Hacker Chronicles 2/HACKER2.BIN/502.SSN-9301.C9

Text File | 1993-03-28 | 36KB | 672 lines

<Episode #1 "United We Stand" continued>


From:  Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard

     "You called for me, Captain?" asked Jack.
     "Yes," said Gabriele.  "Come in, Number One."  As Jack stepped
into the ready room, and the door hissed shut behind her, the
Captain lifted her eyes from the small viewscreen on her desk and
smiled.  "Have a seat," she said, indicating the chair before her.
Jack sat.
     "I've just been reviewing the applications for bridge crew,"
Gabriele said.  "As you are aware, we still lack a Counsellor, a
Tactical Officer, and a Chief of Security."
     "And a Transporter Chief," Jack added.
     "Yes.  But the filling of that particular position is not as
urgent as the others.  Have you reviewed the applications at all
yourself?"
     "No," admitted Jack.  "I didn't wish to encroach on your
territory, so to speak."
     Gabriele's eyebrow lifted.  "No fear of that, Number One.  I
value your input.  Well, then.  There are some... rather unusual
candidates applying for all three positions.  Starfleet has already
sent me several communiques about these candidates, and other
Captains have told me I'd be a fool to look twice at any of them.
Still, as you must know by now, I have a slightly warped sense of
humour, and the more I look at these personnel records the more
these three appeal to me."
     "I can't begin to imagine what they must be like," said Jack
curiously.  "Who's the applicant for Counsellor?"
     "Her name is T'Pryn."
     "A Vulcan Counsellor?"  Jack wasn't easily startled, but the
complete ludicrousness of the concept shocked her.  "How--"
     "You'll have to review her file yourself," said Gabriele.
"But despite the warnings from my peers, I think she sounds
absolutely fascinating, and I'd like to give her the chance.  So
far her record has been exemplary--it seems to be the mere
concept of the thing that throws Starfleet for a loop.  Still, they
had no excuse not to let her graduate."
     "A Vulcan Counsellor," murmured Jack again.  "I can hardly
believe it."
     "That isn't even the strangest of our applicants," said
Gabriele.  "There's a Borg and a Romulan in the lot as well--not
applying for Counsellor," she amended as Jack's eyes widened, "for
Tactical and Security.  But all I can say is, we're definitely
following in the grand old tradition of the _Enterprise_--the
weirdest crew in the galaxy."
     Jack whistled tunelessly under her breath.  "Captain, I think
this might be a little too unusual."
     "Maybe," said Gabriele cheerfully.  "But something about it
tickles my fancy--especially that girl T'Pryn.  But don't let me
convince you.  Review the files yourself--" she pushed a crystal
across the desk-- "and let me know what you think."
     "I'll do that, Captain," said Jack, taking the crystal and
getting to her feet.  "Permission to leave."
     "Permission granted," said Gabriele.  "Oh," she added as Jack
turned to leave, "did you notice Ensign Leibowitz's behaviour on
the bridge today?  I wonder if he's not...perhaps a little
inexperienced to be on the bridge?"
     "I was thinking that myself," said Jack.  "Would you accept a
suggestion for a replacement?"
     "Certainly.  Who did you have in mind?"
     "Lieutenant Maverint Slike.  He seems to be a responsible
sort, and I've heard nothing but good reports of his work so far."
    "So have I, and I agree," said Gabriele. "He's married to Dr.
Tanthis, isn't he?  She's a good worker too--Dr. N'Dok is quite
pleased with her.  Well, I'll have a talk with Mr. Leibowitz and
suggest that there might be a more suitable vehicle for his unique
capabilities elsewhere on the ship.  Feel free to notify Lieutenant
Slike of his new position."
    "I'll do that," said Jack.


From:  Nikctalos D'Pyrann

     Borg number 889, 349, 246, 345, 001 sat in his quarters at
Starbase 168.
     Having been isolated within his rooms, barren of any form of
creature comfort or appliance, was the only true way for him to
show his excitement.
     For you see, the Borg designated number 889, 349, 246, 345,
001 was unique in all the universe. He was to be appointed, if
accepted by the ship's Captain, to be the Chief of Security on the
flagship of Starfleet, the U.S.S. _Enterprise_.  What's more, he was
the first Borg inducted into Starfleet, having sought political
asylum from his Borg compatriots some years ago.
     Borg number 889, 349, 246, 345, 001 was the first Borg that
was separated from the Borglink group mind. He saw himself as an
individual, full of hopes and dreams, just like any other sentient,
not roped in by the Borg's mechanical mind. His problem was that
while he had these feelings, he could not express them. Evolution
(or what passed for evolution among the Borg) could only work
limited miracles. It had freed his mind, true, but it had not also
freed his hands and mouth so he could express those joys and
emotions.
     But now he had a bigger problem than his lack of social
skills. For while he was no longer connected per se to the
Borglink, he still needed the fine line of mental contact to
survive. In other words, he needed the mental touch of his
'brothers' in order to live, but could do without losing his
consciousness to the good of the race.
     Unfortunately, the other Borg had different intentions. They
did not appreciate his going renegade, and wanted him back, wanted
him to conform to the ways and means of Borg society. So they used
the Borglink all Borg need to continue living to pound at his mind,
in the hopes that one day, he would give in.
     And right now, mostly due to the approach of the _Enterprise_,
he was mentally weak. The chances of a Borg attack on his brain
succeeding were at least possible, and even a possibility when
dealing with the Borg is too much.
     So, he needed a distraction.
     Rising from his seat, he crossed the room to the Computer
Control Panel, and plugged his left wrist appendage in.
     +Computer.+ he sent to the machine, +Estimated time of
arrival, U.S.S. _Enterprise_.+
     "Twelve hours, forty-five minutes." the Computer piped aloud,
unnecessarily.
     +Upon arrival of U.S.S. _Enterprise_ send alert to Holodeck
seventeen. End of line.+
     He then broke the contact.
     Travelling to Holodeck seventeen, Borg number 889, 349, 246,
345, 001 thought of the program he had to run.
     For he understood that number 889, 349, 245, 345, 001 was
hardly an acceptable title for a fully-fledged Starfleet officer.
In order to interact among the Humans, he must have something they
all had, something they took for granted, and something which he
could only find by scanning the ancient files held within the
Starbase's Holodeck.
     A name.


From:  Lt. Maverint Slike

     Maverint sat in what he liked to call his "easy chair",
located beneath the "space"-light window in his living quarters. It
was a term he had picked up from a very early holographic record
his great-great grandfather had compiled for him to view on his
18th birthday. With that compilation, Mav had learned more about
the past than he could ever have learned in any educational center
in the galaxy... as far as Mav was concerned. And of the stories
Mav's great-great grandfather had left him that were
intermixed loosely with important historical occurances,
Maverint's favorite was "The Easy Chair". His great-great
grandfather always slipped in the fact that no matter what ever
happened, how crazy life became, it would all disappear when he
slumped down into his comfortable old chair.
     Reflecting on that for a moment, Mav put down his tac-board
with which he had been calculating possible derivatives that could
increase the effect of the tractor beam. Being a Lieutenant
qualified him to work more with his brains than his hands, and
sometimes that just got to Mav.
     "A desk job" Mav thought and laughed softly to himself,
recalling another old saying his grandfather used. His eyes drifted
across the quarters, very dimly lit as per Mav's preference. Murals
and sculptures adorned the room, just as it seemed they did in
every other set of lodgings on the ship he had been in.
     "Just like everyone else..." Mav sighed. Then his eye caught
her silhouette in the more brightly lit doorway leading to the
bedroom. "And then again..." he added.
     Kate walked over to him, padding across the floor in her bare
feet, having just stole a nap between shifts and the adoring arms
of her husband of a scant two months. She had come in exhausted and
dropped listlessly into Mav's lap as he sat in his chair working.
After quicky drifting off, Mav settled her into their bed and
resumed his work. Now she padded towards him, her eyes bright and
sparkling from the rest. Without a word between them, she took hold
of him by the collar, pulled him up and kissed him deeply.
     "I forgot to say 'Honey, I'm home' when I came back, didn't
I?" Kate said after pulling back into Mav's encompassing arms.
     "I forgive you..." he replied smiling, then kissed her again.
They both slumped gently down into the easy chair. "We were in the
middle of something when you got called in, remember?" Maverint
smirked.
     "Yes, I do..." her voice trailed off, brushing her cheek
against Mav's, breathing lightly into Mav's ear.
     Suddenly the attention blip sounded and a voice passed through
the air to Mav and Kate seated rather awkwardly in the chair. Mav
straightened up in alarm, as did Kate, and he gave a reply for the
voice to go ahead.
     "This is Commander Jacqueline Picard, Lt. Slike." A slight
chill ran down Mav's spine. "I'm sorry I couldn't meet with you in
person, but my duties have kept me occupied other than a few
moments."
     "I understand." Mav replies calmly.
     "Your services have come highly recommended for the CON
position on the bridge and, as of now, are immediately needed.
Will you accept this new assignment?"
     "Yes, sir!" Mav responded quickly.
     "Understood, Lieutenant," the voice replied.  "You are due for
duty in 20 minutes. Picard out."
     Kate hugged Maverint tightly, herself overjoyed at the turn of
events. "My man at the helm..." she purred.

      Maverint walked calmly onto the bridge, giving it only a
quick glance. He knew his duty, having served at the CON of the his
old assignment aboard a Sovereign Class Battlecruiser for the
better part of three years. He excused the ensign from the CON and
sat down.
      "Good to have you on the team." a voice said behind him from
one of the command chairs.
      Turning around in his chair, Mav faced Jack. "Thank you, sir."
They exchanged smiles, then Mav turned back to the CON.


From:  Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard

     Jack stood by the viewport in her quarters, staring out into
space.  She wanted to look at the stars, but her eyes refused to
obey; they kept flickering back to her own ghostly reflection in
the port's glassy surface.
     Guinan was right:  Jack was the image of her mother.  The soft
red-gold hair, the fine features, all were Beverly's.  All except
for those piercing, ice-blue eyes, the eyes everyone who had known
Jean-Luc Picard recognized at once.
     There was a good deal more of her father's mettle in Jack than
her delicate beauty suggested.  Ordinarily her voice was soft, but
it cracked out like thunder when her temper got the better of her;
she could turn heads on the other side of Ten-Forward with that
voice, or startle even an admiral into silence.  She rarely used
it, however.  One of the things that had ensured her meteoric rise
through the ranks of Starfleet was a cool head and an iron will.
And those were things she owed to both her parents.
     Right now Jack was exceedingly tired, though her self-control
was rigid enough that the only visible mark of that weariness was
the pale blue circles beneath her eyes.  She hadn't been sleeping
well of late.  A lot of responsibility, a lot of pressure, maybe a
bit of loneliness mixed in with it as well...
     "All right," she said to her own reflection, "a lot of
loneliness."
     She had made many friends on the Copernicus, but had left them
all when she signed on to the _Enterprise_.  She didn't regret the
decision in the least:  what could be more exciting than to be
First Officer of the flagship of the Federation?  But still, it
hadn't been easy.  Gabriele was a good deal easier to get along
with than Jack had dreamed her new Captain could be, but they
weren't fast friends--at least, not yet.  And of course, there
was Barnabas, who used to be a good friend, but the pain of what
had happened to him had driven a wedge between them.  Every time he
saw her, he was bound to remember what his life had been like
before the accident.  She could hardly blame him for avoiding her.
She only hoped, for his sake, that soon he would find somebody--
anybody--to talk to.
     Jack pondered whether she felt like going down to Ten-Forward,
or perhaps going for a horseback ride on the Holodeck.  She didn't
really feel like doing either.  She could, however, take a look at
those applications Gabriele had given her.  Crossing the room to
her console, she slid the crystal into its slot and sat down, her
eyes narrowing as the holographic image of a male Borg coalesced in
the air above her.  The computer's dispassionate voice began,
"Name:  Borg number 889, 349, 246, 345, 001.  Graduated from
Starfleet, Stardate 59712.3.  Rank:  Lieutenant.
Qualifications..."
     Jack listened to the entire file and found herself both
surprised and impressed.  Of course, she had heard about this
Borg's defection and his subsequent application for Starfleet:
both had made headlines when they happened a few years back.  It
had been totally unprecedented on the part of Starfleet to accept
into the Academy a member of a race still at war with the
Federation, but he had passed all of the tests with top marks, and
both the psychological profiles and the data the Borg had allowed
them to download from his mental coprocessor had checked out so
cleanly there seemed no reason whatsoever to reject him.  Still,
Gabriele had said that she'd been warned against accepting him...
were those warnings born of foresight, or merely prejudice?  After
viewing the file, Jack still wasn't sure.  But there were some
pretty good testimonials appended to the file from a number of
officers and crew at the Borg's previous posting, Starbase 168--
including a brief word in his favor from Captain Solok, who Jack
knew from experience to be a canny judge of character and a hard
man to impress.
     The next file was no less interesting.  This was the Vulcan
female who'd applied for Counsellor--T'Pryn was her name.  She'd
been bonded once, but her husband had died shortly afterward in the
destruction of the mining colony on Eridani V.  After that, she'd
entered the Academy.  The rest of the file was nothing short of
riveting.  As with the Borg, T'Pryn's record was exemplary, her
psychological profile flawless.  Appended to the file was a clip of
T'Pryn expertly counselling a distraught cadet.  Jack was intrigued
-- no, more than intrigued, she was convinced.  She could certainly
understand why, given the unusual nature of the "experiment" T'Pryn
described in the file, so many of her fellow Vulcans would be
alarmed at the prospect of her remaining in Starfleet.  But was
that cause not to accept such a spectacularly qualified candidate?
Not to Jack, and she suspected not to Gabriele either.
     The third file was an application for an exchange, not a
permanent position.  A Romulan.  She and Gabriele would have to do
some serious talking about that one, but again, the record looked
good.  Jack leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, fingers
massaging her temples to work out the tension.  Well, she'd done
her duty; now she might be able to bring herself to relax.
Yawning, she got up from the chair and headed for her bedroom.


From:  Centurion Salek

     Salek was fuming. He was in his quarters on board the Amaloch.
He had just received news, via subspace, that the Praetor had
chosen him to be the exchange officer between the Romulan Empire
and the Federation.
     _I'm sure the enmity between our families had absolutely
nothing to do with your decision, mighty Praetor,_ he thought. There
had long been harsh feelings, and not a few deaths, between the
Praetor's family and that of Salek's. _This is just his way of
getting rid of me. Probably hoping someone in Starfleet will take me
out for him._  Salek re-read the orders:

  To: Centurion Salek, serving on the Amaloch.
From: Romulan High Command, Praetor's Section

     Congratulations, Centurion Salek! Due to the history of your
     loyal service to the Romulan race, as well as your exemplary
     performances aboard the Amaloch, you have been selected as an
     exchange officer. The Federation will be sending your
     replacement within 3 Myriaps. You will be expected to leave
     immediately upon his arrival, to rendezvous with the
     Federation Starship _Enterprise_, NCC-1701-F, where you will
     serve under Captain Lestat.

     You will be required to fill out a Starfleet transfer request,
     which must first be approved by your new Captain. It has been
     enclosed here. Fill it out and transmit it with all due haste.
     I am positive you will be accepted.

                    Division Of Military Transfers
                     Praetor's Section
                      Romulas

     The order was signed by the Praetor himself.
     Salek was a loyal Romulan; loyal to Romulans, not to the
Praetor. In secret he despised the fat man who dared to use the
title, but not assume the responsibilities.
     _However, I will go,_ he had thought. He filled out the
application, and transmitted.  He was now waiting for the reply,
hoping.  Whether he was hoping for acceptance or a rejection, he was
not sure.
     He allowed himself a small smile. _At least it's the
_Enterprise_. He could have ordered me onto a garbage-scow, instead of
the Flagship of the Federation._
     His communicator signaled. "Centurion Salek. We have arrived in
Federation space for the peace talks.  Please report to the bridge."
     Salek stood, and walked out of his quarters, leaving all
thoughts of the Praetor behind him.


From:  Dr. James N'Dok

     "Dr. N'Dok to Cmdr. Picard!"
     "Picard here. What's up, James?"
     "Commander. I have some news for you..."
     "Go ahead, Doctor."
     "Well, it's Starfleet regulation for ALL bridge officers to
undergo a complete physical. I just called to confirm. You're due
first, then the Captain. Since you seem to be getting along with
her better than I, could you--"
     "Sure. But James, The Captain doesn't bite."
     "Oh, I know... But she's, uh, well, different."
     Jack dismissed the matter. "Fine James, I'll do it this once.
When do you want me to report for the medical examination?"
     "ASAP, Commander. I have to do a physical on you, the Captain,
Barnabas, and any new personnel coming on board. Which reminds
me... What's this about a Borg Security Officer?"
     "Heard through the grape vine, eh? You are correct. But I
can't give any other information. I can't give the C.M.O access to
Starfleet records until the transfer of duty of completed."
     "Understood, Commander. - N'Dok out"
     Jack pondered this for a moment. How could she have forgotten
a simple medical examination?


From:  Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard

     At 1400 hours Jack stood in Sick Bay, tapping her foot
impatiently as James circled her, the medicorder humming in his
hand.  She was glad, at least, that in the 24th century a complete
physical took only a moment, and unlike the examinations of bygone
days, did not require any embarrassing removal of one's clothes.
Jack knew James a bit too well to be comfortable with that idea--
mind you, being examined by a total stranger under those conditions
would be no picnic either.  Three cheers for modern technology.
     "Well," said James as he consulted the reading on the
medicorder, "You're in top physical condition--except you're
stressed out, which is no good.  You're taking on too much, Jack,
or taking yourself too seriously, or something.  You need to relax
more when you're off-duty, get your mind off your work."
     Jack was silent.
     "And get more sleep," James said firmly.  "Gods, girl, didn't
your mother bring you up right?  If you don't take care of yourself
you'll be no good for anything, least of all commanding a starship.
Captain Lestat's results were almost as bad as yours.  Loosen up a
little, will you?  Both of you."  He turned away and picked up a
skinjector from a nearby table.  "If you find yourself getting too
tense, take this.  It'll relax your muscles and allow you to sleep
better."  He pressed the little device into her hand.  "Now shoo.
I've got Barnabas coming in soon."
     Nobody else on board would have dared to say "shoo" to the
First Officer, but within the confines of sick bay James was in
command, and even the Captain was not immune to his chidings.  For
all his boyish exuberance, James could be a real mother hen
sometimes... Jack stifled a smile as she left the room and headed
back to her duties on the bridge.


From:  Lt. Nikctalos D'pyrann

     "_Enterprise_, this is Starbase 168. One to beam up from
transporter room seven."
     "Acknowledged, Starbase 168. Transporting now. Nicholson out."
     Ensign Nicholson activated the transporter, yawning quietly to
herself. It had been a quiet day, despite the _Enterprise_'s docking
at Starbase 168, which was commonly seen as one of the more
esoteric places to be, due to its host of rather unusual Starfleet
officers.  Her yawn stuck in her throat when she saw the form of
the Borg materialize on the transporter pad.
     She had managed to stop her hand from instantly grabbing her
phaser and firing by only millimeters. Images raced through her
mind, of the stories about the _Enterprise_'s first encounters with
the Borg, twenty-some odd years ago, of how they were supposedly
indestructible, that if you didn't get them right away, they'd get
you. And then she remembered the briefing that the T.C. had given
her, about beaming up some rather unusual candidates, including a
Borg.
     Of course, she thought, I'm being an idiot.
     "Commander Picard," Nicholson called, "I think you had better
come down to transporter room three."
    "Is there a problem?" came Jack's reply.
    "One of the candidates has arrived."
    "On my way!"
     Nikctalos D'pyrann looked down at the Ensign who was currently
looking awkwardly at him, her hand hovering near her phaser
holster.
     Regulations stated that he was not allowed to enter the ship
until given express permission to do so, and so he stood there,
waiting motionless for the Commander to arrive.

     Commander Jacqueline Picard strode down the corridor towards
Transporter room three. She had been steadying herself for this
moment, when she must actually face one of the most terrifying
races ever encountered by the Federation. She entered the
Transporter room.
     "Oh my -" she said upon seeing Nikctalos. Even though she had
prepared, the sight of the hulking, mechanical monstrosity took her
aback somewhat.
     Recomposing herself, she stepped forward.
     Nikctalos saw the Commander enter the room. Putting himself
into the 'at-ease' stance, he said.
     "Lieutenant Borg number 889, 349, 246, 345, 001 reporting.
Request permission to come aboard. Request permission to begin
duties as Chief of Security of Starship NCC-1701-F, U.S.S.
_Enterprise_. Request official recognition of name change from Borg
number 889, 349, 236, 345, 001 to Nikctalos D'pyrann."
     Nikctalos fell silent once again, waiting for the Commander to
answer.


From:  Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard

     Jack gave herself a mental slap.  _Idiot!_ she thought.
_You're the First Officer of the _Enterprise_, not an addle-brained
cadet._  She forced her head up and met the Borg's dead eyes with
her own defiantly blue ones.  "Welcome to the _Enterprise_," she said
crisply.  "The starbase advised us of your wish to change your
name.  You may consider your choice officially approved, Lieutenant
D'pyrann.  I believe the Captain would like to see you in her ready
room before you are assigned to duty:  will you follow me?"
     She turned unhesitatingly to leave, and saw out of the corner
of her eye the Borg clanking down off of the transporter pad.  For
all the heavy-looking hardware, he moved fluidly and with
surprising speed.  But then, he would have to, to be able to apply
for the Security post.  He'd have to be downright deadly...
     Jack put that thought firmly out of her mind and led Nikctalos
out of the Transporter Room, down the corridor and into the
turbolift.  He followed her silently, his footsteps making no more
noise on the carpeted floor than the paws of some great metal cat.
The only sound was a soft sighing of compressed air from the joints
of his technologically-enhanced limbs, and the almost inaudible
high-pitched whine-purr-click as his internal processor assimilated
sensory data.
     Jack had made a close enough study of the Borg's file to know
these things about him--and more.  She was almost sure she'd
never have to use most of that knowledge, and she certainly didn't
want to use it.  But it was important for her to know that should
anything go wrong, there was at least one person on the _Enterprise_
who knew how to kill Nikctalos D'pyrann.
     The turbolift doors closed with a hiss.  She was alone with
the Borg.  "Bridge," she said curtly, and the elevator buzzed its
way upward.  Nikctalos remained silent, staring at the flashing red
light on the wall.
     _He must know how to relate to humans by now,_ Jack thought.
_He's probably just nervous, a bit tongue-tied.  I know I would
be._  Still, it was hard to think of a Borg being nervous, even
though she knew it was possible.  Despite their humanoid
appearance, the Borg were so...mechanical.  One soon stopped
thinking of their human aspects at all and simply thought about
machines.  She'd have to unlearn that to work with this thing--
_no, this man,_ she corrected herself firmly.
     The turbolift door opened; they stepped out onto the bridge.
"The Captain's ready room is to your left," said Jack.  "I must
attend to my other duties."
     The Borg inclined his head to her.  "Thank you, Commander," he
said.  Jack gave him a smile that was a little thinner than she'd
meant it to be, and walked down the ramp to her chair.  Barnabas,
seated at the Ops station, gave her a curious look as she sat down,
then turned his silver eyes to the Borg, who was standing in front
of the Ready Room door, motionless.
     "Enter," said Gabriele's voice from beyond the door.
Nikctalos stepped forward and vanished.
     "Shouldn't somebody else be in there?" asked Barnabas quietly.
     Jack shook her head.  "He's been through Starfleet, Mr. Cole.
And unless the Captain decides otherwise... he's about to become
our new Chief of Security."


From:  Lt. Nikctalos D'pyrann

     At the sound of the Captains voice, Nikctalos entered the
room.  It was a nice, well furnished room, as would befit a Captain
of Starfleet's flagship. Decorated in soft greys and working
blacks, the room blended with its furniture to give the impression
of a friendly, easy to work in atmosphere, while at the same time
commanding the respect deserved.
     Of course, all of this was lost on Nikctalos. He stood
directly in front of the Captain's desk, his legs slightly apart,
and his hands behind his lower back. The only sound currently was
the slight hiss of his respirator, a largely unnecessary device,
but he employed it so the Humans around him would feel more
comfortable.
     The Captain looked up from her holo-screen.  "Ah," she said,
"Lieutenant D'pyrann, I presume."
     Nikctalos shifted his gaze slightly to take her features in.
She was pretty, by human standards, and fairly young, not at all
beyond what most Humans knew as the mating stage.
     "Acknowledged." he replyed, "Lieutenant Nikctalos D'pyrann
reporting for duty after having received assignment orders from
Starfleet command at Starbase 168. Request permission to begin
duties as Chief of Security for NCC-1701-F U.S.S. _Enterprise_."
     He waited, as regulations clearly stated he must, for an
answer.


From:  Lt. Cmdr. Barnabas Cole

     Realizing that he was no average person himself, Barnabas
tried to rationalize the Borg's presence on the _Enterprise_ away.
It had been his experience that the race caused nothing but
problems.  Having a single Borg on the ship was, in his opinion,
just as bad as having a few thousand whirring cyborgs wandering
around the ship.
     At least, he thought, Jack must have inside information on
this creature.  For one, she's not stupid enough to let him on the
ship if she didn't have an ace hidden somewhere, that was in her
genes.  Barnabas knew what most Starfleet officers knew about the
Borg, which wasn't much, and so he made a mental note to find Jack
later when they were alone and question her.
     As Science Officer he would have to work closely with this
"Nikctalos".  His cold features hid the inner repulsion he felt at
trying to work with this servomechanically animated shell.  Perhaps
he might be an excellent resource, though; Starfleet's new
biological "lung" project might need all the help it could get.


From:  Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard

     "Number One, report to my Ready Room."
     Gabriele's voice echoed across the bridge.  Jack exchanged
glances with Barnabas, then rose from the command chair and headed
for the door as the silver-skinned Lieutenant moved to take her
place.
     "You called, Captain?" said Jack as she entered the Ready
Room.  Gabriele was seated at her desk, with Nikctalos standing
directly in front of her.  Not a muscle on the Borg's tall frame
moved; he stared straight ahead.
     "Yes, Number One," said Gabriele.  "I would like to have your
input.  You said that you had extensively reviewed the file of
Lieutenant D'Pyrann?"
     "Yes, I have," said Jack.
     "And to what conclusion did you come afterward?"
     "I could see no reason why he should not be accepted.  With
certain necessary restrictions, of course."
     "Of course."  Gabriele smiled slightly.  "Yes, I too have made
a thorough examination of the file and feel that while this is
an...unusual candidate, to say the least, his qualifications are
impeccable and his record exemplary.  I wished only to be certain
that you were comfortable with the decision, Commander, as it is
important that a Captain and her First Officer be in total
agreement, especially as far as the bridge crew is concerned.  And
since you will be leading the away teams, and the Lieutenant will
almost without exception accompany you on such missions, it is
especially important that you have no reservations.  Lieutenant
D'Pyrann--" the Borg's head turned slightly to regard the Captain,
and his dead eyes focused at the sound of his name-- "it is my
pleasure to appoint you to the position of Chief of Security of the
U.S.S. _Enterprise_, to take effect immediately.  You will relieve
acting Chief of Security Lieutenant Mordon, who will become your
second-in-command."
     "Thank you, Captain Lestat," said Nikctalos.  "I will carry
out your orders as stated."
     "Dismissed," said Gabriele, and the Borg inclined his head to
her before turning and moving silently out the door.
     When he was gone the Captain let out a long sigh of relief.
"Quite the interesting one, isn't he?" she said to Jack, who
smiled.
     "I know exactly what you mean," she replied.  "But he is
certainly more...approachable than the other Borg I have
fortunately not yet been privileged to meet."
     "You know more about the Borg than most," pointed out
Gabriele.  "After all--"
     "I know," said Jack.  "I grew up with somebody who was part
Borg to the end of his days.  Not what one would call a stable
childhood."  She smiled a little.  "But I never saw that side of my
father, and I have hope that Lieutenant D'Pyrann may yet discover
the human side of himself."
     "As have I," agreed Gabriele.  "Now.  The other thing I wanted
to see you about was this application for exchange from the
Romulans.  They would like to send us one Centurion Salek, who
would act, in a limited capacity of course, as our Tactical officer
for a period of two years."
     "Yes, I know.  I examined his file as well."
     "Again, have you any reservations?  If we accept him, we'll
need to appoint a Second to keep an eye on him, of course."
     "Of course.  But apart from that, no, I see no problem.  He
appears to be a responsible and well-trained candidate, and his
psychological profile is unusually promising for a Romulan."
     "Yes."  Gabriele pondered this.  "It makes me wonder why
they'd let him go."
     "You mean, because he's valuable to them?" asked Jack.
     "No," murmured Gabriele thoughtfully, "because as far as the
Romulans are concerned, he's dangerous..."


From:  Lt. Nikctalos D'Pyrann

     Nikctalos left the Captain's ready room, his respirator
trying, and failing miserably, to cope with the emotion of 'bated
breath'.  For that was how he felt at that moment, excited.  He had
been accepted as the _Enterprise_'s CoS, and what's more, his enhanced
hearing had allowed him to catch part of the Commander's
conversation, they thought he may be able to become more human!
     The idea had him doing cartwheels, mentally. To think that he
could finally express himself, after all of these years of being
bottled up! It was exhilarating.
     Of course, his pasty-white, inexpressive face gave none of
this away as he walked across the bridge to his station.
     Arriving at the comm-port, Nikctalos looked straight at the
young black man who was currently standing in front of him.
     "Lieutenant Mordon." he said, "I am Lieutenant Nikctalos
D'pyrann. By order of Starfleet Command, I hereby take on the
position of Chief of Security for the starship NCC-1701-F U.S.S.
_Enterprise_. You are hereby appointed Second in Command of Security.
You are dismissed until 17:50 hours."
     Nikctalos turned away, towards the computer holo-screens,
leaving one slightly dazed Lt. Mordon in his wake, and jacked into
the computer.
     He began by familiarizing himself with the computer system of
the _Enterprise_. Most people thought all computers in Starfleet were
alike. Not so, every computer had it's own unique programs and
system operations, thus, every computer was a brand new world to
explore.
     In a matter of moments, he had memorized all of the pathways
within the computer system. If something went wrong with the warp-
drive system in engineering, or if a food-slot went down in an
ensign's quarters, he would know, as long as he was jacked in. He
could access any function of the computer almost instantly, and
could just as quickly get a status report on any deck of the ship.
    Satisfied that he knew the _Enterprise_ like he knew his own
neural-nets, Nikctalos ended his work by getting a report from all
decks and stations, each signifying that everything was in perfect
working order. He then jacked out, and stood at the ready, waiting
for the Captain and Commander to come out and supply further
orders.

<continued next chapter>