act."

"Oh, hell."

"Yes, Lieutenant. You are now required to remove your clothing and insert your—"

"Stop! Computer, end program." His quarters and Seven of Nine faded away. "I don't believe it. Only that woman could be irritating in a sex fantasy. Computer, delete program. While you're at it, delete the Kes program too."

"Specify," the computer responded. "There are two-hundred and thirteen 'Kes' programs on file."

"Mine! Delete mine." He walked off the holodeck muttering, "This was just a bad idea."

"Ensign Sandra Donnelley, sir," she said. She pulled a panel from the side of the Main Computer.

"Another Irishman. Glad to hear it. A British captain makes me nervous." He monitored her actions on his control panel.

Donnelley laughed. "I think she was raised in America."

"And I was raised near Borneo. Let's not quibble. I never met you when I was in Maintenance. Why is that?"

"Denise Reed told me she'd make my life hell." She removed a component, ran a repair tool over it and replaced it.

"You outrank her."

She repaired another component. "Did you ever bug your older siblings?"

"Constantly," he said. "Isn't she dating Jerry, now?"

Sandra stopped. "Yes, she is." She continued with her work.

"So, you're safe?" he asked.

She dropped her eyes. "I guess you could say that."

"Do you like Thai food?"

She put her tool down and walked around the console to him. "I don't want to go to Sickbay."

"My cooking isn't that bad."

"You know what I mean."

"I thought Starfleet officers didn't fear the unknown. Or a challenge."

She walked back to her tools. "I like Cantonese."

"I know a few recipes."

"You never talk about yourself," Phil said.

Sandra let her robe drop. "This is all you need to know," she replied. She pushed up on her toes to reach his mouth.

"I'm serious," he said. "I want to know about you." He took hold of her.

"And I want to moan beneath your fingers. Which sounds like more fun?"

"Okay, that does sound like more fun. But after three weeks, I expect more from a woman than just sex." He carried her to the bed.

Sandra stabbed around at her salad. "So you hated your cousin. So what?"

"The point is, you know that. You know my sister is a writer. Do you even have siblings?" He pushed his plate away and ignored his food. He also ignored the other people in the mess hall watching them.

"I want that part of my life private." She ate a forkful of salad and chewed slowly.

He leaned forward on the table. "I can strip you naked and do anything to your body—"

"God, yes."

"But, you won't tell me your first assignment out of the Academy. You won't even tell me when you graduated."

She tossed her fork down. "Why does that even matter? Honestly, Phil, we're having a good time. You don't enjoy that?"

He watched her and watched her. "No. I need more."

"I don't." She stood up. "I need less. I'm sorry."

STARDATE 55237.21: Seventh Day of the Trial

"Commander Chakotay," Phil said. "Please explain the dichotomy of the Computer Core."

"It is one of the most important parts of the ship," the commander began. "But it requires very little maintenance. Officers are usually assigned to the Core only when they can go nowhere else. Often, the Core is without a department head, or a department for that matter, and the Chief Engineer oversees the maintenance of the computer. In spite of the security checks and evaluations required for the post, in spite of its importance, assignment to the Core often results in the stagnation of an officer's career."

"Why did you give me the assignment?"

The commander crossed his fingers. "Considering how far we were from the Alpha Quadrant, I didn't think there was anything you could do."

"Do you believe I did my job well?"

"Yes," Chakotay said slowly.

"Did you ever reprimand me?"

"No."

"Did you consider me a good officer?"

"Yes, I did."

"Mister Tuvok thought I was Maquis. Why didn't you ask him about that?"

"I had more pressing matters at the time."

"Of course. However, it is the job of the First Officer to oversee the crew. My successful deception doesn't reflect well on you. Can you justify the error?"

"I thought you might have been a spy like Seska, or—" Chakotay looked at the admirals. "—something else. After Mister Jonas was exposed, I relaxed my view of you. We needed our crew unified. According to everyone I talked to, you always pressed for that. Your service in security showed your dedication to the ship. I considered your irregular history odd, but nothing more."

"If you had been in my position, as a Maquis infiltrator for example, would you have done what I did?"

"Yes, I believe I would."

"How would you justify those actions to yourself?"

"The Maquis always felt what we did was right."

"Was it right?" Phil asked.

Chakotay reviewed the question. "I know that we failed, but I don't know what we did was wrong."

"What I did, was that wrong?"

Chakotay looked hard at Keegan. "Yes," he said.

"What would you have done if you found out what I was?"

"Arrested you."

"Why?"

"To protect the ship and her crew. That's my first duty."

"You were a good Starfleet officer."

"Yes," Chakotay said.

"But you were Maquis."

"Yes."

"Your crimes were forgiven," Keegan said.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"The captain had no choice," Chakotay said. "We needed each other."

"Did you need me?"

"You helped us."

"Did I need you?" Keegan asked.

"Yes," Chakotay said. "You couldn't survive the trip back alone."

"Then, was I a threat?"

"No."

"So why did you fear me?"

"I didn't," Chakotay said. "Until I knew what you were."

"Thank you, Commander."

Commander Brown stood after Keegan sat down. "Tell me, Commander, as Voyager's First Officer, how many crimes did you commit?"

"None," he said. "At least, not willingly."

"Yes, there was that incident. I'm curious, Commander, how serious do you consider Mister Keegan's crimes?"

"He requested that assignment with the purpose of betraying it."

"Do you like him?" the prosecutor said.

"Until he took over the ship, he never gave me a reason to dislike him. He annoyed me on a couple of occasions, but nothing else."

"On what did you base your decision to give him that post?" Commander Brown asked.

"Mostly on the opinion of B'Elanna Torres," Chakotay said. "She thought highly of him. She praised him. That's something rare for B'Elanna."

"And Mister Tuvok?"

"Tuvok trusted him. That's also something rare."

"What did your personal evaluation of him reveal?" the prosecutor asked.

"He did his job better than expected. Whatever the job."

"Do you believe he served his ship to the best of his ability?"

"Yes, I do."

The commander blinked sharply. "I'm sorry, what?"

"If we knew what he was, the captain would have imprisoned or abandoned him. His oath required him to serve. He could not serve from the brig, so he was required to lie and underperform to serve at all. Instead of some of his ability, we would have gained none of his ability."

"You believe his crimes were justified?"

The commander shook his head. "Not all of them, no. But I believe withholding irrelevant or private information for his own protection is not a crime."

"You sympathize with his actions?"

"With his actions? No. But I understand his motivations."

"Thank you, Mister Chakotay," Brown said. "No further questions."

After a moment of silence, Admiral T'Lara said, "Mister Keegan, do you have any more questions for this witness?"

"No, Admiral, I don't." He smiled as he said it.

"Mister Chakotay," T'Lara said. "You may step down."

STARDATE 51115.63: Three Years in The Delta Quadrant

"Computer, locate all references to a Philip Keegan, born nineteen-seventy-three, attended MIT beginning in nineteen-eighty-six."

"References found."

Keegan read through the short history of his life.

"Locate the optical storage chips in the protected archive that hold these records."

A list appeared on a different screen.

"Computer—" He took a deep breath. "Computer, delete the identified files from the Primary and Auxiliary Cores."

"Deletion of a protected memory file requires the approval of two senior officers."

He pushed himself away from the console and took another breath.

"Computer, engage protocol Valjean, authorization Keegan, beta-two-nine-one-four. Bypass memory safety protocols."

"Confirmed."

"Delete the requested files."

"Files deleted."

"Mark the selected memory chips as damaged. Record the damage under the following conditions."

He input a series of damage reports.

"Confirmed," the computer responded.

"Delete this session, disengage protocol Valjean, delete protocol Valjean and all records pertaining to it."

"Confirmed."

"Run a level three diagnostic and correct any damaged files."

"Beginning diagnostic."

Keegan opened a panel in the floor and climbed down to the archive room. He took a tool from his belt. Walking along the wall of glowing chips, he found the first record. He put the tool to the base of the chip and disengaged its connection. He watched it in his hand and considered crushing it. He shoved it in a pouch and moved on to the next chip.

So this is it, he thought, hours later on the holodeck. He looked on the remains of a battle. The victors gathered their dead for burial. The losers waited for the birds. At the center of it all, a man sat on a boulder and wept, but not for them.

The door of the holodeck slid open and B'Elanna entered. Phil did not turn. He continued to watch the man weep.

"What is this?" B'Elanna asked.

"The last battle fought by Alexander the Great."

She looked at the man on the boulder. "He has no more worlds to conquer?"

"No. It didn't work."

"What?" she asked.

"He conquered the world, because he was lonely. He wanted the world to love him. Many of us still do. But it didn't work. He was still lonely."

B'Elanna shook her head. "I've never heard that interpretation. As a Klingon, I always thought I understood Alexander."

Phil laughed. "No one really understands anyone. That interpretation came from my grandfather. He had a unique view of history."

She turned toward him. "I thought your cousin was obsessed with Alexander. Didn't you say that once?"

"Yes, but it was my grandfather who understood him." He did not look back.

"You know," she said. "There's a party on holodeck one."

"So I heard."

"Some people were asking about you."

"Did they send you after me?"

She watched him more closely. "Yes," she said.

He took a slow breath and let it out. "That's too bad."

"You owe me a dance," she said.

"We did dance, remember?"

She looked at Alexander. "You'll become as obsessed as your cousin," she said lightly. She didn't notice his fist clench.

"My cousin is dead. The starship he was on blew up."

"I'm sorry," she said. "Were you close?"

"He was once my hero."

"It's hard to lose a hero," she commented.

"That depends on how you lose them."

She walked in front of him. "It's hard to lose a friend too."

"I suppose it is."

She growled a Klingon curse at him. "I don't care what it was. Nothing could be that bad!"

He stepped uncomfortably close and leaned his mouth next to her ear. "Don't be so certain of that," he whispered harshly.

She quivered when he spoke and did not stop until well after he was gone.

STARDATE -333516.43: July 8, 1990

An army of onlookers cheered as the first DY-50 planetary transport lifted off the launch pad. It carried a small crew and components of the new space station. In one of the observation booths, Philip Keegan raised a glass of Champaign to the ship. An arm's length away, one of Phil's brothers embraced his sister and kissed her deeply. Another sister, Gescilene, massaged Phil's arm and kissed his shoulder.

"Disappointed?" she asked.

"He promised me Mars."

"He lied," she said and walked in front of him, her hand on his arm.

"I know." He pressed his lips against hers. "Doesn't mean I can't be happy about the launch."

She adjusted his shirt over his broadening shoulders. "That's true, I suppose."

He pressed himself against her expanding chest. "We helped them today. That won't change. He can't take it back."

"You sound the way I do when I save someone in the ER."

"No, I don't. You giggle."

"I do not giggle," she said. "How many more are going up?"

"This year? Four. The first DY-seventy will be ready next august."

"When will I lose you to the red planet?" she asked.

"When I can beg the trip out of him."

Phil's brother looked up. "Stop! Stop such bitterness. Today, we are happy."

"Phil," his other sister said. "Have you picked your sports?"

"Where did that come from?" he said.

"I want to know. I had mine picked the day of the announcement."

"It's two years to Barcelona. Give me time."

"Remember," Gescilene said. "Phil's still struggling with his Master's degree."

They laughed, and Phil smacked his sister on the ass.

"What is wrong with you kids?" a voice called out behind them.

"We're enjoying ourselves, Cordaro," Phil said and hugged his sister.

"I know. I just wanted to make you jump," Rodriguez replied. "Phil, Gesci, could I see you?"

They groaned to each other and followed their cousin. He walked them to one of the secure hangers. Phil looked up with pride as they passed the DY-50. As they rounded the engines of the launch vehicle, they saw Zi Lin, his arm in a cast, standing over a man strapped to a chair.

"Foreign spy?" Gesci ventured.

"Not as far as I can tell," Zi said. "He calls himself Gary Seven."

"Is that a joke?" Phil asked.

"No," Zi said. He held up his broken arm. "Neither is this. He and his partner put up a hell of a fight."

"Why?" Gesci said.

"The only thing I've been able to get out of him is that 'This shouldn't happen. The launch isn't right.' I don't know what he means by that or how he did this to me. I haven't seen mental discipline this strong since Grandfather."

"What do you want us to do?" Phil asked.

Zi tossed him what looked like a mutated fountain pen. "Tell me what you can about that. The circuitry self-destructed, but you might learn something about the materials."

"And me?" Gesci asked.

"I need to do some tests on him, but I can't like this," Zi said. "He looks like a normal human, but he didn't fight like one. I want to know why. I'll need the works. Start with an MRI. Give me a full report after the dissection."

"What—" Gesci said. "What about his partner?"

"She was a normal human."

"Oh."

"Nathari and Kashmira are upstairs," Phil said. "I could use their help."

"I'll get them," Rodriguez said. "You go to the lab."

Gesci took hold of Phil's arm and squeezed until he winced. "I know," he whispered.

"Get going," Zi said.

Phil nodded and left. He had the pen under an electron microscope when Kashmira walked into the lab. "Where's Nate?" he asked.

"He went to help Gesci," she said. She started up the mass spectrometer. "Do you want to go somewhere and get drunk?"

"Not as much a Gesci."