Enterprise – The Maiden Voyage
by Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction.
Notes are at the end of the chapter.
Chapter 03 – To Boldly Go…
"It is 07.50 hours Earth standard time. You are expected on the observation deck in 24.01 minutes, Subcommander," the impersonal voice of the board computer said, and T'Pol resurfaced from her meditative state to acknowledge the pre-scheduled warning. 24.01 minutes were more than adequate to change from her meditation robe into a Starfleet uniform and join the launch celebration.
Those were Vulcan minutes, of course, based upon the beating of the Vulcan heart and the logic of units of ten. A hundred Vulcan heartbeats equalled one Vulcan minute. In human terms, based on standard time measurement, a Vulcan's heart beat two hundred and forty times per minute. Thus a Vulcan minute equalled twenty-four standard seconds and twenty-four Vulcan minutes equalled ten standard ones.
Such conversion calculations might have confused a human at first. For T'Pol, the announcement of the computer signalled that she was due on the spacedock's observation deck in the equivalent of ten Earth minutes.(1)
She rose from her kneeling position gracefully, drew the curtain in front of the small niche holding the ancient meditation statue – now glowing with a holographic fire from its hollow centre rather than a real one – and went to change into the bland human uniform she would wear for the duration of the mission. She would have preferred a Vulcan one – Earth fabrics felt generally unpleasant on the dry Vulcan skin – but T'Kahr Soval had advised her to blend in, to avoid unnecessary provocation, and she saw the wisdom of his advice. At least the coverall was easy to put on… a fact that left her a spare moment to go through her mental checklist before leaving her quarters.
She reached the observations deck in time, of course. Anything else would have been unacceptable. A large group of invited guests was already there, including various high-ranking Starfleet officers, a contingent of alien dignitaries – Vulcan was, as always, represented by T'Kahr Soval, with S'toss and a few junior diplomats in tow – and more were still coming.
For Starfleet, this was an event comparable only with the very first contact with an alien species – the Vulcans – almost a century ago. Not surprising that they wanted to throw the biggest farewell party for the heroes of the new era that they could whip up in such a short time.
The senior staff of the Enterprise stood a little apart, gazing at the small section of their ship that could be seen through the observations window. After a moment of hesitation T'Pol went and joined them, earning a somewhat surprised look from the captain and a glare of icy outrage from S'toss. Surreptitiously, Ensign Sato shifted positions, putting T'Pol between herself and Lieutenant Reed. T'Pol noticed it, of course; this was something she would have to research eventually.
She knew of Ensign Sato's imprisonment, of course, and that Lieutenant Reed used to be an intelligence officer before transferring back to the Fleet. But there was obviously some history between these two and she needed to know what it was. Fortunately, she had the means to find it out. Having worked for the Vulcan Ministry of Intelligence did have its advantages.
The low hum of conversation now quieted and all eyes turned with anticipation to Admiral Forrest who was entering the observations deck at that very moment. Like all humans present, the admiral was flushed with excitement; a sentiment that even T'Pol understood. This was a great day for humans – even if High Command did not approve – and giving the farewell speech for the maiden voyage of the first ever warp 5 ship built on Earth was an honour, even for an admiral.
Such things only happened once in a lifetime – if one was very, very lucky.
"When Zefram Cochrane made his legendary warp flight ninety years ago... and drew the attention of our new friends, the Vulcans, we realized that we weren't alone in the galaxy," Forrest actually managed to keep any hint of sarcasm out of his tone, which was admirable, given the circumstances. "Today we're about to cross a new threshold. For nearly a century, we've waded ankle-deep in the ocean of space... now it's finally time to swim."
Actually, Cochrane himself had been a Centaurian who had relocated to Earth decades earlier, after an encounter with an Earth ship still travelling at sublight, but most humans did not know that(2). Not even all those present. So they all applauded enthusiastically. The Vulcans, who knew the truth, of course, observed them stoically.
"The warp five engine wouldn't be a reality without men like Doctor Cochrane and Henry Archer, who worked so hard to develop it," Forrest continued. "So it's only fitting that Henry's son, Jonathan Archer, will command the first starship powered by that engine."
"That is our clue," Jack said quietly. "Let's go, people!" Then he raised his voice. "Permission to board ship, sir!"
Forrest nodded. "Granted. Good luck, Jack… to all of you."
"Thank you, sir," Jack saluted, and while the admiral continued his speech, he led his command crew to the door that opened into the corridor connecting the observations deck with his ship.
This was not the first time that T'Pol entered the bridge of the brand new Earth ship but once again, the difference between it and the elegant, airy design of Vulcan ships hit home almost painfully. True, part of the reason was that the bridge had not been quite finished yet. The floors and walls were mostly naked steel, with source light coming from a series of glowing panels. There were no carpets on the floor, no wood panelling on the walls like on other Earth ships she had visited before – just the command chair in the centre, surrounded by the various duty stations.
Jack Archer took the Captain's chair as if he had been born to occupy it. The rest of the command crew went to their respective stations: T'Pol to sciences, Mayweather to the helm, Ensign Sato to communications and Reed to Tactical. Crewman April Jacobson was already sitting at Operations.
At the control station of Engineering Charles Tucker III was represented by his second-in-command, Lieutenant Anna Hess. She hailed from Valhalla, one of the earliest human colonies from the previous century and looked like a Valkyrie: six foot tall, ash blond, with icy blue eyes and equipped with ample charms, as Tucker discretely put it.
Hoshi switched on the main viewscreen of the bridge, on which archival footage of an elderly Zefram Cochrane was running… a small detail from his speech during the ground breaking ceremony for the Warp Five Complex thirty-two years previously.
"On this site, a powerful engine will be built... an engine that will someday let us travel a hundred times faster than we can today," Cochrane was saying. "Imagine it. Thousands of inhabited planets at our fingertips. And we'll be able to explore those strange new worlds... and seek out new life and new civilizations…"
"Split screen," Jack ordered. "Show me an external view of the ship!"
Hoshi obeyed, and now they could see on the right side of the screen the live feed from the external cameras of the spacedock. The mooring lines were snapping away in bursts of frozen vapour while on the left side of the screen Cochrane was finishing his speech.
"This engine will let us go boldly... where no man has gone before."
His image was replaced by that of the observations deck and the invited guests. They were all watching the same thing that could be seen on the right side of the screen: the Enterprise in the spacedock, ready to launch. Everyone (save perhaps the Vulcans) held their breath.
In Engineering, Charlie Tucker was standing before the now throbbing warp core, also holding his breath. He had been waiting for this moment all his adult life.
On the bridge, Jack leaned forward in his big chair. "Take her out... straight and steady, Mister Mayweather. Full thrusters."
Mayweather grinned from ear to ear. "Aye-aye, Captain!" he replied enthusiastically.
His hands moved on the console, quickly and surely, and the great ship began to move out of its berth. It appeared lean and masculine on the screen – a majestic sight with its twin nacelles that looked as if it had actual wings. Everyone watched with bated breath as it cleaned the spacedock and moved into open space.
"We're clear, Captain," Mayweather reported a moment later. "Jupiter in twenty-two minutes by half impulse."
"No need to dawdle, Ensign," Jack replied, his eyes very bright. "Go to full impulse. Let's see what this baby is capable of."
If possible, Mayweather's grin grew even wider. "Full impulse it is, sir!"
As they accelerated to full impulse power, the external cameras showed the small, russet globe of Mars fly by. Ahead of them a crescent of Jupiter was already visible and kept growing, filling out into the entire planet.
Jack tapped a button on the arm of his chair. "Trip, we are about to clear Jupiter within the minute. How are you doing, down there?"
One of the smaller screens showed Charlie working at the warp core, which was now pulsing at full power. He looked up at the comm unit, grinning like a loon, too. "Ready when you are."
"Prepare for warp one," Jack ordered, trying to keep his voice steady. It was not an easy task. "Programming ready?"
"Programme set for standard warp entry, Captain," Crewman Jacobson reported, excitement clearly noticeable in her voice.
"Course laid in, sir," Mayweather looked up to Jack, his grin impossibly wide. "Request permission to get underway."
T'Pol was the only one not infected by the general euphoria. Studying her readouts, she frowned and turned to Jack. "Captain, the coordinates are off by point two degrees."
"Thank you," Jack replied with exaggerated gratitude. He would not let her spoil the moment they had all waited for so long. "Mr Mayweather, correct course and then let's go. Ahead warp one."
"Accelerating to warp one, sir," Mayweather acknowledged. "Here we go… warp point five… warp point seven, ...point eight, ...warp one, sir."
A small section of Saturn's rings was still visible when the Enterprise burst into warp and was swallowed by subspace.
By the time they had done one-third of their planned route, routine had slowly settled in. The relief crews of the second and third shift had grown more comfortable with the new ship, getting a feel for the real thing after the simulators.
At the moment they had afternoon shift, according to the ship's internal time, which meant that Charlie Tucker was off-duty. Theoretically. He considered the fact that he was still crawling along the uncomfortably cramped service tunnels – called Jefferies tubes after one of the ship's designers – merely as recreational activity.
He was the chief engineer, after all. And he still had plenty of time before the pre-scheduled dinner with the captain.
Climbing up a ladder through a narrow passageway, he resurfaced in an empty corridor where, according to the latest routine check, some conduits needed to be examined. As he reached the top, he looked up to locate the conduits in question… and froze at the sight of Ensign Mayweather, sitting comfortably on the ceiling, reading an e-book.
"You're upside down, Ensign," he said, recovering from his surprise.
Mayweather grinned, clearly proud of himself. "Yes, sir."
"Care to explain why?" Charlie inquired. That couldn't be comfortable.
"I'm relaxing," Mayweather explained. "Old habit. When I was a kid, we called it the sweet spot. Every ship's got one."
"Sweet spot," Charlie repeated, intrigued... and just a bit cross. As an engineer, he should have known that; should have deduced that such spots ought to exist.
Apparently, this was another example of practice over theory when it came to space travel.
Mayweather nodded. "It's usually about halfway between the grav-generator and the bow plate. Takes a while to find it in a new ship, though."
"How did you get up there?" Charlie asked. "With magnetic boots?"
Mayweather laughed. "Nah, it's actually rather easy," he pointed to a thin conduit that crossed right below him. "Grab hold of that conduit."
Charlie reached for the conduit, a little bewildered. "And now?"
"Now swing your legs up," the ensign instructed; as Charlie hesitated, he repeated. "Swing your legs, sir"
Still a bit suspicious, Charlie swung his legs up, and to his amazement, they stayed up. His curled body was floating in zero G.
"Wow!" he breathed in awe.
He did have ample experience in zero G, of course – working outside the ship in an EVA suit provided one with enough practice in that area – but experiencing this inside the ship, without an emergency shutdown of the artificial gravity, was truly amazing.
"Now let go," Mayweather encouraged him, grinning.
Charlie released his grip, his entire body floating in mid-air. He laughed in delight, turning slowly. He tried to control his movements, but this was very different from working in an EVA suit. He miscalculated the angle and ended up crashing onto the ceiling where Mayweather was sitting.
"Ouch!" he hissed, rubbing his head.
"Takes practice," the ensign commented. "Starfleet should train their people in zero G situations a lot more than they currently do… if only so that they won't be completely helpless, should the grav-generators fail."
"I'll add this to my report," Charlie settled in next to him. "And you guys did this all the time?"
"That and more," Mayweather replied. "Ever slept in zero G?"
"Slept?" Charlie echoed. "We're not flying a twentieth-century spacecraft, Ensign."
"You don't know what you've missed," Mayweather returned. "It's like being back in the womb."
Charlie laughed; then, after a moment, he asked, curiously. "Captain tells me you've been to Trillius Prime…"
Mayweather nodded. "Took us three years to get there; of course, the Horizon's top speed is warp Two, so twenty-four light years was a long trip for us… pardon the pun, sir."
Charlie waved away his concern. "Never mind. Where else have you been?"
"To Draylax and both the Teneebian moons, among other places. Including the Vega colony."
Charlie whistled. "Sounds amazing. I've only been to one inhabited planet besides Earth... nothing there but dust-dwelling ticks," he paused. "Draylax… that's in the Beta Quadrant, isn't it?"
"In the Epsilon Indi system, yeah, orbiting the third sun, a K-class star," the ensign replied. "The only other inhabited planet of the system orbits the primary star, an orange dwarf; but the Smurfs are not very welcoming to visitors."
"Smurfs?" Charlie laughed. The ensign shrugged.
"They are small, compared with humans, and they are blue and have white hair, so… Smurf. Aside from the antennae, of course."
"Oh, you mean the Andorians!" Charlie realized. "I've seen pictures but as far as I know there hasn't been any contact between them and us."
"No official contacts anyway," Mayweather replied. "They don't like Vulcans – or anyone connected to them. We never encountered them, but other boomer ships have, and they say it's better to get out of their way. They are very aggressive."
"Angry Smurfs in space," Charlie murmured, bemused. "I guess growing up a boomer has its advantages. I'll tell the captain to consult you regularly. Your experiences will be invaluable for us."
"Why would he need me?" Mayweather asked in surprise. "I'm sure that Vulcan science officer of us knows more about all known species in the galaxy than us boomers counted together."
"Perhaps," Charlie allowed. "But at least I'm sure I can trust your input," he carefully rose and turned around to float back to the floor. "Speaking of which, I must go. I'm invited to dinner with her and the captain in twenty minutes, and I have an appointment with a shower first. Crawling around in the Jefferies tubes is smelly work."
Fifteen minutes later Charlie was walking through the mess hall, which was fairly busy so at dinner hour. A dozen or so crewmembers were sitting at long metal tables, helping themselves at the food line, and getting drinks at a row of beverage dispensers. He spotted a group of his engineering crewmen at one of the tables, having dinner.
One of them, Crewman Fletcher – nicknamed Mr Tall, Dark and Hilarious by the women – saw him while setting down his platter and called out across the room. "Got an empty seat here, Commander."
Under different circumstances Charlie would have accepted the offer. He preferred a laid-back exchange with his crew; it was better for the working atmosphere and besides, he was an easy-going guy by his very nature. Tonight, however, he had to decline.
"Sorry, Fletcher, not tonight," he said, heading towards the small door at the end of the room. "Dinner with the boss."
"Some people have just been born lucky," Fletcher chuckled. Charlie winked at him and opened the door to the captain's mess.
It was a small, nicely-appointed room with a table for four – although, if necessary, six people could have been seated at it –covered by a white tablecloth. The room is warmly lit by two holographic candles at the centre of the table. At the moment, three of the four chairs were occupied by Jack, T'Pol and, to Charlie's surprise, by Lieutenant Reed.
"Oh, Trip, good," Jack looked up as the chief engineer entered. "I was about to ring you," he indicated the chair at his left. "Sit down."
"Sorry," Charlie took the proffered seat. "I had to take a shower first, after crawling around in all those Jefferies tubes all day. You should've started without me."
"It would have negated the very reason for his little get-together," Jack pressed a button to call the steward.
"I thought this would be more than just dinner," Charlie reached for a bread stick in the nearby basket, bit down… and frowned. "What is this?"
"Vulcan bread," Jack replied, grinning. "I thought we should broaden our culinary horizon a little."
"It is called Kreyla," T'Pol added. "You should try it with Flavinit butter.
To demonstrate her meaning, she cut off a piece from her own bread stick, speared it onto her fork and spread a blob of spicy-smelling, yellow butter over it. Then she ate it in two bites.
Charlie followed her example a little doubtfully – and was surprised by the pleasantly spicy taste. "This is actually good!"
"Hoshi suggested me to give it a try," Jack explained; then he gave the stony-faced Reed an amused look. "What about you, Lieutenant? Don't want any new experiences?"
"I'm afraid I'll have to decline, sir," the tactical officer replied stiffly. "I'm allergic to tropical grasses."
"Grasses?" Charlie frowned. "This is butter, man!"
"Which is derived from the Flavinit plant, a Vulcan orchid," Reed replied in a clipped tone.
"Your knowledge of my homeworld is impressive," T'Pol said dryly," if not completely unexpected, knowing of your previous allegiances."
"What do you know about that?" Jack asked in suspicion.
"I used to work for the Vulcan Ministry of Intelligence," T'Pol replied, completely unfazed. "I still have my connections."
"Great!" Charlie commented sarcastically. "We're surrounded by spies; well, ex-spies anyway. And I thought this mission would be about space exploration."
"It is," said T'Pol calmly. "Which is why my connections – and those of Lieutenant Reed – could prove life-saving. There are dangers out there only we ex-spies, as you call us, are aware of."
"Like what?" Charlie demanded.
"That is a topic we'll discuss after dinner," Jack intervened.
As if on clue, the door leading to the galley opened and in walked Petty Officer Daniels, carrying four plates of food.
"Pok'tar and T'mirak rice for the Subcommander, with compliments from Chef," he said, placing the first plate in front of T'Pol. "Pot roast for the rest," he added, distributing the other plates among the three men.
Charlie eyed the Vulcan's plate curiously; the dish seemed like assorted grilled vegetables. "Looks delicious," he commented.
T'Pol tried a forkful, chewed thoughtfully and raised a surprising eyebrow. "This is… most acceptable. Your cook is quite good at preparing Vulcan food."
"You should try his egg Benedict," Jack said. "It's a dream."
"I shall consider giving it a try," T'Pol replied evenly. She did not truly intend to do so, of course – Vulcans generally did not eat animal products – but she thought it better to keep that piece of information to herself.
"Tell Chef I said thanks," Jack beamed at Daniels, who simply nodded and retreated to the galley.
For the next twenty minutes or so they ate in silence. After Daniels had collected their empty dishes and brought them dessert – pecan pie for the humans and N'gaan shake, made of soy milk, for T'Pol – Jack cleared his throat.
"To come back to the actual reason for our meeting today; Subcommander T'Pol has offered to shed some light at the background of the whole Viseeth situation."
"A Vulcan, offering information voluntarily," Charlie leaned back in his chair with a smug expression on his face. "Never thought I'd live long enough to see that."
"Trip!" Jack warned; then he looked at T'Pol. "Well, Subcommander. We're listening."
T'Pol placed her glass on the table.
"The situation with the Viseeth is a delicate one," she began. "Which is why Ambassador Soval empowered me to tell you as much as I know, to avoid letting you stumble into a danger you are unfamiliar with."
"And you couldn't tell us all this before launch?" Trip asked.
"No," she replied. "The people who have pursued Gerasen Gerasal – that is the name of the Viseeth courier in your sickbay – are largely unknown to us. They use some kind of stealth technology, therefore they could have infiltrated Starfleet Headquarters. We could not take that risk."
"It seems to me that these Viseeth are the key to all this," Reed said.
"They are," T'Pol agreed. "They are one of the oldest races that still exist in corporeal form."
"Wait a minute, you mean there are races that don't?" Charlie asked incredulously.
"Of course," T'Pol replied. "This is a simple matter of evolution. Once an intelligent species has reached a certain level of development, they naturally evolve into a state of pure energy."
"What is the fun in that?" Charlie teased.
That earned him a superior Vulcan eyebrow.
"Do not be concerned, Commander," T'Pol said dryly. "Your species will not be in danger to reach that state for a very long time to come."
"And yours will?" Reed asked.
"Unfortunately, Vulcans still have a long way to go yet as well," T'Pol admitted. "Evolution has its own pace. Trying to push it forward would only result in tragedy, as your Eugenic Wars have proved not so long ago."
"Have you ever met such an evolved being?" Jack asked.
"Once," she replied. "We had a… misunderstanding with one of our neighbours and they intervened to present bloodshed. It was a short yet very impressive demonstration of psychokinetic powers we could not even begin to imagine."
"Who are these people?" Jack was fascinated by what she'd just told them.
"We do not know," T'Pol said. "They never told us the true name of their species or where they originate from, so we simply call them the Peacekeepers. That was our first encounter with them for several millennia; and we cannot be certain that the ones in the historic records are indeed the same people."
"It must be hard to make out the difference between two blobs of living energy, especially with thousands of years between encounters," Charlie said, grinning. "But what does this have to do with the cow people… I mean, the Viseeth?"
"The Viseeth, like the inhabitants of Antos IV, are a very old and advanced race," T'Pol explained. "Unlike the other ancients, however, who do not meddle with the affairs of the younger races, they chose to keep an eye on the balance of power in our galaxy and keep it…well… balanced, through careful manipulation."
"I thought that was the Vulcans," Jack said nastily.
"An understandable mistake," T'Pol replied. "The Viseeth do not like to interact with the younger races directly. They lack the necessary aggression to get their will; they apparently outgrew it somewhere along their evolutionary journey."
"So they simply use your people as muscle?" Jack asked.
"That is an apt comparison," she said. "As soon as we have developed our first faster-than-light engine, the Viseeth arranged a meeting in space between us, the Deltans and themselves. They revealed us their role in keeping up the balance of power and asked us to act for them as mediators."
"And you said yes?" Reed asked. "How did you know they were telling the truth?"
"They are a telepathic species," T'Pol said. "So are the Deltans; and so are we. Our leaders examined the proof very carefully and made the decision to accept the offer."
"It didn't help you popularity with other races, I guess," Charlie said.
"That is correct, yet also immaterial," she replied. "We are no mindless servants of the Viseeth. They consult us about the problems we have to deal with, and we decide from case to case whether or not we want to be involved."
"And what are your actual criteria?" Reed inquired quietly.
"The ultimate goal is to keep up the balance of power; to prevent one species being subjugated by a more advanced one," T'Pol explained. "For that reason, we sometimes have to slow down the technical development of the one or other world, until their neighbours have also reached a similar level."
"Is that what you're doing on Earth?" Charlie frowned. "But we were never a threat for the Centaurians! In fact, they've always supported us in our efforts to develop our warp engines further. Just think of Dr Cochrane!"
"That is true," T'Pol said. "Unfortunately, some one hundred years ago an unexpected new development has begun. Forces we still could not identify have begun to seed hostility among the younger races. The Klingon crisis was just one of the alarming signs that somebody is trying to undermine our efforts to keep up the galactic peace."
"And I presume that the courier in our sickbay has found something crucial, or they wouldn't have tried to kidnap or kill her," Jack said slowly.
T'Pol nodded. "Exactly. Or, at least, our adversaries believe so. We shall not know it for certain until Gerasen Gerasal regains consciousness and we can ask them."
"Do you speak her language?" Reed asked.
"No; but like all Viseeth who keep contact with my people, they speak flawless Vulcan. However," she pulled a PADD out of her inner pocket and handed it to Jack," we have put together a linguistic database during the long time of our association. Your exolinguist may find it useful."
Jack switched on the PADD and opened one of the audio files. The language spoken by a female voice sounded like a series of low hisses, tongue clicks and melodic whistles.
"The pronunciation may be a hindrance," T'Pol said, almost apologetically.
Jack shook his head. "Not for Hoshi. The language she couldn't unravel and learn in record time hasn't evolved yet."
"Captain, do you really want to entrust Ensign Sato with such sensitive information?" Reed frowned.
Jack gave him an icy look. "I entrust you with it, don't I? Despite your… let's say, shifting loyalties. At least I know Hoshi and what to expect from her."
"Do you indeed?" Reed returned coldly.
"Yes, I do," Jack replied. "And before you ask, T'Pol knows about Hoshi's past… as does Commander Tucker. What I would like to know is why she seems to panic every time you're in the same room."
"Perhaps you should ask her, Captain," Reed said stiffly.
"I already have; she refused to tell me," Jack scowled. "Now, I'm aware of the fact that part of your assignment is to keep an eye on her. It was part of the deal. But let me warn you, Lieutenant: should I learn that you've threatened her, or harassed her in any way, I'll make you regret it."
"By all due respect, sir, I'd like to see you try," Reed said coolly.
"No," Jack answered in a deceivingly mild voice. "Believe me, you would not. I am as easy-going a guy as they come, but I protect those who are mine."
"I thought every member of this crew were 'yours', sir," Reed said.
"Those whom I've chosen, yeah," Jack clarified.
"You did choose me," Reed pointed out.
"No," Jack said. "I chose Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, security officer, as my tactical expert. What I got is a former intelligence officer whose previous career can be summarized with a single word: Classified."
"They are one and the same, sir," Reed stated.
"I'm not sure they are," Jack said quietly. "And until I am, I can't trust you unconditionally, Lieutenant."
"I see," Reed clenched his teeth. "In that case I shall endeavour to deserve your trust, sir.""
"You do that," Jack replied simply. "Well, if no-one else has any more questions, then you're dismissed."
Reed was the first one to leave, in tightly controlled anger, T'Pol almost immediately on his heels. Charlie stayed behind for a minute.
"Do you want me to try finding out what's between Hoshi and Reed?" he offered.
Jack shook his head. "I don't want to put any more pressure on her. She's still traumatised. I hope she'll tell us out of her own free will once she'd settled in."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then I'll find other ways to find out," Jack said grimly. "T'Pol isn't the only one with connections."
"And if you happen to find out something not to your likin'?" the thickening of Charlie's drawl clearly showed his distress.
Jack's bright blue eyes were cold like ice. "Then God may have mercy with Lieutenant Reed… because I won't!"
~TBC~
(1) Quoted from "Strangers from the Sky" by Margaret Vonder Bonanno
(2) This is a semi-canonical detail, taken from "The Worlds of the Federation" by Shane Johnson. As I said, I go with TOS canon as far as possible. Which is why this story is an AU.
