Thanks to campy, captainkodak1, Commander Argus, MichaelCross, Ultimate Naco Topping, Sariah Sariah, JAM2.0, Yuri Sisteble, NothingImportantinthisworld, daywlkr82, JPMod, Zaratan, The Odd Little Turtle, calamite, mattb3671, jasminevr, surforst, Supreme Admiral of the Web, Matri, momike, Skyagent, Louis Mielke, Seamus Dubh, strength-91-possibility-none, vanillalilies, IncrediRaider8, Ace Ian Combat, Darkcloud1, TexasDad, Ezbok58a, Taechunsa, RngrThorne, Vince Stevens, conan98002, Goinghome, Emerald Dark Knight, Wanderer3, and Brother to Vorlons for reviewing and to everyone else for reading.
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Mad props to campy for beta- and proofreading.
Since Mrs. Dr. P. and I will be moving house next Friday, KP:TNG will be taking a break. Kim, Ron and the TNG crew will return in two weeks' time. However, I will be posting two special Valentine's Day Week stories. Keep an eye open for Zorpox and the Cheerleader and What Happens in Vegas …
Looking for something fun to read? Check out Commander Argus' It Finally Happened. It's a great story that begins just after the Prom.
KP belongs to Disney, TNG belongs to Paramount.
I.
"So, Ron," Geordi said, "you mind my asking if you've given any thought to what you might do about …"
"The eye?" he asked with a sigh. "Doctor Crusher says I have some weird disease that means my body will reject any organic replacement. So, no transplants, no cloning. She also said the optic nerve was so badly damaged that it can't be regurgitated …"
"I think you mean 'regenerated'" Data observed.
"… uh, yeah," Ron said. "Anyway, there's nothing to connect anything else to, so I'm stuck."
"Sorry to hear that."
"Thanks," he sighed. "At least I can do something about my face, but she said the operation would take months and even then I won't look like I did before" Ron sagged, then looked away from his companions. "KP deserves better."
"KP? Kitchen Patrol?" the android asked, confused.
"KP … Kim Possible, Data," Geordi suggested, wondering how his brilliant friend could still be so dense at times.
"Ah," Data said. "I see."
Geordi turned to his despondent lunch guest. "Ron, don't sell yourself short."
"It's hard not to. I was feeling better about things this morning, but I walk the decks and people look at me …"
"Like you are not normal. Different. Unusual. A freak. A …" Data interjected.
"Data, you're not being helpful," Geordi said.
"But is it not true? I know that is the experience I have had in some settings," the android replied.
"That's it, Data. That's exactly how I feel," Ron said bitterly. "A one-eyed freak. Walking down the corridor with the most beautiful woman on the ship. So everybody probably thinks she's a freak, too, or with me out of pity."
"Ron, I've felt that way before, too," Geordi acknowledged, tapping his visor, before continuing. "Look, it's none of my business, but since this happened, have you and Kim, well, uh, you know, been …"
"I think Geordi means to ask if you and Lieutenant Possible have engaged in sexual intercourse."
Ron, slack-jawed and beet red, looked at Data. Geordi groaned.
"I will take your reaction as an affirmative response. I believe the next question is, 'was it good for you?'"
"Data, shut up."
The android cocked his head. "But …"
"Shut up. Now," Geordi said sternly to Data before turning back to Ron. "Look, all that matters is what your friends think, especially Kim. And, Ron, I gotta tell you – I've been waiting all my life to have a woman smile the way she did when she mentioned after Senior Staff that the two of you were going to be sparring this afternoon. She really cares about you. A lot. Don't ever forget that. To be honest," he added with a laugh, "I bet Data here is going to have lots of opportunities to ask you out-of-line questions."
Ron shook his head. "I hope you're right. It's just tough."
"No need to deny that, Ron," Geordi advised. "Just remember, there are a lot of people here who want to help."
Ron looked at his new friends. "Thanks," he said, hoping their help would be enough.
II.
Kim's mood had soured since her breakfast with Ron. The implications of the possible existence of the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer were sobering. And the excitement of being invited to the reception with Admiral Nechayev had been replaced with disappointment when it dawned on her that she'd have to miss yet another evening with Ron, who would be leaving in just a few days.
And now she was tweaked with Ron. He was supposed to meet her in the gym fifteen minutes ago, but hadn't arrived and he wasn't responding to her comm badge calls. She was on a tight schedule, now that she had to prepare for the evening, and so went to her missing boyfriend's quarters to find out what the sitch was.
She pressed the door chime, but received no answer. She tried a second time, with the same result. She shook her head, then pressed the keypad and let herself in.
Kim entered and saw Ron sitting at the desk, his head in his folded arms. She was sure she heard muffled crying. "Ron?" she said gently, her earlier annoyance evaporating as she came up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"Go away," he said.
"Ron, what is it?" she asked, wondering if she might have done something to so upset him.
"Just go away."
"So not going to happen, Ron. You're stuck with me. Now sitch me."
Ron looked up at Kim. He had been crying. It was strange to see just one side of his face streaked with tears. She reached out and wiped his cheek.
"I'm friggin' useless! I'm a pariah!" Ron snapped.
Kim knew she had to be patient with Ron. Counselor Troi had asked earlier how Ron was and Kim said he seemed to be in good spirits. Deanna was pleased to hear that, but warned Kim not to be surprised if Ron experienced some mood swings and even bouts of depression over his condition.
"Ron, that's so not true and you know it! I'll leave aside how important you are to me for the moment. You know that Henri couldn't run Mistral without you!"
Ron glared at Kim. "Well, apparently he didn't get the memo padd, KP." Suddenly, Ron's sorrow returned, displacing his anger, as he said in a small, quiet voice, "He fired me."
"What are you talking about?" Kim asked, stunned.
"I came back after lunch to get ready to meet you and found a sub-space transmission. Henri said he had to let me go. Patrons didn't like Q just appearing and disappearing in the dining room. And he said my face caused some of them to lose their appetites. Based on the look he gave me when he first saw me, I suspect he lost his, too." Ron sat quietly for a moment before adding with a bitter laugh, "He said he'd give me a recommendation, though."
"Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry …"
Ron ignored Kim's words. "Guess Bonnie was right. I'm a loser, KP. My face is a mess and now I'm unemployed. Now I just need you to dump me and I'll have the trifecta …" he said glumly.
Kim knelt by Ron. "Ron, I'm not going to dump you. I don't know how to get that through your thick skull. You are so maddening sometimes!" She reached up and stroked his injured cheek. "You know, every time I see this I'm reminded of how much you care about me."
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Yeah. Now, we still have 35 minutes before I have to get ready for … snap!"
"What is it, KP? What do you have to get ready for?" Ron asked.
Kim explained about the reception for Nechayev. "I'm sorry, Ron."
"Hey, no big, KP. She's an admiral, I'm just …"
"The most important person in my life. Now, since we don't have time to go to the gym, I think we should have a quick workout here," Kim said with an inviting smile, as she got up and began to unzip her uniform.
III.
"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc, he's dead."
"Cause?" Not that it matters, he thought.
"A massive coronary. He died instantly," Dr. Crusher answered.
"Merde," Picard swore as he looked at the corpse of the deceased ship's cook. He regretted the untimely death of any crew member, but was honest enough with himself to admit that he found Pang's death to be especially inconvenient. Nechayev would be aboard in just a few short hours, expecting a proper meal. "Thank you, Doctor," he said as he turned to leave Sickbay.
Picard strode onto the bridge. "Number One, please join me in my ready room."
Riker, sitting in the captain's chair, got up and followed his superior officer into the small office adjoining the bridge.
"Tea, Earl Grey, hot," Picard instructed the replicator. "Will, please tell me that the assistant ship's cooks are capable of filling the gap left by Mr. Pang's unexpected demise."
Riker grimaced in a way that told Picard he was about to be disappointed. "I'm sorry, sir, but Kennedy has Rigelian Flu and T'vol transferred out last week. There are two trainees who might be able to manage ration packs."
The two men looked at each other; they both realized they were having the same thought. T'vol had left on the transport Bryson. That was the ship that brought …
"Lieutenant Possible did say he is the sous chef at Mistral in San Francisco," Picard noted, a note of hope in his voice.
Riker grinned. "And she was raving about his cooking when we were on the array."
"Well, Number One, nothing ventured, nothing gained," the captain said as he reached to hit his comm badge.
IV.
"Oh, Ron! Yess! Yess!" Kim cried out as her boyfriend drove her crazy with pleasure.
"Kim …Kim," he moaned, his excitement building.
"Picard to Stoppable."
The air went out of the balloon.
"Picard to Stoppable."
Kim and Ron looked at each other. Seriously tweaked, Ron rolled off of Kim and grabbed the badge she had given him. "Stoppable here," he answered, unable to hide his confusion and annoyance.
"I'm sorry if I've disturbed you, Mr. Stoppable. Would you be able to come see me in my ready room in ten minutes?" the captain asked.
Kim shrugged, indicating she had no idea as to why Picard would want to see him, though the tone in Picard's voice suggested he wanted something.
"Okay, Captain," Ron answered, looking at Kim. "But I'm, uh, finishing something here. Can I come in, uh, twenty, no, thirty?"
"That would be fine. Picard out."
Kim grinned, then pulled her boyfriend back to her. Sometimes a lieutenant outranked a captain.
V.
After he and Kim had finished exercising, Ron quickly cleaned up and went to see the captain. He had enjoyed the time he and Kim had spent together. He hoped he'd be able to remember that the next time he was feeling low, which he knew was inevitable. Yet the way she gave herself to him only drove home that she meant everything she had been saying to him. And that meant the galaxy to him.
As Ron walked onto the bridge, Riker got up and turned to him, smiling. "Go right in. He's expecting you."
Ron nodded, still baffled by the summons. He entered the ready room.
"Ah, Ron, thank you for coming. May I get you something to drink?"
Ron was thirsty. He suddenly had an intense craving for a Slurpster. But he didn't think that would reflect well on Kim and right now, he was all about making Kim look good to her captain. He noticed the captain was drinking tea.
"Uh, yeah, sure. How about a Darjeeling with some milk, no sugar."
Picard retrieved the drink for his visitor, who was still standing. "Please, have a seat."
Ron accepted the invitation and sat on the couch.
"Ron, I have a problem and I hope you can help me," Picard confessed. He explained the situation with Nechayev and the ship's cooks. "I know you are on vacation, and you have already sacrificed more than the Federation or Starfleet could ever rightfully expect, but this would be a tremendous help. I would be personally indebted to you."
Ron was dumbfounded. He considered the captain's request for a moment. It wasn't as if he had anything else to do that evening, now that Kim was going to the reception, though he had hoped to see her afterwards. Still, he could see her a bit later, and doing this could only help Kim.
"Okay. What time?"
"2015 hours."
Ron got up. "Then I'd better get to work. You or your visitor have any special likes or dislikes?" he asked with a note of authority that Picard found surprising.
"I will gladly eat anything you prepare, Mr. Stoppable. Commander Riker can fill you in on the admiral's preferences and take you to the galley."
Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah, about that …"
Picard's eyebrow arched. "Yes?"
"I, uh, don't mean any disrespect, Captain. This is a badical ship, I'm sure, because Mr. Dr. P designed it and everything. But I've seen the galley. It reminds me of the New Middleton High School kitchen. The only thing missing is Cafeteria Lady."
"Cafeteria Lady?" a confused Picard asked.
"You don't want to know. She used to do things with food that violated the laws of nature. Though Starfleet could clone her and send her onto enemy ships …" Ron mused.
"Ron …" the captain interjected, remembering that he was dealing with a civilian who clearly marched to his own drummer. "Is there anything we might we do to make the galley … acceptable?"
"Oh, sure …" Ron replied before he launched into an explanation of his requirements; having listened to Ron, Picard slapped his comm badge. The captain was willing to concede that Ron wasn't making idle demands. Ron spoke like the professional chef he was: one who could actually deliver a meal that might buy some good will with Nechayev; Picard really didn't want to have a repeat visit with the Pakleds. "Mr. LaForge, please meet Mr. Stoppable and Commander Riker in the galley in ten minutes. I will need you to be prepared to fabricate some new galley equipment …"
VI.
"You are sure of this, Mr. Worf?"
"Yes, sir, I am," the Klingon said to his commanding officer. "Ron Stoppable is the Chosen One ..."
Picard looked at his chief of security. There were few men whose judgment he trusted more than Worf's.
"… And I believe we must let Gowron know. This development could be of great importance to the Empire."
"I understand that, Mr. Worf, but it could also be disruptive."
"Sir, imagine if the Ark of the Covenant described in the ancient Hebrew Scriptures of Earth were discovered and then hidden away in a storage facility, only to be discovered at a later date. There would be outrage."
"That is true, Mr. Worf," Picard acknowledged. Though given Federation bureaucracy, Picard mused to himself, I doubt the Ark would ever surface. "Very well, I will contact the Chancellor. But I must be sure: Ron is fully aware of what this might mean?"
"Sir, Ron Stoppable knows of the legend of the Sword of Kahless. I am not sure, however, that anyone is fully aware of what this might truly mean for the Empire or the Federation."
Picard looked thoughtfully at Worf, then turned to his desktop computer, then began speaking the authorization codes that would give him, as the Arbiter of Succession, access to the leader of the Klingon Empire.
Picard was put through to Gowron's chief military aide who informed the captain that the chancellor was indisposed.
"General, Let me suggest you inform Chancellor Gowron that he contact me as soon as possible, lest he find himself in a … situation where he will have far more time on his hands," Picard said evenly.
The uniformed Klingon glowered at the captain before responding. "I will communicate your message to Gowron. Qapla'!"
"Qapla'!" Picard said in reply, watching the seal of the Klingon Empire appear on his screen.
An uppity admiral and an uppity chancellor. Picard wondered what other difficult people he was going to be called on to deal with in the near future.
VII.
"So you don't mind that I offered to do this? To be honest, KP, I really wasn't thinking … I should've checked in with you first," Ron said sheepishly. He was talking to Kim via a wall comm unit and felt a bit weird talking to a bulkhead.
"It's no big, Ron. We'll just have a late dinner. It's so not the drama," Kim said, "Besides, I think it's spankin' that Captain Picard asked for your help. What are you going to make?"
"I dunno. I, well, KP, how important is this to you?"
"Why do you ask, Ron?"
"Well, I brought you some Alaskan King salmon, first run, but I bet Miss Fussy Pants …"
Ron noticed the look on Riker's face – it was one of warning to not call Nechayev that name coupled with a frank admission that he thought Ron was dead on.
"… would really like it. Your call, Kimbo."
"Ron, that sounds so good. Fresh fish from Earth. Wow. But something tells me you'll give me a rain check."
"You can count on that, KP."
"Okay, then why don't we help the captain; I've heard the admiral can be … demanding."
"Sounds like a plan, Kim. Look, I better go, Commander Riker is waving at me."
"Ron … Love ya."
Ron smiled. "Back atcha, KP."
Ron pressed the button and ended the conversation, then turned to Riker.
"Did I hear you say you had Alaskan King salmon on board, Ron?"
"Yep. Nothing too good for Kim," he said proudly.
Riker whistled. "And she's giving that up for Nechayev? She's a better officer than I am," he said with a grin; Riker's vegan principles evaporated when it came to fresh fish from his native state. "So, tell me about this range you're having Geordi fabricate. He's not sure whether he should think you're a culinary genius or stark raving mad."
"It's an Aga. Twentieth century, gas powered. Made in England. It's to cooking what this ship is to space travel."
"That what you cook on back in San Francisco?"
"It was," Ron said, suddenly feeling morose.
"Was?" Riker asked, surprised.
Ron explained what happened. He was surprised when the First Officer's mouth broke into a huge smile.
"Mr. Stoppable, have you ever considered a career in Starfleet?" Riker asked as he wrapped his arm around Ron's shoulder.
VIII.
Tom Carter was fuming.
It was bad enough that Riker and LaForge had barely acknowledged his presence when they passed in the corridor earlier that afternoon. But they had been with Ron Stoppable, who had stolen Kim from him.
Carter was tweaked.
How could Kim have dumped me for that, that … buffoon? He wondered.
It made no sense. Stoppable didn't seem particularly bright, even if he could handle himself in an argument; he had retrograde views on topics like food – views that Kim apparently had harbored, which made Tom shudder; and he was nothing but a glorified cook.
Sure, he was brave; everybody had heard about the mission to Ras T'klar. But was he truly brave or simply stupid? If he hadn't volunteered for the assignment, he and Kim never would have gone to the Treaty Planet – and they would never have found themselves on that moon where Stoppable had been injured – that was his own fault – and Kim nearly killed – he couldn't forgive Ron for that.
Tom Carter, on the other hand, had graduated third in his class at the Academy, was the son of the First Officer of the Galaxy-class starship Kirov, was polished and handsome and just what a woman like Kim Possible needed in her life.
Carter remembered how he had found a still wild young officer with preposterous notions of what she could do and helped provide her with direction. Tom knew that he and Kim were a great team. He had it all figured out. Someday, he'd be captain of his own ship and Kim, by then his wife, would be chief of security. They'd do great things together.
But then Stoppable showed up and ruined everything.
He'd taken Kim from him.
She deserved better than Ron Stoppable. She shouldn't have to go through life with a deformed moron who didn't understand what was best for her. She deserved Tom Carter.
Tom wasn't sure how he'd do it, but he was determined to win back Kim, even if it wasn't pretty. As the man once said, sometimes, to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs.
IX.
"Sir, we are receiving a hail from Ferranti," Data said.
"Put it through," Picard replied.
"Jean-Luc, good to see you!" declared Ferranti's commanding officer with the enthusiasm of a man who is about to divest himself of an unwanted guest.
"The sentiment is mutual, Thabo," Picard answered. "Is the admiral ready to come aboard?"
"Yes, she is," the spare African said, his face communicating what he dare not say out loud: Watch out. She's in a mood!
Picard simply smiled and nodded. "Very well then. Take up position off our starboard quarter; we will then beam Admiral Nechayev aboard."
"Consider it done, Jean-Luc," Ferranti's captain said in a way that made Picard feel like he had just agreed to accept delivery of a warp core that was on the verge of going critical. "M'benga out."
Picard watched as the image of his fellow starship commander was replaced by the reaches of interstellar space before turning to his executive officer.
"Well, Number One, it looks like it is time for us to greet our visitor."
"Yes, sir," Riker said sympathetically.
"Mr. Data, you have the bridge," Picard said as he rose from his chair and made his way to the turbolift.
X.
"Look, dude, I don't care if you are a whateveryoucallit systems specialist!" Ron barked at the stunned crewman, "This is not the pan I asked for. Now if you want to explain to Captain Picard why his dinner tanked, be my guest!"
"Sorry, Mr. Stoppable, I'll go back to engineering and try again," the harried man said, heading for the door.
"Wait," Ron said.
The Denobulan turned back to Ron.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I've just been under a lot of stress …"
"… and you want this meal to turn out just right. If Captain Picard looks good, Lieutenant Possible looks good."
Ron, slack jawed, stared at the man, who smiled in return.
"C'mon, Mr. Stoppable. Everybody on board knows; I can tell you that everyone in Engineering is pulling for you two."
"Aw, man …" Ron whined. This is like being back in high school, he thought. Though in high school, I never dated Kim. So maybe it isn't like high school. But if everyone's talking about us it is like high school …
"Excuse, me, Mr. Stoppable," the bemused crewman said, interrupting Ron's mental dialogue. "I'm going to go fabricate the pan you asked for. I'll be back in a few minutes," he added as he left Ron alone in the galley.
Ron looked around the starship's food preparation area. In a very short time, the space had been reconfigured to approach his standards. He wondered how the flagship of the entire Federation had been sent into space with a kitchen that would have met with the disapproval of even Cafeteria Lady.
He had his back to the door and his hands on the counter as he shook his head and muttered, "Mr. Dr. P. …"
"So, what about Daddy?" Kim asked, nestling her chin on Ron's shoulder.
Ron was surprised when he felt his girlfriend's arms wrap around his middle. "Kim, your dad is one of the most brilliant people I've ever met. He knows how to create badical starships – and daughters …" that earned Ron a contented purr of approval "… but he knows squat about kitchens."
Kim laughed. "Ron, what do you remember eating at our house on the nights Dad was responsible for making dinner?"
Ron thought about that. "Hmmm. Chinese take-out. Bueno Nacho. Pizza … Ah, I'm seeing a pattern here!"
"Good job, Einstein!" Kim said, nibbling on Ron's ear.
"Oooo, KP, I like that! You want to be Assistant Temporary Ship's Cook?"
"I'd like that," she said to Ron, before she reluctantly pulled away from him, "but I have to go get ready for the reception for Admiral Nechayev. I just thought I'd stop by before heading back to my quarters."
Kim studied Ron's face for a moment, then gently poked him in the chest. "Okay. Spill. You've got a secret! Don't make me use the Pout!"
"Commander Riker asked me if I might be interested in becoming Ship's Cook …"
Kim stared at Ron, her mouth open with surprise.
"… What do you think?" he asked
Kim threw her arms around him and kissed him.
"I'll take that as your way of saying this is a good idea?" Ron asked with a grin.
"Ferociously good! I can't wait to talk with you about this later on!" Kim looked at her boyfriend. "Snap. I wish I didn't have to go now."
"Duty calls, yadda yadda yadda."
"So yadda," Kim said with a fetching smile, before turning to leave. "See you after your debut, Chef Boy!"
Ron forgot about his injuries and all of his troubles as he watched his lifelong best friend-turned-girlfriend leave the galley. After the door slid closed and he was alone he thrust his fists towards the ceiling and let out a very hearty "Booyah!"
XI.
"Welcome aboard, Admiral," Picard said, extending his hand to his visitor.
"Thank you, Captain," Nechayev replied coolly as she stepped off the transporter pad. "Commander Riker," she said nodding at Enterprise's XO, before turning her attention back to Picard. "I'm looking forward to our dinner after the reception."
"I'm glad to hear that, Admiral," Picard said.
"Yes. Now, let me introduce Will Du of Galactic Justice," she said, as a young man in a Starfleet command red uniform stepped off the platform.
"Sir, Will Du, at your service."
"I am sure you are wondering about Mr. Du's uniform, Captain. Even though he is assigned to Galactic Justice, he holds the rank of lieutenant. We are very fortunate to have his assistance. He is one of GJ's top agents."
"I see," Picard said, hiding his pique at having Galactic Justice insert itself into an investigation that a member of his crew was quite ably handling. "And this would be?" the captain asked, looking at the young woman standing on the platform.
"My Protocol Aide, on assignment from the Federation Diplomatic Corps. Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Ms. Bonnie Rockwaller, Ms. Rockwaller, Captain Picard."
The starship commander shook hands with the young diplomat.
"It's an honor to meet you, Captain," Bonnie said in a pleasant, if slightly ingratiating, tone.
"Thank you, Ms. Rockwaller. Now, allow me to welcome you both aboard Enterprise," Picard said, looking at Will and Bonnie. "I hope you both enjoy your stay with us. Commander Riker will escort you to your quarters. The reception will begin in approximately 35 minutes; I look forward to seeing you in Ten Forward.
"Admiral, if I may …" he suggested, reaching for her duffle bag.
"Thank you, Captain," Nechayev said in a manner that made him feel like a bellhop. Even Lwaxana Troi, who occasionally treated Picard like a butler never actually managed to make him feel like the help.
XII.
Kim was talking with Beverly Crusher when the doors to Ten Forward slid open and Picard, Nechayev, Will Du and Bonnie entered.
"I so cannot believe it …" Kim said, surprised by the appearance of her old high school classmate.
"Believe what, Lieutenant?" the doctor asked.
Kim realized she'd just spoken aloud. Leave it to Bonnie to help throw Kim just by entering a room. "Oh, uh, the woman with the captain and the admiral. We went to school together."
"Really? The galaxy sure is a small place," Beverly observed. "Well, I'm sure the two of you will enjoy catching up," the doctor added as she peeled away from Kim and headed to Deanna, who was beckoning Enterprise's CMO.
Kim watched as Picard made introductions. It wasn't long before the captain and the visitors had reached her.
"Admiral Nechayev, allow me to introduce Lieutenant Kimberly Ann Possible, our lead investigator on the Array case."
"Lieutenant," Nechayev said frostily.
"Sir," she responded crisply.
"Your father designed this ship, if I'm correct?" she asked.
"Yes, sir, he did."
"It must be very nice to serve on board, then. A family affair."
"It was a great privilege, sir, to be posted to the Federation's flagship."
"Yes, it was," Nechayev replied, giving Kim the once over as if she was looking for something to be wrong with her uniform. "Lieutenant, allow me to introduce Mr. Du; he will be working with you on the investigation."
"Lieutenant Possible," he said smugly, extending his hand.
"Mr. Du," she acknowledged, taking an instant dislike to the GJ man, who was now wearing civilian clothing.
"And I understand you already know Ms. Rockwaller," the admiral said evenly.
"Yes, sir. Bonnie, welcome to Enterprise."
"Thank you, Kim. It's good to be here," Bonnie replied.
Kim suddenly felt wary as she recognized the look on Bonnie's face as her one-time classmate's predator's smile. It was the same one she'd worn back in high school when she had tried to depose Kim as captain of the cheer squad. Kim knew something was up – and she suspected she wasn't going to like it.
The introductions were interrupted by the chirping of Picard's comm badge.
"Picard here."
"The secure transmission you were expecting, sir."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. I'm on my way to my ready room."
Picard looked at the admiral. "If you will excuse me …"
"Of course, Captain. Should I still plan on seeing you at dinner?" Nechayev asked. For all her coolness to Picard, she knew if he was excusing himself, it was with good reason.
"Yes, indeed," he replied, before turning to Kim. "Lieutenant, you're with me," Picard said much to her surprise before he signaled Worf to join them.
XIII.
Worf, knowing why they were going to the bridge, fell behind Picard and Kim, so the captain could apprise her of the situation.
"I'm sorry to be doing this on such notice, Lieutenant, but it seemed appropriate to include you."
"I understand, sir. But why not Ron?" she asked.
"I am not ready for Chancellor Gowron to know the identity of the Chosen One. Mr. Worf, however, can attest to Ron's ability to command the Sword and you can attest to the changes to the weapon before and after the … incident."
"I see. Permission to speak freely?" she asked as they boarded the turbolift.
"Of course."
"We need to tell Ron, sooner rather than later. He has a right to know he's being discussed with the Klingon High Chancellor."
"Lieutenant, I will tell him as soon as is appropriate. The potential political ramifications of this are enormous."
"I understand, sir, but Ron is not a thing to be used in diplomatic games. He's already done more for the Federation than almost anyone on board this ship."
"On that point, Lieutenant, I could not agree with you more," Picard said as the doors to the bridge slid open.
The three officers made their way to the ready room, where Picard accepted the transmission from Qo'noS.
"Picard," Gowron growled curtly.
"Chancellor, so good to see you," Picard replied; the human and the Klingon unfolded their dialogue as if they were seasoned kabuki performers. Each man had a role to play and each would observe form as they sought to re-establish their authority. Gowron may have been ruler of the Klingon Empire, but Picard had the ability, as Arbiter of Succession, to undermine the Klingon's hold on office. At the same time, Gowron knew that Picard would not act rashly, lest he damage relationships between the two peoples.
"What is it you want?" the Klingon asked.
"It is not what I want, Gowron, but what I must tell you. The Sword of Kahless has been found. And it is in the possession of the Chosen One."
"What! You cannot be serious. The Sword has not been seen in twenty generations!"
Worf joined in the conversation. "But it has been seen in this one, Gowron. I have held it in my own hands, seen its power."
"Worf, are you telling me you are the Chosen One? This isn't some ploy to retrieve the honor of the House of Mogh, is it? Besides, your testimony would not be allowed. You know that!"
"I do, but you are not a fool …"
Kim was shocked to see Worf talk so boldly to a head of state; she wondered what the sitch was between these two.
"… And I know that you will listen, even to one who has been discommended, on a matter of such grave importance to the Empire. And, we can offer another witness to the Sword's existence."
"Who?"
"Me, sir," Kim said, after Worf nodded to her.
"And who are you?"
"Lieutenant Kim Possible ... " Kim answered.
"She is the consort of the Chosen One," Worf interjected.
"You are telling me that the Chosen One has picked a human …" Gowron asked, his words dripping with disgust, his wild eyes seeming especially crazed, "… as his mate?"
"I am afraid, Chancellor, that the Chosen One is a human," Picard said.
Gowron glowered. "I will see this Chosen One and this Sword for myself. We will rendezvous in two days' time at Khitomer."
"I will need to clear that with my superiors, Chancellor," Picard said.
"I suspect that they will agree when you tell them I want this," the Klingon said.
"I suspect you are right, Gowron. Picard out."
Picard let out a deep sigh, then looked at Kim and Worf.
"Consort, Lieutenant Worf?" the captain wondered.
"Lieutenant Possible is his mate, sir …" Worf said.
"Lieutenant?" Picard asked.
Kim had not thought of things in these terms before now. "Well, uh, Ron is my best friend, and he is now my boyfriend, and we are pretty serious about things, but it's not as if we've set a date, though we both expect to at some point …" Kim's head was beginning to hurt. "Sir, this is all so ferociously awk-weird," she admitted.
"Awk-weird? Yes, that seems to sum it up well, Lieutenant. I suggest that you and Mr. Stoppable talk about this as soon as possible. Then you can brief me on your conversation so I can decide how we should proceed with Gowron. I, in the meantime, must go to my dinner with the admiral." Picard got up and straightened his tunic, then looked at Kim. "I do hope that Mr. Stoppable's cooking is as good as advertised, Lieutenant. Otherwise, we may all want to return to Qo'noS with the Chancellor."
XIV.
"This really was superb, Captain. I may have to have your cook reassigned to Starbase 112," the admiral said.
"I hate to disappoint you," Picard said disingenuously, "but that is not possible. Our ship's cook actually died earlier today; your dinner was prepared by a civilian who is visiting with us."
"You lead a charmed existence, Captain Picard," the admiral observed in a less than friendly manner. "Let's turn to business, if we may.
"As you know, Starfleet has become increasingly concerned about the activities of the Orion Syndicate. The Federation Council has decided to take action."
"That is welcome news, Admiral. The Syndicate is a cancer on the Alpha Quadrant," Picard said.
"Yes, it is. However, the Council has decided that at this time it is a cancer they are not prepared to excise. There are elements in the diplomatic corps who believe that we would be better off winning over the Orionisi as friends, instead of further antagonizing them. The Romulans have been increasingly belligerent lately, as have the Cardassians. And there are questions about the long-term durability of the alliance with the Klingons, should Gowron fall from power.
"The Federation Council has authorized negotiations to … normalize … relations with the Syndicate, which will be held on board Enterprise, since it is the Federation flagship."
"I see," Picard said, distinctly unhappy about this news; he couldn't have been less pleased if he was told his ship was about to become a space-borne bordello.
"We will rendezvous with Jumper tomorrow at which time the Federation representative will come on board," Nechayev said.
"And who might that be?" Picard asked.
"Lord Fiske," Nechayev replied.
"The archaeologist?"
"Yes, Captain. Lord Montgomery Fiske. Noted archaeologist and collector of antiquities, English nobleman, galaxy-class eccentric, and highly-placed, well-connected Federation diplomat. Make sure he is assigned the best quarters you have."
"I will, Admiral," Picard assured her as he poured her some coffee. He then proceeded to brief her on the conversation with Chancellor Gowron and the developments regarding the Sword of Kahless and the Chosen One.
"Well, I see no reason to disappoint the Chancellor, Captain, especially since you are the Arbiter of Succession. Please let Mr. Stoppable know that I would like to meet with him tomorrow; I want to make sure he appreciates the gravity of the situation."
"I do not think you will need to worry about that, Admiral. He has proven himself to be a very resourceful young man. And Lieutenant Possible is going to discuss the matter with him tonight."
"Ah yes, Lieutenant Possible. It seems your security officer made her mark on Ras T'klar. I learned just before beaming over to Enterprise that the T'klarians have formally requested her extradition. They claim she used directed-energy weapons on the planet; the Ferengi trader whose facilities were upended during Lieutenant Possible's mission has said he is willing to testify to that fact."
"That is outrageous! I must protest!" Picard said heatedly. "You have read the lieutenant's and Mr. Stoppable's reports. She is not guilty of any crime."
"I know that, Captain. I know that," Nechayev responded, trying to placate Picard. "I have no intention of turning her over to them. However, I must do something to show we acknowledge their displeasure, lest they proscribe Federation citizens from their world. I have decided to void Possible's promotion and return her to the rank of ensign. I am also suspending her from the investigation and placing Mr. Du in charge."
"Admiral …" Picard said, his anger barely contained.
"Captain, my mind is made up. We will inform her before the briefing tomorrow morning," Nechayev said, getting up from her chair. "Thank you for a splendid meal. Perhaps you could ask your visiting cook if he would be willing to prepare meals for the Ambassador and the Orionisi representatives?"
"Yes, I can. Tell me though, Admiral," he snorted, "should I do that before or after I tell his girlfriend about her demotion?"
Nechayev was surprised, if only momentarily. "That's your decision, Captain. It is one of the privileges of command."
XV.
Ron had just finished cleaning up after preparing dinner for Picard and Nechayev. He was gratified by what the stewards had relayed from the two senior officers. He knew he had two very satisfied diners on his hands. Coupled with Riker's introduction of the idea of Ron staying on board Enterprise as the Ship's Chef (Ron had already made it clear he was not a cook but a chef and the Executive Officer agreed to that change in nomenclature should Ron join the crew), Ron was viewing the evening as a success. The idea that he could stay on board and be with Kim made him feel like a million bars of gold-pressed latinum; that would have been true even if they were still 'just' best friends. But now that they had taken their relationship to a new level, he couldn't have been happier. The night's developments – along with the time he had spent with Kim earlier that afternoon – made Ron feel that he could actually manage the horrible injuries he'd suffered.
He turned out the lights in the revamped galley – what could be his galley – and walked into the quiet corridor. There were few officers and crew afoot at this hour; despite the fact that Enterprise functioned 24 hours a day, the majority of those aboard adhered to a traditional Earth day, waking in the ship's morning and retiring for the evening when ship's night came. Ron was looking forward to seeing Kim, to hearing about the reception she had attended and to telling her more about the idea that Commander Riker had floated.
XVI.
Kim had left the reception in Ten Forward and headed to Security to do some more work in anticipation of the meeting with Admiral Nechayev and Will Du the next morning. She had a bad feeling about the GJ agent, suspecting he would try to make her look bad. She knew that was somewhat paranoid, but the presence of Bonnie Rockwaller on board had resurrected memories of all sorts of juvenile one-upmanship.
After spending some time reviewing her files on the Array case, Kim decided to call it a night and left the office. She had been looking forward to seeing Ron after a very full evening. She knew she had to talk with him about the conversation with the Klingon High Chancellor. And she wanted to dish about the appearance of Bonnie Rockwaller on board ship. Kim was lost in thoughts of Ron giving her one of his spankin' foot massages when the turbolift doors opened; Kim found herself looking at Tom Carter
"Kim!" he said a bit boisterously as he joined her.
"Hello, Tom," she said politely. She so did not want to chit-chat with her former boyfriend.
"So, you're looking good," Carter said, slightly slurring his words.
That surprised Kim. Has Tom been drinking? she wondered. "Thank you," she replied. "Ron's been feeding me well."
Tom snorted.
"Look, Kim, I'm going to be honest with you. I miss you. I still think we had something really good, something we should start up again."
"Hello, Tom! Have you been in suspended animation the last few days? Haven't you heard what happened with Ron and me?"
"All I've heard is that he had a stupid idea to go on some mission that almost got the two of you killed and that he's been disfigured. You're not really planning on staying with him, are you?"
"Well, duh, yes! I love him!" she replied angrily.
Carter felt like he'd been slapped across the face.
"You can't love him. Not after a week … He's a … loser"
"Tom Carter, Ron is NOT a loser and I so don't need to justify myself to you!" Kim snapped.
"Kim … " he said pleadingly. Her back was now to the wall of the turbolift and Tom was standing in front of her. She quickly began surveying her options, even though she didn't expect Tom to try to hurt her. "Don't you understand? I love you!" With that he caught Kim by surprise, grasping her arms and kissing her.
Kim was stunned.
She tried unsuccessfully to push off Tom. When that didn't work, she decided to do something more forceful. She had just positioned her leg between Carter's so she could knee him in the groin when the doors to turbolift opened.
Kim looked out and saw the last person she wanted to see at the moment. Ron.
TBC …