Thanks to jasminevr, The Odd Little Turtle, daywalkr82, swiglo3000, WhiteLadyoftheRing, mattb3671, Zaratan, kpandron, JPMod, Uru Baen, whitem, Louis Mielke, Emerald Dark Night, strength-91-possibility-none, Ezbok58a, Dennis, nmorgendorffer, SariahSariah, surfost, Markv1.0, Yuri Sistelbe, JAM2.0, Darkcloud1, Moss Royal, Commander Argus, Jokerisdaking, momike, conan98002, Cabriel, campy, CajunBear73, The Halfa Wannabe, Vince Stevens, Wanderer3, TexasDad, vanillalillies, Ace Ian Combat, Jezriann2.0, Ultimate Naco Topping, Kail Blade, and MichaelCross for reviewing.

Thanks also to everyone who reviewed Kim Possible: December 31st.

A special thank you, as always, to campy for his invaluable beta and proofing work; I hope he enjoys the gagh I sent him.

Remember: write a review, get a personal response beamed directly you!

KP belongs to Disney, TNG to Paramount.

I.

Given his druthers, Ron Stoppable would have been back in his quarters enjoying a romantic meal with his new girlfriend.

Girlfriend. Kim Possible is my girlfriend! Ron couldn't help but marvel at his good fortune. A lopsided grin covered his face as he recalled kissing her earlier that day.

"So, I assume that you and Kim reached an understanding?" Guinan asked, an impish gleam in her eyes.

"Oh yeah!" Ron replied, unable to contain his enthusiasm. "Hey, wait a second … how'd you know?"

Guinan smiled cryptically. "I knew."

Ron looked at Guinan, then shook his head. If he couldn't be with Kim, spending time with Enterprise's enigmatic bartender was as good a way as any to spend his evening. "You are something else, Guinan."

"Why thank you, Stoppable. I'll take that as a compliment."

Ron could only laugh.

"So," she asked. "How did you wind up a chef?"

"Kim," Ron answered, matter-of-factly.

"Possible taught you how to cook?"

Ron recoiled in horror. "Don't even joke. KP is the most amazing person I know. But her cooking isn't fit for sentient beings." He shuddered before continuing, recalling some of her forays into the kitchen. "Ya know, Kim was really my only friend for most of my life."

Guinan looked inquisitively at Ron.

"Hey, you said it yourself. I'm weird. And I wasn't athletic and I'm not the smartest guy around. Growing up, most of the other kids didn't like me."

Guinan sensed she was in for a good story.

"I met KP in pre-school. Some Andorian creep was bullying her. I didn't like it."

"So you stood up for her. Very chivalrous."

Ron laughed. "I tried to. I gave the little thug a lecture on how we should behave in the playground. He knocked me flat on my back. Then Kim walloped him. We've been best friends ever since."

Guinan laughed. "Okay, so where does cooking come into the picture?"

"Well, I got older. I started messing around in the kitchen and I was good at it. Even taught cooking in High School for a little while. Naturally, being me, I did nothing with it. Then we approached graduation. I'd made a couple of other friends by then, but the only one who really mattered to me was Kim. I couldn't even imagine being apart from her."

"You loved her even back then." This was a statement, not a question.

"Huh. Maybe I did; I guess I just didn't know it," he replied. Ron sat quietly for a few moments before continuing. "Anyway, Kim was accepted into the Academy. I just assumed I'd move to San Francisco to be near her. Then Kim did something I'll never forget …

"It'll be so cool, KP. You'll be at the Academy, and I'll be hangin' in San Fran!" Ron really didn't have any plans for after graduation. He was just looking forward to a life free of Steve Barkin, detention, and the bullies of D Hall.

"But what will you do, Ron?" Kim asked nervously.

Ron was surprised by the unfamiliar tremor in his best friend's voice. "What do you mean?"

"In San Francisco. What will you do?"

"Well, I dunno. But we'll be together. Just like always. Earth, here we come!"

"No," she said quietly, but forcefully.

Ron was stunned. "No? What do you mean 'no'?"

"Ron, you're my best friend in the galaxy. But I'm not just going to let you hang out at the Academy." Kim's expression was pained, but determined. "You have to have your own life …"

"Oh. I see," Ron said hotly. "I guess now that you're going into Starfleet, I'm not good enough for you …"

"Ron!" she said, her eyes beginning to water.

"Have my own life. I get it, KP. Because there's no room for a loser like me in yours anymore!" Ron turned and stalked to the door.

"Ron Stoppable! Don't you dare leave!" Kim ordered through now freely flowing tears.

Ron could hear Kim trying to control her crying. He stopped and turned. Kim never cried. Ever.

"Ron, you are not a loser. But, but …"

"But what, Kim?"

"You've coasted through school and you don't have any plans for the future. I just want you to be the best Ron you can be. There's a reason I call you Potential Boy; you have talents, but you don't use them. Maybe that's my fault … You can't spend your life just palling around with me … It's not like they're going to let you hang out on a starship. I'm sorry."

Ron looked at his friend of more than thirteen years. She was gambling. He knew that. She was wagering that her friendship meant enough to him that he'd accept her ultimatum. Part of him was tempted to tell her where to get off. But he saw the look in her eyes, and it was one of fear, something he did not associate with Kim Possible. He understood her fear: she knew she was gambling and that she could lose his friendship. Their friendship had never been perfect; none ever was. But he knew then that she valued his friendship as much as he did hers. That made the decision for him.

"What if I have a plan? Can I come to San Francisco and do best friend stuff with you?"

"Yes. And I'd like that. But only if it's a real plan and it's something you truly want to do, Ron. I'm serious about this. I, I know what's best for you …"

Ron looked at his friend for what seemed an eternity. "Okay, KP. I'll be back with a plan. You'll see. A badical, bon-diggity one."

Guinan listened intently to Ron's story.

"Basically, I was good at two things: tagging along with Kim on rescue missions and cooking. Rescue missions weren't going to be an option, so I decided to do something with cooking. I applied to the San Francisco Culinary Institute that week. I was so excited when I got in. It was one of the smartest things I've ever done. I had a blast, even learned to believe in myself. The rest, as they say, is history.

"Kim's done a lot of badical stuff for me in my life, Guinan, but that, until this morning, was the best. If Kim hadn't laid down the law, I wouldn't be where I am today. I'd still be a slacker instead of one badical chef. And I'd be short the most bon-diggity best friend I could ever have." Left unsaid was the corollary that he'd now be without a girlfriend, too.

Guinan looked at Ron. He spoke with seriousness, yet warmth. She'd done a little research on her new friend. He wasn't just a sous chef at any old eatery, but was sous chef at Mistral, a four-star restaurant popular with some key members of the Federation Diplomatic Corps and other VIPs. He'd done very well for himself in a very short time. "So tell me, Ron," the woman asked playfully, "What did she do for you this morning? It must have been pretty special."

"That, Guinan, is none of your business!" he replied, grinning from ear to ear. "Now tell me what you have that's good to drink, that isn't alcoholic and isn't synthahol …"

II.

Kim's dinner was but a happy memory as she slogged through the raw data. She was beginning to fume, wondering whether she'd find anything of use, when she came across the report on the missing Duotronic Memory Capacitor. There it was: plasma residue and the same kind of rough cut at the crime scene at the research station on Paknar IV. And it was stolen just three weeks ago. She made a notation and kept on wading through the information. Then she hit the jackpot. Somebody had tried to fence the stolen capacitor on Ras T'Klar. Starfleet had learned of the sale when a factor seeking to curry favor tipped them off to the unit's presence on the black market.

But what really excited her was that the report included the name and species of the factor the fence had approached.

Kim had a solid lead.

III.

Will Riker and Deanna Troi were enjoying a drink in Ten Forward. They watched with amusement, and some degree of awe, as Guinan actually invited Ensign Possible's friend to join her behind the bar; that was sacred space. Ron certainly looked comfortable back there, taking orders, making drinks, and chatting up the crew.

"I feel bad for him," Will said.

"Why is that?" Deanna asked. "He seems to be having a splendid time."

"Maybe. But he came out here to see Ensign Possible, not become Guinan's assistant. I'm glad I put Possible on that Away Team – she's really risen to the occasion – but instead of entertaining her friend, she's busy working."

Deanna smiled. "I think he's doing a fine job of entertaining himself. And based on the peace and happiness I sense in him, he's comfortable with Kim doing her job. Remember, he's protective, but in all the right ways. He wants her to succeed. And something tells me she'll still find a way to entertain him." The innuendo in her last remark was unmistakable.

"Counselor, I am shocked!" Will said, a huge grin on his face.

"Shocked? I didn't know that it was possible to shock the president of Enterprise's Risa Frequent Visitor's Club!" she retorted before they both broke into laughter.

IV.

"Shego, we have a problem."

"Oh, and what might that be, Dr. D?" she asked, as she sat with her back to him, her feet propped on the computer work station, scanning three data displays while filing her nails, or, more accurately, her clawed gloves, so as to better maintain their sharpness for truly effective slashing.

The blue-skinned scientist scowled at the green-hued woman as she wielded her emery board. "Don't you think you should be working, Shego? I do pay you good latinum, you know."

Shego arched an eyebrow. "Doc, I'm running some entry simulations right now. One on Starbase 462, the second on the Ferengi Central Bank, and the third on Romulan Neutral Zone post six." The raven-haired woman was deciding what to do next: highjack a Starfleet transport, raid Ferenginar for gold-pressed latinum, or lay her hands on a cloaking device. "That ain't busy enough for you, you can talk to the hand." Her employer flinched as she thrust a plasma-enveloped glove at his face.

After Drakken regained his composure, he muttered something about "lippy sidekicks."

"Doc. Focus. Problem. What is it?" she asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh yes. It seems someone in Starfleet is getting nosy."

"Really?" Shego asked with mild interest. "I assume you got this information from Eddie?"

"Of course, Shego."

Shego grimaced. Drakken's cousin Edward Lipsky held a commission in the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. He was incredibly brilliant, highly annoying, and totally corrupt. Starfleet exploited his talents, tolerated his personality, and remained wholly ignorant of his moral vacuity. For the right price, Ed Lipsky happily kept his cousin Drew informed about a variety of matters of interest to the scientist. An Alpha Alpha Theta clearance level coupled with mad fu computer skills let Lipsky run undetected a search routine that alerted him whenever certain inquiries were made of Memory Prime and every other Starfleet database. Among the variables that Ed Lipsky had included in his search parameters were "plasma" and a number of variants of the word "crime."

'Detest' was too mild a world to describe Shego's attitude towards Ed. On the few occasions they'd met, he'd hit on her, totally oblivious to her unqualified rejection of his advances. But she recognized his value. Not many criminals had their very own mole right at the heart of Starfleet.

"So what's the damage?" she asked her boss, as she put her feet down and swiveled her chair so she could face him.

"Your visits to the array, Paknar IV, and Ras T'Klar may have been tied together. And apparently your little Ferengi friend decided to let Starfleet know that a piece of its property was on the market. You might want to deal with him."

Shego cursed, then got up. "I'm on it, Doc."

Drakken was right; they did have a problem.

V.

"Please, don't hurt me." Bunt quivered as Shego held a glowing hand centimeters away from his face; her other hand was grasping the front of his tunic. The Ferengi was terrified; he always had been scared of this woman, so much so that he never once told her how twisted it was that she wore clothes.

"Hurt you?" she snarled. "I oughta break every bone in your body. It's a good thing you're so old and ugly, or I'd introduce you to my Orionisi friends."

The Ferengi shuddered. Shego's friends were slavers; an introduction invariably led to a trip to a Syndicate slave market.

"What kind of Ferengi are you?" she snapped, contempt dripping from her voice. "I can't believe you talked to a Starfleet investigator! Did you tell them about me?"

"N-no," he stammered. "Just that a piece of their property was for sale; they paid me good money for the information."

"Okay, Ear Boy. Here's the deal," Shego snapped. "You so much as say hello to Starfleet, Galactic Justice or anybody else snooping around in the future and you're going to wish I had sold you." To drive home her point, Shego slammed the conniving Ferengi up against the bay of shelves with enough force that things fell to the floor. She let him slide to the floor.

"Please," he sniveled. "Tell me how I can make it up to you."

She smiled, looking like a cat that had her mouse cornered. "For starters, you even suspect someone's an investigator, I want to know …"

VI.

"Spankin'. Now all I have to do is find one Ferengi on a planet with a population of fifty million people made up of six dozen sentient species," Kim muttered to herself. She sat back in her chair and sighed. Then she recalled a conversation she'd had during her last days at the Academy. The old gardener, Boothby, knew she was going to be posted as a security officer on Enterprise. He had given her a name to call if she ever had to find something.

"He's the one to contact if you need to find a needle in a haystack. But make sure the first time you call him it's for something good, something that will challenge him. Otherwise, he won't take you seriously."

"Is he in Starfleet Security?"

The old man snorted. "Heck no. He's independent. Does things his own way. But he's completely trustworthy and ridiculously good."

That was endorsement enough for Kim.

She logged onto the comm net and initiated a contact.

A dark-skinned young man of about seventeen, sipping a drink through a straw, appeared on screen. Kim was surprised by his boyish countenance.

"Hi," he said, before taking another sip of his drink. He already knew that whoever was contacting him had to have been sent his way by Boothby.

"Excuse me, are you Wade Load?" Kim replied.

"In the flesh. And you would be?"

"Ensign Kim Possible, USS Enterprise."

"Possible. You wouldn't happen to be related to James Possible, the starship designer?"

"He's my father."

"Wow!" the young man exclaimed. "How can I help you?"

"A mutual friend suggested you might be able to find some information."

He leaned back in his chair and smiled. "I think I might be able to. For a price."

"A price?" Kim asked, realizing she didn't exactly have a budget for this kind of thing. "How much?"

"A set of starship schematics autographed by your dad!"

Kim laughed in relief. "Done."

"Okay, so what do you need to know?"

Kim explained.

Wade whistled. "That's a tall order, Kim. This may be difficult …" he said as he began working a series of computer consoles. "Okay! Here you go. I'm transmitting the data to you."

Kim's eyes opened wide. "Thanks, Wade."

"No problem. And you ever need help finding something your buddies at Starfleet can't find, feel free to give me a ring."

"I will. And Wade? You rock!"

VII.

He had unusually beady eyes. Kim didn't like the way he looked at her, even with two monitors and tens of billions of kilometers of space between her and her interlocutor.

"My name is Ensign Kim …"

"I do not care what your name is, hoo-mon. You are a female who wears clothes. That is depraved!"

Kim refrained from rolling her eyes. As a good Federation citizen, she knew she was supposed to respect cultural diversity. But when it came to Ferengi mores, she felt entitled to entertain a few biases. Unfortunately, she could not let them show.

"I did not mean to offend …"

"Enough. It is irrelevant. I do not do business over the comm nets and I do not do business with Starfleet."

Kim watched in shock as the screen went blank. She'd been cut off.

She stared at the screen, then growled. She looked at the chrono; it was 2310. She'd done enough for one day, especially now that she had to find a new line of attack. She knew the lead on Ras T'Klar would be worth pursuing. She pressed her comm badge, hoping Ron was still awake. "Possible to Stoppable."

"Stoppable here, KP. What up?"

"Well, the question is are you up?"

"Sure am, Kim. Me and Guinan are having a blast down here in Ten Forward!"

"Great," Kim said with an exaggerated sigh. "I've already lost you to another woman …"

"KP, you couldn't lose me even if you tossed me into a black hole."

"You're very sweet, Ron, you know that?"

"Hey, hey, gotta be for my bon-diggity new girlfriend …"

Kim giggled as she imagined Ron preening.

"… So, I know it's late, but would you still want some dessert?"

"Please and thank you."

"Badical. I'll head back to Chez Ron. Come by as soon as you want. I've got Linzer Torte for you."

"Oooh, chocolate! Spankin'!"

Kim loved chocolate.

VIII.

Ron was setting the dessert on the small coffee table by the couch. He'd dimmed the lights to a low setting and lit a number of candles. He was ready to wager large amounts of latinum that Kim would be shocked. While she may have decided that he was BF material, Ron suspected that she still instinctively saw him as goofy Ron, not romantic Ron. That was fine by him; he'd enjoy surprising her. Ron actually knew what he was doing. Working in the restaurant business, he'd learned all about the importance of creating just the right mood.

The door chimed and he walked over to greet his guest as he called out, "Come in!"

The door slid open and Kim walked in.

Kim looked around. "I'm impressed. Very impressed," she said as she walked over and kissed her boyfriend of sixteen hours. He'd done a nice job with breakfast the previous day, but this was completely different. That was elegant; this was romantic.

"I told you when I arrived, the Ronman's moves are known across the galaxy."

"Well, Ronman, news flash. Those moves are now mine and mine only. Got it?" she said as she brushed her lips against his. "Show 'em to anyone else and I'll be showing you 16 kinds of kung fu."

"Moves. You. Only. Yeah, I think I can remember that, KP!" Ron said brightly.

With his arm around her waist, Ron led Kim to dessert. Kim sat down and the long day suddenly caught up with her. She collapsed back into the couch, ignoring her cake. She just sat there, slumped. Ron saw how weary she was; he knew how hard she'd been working. He hooked his hand under her knee and swung her leg over his lap. Then he beckoned for the other one. Kim smiled at him as he pulled off her boots and began to massage her feet. He'd done this for her so many times before, but now there was an erotic dimension to it that she found quite agreeable. She sighed with pleasure.

"Beginning to relax?" Ron asked.

"Mmmm. That's great. No offense, but this is better than food. Ooooh, yesss."

Ron grinned, pleased to know he was delivering satisfaction. "So, how's the investigation going?"

Kim filled him in. "It's frustrating. I'm not sure what to do next."

"KP, the answer's right in front of you."

"What do you mean, Ron?"

"Mr. Ferengi said he didn't do business over the nets and he didn't do it with Starfleet."

"Meaning what?"

"Kim, Kim, Kim. Rule of Acquisition 114."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"You don't know the Ferengi Rules of Acquisition?"

Kim shook her head.

"Sha," he said dismissively. "And I thought they were teaching you important stuff at the Academy …"

"Ron …" Kim said, beginning to sound annoyed.

"… 114 says, 'If it's not taken off the table, it's still on the table.'"

"English, please and thank you."

"Your friend is a Ferengi. He lives to do business. He told you what he does not do. That means everything else he will do … like business in person with a non-Starfleet type. Someone like, oh, me!"

Kim's eyes grew wide. "You have got to be kidding. You, I mean, Ron …"

Ron began to bristle. "Yeah, me," he said, ice in his voice. "Maybe I'm not smart enough to wear one of those uniforms, but I know my way around, Kim."

Kim sighed. "Ron, it's not a matter of you being smart enough to wear the uniform. It's just that, well, you're …"

"What, just a chef, right? Guess what, KP. I bet I've personally dealt with more Ferengi than you or most anyone on this ship has …" he said heatedly.

Kim realized just how much she'd offended Ron and felt bad. "Okay, amp down, Ron. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dis you." She leaned in and gave him a kiss.

"Don't think you can buy me off with cheap sex, lady."

"Oh? I can try," she purred seductively, before kissing him again.

"Okay, well, maybe you can," he said with a lusty grin. "Look, KP, just remember, I was your rescue team sidekick. There's more to me than my awesome good looks," he said, flexing his muscles, much to Kim's amusement. "Now, I may not have all sorts of bon-diggity Starfleet training," he continued, a bit more seriously, "but there are things I can do. And hold my own with a Ferengi in a negotiation is one of them." He could see he had piqued her interest. "When you've got an Andorian deputy chief of mission who is one of your best customers but who insists on drinking Romulan ale and your main competitor is rumored to be serving it, you learn how to get your hands on the stuff. Same with a Vulcan High Commissioner who has a thing for Cardassian mountain leeks."

"Ron, are you telling me you do business on the black market?"

"No, I do business with Ferengi who probably do business on the black market. KP, I'm just a lowly chef in the diplomatic capital of the galaxy who has to keep his demanding customers happy. My boss decided that if I was going to play in the restaurant big leagues, I need to know more than just how to cook. You'd be amazed at how being a dumb blond can work to my advantage."

Kim looked at Ron thoughtfully. Maybe he's on to something. Ron's been in scrapes before. And it's not like this should be dangerous; I can keep an eye on him …

"Are you serious, Ron? Are you really offering to help?"

"If you'd like my help, yeah. You should know by now I'd do anything for you, KP."

Kim smiled affectionately at him, knowing Ron meant what he had just said; he really would do anything for her. And it was the emotion behind that desire that so powerfully drew her to him. She knew he loved her. And she was accepting that she loved him, and actually had for quite some time; she'd just not been ready to see it. "Well, let's talk to Mr. Worf in the morning and see what he thinks." Then her warm smile turned into something wickedly playful. "But until then, I'd like your help with something else."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm hmmm," she replied coyly as she began to unzip the front of her duty uniform. Kim was blushing, but she was also looking directly into Ron's eyes with a disarming confidence. "I need your help in removing some of this non-regulation gear I'm wearing …"

Ron's eyes grew large and his face flushed as his best-friend-now-girlfriend undressed in front of him. That underwear is definitely not Starfleet issue, he thought, as a look of wonder spread across his face.

IX.

Shego, hidden away in a small apartment on a side street in a quiet neighborhood in Coscobbia, the main city of Ras T'klar, sat back in her chair, looking at the padd. Bunt had done as he was instructed. He'd contacted Shego as soon as he'd been contacted by Starfleet.

The raven-haired villain was looking at the personnel file for Ensign Kimberly Ann Possible. Human from Mars, aged 22, single. Starfleet Security. Martial arts training. It would be fun to take Possible down, Shego thought; hopefully, the opportunity would present itself. Princess, I bet you'd be surprised to learn that all the training in the world means nothing in the face of an Orionisi pain inducer.

Shego grinned as she looked at the picture of the young officer. The Syndicate would pay her at least two bars of gold-pressed latinum for Kim Possible since they could turn around and sell her for at least twice that amount in the slave market.

TBC …