Act 1

Commander Log – Stardate 22261.09: As we approach Starbase 33, we must be weary of the Romulans. There have been some civil revolts going on within the weakened Empire and we need to make sure that it stays on their side of the Neutral Zone. But, on a personal note, I will not miss us getting rid of Crewman Doog'ren, who will be transferred to a Federation prison transport at the Starbase.

The senior staff sat around the briefing room table. No one said a word, and the silence was palpable. Awkward in its nature.

On the left side of the table, the four female senior staff members sat. At the furthest seat from the front of the table, Operations Chief Yoshi Tano sat. The Korean woman's chin was in her hand, the elbow propped against the table. She had a glazed look, staring at a spot on the bare wall.

Next to her sat Councilor Judy Ziz. The Trill was absently picking at one of her spots, one that barely stood just above the collar of her blue uniform. Her other hand was drumming on the table. Again, it was all absent-mindedly.

Second to last, or in this case, second from the head of the table, Doctor T'Lal sat. The Vulcan was looking down at the table. Her fingers were laced together, but the index fingers stood straight up, pressed together as if they were a small tower high above the hills of her knuckles.

On the right-side seat of the head of the table, Chief Science Officer Mila Greks sat. The second officer yawned loudly, rubbing her eyelids as she did.

Sele Kol, chief engineer, was sitting on the right side of the table three chairs down. He scratched at his cleanshaven chin. The Cardassian family bracelet slid down his arm ever so slightly, clashing with his Bajoran nose-ridges. ThThe

To his right sat Security Chief Z'org. The Gorn was picking at his razor-sharp teeth with a long claw from his hand. His tail stuck out of the back of the chair. The chair was custom made, so his tail had a slot that it could fit in.

Last but not least, Commander James Enviro sat, fingers laced together and slightly swinging his seat from side to side. Not enough to bump into the Gorn though. He'd not have wanted to discover what a Gorn would do if they were bumped into.

The chair at the head of the table was what caused this awkward, bored silence. It was completely empty. Its occupant should have been already in it. Their fearless leader, Captain Lillian Traz.

"Computer," a weary Commander called out. "What time is it?"

"07:15 hours."

The entire group groaned. Even their normally unflappable Vulcan let out a rather audible breath through her nostrils. Their morning briefing should have already started by now.

"Can we please just start this meeting ourselves?" Sele asked. "I really want to get to work on correcting those micro-fractures along the dorsal hull."

"We need to wait for the Captain," Mila pointed out. "This briefing is supposed to be about our rendezvous at Starbase 33 with the other ships. She's got all that information."

"And yet she isss not here," Z'org pointed out.

"Commander Enviro to Captain Traz," James called, tapping on his comm-badge. No response came. He tapped it again. "Captain Traz, do you copy?"

There was still no response. James shook his head. What was going on? Why hadn't she responded?

"Computer locate the Captain," he called.

"Captain Traz is in holodeck one."

The entire group seemed to turn at once to James. As if he somehow knew what was so important on the holodeck that she would be late to the briefing. He even heard similar opinions being voiced.

"Want me to fetch her?" Mila asked.

"No," James shook his head. "I will."

"I knew you would appear to my lair, Wonder Woman," the man said, turning with a fierce laugh. The man stood at roughly 1.79 meters. He was lanky, a protruding jaw. Green hair fell in dirty lanks around the white painted skin and purple three-piece suit and purple fedora. "You have never been one to simply leave a friend in need."

"That's right, Mr. J," a woman, standing a little shorter at 1.67 meters said. She wore her blond hair in twin ponytails that invoked an image of a cheerleader. She wore a leather jacket that exposed her midriff and shoulders but pressed her breasts up. "This chick-a-dees not nearly as smart as you are."

"Silence Harley!" the man snapped, hitting her across the face with the back of his hand. "Can't you see I'm a little busy?"

The woman, Harley, had tears filling her eyes as she turned and ran from the room. The purple-coated man rubbed his temple between his fingers. His eyes closed in annoyance.

"I'm going to have to be extra handsy now or else she'll be in a bad mood all day," the man said.

Captain Traz stood there but had anyone of her crew had seen her now, they would never have imagined that this was their captain. Instead of the modest Starfleet uniform of black jacket over a red-tunic, black pants uniform, she was wearing battle armor. The breastplate fit snugly over her bosom, exposing her upper chest, shoulders and arms. She wore gauntlets over her wrists and greaves over the front of her shins, straps tightening it around the calf. Her upper leg was completely exposed.

She wore a tiara with a star on the front and carried a single-handed sword, a circular shield and a rope that hung from the belt around her leather skirt and breastplate. She lifted her sword and pointed the tip at the man.

"You should be nicer to Harley Quinn," she told him. "For some unknown reason, she actually loves you. A sick, twisted love but love all the same. You should appreciate that, Joker."

"That's the best kind of love," the Joker held up a long, white painted finger.

Lillian rolled her eyes. She honestly had no idea why even a holographic character would want to be in an abusive relationship. Especially when the object of the affections is towards a mass murderer. But, finding the psychology behind such behavior was not the point of this holodeck time.

"Give me Flash and I might consider letting you go unharmed," she declared, keeping her sword pointed at his throat.

"I've always liked that about you, Wonder Woman," Joker commented, stroking his pointed chin as he spoke. "You have no qualms about doing what needs to be done. Unlike Bats. I'm afraid his lack of stomach for such things will one day prove his downfall."

"I have no time for your games," Traz responded. "Give me Flash or you will not need worry about Batman. You will worry about me."

The Joker chuckled and clapped his hands together. "And how are you going to make me worried when you will be busy?" he asked, holding his hands together and a gleeful look on his face.

"What are you…." She began but there was a massive eruption of stone and mortar as the entire right wall seemed to come apart. She barely had time to glimpse a flash of red and blue before something hard hit her, sent her flying through the left wall.

Even though the holodeck safeties were on, the force of the blow had buried her under a pile of rubble. Her sword and shield were gone. Presumably they had been sent flying when she had been struck. Grinding her teeth, she thrust herself up. Broken bricks flew apart from her as she looked, hair somehow immaculate. She couldn't prevent the amused smile. Somehow these superhero holocomics managed to keep the hair of the females perfect.

She had been completely thrown into an alleyway between two buildings of Gotham. Unlike most holodeck comics set in the DC Universe, Gotham was actually currently during daylight hours. Usually they were in the dark of night.

But her smile faltered as she saw what was coming at her. It was Superman, his red cape floating behind him as he came at her steadily. The heat from the lasers behind his eyes were causing red smoke to fly upwards.

"Ah, an Insane Superman story," she smirked. "I know how to deal with this."

She crossed her forearms and prepared to smash them together. The shockwave it would cause would knock Superman back. Then she could use the rope at her side, the Lasso of Truth, to help break the mental control over him.

But before she could slam them together, Superman had flown at her. It was a pillar of multi-colors that was impossible to track. His fist plowed into her stomach, and while it couldn't hurt her, her body still reacted to the punch, her upper body bending forward. Then a hand grabbed her by the throat and she started to ascend, Superman's hatred filled face looking at her. She could feel the pressure to her throat like iron bars. Again, had the holodeck safeties been compromised, she'd have already been dead.

A sound of a door opening made her turn her eye as far as she could. The sound drew Superman's gaze as well.

"What are you doing, Captain?" her First Officer suddenly asked her. At that moment Superman fired lasers from his eyes, aimed straight at the man.

"Computer, freeze program." She ordered and with a small beep, the program froze. Although she had the awkward sensation of being suspended by her feet. In actuality it was no more than two meters but it felt much higher. "I'm running a Federation Justice League holodeck program. What are you doing here, James?"

"It's 07:20," he reported to her. "The morning briefing was supposed to start twenty minutes ago but you never showed up."

That was odd. How had she lost track of time? Must have been having too much fun.

"Computer, end program," she called, grunting between the grip of the hand that held her throat. But the program didn't dissolve. Everything remained in place. "Computer, end program."

"Must be a malfunction with the computer," the Commander said to her. "I'll manually shut it off for you. Where is the holodeck access panel?"

"Behind me on the alleyway wall," she grunted. "The boxing advertisement. Hurry, it's getting a little hard to breath."

This was indeed very peculiar to James. His captain was in armor, being held in the sky by a man with a cape. And trying to shoot him with phaser beams from his eyes.

James stepped up to the brick wall, and he could see the outline of the holodeck controls cover panel. It was indeed the boxing advertisement, a really old one that was torn in a few places as had yellowed with age. He pried loose the panel and indeed saw the glitch.

"It looks like one of the relays has gone bad," he reported to her. "It also appears that the I'm about to shut it off, but I'll have to catch you when you fall. I'll only have two seconds to turn and catch you once it ends."

"You better catch me," Traz said, her voice becoming strangled.

He pushed the red off button on the LCARS screen. He at once turned and placed himself with hands held out so he could catch her between his hands. Two meters wasn't a large fall but it wasn't exactly a height he thought his captain should be falling.

Even as the holodeck environment vanished with a ripple, Traz was suddenly whipped to the side and backwards. Her exclamation of surprise sent her plummeting. His own eyes were wide as suddenly she began to plummet, not straight but with back aimed towards the floor. He had only an instant to turn his arms so he could distribute the weight and not be sent toppling over her.

With an 'oof!' she landed in his arms. She wasn't as heavy as he had expected she would be. But he held her for a few seconds, while she caught her breath.

"I enjoy 'simulated realism' as much as the next person," she said, putting a hand to her throat, "But this mode at times feels like holodeck safeties having been turned off."

James, however, didn't quiet hear her. Instead, he looked at his captain, in her armor and suddenly had a stirring of emotion and couldn't help but think she was an extremely beautiful person. One hand was clamped around her bare shoulder and the other on her bare thigh. He couldn't help but notice that the skin was smooth and soft to the touch.

"You planning on putting me down anytime soon?" she teased him.

"What?" he asked, switching to her deep blue eyes.

"Or are you planning on carrying me to the morning briefing?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh!" his eyes went wide and he set her down, putting his hands on her waist to help give her additional balance. Their eyes met and for a moment they just stared into each other's eyes. "I….I think we should be getting to the briefing."

"Probably," she said, and they pulled back from each other. "Although, I should probably change. I don't think that my costume is exactly Starfleet appropriate."

"There might be some questions raised," James agreed, giving her a small smile.

"Here you are, Commander," the Bolian lieutenant said. He handed over the PADD to James as they stood on the promenade of Starbase 33. It wasn't very busy, but there was certainly no shortage of Starfleet personnel on the base. "We will take charge of the prisoner. It will take us ten days at warp 8 to get to the Penal Colony on New Zealand."

"Very good," James finished scanning the document. He turned to Z'org, who stood impatiently. "Mr. Z'org. Turn over the prisoner to Lieutenant Djlo."

"Yesss sssir," the Gorn replied and two security officers pushed Crewman Doog'ren out.

The Andorian was dressed in grey prison overalls, having been forced to surrender his uniform. He had binders that weighed down his arms. Unable to lift his arms more than a few centimeters in any direction, he stared resolutely down on the ground. His antennae curled inwards dejectedly.

"Have a good day gentleman," the Lieutenant bid them.

James nodded as the small group of Starfleet Security turned and marched away, their prisoner in the middle of their small entourage. He let out an exhale of breath, grateful that he didn't need to ever worry about that Andorian ever again.

He turned to walk away and crashed head-first into a female human, the two of them taking a surprised step back. The woman glared at him, putting her fists on her hips. Her blond hair was tied back, revealing a round but hard face. And perhaps one of the most athletic builds he had ever seen on a person.

"Watch it!" she snapped.

"I was standing here," he retorted. "Perhaps you should watch where you are going, Lieutenant!"

"I'm no Lieutenant!" she puffed out her sizable bosom at him angrily. "I'm Commander Camille Clark, the new first officer of the USS Valkyrie! You should declare yourself to me, you lumbering ox!"

He glanced to her collar, and he didn't see a third pip there. Although he did see the empty round slot with which one would be place. He scowled at her. How dare she bark orders at him! He was senior to her, even if she thought she was of the same rank.

"Commander Clarke," the petite woman behind her said, bushing back her long brunette hair behind her ear. "Captain Bernard wants us on the ship by 1500 hours. We need to move on."

"Yes, Ensign Norte," she threw her nose in the air. "Come, let's not bother with these fools any longer."

The ensign threw the Commander an apologetic look as the two women set off. James threw an eye their direction, watching the women continue their path, cutting a course through the flow of people. He turned and glared at the Gorn, who had a smug look on his elongated face.

"I thought you were supposed to be on top of security risks like that woman!" he growled.

"Thisss one believed you could handle her yourssself," Z'org hissed in a halting, choppy fashion. Perhaps a Gorn chuckle?

He snorted and looked away, began to walk off. His footsteps were determined, ready to get back to the ship in time for the briefing with Admiral Boombly Edeot. He only wished he had thought of that name. Well, at least maybe he'd be able to fire a few torpedoes straight into Romulan space.

"Jim? Jimmy Enviro?" a voice called out, bringing him to a stop.

He turned and his eyes alighted upon a man of similar age as him. The youthful exuberance was gone, replaced with sunken features that bore testament to the long, difficult years. His once nicely combed hair was now long. Yet he couldn't help but smile at his old friend.

"Nick?" he asked, the other man stepping up to him. They embraced each other in a bearhug, thumping each other on the back. "When did you get here?"

"Two days ago on a Ferengi merchant vessel," Nick said to him. "The big-lobed scum ditched me. Left me to my own devices. I haven't been able to get passage anywhere."

The more he spoke, the more a cloud seemed to pass over his face. A cloud of resentment and anger. James knew only too well that the good cheer of his old friend had long been wrung out of him like water from a wrung rag. Much more prickly and less inclined to be forgiving.

"Z'org," he said, trying to change the mood. "I'd like you to meet an old Academy buddy of mine, Nicholas Locarno. Nick, my chief of security, Lieutenant Commander Z'org."

"Pleased to meet you," Nick said, holding out his hand. The Gorn looked down at his hand but didn't extend his own. But he nodded instead.

"Forgive thisss one," the Gorn said. "Thisss one doesss not like touching the flesh of other racccesss. Unlesssss it isss to feed."

"Not a problem," Nick said, holding a hand up in a moment of genuine good nature. He turned his entire attention back to his old friend. "So….you are a Commander. You said you had been made first officer last transmission you sent you. The Wayne, am I correct?"

"That correct," he affirmed. "Look, if you want, you can come aboard my ship."

The cloud passed over Nicholas Locarno's face again. "I spent fifteen years on a Starfleet prison vessel," he said curtly. "Why would I want to get onboard another Starfleet ship? Hell, I'm only tolerating this starbase because I got dumped here and no one wants to give an ex-convict a ride out of here."

He seemed to come to his sense, realizing he was being bitter. He tried pulling off a half-heated smile.

"Besides," he said in false cheeriness. "Even if I was inclined, I would need to get permission from the captain of any vessel I got on. Part of my parole."

James had heard more than enough of his bitter rants about the unfairness of his punishment and the terms of his parole. At times it seemed like Nick had forgotten that he had voluntarily taken on those consequences for his fellow cadets. To protect them.

"Enough of me," Nicholas pressed on and put a shoulder on James' arm. He looked him dead in the eye. "How are you doing, Jimmy? You were in a bad place….before. You doing okay now?"

He shrugged. "Well, I am doing better," he assured his old friend. "These last few months on the Wayne has done me good."

"I'm glad to hear it," Nick said, his voice sincere. "I was worried…."

"There was a time when I wasn't sure if I was going to be okay to be honest," James said, accidentally interrupting his friend. "Between the Borg and Leslie leaving me…."

"Leslie?" Nick interrupted him in turn. A frown was on his face. The next words he spoke very slowly. "You don't mean Leslie…."

"Connor," James finished for him. "We were doing good. Or at least I thought we were. She left me right after I accepted the assignment to serve on the Wayne. Why?"

Nicholas seemed lost in thought for a few seconds. During this time, his eyes, long since having the joy drained out by his years in prison, never left his face. He rounded his shoulders as if coming to a decision. One that he didn't like.

"On second thought, I think I will accept your offer of a ride off this dump."