Thanks to captainkodak1, MichaelCross, Commander Argus, Parareru, Ultimate Naco Topping, JMAN2.0, daywalkr82, CajunBear73, Zaratan, GargoyleSama, Yankee Bard, Emerald Dark Night, calamite, JPMod, KPFan4Life, Taechunsa, General Patton, Vince Stevens, mattb3671, surforst, Nikoagonistes, Markv1.0, momike, Louis Mielke, chefjet, Matri, jasminevr, WhiteLadyoftheRing, strength-91-possibility-none, Ezbok58a, kemiztri, nmorgendorffer, NothingImportantinthisworld, Darkcloud1, Skyagent, whitem, TAZER ZERO, teddybear-514, Daeron Blackoak, conan98002, Theta-Alpha-One, The Halfa Wannabe, SariahSariah, Jak4, WesUAH, Visigoth29527, Wanderer3, TexasDad, zipporahvulcan, Dixon-San, Ace Ian Combat, Supreme Admiral of the Web, IncrediRaider8, and Slyfer for reviewing. And thanks to everyone else for reading.
Write a review, get a response.
Thanks to campy for beta- and proofreading. An adorable little tribble is heading his way …
Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed my one-shot Cupid Wears Black and Green. Thanks, too, to those who just read. If you haven't checked it out, give it a try – I think you'll enjoy the story.
I'd also like to recommend Zaratan's charming and clever Impossible Love. No spaceships, but it has knights and castles and Kim Possible!
KP belongs to Disney, TNG belongs to Paramount.
I.
Ron had been standing in the small galley of his quarters on Enterprise, about to retrieve the ingredients for the paella he was going to make for Kim. Now he was standing in the dining room of Mistral. He hadn't the remotest inkling of how he got there.
"Ah, Ron. So nice to see you!" Q said, looking up at the thoroughly confused chef.
Ron blinked twice, then looked down at the table. "Mr. Quince?" he asked, wondering if he was having hallucinations. He had had a few very stressful days and been pumped up with some potent medications.
"In the flesh! But my friends call me Q."
"How'd I get here?" a bewildered Ron asked as he looked around the restaurant with its shocked patrons and staff.
"I brought you here," Q answered. "It's Friday. I'm here for my dinner."
"Did you just say you brought me here? It took me a week on a light-speed transport to get to where I was …"
Q grinned. "It helps to be omnipotent."
"Omnipotent?"
"Yes, you know, all powerful, able to do anything, god-like."
Normally, Ron would take any kind of treatment short of outright abuse from a patron, and even then he would keep his cool as he remonstrated with the offending party. But that evening he snapped, not happy to be condescended to by some all-powerful alien who had interrupted his date preparations. "Dude, if you can do all that, what do you need me here for? Why don't you make your own dinner?"
"Because it's just not the same! The ambience, the banter, that special je ne sais quoi you bring to the presentation."
"Look, I hate to break the news to you, but I'm on vacation and I have dinner plans and neither involves you."
Q frowned at Ron. "You're as difficult as Jean-Luc! And you've only been on that garbage scow of his for a week. Besides, I'm much more fun than Little Miss Starfleet. I won't let you get savaged by wild animals."
Ron's eye narrowed to a slit. "Watch it, dude. Kim's dad designed that ship. And any more cracks about her and you'll be sorry."
"You can't be serious," Q scoffed.
"Note serious face," Ron replied.
"Oh, all right. No more comments about the Good Ship Lollipop or your girlfriend. But speaking of her, if you really must see her, you'd better get into that kitchen and start making my risotto. I do love the Maine lobster you mix in. And I believe I've detected hints of a Martian butter, no?"
Ron recognized that the only way he was going to get back to Kim quickly was through Q's agency. As much as it galled him, Ron knew he was at the alien's beck and call. Still, he had some leverage. Q appeared to be hungry. And he couldn't eat until Ron prepared his meal.
"I'll make your dinner but on one condition."
"What's that?" Q asked, expecting Ron would demand that his ravaged face be healed. The omnipotent being didn't feel he owed Ron that. As far as Q was concerned, Ron was lucky to be alive. If hadn't been for Q's decision to alter the future and cause Kor to survive the climactic battle in the Dominion War, the old monk would never have been alive to find the Sword of Kahless and Ron and Kim would already be dead. Of course, Q wouldn't have his risotto and that was unacceptable. So, maybe we are even. Best not to say anything, though, Q thought. These humans can be so ungrateful.
"Tell Kim where I am. I don't want her worrying when she discovers I'm not on board. And tell her we're still on for dinner."
"Aww, you are such a romantic …" Q taunted before he trailed off as he began to find Ron's expression rather disconcerting; Q wondered if Ron had been taking pointers from Picard. "Okay, okay. Ta ta!" he said before he disappeared in a flash of light.
Henri, the owner and head chef of Mistral, approached Ron from behind. "You want to tell me what's going on?" the older man asked before Ron turned to look at him. Henri drew in a sharp breath as he saw Ron's face. "What the h …"
Ron sighed. "It's a very long story …"
II.
Kim had just emerged from the shower, wrapped a towel around herself, and stepped out of the bathroom and into her sleeping quarters when Q arrived.
"Don't mind me," he said nonchalantly.
Kim stared at her visitor; every Starfleet security officer had been briefed on the two Alpha Alpha Alpha threat levels: the Borg and Q. The latter was now reclining on Yori's bunk. Kim moved to her bureau and her comm badge.
"Nuh uh. You won't need that just now," Q said as he made the device disappear.
"What do you want?" she finally asked apprehensively, feeling exposed wearing nothing but a towel.
Q laughed. "Oh my. You're worried that I want carnal relations! How revolting! Still, if it will make you feel better …" He snapped his fingers and Kim's towel was replaced by her duty uniform. "So drab," he said, eyeing her. "You really ought to try one of these," he said, waving at his red command uniform with its captain's pips. Before Kim could reply, she found herself wearing similar garb. "Much better," he said with approval. "Captain Kimberly Ann Possible. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
"What do you want?" Kim repeated, annoyance supplanting unease.
"I'm just here to deliver a message. Your Ronnie-poo insisted I tell you that he's going to be a little late for your dinner date."
Kim's eyes grew wide. "Ron? What have you done with him?"
"Just sent him back to San Francisco. I was in the mood for some risotto and, well, you get a craving for something and you just can't stop it, so …"
"If you hurt him …"
"Calm down, Little Miss Bubblebutt," Q said, eliciting an embarrassed look from Kim. "He's fine."
Kim let out a sigh of relief.
"Not like it should be any business of yours after taking him on that mission," Q sneered. "Those are some nasty scars he's got. And too bad about that eye. He's actually rather ugly now, isn't he? Rather ironic. You take 18 years to kiss him but only need 48 hours to disfigure him for life. That's no way to take care of your sidekick."
"He is not a sidekick. He's my partner. He's my best friend and my boyfriend," Kim snarled. She looked at Q through narrowed eyes, not liking the way Q was talking about Ron, nor how he was stirring up all of her feelings of responsibility.
"Whatever. You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to … So, when are you going to tell him," Q demanded.
"Tell him what?" Kim asked angrily.
"That you want to call the whole thing off, that you're going back to that 'hottie,' Tom."
Kim's jaw dropped.
"Oh, don't look so shocked. I know your track record, Possible. Walter Nelson. Bobby Johnson. Josh Mankey. Blah blah blah right up through Tom Carter. But never so much as a glance at dopey, dim-witted Ron Stoppable. I'm surprised you even let him kiss you before the incident. Even without the injuries he really is quite goofy looking and not particularly bright. Definitely not up to your usual standards. Was it pity that finally made you stoop to being intimate with him?"
"How dare you! Not that it's any of your business, but I love Ron!"
"Love? Puh-leeze. Admit it. You just feel guilty."
Kim cringed.
"Aha! Gotcha! You only bedded him because you felt bad that he traveled all the way out here to see you and you were all gaga over Tom. Now, you're going to stay with him out of guilt over what happened to him. Guilt borne out of your sense of responsibility for ruining his life."
"That is so not true! None of it! Yes, I feel terrible about what happened to Ron, and I will 'til the day I die. But I'll be with him because I love him."
Q snorted. "What do you know about love? Raging hormones, maybe, but love, true love, you shallow little girl? Do you really think you know what it is, Possible? Do you think you can handle it? It can be scarier than the Borg, you know!"
"Like I don't know that? As if! Do you know what it's like to risk the closest friend you've ever had to try something new? But it's worth all the fears, all the anxieties, all the confusion to be with him. It's wonderful. The most important thing in my life is that Ron and I love each other," Kim said defiantly.
Q rolled his eyes. "A lovely speech, Ensign. Heartfelt, preachy, and confident. You must be taking lessons from Jean-Luc. Be warned, though, he's a bad influence. Before you know it, you'll be long-winded, too!"
"I don't know what your sitch is, Q, and I don't care; this conversation has gone on long enough. I just want Ron back. Now!" Kim demanded.
"Temper, temper, Ensign. He'll be back when I've had my dinner and not a second before," Q said, as he swung his legs over the side of the bunk and stood. He approached Kim and looked her directly in the eye. "The most important thing in my life is that Ron and I love each other," he repeated to her in her own voice. "Lucky you. You may just get the chance to test that proposition. Then we'll see if you really know what true love is all about." Q then disappeared.
Kim was chilled by her visitor's last remarks. Shaken, she walked over to the comm panel to alert the captain about Q's visit when the omnipotent being returned.
"He really does think you're hot, you know."
"The feeling's mutual," she replied with conviction.
"Then maybe you should show him!" Q waved his hand and Kim's captain's uniform was replaced by a very revealing, low-cut, high-hemmed little black dress made of Antarean shimmer cloth; what material there was clung to her in such a way as to accentuate all of her curves and excite the imagination. "Yes, I think he'll like that very much! Oh, and I think you'll want this back …"
The comm badge appeared on Kim's dress and Q once again vanished. She slapped the device.
"Possible to Picard."
"Picard here."
"Sir, I've just had a visit from Q."
"Q? Report to my ready room immediately, Ensign."
"Yes, sir. Possible out."
She turned to her bureau to retrieve a uniform when Q's head reappeared.
"Tut, tut. Disobeying orders, Ensign? Jean-Luc said 'immediately.' Off you go!"
III.
Picard was sorting through a pile of data padds when the familiar Q flash illuminated his ready room and left a flustered Kim Possible standing before him.
"Ensign," the captain said, trying not to stare at Kim's revealing dress – or her very attractive legs.
"Sir," she answered sheepishly, blushing beet red.
Picard was glad he was wearing his turtleneck and duty jacket; he took off the latter and offered it to Kim, who gratefully accepted the garment.
"Please, sit, Ensign," Picard said, motioning towards the couch. "Tea?"
"Please and thank you," she said as she sat down as demurely as she could.
"Congratulations, Ensign," Picard said as he handed her the hot beverage. "You are now part of a very select group of people who have had the misfortune of catching Q's attention." Kim knew from briefings about Picard's and Riker's interactions with the omnipotent being.
"Actually, sir, I think it was Ron who caught his attention."
"Ron?" the captain asked, quite surprised. Even though Jean-Luc Picard now saw Ron Stoppable in a very different light from just a few days earlier, he could not imagine what interest Q would take in the young man.
"Yes, sir. Apparently, Q likes his cooking."
"His cooking?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes. Q sent Ron back to San Francisco to make him dinner. Ron told him he had to come here and tell me what was going on."
"Which he did …" Picard said with a hint of wonder in his voice. "Did Q say anything else?"
Kim looked away from her commanding officer. "He decided to lecture me about my love life." Knowing the captain would want every piece of information he could get on Q and how he perceived human affairs, she proceeded to tell Picard about the rest of her conversation with the omnipotent being.
Picard sighed. "Q has a gift for getting under people's skin, Ensign. I think that's his way of saying he likes you. And Ron."
"Likes us?"
"Yes, but that doesn't mean you should trust him or discount his capacity for malevolent behavior. I believe I am Q's best friend," Picard actually shuddered as he said that, before continuing, "and he showed his friendship by introducing us to the Borg. I think we will need to be on our guard. Q doesn't give warnings unless he plans to make – or just allow – something to happen."
"Yes, sir."
Picard decided it would be a good idea to redirect the conversation. "So, Ensign, I take it Ron is a good cook?"
"Oh yes!" Kim answered with enthusiasm. "He's the sous chef at Mistral in San Francisco. Have you heard of it?"
"I have indeed, Ensign. My brother Robert dined there last fall. He was very impressed. If Ron is working there, he must be very talented."
"He's ferociously good, Captain. He makes the most incredible …"
Picard listened to Kim as she talked with unvarnished pride about Ron's culinary efforts, not knowing that a few years earlier Kim would have bristled at the idea of Ron being superior to her in any activity. The captain was pleased to offer her an attentive ear. He mused on how, despite all that had happened to the young officer and her boyfriend in recent days, she was still quite composed. This wasn't the increasingly diffident officer he'd seen in recent months; this was the young woman that Boothby had told him to take note of. She has the steel for command, he thought. I believe it's time to promote her.
IV.
"Excellent, as always, mon chef," Q said, as he patted his lips with his napkin. "You should be quite pleased with yourself, Ron. You know, this is the only food in the entire universe that I'll eat."
"Reminds me of that squirrel that would only eat in Mom's vegetable garden and never from any of the neighbors'," Ron responded caustically.
"Did you just compare me to a suburban yard rodent?" Q asked indignantly. "I am a paying customer, you know."
Ron rolled his eyes. "You want anything else, or can I go back to Kim now?"
"Go back? But the night is young!"
"Yeah, and I'd like to enjoy it before it gets any older," Ron said sourly.
Q frowned. "Oh, fine. Be that way." He waved his hand, sending Ron to Jean-Luc Picard's ready room.
"Ron!" Kim exclaimed. She jumped up from the couch and rushed to her boyfriend, who threw his arms around her.
"KP," he murmured, holding her tight.
"Ah, mon capitan!" Q said cheerfully from Picard's chair, in which he was now seated with his feet propped up on the captain's desk. "You seem to be running a veritable love boat here. Young Stoppable couldn't wait to get back to see Miss Possible."
"Q …" the captain seethed.
"You'd better keep an eye on those two, Jean-Luc, or you may be adding a little crew member before long!"
The three humans stared at him.
"I do hope you'll name him after his Uncle Q!"
Kim, having collected herself, pulled a face. "As if."
"As if if!" Ron added.
Q rolled his eyes. "Well, I think I've spent enough time here at the Algonquin Round Table. See you around!" he said before disappearing.
Picard, Kim, and Ron all breathed deep sighs of relief. Of course, just as everyone relaxed, Q decided to reappear. Or at least his head did.
"Ron, I do owe you a tip for that lovely meal. I could fix that face of yours, but I actually think it'll serve you well the way it is. So here's some advice: Think Klingon!" he said in a chipper tone. Then, more ominously, he said to Kim, "And don't forget what I said, Ensign." With those parting words, the mercurial being left them.
Kim explained to Ron what Q had told her; he pulled her close to him. None of them had any idea of what to make of Q's advice to Ron.
"Sir, may we be dismissed?" Kim asked.
Picard looked at the two young people for a moment, then smiled. "Yes, of course … Lieutenant."
"Sir?" Kim asked.
"I know you were expecting word on your promotion from Commander Riker. But it is the captain's prerogative, you know, and I think over these last few days you've demonstrated that you are ready for higher rank. I do hope you won't mind staying in security for now, given the investigation."
"No, sir," Kim said, stunned. "This is so …"
"Badical!" Ron chimed in, grinning from ear to ear and pumping a fist.
"Well, carry on. I'm sure you two would like to … celebrate," Picard said with a dead-pan expression.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!" Kim said, barely able to contain her excitement.
V.
Kim and Ron left the bridge and entered the turbolift. Though Kim was still wearing the captain's duty jacket, Ron couldn't help but notice her little black dress.
"KP, you are smokin'" he said approvingly.
"Thanks, Ron," she said with a giggle and a blush. "Though you should thank Q. He thought you'd like this."
"He thought right," Ron noted with a leer.
"STOP!" Kim ordered the turbolift. She wrapped her arms around Ron's neck, then brought her lips to his. "Mmmm. At least he got something right tonight …"
Ron, who had been wondering if Kim was disappointed that Q had not healed his injuries, quickly set such thoughts aside.
VI.
Ron woke up, pleased to find Kim's arm lying across his chest and her leg thrown over his. He lay there, looking at his childhood friend, now lover, as she slept. Despite everything that had happened over the past few days, at that moment, he couldn't help but think that life was good. At peace with the world, he fell back to sleep.
When he woke up later, Kim was awake, looking at him, a wicked grin on her face.
"What?" he asked.
"You should hear yourself talk in your sleep."
"Uh …"
"You really did like that cheer outfit, didn't you?"
"Heh heh," Ron chuckled, nervously. He was embarrassed.
"Be a good boy and maybe I'll replicate one for you!"
"Oh, I'm all about replication!"
"Oh? I thought you'd be all about the process of replication …" Kim purred as she swung herself on top of him.
VII.
Later, Kim and Ron sat at the table, a breakfast of bacon and eggs before them.
"So, what will you do today, Ron?"
"Worf and I are going to spend some more time doing bat'leth exercises. He is so amped up about the Sword," he added with a grin, recalling the Klingon's awed reaction when Ron told him about meeting Kor and using the bat'leth on the planet. "Then I'm going to have lunch with Commander LaForge and Data. Data's going to show me stellar cartography. And I think some babe in Security is supposed to give me some martial arts training."
"Oooh. You'll like stellar cartography; it's spankin'," Kim said enthusiastically. "Any plans for tonight? Think you'd want to see that martial arts instructor?"
"Nah. I was hoping to find me a hot, newly promoted officer. Preferably one with red hair and green eyes. Got any suggestions?"
"I'll get back to you," she said with a sly grin.
"So, what's up for you today … Lieutenant Possible?" Ron asked.
Kim smiled with pride; she liked the way her new rank sounded. "Well, I have to meet Commander Riker at 0800 hours. Then I'll see you at 0830, because I want you to be there when I pin that pip on," she said with pride, before continuing. "Then I'm meeting with Mr. Data before briefing the Senior Staff on our investigation …"
Ron shot a curious glance at Kim. "Our?"
Kim smiled. "Yes, our. And don't you forget it. Team Possible, remember?"
"Coolio," Ron replied, grinning. "Maybe we can have our own special uniforms, huh? Make a statement!"
Kim chuckled and rolled her eyes. "You are such a goofball. Which is funny, because later in the day I get to do some martial arts training with some goofball, though I've heard he is kind of cute. Then, since you're going to be cruising for women, I thought I'd try to pick up some guy for dinner. Maybe one who can cook for me. And who likes cheer outfits."
Kim and Ron sat quietly, enjoying the banter, enjoying the companionship. After a while, though, Kim's faced grew dark. With annoyance, she said, "I am so not looking forward to working with that guy from GJ."
"KP, you'll do fine," Ron said, reaching across the table to take her hand. "So, does GJ Dork have a name?"
"Will Du," Kim answered with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
VIII.
Shego had left Drakken's World and piloted her ship to New Marrakesh. Once Drakken had explained what it was he needed, Shego understood why he wanted her to 'acquire' the item for him. Drakken didn't have the facilities, let alone the knowledge, to invent the device he required.
She was willing to concede a level of whack brilliance to her employer. But his creativity was leavened with a fatal streak of ineptitude. She suspected that was one of the reasons he was still at large. Even the Federation had limited resources and it couldn't afford to track down every nut job in the galaxy. Now that Lipsky's latest scheme actually was showing promise, Starfleet was nosing around. And while Kim Possible may have just been an annoying pixie who happened to have some good moves, she was backed up by the most potent military force in the Alpha Quadrant.
Shego had never bought the line that Starfleet wasn't a military organization. Its crews wore uniforms and carried ranks. More to the point, they operated ships loaded with weaponry. A Galaxy-class starship packed enough firepower to devastate a planet. Shego may have been evil, but she was glad that the Klingons and the Romulans weren't in possession of Federation weapons technology.
Her modus operandi was to treat Starfleet as a hostile military force; she planned her travels accordingly, avoiding major star-traffic routes, Federation patrols, and populated sectors when possible. But she didn't hesitate from appearing in some of the more seedy corners of the Alpha Quadrant. You never knew what you might find beneath a rock, after all.
New Marrakesh was one of those corners, a place that, like Ras T'klar, operated by its own set of rules. Shego headed there looking for information that would lead her to the critical component Drakken needed to make his invention operational. She was confident that the man she was seeking out would be able to provide her with the answers she needed.
Shego had landed her ship at a spaceport at the edge of the city and made her way into a neighborhood of narrow alleys and brooding buildings. She located the place she wanted and was greeted at the front door.
A tall, strong man wearing a red, fez-like hat appraised her; Shego confidently met his gaze.
"Tell Big Daddy Brotherson that Shego is here to see him," she said with authority. "And these are for him," she added as she handed the man a box of Denobulan chocolates.
IX.
"Put it over there. No, there. Good."
Ron waited for Worf to set the bal'leth down in the far corner of the cargo bay, then closed his eyes and cleared his head. He took a deep breath. Then he stretched out his arm and willed the Sword of Kahless to come to him. The weapon rose from the ground and flew to Ron's waiting hands.
"Badical!" he exclaimed. "I am da man!" Ron was feeling pumped. He was still riding a high after Kim insisted that he pin the new pip on her collar.
Worf shook his head and growled. There was no doubt in his mind that Ron Stoppable was one of the bravest humans he had ever met. The good opinion he had of him after their night of drinking had blossomed into frank admiration after Kim and Ron's mission to Ras T'klar. Ron could tell the Klingon was being serious when he told him that he envied his wounds; Worf said they were the mark of a true warrior. Yet despite the high regard in which Worf now held Ron, the Klingon could still not quite accept the Terran's flippant attitude towards things. Worf did not imagine Kahless the Unforgettable saying "Badical" or "I am da man!" and he definitely did not envision the most revered figure in Klingon history … prancing.
Ron and Worf repeated the exercise a number of times; each time, Ron enjoyed the same results.
After practicing retrieval, Worf and Ron moved on to fighting techniques. Worf wondered whether the Sword would transfer any of Kahless' legendary fighting skills to Ron. As fate would have it, Worf had actually known little more than the old monk about the bat'leth; the weapon's true history was shrouded in myth and mystery. Worf did know, however, that any warrior who could make a viable claim to being the Chosen One could have a tremendous impact on Klingon politics. This was a matter he wanted to discuss with Captain Picard – but not before he had more information about Ron's connection with the weapon.
Ron proved to be awkward, uncoordinated – but occasionally brilliant, executing moves Worf had never seen before. Worf was nonplussed; Ron's abilities almost seemed to be random.
"I don't know," he had explained to the Klingon. "It just seems to come and go. When Kim was in danger, I was like a fighting machine. Now, it's all flukey."
"Hmmm." Worf was thinking.
"Don't even go there, dude! We are not endangering KP! No way, nuh uh, ain't gonna happen!"
Worf glowered at Ron. "I was not thinking of doing that."
"Oh. Heh heh. My bad, sorry," Ron said sheepishly.
"Apology accepted. Later, you can buy me a prune juice."
Prune juice? Ron thought.
"I was considering whether meditation might help you develop more consistent control of the Sword and your fighting abilities."
"Weeellll," Ron replied skeptically. Sitting quietly and still was not something he did very well. On the other hand, meditating couldn't be much different from marinating and, despite Ron's improved attitude towards work, he still enjoyed chilling. "Okay. I'm in."
"Good. We will begin tomorrow. Until then, though, let us continue your basic instruction."
Ron was glad he was still holding the bat'leth, since Worf, without warning, swung his weapon at Ron. Without thinking, Ron raised the Sword of Kahless and gracefully parried Worf's blow. The Klingon grinned manically at him before attacking again, only to have this thrust beaten back by Ron. They did this for a while and Ron's moves became steadily less elegant. Worf finally stopped.
"The more you are able to anticipate my attack, the less the blade seems to need to control your movements. This is very interesting."
"Yeah, maybe it is to you, Worf," Ron said rubbing his sore arms. "I'd just as soon have the Mystical Klingon Power do the whole thing. Ya know, make me a full-fledged master of Klingon Kung Fu."
"One only gets to Sto-Vo-Kor by fighting a great battle, Ron."
"Sto-Vo-what?"
"Sto-Vo-Kor. The place in the Klingon afterlife for the honored dead; it is where every Warrior yearns to go."
"Not me. At least not today. And definitely not if KP can't come, too," he said adamantly.
Worf slapped Ron on the back. "Ah, a man who wishes to fall in battle with his mate at his side. You are a true Klingon romantic, Ron Stoppable!"
Ron looked at Worf. Wanting to die in battle with Kim at his side was not on Ron's to-do list. Then again, there was no reason to burst his new friend's bubble.
X.
Kim was sitting at the table in the Observation Lounge with Picard, Data, Riker, LaForge, Crusher and Troi. Worf would normally have attended the meeting of the Senior Staff, but he approved of Kim's promotion and wanted her to have a chance to shine in front of the command officers, something she could better do if he wasn't present for them to turn to, even if only out of habit.
"Admiral Nechayev will arrive tomorrow at 1800 hours. She will be brining bringing Mr. Du from Galactic Justice. In a few minutes, Lieutenant Possible will give us an update on her investigation.
"Number One," the captain continued, "please make arrangements for a cocktail reception for the admiral with the senior officers at 1840 hours. Also, I would like a full dinner for the admiral and myself in my quarters at 2015 hours. And please make sure Mr. Pang is fully briefed on the admiral's culinary preferences. I do not want a repeat of last time."
"Yes, sir," Riker answered, recalling the … unusual … creations of Mr. Pang's predecessor as ship's cook and the chilly reception they had received from the admiral. Picard had been convinced that was the reason Nechayev had sent the Federation flagship on a tedious gofer mission involving some very annoying and demanding Pakled traders.
"Lieutenant, I would like you to be at the reception, too. It will reinforce in the admiral's mind the confidence I have in your ability to run this investigation without GJ interference. While I may have lost that battle, I still want to make the point."
"Thank you, sir," Kim replied, summoning all of her willpower to tamp down her excitement at being invited to such an important event.
"Sir, has the admiral informed you as to why she is visiting Enterprise?" Troi asked.
"No, Counselor, she has not, which leads me to believe that she is coming to discuss something of importance. She would not have given us a week's advance notice just to stage a surprise inspection. I am quite curious and a bit concerned, though, as to why she did not feel she could communicate over a secure sub-space channel."
"Sir, there's no such thing as a truly secure channel," Kim observed assuredly.
A small smile played at the corners of Picard's lips. "That is quite true, Lieutenant. It would appear that you and the admiral are in agreement on that point. I would advise you, however, should Admiral Nechayev voice an assumption that is not necessarily justified you exercise a bit more … discretion … before correcting her."
Kim reddened. "Yes, sir."
Riker looked at the chastened junior officer. "It's okay, Kim. Around this table, you're among friends and should feel free to speak freely. Am I right, sir?"
"Indeed, you are, Number One. Lieutenant, I expect all of my officers to provide their honest, considered opinions at all times, but especially when we are in Senior Staff conference. Admiral Nechayev, however …"
"Has a different modus operandi," Deanna suggested.
"Exactly," Picard agreed, his wry grin now replaced with a weary smile. "Now, Lieutenant, would you please apprise us of the progress of your investigation?"
Kim looked around the table at the senior officers and collected her thoughts, before she rose from her chair and headed to the view screen behind the captain's chair.
"As you know, Commander Data and I, with Ron's assistance, Mr. O'Brien's input, and information provided by Guinan, have learned a lot over the last few days," Kim began confidently. "Ron was able to learn from a Ferengi trader that an individual named Shego …
While Kim spoke, Shego's image appeared on the screen. Deanna noticed the animus radiating from Kim towards the picture as she spoke.
"… was responsible for the thefts of the three items we initially identified. Mr. Data has determined that she is behind additional thefts, too.
"We have determined that the most likely intent is to use the stolen devices to construct an artificial wormhole."
Geordi LaForge spoke up. "Do they have a power source? Without that, it would be like having a starship without a warp core."
"Mr. Data has a theory about that, sir."
The officers turned to the android. "The amount of energy necessary to open and sustain an artificial wormhole would be prodigious and require a generator of immense proportions. The scale and effort required to construct such a power plant would be beyond anything the Federation, or any other Alpha Quadrant civilization, has ever attempted."
"But you think someone may attempt to do so now," suggested Dr. Crusher.
"Unfortunately, yes. There is one solution that, though hypothetical, would provide the requisite amounts of energy. It would also prove to be an incredibly potent weapon on its own."
The image of a cylinder girdled by two LED bands appeared on the screen.
"And what is that?" Picard asked.
"That, sir, is a Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer," Data answered.
"A what?" asked Riker.
"A Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer," the android repeated.
"Sir," Kim interjected, responding with a composure that she herself found surprising, "the PDVI was invented in the early 21st century. It had the ability to warp the very fabric of space and time; in doing that it could release an incredible amount of energy."
"How much, Lieutenant?" the captain asked, knowing he would not like the answer.
"Enough to destroy an area the size of the state of Nevada," Kim answered.
"Why have we never heard of this before? Surely someone would have tried to fabricate one of these devices in the past three and a half centuries?" Picard asked.
"The technology underlying the PDVI involved a series of complex mathematical equations known as the Sachs Theorems. The solution to those problems was lost during World War Three when Professor Sachs died. Nobody has been able to solve the equations in the years since," Data explained.
"Meaning that nobody can create a new Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer," Kim added.
"This sounds like it would have been a truly dreadful weapon if it had been used on Earth, but is it powerful enough to open and sustain a wormhole?" Deanna asked.
"Not in its 21st century form, no," Kim answered. "But 370 years ago nobody knew how to control matter/anti-matter reactions. Today, theoretically, an operational Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer, powered by modern technology, could be used to open a wormhole. Or destroy an entire planet."
"Lieutenant, you said the PDVI was invented in the 21st century," Picard noted. "What happened to the device?"
"It was believed destroyed during the War. However, there were signs that it may have survived …"
"Lieutenant, are you saying it may still exist?"
"Sir," Kim said looking directly into her captain's eyes with a steadiness he found impressive, which affirmed his decision to promote her, "We have to assume it still exists. If someone is attempting to assemble the components of an artificial wormhole generator, they must know about the power requirements. And we have to assume that they know the PVDI is the only practical way to meet their needs. Unfortunately, we don't know where it is. At the moment, we can only hope they don't either, and that we find it before they do."
"I would strongly encourage you to do just that, Ms. Possible," Picard said, thinking Before a planet, possibly inhabited by billions of people, is destroyed.
Kim looked at her captain, holding his gaze. There really was nothing else to be said.
XI.
Shego gamely indulged Big Daddy Brotherson. She had played rock, scissors, paper; swapped riddles; been stumped by a Chinese finger puzzle; and experienced the challenges of the Bolian quizzler. She had done all of these things with grace and focus, not wanting to find herself playing a game of 'Thud.'"
Brotherson, satisfied, indicated that he was prepared to proceed to business.
"I need information," Shego said.
"Information is the most valuable commodity in the universe, Ms. Shego. More valuable than gold-pressed latinum, more precious than dilithium crystals."
Shego patiently and politely listened to the beefy, balding man wax eloquent. He may have been eccentric, but he was also possibly the best-informed humanoid in the Alpha Quadrant.
"What kind of information would you be seeking?" he asked.
"I'm looking for something. I need to know its location," she answered.
"I see. And what would that something be?" he asked, one eyebrow arched. Curiosity drove Brotherson. He collected information because he had an insatiable desire to know; that it enabled him to become incredibly wealthy and influential was a side benefit.
"A Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer."
Big Daddy Brotherson, looking thoughtful, steepled his fingers. A small smile danced at the corners of his mouth.
"Ah, Ms. Shego. You are still as good as your reputation. You are bold, audacious, ambitious, a woman without fear."
Shego wasn't sure where this was going.
"I must confess that I remain surprised that you are still in the employ of Drew Theodore P. Lipsky. Your talents, not to mention your charms, are wasted on him."
"Uh, thanks," Shego said uneasily. She so didn't want to even entertain the possibility that Brotherson was beginning to hit on her.
"However," Big Daddy continued. "How you choose to occupy yourself is your affair.
"The Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer: a small device capable of manipulating the very fabric of space and time. It is most fortunate for you and me that it was lost during the early days of the Third World War; otherwise, humanity might have been exterminated and you and I would not be sitting here, able to enjoy playing games and engaging in conversation.
"Tell me, Ms. Shego. How much would you pay to know the location of the vortex inducer?"
"Up front? Fifty bars of gold-pressed latinum … later, a whole lot more."
"Ms. Shego, I think you underestimate the value of that which you seek. Besides, I do not need filthy lucre."
"I see," Shego said evenly. Shego liked filthy lucre.
"Do not take offense; it is just that I already have more money than I will ever need." He paused, clearly giving consideration to something. "Perhaps you would be willing to pay me with information. I have heard a most fascinating rumor about the Sword of Kahless. It is said that this magnificent artifact was seen within the last few days on Ras T'klar. My sources – and I do not refer to the Ferengi Bunt who, not surprisingly is very much in fear of you – tell me you were there recently. I have a client who is most interested in acquiring this unique piece of Klingon history. Perhaps you can help me locate it in exchange for information regarding the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer."
Shego was slightly unnerved to know that her presence on Ras T'klar was known to Brotherson. She had thought she'd kept a low profile and drawn attention away from herself by leaving Kim Possible holding the proverbial bag; she'd even learned that, just as she hoped, the T'klarians were seeking the Starfleet officer's extradition in conjunction with the melee at the warehouse. Now Shego wondered what else Brotherson knew about her and her activities.
"Sounds interesting," she finally said. "So what do you propose?"
"You will help me locate the Sword of Kahless and I will then help you with your inquiry."
"How do I know you won't take the money, so to speak, and run?"
"Because, Ms. Shego, I am an honorable man. I do not conduct business that way. And to give you incentive to accept my offer, I will tell you this now: the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer does indeed exist. And it is functional."
Shego's eyes opened wide, both at the news that the PDVI existed and the prospect that Dr. D's whack plan was actually viable.
"Okay, Big Daddy. You've got yourself a deal," Shego said." And I think we can move this along pretty quickly. I actually think I know where the Sword is."
"Oh?" Brotherson asked, mildly surprised.
"Yeah. Aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise."
"Really?" Big Daddy said. "And why do you say that, Ms. Shego?"
"Because," she replied, "I'm pretty sure I saw it in the hands of a Starfleet pixie named Kim Possible, whose service records say she's a member of Enterprise's crew." Shego knew she was going with a hunch. But something told her she was right about the bat'leth she'd seen in Possible's hands.
Brotherson smiled. "That is most excellent. Most excellent indeed. Since you have been forthcoming, I will respond in kind. The Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer has been disassembled …"
A dark look crossed Shego's face.
"Fear not. It is in just two pieces." Brotherson retrieved a data padd, pressed some buttons, and handed the device to Shego. "You will find one half of the item at the location described in this file. Stay in touch with me, Ms. Shego. If what you say is true, I will soon be able to provide you with the additional information you seek regarding the other half of your Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer."
TBC …