Chapter 2
It had been several days since Hogan and Olsen were taken to the infirmary to recover from an ordeal that still gave them (and Wilson) the willies. Shot while fleeing Gestapo headquarters, the two received medical attention down in the tunnels from Wilson and several temporary visitors to the camp. Initially, two men found in the area were captured by Hogan's men and took up residence at Stalag 13. Later, their colleagues from Naval Intelligence (at least that is what they said) showed up to retrieve their mates, and wound up spending several days in captivity. One of the men, thought to be a medic, turned out to be a doctor, and without warning, he and a female spy spirited Hogan and Olsen away for treatment. The hapless Wilson was taken along for the ride.
All three Americans thought they saw wild and crazy things while they were away, but the three agreed to not speak of what they experienced. Whoever and whatever these strange people were and the agency they worked for, at this point, did not matter. They saved both Hogan's and Olsen's lives. The Kommandant believed whatever story Hogan told him, and all that was left of their ordeal were scars and odd memories. Hogan was missing his dog tags, but fortunately his German captors did not notice, and the metal shop quickly made a new set.
Wilson had just finished checking his patients' scars, and wondering what happened to the stitches, when the door to the infirmary opened, revealing Kinch and two visitors from another barracks. His mind went blank for a moment as he tried to place the man standing behind Foster. Trill, Crill, no…Brill. That was it. Knowing something urgent was up-Kinch wouldn't bring in two men from another barracks for a social call-Wilson whispered, "this better be important. They need their rest."
There was a screen separating the cots from the rest of the infirmary, but the visitors quickly gained the attention of the other patient in the room, a sergeant from Barrack's 19 recovering from a concussion after a fall. He gingerly rolled over. "Hey, fellas."
"Brown, get back down." Wilson ordered, and then sighed as Hogan's voice rang out.
"Wilson, is that Kinch? Who's with him?"
"It is important." Kinch, turning so Brown lost his view of the proceedings, motioned for Wilson to join him over by the door. "Look at this. Show him, Brill. And, yes, it is alive."
"What the heck is that?" Wilson stared, and then pointed to the door. "No puppies here. I don't care how therapeutic they are. Not while there's a chance of infection."
"It's not a puppy. Look." Brill held it out.
"Ah. Fascinating." Wilson picked it up and, without thinking, began stroking the mysterious unknown creature. "From the zoo?"
"We thought maybe Olsen could identify it. Or it could be an experiment," Kinch explained. "You know the orders. Anything unusual or suscipious…"
"Needs to be reported." Wilson nodded. "All right. They're both awake, as I just finished a quick exam."
"Can I come?" asked Brown.
"No!" was the chorus in response.
The tribble purred in contentment as it was carried about. It had grown since eating, and its reproductive system, mysteriously frozen for a while, was gearing up, ready to pop out a new generation. It would happen automatically, and the infants would instinctively eat and thrive.
HhHhH
Kira, despite her best instincts and wish to leave both the tribbles and earth's past behind her, obeyed orders, went to Bajor, and asked her planet's religious leaders to "lend DS9 the orb of time."
They said absolutely not.
After she explained the reasons and rationale behind the request, the vedeks conferred for a moment, and then burst out laughing.
Nervously fingering her earring, Kira tried to explain the consequences for the space-time continuum, and the fate of the
Federation if history changed. She attempted to appeal to their better nature, but was strongly rebuffed.
Demoralized and defeated, she contacted the space station.
Communicating with Sisko, she recounted her trip. "I even explained what would happen if the tribbles engulfed that part of Germany and how important it was to have a Federation to counter the Cardassians, sir."
Sisko was calmly rolling his baseball over and over in his hands. He seemed bemused by Kira's tale, a fact that aggravated the major even further. "What did they say to that, Major?"
"If history was changed, wouldn't we know it by now?"
"They always say that." Sisko grinned and let out a sigh. "Perhaps a visit from the emissary might change their mind."
Kira smiled. She knew Sisko was reluctant to use his position as the Emissary and his relationship with the prophets, or as many coined them, the wormhole aliens. But when a bit of persuasion was necessary, he jumped right in.
This time, Sisko used the communications network to contact Bajor. Using his experience with the non-linear prophets (or wormhole aliens), and having dealt with one too many trips in the past, plus his calm manner, he was able to secure a loan. Kira was able to take the orb, promising to get it back as soon as possible—actually considering it is the orb of time, maybe a few seconds after she took it…she shook her head, shrugging off the onset of the headache always accompanying talk of time travel, and returned to the station.
Once in the Defiant and safely over 1943 Earth, the on-board crew, consisting of Sisko, Kira, Dax, Odo, Bashir and O'Brien, decided on the next step. Worf, having no interest in dealing with tribbles, had remained on the space station.
"Can you read any tribble signatures, old man?" Sisko asked Dax.
"No luck, Benjamin. If there is only one dead one down there, we won't read anything. Sensors may not even detect one live one. Depending on where it is, there could be interference from a number of things."
"We need to try and reconfigure the sensors. That could take some time." The chief was underneath a console, working on upgrading some of the equipment.
Odo stepped forward. "I can beam down, change into a bird and fly over the camp. Perhaps I'll see something."
"Great idea, Constable. Hopefully, we won't have to send anyone else down there," Sisko said.
Odo beamed down in the woods near the prison camp. He morphed into a hawk, and took off into the sky. Passing the towers, he flew by unnoticed and dropped down a bit to check out the rest of the camp.
HhHhH
Wilson, accompanied by Kinch, Foster and Brill, headed over to where Olsen and Hogan were resting. Seeing his second followed by two men from other barracks, a suspicious Hogan propped himself up on his elbow.
"What's wrong, Kinch?" he asked, knowing the radioman would not have brought these other two men over if something serious had not occurred.
"Hopefully, nothing, Colonel. But Brill here found something strange."
The corporal held out his hands.
Hogan stared. "You came here to show me a duster?"
"It looks like a rolled up puppy," countered Olsen.
"It's alive, sir. But not dangerous. See?"
Hogan took the ball of fluff out of Brill's hands. Immediately, he felt an unusual sense of calm come over his body. Without thinking, he began stroking the thing for a moment, stopping and holding it upside down, and then rotating it. "Fascinating. Where's its mouth? Here, Olsen. Take a look." He tossed it over to the other bed. Olsen deftly caught it, and did the same as Hogan. Rotating it over and over, he finally stopped and began stroking it as well.
"Thought it may be indigenous. That's why we brought it over. You ever see anything like it, Brian?" asked Kinch.
The Outside Man shook his head. "Nope." He sunk back into his pillows-he was still recovering from surgery, after all—and then handed the strange life form over to Wilson. "Think the Krauts have something to do with this, Colonel?"
"A secret weapon?" Wilson laughed. "This?"
"It is strange. Kinch, call London and give them a description. See if they can give you any information. Meanwhile, have someone monitor the coffee pot and Klink's calls, 24/7. Until we find out what this is, we can't be too careful." Although he was naturally drawn to the creature, Hogan was suspicious. After all, it was war.
"Yes, sir. What should we do with it in the meantime?" Kinch asked.
"I'm calling it, Fred," quipped Brill. "I'm willing to keep an eye on it."
"Fine by me," Foster added.
"Just watch for allergies," Wilson, who was deathly allergic to cats, ordered.
HhHhH
Odo beamed back up to the ship and reported no sign of tribbles anywhere in the compound. "I could return as a mouse and start checking the buildings," he offered.
Sisko declined the offer. "Too dangerous. You could be stepped on. We'll have to risk beaming down closer so we can use a tricorder. Doctor, you and the chief will beam down outside the compound after dark."
HhHhH
Back on the space station, the return of the hated tribbles, even if it was in the 20th century, put Worf in a really bad mood. He planned on drowning his sorrows. Worf plopped down on a barstool. "Prune juice. Make it a large," he told Quark, who hurried over to the bar as soon as the Ferengi spied the Klingon heading over.
"Right away." Quark came back a few seconds later with the warrior's drink. He waited for Worf to take a few slugs of the beverage, and then spoke.
"They left you in charge of the station. Not up for tracking tribbles in Nazi Germany?"
"How did you know?" Worf growled. "Never mind." He took another slug.
"You know what I never understood with you Starfleet people," Quark stated as he wiped down the bar. "Why they send the entire command staff on missions. Never made sense to me. You have plenty of staff and expendable red shirts, gold shirts, whatever the color is now."
"Captain Picard usually stayed on the Enterprise during away missions. But, you do have a point." Worf took another slug. "However, since this involves deliberate time travel, need to know is kept to a minimum." Worf finished the drink. He wiped his mouth, and then leaned forward. "And if I hear of you breathing even a syllable of this information to anyone, you will have to deal with me."
"No need for threats," Quark groveled. "I never heard a word."
HhHhH
Brill and Foster brought Fred back to their barracks, where their bunkmates happily took turns holding and caressing the fluff ball.
It was now after midnight, and Brill woke up to the sound of Fred purring. Realizing Fred had not eaten anything since he found it by the scrap pile, he hopped down from his bunk. It must be hungry or thirsty. He had no potato peelings, but the least he could do was give it some water. Quietly, he filled a small bowl and brought it over to the table. He couldn't quite figure out how to get Fred to drink; after all, he still couldn't find a mouth. Afraid Fred would drown if he put him in the bowl, Brill spilled a bit of liquid by the sink and then placed Fred on top of the small puddle. He saw Fred slowly move, as if the fluff ball was happy to finally get a drink. After he felt Fred had enough water, Brill picked up the ball and moved back to his bunk.
The next morning, Brill was startled awake by movement in his bed. Throwing off the thin blanket, he stared for a bit, then quickly hopped off, in his haste, bumping into his bunkmate.
"Watch it?"
"Sorry." Brill pointed. "Look."
"Hey, everyone. Brill's a grandfather!"
"Guess Fred should be Frederica!" Someone patted Brill on the back.
"Here, I've been saving this for a special occasion, but maybe you should have it," joked another one of the men as he dug a cigar out of his footlocker and handled it to Brill.
The corporal grinned. "Thanks guys. Now what?"
"Well," Foster said in the quiet way he had. 'We inform the colonel, and then see about getting these critters something to eat," he said not unkindly.
"I'll see if I can get some more scraps after roll call," Brill said, as he began handing the infants over to the rest of the men for stroking and cuddling.
After roll call, Foster headed over to the infirmary and found Hogan and Olsen dressed and seated around a table. "Any word from London, sir?," he asked after informing the two of the newborn creatures.
"No idea what they are," he said. "They checked with an expert at the zoo, and also at Oxford. One of them is German zoologist, and he should know. So, I'm at a loss as to what to do. Klink is showing no knowledge of these things." Hogan smiled at Foster. "Good news...Wilson said we can be released in a few hours. Run by my barracks and let them know."
"That is good news, sir." Foster raised his eyebrows. "Geez, it's only been a few days since you got back. Light duty, I assume?"
Olsen laughed. "Wilson will have our hide if we he finds out we're overdoing it."
"I'll go over right away." Foster hurried over to Barracks two, leaving Hogan and Olsen to continue their card game.
HhHhH
"I recommend we all stay up here," Jadzia informed the crew. "According to our historical records, it is too dangerous to beam down at night. Too many raids. And there are maneuvers in the area."
Sisko sighed. "After the last fiasco, the last thing I need is to have you two taken captive by Germans, not to mention killed or injured by an air raid."
"I second that, Captain," said Bashir.
"Last thing I would want," added O'Brien.
"Are you sure we can wait that long?" asked Odo. "I'm willing to go back down."
Sisko shook his head. "Don't want to put you in danger, Constable. We'll wait..unless...yes, let's try something."
One of the primary complaints about time travel and its effects is why the travelers don't set out again...if they have power to control it, that is...to make things right. Even Kira conceded this point, and the group attempted to set out before Bashir and O'Brien's capture in an attempt to thwart the transport or discovery of the tribble before it happened.
Several hours later...
An exhausted and demoralized crew sat in the galley licking their wounds.
Dax shrugged. "I guess the orb won't cooperate. Maybe we can't be where we already are?"
"Didn't stop that Kliingon, Darvin," commented Odo. "There were two of him on that station at the same time."
Bashir reached into a first aid kit on the wall and popped some aspirin. "Time travel gives me a headache."
"It is often hard to understand the ways of the prophets," Kira stated. "Whatever the reasons are, we have to abide by them."
A seated Sisko looked up at his crew. "We will wait."
Several days later, the Defiant's computers showed no air raids took place anywhere near Hamelburg that day or night. After donning air corps uniforms, (just in case they were spotted) a grumbling O'Brien, accompanied by an enthusiastic Bashir, beamed down to an isolated location outside of the prison camp. It was 0300 hours, a bit damp, and the sky was overcast. Earlier that evening, a subcutaneous communications device was implanted under their skin, eliminating the chance of a communicator being discovered and confiscated. Tricorders could be set on self-destruct-just like on the old Earth TV program, Mission Impossible-joked the spy-happy Bashir, who also brought down a small medical tricorder and a replicated army medic's kit.
As the Defiant crew waited for word, they continued to work on enhancing the ship's sensors, which to everyone's distress, were still not working was well as they hoped.
"Anything, yet, Chief?" asked Bashir.
O'Brien shook his head. "Just reading humans and dogs," he reported. The two walked another half a kilometer, getting precipitously close to the camp perimeter. "The tree stump entrance is over that way," he pointed. He held out the equipment. "Wait, I'm getting something."
Bashir paused in his tracks, and looked over the chief's shoulder. "Oh, no."
O'Brien activated his communications device. "Defiant, two to beam up."
They were surrounded as soon as they rematerialzied.
"Well?" Sisko asked.
"Houston, we have a problem," was Bashir's reply.
HhHhH
"Hogan, we have a serious problem," whined Klink. The Kommandant was so distraught, he ordered the recovering American colonel to his office. "This has to be one of your tricks."
"Me, sir?" Hogan gave the Kommandant his best innocent puppy dog face. "I had nothing to do with this," he stated firmly as he stroked the animal in his hands.
"Hoogggaaan! I left my lunch on my desk for half hour and look what happened. This is my chicken sandwich and coffee!"
Putting down the animal, Hogan stepped over to the other side of the desk and picked up the lid covering Klink's food. "Hmmm." He removed the creature resting on top of the sandwich. "I swear on scout's honor and as an officer that neither I nor my men had anything whatsoever to do with this."
"They are taking over the camp." Klink walked over to the window and pulled open the shade. "Look."
Hogan followed and glanced over the compound. The creatures were everywhere, and both the guards and prisoners were neglecting their duties.
"Well, it has been a lot more peaceful here," Hogan joked. "My medic tells me my blood pressure has dropped."
"They are in our food supply and machinery. My secretary can't even type properly."
Hogan took a seat, wincing a bit as he cleared a path on Klink's desk and plopped his feet up on the furniture. He rubbed his chin for a moment.
"One of my men in Barracks 19 is a math teacher, and he's noticed that they reproduce at an exponential rate, sir. If this keeps up, within days, we'll have hundreds of thousands in the camp." Hogan removed his feet from the desk and then sat up straight. "This has to be one of your Nazi scientific experiments. there's no other explanation. Or a Gestapo test. Or a secret weapon." Without thinking, Hogan picked up one of the creatures and resumed his stroking.
"If it is, I was not informed. And what kind of Gestapo test?"
Hogan shrugged. "I have no idea, but if you don't react the way they want, who knows? I hear spring comes very late on the Russian front."
Klink began to pace. "I'll call General Burkhalter. I have no choice."
Darvin was the Klingon disguised as a human in the two tribble episodes of the Star trek series. He was responsible for poisoning the grain shipment in the original series, and for going back in time to kill Captain Kirk in the DS9 tribble episode.
In The Trouble of Tribbles, Kirk's lunch...chicken sandwich and coffee was ruined by the tribble infestation.