DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters or basic ideas from Star Trek. No profit is earned in writing this.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I got this idea for a series of stories based around original characters based in the Star Trek TNG universe. A series of original characters will be the center of the story with canon characters only showing up briefly. I will work on this as I can. Each chapter will be a self-contained story, but building on the one before. I don't really have an 'end' in sight. I'm just enjoying the exercise and I hope you will as well.

LOWER DECKS

CH. 11 A TALE UNTOLD

Captain Jean Luc Picard nodded in acceptance of Rose' apology. No harm had been meant and briefly limiting her access to certain areas seemed an adequate punishment. He still found the notion of adopting an alien AI to be rather strange, but Davies seemed happy with the arrangement, and as far as anyone could tell, including Cmdr. Data, Cmdr. LaForge, and Counselor Troi, Rose was exactly what she claimed to be.

The AI had been instrumental in retaking the ship from the Skreelii and had proved helpful on other occasions, so Picard was willing to accept the situation, odd though it might be. Most people seemed to accept Rose as well and treated her as they would any civilian family member.

As he settled at the table in Ten-Forward, where several of his officers and a few security personnel were gathered, he reflected that Rose' hijinks had one upside. Her snooping had unearthed mention of an incident involving Davies and his late, much lamented friend, Walker Kiel. He had held off reviewing the file himself at Troi's suggestion. It seemed Davies was quite the story teller.

He had some hesitation over putting the man on the spot, but his junior officers seemed to have already done that. Settling back in his chair he watched the junior officers banter back and forth as drinks were handed out.

"So story time," Yuki said, causing Davies to roll his eyes a bit. "I understand you served on the Horatio under captain Kiel?"

Davies nodded. "I did."

"I was hoping you'd tell that one," Rose chirped over the group's comm badges. "Is that the one where Captain Kiel spooned you?" The question was met with dead silence and all eyes turned toward a red-faced security officer.

"S-she means that he stabbed me with a spoon," he quickly clarified. "Rose, spooning isn't like knifing someone. Spooning is… different." Everyone was still staring at him, with much the same expression.

"Really?" Rose asked, sounding surprised. "Non-standard usage is so complicated. Checking linguistic database."

Davies opened his mouth to try to forestall that. "Ah, Rose, actually-"

"Oh! That is different!" She paused, apparently taking in the reactions of those at the table. "Um…sorry?"

"I should hope so," Morris winced. "None of us wanted that image in our heads." At that point the choking sounds coming from Riker and LaForge turned into full blown laughter.

Davies chanced a look at the captain and found him with a tight smile and shaking shoulders. He coughed when he noticed Davies watching him and shook his head slightly. "Yes, well. How exactly did Walker come to stab you with a spoon?"

"And what is it with you and cutlery?" Riker added, earning more laughter from the audience.

Davies cleared his throat, ignoring the question. "I was stationed aboard the Horatio working under Lt. Cmdr. Maktin, an Andorian officer that had been with Captain Kiel for nearly eight years. I had been there about three months when the Horatio made first contact with the Zafien." He glanced about. "Ever met them?"

Riker nodded. "I believe there are two currently at the Academy."

"They're a good people," Davies nodded. "Very easygoing, and I think they'll make a good fit with the Federation when they're ready. Since Captain Kiel made the first contact, he was the logical choice to ferry the diplomats to their homeworld for initial treaty negotiations."

The others nodded. That was standard practice. Familiar faces would, whenever possible, make the introductions for the diplomats. It wasn't always possible or even necessary, but it usually made the process easier. The Zafien had been no exception.

"It went well and after a few days, the agreements were finalized. The Zafien' leaders invited the diplomats as well as Captain Kiel and his top officers to a banquet. It wasn't until about an hour after the captain and the rest had gone down that we learned something had gone wrong."

OOOOOOOOOO

"This rotation should alleviate the personnel problem. The scheduling conflicts the old one created have been hard on the crew," Davies pointed out.

"Yes," Maktin nodded. "This should work nicely. Good job, ensign. I'll run it by Cmdr. Hanil later." Further discussion was interrupted by a call from the bridge. The security chief nodded and headed up, leaving Davies to return to his post.

Only a few minutes had passed when the security chief contacted him to report to the transporter room. He and several other security officers arrived just in time for a briefing along with the CMO and one of his nurses.

"Something's gone wrong at the banquet," Maktin began without preamble. "The Zafien called us to report that their guests were behaving in a way the translator insists on rendering as 'squirrelly.'"

They had all traded looks at that but rushed to the platform. "I don't know what we'll find down there, so be careful. The safe retrieval of our people is the top priority, but avoid engaging the Zafien unless there's no option." Davies doubted the Zafien would have called them if they were behind the problem, but he couldn't be sure of anything so held his peace as the transporter took hold.

They were met at the capitol building's transportation hub by a fussy little male Zafien that gestured them to follow without explanation. "Can you give us an idea of the situation?" Maktin asked after a moment.

"I..I'm not sure what is happening. The Humans seemed to be enjoying the meal and the entertainment, but then they began to speak louder and behave in strange ways. When I left, the diplomats were trying to organize some sort of game involving Eshil fruit and a stick procured from somewhere. I'm not sure where." That seemed to worry him for some reason.

"We'll sort it out," Maktin assured him. He glanced at the doctor. "Any ideas?"

"Not until I examine them," the man shook his head. "My department cleared all of the foods served at the banquet as safe. Were there any last minute substitutions or additions?"

"Not to my knowledge," the Zafien official answered. "There were strict instructions to follow the approved menu. No one wanted to risk accidentally poisoning our guests."

"Good to know," the doctor nodded. "I hope we can rule out the food, but I won't know till I run some tests."

Any further discussion was interrupted by their arrival at the banquet hall. The Zafien official pushed open the door and the security and medical teams followed him in. They were met by a truly bizarre sight. Several of the Federation diplomats had organized a baseball game using local foodstuffs as balls. At least, it seemed to follow the basic pattern of a baseball game. As they watched, one of the legal specialists assigned to the mission threw what looked like some kind of pastry at a man holding what looked like a pole designed for a flag or banner.

The batter swung, scattering chunks of pastry and drops of cream everywhere. He then dropped the bat and proceeded to run around the banquet table. The other players and a few of the Zafien cheered his athleticism.

"I'm gonna go with 'what the hell?'" Griffith muttered under his breath. Davies glanced at his fellow security officer and shrugged.

"Minister Silla," their guide addressed another Zafien standing near the door, "what is going on?"

"Not sure," the other answered. "Any attempt to interfere makes them pelt us with food and call us 'party poopers' whatever that is. At this point, we're just enjoying the show."

And it was quite a show. The pitcher picked up a particularly juicy looking fruit and tossed it in his hand as he addressed the crowd. "It's the bottom of the seventh and Wickham's up to bat."

"I thought it was the top of the third," another player called.

"Are we playing the same game?" asked a diplomatic aide Davies slightly knew. She was holding a wall decoration that bore a passing resemblance to a tennis racquet.

"Who cares!" the pitcher shouted and hurled the fruit at her. She met it with a perfect backhand and then dropped the racquet and started to run the bases.

"Spread out and try to contain them," Maktin ordered. He took two men and headed for the game.

"You might want to avoid that one," Silla pointed to Captain Kiel. "He seems in a foul temper."

"Not it," Griffith called and headed toward the ship's science officer who was having an animated discussion on temporal mechanics with a potted plant.

Davies scowled after him for a moment and squaring his shoulders, went to confront the captain, who had a glass of something in each hand and glowered at a Zafien servant with a pitcher every time it looked like that unfortunate might make a break for it. As he approached his captain, he noticed the doctor who was examining ambassador Singh. The ambassador was lying unconscious on the floor, being examined by a female Zafien with a scanner of some sort.

"What happened?" the doctor asked.

"He made several attempts to walk up the wall and finally managed to knock himself out," the Zafien medic responded. "His vitals are stable, but I really have no idea what is normal for his species."

Seeing ambassador Singh in good hands, Davies approached the captain. "Sir?"

Kiel glanced over at him somewhat blearily. "What?"

"You're needed aboard the Horatio, sir," he quickly lied.

"Let Duffy handle it," he snorted. "I'm busy." He drained one of his glasses and held it out for a refill while draining the other.

"I'm told its Captain's eyes only," Davies improvised.

"Are you trying to tell me my job?" Kiel rounded on him, glaring.

"Uh, no sir. I'm just conveying a message. I was told to deliver it to you personally, no comms."

"So you deliver it in a room full of aliens with no clearance. Nice job." The sarcasm was tangible.

"I don't know the details, sir. Just that you need to return to the ship."

"Don't give me orders, ensign," Kiel almost growled. He poked Davies in the chest and began backing him up, swaying slightly, Davies noted, as he did so. He began to lecture on knowing a person's place and responsibility and who was and wasn't in charge, but his slurred speech and the fact that he repeated himself several times diminished the effect. Not once during the rant did he stop poking Davies with his finger. Clearly the captain wasn't in any condition to reason and in no mood to cooperate with Davies' plan to quietly remove him. It would have been so much simpler if they could simply beam their people out of the building, but there was a transporter inhibitor set up around all government buildings on the planet. While it was a reasonable security precaution, it was, at the moment, damn inconvenient.

The captain interrupted his rant to take a drink, only to discover there was nothing left in either cup. Looking around, he discovered that the Zafien servant had fled. With a muttered curse, he tossed the cups at the table, missing by a fair margin. "Oh, well. I'm hungry anyway." He chose a bowl of something with the consistency of flan at random and began to eat.

"Sir," Davies tried again. The captain, who was visibly swaying on his feet, responded to the interruption by filling the bowl of the spoon and throwing it in the security officer's face. Davies had always hated dealing with drunks. It usually got messy in one way or another. Reason rarely worked, they were often absurdly erratic and depending on the species, they could be very dangerous. He felt his temper fraying.

"Very mature, sir," Davies scowled, starting to lose his patience. "Do those pips on your shoulder indicate your age?"

Kiel responded to the comment by throwing the whole bowl at him. Davies twisted at the waist and dodged the bowl, but the captain was really angry at this new development. "I was enjoying that!" He took a swing at Davies and wound up stumbling by without coming close.

"Wonderful," Davies muttered. He didn't know what had put the captain in this condition, but it almost didn't matter. The older man was out of control and needed to be taken in hand. Hope he doesn't court-martial me for this. Trying to be firm but gentle, he took the captain's arm in a 'come-along' grip and tried to guide him out, while speaking calmly and trying to get him to at least not make too much fuss. A glance around, showed the others had their hands full.

The ambassador was gone, probably carried out on a stretcher to be beamed up. The science officer was gone as well, but the ball players were putting up a fight using whatever foodstuffs came to hand. Realizing he'd get no assistance, he turned back to the captain in time to receive a right cross to the chin. Staggering back slightly, he set himself for another blow, but the captain had turned back toward the banquet table. Davies stared in disbelief as Kiel chose another dish at random and started to eat.

"Captain," Davies began, trying to hold onto his patience. "You must return to the ship. You are needed there."

"What did I tell you about giving me orders?" Kiel turned suddenly and began poking him in the chest again as he lectured. Unfortunately, he used the hand that was holding the spoon he was eating with. Unlike the spoons either were used to, however, this one came to a point, the better for digging in to the food the Zafien favored. On the second poke, the point broke the skin and slid between his ribs roughly two inches.

Davies blinked in surprise before the pain hit him. He responded with a right cross that laid the captain out.

"Ensign Davies!" Maktin shouted from across the hall, "What do you think you're doing?" Davies managed to turn and Maktin's reprimand ended before it could begin.

OOOOOOOOO

"Eventually, medical got the blame," Davies shrugged. "While nothing at the banquet was dangerous by itself, they hadn't taken into account the chemical reaction that occurred between one of the sauces and a particular spice. For the Zafien, it creates a mild euphoria. For humans, it acts on the system like alcohol and causes hallucinations to boot. The Zafien had no idea it would affect their guests that way."

"Something like that would be hard to catch," Riker allowed. "I'm guessing a few procedures got reviewed after that."

"Probably," Davies shrugged, not really knowing or caring. "I spent a couple of days in sickbay along with some very embarrassed diplomats and Starfleet officers. No one really wanted to dwell on what they'd done while under the influence. All the captain said about me punching him was that I should have done that in the first place."