"Shaun?"

"Hmm?"

"The alarm?"

"What?"

"Could you turn off the alarm?"

He noted that the sheets were soaked beneath him. He’d had the same dream again. The one where he re-lived once again his failure to stop the Kelvan from getting away with their hostages from Free Market, one of which was Murray Williams, his father-in-law.

He felt his wife’s hand touch his back. "You’re soaking wet, dear."

"Yeah, I know, Arlene." Reaching over to the nightstand, he silenced the alarm, quickly noting that he still had a few more minutes before he really had to get up.

"The same?"

"Yeah."

"It’s been three years. There was nothing you could do to prevent it."

"So the board said." He rolled over and took her in his arms, feeling the warmth of her skin against his.

"But you still don’t believe it, do you?" she replied, her fingers caressing his chest, pushing through the body hair.

"Consciously, yes," he answered, his own fingertips following the indentation of her spine. "But some part of me won’t let go. I should never have initiated action against them in the first place."

"But then how many more would have been killed, eaten alive in the mean time?"

They laid quietly in each other’s arms for what seemed an eternity. A waste disposal unit hummed loudly from the cabin next door.

"Well," he said as he lightly spanked her firm bottom, "we’ve got to get up. I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a lot to do today."

"And I don’t?" she responded, rolling out of his relaxed embrace. "After all, my commander is very demanding of his science officers."

"The slave master. I should have a talk with him and get him to let up a bit."

She pivoted on her bottom and leaned over to give him a peck on the lips. "Would you?"

"Of course. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you love."

They embraced again, giving each other a searching kiss. After a long moment, she pulled back and smiled. "We’ll never get to work this way."

"You think?"

"Yep."

"I guess I can clear this with your commander as well, if you want?"

"Thanks, but no thanks." She quickly got to her feet and walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She seen so much, Kelsey thought as he stared out the transparent aluminum portal of the conference room, of a huge space dock facility, at a ship held there by powerful, mechanical arms. He’d reserved this room in particular for the view. Technicians, like aphids on a rose, crawled all over her surface, prodding, searching her for imperfections and cleaning her skin. He shook his head as he saw the shining metallic surface revealed as tint was removed from the atomic matrix of its Titanium alloy. Soon they’ll have all her beautiful scales off, and she’ll be nude, he concluded, shaking his head. Worse yet, they’ll return her color to that of the rest of the fleet, his thoughts continued. That same ol’ boring white.

He could still remember when his ship had received the tinting that was being removed. The official war had ended in 2285 with the Kelvan, that species’ powerful progenitor destroyed by the Genesis torpedo. However, they had taken so many worlds in their short conquest; it had taken nearly six years finding all of them and mopping them up. His thoughts went back to five years and the events that led up to the design that was slowly, but surely, coming off his ship.

And so had come about the stylized serpent that had graced the skin of his corvette ever since. He watched as slowly the large head of a striking viper, whose eyes and mouth were centered on the phaser batteries, disappeared–the workers eliminated the tint from her skin like an unwanted tattoo.

Each of the five photon batteries gracing the stanchion over the oval shaped primary hull had snakeheads as well. He watched as, one by one, the smaller heads were removed. Floating at station nearby, the replacements were waiting. All but the center photon battery were to be replaced with sensor stations. "What a waste," he whispered to himself, his eyes glazing over with emotion.

Then he noted movement from the great door that allowed access to the cavernous enclosure of this repair and refit facility. A new ship was being brought in by a couple of yard tugs. It only had one hull—saucer shaped, the trademark of Starfleet—but that was where the likeness ended. He felt an emotion creep up within himself. One he hadn’t felt since the first time he’d seen the corvette class ship he’d commanded now since the beginning of hostilities with the Kelvan.

It slowly passed between him and the Lance giving him a long moment of inspection. Though she had the saucer shaped primary, it didn’t come to the same edge like the old Constitution class heavy cruiser, but rather was fully six decks thick, and from there rising five more successively smaller floors to the bridge bubble, but remaining flat across the bottom to the heavy stanchion that attached the engines to the main body. There were also five decks below the saucer, leading to the lower sensor dome.

The dual impulse drives were located on either side of the warp drive pylons, and rotated 90º from their usual configuration. But it was the warp drive configuration that really made this new class of ship unique. Four warp nacelles. Two attached to a horizontal support structure, which itself was attached to the ship by a stanchion that angled diagonally forty-five degrees back from the top of the engineering section of the hull, and two more doing likewise from the bottom.

It had a class designation, he knew: Constellation. The first ones built before the Kelvan War had a serious construction flaw that manifested itself in 2287. Almost all the Constellations suffered system-wide failures and shutdowns, and had to be hauled into ports. An investigation had shown the short-cuts taken by the Richter-Hyperdyne Corporation in the ships had caused the problem. It was fortunate that no one had died. The newer ships were being built on the same basic framework, but built by the more reliable (if not more expensive) Yokohama-Chrysler Corporation. The engines had been rated by Starfleet’s Corps of Engineering as ‘vastly superior’ to the warp drive engines of the up-rated Constitutions and ‘superior’ to the warp engines of the Excelsiors.

With that much available energy, she must be pure death in space, his thoughts intruded on the pleasure he felt in the viewing. He couldn’t see her weapon configuration yet, but just as he began to search for them, the Lance came out of eclipse, and he had a deep sense of guilt at the dalliance.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask. He pulled out the small, personal subspace transmitter issued to all commanders and opened a channel. "Commander Kelsey to Dock Control."

A male voice answered. "Dock Control."

"Name of new ship just entering the dock area, please?"

"That is..."

Kelsey noted the slight sound of impatience and disdain in the voice on the other side. Dock Control’s comm panel must have lit up like a Christmas tree when that ship came in, he figured as the man answered his question.

"...the U.S.S. Chosin. Just released from the construction docks at Utopia Planitia and beginning final internal spec tune-up and crewing. She is the latest of the Constellation class exploration vessels and is rated as a fast cruiser in tonnage. Is there anything else, sir?"

"No. Thank you. Kelsey, out." He closed the channel and watched as the Chosin was docked in the facility right next to the Lance. It was then that he noted that all repair and refit activity had stopped on his ship. Now what? he asked himself, his gaze dropping to the tips of boots as he began to open another channel.

"Nothing there but dust, Reggie," came a familiar, but derisive voice with a definite alien accent from behind him.

"You’ll burn out fast, Nova," he responded, a smile spreading across his face as he turned to face the originator. He wasn’t surprised to see an Andorian standing there, nor was he surprised to see that this individual’s uniform matched his in color scheme.

"Not if you’re a Super Nova," the Andorian sparred, his voice hinting of offense.

"Lieutenant..." the Human hesitated as he saw the ornate medallion on the Andorian’s jacket strap, "...Commander Thorrell," he finished, setting his mouth slightly downward, but nodding his approval. "So, Starfleet still promotes insubordinate curds."

"As long as they prove themselves in battle," Thorrell returned, "Yes," the Andorian paused taking in all the insignia on the Human’s uniform, before continuing. "I see they still promote Reggies to positions of authority, and give them commands of starships as well."

The Human commander didn’t take offense at the reference to the fact that he’d gotten his commission through the regular channels of Starfleet instead of through the accelerated Nova program, as had Thorrell. "Yes, as long as they prove themselves in battle."

Glad to see you again, ah..." the Andorian paused his gaze taking in the Human’s rank. "Commander Shaun Kelsey."

The two approached till they were nearly toe-to-toe, smiles gracing both their faces, gazes holding each other’s.

Kelsey slowly extended his hand. "It’s good to see you Thorrell."

Thorrell grabbed Kelsey’s arm at the forearm, shoving his forearm into Kelsey’s hand. "A warrior’s hand shake, Reggie."

"A warrior’s hand shake, Nova," Kelsey returned, grabbing tightly to the Andorian’s forearm.

Then they grabbed each other in a fierce embrace—warrior to warrior, both glad to see that the other had survived.

After what seemed forever, Kelsey broke free, returning to his reverie at the portal. He noted the snake was almost completely obliterated from the starship’s skin and there was only the central photon station left. It was already denuded of its reptilian decoration. "Thank you for accepting my invitation."

"Like I had anything else to do?" Thorrell responded.

"You have plenty to do," Kelsey said, not pulling his gaze from the starship outside the portal. "I read your personnel record."

"Pfft," Thorrell came out with an atypical sound for an Andorian, though common among Humans who want to play down a situation. "All in a Nova day’s work, Reggie."

Kelsey turned to see Thorrell right behind him. "I suppose. How’s your...?" Kelsey asked, referring to the wound Thorrell had received during the first landing party the two of them had been on together.

"That little scratch?" Thorrell countered. "It’s nothing."

"Being run through with a Romulan spear isn’t anything to discount," Kelsey said, putting his hand on the Andorian’s shoulder.

"It didn’t hit anything vital," Thorrell continued. "Now if it hadn’t gone all the way through and those spider barbs had released into my innards... Now that would have been a wound to talk about."

Kelsey smiled, his gaze meeting and holding with Thorrell’s. "I suppose."

"And your wounds?"

"Still carry them with pride, Nova. Never did, or wanted to, have them removed by the good doctor."

"Me, too." Thorrell answered, his gaze going past Kelsey to look out the portal. "That her?"

"That’s her."

"She’s not as pretty as you described her," the Andorian commented, pulling a long face.

Kelsey noted that Thorrell’s gaze was switching to the ship in the next berth as well, but they didn’t linger long. He turned and stared out the portal as well, noting that all remnants of the snake were gone, replaced already by the traditional Starfleet white. "Not any more she isn’t." He pulled out a holo-vid he had taken this morning before the re-fit had begun and handed it Thorrell. "But she had been not too long ago."

Thorrell whistled his appreciation for what he was seeing, another entirely un-Andorian reaction. "Appearance was as deadly as her record."

Kelsey always felt a bit uncomfortable when someone referred to, even in the slightest of ways, to his record as a starship commander. "Well, I guess," he said just under his breath.

"You still don’t know how to wear your medals, Shaun," Thorrell said, handing the holo-vid back, not looking at all uncomfortable with using his superior officer’s first name.

"A weakness, I suppose," Kelsey responded, lapsing into a long period of thought. "So," he said after awhile. "Does the fact that you’re here mean you’ve accepted my offer?"

"As if you had to ask, Reggie," Thorrell answered in a voice full of bravado, a tone he normally had. "How could I resist?"

"It doesn’t promise to match anything we’ve experienced so far," Kelsey added. "Heck, look what they’re putting on her right now, and you’ll know what our next mission will be." As he pointed out the portal, the first sensor station floated harmlessly near the place on the ship’s transiting stanchion where only an hour ago had held a photon battery.

"Well," Thorrell said with a growl, "life can’t always be on the edge."

Kelsey turned to face Thorrell. "That’s not quite what I expected from a Super Nova."

"It’s all this contact with Reggies. After a while you can’t help but have some of it rub off. Besides, I’m not getting any younger you know."

"Me, either," Kelsey said, his gaze locking with Thorrell’s once again. "We’re going to have our work cut out for us, Number One," he said, adding the nickname given to first officers throughout the fleet. "A ship straight out of re-fit, practically brand new again, and a crew almost as green."

"I noted that," Thorrell said, bringing his hand up to his chin in thought. "That isn’t standard practice in Starfleet. Why did they do that with her?"

"We were one of the last to return from the mop-up operations," Kelsey responded matter-of-factly. "Except for a few replacements we required over time, I had the same crew that was aboard at the end of the war."

"Well overdue, then. It’s been seven years."

"Exactly," Kelsey concluded, and then sighed. "I’m going to miss them all. It was a very emotional farewell party."

"There you are," came a female’s voice from behind them.

Both officers turned to see who had arrived and saw a female Human in a Starfleet officer’s uniform, trimmed in the science sections deep blue. Kelsey smiled, but Thorrell responded first.

"Can we help you, Lieutenant Commander?"

"You must be Thorrell," she responded as she approached. "Shaun has said so much about you." Her full attention went to Kelsey as her gaze left the confused Andorian. "Have any of the rest responded yet?"

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Commander," Thorrell began, his voice filled with forthcoming retribution.

Kelsey held up his right hand, cutting his new first officer off. "I believe introductions are in order," he said without looking at Thorrell, his gaze reserved only for her. "Commander, this is Lieutenant Commander Thorrell. He has accepted my offer to become my new first officer. Commander, this is Lieutenant Commander Arlene Williams, my science officer, and..." He paused, leaning forward to give her a light kiss on the lips, then pulled back to take her in with his gaze. "...my wife."

"Kerrr-aaa," Thorrell exploded, anger filling his voice. "Of all the...what ever happened to..." He paced away from the couple.

"Thorrell," Kelsey said, with no idea what was going to happen next. He positioned himself for the worse, feeling Williams do the same right next to him. "What’s the problem?"

Thorrell stopped on the far side of the room, staring at the wall like he could somehow make it form a doorway if he stared hard enough. A growl he’d learned from a Caitian officer some years back escaped from his throat, though it made it ache. Then, pivoting hard, he stalked back toward the couple, heading straight for Williams. He bore down on her until there was only the smallest of margins between them.

Kelsey saw the intensity of the Andorian’s expression. His gut said to intervene, but he had an arrangement with Arlene. He could still hear her demand "Don’t you ever try to protect me from circumstances that are inevitable in Starfleet, Shaun. Promise, or no marriage. Deal?" That didn’t mean he would stand by if this got ugly.

"Are there any kits?"

"What?" Williams whispered, breaking contact with the Andorian’s intense gaze for just a moment to steal a questioning glance at Kelsey.

Kelsey was completely at a loss.

Thorrell relaxed just a bit. "Is she a Reggie, too?" He didn’t let his gaze leave Williams’ face, though the question was aimed at Kelsey.

"Yes," Kelsey stammered, then steadied as he realized what was going on. "Of course. Do you think I’d get so close to a Super Nova? And to answer your question...no."

"What?" Williams managed to say a second later only to find herself wrapped up in the Andorian’s powerfully strong embrace.

"I like her," Thorrell said as he let her go.

"Lieutenant Commander," Williams blustered as she straight-armed her way back from him, "if you ever..." Her murderous gaze said the rest.

"Oh, and a strong spirit as well," Thorrell jested, his face breaking into a big smile. "It’s a good thing you found her first, Shaun."

"You were right," Williams said, turning only her head to talk to Kelsey, remaining ready to fend off any more unwanted attention from Thorrell. "He’s not like any other Andorian I’ve met before."

"Which makes him all the more valuable, don’t you think, Arlene?" Kelsey said, appreciating how she looked when her ire was up. "And ‘kits’ is the Andorian term for children."

"I knew that," Williams blustered. "We," she continued, pointing first to Kelsey, then to herself, "don’t believe children have a place on board a starship. Nor do we believe it okay for children to be brought up by surrogate parents, lightyears away. I’m," she assumed a relaxed fighting position, "not ready to give up my career yet."

"On Andor, mated females—" Thorrell never got a chance to finish.

"Remain barefoot and pregnant, and at home," Williams interrupted. "Well this is not Andor, Lieutenant Commander Thorrell, and don’t you forget it." Her green eyes blazed with emotion.

Thorrell stepped in very close, all of a sudden serious and foreboding. "I won’t, Commander, and you are hedging very close to disrespect and insubordination to your new executive officer."

Kelsey knew how hard it was to tell when Thorrell was serious and when he was pulling something cute. Even he was having a hard time reading the Andorian right now. He did know one thing from experience and that was how serious Arlene was about this subject as she unflinchingly stood her ground.

"Excuse me," came a youthful male voice from the doorway. "I’m supposed to be attending a meeting with the senior bridge crew of the Fer D’Lance?"

Kelsey glanced toward the door and saw a tall, dark-haired lieutenant with the yellow piping of Engineering on his uniform. "You’ve come to the right place, Lieutenant. Come on in."

"Yes, sir, but am I interrupting something important?"

The officer looked familiar to Kelsey, but he didn’t know from where. Obviously the man was still very young, or one of those fortunate few who took their adolescent gangliness far into their adult life. "Nah, just a couple of friends introducing themselves to each other."

"With that kind of energy, I could fuel a starship clear across the quadrant."

Kelsey stole a glance over toward Thorrell and Williams and noted that they were no longer glaring at each other, but were actually standing next to each other, relaxed and waiting to be introduced. Okay, he thought. "And who might you be, sir?"

"You don’t recognize me, do you, Commander?"

"I do, but I don’t remember from where. I do know it’s been a long time."

"Twelve years to be exact. I still have the hover-board that got me in so much trouble with Mister Scott."

"Ghilar? Ghilar Stronton?"

"Lieutenant Stronton, reporting as ordered, sir," the youthful officer put away the tricorder he’d obviously been entering data into only moments earlier and assumed a position with his feet shoulder width apart, his hands folded behind the small of his back.

"Relax, Lieutenant, and come in," Kelsey ordered as he gestured for the youth to come in. "How are your parents and the farm?"

Stronton stepped closer and accepted Kelsey’s proffered handshake. "Doing just fine the last I heard from them, sir. They were just finishing the second season and the yield had been good."

"Good, good," Kelsey answered, turning toward the other two officers in the room. "Lieutenant Ghilar Stronton, this is," he indicated with his open hand, "Lieutenant Commander Thorrell, my first officer, and Lieutenant Commander Arlene Williams, my chief science officer." He purposely left off the other distinction. Stronton would undoubtedly find out the rest soon enough.

"He’s a young Reggie," Thorrell said and then was cut off from saying anything else by an indignant Stronton.

"You watch who you’re calling a Reggie, I’m a Super..."

"Nova!" Thorrell piped in with Stronton. "That explains the rank and youth at the same time." He turned to Kelsey, "I like your choices, sir." Putting his arm across the young officer’s shoulders, they turned together, already deep in conversation about things only two Nova graduates could be familiar with.

"Only one left," Williams voice sounded from his side as Kelsey watched Thorrell and Stronton walk toward the other side of the room. "Do you think he’s coming?"

"I don’t know," Kelsey responded, turning to look into her green eyes. "Of all the three invitations I sent out, his was the one I wasn’t sure about since he’s one of the few from the old crew I thought I could snag. I haven’t heard from him. Have you?"

"Nothing, and I just checked the sub-space log for messages."

"You don’t think the offer of a commission insulted him do you?"

"He was pretty proud of being a chief petty officer," Williams answered. "I don’t know. Would it matter if he accepted the position, but declined the promotion?"

"Not to me, but Starfleet might object."

"So when did that bother you?"

"Hmph," Kelsey countered with, then saw the shadow of a large person coming up the hall well before the Tellarite actually entered the room. "He came," Kelsey said, gratified.

Hrisherisch busted into the room snorting, his small, porcine eyes sparking with emotion. "You son of a sow from the last teat, how dare you!"

Kelsey ignored the obvious insubordination in the Tellarite’s words, knowing they were the polite speech of his species. "I dare much, you sow-less wonder. You have a wallow, and all the food you can eat, and you still complain?"

"Of course," Hrisch snorted, still coming forward, but with a three fingered—two that somewhat resembled an elongated cloven hoof, opposed by a third, shorter equivalent—hand offered in the traditional Human greeting. "And how do you fair, sir?" he said, his tone changing, softening.

"Can’t complain, Chief," Kelsey responded, accepting the handshake and returning firmness for firmness. "Doesn’t do any good anyway."

"Oh, but it does," Hrisch retorted. "It does one good to get it out in the open."

"Same ol’ chief," Kelsey replied, then brought his head as close as was polite for the Tellarite. "Does this mean you’ve accepted the assignment?" he said in a tone just above a whisper.

"Let’s see her," Hrisch responded back a little louder, the physiology of his mouth and throat not allowing for anything softer.

Kelsey led him to the portal, indicating the now denuded starship.

Hrisch took a long look, then snorted derisively. "Isn’t that a shame."

"Yes," Kelsey answered.

"Nothing like what she looked like when I went on liberty a couple days ago," Hrisch continued, but not allowing his gaze to leave the starship in the yard. "They’ve pulled her tusks. This isn’t the same ship."

"Did you read the history of the corvette class while you were assigned to her before?"

"Yes, I know," Hrisch brought his three digited hand to his slightly protruding jaw area. "They were designed as deep space scout ships, but," he added, making eye contact with Kelsey, "we did so much better with them during the war."

"I will miss her hull figure," Kelsey sighed.

"The snake?" Hrisch snorted, expressing his kind’s hatred for all serpents. "She’ll look cleaner this way."

"She is named after a serpent," Thorrell said from behind the Tellarite.

Hrisch’s entire attitude changed as he turned to face the source of that statement. "Well, I’ll be wallow dung and thrown into the fields, if it isn’t the Nova piglet that somehow managed to get himself shish-kabobbed."

"I would say you’re only one step from being the best part of a ham and eggs breakfast," Thorrell returned, mimicking Tellarite polite speech.

"Well, I guess you must have learned something since the last time I saw you, strung out on Doctor McCoy’s table, looking like a refugee from some piglet’s bug collection, you’re still standing."

"Yes, I have learned," Thorrell returned, softening his stance now that the formalities were over.

"And you, sire of a hundred litters, trying to be the father of your race, how are you?"

"I don’t think Starfleet will give me the time to live up to that claim, but I try," Hrisch grabbed the proffered hand and then pulled the Andorian into a mighty hug. "Glad to see you."

"And, me, too," Thorrell said as he tried to breathe, though his ribs protested.

"So," Hrisch said after releasing Thorrell. "What is your place here?"

"First Officer," Thorrell answered, standing taller.

Hrisch turned to Kelsey. "Will his antennae fit through the door after this?"

Kelsey snorted, trying to mimic Tellarite responses, "I think so." He then turned to introduce the other two officers in the room. "I think you know the rest as well."

Hrisch turned to Stronton first, but didn’t recognize him. "I don’t think I know this little piglet."

"Sure you do, Chief," Stronton stepped in.

Hrisch’s mouth dropped open as he started to make the connection. "No,"

"Yes, Chief."

"The little whelp with the hover-board?"

"One and only."

"But you can’t be old..."

Thorrell stepped up next to Stronton, and they chorused. "Super Nova!"

Hrisch turned to Kelsey. "Will we survive two of them on the same ship?"

Kelsey again snorted then turned to the final member present. "I think you know my chief science officer."

"Ah, yes, Ms. Williams," Hrisch said, his voice changing, becoming softer. "He spent so much time with you in my torpedo battery."

"What?"

"All by himself," Hrisch snorted, then laughed.

"Daydreaming, Commander," Kelsey said, trying to explain, but knew by the look on Arlene’s face that it wasn’t over. "Off-line, okay? Later."

"You bet you will, sir."

"Sir?" The word exploded from the weapons chief’s mouth. "This kind of respect is normal between the sexes on Tellar. Coming from a Human female’s mouth? Never heard it before."

Williams waited for the Tellarite to stop the snorting that translated to laughter before setting him straight. "He’s the commander of the ship."

"Ah, I see," Hrisch finally got out, his look of mirth changing quickly when he saw how serious she had become, adding, "Of course. As it should be...sir."

"And the second part of my invitation?" Kelsey asked. "Does one so foul and without even the dignity of a wallow to call home accept a commission?"

"And sink deeper into a pit slime and gooh? Not in yours, or my, life, sir. I’m proud of my grade and will not have any other," Hrisch answered, the fur on the back of his neck bristled.

"Well, I guess I can’t have everything, Chief," Kelsey said, lowering his voice a bit. "But you do understand that in order for you to become a member of the bridge crew, you have to be commissioned ‘officially,’ but as far as I’m concerned, you’ll always be a ‘chief.’"

"Yes, of course, sir, and I thank you."

"Now," Kelsey raised the volume of his voice, " I believe we have a reason for being here? Let’s get this initial briefing under way. We’ve a lot of work to do before she," he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, "is ready for deep space again. Then I’ve got an appointment with Admiral Gragrar of Starfleet Operations. I guess he wants to go over our new mission parameters."

Hrisch showed how impressed he was with this with a disgusting snort, but it was Thorrell who made the first comment. "Doesn’t sound good, Commander," Thorrell said, suspicion shading his voice.

"No, it doesn’t, but it doesn’t do any good to worry either. Enough of this small talk," Kelsey made it apparent that was all he wanted to talk along those lines. "She," he pointed at the ship outside the portal, "has many problems that action and time away from a space dock has created." He continued the briefing, but his mind kept mulling over what Gragrar could want.

*****

"More power to the transport buffer, or we’ll lose her pattern for good," Transporter Chief Rion hissed, as he punched buttons on the suddenly berserk console in front of him. As if it wasn’t already too loud, the whine of conflicting and resisting electronics added another layer to its symphony, then there was a flash of an exploding circuit from the wall nearby. With a snap the carrier beam changed from its normal blue hue, to green, then to a sickly yellow.

"You mean we haven’t already?" Williams yelled, trying to be heard over the electrical white noise of a transporter gone haywire.

"No," Rion yelled back. "I can’t explain why, but she’s still in there."

Williams left the console, ran to a grill on a nearby wall, and pulled it free. With knowing swiftness, she yanked microcircuit boards and replaced them in a new pattern on the motherboard. Soon there was a new hum added to what was already deafening. "If that doesn’t do it," she yelled a moment later, "I don’t know what will." Stepping back to the console, she entered a new routine and initiated it. "Try to get her out now!"

Without responding, Rion slid the power bar to full and initiated the re-materialization circuit. A humanoid shape began to form. As suddenly as it had gone awry, the transporter shifted and began to function within Starfleet parameters. The carrier beam returned to its normal blue haze and the transport completed itself, leaving its passenger on the raised platform.

The room immediately filled with a scent as a green-skinned woman fell to the deck, her clothes literally disintegrating from her form.

"Jeez," Rion exhaled as he instantly reacted to what was kneeling there.

"What happened to her uniform, Rion?" Williams asked, unaware at first of Rion’s typical male reaction. "What happened to..." she repeated, then looked over to see why Rion wasn’t responding and found him staring mesmerized at the naked female, who seemed almost delirious.

She slammed her hand on the comlink on the wall. "Transporter Room One to Sickbay. We have a medical emergency!"

Orion females were always problems on Federation ships. Before the inclusion of the Barrier Alliance into the Federation, they were found only as slaves on pleasure planets, or as entertainment for the Orion men on pirate ships. It wasn’t unusual to find Orion males in Starfleet—space travel was not new to them—but an Orion female, now that was unusual. As a crewmember, they were more disruptive to the typical male population on a Federation starship than even a Deltan. The Deltan empathic abilities of both their male and female populations was provocative, it was, after all, a learned response. An Orion female body exuded every pheromone in the humanoid sexual library, crossing just about every species boundary in its effect. As long as the affected species was sexual in its reproductive manners—having male and female—the Orion female would affect the male, whether he wanted to, or not.

Having experienced this troubling problem with Elasian females and their addictive tears, the Federation knew how to combat it. If an Orion female managed to break free from that society’s extremely chauvinistic culture to join Starfleet, they were required to take medication, which stopped their body’s natural emanation of pheromone. Something obviously had happened to that mechanism during the faulty transport.

Williams noted the light scent in the air. "Lieutenant Rion, you are dismissed." He was useless in his present state and didn’t even start to react to her commands. Knowing he would fight her if she tried to man-handle him out the door, and that she stood no chance of managing that with her petite frame, she decided to try something else. Hitting the intercom, she opened an inter-ship channel.

"This is Sickbay," came the disembodied female voice of Doctor Shakura, the Fer D’Lance’s chief medical officer.

"Prepare to receive an intraship transport!"

"Nature of medical problem?" Shakura asked, her voice filled with the accent of someone who grew up on Earth’s India sub-continent.

"Transporter malfunction."

"And the subject is still alive?" Her tone was incredulous.

"Oh, yes," Williams answered, "very much so." She noted Rion moving out from behind the transporter console, his eyes glazed over, his face sporting a silly grin. She chuckled at the sight. I’ll get a holo-snap of it, and show it to him after he recovers, but for now... "Doctor, the transporter has stripped subject of her clothes and apparently her hormone control medication."

"I don’t understand how this is a medical emergency, Commander."

"She’s Orion, Doc."

"Oh," Shakura responded, deep understanding shading her voice. "Stand-by while I clear Sickbay of males. I’ll signal you when I’m ready."

Williams heard the door to the transporter room open and saw a corridor filled with male crewmen of several different species, all wearing the same stupid grin Rion was displaying, and all trying to get through the door at the same time. "Hurry up, Doc! This is getting real kinky, real fast."

The Orion wasn’t reacting normal either. Instead of the appreciative leer most Orion fems took on at the prospect of what was about to happen, she instead began to look panicked. Crouching, she took on a defensive posture, her gaze darting right and left as she tried to find an escape route. Rion mounted the platform and reached out for her. She deftly broke his arm for him, then kicked out, catching him smartly between the legs. At first, he only reacted with a grunt, his now wide-open eyes the only thing showing the surprise he felt. Finally, the pain reached his hormone-fogged mind, and he collapsed into a fetal position on the floor.

Williams opened the arms locker behind the console and took out a phaser. Setting it to its lowest level and on its widest projection angle, she ran to the platform, put herself between the Orion and the crowd of males and fired. As expected, they went down in a tumble. This was only temporary as she saw more coming in the corridor. Jumping over the tangle of bodies, she cleared the door of an unconscious Human. The door automatically shut. "Computer, Intruder Alert: Transporter Room One. Activate Security Lock on door." She heard a satisfying clank of locking bars within the mechanism, then returned to the control console before trying to find the Orion. The green female was backed all the way up to the transporter wall, fiercely staring at Rion, who, despite the pain that had him doubled over, was still trying to pull himself closer. Williams readjusted the phaser back to its normal stream and stunned him as well.

"Sickbay is ready, Commander," Shakura announced over the intercom.

"Stand-by, I’ve got to get her onto a pad and the rest off."

"The rest?"

"I must have twenty male crewmen phaser-stunned on the floor at this time."

"I’ll send a medical team to tend to them as well."

Williams dragged two stunned bodies off the platform. "Now for the hard part," she murmured as she faced the Orion, whose body language still screamed last defense. "Calm yourself," Williams said, using the tone of her voice to convey the message as well. "It’s over now."

The Orion relaxed, allowing herself to stand up straight from the crouch of a moment earlier.

She is beautiful, thought Williams as she removed her uniform jacket and offered it to the Orion. It wouldn’t be enough to cover all the female’s assets, but it would serve to make her more comfortable. "I am Lieutenant Commander Williams, Chief Science Officer of this ship. Are you all right, Ensign?" she purposely left off the name that Starfleet HQ had sent her prior to the transport in order to discern the female’s state of mind.

"What...what..?" the Orion’s facial features changed from aggression to a question.

"Don’t know yet," Williams answered the obvious question. "But first thing, first. Could you step onto this platform?"

"Why?"

Williams was a bit surprised by the Orion fem’s question. "Look around you. Have you no idea what caused this?"

"They are animals," she nearly spat as her gaze scanned the bodies all around the platform.

"Agreed," Williams said, then chuckled, " but for now, I think we need to get you to Sickbay."

"Can’t we just walk?" the Orion asked, her face changing to one of concern as she looked at the proffered platform. "I’m not sure I want to go through that again."

"Understandable, but..." She swept the scene with her hand. "We would have to phaser the entire male population to do it."

"Why?"

She must be suffering from amnesia as well if she really doesn’t know why, Williams thought as this question set off warning alarms in her mind. Orion females may not be considered by many to be very smart, considering their usual circumstance, but only a fool would believe they are unaware of their effect on males and what causes it. "Let’s just say it will be quicker this way, and leave it at that. Please, step to the platform." The Orion allowed herself to be led to the nearest circle on the floor. "Do you know your name, Ensign?"

"Ry..." the Orion started, then her gaze went blank as she tilted her head. "I don’t know. Do you?"

"Transport manifest says..." Williams walked back to the console and read what had been sent. "Torval Q’stor." Now why did she initially start to say Ry? Williams asked herself. That isn’t even close to her real name. This warrants an additional comment on the incident report.

"Torval Q’stor?" the Orion mouthed, her face screwed around with the question.

She even has trouble pronouncing it. Interesting, Williams thought as she brought the transporter back on-line and noted it seemed to be operating at maximum efficiency again. Interesting indeed. "Sickbay, prepare for Ensign Q’stor’s arrival."

"Ready," came Shakura’s response.

"Transport sequence beginning." Williams watched as Q’stor quickly disappeared in a shower of energy. "Do you have her, Sickbay?"

"Affirmative, Transporter Room One. Safe, sound and..." There was a pause, "...potent. Recommend you instruct the computer to set life support to screen out this pheromone. Even with that, I am going to recommend to Commander Thorrell that he adjust the duty schedule in that room, as well as Sickbay, so that only female crew members are present for a couple of days. I doubt a male could function well enough to get anything done in the mean time."

"Agreed," Williams answered, nodding her head absent-mindedly at the same time. "I’ll confirm that request as well."

"What’s her specialty?"

Williams scanned the transport manifest and pulled up the Starfleet orders assigning her to the Fer D’Lance—Medical Department, Physical Conditioning. Why doesn’t that surprise me? Williams thought. "Well, Doc, she belongs to your section as the physical training and conditioning officer."

"Phew," Shakura whistled from her end. "I can see how we’ll have no problem getting half the crew to their scheduled work out sessions, but it won’t help the female half. Well, Ensign Q’stor will be ready for duty shortly. Though I’m not sure the crew is ready for her—pheromones, or not."

"Agreed."

*****

"Do you understand your mission, Commander?" Admiral Gragrar asked, his presentation completed.

Kelsey felt the honor of being personally presented the mission parameters by Starfleet’s Chief of Operations. Kelsey knew from past experience that Gragrar had been working his way through the admiralty’s staff ranks for quite some time. "Six months ago I would have jumped at this mission," Kelsey said, responding to what he’d just heard from Gragrar. "Shoot, even up to two weeks ago I’d have asked ‘what for’ already half way there, but that was before they pulled the Fer D’Lance’s teeth and made her into a science vessel."

"Never the less, that is your assignment, Commander," the Tellarite admiral responded, the emotional warmth of his voice at absolute zero. "The Fer D’Lance is not an issue for this mission."

Now what does that mean? Kelsey thought as he heard the last part of the admiral’s comment. "Let me see if I’ve got this straight," Kelsey continued, trying to be cordial, a failing of personality, but still there, nonetheless. "You want me to scout out the region of space near Beta Lacertae, near where a Tholian outpost was found before the Kelvan arrival."

"You got it."

"And what if we find Tholian colonies there?"

"Survey the extent of their expansion and report back."

"Is that all?"

"No."

Kelsey sat up straighter in the chair.

Gragrar handed him a data chip.

"Can I read it now?"

"Of course," the Tellarite admiral grunted. "Why else would I give it to you now?"

What could he possibly mean by that? he thought as he slipped the data crystal into the personal reader all Starfleet officers carried on them.

"No. No. No! No!! NO!!! Sir! I must protest!"

"Protest?"

"Yes, sir."

"Protest what, Commander?" Gragrar didn’t like being surprised. It always invoked strong emotions in Tellarites, usually a fight or flight reaction.

Kelsey kept reading. There was line after line of orders that were absolutely contrary to what he’d been planning on. "Protest this," he said, then remembered to add, "sir. Do you know how many hours we—?"

"Of course, Commander."

"But, sir," Kelsey cried as he got to his feet.

"At ease, Commander," the admiral said, putting every nuance of authority his porcine voice could carry.

"Sir," Kelsey said, coming to the position of attention.

Gragrar stood and came out from behind his desk and faced Kelsey. "I have never, in my entire career seen an officer as contrary as what you just demonstrated. Not even a Tellarite such as myself would act as childish as you are. I’m aware that Humans are not Vulcans, but get a grip on yourself, son."

"But, sir?" he stopped short as Gragrar brought his finger up between them.

"What exactly are you upset about? Your promotion?"

"No, sir. I’ve felt deserving of it for some time."

"Then it’s the complimentary promotion of your senior officers that bothers you?"

"No, sir. They’re all as deserving as I am."

"Then, I suppose you have a problem with commanding a larger compliment of crew?"

"No, sir. I can handle anything Starfleet throws at me."

"Except this one thing," the admiral said, relaxing a bit.

"I guess so, sir. It’s not about me, sir. It’s what Starfleet is doing to the Lance."

"Oh, I see," Gragrar answered, turning away from Kelsey and walking back around the desk. "Pride of first command. I can honestly say I know exactly what you’re talking about." He paused for only a moment, an unfocused look to his eyes as he remembered the occasion. "Be at ease, Commander, and sit back down."

"Yes, sir, but...?"

Gragrar silenced him with a swipe of his hand. "Though initially designed as deep exploration ships, the corvette saw its first and best place as a warship. Pound for pound, not even a dreadnought could match it."

"Exactly, sir, that’s why I don’t understand."

"They’re not big enough..."

"Sir, we heard that argument before. Sure they can’t take a lot of punishment, but you can’t hit what you can’t see."

Gragrar waited patiently for Kelsey to finish, then continued, "Please, Commander, will you let me finish?"

Kelsey sank down in his chair, realizing what he’d done wrong. "I apologize, sir."

"It’s not about that, Commander. I agree that they are one of the finest warships ever created by Starfleet’s space docks, and, yes, someday, we might need such a pure warship again. We don’t need them right now. The problem with their size is that they don’t have enough room for the amenities necessary to keep a crew mentally healthy for the long tedium of a standard exploration mission. Can you imagine spending the time necessary for a long trip, without any contact with other Starfleet vessels, or facilities, in a corvette?"

"Sir, I’ve just logged seven years in command of that corvette. She deserves better than this." Kelsey sighed, and felt defeat creep into his thoughts. "During the war, we always had other ships with us. We never had a moment to spend with daily routine. You could never predict what would happen next. After the war, for six years we did all these mop up missions."

"But you were usually part of a task force or group, Commander. If I recall correctly, you were usually not even in command of these assignments."

"No, I wasn’t. I usually had to answer to folks like Captain Shoop of the Saratoga, or Captain Jawalahara of the Yorktown."

"Sherrie’s a sweetie, and Sandy is the biggest asshole in Starfleet," Gragrar grunted. "He makes me look like Saint Jude." He grunted again. "But for this assignment, you need a bigger ship, Commander. Much bigger."

Then a new thought brightened Kelsey’s mood. "So what ship am I getting?"

"It’s in the orders, Commander. Didn’t you read them all the way through? Or did you decide to lop off my ears and trotters without reading them?"

Kelsey fell silent as he finished the orders. "The Chosin, sir? For a moment, the name meant nothing to Kelsey, then he remembered the ship that had been berthed next to the Lance not more than an hour ago and he felt adrenaline’s excitement burn through his arteries. "The Chosin, sir?!"

"Constellation-class fast cruiser. This one’s fresh out of the oven, I’m told. It will be large enough to suite our purposes. Commodore Po has tried very hard to reserve command of them to the corvette commanders whose ships were being de-commissioned."

"Fast cruiser, my hiney," Kelsey muttered under his breath. "I know I counted six phaser batteries on her primary and four photon torpedo launchers on her warp engine pylons."

"The Chosin has extensive facilities designed particularly for situations found during deep space exploration," Gragrar responded to Kelsey’s observation. "The weapons, as you know, are for self defense only."

Forgot about the sensitivity of Tellarite hearing, thought Kelsey. Not quite as good as a Vulcan’s, but still far better than that of a Human. "Of course, sir. As per policy." Kelsey felt the first glow of pride brighten his demeanor. "Wow," he whispered.

"I thought you’d appreciate that, commander. Or should I say? Captain?" Gragrar clasped his hooves in front of him and waited. This time he felt he had the Human figured right. "That is, if you accept the command?" His head cocked a little and his dark eyes almost twinkled.

Kelsey was lost in an internal viewing of his new command when he realized what the admiral had just said. "What? Oh, yeah, of course, sir. I accept!"

"She’s brand-new and will need work before she’s ready for deep space."

"No problem, sir. I’ve got the best crew in the fleet. We’ll get her space worthy in no time."

"I have no doubts about that, Captain. Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." Kelsey turned sharply and left the office, then turned back. "Ah, sir?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Do any of the rest know?"

"No, I thought we’d leave that to you, Captain. Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes, Admiral?"

"We’ll have a formal presentation when we officially decommission the Fer D’Lance and commission the Chosin tomorrow. Do you think you can have all the protocol and amenities ready by then?"

"I think so, sir."

"SpaceDock has already begun modifying the Lance for her new owners. The Hawking Institute intends to use her for exploration of black holes. They’re pulling out the weapons systems and putting in a bunch of sensor packages."

"I saw that, sir. We’ll keep out of their way," Kelsey said, his mind already churning through the new details that would have to be seen to before all this could happen. "Can I see the Chosin today, sir. Sort of like a sneak preview of things to come?"

"Cleared through SpaceDock Security already. All you have to do is pay their office a visit. They already have all the orders necessary to change over her command codes to you." Gragrar shifted his attention from the work on his BellComm’s viewscreen to Kelsey. "Very good, Captain. Now, get out of here. I have better things to do than answer your questions and put up with your insubordination today."

The fact that his attention immediately shifted back to the computer told Kelsey the meeting was over. He was about to leave when the admiral began to say something else. He snorted and cleared his throat.

"Yes, sir?"

"Have her ready for inspection in two weeks."

"I don’t know, sir. I can’t accurately predict that until my engineer and I have a chance to look her over."

"Was that a question I put to you, Captain? You will have her ready for inspection and a shakedown cruise in two weeks."

"Yes, sir!" Kelsey acknowledged the order.

*****

"What?!" Thorrell roared, his voice echoing off the inner bulkheads of the Lance’s single shuttle bay.

"She’s being decommissioned and turned over to the Hawking Institute," Kelsey repeated to the same assembly of senior officers he’d only for the first time brought together earlier in the day. He was having a hard time maintaining the dramatic mask he’d assumed the moment he’d entered the ship. All the way back from Starfleet Headquarters, he’d debated how he would break the bittersweet news.

He looked at the faces around him. Thorrell’s was by far the most volatile, but except for Williams’, the rest were showing varying degrees of distress. Most likely from the unknown of what was going to happen next, Kelsey thought. Arlene knows I have something up my sleeve, I bet. He’d learned from experience that he could hide nothing from her. Sometimes I think the Vulcans are rubbing off on us Humans. We’re starting to display many of their characteristics, his thoughts meandered.

"So what are we going to do?" Stronton offered.

"Yes, what is going to happen to us?" Thorrell added the strength of his voice to that question.

Except for a snort from Chief Hrisch, the rest were silent.

"We do as we’re ordered," Kelsey’s voice remained stern.

Cutting off any further disrespectful questions, Kelsey pulled out his communicator and opened a channel. "Transporter Room Two," he paused to study the effect of his command on their faces and was not disappointed. "Energize."

Everyone in the shuttle bay disappeared into a haze of transporter energy.

Kelsey saw a slight shift of surroundings through the blue, shimmering fog that now surrounded him. As his vision cleared, he noted that except for the circle of white light they all now stood in, the surroundings were pitch black. He knew they were still in a shuttle bay, the smallest research bay of his new command. As he’d planned, the rest of his company would be kept ignorant for a moment more. The transporter had put them dead center of the circle of light. He saw the surprise and curiosity on all their faces, including Arlene’s. What impressed him more was that there was not one sign of fear. "This is our new home for the next, say, five to ten years."

"Where is here, sir?" Thorrell asked, none too awed by what his commander had just done.

Good, thought Kelsey, they’re already accepting that I would not bring them to a worse situation. Putting his hand held transmitter away, he addressed the air around him. "Computer."

The female voice that every Starfleet computer used to communicate to the carbon-based units that rode the ships they serviced, answered the call. "Computer on-line. Voice pattern recognized: Kelsey, Shaun, Captain, Starfleet, ship’s commander."

"Voice pick-up?" came one querying voice.

"What ship is this?" came another.

"No more looking for an intercom?" Thorrell enthusiastically piped in. "Great!"

"Captain?" came a familiar female voice within the group.

Kelsey found the source of the voice and saw the look of pride Lieutenant Commander Williams was giving him. He nodded slightly to her, then continued his command. "Computer, bring the lights up in Shuttle Bay Delta."

The lights came up illuminating its entirety. They were facing the titanium door that separated the inner bay and the vacuum of the dock area. Written in standard, in the bold letters of Starfleet was the name:

"Chosen," queried Stronton. "As in the chosen, sir?

"No, Ensign, it is pronounced, Cho-sin," Kelsey answered, emphasizing the last syllable of the name. "The history of the name can be found by accessing the computer records on Earth history, twentieth century, United States of America, Korean War, Chosin Reservoir. I leave it up to each and every one of you to look it up and be familiar with the details. You are responsible for disseminating it to the rest of the crew. I doubt very seriously you’ll have any difficulty creating pride in it as the name carries tonnes of honor."

"What kind of ship is it, sir?" Thorrell asked.

"What took you so long?" Kelsey, responded, smirking. "Computer."

"Working."

"Activate viewscreen, Shuttle Bay Delta, and show view from SpaceDock video sensor Epsilon Twenty-Eight."

The viewscreen came on, glowing with the blue and white Federation symbol.

"It better be bigger," Thorrell quipped, then, "By all the shells..." the rest of his epithet was drowned out by the collective intake and sigh of the others.

Kelsey felt an arm slip around his and knew that Arlene had joined him at his side. "She’s beautiful, dear. Thank you."

"For what?" Kelsey responded to her in a voice just loud enough to be heard by her.

"For taking care of us."

"There’s more."

"More?" Williams asked, using a tone of voice she subconsciously knew he might respond to.

"Ah, dear," Kelsey responded, chuckling a little under his breath, "there is always more, but let me have a few secrets." He saw her pout and he touched her cheek. "Don’t worry; you’ll like it."

"I’m not worried," she replied, and removed her arm from his.

Kelsey returned his attention to the screen. The ship...his ship, was the one berthed right next to his old command in space dock. The transport hadn’t been far, almost too short to comply with the minimum distance specified by the manuals. She was a Constellation-class fast cruiser, somewhere in size between the Constitution class heavy—the Enterprise—and the Miranda-class frigate—the Reliant. In one aspect, the Chosin was similar in appearance to the Reliant in that she had only one hull—the saucer-shaped primary hull, which was the trademark of Starfleet. But that was where the resemblance ended.

The Constellation-class had their engineering sections located in a rectangular box that was inserted neatly into the back of the saucer, and they had the warp nacelles attached to stanchions that were located behind the primary hull. Unlike anything else in Starfleet, the Constellation-class had four warp nacelles, in an equi-distant cubic formation, attached two above and two below engineering by T-bar shaped stanchions.

"What kind of matter-antimatter intermix chamber can power that many nacelles?" Doctor Shakura hissed, breathing her question, rather than speaking it.

"It’s not so much larger," Stronton piped in with an answer, "but a more economical use of dilithium and power transfer technologies. You will note that the nacelles themselves are not the same size as the previous standard. Instead, though smaller, they distribute the warp field into a perfect spherical shaped field rather than the flattened ovoid produced by only two. This allows quicker formation, entry into, and withdrawal from sub-space."

Thorrell began breathing hard, almost a pant. His eyes were lidded nearly shut. "Music to my ears. Like a Super...."

"Nova!" Stronton joined Thorrell in completing the statement, exchanging a pattern of hand slapping that was well known between Nova graduates of Starfleet.

"Not only that," Stronton continued after a moment. "It is capable of generating a large enough warp area to allow other ships to enter."

"For rescue missions?" Doctor Shakura offered.

"Well, yes," Stronton answered, pulling his mouth down into a frown, and nodding his head slightly. "We could use this same corridor to transport objects or people to and from another ship at warp, maybe. I hadn’t thought of that use, but it will also allow us to fire phasers at warp speeds if we can just get close enough. I can predict that if we adjust the emitters a bit, we can actually thin and extend the sphere of influence so that we could push it forward to form a sub-space corridor to the target ship and fire our phasers through it."

"Not recommended, Lieutenant Stronton," Kelsey jumped in here, noting that the rest of the senior staff was becoming quite bored with the deep technical talk. "But something to keep in mind, if we should need such tactics on an exploratory mission such as ours."

A porcine snort erupted from the gathering.

"Yes, Chief Hrisch, what is it?" Kelsey acknowledged his tactical officer.

"I can’t see the best part of her, sir. What about her tusks?"

"Teeth, Chief?" Thorrell corrected the Tellarite chief petty officer.

"No, you sty refuse, tusks...weapons...the rest of your teeth are only for grinding and processing. From this angle, I can’t see but two phaser batteries. I know she must have more."

"And why is that, Chief?" Kelsey asked, verbally jumping between the Tellarite, and what his species considered polite speech, and his Andorian first officer, who obviously was taking offense at the same use.

"With all that available power, she must have powerful weapons."

"But we are at peace, Chief. What do we need weapons for?" Kelsey was having fun with his chief weapons officer.

"War, peace," snorted Hrisch, "what difference when you explore the unknown. A first contact does not always result in friends."

"Exactly, Chief, and precisely what I told Admiral Gragrar when he reminded me that the weapons of Starfleet’s starships were strictly defensive. But," Kelsey continued, raising his hand to interrupt a comment from the chief, "you will note that the Chosin is adequately equipped to handle just about any known threat we may have to ‘defend’ against. Computer," Kelsey said, not waiting for a further prod from the impatient Tellarite.

"Working."

"Search the space dock video sensors for the appropriate angles to show and locate the target ship’s offensive weaponry."

The screen changed in response. They were now looking at the ship from above. Three circles of light appeared on the top of the saucer halfway between the bridge dome in the center and the outside edge. Two were equi-distant from the bridge, port and starboard, the upraised dome of the bridge dividing the line between them in half. The third was the same distance from the bridge as the twins on either side, but located along the ships forward lateral center line. There was a red dot at the rear of the port edge of the saucer, near its juncture with engineering as well.

Ignoring the red dot for the moment, Kelsey began his description. "The three white circles locate the three top-side phaser batteries. Each are equipped with two phaser emitters in the standard Starfleet configuration and wattage, with peak power attained by shunting through the matter/anti-matter drive." He looked around to see if there were any questions. Seeing none, he continued. "Next," he said to the computer.

The screen shifted to an angle of view from straight below. Again there were three white circles and the single red dot in the same corresponding positions on the ship, only this time the center of the saucer was pinpointed by the sensor/deflector array. "Three more batteries of the same configuration as the top. Plus you’ve got a mega-phaser turret capable of doubling the firepower of two banks. It’s a carryover from the old Soyuz class. It’s got some limitations, but it’s still rather useful in head to head combat."

"With that kind of pattern we can target four phaser emitters per target?" Williams asked.

"Actually," Hrisch said in his grunting accent, "in most cases we should be able to fire six, except in the case of extreme rearward angles where there would be a narrow blind spot."

"Next," Kelsey asked.

The screen shifted to a sensor right in front of the cruiser. Zooming in, and narrowing its range, it focused on a large, dark open maw located dead center on the horizontal portion of the T-bar stanchion holding the topside warp nacelles.

"Four photon tubes," Kelsey offered before anyone else could do the same. "Two up top, two on the bottom stanchion."

"Larger than standard," Hrisch said, making an observation.

"They are," Kelsey answered. "Though it will still fire the standard Marks One through Six, it will also launch even Heavy Duty Communications Buoys which we’ll need to be able to use to maintain contact with Starfleet from extreme distances. We will also be carrying a new type of photon weapon that requires the larger tube."

"Not the Mark Eights!" Hrisch grunted, sounding more porcine with his excitement.

"Mark Eights, Chief?" Thorrell interjected.

"Haven’t you learned to read yet, piglet?" Hrisch retorted.

"Let me remind you..."

Hrisch glanced quickly at Kelsey, a sharp gleam of glee there. Kelsey knew the Tellarite was thoroughly enjoying the fact that Thorrell was still not used to the ‘polite’ language of Tellarites, and that, like all members of his species, he was going to enjoy teaching this first officer how to accept it. Kelsey once again verbally came between them. "As Hrisch is so politely trying to say, Commander Thorrell, they are in the latest Starfleet technical updates, but their security restrictions are limited to those whose specialty is weapons, and the command crews of ships so equipped."

"Politely?"

"Yes, Thorrell, politely," Kelsey said, then turned to Hrisch. "For the sake of ship unity, Chief, you must refrain from using it until everyone is up to date on it."

Hrisch snorted his derision and the loss of such fun, but then nodded his head. "Yes, sir," then went on to explain in as general terms as he was allowed to do for security reasons. "The Mark Eights have Multiple Vector Warhead capability."

"Which is?" Doctor Shakura volunteered, the blank look of ignorance on her Indian sub-continent face.

"I guess I can’t expect a healer to know this," Hrisch quipped, letting the doctor down easy. "Let’s see, how can I explain this without violating Starfleet security classification regulations." Hrisch stopped and thought for a minute. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Using the fruit called an orange on Earth. It is divided into many sections within the common outer peal."

"Yes, of course," Shakura responded.

"These sections can be broken totally down, each having a smaller quantity of content within it, in case you want a little."

"Yes."

"Or, you can choose to combine any number of sections for more, to include just taking a bite out of the whole thing, and getting it all at once."

"Okay."

"That’s it, Doctor," Hrisch snorted in unbelief that she didn’t get it. "If I make it any clearer I’d have to kill you before you leave this room."

"What?" Shakura sputtered in disbelief.

Hrisch turned and looked at Kelsey. "I even put it in a Human joke, and she still is offended?"

"No, Chief, just give her a moment of thought, and she’ll figure it out, but since you’re all on the command staff now I’ll make it more clear. The Multiple Vector Warhead is a torpedo with multiple warheads inside. We can choose to shoot the torpedo and leave them all together giving the weapon an extremely large wallop, or individually target each warhead, allowing a wide enough spread to take out whole formations of smaller craft all at once."

"Now why didn’t he say that?" Shakura cajoled.

"Boys and their toys," Williams whispered to her sotto voce.

"My real question here is—looking at where the tubes are located, there can’t be much room for the crew that man it, and why would you put someone in such a perilous position? If the warp stanchion gets cut, you’ll lose everyone that mans the crew as well," reasoned Shakura.

"Point well made, Doctor," Kelsey responded, then made eye contact with Hrisch, "I think you can answer this better, Chief."

"I should hope so, piglet," Hrisch responded, continuing with the polite talk when addressing Kelsey. "The actual location for the weapons crew of each of these tubes is in Engineering. Right, here," he pointed to the aft portion of the ship on the screen. "The weapons are taken from here, to the tube’s breech here," he pointed again, "by a complex set of transporter procedures that insures the anti-matter warhead is never left exposed."

"It just sounds like it gives an accident a chance to happen," Shakura added. "What if the transporter’s timing is off?"

"If it’s off by even the slightest amount, the anti-matter will come in contact with the matter surrounding it, and BOOM," Hrisch said, adding dramatic hoof and arm gestures to emphasize his point.

"Sounds pretty precarious to me."

"There are numerous safety protocols in place to prevent it. And there is a mechanical turbolift system that immediately takes over in case the transporter shows the slightest inkling of failure. It’s not as fast, but it will still allow us to fire and at a good rate of speed."

"There is another of these tubes in the bottom stanchion as well. Both have the ability to fire fore and aft." Kelsey added, finishing that line of questions.

"I think with the Multiple Vector Warhead ability, that pretty well fills the blind spot problem, doesn’t it," Thorrell said to Hrisch.

"Yes, sir, they have to get pretty close in that angle to still use it. Not many starships out there small enough to hide there, and we could still vector a standard Mark Six to take care of that."

"What about the red dot?" Williams asked.

Kelsey choose to ignore the question on purpose. "There is one other aspect of this ship that can make her one of the most powerful weapons platform in the fleet."

Silence in the bay told him that he had them fuddled. "Computer."

"Working."

"Show Shuttle Bays."

The screen split into three parts showing the bow, starboard and port sides of the saucer. Huge space doors could be seen located there, with four smaller ones located two each on either side of the port and starboard mains.

"We are presently located inside the aft starboard research bay, where the red dot is located on the screen. If you’ll follow me, we’ll move next door." He led them to a small doorway. It opened with a whoosh and gave them access to the corridor beyond. Kelsey turned left and walked a tenth of the arc of the saucer to another similar door. A green light next to the door told them all that the room beyond was pressurized. The door opened, and they entered a shuttle bay three times the size of the one they just left.

"Do you see any difference here?" Kelsey asked the group.

Stronton walked forward and examined one of the launch platforms. "It’s heavier than standard, yet the same width."

"Very good, Lieutenant," Kelsey said, then turned to the group. "Anyone here ever work with Marines before?"

Stronton slapped his hand to his forehead. "That’s where I’ve seen this before. They’re for the fighters the Marines use to support their landings."

"Exactly, Ghilar," Kelsey rewarded the chief engineer. "We can carry a wing of Killer Bee class fighters and a regiment of Marines."

A collective "phew" went up from the officers present.

"And this is still considered an exploration cruiser?" questioned Thorrell. "It’s more like an assault cruiser."

"My thoughts as well, Number One, but that’s what we have," Kelsey concluded. "All right, that’s the extent of my tour. You will each have to fill in all the blanks by yourself. Number one?"

"Yes, sir?" Thorrell answered, his all business expression revealing he was ready to get to work.

"The full crew of the Fer D’Lance will be transferred here. Get them to work immediately. We will be receiving additional members to complete her compliment."

"Yes, sir."

"People, we have two weeks to take this brand, squeaky new, ship and make her ready for inspection by the admiralty, and deep space soon thereafter." Kelsey saw more than one or two looks of disbelief at the short fuse. "I am confident you all can do it. Any questions?"

There was silence.

"Another thing," Kelsey continued after a few minutes. "The Lance will be decommissioned at seventeen hundred hours this afternoon. Uniform is dress formal, no exceptions, and you all will be there. Any questions about that?"

The bay remained silent.

"It’s your show, Number One," Kelsey said after a few minutes. "I’ll be on the bridge if you need me." He exited the bay using the door they’d just entered. Just as it was almost closed he heard Thorrell’s authoritative voice say, "All right, you heard the man..." and then the door shut and sealed, cutting off any further sound.

The corridor was silent with its lack of crew. The lack of intercom boxes was conspicuous. It won’t take me long to get used to that, thought Kelsey as he continued walking toward where he knew there was a turbolift. Right away, he noted the lack of severity of the corridor’s arc as it orbited the central computer core that marked the heart of the starship. Not like the Lance, he thought as he made the comparison, this ship is so much larger.

A moment later he entered the lift. "Bridge."

"Bridge," repeated the computer voice.

The lift sped up the shaft, shifting directions twice as it moved laterally to a tube leading to the top of the central computer core. Kelsey felt none of the bone crushing changes, protected inside by smaller models of the same inertial dampers that allowed the crew to survive jumps to warp speed without being crushed to the back of each room within the starship. Moments later, the door opened, and Kelsey entered the control nexus of the Chosin.

"It’s a lot bigger than the corvette’s bridge," Kelsey said to himself, "but only a little bit bigger than what I trained on under Kirk in the old Enterprise." Unlike most Starfleet vessels, the bridge was not truly circular in shape. There were two turbolift ports along the back wall on either side of the ship’s system status monitor. To the left side of the port turbolift was the ship’s tactical station. To the right side of the starboard turbolift was the ship’s science station. The ship’s system status boards were located in between the turbolift doors. The upper deck had no other stations. Two rails separated the science and tactical stations from the lower area.

There were other big differences that he could see right away: There were two command chairs on a tier one step down from the upper deck, each identical from a cursory view. That would be for the first officer, identified Kelsey to himself, under the new tactical methods, the first officer fights the ship, while I maneuver her. I read that was how they fought ships back in the surface fleets of Earth. He nodded his head in agreement with the new arrangement. They may look alike from here, but a detailed examination of the right arm would show different functions, his thoughts concluded.

In front of the command tier, there was a fairly standard helm-navigation console, complete with the new-style holographic navigation dome in between them. Before the helm-nav console, the mainviewer sat, its screen dark. To the right of the mainviewer was an engineering console without a chair, and to the left was an environmental console, again without a chair. Apparently the bridge of the Chosin would have minimal staffing requirements.

He was tempted to go straight to the left side center seat—his command chair—but resisted the urge. Instead, he toured the stations mounted to the wall. Memories flooded past his inner view as he checked out each one. At one time, or another, during his rise through the command ranks, he’d sat at each one, learning what the job entailed. He completed the tour and found something missing.

He reversed the order of his inspection and once again found no communications console. "Where’s Communications?"

The computer picked up his voiced question. "Communications has been consolidated with Navigation on the right side of the helm-navigation console. In the event of an emergency, redundant communications controls are located on a slide out panel at the tactical station."

"And the weapons station?"

"All ship’s weaponry systems have been transferred to Tactical, including a targeting scanner viewer which raises from the console top when activated."

"Similar to the old Enterprise, eh? Cool, but it will take some getting used to," Kelsey commented.

"Please restate the question."

"Computer, disregard any further questions or remarks unless I precede them with the word, ‘Computer,’ thereby addressing you directly."

"Understood," the computer answered and went silent.

Did I detect a hint of disappointment? Kelsey thought as he approached the navigation station. Sure enough, the board was subdivided into two distinct areas. Navigation on the left, communications on the right. At the helm station, the ship guidance and control systems was one of the most comprehensive he’d ever seen. He stepped up to the tactical station, and admired its complexity. "I guess it would have to be to be able to control all the fire power of this queen of devastation." Kelsey’s mouth turned down a bit, his eyebrows raising as he nodded his head with approval, "Hmph," he grunted through his nose.

He went back to the science area and stood in front of the science station. "Computer."

"Working."

It is time, he thought. "Transfer all command codes to me."

"Voice identification confirms you are Kelsey, Shaun, Captain, Starfleet. State activation security password."

"Epsilon Three Six Eight Two Omega Epsilon."

"Password accepted; all command codes are transferred successfully. Welcome aboard, Captain."

"Thank you, computer. Activate all bridge stations and ship-wide systems."

The previous quiet of the sleeping bridge woke up to a cacophony of booting systems. "Ah," Kelsey breathed, "that’s what’s missing." He walked over to the left hand command chair and stood in front of it, hesitating for only just a moment, then sat. "Mainviewer, forward angle."

Nothing happened.

Now what, he thought, his mouth pulling slightly to the side. Have I found my first bug already? Then, he realized what was wrong. "How stupid can I get? Computer, mainviewer, forward angle."

The screen glowed to life, showing a section of the inside edge of the space dock. "Find the Fer D’Lance and display it.

His old command came into view; though it no longer was armed with its weapons pods or phaser banks, it still resembled his ship. A maintenance crew had already removed the Starfleet markings for it, and were now painting its new designation on the primary hull: S.S. Burnham, NAR-6245. "And so the sun sets on you, my girl. But like a phoenix rising from its ashes, you’re going to live again," he said, as a tear broke free from his watering eyes.

The doors to the turbolift opened and Thorrell entered with a rush. "Now this is the kind of bridge for me—big, spacious."

"Just right for your big head, Nova," Kelsey said in a false mocking tone of voice.

"That’s right, Reggie, something I missed on those smaller ships, and, huh," Thorrell stopped in his tracks, his gaze locked onto the seat at Kelsey’s side. "Is that...?"

"Yes, Thorrell, it’s the first officer’s station."

"Well, I’ll be hatched early and set out to starve," Thorrell literally leaped at the seat and sat in it, examining every aspect of the command console on the right arm. "Now this is more like it." He began to slouch a bit and stared at the mainviewer.

Both were silent for a moment, letting the ship’s electronic life serenade them.

"It feels like home already."

"Yep."

"I’ve just finished a quick tour of all her primary sections."

"And?"

"She’s a good ship and will bring the Federation much honor," Thorrell continued.

"I suspect she’ll more than live up to her namesake."

"Yep," Thorrell mimicked Kelsey’s slang.

"Yep," Kelsey responded.

Captain’s Log, Stardate 9494.5

Chosin is presently in the Sol system. It’s been two years since its commissioning, and yet Starfleet still has us conducting the occasional milk run. This time, it’s to Jupiter Station on behalf of Starfleet Base Operations. Seems that some visiting ambassador has a taste for sushi, and we’re bringing in over three dozen varieties of sushi rolls, soy sauce and fresh wasabi and ginger. I kid you not; I don’t know when the Federation decided to convert the Constellation class to catering missions, but I’ve been assured that this is a really special ambassador the Federation is trying to impress. The Chosin is supposed to be receiving new supplies, and we’re next in the queue at SpaceDock. I’m to deliver the sushi, and rush back to the San Francisco Naval Yard.

Meanwhile, I also have an ear to subspace, keeping abreast to the currents of events outside official information coming from Starfleet headquarters. It is clear that there are many things going on deep within the fleet besides what is reported by fleet and media alike.

Reference the loss of the Jenolen on its passenger run to the retirement colony on Norpin V. Chekov and the Enterprise-B warped out of dock earlier today to begin a search and rescue mission. I wish we were assigned to assist. Captain Scott is a dear friend to me as well. If anyone can find that crusty ol’ Scotsman, Chekov can, even though this would be like finding a specific electron in the air around Earth.

As a final part to this log entry, I should commend the ship’s galley in their preparations for Christmas. They have come a long ways toward preparations for this gala event, all the while having to deal with the ambassador’s catering needs.

"You ready for your work out, dear?" a very familiar voice said from behind him.

"I’m always ready for a work out," Kelsey responded as he turned to face the source of the voice. Arlene was in sweats, her hair bound up and out of the way, a sweatband helping to hold any stray strands from her eyes, and a towel draped around her neck. "Oh, that kind of work out." He let a mock look of disappointment settle onto his facial features as he stood to face her.

It drew a knowing smile from her, and she moved toward him, her arms going around his neck. They kissed lightly and her green eyes stared into his eyes of blue. "Later," she whispered, "after you’ve warmed up."

"But what if my warm up burns me out," he teased. "I’m not as young as I used to be, you know," he continued, letting his hands roam down the small of her back, to end up on her backside.

"The day an Irishman can’t respond to a pretty lady’s attention is the day Hell freezes over," she teased right back, but allowed herself a moment of warmth tucked away in his strong arms. Disengaging, she gave him a light tap on the backside. "Let’s go, or we’ll both have perdition to pay to the good doctor."

"Ah, what does she know?"

"Enough, evidently," Arlene answered, pinching a role of extra flesh located around his mid-section. "Let’s go."

"Oh, all right."

The Chosin’s workout area was three times the size of the Fer D’Lance. It actually was almost a gymnasium, but with lower ceilings. The couple immediately noted that there was almost standing room only, the open area filled with crewmembers.

"What do you notice, sir?" Williams said, just above a whisper.

Kelsey noted the "sir" on the end of her statement. His wife was very good at remembering proper protocol outside their quarters. This had been the most difficult part of their contract together, maintaining the intimacy as husband and wife and the professional relationship of senior and junior officer. His memories flashed briefly to his youth and the traditional, now actually, extremely outdated, upbringing his Da had raised him with. I wonder if I could have accepted Arlene being my senior, he thought. An elbow to the ribs quickly brought him back to reality. "What?"

"What are you staring at?"

Kelsey hadn’t even realized that he’d been staring, but now that his attention had been brought to it, centered in his gaze was Ensign Q’Stor. She was in a standard Starfleet physical training uniform, but she filled it better than most.

"Nothing..." he stammered, embarrassed by her question. "Well, actually, I guess..."

"Typical male programming."

"What?"

She imitated testing the air for scents by sticking her nose into the air and taking in a long drought. "Not a hint of Orion pheromone in the air, and you guys are all gah-gah."

He noted the smile on her face and knew he wasn’t in any real trouble. "Well, I’m sorry, ma’am, but my programming was not my own. I think someone much higher up on the scale of authority had a lot to do with it."

She smiled and grabbed his arm to steer him toward another part of the gym—the weight room.

"They," he indicated the rest of the male crewmen, "will never tire of her presence, I’m afraid. It’s been two years since she came aboard, and—"

"I’m not worried."

"Yeah, right, that’s why you’re cutting off the circulation to my hand with your grip on my arm?"

She released his arm, as it was her turn to be embarrassed. "Yeah, well, just call it female programming."

"Okay," he said, as they entered the weight room.

It was immediately noted that there would be no waiting lines for the machines as the only occupants were a couple of Vulcan crew members and a few females, who seemed to have the same look of disgust as what Williams was unconsciously wearing. They both headed for the mats and began a series of exercises designed to warm up their muscles and prepare them for unaccustomed work.

"Maybe you should order them," she said, indicating the crowd in the open area, "for mental conditioning by these guys," she likewise indicated the Vulcans.

Stretching exercises were bittersweet, feeling both good and bad at the same time, but he knew from painful experience what would happen if he didn’t perform them. "I think they’ve tried for years now."

"...not hard enough," she said through a grunt and she touched her nose to the mat.

Just watching her do that hurts me, he thought as he attempted something else less strenuous. "How do you try harder than a Vulcan, dear?"

"I don’t know, but something has to change," she answered a moment later while holding a different stretching position.

"Don’t worry, honey. The gym is a normal place in the hierarchy of life aboard this ship," he concluded, changing over from the stretching to a couple of simple Tae-Kwon Do katas. He always started a work out re-tuning his body as a weapon, working through more and more difficult maneuvers. Then he would change over to Ken-po, exchanging his hands and feet for a mock blade weapon. Finally, after working up a good sweat and maintaining his heart beat at the level best suited for his age and conditioning, he would move to the resistance machines to maintain his muscle mass.

Their sweats were soaked as they completed the cool down stretching and could once again talk to each other.

"She’s making them pay dearly for their attention," Williams noted.

A quick glance showed that the crowd had not diminished, but the attendees were looking worse for the wear. He shook his head, "She works them hard." He noted the Orion ensign hadn’t even broke a sweat yet. "She’s in pretty good shape."

"Now, don’t start that again," Williams grabbed him by the arm again and began dragging him toward the exit.

"What? I was just noting..."

"Yeah, I know what you were noting. Maybe I should leave you here and let you learn what the rest will learn later, when all this catches up with them."

"Promise?" he kidded.

"Come on, you don’t have time for this...SIR!"

"Yes, MA’AM," he replied, allowing her to drag him out the door.

*****

Captain’s Log, Stardate 9495.3

Monitored the report from Captain Chekov about the destruction of the U.S.S. Bradley, a sister ship of the Chosin. Knowing what I know now about my command, I find it hard to believe that any number of Tholian patrol cruisers could take it out. They must have caught the Bradley by surprise, with her shields down. That Tholian patrol cruisers, with their range limits, were found to be responsible means there is a colony nearby. I have given my senior officers a warning order to speed up preparations for our departure from SpaceDock. We are the closest Starfleet ship to that area and will no doubt be required to respond in the case of trouble.

The diplomatic corps of the Federation has yet to determine how to negotiate with these living crystals, and the Chief Alienologist’s Office still doesn’t know how, or why, they pick their colony locations. So far there doesn’t seem to be a pattern, except that once the Tholians start a colony, there is no way to get them to leave. They force you to destroy every member.

Again, circumstances are cutting into what time