A Little Family Secret

Lieutenant Commander Kevin Jordan sat atop his perch on the rock outcropping and surveyed the scene before him. Muselpheim IV was as lifeless and as hellish as any planet he’d ever seen. The sky was cloudy and gray, and it was hard to tell where the gray lava fields met the sky. And the place stank of sulfur, but not to the point where they would’ve had to wear protective gear.

There was a drizzle, and Jordan looked at his equipment. Sensors had already told him that it was as acid a rain as one could find on a class M planet. He guessed that they had maybe an hour’s more use before their equipment would be completely ruined.

It had taken a lot of wrangling to convince the captain to allow a landing party to beam down planet. Ostensibly, this was the most volcanically active class M planet ever discovered. The volcano designated Thor’s Hammer was a dome volcano with four times the surface area of Mons Olympus on Mars, and here Jordan’s team was, at the base of its northern side, conducting a deep core analysis of the magma pool which kept the volcano active.

The tall, pasty chief science officer checked the readings again, and glanced up at the volcano, a steady stream of gas rising from the caldera miles away from their present location, and smiled in satisfaction. Vulcanology had always been one of his favorite studies, and the chance to study a find of this magnitude was one of the reasons he’d joined Starfleet in the first place. This was a young planet, and the opportunity to investigate a volcano such as this was one not to be missed. Earth itself had once been a planet such as this, as had Vulcan, Tellar and Mars.

He glanced at Lieutenant LeeAnn Feltman. She had been the most outspoken opponent to his plan to survey the dome. Now, she stood six meters away, operating the phaser drill. At her side, Geological Technician David Jones was using his tricorder to monitor the drill status. At her other side, Ensign Laurie Morgan was in charge of sensor analysis.

Jordan was pleased. As Chief Science Officer of the U.S.S. Excelsior, he had lobbied, berated, begged Hikaru Sulu for this opportunity. Assistant Chief Science Officer Feltman had been opposed, as she always was to his plans, but the captain finally relented and authorized the landing party. Jordan snorted, and Feltman’s head turned from her task, raising a critical eyebrow. He ignored her, and she turned back to her work. Of course, Feltman had insisted she be a part of the mission once the captain had approved it.

"Commander, I think we’ve got a problem," came that annoying soft-spoken Southern drawl of hers.

"What now?" he grumbled and stepped forward.

It was the last thing any of them ever said as an undetected pocket of superheated kraylon gas spewed out of the borehole and enveloped the three science officers next to the drill. He winced as his team grabbed their chests and collapsed, dying almost immediately as the gas burned through skin and protective clothing, incinerating their lungs.

As the gas rushed toward him, Jordan braced himself for what would no doubt be a brief moment of agony before he died. His last coherent thought was, Oh, great, now I’ve got to face an eternity of her gloating about being right...

*****

Hikaru Sulu sat casually in the center seat of the U.S.S. Excelsior, relaxing with a cup of hot tea. It had been a difficult three weeks since leaving the Kornephoros system. He’d lost five of his crew there, and that was eating at him. And he wouldn’t know for three decades whether or not he’d been able to defeat Q’xl%. To top matters off, they’d moved on to their next assignment: geological survey of the class M planet in the Muselpheim system. Since their arrival two weeks ago, he’d been repeatedly berated by his chief science officer to permit an excursion to the planet’s surface, despite the inherent risks in such a visit. He’d finally consented, despite the objections of the assistant chief science officer.

Suddenly, the Vulcan science officer, Ensign Tuvok, turned from his station at Science One. "Captain, telemetry from the landing party has been lost."

Sulu quickly set his cup down on the pedestal before him and strode to the main science station. "Report."

"I was monitoring their data transmission and their activities. All telemetry ceased abruptly thirty-two seconds ago. I am completing an intensive lifeform scan of the area, and can detect no lifeforms present." The Vulcan turned to his captain. "Sir, the landing party appears to have been—"

"My God!" He spun to the communications bay across the deck. "Janice, try to raise them. Maybe we’re having a problem with our sensors!"

"I’ve been trying to raise them, Captain. No response."

"Bridge to Sickbay!" he called to the bridge’s comlink. "Have a medical team standing by in Transporter Room One. We have an emergency on the planet’s surface, Doctor Cord."

"We’ll be there in forty-five seconds, Skipper. Cord out."

"Transporter Room One, this is the captain. There’s an emergency on the planet’s surface. Try to lock on to the landing party’s communicators and beam them aboard."

"Captain, I recommend the use of a maximum level containment field," suggested Tuvok.

"Transporter Room, did you get that?"

"Aye, sir. Maximum level containment field in place. Beaming them aboard now," Chief Hamilton replied.

Sulu stepped into the turbolift adjacent Science One. "Commander Rand, you have the conn," he called. "Transporter Room One." The doors closed, but not before everyone on the bridge heard him snap, "Damn!"

*****

Sulu strode into Transporter Room One as Doctor Ariel Cord stood in a corner, visibly shaken by what she’d seen. The captain watched as Assistant Chief Medical Officer Dars Viger pulled up the sheet over a body on a stretcher. "What happened?" the captain demanded, looking at three other stretchers, each with a sheet-covered body on them. There was a rancid smell in the air, and Sulu struggled not to retch.

Cord seemed almost too stunned to answer, and Sulu was surprised. He’d seen Ariel handle gruesome scenes like this without flinching an eye. But she stood next to him, visibly trembling albeit slightly.

"Massive burn trauma, Captain." Viger shook his head, running his feinberger over the body. "I’m detecting Kraylon gas in what’s left of their lungs. It’s virtually undetectable when superheated. It killed them instantly."

"My God... All four of them...gone..." said Sulu. "What have I done..."

Cord suddenly regained much of her self-control and composure. "Now, don’t go blaming yourself, Hikaru. Jordan and his team knew the risks involved with this sort of excursion to a world like this. Hell, this is the very thing that Feltman herself had cautioned against."

"That’s what so frustrating, Ariel. I should have listened to her."

"She should’ve listened to herself," the chief medical gestured at the second gurney with a covered body. "But she didn’t, and now she’s dead." She turned to Doctor Viger and the three med techs that had accompanied her. "Let’s get them to Sickbay. I want all four autopsied, Dars. I’d like you to handle it."

The Bolian doctor cocked his head at an angle, his species’ equivalent of a Vulcan’s raised eyebrow. "As you wish, Ariel."

Sulu was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the exchange.

*****

Sulu was not a patient man. Oh, he had a great act, but that’s all it was. Patience was expected of him, because he was the captain, because he was middle-aged, and maybe even because he was Oriental. But patience was a virtue he was sorely lacking. As far as he was concerned, waiting sucked.

The doors to the examination room slid open, and his chief and assistant chief medical officers walked out, donned in the red surgical gowns that Starfleet Medical had recently adopted.

Viger removed his mask and hood. "Kraylon gas..."

Cord removed hers and snorted softly. "The very thing LeeAnn had warned about during the briefing..."

Sulu crossed his arms and looked down. "I cannot believe that I allowed this landing party to beam down to an active dome volcano."

Viger tilted his head and looked at him with concern. "Captain, you’re going to be in trouble on this one, I fear."

Sulu considered taking the Bolian’s head off, but he knew that he was just his assistant chief medical officer’s nature. Instead, the captain nodded his head. Rubbing the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger, he closed his eyes tightly. "That’s a mild exaggeration, Doctor. There might a board of inquiry, but I think that’s highly unlikely. ‘Risk is our business.’"

Ariel Cord looked at him. "Sulu—?"

The captain smiled a falsely-reassuring smile. "Everything will be fine, Ariel."

"Where you off to, Skipper?" Cord called for him.

He turned back around, and unsnapped his jacket strap. "To bed. It’s late. You coming?" he asked her. They’d been lovers for five years now, and while they maintained separate quarters, when off-duty, she could be found in his.

She shook her head softly. "No, I’ve got too many reports to work on."

He shrugged and left without another word.

*****

Hikaru Sulu was a lonely man. He leaned back in his lounger, looking out the window of his cabin at the hellish planet below the Excelsior, as he reflected on his lot in life.

He had a lover, Ariel Cord, the likes of which the galaxy had rarely seen. He had command of a starship, the Excelsior, the likes of which the Federation could rarely afford. He had a successful career, and was becoming one of the most highly regarded starship captains in Starfleet.

But for all his successes, Sulu considered himself a failure.

Not that he’d let anyone else know that, of course.

He had a lover, but he had lost the love of his life, Janet Rachelson, during the Kelvan War, and that was a loss he wasn’t sure he could ever recover from. Ariel had done her best, of course, to make him feel loved, but there were nights that he sat in this lounger as he did now, staring at the stars as they streamed by, and wondered where his life might be now had Janet been able to be a part of it.

He had command of the Excelsior, but there were times that he wished he hadn’t ever left his post as the helm officer of the Enterprise. There were times that he longed for the helm, for the lack of responsibility, for the simple notion that all he had to do was steer the ship the way its captain wanted. Now and then, during crisis situations, he found himself hanging on to the Excelsior’s helm, offering Lieutenant Commander Lojur unneeded—and unwanted—advice. A vision of the energy wave from the explosion of Praxis leapt into his mind, and he could hear himself screaming "Turn her into the wave!" at Lojur from beneath the helm console.

He was a highly regarded ship captain, but he had no friends, no trusted advisors, no confidantes aboard the Excelsior. The recent joint mission with the Enterprise at Alpha Tucanae IV had driven that home to him. He had seen that Captain Chekov had already established a good working rapport with Uhura and Saavik. They were already a team, and, as such, were more than capable of performing the impossible demands Starfleet makes on all its captains, officers and crews. He considered his own situation. He simply had not been able to develop that kind of relationship with his command staff. He was sole master of the Excelsior, and frankly, he didn’t want their advice unless he asked for it first.

Now, there were four science officers dead. He had made his decision by consulting only Chief Science Officer Jordan and Assistant Chief Science Officer Feltman, both of whom lay in Sickbay with sheets over their horribly burned forms. Jordan had argued about the importance of the mission; Feltman had warned them of the dangers; and Sulu had made the decision that had cost both of them their lives.

Billy Wilder once said that "Hindsight is always twenty-twenty."

If he had to make his decision all over again, he would have let Feltman’s words influence him the most.

"Damn," he muttered, thinking, There I go again. Second guessing myself. Why is it I always rely on myself rather than my command staff? I should’ve asked Janice, Boris and Ariel for their input, too. But I didn’t. "I am a failure," he said to the empty confines of his cabin.

He stood, walked to his food server. He tapped in his personal code and said, "Hot sake."

The steaming pot and cups for two were delivered within twenty seconds. Alone, in the night, Hikaru Sulu drank until he was too drunk to go to bed.

"Commander?" came Ensign Tuvok’s rich voice. He was standing at her side. "I have the preliminary data from the surface." The Vulcan science officer was now the senior most science officer aboard the Excelsior.

"Preliminary data...oh, you mean the sensor logs from the landing party before they..."

"...before they were killed," he concluded for her. He regarded her stony expression with a tilted head and cocked an eyebrow. "Is something wrong, Commander?" he asked, handing her the report.

Janice Rand shook her head softly, and she sighed. "No, Ensign, nothing at all."

She watched as his attention returned to the Science One station. He seemed so self-assured, so naturally-gifted, she knew then who she would recommend as a replacement for the chief science officer’s position.

And then she wondered if Sulu would actually listen to her recommendation at all...

She glanced down at the report. According to Tuvok, the findings of the landing party were of significant scientific importance. Planetologists throughout the Federation would be clamoring for their own expeditions to Muselpheim IV, she decided. Well, at least some good came out of this. Not that it’ll be much consolation to the science team’s families or even to Sulu.

She looked at the time. 0912. This is not like the captain, she thought. On a hunch, she thumbed the ship’s intercom. "Bridge to Sickbay."

"Sickbay," came Ariel Cord’s tired voice.

"Is the captain down there, Doctor?"

"No, why?"

"He hasn’t reported to duty."

"I’ll go check out our...er, his quarters."

"You didn’t...go there last night?" No need to aggravate the doctor with the obvious fact that she and Sulu are lovers over an open comm channel, she thought.

"I was filling out the death reports on the landing party. It took all night." She paused. "I’ll go check on the captain. Sickbay out."

Rand looked around the bridge; a few furtive glances toward the center seat told her that everyone had noticed the captain’s absence. Not good, she decided. A few frowns came her way. Not good at all.

*****

"Hikaru! Wake up!"

Sulu raised his head up groggily. "Huh?"

Doctor Cord stood before him, a deep frown on her face.

He closed his eyes and yawned widely. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and yawned again. "Yes, what is it, Ariel?"

"You’ve overslept."

He glanced at the chronometer on his BellComm terminal. 0945. He was nearly two hours late for his shift.

"Damn!" He slung himself from his lounger and started for the door.

"No, sir," she said firmly as she placed herself between her captain and the door to his cabin. "Shower first. You stink like sake."

His face reddened slightly, and he stumbled toward the shower. He stripped off his jacket, tunic and pants, and stepped into the sonic shower.

Ariel Cord was worried. She hadn’t seen Sulu like this before. Ever. She slipped off her own uniform, set it out on the bed, and stepped into the shower with him. He was leaning with his head resting on the arm he had rested on the soap dish. She scooped up the soap and a sponge off the shower floor and began washing his back. He didn’t respond, verbally or physically. He was sobbing, softly.

"Hikaru?"

"Ariel, I’m—I’m sorry. I just can’t—"

Men! she thought as she snorted. "I’m not asking for sex, Captain. I want to know if you want to talk about your problem."

"You’ve been with me since I returned to the Cooper as its captain, Ariel. I lost four people yesterday, and five people last month. You know how hard the deaths of my crew hit me."

"I know that they hit you a lot harder since Janet Rachelson died."

He covered his eyes with his hand.

"Hikaru, I want you to get some help with this. Professional help. You know, we’ve got a ship’s psychologist aboard."

"I don’t need that kind of help, Ariel," Sulu snapped.

"As a matter of fact, you do."

Sulu pulled up his head with a start. "What?"

"You have never come to grips with Janet Rachelson’s death, nor have you forgiven yourself for Dmitri Valtane’s death. And, if I know you, you’re not going to forgive yourself for the deaths of this landing party."

He narrowed his eyes and snapped, "Get out."

"Not going to happen, my friend."

"Ariel, I don’t want to—"

"—you don’t want to face this right now," she interjected. "You couldn’t face it ten years ago when Janet Rachelson died in the Kelvan War. You couldn’t face it five years ago when I was nearly killed. You couldn’t face Dmitri Valtane’s death two years ago. You couldn’t face it two months ago when Jim Kirk died. You couldn’t face it last night after it took the lives of the Science team. You can’t face death, Hikaru, and it’s time you did."

"I’m not going to talk about this." He turned the shower off, and reached for a towel.

"You may have to, lover." She walked around and got right in his face. "I’ve voiced some concerns I have in my medical log." She moved even closer. "You’ve got no choice but to answer those questions or face a medical board of inquiry."

"I just can’t believe you’re doing this!"

"And I can’t believe I haven’t forced this issue until now."

"Then why now?"

"Your style of command has become so insular, so self-centered, that your crew is unwelcome to give input into any decision."

"I am the captain, you know, and I’ve had nearly a decade of experience in the center seat."

"I’ve been going over your record with the previous chief medical officer of the Cooper, Doctor K.C. Johnson."

"You spoke with Casey? How dare you!"

"Hikaru, you—"

"Get the hell out."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, ‘Get the hell out.’ Now."

She considered it for a second, then said, "Consider yourself relieved of duty, Captain, until further notice, pending the outcome of psychiatric evaluation, conducted by the ship’s psychologist. I’ll be taking the matter up with the first officer and Doctor Noel presently."

Sulu was beet red, but remained silent. It was clear to her that he was teetering on the edge of exploding at her.

She stepped out of the shower, and his voice stopped her. "Ariel..."

She would not turn. She could not turn. She did not turn.

She dressed and left without another word.

*****

Sulu entered the bridge at 1018 ship’s time. His eyes were still puffy, his complexion more jaundiced than usual. He took a deep breath, and strode forward as though there were nothing wrong. "Good morning everyone," he said in a forced ‘casual’ manner.

"Mornin’, Cap’n," and a few other similar sentiments echoed around the bridge as he took the center seat from Janice Rand.

"You’re late, Skipper," said Captain of Engineering Deneice Maliszewski from her station. She was never one to mince words with anyone, not even the captain of the Excelsior.

"Yeah, Mallie, I know," he said sheepishly. "Ship’s status, Commander Rand?"

"We’re in standard orbit above Muselpheim Four, sir. Doctors Cord and Viger have completed their autopsies, and the results are waiting on your desk in your ready room. Ensign Tuvok has completed his report on the findings from the science team’s data."

An ensign from engineering handed him a padd to sign off on. He studied the antimatter reserve report briefly and initialed it before handing the padd back to him. "Anything else, Commander?" he asked absently.

"Yes, sir. I’d like a word with you, when you can spare me a few minutes, sir."

He blinked twice and turned to look at Rand’s face. Her features were completely expressionless, and he considered the tone and phraseology of her request. "Very well, Commander. Meet me in my ready room in five minutes." As she strode away, he turned to Lieutenant Commander Lojur. "Helmsman, you have the conn."

"Yes, Captain," the Armenian helm officer responded.

Sulu exited the bridge through the port entry way, and walked down the short corridor to his ready room. He turned to the right, and walked through the doors at sat down at his desk. Sulu’s ready room reflected his chaotic impulses at collecting: an assortment of books, swords, plants, model starships, paintings, mounted coin collections, a few baseball cards, silk butterflies, sea shells from nearly a dozen worlds, and Arcturian sand sculptures.

He stepped to the food slot and thumbed in hot tea, crackers and peanut butter, a time-honored tradition for him whenever hung over. Sitting down with his tea and peanut butter crackers, he began reviewing the autopsies of the science department heads who died on the planet below. Superheated kraylon gas virtually cremated them on the spot. They died quickly, but in complete agony.

Sulu set down the peanut butter-covered cracker he was eating, and closed his eyes. Blinking them open, he cleaned off his desk, and looked expectantly toward his door. The five minutes were up.

The door chimed, and Sulu said, "Come in."

Commander Janice Rand walked in, her mouth tightly drawn, her eyes flashing with anger. "Permission to speak freely, Captain."

Sulu considered telling her ‘no,’ but that would only anger her further. "Have a seat, Janice. Tell me what’s on your mind."

"What happened to you, Hikaru? You used to be so happy-go-lucky, bouncing off the walls, with a new hobby every other day. And now..."

"Things change, Janice. We get older, we get more responsibilities. People die..." His voice caught.

"I am tired of this shit, Sulu. Every time we lose a crewman, you get drunk and fail to report to duty on time. I’ve been your executive officer for five years now, and it’s getting worse and worse. It’s going to stop now, once and for all."

The door chimed again. "Come," Sulu called.

Doctor Cord walked in, padd in hand.

"Now’s not a good time, Ariel," the captain began.

"Sorry, sir, but this matter requires your immediate attention, as well as that of Commander Rand. Pursuant to Starfleet Medical Regulations, Order Six, Section D, Paragraph Two: ‘The ship’s chief medical officer will require a full examination of any crewmember he has concerns about, including the captain.’ I am hereby relieving you of command pending a comprehensive psychological examination to be completed by the ship’s chief medical officer and an interview with the ship’s psychologist."

Rand looked at the ship’s physician with mouth agape as Sulu stood up.

"How...dare...you!" Sulu was stunned. "I...I...I cannot believe you’re making this official, Ariel."

"I told you this morning I was relieving you of command, Captain. You have developing emotional instability that must be addressed before you present a danger to yourself or this crew. You need help with this, and you need it now."

"Ariel," he pleaded.

Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes. "I have no choice," she said, shaking her head slowly. She turned to Rand. "Commander, I request that this be kept confidential unless circumstances warrant it be made public."

Sulu stood there, shaking in complete disbelief.

Rand addressed the ship’s intercom. "Rand to Lojur. Report to the captain’s ready room, please."

"On my way," came the reply.

Sulu looked at Rand. "Janice, please, reconsider this."

The executive officer looked apologetic but resolute. "I’m sorry, Captain. The chief medical officer has made her decision."

The door chimed, and Sulu didn’t answer. "Come," called Rand.

The bearded chief helm officer entered the room cautiously, trying to ascertain just what was going on. "I was summoned?"

"Commander, Doctor Cord has relieved Captain Sulu of duty pending a psychological exam."

Lojur looked at his captain, surprise on his face for the briefest of instances, then his usual stony look returned. "I see. Your orders, Commander Rand?" he asked her.

"The crew is not to be informed of this action."

Sulu, unwilling and perhaps unable to meet the eyes of his senior officers, took a deep breath. "Very well. I’ll be in my quarters until summoned." He took a pile of disks, scooped them up with a padd or two, and strode out the door.

After it closed, Rand turned on Cord. "Was this really necessary?" she snapped. "This could ruin his reputation aboard this ship and his career as a starship captain. How could you?"

"Because," Cord pointed at the door, "he needs help, and he won’t seek it out on his own. I’ve asked him, I’ve pleaded with him to get some help. It’s hard being the captain of a starship. It’s unbearable if you can’t face death."

"Neither could Jim Kirk," answered Rand. "He always struggled to find a way to beat death at its game."

"But when his crew died, he didn’t get falling down drunk and fail to report for duty on time."

"Is that what this is about?" asked Lojur, incredulous. "I’ve known a lot of starship commanders in my career, Doctor. Not all of them handle death with the kind of grace and dignity and temperament you think Captain Sulu should. Hell, more than half of them do get drunk, and—"

"You can’t tell me they fail to report—"

"Not all of the time, but sometimes, yeah, they don’t report to duty on time."

She stared at him.

"Maybe it’s you who has a problem with how he’s handling death," Lojur continued. "Maybe you want him to be one of those men who turn steely and cold when they’re hurt. Well, I got news for you, Doc. Sulu isn’t that kind of man. He’s a man of compassion, despite his stoic stature. He feels for those four people more than he would ever show."

Cord took umbrage at the remark. "Boris, that’s not fair. I’m not expecting him to turn into a Vulcan. Neither am I expecting him to break down and cry. I’m expecting him to stop taking each and every single death personally. This is deep space, and even in the twenty-third century, shit happens. People die."

"‘How we deal with death is as important as how we deal with life,’" quoted Rand.

"Precisely my point, Janice. He’s simply not dealing with death. I want him to realize that, that’s all."

The three officers faced each other wordlessly for a full three minutes. "All right, Ariel," Rand finally broke the silence. "We’ll play this one your way."

Cord sighed. "Thanks, Janice. I’m sorry to have sprung this on you like this." She blinked. "What were you doing in here anyway?"

Rand chuckled mirthlessly. "Chewing Sulu’s ass out."

The doctor pursed her lips in amusement. "Ooooo-kay."

Lojur asked the question no one wanted to hear: "What if the psych exam shows he’s not capable of command?"

"It won’t, Boris," Cord assured him. "He’s got a few problems, but they can be fixed with the right kind of help."

"And the ship’s psychologist is going to be the ‘right kind of help’?" Rand asked.

Cord nodded. "I hope so."

*****

Personal Log, Stardate 9509.9

First Officer Janice Rand recording

Pursuant to Starfleet Medical Regulations, and upon the recommendations I have received from both the chief medical officer and ship’s psychologist, I have temporarily relieved Captain Sulu from active duty. Rather than allow this to become a part of the ship’s official logs, I am opting to keep the matter under wraps for the time being. Chief Medical Officer Cord has raised some serious questions regarding his mental health. Those questions will be addressed by the ship’s psychologist, Doctor Helen Noel, in an afternoon session. It is my fervent hope that the captain will be judged mentally competent and of sound mental health. If not, I will have no choice but to make the matter official, and relieve him of duty.

Commander Janice Rand found herself in the center seat sooner than she would have liked. Right now, the captain was in Sickbay undergoing the usual battery of psych tests. She was glad for one thing: Ariel Cord had protected the captain. Other than Doctors Cord and Noel and herself, only the ship’s second officer, Lieutenant Commander Boris Lojur, knew anything. The rest of the crew was under the impression that their captain was taking some time off from his duties to catch up on his paperwork. And, to be honest with herself, he was doing just that.

Lojur glanced back at her from the helm. He didn’t like this, she knew. And she wasn’t sure she liked it either. But the captain did have a problem. She knew it. Cord knew it. Lojur knew it. Hell, the whole crew probably knew it.

Maybe this was a good idea after all.

She just hoped the ship’s psychologist was up to the task.

*****

As a ship’s psychologist, Helen Noel, Ph.D., saw an assortment of disorders on a regular basis.

Long-term deep space assignments had the unerring ability to separate the wheat from the chaff. Usually, her duties included counseling crewmembers on varying minor neuroses. Ensign Torrance Sledge was a top-notch astronomer, but he suffered from a mild form of claustrophobia. Not enough to hinder his work performance, of course, but enough to flare up and cause some anxiety now and then. Lieutenant Beth Black was an excellent chemist, but her abrasive bluntness had led to few friends and that had led to subtle, occasional notions of persecutions. Technician 2^nd Class Mark McCubbins was an excellent shuttlecraft mechanic with a tendency toward obsessive-compulsive hand-washing and always insisted his steak and hamburgers to be over-cooked, charred even. But none of the crewmembers she counseled represented a danger to themselves or their crewmates, and none of their neuroses hindered their efforts to fulfill the duties and responsibilities afforded to them by their position. But they needed counseling on managing their difficulties from time to time, and she was there for them.

Doctor Noel was also available for any crewmember who wanted counseling in personal matters, family matters, even sexual matters. She had been one of the first staff psychologists assigned permanent starship duty. In the past, Starfleet might have grounded crewmembers with mild neuroses, and that resulted in worsening the conditions, in general. But thirty years ago, Starfleet had begun to recognize the value of these individuals and had begun assigning psychologists and psychiatrists to the medical staff as a matter of course.

Now she sat in her chair as she listened intently to the quasi-neurotic ramblings of Ensign Jason Wheeler. As he described the persecution he was suffering under Captain of Engineering Deneice Maliszewski, she made her decision to transfer the ensign off the Excelsior, preferably to a starbase with a full psychology staff. Starbase 86 was within their patrol route, and it would no doubt be the best place for the ensign.

"...and I just can’t deal with it any longer, Doc."

"That’s all right, Jason. I think we can arrange it so you won’t have to. Have you ever considered a ground assignment?"

"No, not really. But I’d take the first one that was offered as long as Mali-shit-ski ain’t going to be there."

"I’ll speak with the captain immediately, pull a few strings with him, as it were."

"That’s great, Doc. I’m so glad you can help me out with this woman. She’s crazy, I tell you."

Noel nodded sympathetically. "I’ll handle it in a few minutes. I should have you a new assignment in a few days." She glanced at her wrist chrono. "Now get out of here, will you? I’ve got some real patients to treat."

"Yes, ma’am." And Ensign Jason Wheeler laughed and exited her office.

She wrote a few notes into her padd. The young engineer should have flunked every psyche evaluation he’d faced, but he hadn’t. He passed one yesterday with flying colors, in fact. But he was a rather neurotic young man suffering from a persecution complex that had never once manifested itself until he joined the Excelsior some weeks ago.

"Oh, well," she muttered to herself. "Time to do the right thing."

The right thing, she mused and sighed. It had been nearly thirty years since the dark incident that had nearly wrecked her career...

She had only recently been assigned to Leonard McCoy’s staff when the captain had requested the ship’s most knowledgeable officer with experience in penology during a landing party assignment to the penal colony Tantalus. Unfortunately, she had made a series of errors in judgment that had cost her dearly in terms of career advancement. She had actually used an experimental device on a subject, knowing full well that what she was doing was wrong. And in her heart, she knew that Adams’ neural neutralizer was unethical, as was programming false memories into her commanding officer. All she had done was follow his orders.

And that had been a mistake. One that she almost hadn’t survived, career-wise. McCoy had contacted the Federation Association of Psychologists as well as the Federation Medical Association. Both had recommended that she lose her license to practice psychology. Starfleet Medical had instigated court-martial proceedings against her. Only Captain James T. Kirk himself had saved her career by testifying on her behalf. She had simply been following his direct orders, he had argued. That mattered most to the three boards of inquiry.

But she was relieved of starship duty and assigned to Doctor Simon Van Gelder’s staff at the Tantalus Penal Colony. She’d spent nearly thirty years there, working with a wide variety of patients, ranging from Harry Mudd to Peter Kirk, helping them help themselves. Or at least trying to.

Today, though, she had been pegged by the Excelsior’s chief medical officer to serve as a grief counselor for the ship’s captain, Hikaru Sulu. She remembered him during her brief tour of duty aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise under the command of the late James T. Kirk. Sulu was one of those borderline obsessive-compulsive characters whose gifted skills as a helmsman were nearly immeasurable. He had been a brash young man with wildly eclectic tastes and interests. One week, botany. The next week, ancient firearms. The following week, geodes. But he was not the same young lieutenant from three decades past. He was the ship’s captain, and he had a problem.

Noel was about to counsel her captain for a death that had occurred ten years ago. She hadn’t known Janet Rachelson. That wasn’t important, of course, but the fact that Sulu couldn’t come to grips with her death was the crux of his problem.

"Hello, Doctor," Sulu’s baritone voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Good afternoon, Captain. Please, call me ‘Helen.’"

"Only if you call me ‘Hikaru.’" He smiled broadly.

And falsely, she decided. "Please, have a seat, Hikaru."

"Sure, Doc...er, Helen." He sat rather stiffly on the leather-covered settee. "So what do I do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"Uh, walk out of here and resume my duties."

She smiled slightly, and shook her head. "I’m sorry. Not until we have a little chat."

He shrugged. "Yeah, I know." He looked around at the wall decorations. A few diplomas, a couple of paintings of historical figures. Nothing really to give away any clues about the woman who would sit in judgment on his mental state. "So what else can we do?"

"You tell me."

He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "I suppose we’ll just have to talk."

"Only if you want to."

"Oh, I don’t want to, Doctor Noel. But I’ve got no choice. Doctor Cord has seen to that."

The titles are back, she noted. "And how does that make you feel, Captain?"

"How does it make me feel? How does it make me feel? How would you feel, Doctor, if you were relieved of duty by...by..."

"By your lover?"

Sulu’s face flushed crimson. He crossed his arms and looked at the ceiling, his face slowly returning to its proper color.

She let him sit there for a while, then finally, when she realized he wasn’t going to volunteer to speak, she decided to shift modes. "Hikaru, I realize that this is difficult for you. It was difficult for Doctor Cord. It is difficult for me. However, it has become quite clear to her that you have a problem. Can you tell me what that problem is?"

"Ariel says I haven’t dealt with Janet Rachelson’s death, and that I haven’t been able to deal with the deaths of others since that time."

"And do you think she’s wrong?"

There was a pause. "No."

She raised an eyebrow.

He apparently noticed it. "I’ve never been one for deceiving myself, Doc—Helen. I’m well aware that my feet are made of clay."

She regarded him with increased approval. "Then I want you to tell me a story."

"About what?"

She glanced at her padd. "Tell me about the death of Dmitri Valtane."

"Two and a half months after Praxis exploded, the Excelsior was maintaining its survey mission outside the Klingon Neutral Zone when word came from Starfleet Command that Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy had been taken to the Klingon homeworld to stand trial. It was something I was not going to permit..."

"I was about to attempt an unauthorized rescue mission. My entire command crew was in agreement with one exception..."

"We were only about thirty minutes into the nebula when the Klingons attacked. They were lying in wait in the nebula, and they began firing old-fashioned but highly-effective concussive charges across our bow..."

Helen Noel regarded her captain with increased scrutiny. "That’s not the way you reported it, is it?"

Sulu’s shoulders slumped. "Dmitri Valtane’s death occurred as a result of a plasma conduit leak. An examination of the conduit showed a manufacturing flaw, so his death was due to the malfunction of that station."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

He was insistent. "I’m not lying, Doc. You can check with the Captain of Engineering, if you like."

"And Starfleet? Usually a death like that results in an official inquiry, doesn’t it?"

"Quite so. Officially, the explanation was accurate, and, therefore, my judgment was not called into question. Unofficially, Admiral Bill Smillie told me if I ever did such a hare-brained stunt again, he’d personally see to it that I was mopping the floors at Starfleet’s Maximum Security Detention Center on Alcatraz."

"And Dmitri Valtane...your decision led to his death."

Sulu looked at the floor. "He died before his time," the captain conceded.

"You killed him," she leveled the accusation like an axe.

"Yes, I did." His eyes were brimming with tears.

She looked at her wrist chronometer. "Our time’s up today, Captain. I’m restoring you to active duty, on the provision that you’re here tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, until we work through a few things."

"I...I’m not...I don’t want to leave yet."

"It’s time, sir. I want you to go back to your cabin for a while. Think it all over again."

He met her eyes, confusion on his face.

"See ya!" And with that, Helen Noel strolled out of her office, leaving a perplexed Hikaru Sulu not knowing what to do.

*****

Janice Rand, Ariel Cord and Helen Noel were seated around a small table in the Officers’ Lounge on Deck 2. No one else was in the room, and Rand had locked the doors under her personal code. She had poured each of them a cup of coffee, and now was waiting for the psychologist to begin her report. She had been waiting for a least five minutes while Noel crunched noisily on a biscotti, and Rand was about to order her to report when the doctor wiped her mouth off and stood.

"Well, I was pretty hard on him today."

Cord and Rand looked expectantly at the psychologist who did not continue until after Rand prompted, "And?"

"And he’s perfectly capable of command. He’s not delusional. He’s not megalomaniacal. He appears to be suffering from mild clinical depression— not surprising after losing nine people in as many weeks. But without going into details, we discussed a death of a crewman from a few years ago, a death which is was clearly responsible for."

"Dmitri Valtane?" asked Rand.

Noel nodded. "And he’s still shaken up about that as well."

Cord summed it all up. "So he just can’t deal with the deaths of his crew... That’s probably grounds for losing his commission."

"I don’t agree at all, Doctor," Noel answered. "He deals with most of them without this sort of angst. In the case of Dmitri Valtane, he bore a lot of responsibility for the ensign’s death. He admits and accepts it. The same probably holds true for the science team that died yesterday. But in the case of the five crew members last month, I’d bet he understands that he was not responsible."

"He’s the commander of this ship. That makes him responsible," argued Rand.

Noel shook her head. "Not the same sort of thing. That’s why he passes all his pysch tests. In fact, he passed every single one of them today. But if we were to rewrite the tests so that they exclusively dealt with Dmitri Valtane, he might not pass them."

"Is that something we should do?" asked Rand. "Is that what we want to do?"

Cord stood up. "Of course not, Janice. We want what’s best for Hikaru." She looked at Noel who nodded. "I’d like him to remain as Captain of this ship, despite all appearances to the contrary. But he needs help. The good starship commander feels the deaths of his crew. That’s what makes them so good at their job, and why their crews will willing follow them. Sulu is a good starship commander, but he’s blaming himself too much for the deaths which occur at the result of his decisions."

Noel nodded. "There’s a fine line every starship commander has to walk. Some captains, like James T. Kirk, manage to do it well. Some stray away from the line every once in a while, and need a little help to get back on course."

"So give me your final recommendations, Doctor," ordered Rand. "What do we do here?"

"First of all, I’m going to recommend he be returned to active duty status, no mention of this problem to anyone outside of the three of us and Boris and the ship’s log—we’ll flag it confidential to make sure it goes no further. Secondly, I’m going to require him to attend a twice weekly counseling session for the next two months. After that, we’ll see."

Rand sighed in relief. "Then he’s..."

Noel chuckled. "He’s not nuts, Janice. Just a rather complex man with a rather complex problem that I think we can get worked out in a few weeks’ worth of sessions."

Cord’s own chest heaved. "Man, is he going to be mad at me..."

The executive officer chuckled. "That’s an understatement, Ariel. Funny, with blonde hair, you don’t look terribly Vulcan." She spoke louder and upward, towards the ceiling microphone. "Captain Sulu to Officer’s Lounge, Deck Two."

"On my way. Sulu out."

"Computer, allow Captain Sulu admittance to this room."

"Acknowledged. Captain Sulu is to be admitted to Officer’s Lounge, Deck Two."

The women put away their coffee and arranged a fourth chair on the opposite side of the table. Then they took their seats, Rand in the middle, Noel on the right and Cord on the left, and waited for the captain.

They didn’t have to wait long.

Fifteen seconds later, the doors slid open, and all three women stood. Rand spoke, "Thank you for joining us, Captain. Please, have a seat."

Sulu did as was told, glancing at Cord with apologetic yearning on his face, and at Noel with almost palpable embarrassment. Rand noticed both exchanges, and nodded to the two of them to have a seat, choosing to remain standing for a brief instance before sitting down herself.

"Captain Sulu," Rand began, "I shall get right to the point. The chief medical officer of this ship relieved you of command pending the outcome of certain psychological tests and an initial interview with this ship’s psychologist. Doctor Noel?"

The psychologist began, "As I reported to Commander Rand, you are suffering from a mild case of depression. It is my belief that this will not impede your command, but I’m going to insist that you accede to two sessions with me per week, at your convenience, of course, for the next two months. I believe that there are some issues that must be resolved and soon for your mental health. Doctor Cord?"

"Captain, you passed every single psychological test I threw at you today. I, too, am convinced you are competent to continue serving as this ship’s commander. If you agree to Doctor Noel’s request for twice weekly sessions for the next two months, I will close my inquiry into your state of mental health."

Sulu took a deep breath. "I will agree to Doctor Noel’s ‘request,’ of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me? I have a starship to run." He stood, turned and left.

*****

Personal Log, Supplemental

First Officer Janice Rand recording

Having received a detailed report from Ship’s Psychologist Helen Noel, I am convinced that the captain is indeed fit to command the Excelsior. The deaths of the five crewmen in the Kornephoros system has weighed heavily on his heart. The deaths of the four science officers yesterday more so. However, Doctor Noel says that his judgment and command decisions have not been impaired, and that while depressed, he is certainly still a capable commander. She has ordered him to attend regular sessions with her for the next eight weeks, but has returned him to active duty status. The prognosis is excellent, and I’m relieved by her confidence in the captain.

*****

The late afternoon command crew briefing was always a quiet affair. Today, it was more so than usual. Captain Sulu sat at the head of the table, Rand and Cord at his left and right sides. Lojur was next to Rand, Maliszewski next to Cord. Other officers were seated around the table as well, but it was unlikely they’d be called upon for input. Sulu was a very insular captain.

Of course, Lieutenant Ryan Peterson would make a comment or two or five. And, of course, Sulu would not be happy with those comments, but he would deal with them. A relatively new officer aboard the Excelsior, Peterson had a tendency to speak his mind, if rather obliquely, on just about anything and everything.

Sulu spoke softly. "First and probably only order of business: Funeral procedures for the landing party," he said, beginning the briefing.

One of the junior science officers who attended the briefing as the Sciences department representative, Ensign Roger Dashner, "I’ve thought of something, but I don’t know..."

Sulu sighed, annoyed that a junior officer would actually speak at a briefing without being addressed. He realized, then, that Dashner and Tuvok were right now the senior most science officers aboard. "Come on, Ensign. Out with it."

"Well, I’ve been thinking that we could encase the bodies in photon torpedo casings and launch them into the crater of Thor’s Hammer."

Hikaru Sulu considered it. "An interesting suggestion, and quite apropos. Very well. Are there any other recommendations?"

There were none, and the expressions on the faces of those present indicated tacit approval.

He decided, "Let’s do it. Make all the necessary arrangements, Commander Rand. Funeral service should be scheduled at nineteen hundred hours."

"Aye, sir."

"Are there any religious observances required?"

Rand looked at her padd. "None of them had any preferences for the disposition of their bodies, sir. Other than Lieutenant Feltman, their personnel records indicate no religious preferences either."

"And LeeAnn?"

"Southern Baptist, sir. She wanted Victory in Jesus played during the service."

"Oh, Lord..." muttered Peterson under his breath.

"Let’s do it," said Sulu. "Anything else, funeral-wise?"

All eyes turned to Peterson. Sheepishly, he shook his head. "No, sir."

Inwardly relieved, the captain asked, "Next item?"

"We’re going to need a new chief science officer and Assistant Chief science officer," said Rand.

Dashner shook his head. "Don’t take this the wrong way, Captain, but I don’t want the job."

"Rather presumptuous for an ensign to think he’s being considered for such a high-ranking position," observed Sulu dryly.

"Sorry, sir."

"You can either promote from within, or bring someone in from elsewhere," Cord said.

"I’m undecided," Sulu answered noncommittally.

Rand nodded her head. "I’d like to post the position with Starfleet personnel, sir, as well as aboard."

"Let’s do it." He looked at his padd. "Well, then, we’re going to remain in orbit for another day, then we’re to report to Starbase Eighty-Six for a day or two while our nacelles get a brief modification before proceeding on to our next assignment. Ship’s department heads are to make ready for warp. We’ll leave orbit at oh-nine-hundred tomorrow morning." He glanced around the table. "Anything else?"

No response from anyone. For perhaps the first time during his tenure aboard the Excelsior, Peterson had not disrupted a staff meeting.

"I expect all of you on the photon torpedo deck at eighteen-forty-five. Dismissed."

Sulu reached down and picked up his padd as his officers filed out the door. He remained seated looking at what he’d written so far.

Letters to the parents of the deceased were always a difficult task. Especially when the one writing the letter is the commanding officer. Even though he had been lobbied by Jordan, it had been his decision to okay the mission to the planet’s surface. He would love to have deferred this task to his executive officer as other ship captains had been known to do, but it was the captain’s duty to write such letters.

"Captain?"

He looked up, startled. "Yes, Ariel?"

She looked at him with genuine warmth. "Got a minute?"

He nodded slightly. "A minute."

"I’m sorry about pulling medical rank on you today."

"No, you’re not," he smiled weakly. "And you may be right. I do have a hard time dealing with death."

"She told me she was pretty hard on you."

"Not as hard as I’ve been on myself."

"Can I take a guess?"

"Be my guest," he gestured with an open hand.

"Dmitri Valtane?"

"Touché." He met her eyes. Tears were brimming in them. His own eyes welled up. "I killed him."

"I thought a ruptured plasma conduit did that."

"It ruptured because we were taking disruptor and photon torpedo fire from the Klingons."

"I remind you that your chief engineer said it would have ruptured within a few days’ time anyway. The end result would have been the same. If not Dmitri Valtane, it would’ve been Jordan or Feltman or Jones or Dashner or Tuvok. Starfleet agreed with Mallie, you know. Otherwise, you would’ve been court-martialed, Hikaru."

"I think you’re trying to sabotage Doctor Noel’s efforts. Why?"

"Actually, she sent me here."

Sulu tilted his head. "Liar."

She smiled and walked to him. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him tightly. "I love you, Hikaru."

He relished the warmth of her body and felt a faint stirring in his loins. "I’ve never understood why."

"Silly, silly boy." She kissed him gently. "Let’s go get some dinner before the funeral service."

"Give me twenty minutes to finish these letters."

"Okay," and she gave him another tender kiss before leaving him to his grim task.

*****

Funeral.

It was not a happy time for anyone, but an extended family like the crew of a starship always took the death of one of their own personally.

This time, there were four photon torpedo casings, draped with the blue and white flag of the Federation. An old-time country hymn finished playing in the background.

Sulu stepped up to the podium, and addressed the assembled officers and crew. "We are gathered together today to say goodbye to our fallen friends. They gave their lives in the pursuit of knowledge." He glanced around at the assembly. "The Vulcans say that the dead are to be mourned only if the lives were wasted. Given the remarkable finds of Lieutenant Commander Kevin Jordan, Lieutenant LeeAnn Feltman, Ensign Laurie Morgan and Geological Technician David Jones, there is no reason to mourn. We shall, however, honor their memories in the most fitting of ways." He nodded at Captain of Engineering Maliszewski, and the torpedoes were launched, two by two, toward the planet’s surface. "We commit their bodies to the planet for which they gave their lives in exploration. Atten-tion!"

The crew snapped to. A monitor showed the torpedoes entering the lava pool in the volcanic caldera.

"Dismissed."

*****

Hikaru Sulu sat down to dinner with Ariel Cord in their shared quarters. They had not spoken all evening, except to discuss dinner—beef, chicken, pork and shrimp fondue with mushrooms and fresh, hot garlic bread—and the wine—rice wine. They sat at their table, shoes off, eating politely and again in total silence.

When finished, they put away their own dishes, and Sulu sat down in his lounger, staring into the void of space through the port in their quarters. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and he clasped it with his hand.

"Make love to me, Hikaru," Ariel said, slipping off her dress uniform with the practice of a lifetime. She positioned herself between him and the stars.

He passively allowed her to undress him — jacket, tunic, boots, socks — then stood as she removed his trousers. Reaching into his Starfleet-issue boxers, she carefully tugged his manhood until it was free. She nurtured it with tender caresses from her tongue and lips, and it stirred to life rather quickly.

She looked up at him. "Make love to me, Hikaru," she asked again, almost pleading.

He nodded and helped her to her feet. Standing, he guided her to their bed and maneuvered her onto the edge of the bed. Spreading her legs gently, he began tonguing the downy folds of her warm, inviting entrance with a flitting move. She shuddered softly. He leaned forward and allowed his tongue to caress her hooded button, and she lay back on the bed, reveling in his ministrations.

Once she climaxed, mildly, but he continued, and now she was more urgent in her pleas. "Make love to me, Hikaru. I want you inside me, now." He maneuvered two fingers, and she chuckled. "That’s not what I had in mind."

He stood and freed his turgid member from his boxers and with an easy move, glided into her wetness.

They thrust their bodies at each other, but never seemed to get the right tempo for either of them. She whimpered and he grunted as they came, not together, but disjointedly, and almost unfulfilled.

"I’m sorry," Sulu began. "It wasn’t very good, was it?"

"Shhh," she said softly, placing a finger over his lips. "We can’t score a ten every time, you know."

They held each other until both drifted off to sleep.

*****

Captain Xon sat in the center seat of the science ship Cooper, reviewing the analysis from Spectrography on the remnants of the Azure nebula. It was hard to imagine that only three years ago, this was a modest nebula, ranging about ten lightyears at its widest measure. It was harder to believe that it had been destroyed at the orders of his former commanding officer, Captain Hikaru Sulu. It was hardest to believe that the actions were deemed necessary by Sulu in order to flee its Klingon escort in an attempt to do rescue Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy from Rura Penthe, a clearly illegal action which would have resulted in his court-martial at the least and intergalactic war at the worst. No matter. Kaiidth. What was done, was done.

Ensign Chen Kenichi turned from the science station. "Captain, I’m detecting four ships on approach. The lead ship is being pursued by three others, and they are firing on it."

"Have they crossed the Klingon Neutral Zone yet?"

"No, sir. Another three minutes before their present course and speed brings them in to Federation space," reported Kenichi.

"Mister Franklin, move us into position to intercept them when they cross the Zone."

"Aye, sir," the lieutenant replied lazily. As Sulu’s chief science officer aboard the Cooper, Xon had never understood how his former captain had tolerated Lieutenant Benjamin Franklin. Now that he was captain of the Cooper, he found himself equally disposed toward tolerating the forty-something Human.

"Mister Kre'slyt, plot a series of evasive maneuvers, and have them ready to implement," ordered Xon.

"Yeah, we don’t want to get us stuck in there," added Franklin.

"Yes, Captain," the Kzinti navigator replied.

Xon noted with satisfaction that the Cooper’s operations crew was still one of the best in the fleet. Years of tutelage under Captains Daniel Michael Williams and Hikaru Sulu had instilled something...intangible...amongst them. Even though many of the crew had been killed during that battle, or perhaps because of it, the esprit de corps of the Cooper was renowned far and wide.

"Unidentified ship on a course to pass within five thousand kilometers of our position," reported Science Officer Kenichi.

"Advise the Klingons against crossing into Federation space," the Vulcan captain suggested.

The communications officer turned, "Unidentified ship is now broadcasting a distress signal. No response from the Klingons to our advisory statement."

"The Klingons have opened fire," reported Kenichi.

"Arm weapons," Xon ordered. "Raise shields to maximum. Red alert."

"Unidentified ship has not returned fire."

"Position ourselves between the Klingons and the unidentified ship as soon as it crosses into Federation space."

"Aye, sir." Franklin looked at his instruments. "They’re passing us...now. Moving us into—"

"Captain, the unidentified ship has opened fire!"

The Cooper’s deck tilted suddenly upward, and everyone was thrown to the floor. Xon called over the commotion, "Signal the Klingons! Tell them we—"

"Captain, the Klingons aren’t firing on us! The unidentified ship has...oh, God! Incoming!!!"

Xon didn’t remember anything else.

Sulu snapped up with a start at Ariel Cord’s scream. He quickly scanned the room as he rolled out of bed, but there was nothing amiss. He glanced back at the now sobbing chief medical officer. "Oh, God, Jim..."

"Ariel?" he asked concernedly.

She buried her face in her hands, still sobbing. Gasping between them, she tried to allay his fears: "I’m fine, ‘Karu. Just a bad dream..."

"A bad dream? I’d hate to see what you call a nightmare."

She continued sobbing, almost uncontrollably. He sat down next to her, wrapped his thin arms around her and held her for half an hour until she stopped.

*****

Personal Log, Stardate 9510.0
Captain Hikaru Sulu recording

I’m concerned about the emotional state about my chief medical officer, Commander Ariel Cord. The incident with the explosion in the sickbay lab of the Cooper did not impair her performance on the job in any way, but I’ve been concerned about the nightmares she’s been having of late. It’s been five years since that explosion that took the life of Jim Sherrod and damned near killed Ariel, yet last night she awoke, screaming his name.

It’s ironic that her emotional problem should coincide with my own.

*****

Hikaru Sulu sat down at the table next to his first officer. All he wanted was coffee and doughnuts and a few minutes without interruption as he read the morning Intergalactic News Service report. But that’s not what his first officer wanted.

Janice Rand looked over her tray of oatmeal and coffee. "Made your decision about the science officer posting?"

"No," Sulu yawned. "I haven’t given it much thought yet."

"Given my recommendation any—"

"I haven’t. It’s only been two days since they were killed, Janice."

"Tuvok’s a bright—"

"Look, I don’t want your input, Janice."

She stared at him passively. "I know."

He met her eyes for a brief moment. "Sorry." He sighed. "Look, Janice, I know that I’ve got a decision to make, but I’m just not ready to make that decision yet. Any problem with that, Commander?"

She shrugged it off. "No problem, Captain."

They finished their breakfast in silence.

*****

In Sickbay, Ariel Cord was recalling the medical log recording from the U.S.S. Cooper from five years ago. How do you do it? How do you stay so young looking? She heard one of her friends asking, Where’s the painting, ‘Doctor Dorian’? She shook her head to clear it. She looked at the medical diagnostic reading from the physical she’d just given herself. "Computer, verify subject’s physical age."

"Readings from medical sensors suggest the subject is twenty-three years old."

Twenty-three. She shook her head in disbelief. She was still twenty-three years old, and yet everyone knew she was over fifty. Hell, she’d even dated Captain Christopher Pike a long time ago, on a beach on a planet a long way away.

And then there’d been the fire aboard the Cooper. Five years ago, a Romulan booby trap had consumed the entire Sickbay of that scoutship in an utterly complete conflagration. The computer flashed its readiness to process the visual recording. She pressed the play button and watched as the Romulan on the autopsy table exploded. Sherrod and she had managed to get every else out (those two kids, she couldn’t remember their names), then the flames and the heat killed Sherrod and seared the clothing right off her body. But as she watched in horrified amazement, she herself did not burn. She felt the heat from the fire, watched as her skin ashed and flaked, watched her hair melt and fall out only to be instantaneously replaced by new growth.

It wasn’t easy watching oneself being burned alive.

And yet she was here today, standing, without understanding how she had ever survived the ordeal. She had only one hypothesis. Grabbing her padd, which contained all her vital readings and medical information, she strode back and forth, looking it over for an error. After at least half an hour, she shook her head in frustration. Making a decision, she addressed the open-ceiling mike. "Sickbay to Communications."

"Bridge, Communications, Commander Rand here."

"Janice, can you patch me a CommPic through to my father on Chrysalis?"

"Sure, Doc. Nothing wrong is there?"

"Just a little medical mystery he might be able to give me some insight into."

"Okey-dokey." There was a pause. "The captain’s cleared it, and I’m putting you through now."

The screen against the far wall flickered, but there was no answer until an automated message center popped up. "You have reached the message center of Aaron Cord. Please leave your message and your BellComm number, stellar code and planetary exchange, and he will return your call in all due haste."

Cord rolled her eyes. "Daddy, this is Ariel. Just called to let you know that in a few days’ time I’ll be coming for a visit while on leave. Damn it, Daddy. I need to talk to you. I’m some sort of freak, and I think you know why, but you damn well better be there for me. None of this ‘away on location’ bullshit." Her tone softened. "I love you, Daddy. See you soon." She pressed the end transmission button. "Fuck!" she threw her padd across the room, and it slammed satisfyingly into the wall, shattering.

There was a chime, and Ariel Cord was startled. Someone was at the door to her office which she had sealed while performing her self-examination. She calmed herself considerably, and taking a deep breath, headed to the door. She unlocked it, and it slid open to reveal...

"Captain," the doctor said. "Come on in."

Hikaru Sulu stepped into his doctor’s office. "You all right, Ariel?" He closed the door and locked it.

She looked at him with an annoyed grimace on her face. "Well," she answered sarcastically, "what do you think? Basically, after what I’ve been through, I’m supposed to be all right?"

"Do you need to talk to Doctor Noel about this?" asked the captain, referring to the ship’s psychologist.

"Oh very funny. Ha, ha, ha. I refer you, and you refer me..." She scowled at him. "Honestly, I don’t think I’m to that point yet, Hikaru. I need to talk to my father. There’s something familiar about all this, but I just keep drawing a blank about where I read it. For some reason, I suspect he knows what’s going on, knows why I am the way I am. He’s got to know about this, and I’m going to get him to tell me."

Sulu shrugged. "There are a lot worse things. Some people would give their right arm not to age."

"Yeah, but until I know what’s going on, I can’t help but think of myself as a freak."

He glanced at the BellComm screen. "I gather you didn’t get through to him?"

"Daddy’s a very busy man, Hikaru. For Heaven’s sake, he’s the second biggest entertainment mogul in the Federation, second only to Brad Bashaw. He’s probably off-planet on business again."

Sulu gave her a hopeful expression for her sake. "It’ll be about a day’s travel time from here to Starbase Eighty-six for that retrofitting on the warp drive nacelle cowlings. The refit will take a day or two at most. You and I can take a shuttlecraft to Chrysalis during that time. I’ve already put in for the leave for both of us. You can talk to him then."

"If he’s even there." She chuckled angrily.

The red alert klaxon sounded.

"Sulu here," he called up to the microphone. "Report!" He strode out of the office as Rand reported over the ship’s intercom system.

"Captain, sensors have detected a distress call. We have changed course from Starbase Eighty-Six, and are now moving in on an intercept course."

"Stand down to Yellow Alert. I’m on my way."

"Aye, sir," came Commander Rand’s displeased voice.

*****

As Sulu entered the bridge from the starboard turbolift, Ensign Tuvok turned from Science One. "Sensors detect a debris field and damaged vessel directly ahead, Captain."

"Take us out of warp, Mister Lojur."

"Aye, sir."

"Ensign, detailed analysis?"

"Federation science ship, sir. Oberth-class. Mercury Seven-variant."

There was a slight pause, as if he was dreading the answer to the question he was about to ask. "Identification?"

Rand spoke up. "Transponders indicate the ship is the Cooper, sir."

There was a sharp pang in Sulu’s chest at the sight of his old ship. "Raise them!" he snapped. "Life signs?"

"We are detecting several dozen life signs, sir. I would—"

"Analysis, Tuvok!!"

The Vulcan raised his eyebrow. "As I was about to say, sir, the Cooper has been attacked by disruptor volleys. Weapons signatures indicate they were Klingon in origin from two, possibly three vessels."

Peterson chimed in. "Well, I’m not sure this is, uh, something you want to hear, but, uh, the sensors also indicate that the ion emissions in this area are from Klingon S-4 graf units. Now, I’m not one to draw conclusions, but, hey, you know..."

"Sound Red Alert. All hands to battlestations!"

"...it kinda looks to me like the Klingons, are, well, the guys responsible here."

"All hands: Red Alert. Battlestations! Battlestations!" shouted Lieutenant Brai into the ship’s intercom system. As a Rigelian Kaylar, his demeanor was always confrontational. During a Red Alert, it was even more so.

During the call to Battlestations, Sulu turned to Peterson at Tactical. "Mister, I don’t know where you learned to give that kind of report, but on my starship, I don’t have time for hemming and hawing. I want answers, and I want them now. And if you can’t give them to me concisely, then I’ll find someone who can."

"All decks report ready, sir. All hands at battlestations," Brai reported.

"Aye, sir," Peterson answered.

"Bring us to within transporter range, Helm," ordered Sulu, his attention again on the mainviewer.

Lojur answered, "Aye, sir."

"Sensors to maximum. Any trace of their attacker?" Sulu pointedly looked toward Science One instead of Tactical. Peterson took the ‘hint’ and decided to let the young Vulcan science officer answer.

"I’m detecting six S-4 graf unit signatures in subspace, sir. Bearing toward the Klingon colony world Korvat at high warp speed," replied Tuvok.

"Any answer to our hails?"

"No, sir," answered Rand. "Once in transporter range, we should be able to raise the Cooper on their communicators. Their comm system is definitely damaged. I can’t access it."

"Tactical Officer, report on the Cooper’s status." He turned the chair to Tactical again, and with just his eyes dared Peterson to give anything other than a straightforward answer.

"The ship has sustained damage to its engines. The lower antimatter conversion/containment pod has been ejected. The starboard warp engine has been destroyed."

"And the crew compartments?"

"The hull has been breached in Engineering, the bridge and the forward observation deck. Life signs are concentrated on Deck Four, sir. I’d guess that they’ve shut themselves into Sickbay."

"A logical deduction, Captain," remarked Tuvok. "That area is the most protected on any Federation starship, even that of the Oberth class."

"Sir!" Rand called. "I’ve got them!"

"Cooper, this is Excelsior," Sulu began tentatively.

"Greetings, Captain Sulu," came a familiar voice. "Forgive me if I don’t offer you a tour of the Cooper."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow in disapproval.

"Xon! Thank God!" Sulu was relieved. "How’s your crew, Captain?"

"Somewhat worse for wear, but within acceptable parameters."

"Casualties?"

"Severe injuries at present. We need emergency medical attention for some of the crew. We were most fortunate that no one has yet died, but that may soon change, given the condition of some of our survivors. We are also missing a crewman."

"Interesting," Tuvok chimed in. "I would estimate the odds of withstanding an attack of this magnitude with no fatalities at—"

"Ensign, shut up," snapped Sulu. The captain turned to Brai. "Get me a boarding party and a medical team to Transporter Room Two in three minutes." He looked back to Rand. "And find Ensign Dashner. I’ve had enough of Ensign Tuvok and Lieutenant Peterson for today," he ordered sotto voce.

They both looked across the bridge at the two officers. Peterson was oblivious to what was said, but Tuvok’s eyebrow had raised in a typical Vulcan censure.

She shook her head. "Captain," her eyes narrowed, "Ensign Dashner is presently engaged in an experiment in the astrometrics lab. We have orders not to disturb him."

"Who issued those orders?" Sulu was incensed.

Rand thrust a padd at him with a copy of those orders. "You signed off on them this morning, sir."

The captain of the Excelsior said nothing. There was nothing to be said. Nothing at all. Except, "I’ll be joining the boarding party."

Rand raised an eyebrow. "Not quite like you, Captain. Usually you like quarterbacking from the center seat."

Brai slowly moved to stand between the captain and the starboard turbolift, but the captain strolled around him as if the big Kaylar wasn’t even there.

Sulu looked at the mainviewer. "I’ve got friends over there; some are hurt and dying. You couldn’t keep me here if you tried." He stepped into the turbolift. "You have the conn, Commander Rand." To the Kaylar, he asked, "Care to accompany me, Lieutenant?"

There was a grunt of approval, and Brai stooped down to enter the lift. "Always, Captain," the security chief said as the doors closed.

*****

The Cooper was a wreck; she would clearly be decommissioned. The hull was compromised in nearly twenty places. At its captain, Xon had made the logical decision to retreat to the heavily shield section of the ship: Sickbay and the computer core.

"There are a number of trauma injuries, Doctor Cord. And several burn victims as well," explained Doctor Nerissa Howard, the Cooper’s chief medical officer.

Sulu noted Cord’s little shiver when the phrase "burn victims" was mentioned. "You want to beam back to the Excelsior? Doctor Viger would no doubt be willing to handle this for you."

Though obviously pale, Arial shook her head. "And put up with his insufferable attitude for weeks afterwards? No, thank you, Captain."

*****

Aaron Cord hated business trips. Brad Bashaw had wanted another meeting, and he’d gone along with it. And again rejected yet another proposal for a merger between Bashaw’s Intergalactic New Service and Cord’s Sybaritic Entertainment. He now sat at a the dinner table, putting up with the elegant fare Bashaw always provided. He reviewed the padd in his hands, reading a message from his only daughter while paying scant attention to the comedic duo on stage before him.

I’ve got to tell her the truth, he decided after reading her message.

*****

Captain Xon was seated at a console in the Cooper’s sickbay that he had, in a brilliant display of engineering and technical skill, converted to an operations panel with the use of the Rugg’s Emergency By-Pass Monitor controls. The Vulcan’s grim expression was highlighted by the green-stained makeshift bandage around his head. "I am gratified by your presence, Captain Sulu."

"Hang in there, Xon. We’re beaming the worst injured off first," Sulu apologized. He glanced at Cord who was working with a trauma injury victim.

"Logical, Captain. My injuries are by far less severe than most."

"What happened here, Xon?"

"We were maintaining our position here near the remains of the Azure Nebula, conducting research on...well, on your...influence on the nebula’s stability."

"You mean you were studying it to see how much damage I’d done to it by igniting the sirillium."

"Damage is not the term I would use. The nebula was consumed in the resulting exothermic reaction. It is remarkable that Admiral Kang’s ship survived."

"Well, you were studying the nebula and...?"

"A small privateer warped through the nebula, broadcasting a distress signal. We offered to render assistance, when unexpectedly, three Klingon k’t’inga battlecruisers swept in, and all four ships opened fire." The Vulcan shook his head. "At no time did we even return fire, but their attack was so thorough, so complete."

"But they didn’t finish you off. I guess our approach had something to do with that."

"No, Captain. Those events transpired twelve hours thirty-two minutes and sixteen seconds ago. It has taken us that long to even manage to broadcast our own distress signal."

"To borrow a Vulcan expression, I’d have to say ‘interesting,’" remarked Sulu.

"Indeed. It is infrequent that Klingons leave survivors."

"Agreed. Which brings us to ‘why didn’t they finish blowing the Cooper out of space?’"

*****

Ariel Cord had heard something, she was sure of it. She had heard sobbing on the other side of the bulkhead. "Brai, come here!" she called for the security chief.

The big Rigelian Kaylar came over in a hurry. "What’s up, Doc?"

Doctor Cord’s eyes narrowed, unsure as to whether or not the brutish security guard was trying to be funny. "I think I hear something."

Brai listened intently, but shook his head. "I don’t hear a thing," he admitted.

"How do I get on the other side of this bulkhead?"

The security chief quickly scanned. "Readings are weak, Doc, but there may indeed be a lifeform on the other side. There’s air, too; must be a sealed compartment. It’ll be easier to do it this way." He pulled out his phaser and carefully set it to a high-heat setting. Using it as a cutting torch, he quickly opened up a passageway into the sealed compartment. The second he stopped cutting, he sniffed. "Doctor, there’s someone in there."

Careful not to burn herself, she stepped into the compartment. She turned on her high-intensity search lantern. "Oh, God, get me some help here, Brai," she ordered.

On the floor, leaning against a bulkhead, a blistered and burned body could be seen. Cord was instantly reminded of the old horror film Phantom of the Opera. The missing crewman was so utterly burned that much of his flesh was simply gone. "Oh, God; Oh, God; Oh, God," repeated Cord over and over. She retched and vomited all over the deck. "Brai, get me some help now, damn it!" she shouted, wiping the vomit from her lips and chin.

"I’m here, Doc. Oh, shit," said Medic Tony Melendez. "Hang on, Ariel. I’m coming."

The burly medic stepped into the compartment and instantly had a hypospray of painkiller for the crewman. He pulled out his tricorder and scanned the burn victim, carefully not glancing back at Doctor Cord who was now hyperventilating.

"Oh, my..." came Sulu’s baritone voice. "Ariel, let’s get you out of there." He offered her his hand.

She declined it. "I’ll be okay. I can be of help here."

He thrust his hand at her again. "That wasn’t a request, Doctor."

The two met each others’ eyes, and she took his hand. Stepping through the burned opening, she saw the reproof in his eyes, and failed to meet them again until she beamed back to the Excelsior.

*****

As Assistant Chief Medical Officer, Dars Viger was generally an unhappy Bolian. Not that Bolians were a very happy group to begin with, of course. They had quite a reputation for being complainers, ingratiaters, and generally temperamental fools who had aggrandized perceptions of themselves, their work and abilities.

And here he was working under the direction of a former porn starlet, Ariel Cord. She was not a very good diagnostician; she had a rather slack attitude towards required Starfleet medical reports; she was lazy when it came to autopsies, almost always shoving them off on Viger or whatever other doctor was available; and she had a problem with dealing with burn victims, regardless of severity.

Not that he hadn’t said anything, of course. He’d repeatedly complained to Executive Officer Rand about Cord’s lack of direction in the medical section of the Excelsior. He’d decided not to complain about the captain’s lover to the captain, of course. No need to sabotage his own career with such a stupid move. But apparently Sulu had some hold over Rand as well. She logged in his reports, but never chose to act on them.

Now, Cord lay prone on his bed as he ran a diagnostic scanner over her, and Sulu was at her side.

Viger checked the readings, looked at the scanner, and turned to Sulu, "This scanner is out of adjustment, Captain, but I’d say that Doctor Cord is suffering from shock." He tapped on it a few times. "I cannot understand how badly this thing is out of adjustment."

"Doctor Viger," Sulu chided gently, "your patient?"

"Oh, sorry, Captain. I realize that