[CREW LOUNGE - USS ORISKANY -- 1730 hours]

     Captain Reginald Tuna stopped short as the door swished shut
behind him.  Physically, he was anything but the prototypical
starship Captain.  Barely over five feet, balding, a bit
overweight, and wearing his signature wire rimmed glasses, he
sorely lacked the charisma one hoped for in a leader.  But he had
put in a solid, if unspectacular, thirty years and was now
Captain of the training cruiser, USS Oriskany.  
     The Captain stood erect, fuming silently as he gazed at the
remains of what used to be the crew lounge.  Furniture overturned
-- cards and assorted game pieces scattered to the four winds --
some of his highest ranking officers frozen in grotesque poses,
their eyes still open and staring into his own -- waiting for him
to say..."AT-TEN-SHUN!!!"
     Every officer and crewman was instantly on his feet -- some
of the younger crew attempting to straighten their rumpled
uniforms.  As the dozen or so Starfleet personnel scrambled to
their feet, someone stepped on the corner of a plate of food,
unintentionally flinging it in a lazy arc across the room.  The
Captain didn't flinch as the goo struck him squarely in the
chest.  Had it been a disruptor bolt, he would have died
instantly.  Instead, his hand moved deliberately toward the gob,
and a single finger scraped what he could off his gold tunic. 
Raising the finger slowly to his face, he paused to sniff it
before plunging the finger into his mouth.  He smiled slightly as
he swallowed.
     "Tuna Salad.  How apropos," he said almost cordially.  Then
fire shot from his eyes and smoke billowed from his ears, (or at
least several crewman present swore it did later), as he launched
into a tirade that caused even his most seasoned officers to
wince.
     "Who in God's creation is responsible for destroying my
lounge?!?"
     Silence.
     "Klingon warriors could not have done a finer job at
creating this chaos -- now WHO is responsible?!?  I want to know,
and I want to know NOW!!!"
     Silence -- and then a scraping noise off to his right. 
Captain Tuna turned, attempting to isolate the source of the
noise.  Before he could do more than twitch, though, a brown
furry blur zipped across the deck and through his legs.  Wheeling
around, the Captain was just quick enough to see the small
creature pause at the bottom of the door to the lounge.
     Well, it'll never be able to trigger the door sensors --
it's much too short, he thought just before the animal leapt
straight up at least a meter and a half.  The door swished open
and the animal was gone in a flash.
     Turning slowly, the Captain returned his attention to those
still present.  "I suppose that -- that rodent is somebody's
pet?"
     "Mine, sir," a young female crewman squeaked hesitantly.
     Reginald fixed the pretty, petite brunette with a glare that
would have caused her uniform to burst into flames, were it not a
fire-resistant material.  "Pets are completely non-regulation,
crewman!  What on . . . "
     "No they're not, sir," she said softly, realizing too late
she should not have interrupted.
     "EXCUSE me?!?" the Captain roared.
     "I said that my pet is not against regulations.  Three
months ago, Starfleet issued a . . . "
     "Silence, crewman!  I know regulations, and I know pets are
not allowed -- especially not weasels!"
     "It's a ferret, sir."
     "I don't care if it's a Denebian Slime Devil!  It is still
not allowed on MY ship!" the Captain bellowed, his face turning
redder by the second.  "I want you to go get your weasel -- lock
it up -- and make certain I do not see, hear, or smell it for the
rest of our cruise, crewman . . . er . . . "
     "Wylde, sir.  Veronica Wylde -- Security Department weapons
specialist."
     "Hmmph," the Captain snorted contemptuously.  "Go get your
rodent and take it to Medical to insure it isn't diseased.  Then
report to your section chief.  And so help me, if I get the
chance, I'll beam that . . . thing over to the first Klingon ship
I see.  Dismissed!"
     Crewman Wylde hesitated for a moment, then moved past the
Captain, exiting the lounge.  As the door slid shut, Captain Tuna
turned his attention to the others still awaiting his wrath.  His
gaze stopped upon reaching the Marrow twins.  The Captain
frowned.
     "Will -- Marshall -- front and center."
     The Jamaican brothers moved forward quickly, snapping to
attention in front of him, ready to receive the Captain's
reprimand.
     "It appears you two take great joy in causing me distress,"
the Captain frowned.  "It's bad enough I get saddled with having
to nursemaid you both through shuttle training thanks to your
little bout with Rigellian Fever.  But now I find you assisting
in the destruction of the crew lounge . . . "
     "But sir . . " they said in unison.
     "SILENCE!  I have not asked for excuses!" the Captain
growled.  "I told Starfleet I didn't want you -- I don't care how
good your grades were in other courses, they should have kept you
an extra term.  Shuttle operations are too critical to have
untrained personnel learning on the job.  But now that you've
decided to be disruptive in your off-duty hours, we'll just have
to see you have fewer off-duty hours.  Until further notice, you
will both begin pulling double shifts -- alternating between your
normal duty stations and shuttle control.  ANY QUESTIONS?"
     The twins glanced at each other, exchanging an unspoken
word.  Will spoke for both.  "Captain, we have only recently
begun da teeoretical studies on shuttle usage.  Commander Coty
has told us it would be six weeks before we would be doin' hands
on work wid da shuttle craft.  Would da double shifts be
beginning after our class work, Captain, mon?"
     "No!  You will start immediately -- and I do mean
immediately.  Report to Commander Coty and tell him what I just
told you.  He will revise your work and class schedules
accordingly.  Dismissed!"
     Reginald smiled smugly as the twins slipped past him and
through the doors.  The Captain frowned as he looked back at the
crowd still awaiting his orders.  "Computer," he said to the air,
"Place all personnel currently in the crew lounge on report,
along with crewmen Veronica Wylde, Will Marrow and Marshall
Marrow."
     After a quick chirp the computer voice chimed, "Reports
filed."
     Starting to turn, the Captain paused, "Computer, please also
change the dietary programs for all those on report to nothing
but Tuna Salad for the next week."
     "Computed."
     The Captain turned to exit, but paused once more.  Over his
shoulder he sighed, "And clean this mess up," just before the
door swished shut behind him.

[ENGINEERING DEPARTMENTAL OFFICE - USS ORISKANY -- 1800 hours]

     Chief Engineer Daryl Petty shuffled through the stack of
computer disks before him, finally finding the one he was after
near the bottom of the pile.  After slamming it forcefully into
the reader, he closed his eyes and massaged his temples while the
program and data were loading.  "These kids are gonna be the
death of me," he grumbled softly to himself.  The computer chimed
softly to let him know it was ready.  The screen flashed and
beeped several times before finally settling down to display a
page of simple text, though the background color was pink, with
the lettering in purple.




     
REPORT SSPE/EOD-BR549:CREW EVALUATION

     Engineering Dept: USS ORISKANY
     Cadet Training Cruise
     Departure Date:  SD2962.81

==============================
==============================

ENGINEERING DEPARTMENTAL CREW LIST

     Chief Engineer:     Marquis de Sade
     Asst. Chief:        Adolf Hitler
     Vice Asst Chief:    Khan Singh

CADET LIST
========

Dasher         Comet          Rudolph        Dopey
Dancer         Cupid          Sleepy         Bashful
Prancer        Donner         Sneezy         Happy
Vixen               Blitzen        Grumpy         Doc






     The Chief groaned as he read the display.  "I'll kill 'em,
so help me, if I find out who pulled this stunt, I'll . . . "
     The Red Alert klaxon stopped the Chief's tirade before he
could really get started.  He lifted his two-meter frame out of
the chair and ran his hand quickly through the wild ragmop he
called a hair style.  With two huge steps he was to the door of
his office.  The searing pain in his nose was his first clue that
his door had not opened as it should have.  Cursing profusely,
his hand came away from his nose red.  His curses grew in volume.
     After a cursory inspection of the door sensor, the Chief
flipped the switch on the intercom, "Bridge," he fairly yelled
into the speaker as he searched vainly for a rag to contain the
bleeding from his nose.
     "London Bridge is falling down, falling down. . . " the
speaker blared back at him.
     "Captain Tuna," he snapped irritably back at the device.
     The strains of a 20th century ballad answered him, "Captain
Fantastic, raised and regimented, hardly a he-ee-ee-ro . . . "
     "Engineering?" the Chief pleaded hopefully.
     "I'm a ramblin' wreck from Georgia Tech and a helluva
Engineer . . . "
     The Chief flipped the intercom off angrily.  "Where's my
#&@*$ toolbox?!?" he screamed to the air.
     "Your tool box is located in shuttle number two," the
computer cheerfully answered.  The Chief slumped back down into
his desk chair, staring vacantly at the computer screen.
     "Computer, open the door to my office," he said slowly.
     "What are the magic words?"
     Daryl Petty leaned forward slowly and began banging his
forehead softly on his desk.


[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY -- 1805 hours]

     "Captain on the bridge," the Security guard announced as
Reginald Tuna exited the turbolift.
     "Status, Commander?"  Reginald asked his tall, blonde,
overly handsome Exec.
     As the First Officer vacated the command chair and took his
spot at the weapons console, he gave the Captain the bad news,
"Navigational controls are off line, and we're currently on
course two-eight-six mark three, warp factor four point three and
climbing."
     "Disengage warp engines, Mr. Rogers," the Captain said
calmly to his helmsman.
     "Trying sir," the thin sandy-haired Ensign replied, "But
controls are not responding.  We're ballistic, sir.  And we're
gaining speed," he added throwing his hands up in frustration.
     The Captain slapped the intercom button on his chair arm. 
"Engineering - Chief Petty -- status."
     Silence.
     "Petty?  Petty?!  Is anyone in the Engine Room?!?" the
Captain roared.
     "You answer."
     "I'm not gonna answer, you answer."
     "Let's get Mikey."
     "He won't answer . . . "
     The Captain screamed at the intercom, interrupting the trio
of voices babbling at the other end.  "I don't care WHO answers,
but if I don't get an explanation of what's going on right now,
every engineering cadet will spend the next twenty years mining
dilithium on Ceti Alpha Seven!"
     "Er . . . sorry, sir.  Chief Petty isn't here.  It appears a
retro virus has locked all computer controlled navigation
routines.  Diagnostics indicate safety protocols are still in
place, so we should level off at warp seven," a soft young female
voice reported.
     "Excellent report.  To whom am I speaking?" the Captain
asked, softening his tone greatly.
     "Ensign Hu, sir."
     "The good doctor's daughter?"
     "Yes sir," she answered, and every one the bridge could
'hear' her face reddening in embarrassment.
     "I'll have to tell Izzy you're doing a good job down in
Engineering, Cindy Lou.  In the meantime, though, I need you to
find Chief Petty, so we can regain Nav control.  Also, Assistant
Chief Taylor is in sick bay with Lt. Borland -- I believe Tim and
Al are still recuperating from their accident with the food
synthesizers yesterday.  See if either is well enough to return
to duty.  And have all on-duty personnel review procedures for a
warp core dump.  With our current course and speed, we could
reach the neutral zone near Klingon space in about thirty-six
hours.  I'm sure the chances of our getting that far out are
remote, but it will be valuable training for all cadets."
     "Yes sir.  Understood, sir.  Ensign Hu out."
     The Captain turned to ask his Science Officer a question and
was shocked to see the station vacant.  "Who's manning the
Science station?" Reginald roared.
     "Lieutenant Coffey, "Commander Coty answered from the
weapons console.
     "Well, where is he then?"
     "Er . . .  he's on break, sir."
     "On break?  We're at red alert!"
     "Well, sir.  Joe had been running some studies for me and
hadn't taken a break in six hours.  I sent him to relieve his
bladder just before the alert was sounded," the Commander
explained.
     The Captain closed his eyes and sighed.  "Okay.  Since we
are in no immediate danger, downgrade ship status to stand-by
alert.  Then have all section heads meet in conference room one
in thirty minutes."
     "Aye, sir," the Exec answered.
     The Captain rose from his chair and strode into the
turbolift, grumbling under his breath as the door shut behind
him.

[CONFERENCE ROOM ONE:  USS ORISKANY -- 1845 hours]

     The Captain drummed his fingers on the conference table and
frowned.  He didn't like to be kept waiting.  He scanned the
faces of the officers who were present.  Commander William Coty,
Executive Officer and Weapons Specialist was busy perusing files
on a portable databoard.  Beside him, the dark-skinned Lieutenant
Joe Coffey, Science Officer, sat sipping a tall glass of milk. 
The Captain's frown deepened as he realized he too was thirsty. 
The empty chair, normally filled by his gangly Chief Engineer,
separated Coffey and Lieutenant Commander Watt, Chief of
Security.  Across from the massive form of Charlie Watt sat a
petite auburn-haired woman, Chief of Ship Operations, Windy
Knott.  Beside her was the one person who wouldn't be found on
any other starship in the fleet -- Woody Howe, heading the ship's
Education Branch.  The man's silvery hair and wrinkled face made
him appear even older than his 112 years.  Beside Professor Howe,
Chief Helmsman, Lieutenant Lisa Ware fidgeted nervously, twirling
her long black hair absent-mindedly.  And at the Captain's right
hand sat the squat and genteel Doctor, Izzy Hu.
     As the Captain was about to speak, the door swished open. 
He turned, ready to give Chief Petty a piece of his mind, but
stopped himself when Cindy Lou Hu stepped cautiously through the
doorway, her long black tresses swinging in a thick braided
ponytail half way down her back.
     "Um, I'm sorry to interrupt, Captain," she cooed softly,
stopping inches inside the room.
     "Quite all right, Ensign.  Did you locate the Chief?"
Captain Tuna asked.
     "Yes sir.  But he's trapped in his office."
     The Captain eyed the young Ensign incredulously.  "Trapped?"
     "Yes, sir.  It appears someone played a . . . er . . .
practical joke on the Chief.  His office door has been sealed
electronically, with all computer access to the area inoperative. 
I've got a pair of crewmen working on getting the door open."
     The Captain waved the Ensign into silence.  "Very well, take
the Chief's seat."
     The Ensign quickly moved to the vacant chair and plopped
down, sitting overly erect with her hands resting lightly on the
table, fingers intertwined.
     "Okay, we can start now.  Who's up first Commander?" the
Captain asked.
     "Which Hu, sir?" Commander Coty responded.
     "What?"
     "Sir?" the Security Officer answered.
     "Not Watt, Charlie . . . WHAT.  As in what are you talking
about, Coty?"
     "Sorry sir," the Exec apologized.  "I thought you were
asking one of our Hu's to report first -- and now we have two."
     "Ahh.  No Commander.  Just stick to whatever agenda you've
drawn up.
     The Commander nodded.  "Ware?"
     "Here," the Captain threw his hands up in exasperation.
     "Um, I meant Lieutenant Ware, sir," the Commander explained.
     The Captain leaned back, defeated.  "Go ahead, Lieutenant."
     The brunette stood, picking her tricorder up and activating
the wall monitor.  "We are currently here," she said pointing to
a blinking dot near the bottom left corner of the screen.  At the
opposite corner of the map, an area was labelled "Neutral Zone"
in flashing red letters.  "Given our current course and speed, we
would cross into the zone in roughly thirty-five hours.  As yet
we've had no luck in regaining computer control of the helm. 
Acceleration has slowed to almost nil -- currently we're at warp
seven point one seven.  However, despite safety protocols, we are
still accelerating slightly, though acceleration is intermittent
and very minimal."
     "Any navigational hazards to be concerned about?" the
Captain asked.
     "There are two star systems on our path, but we will miss
both by comfortable margins.  Our only real concern is the
Lazleman Nebula.  We will come in contact with the outer edge of
it in less than two hours, if we continue on present course."
     "Thank you, Lieutenant," Captain Tuna said.  "Coffey?"
     "No thank you, sir," Lieutenant Ware answered an instant
before realizing Captain Tuna was not speaking to her.  She
mouthed her apology and retook her seat as the Captain turned to
his Science Officer.
     "Coffey, any danger from contacting the nebula at high warp
speed?"
     "Well, sir," the black man responded, "It will be quite a
jolt.  At warp seven we can probably bet on losing some
electronics when we pass through it, as well as a few injuries. 
The inertial dampeners won't be able to fully compensate for that
kind of a change in velocity."
     Captain Tuna grimaced at the news.  "Then that needs to be
our primary area of concern.  First, we need to get Chief Petty
out of his office.  Then . . . "
     "Sir," Windy Knott interrupted.  "We could just beam him out
with the transporter."  Silence hung in the air for a moment as
the Captain realized he should have thought of that sooner.
     "Excellent idea, Knott.  Coordinate with Ensign Hu when
we're done here."
     "Aye, sir," the redhead answered with a smile.
     "Professor Howe," the Captain said, moving on, "With the
danger of equipment failure due to the nebula being a concern, I
want you to coordinate with Commander Coty and Chief Petty to see
that all the students who are best suited to deal with system
failures are on duty two hours from now."
     "I'll get right on it," he answered with a grandfatherly
smile.
     "Doc, if the jolt from the nebula is as bad as Coffey says,
you'll probably want all three med-shifts on alert and positioned
for crisis response."
     The oriental physician nodded in affirmation as he furiously
keyed one-handed into a datapad with blinding speed.
     "Have I forgotten anyone?" Tuna asked, knowing the doctor
was more than capable of dealing with the approaching crisis.
     "Watt," his Exec responded.
     "Have I forgotten anyone?" Reginald repeated impatiently.
     "Lieutenant Commander Watt, sir," Coty sighed.
     "Oh," the Captain said, his face reddening.  "Any security
concerns, Lieutenant Commander?"
     "I am currently looking into the person or persons
responsible for trapping Chief Petty.  With the timing of the
'joke' and the navigation failure, I believe there is a distinct
possibility we have an enemy operative aboard."
     This news caught the attention of everyone present.  The
Captain was the first to voice his disbelief.  "What?!?"
     "Yes, sir?"
     "The Captain closed his eyes and stifled a groan.  "Charlie,
do you really think this is a possibility?"
     "Yes sir."
     To what end though?  Why waste a deep cover agent on a
training vessel?  Why not wait to cause problems for a ship of
the line?"
     "Perhaps the agent is not likely to reach a ship of the
line.  Poor performance or a psyche profile indicating
instability may have led the culprit to judge this would be their
last likely chance to create chaos within the Federation.  And
killing 400 of Starfleet's best and brightest would certainly
cause ripple effects throughout the fleet.  And there is another
possibility."  The Security Chief's last words were spoken with a
softness that sent shivers down the Captain's spine.
     "And that would be?" Reginald Tuna asked.
     "The malfunction, or sabotage, took place at the outermost
point of the training sector.  It locked us on a course heading
directly toward the closest border to the Klingon Empire."  The
Security Officer paused.
     "Are you suggesting the Klingons are trying to STEAL the
Oriskany?!" Captain Tuna's bewilderment was apparent to all.
     Several of the others present tried to speak, and the
Captain waved them into silence.  Once the commotion had died
down, Lieutenant Commander Watt continued.  "Believe me, sir, I
know how preposterous that sounds, and I only have guesses at
this point.  But if I am correct, we will certainly run into
further sabotage."
     The Captain sat dumbfounded for a moment before nodding to
Watt, "Make finding the hacker who did this your highest
priority."
     "Aye, sir."
     Scanning the faces of the others, the Captain asked, "Does
anyone else have any good news to share?"
     It was then the lights went out.


[ENGINEERING - USS ORISKANY -- 1915 hours]

     "I cannot believe my engineering staff is so inept," Chief
Petty grumbled for the hundredth time since being transported out
of his office.  "It's bad enough you cut through a main
illumination server when trying to hack your way into my office. 
And the damned Operations Officer had to come up with the idea to
use the transporter to get me out.  But what you have done to my
engines . . . "  The Chief couldn't bring himself to finish the
sentence as he extricated himself from beneath the engineering
console.
     "Ensign Hu, get Leuthold, Ladd, Bieksha and Hyman down here
on the double.  I don't care what their regular schedules are. 
Then see that all other engineering personnel are gathered on the
Rec Deck by . . . 1930 hours."
     As the Ensign quickly exited the room, the Chief slapped the
nearest comm-panel.  "Captain, Chief Petty here."
     "Yes, Chief?" the Captain's voice responded hopefully.
     "No dice on disengaging the warp drive anytime soon.  My
overly enthusiastic students have dismantled two-thirds of the
safety systems needed to do an emergency warp cut-off.  Until we
get those systems reinstalled we're staying ballistic."
     "Damn."
     "My sentiments exactly, Captain."
     "How long until we can disengage?"
     "At least an hour," the Chief snorted into the speaker.
     "We're gonna hit the nebula in forty-five minutes Chief. 
Any chance of shaving time off that projection?"
     "I can shave as much time off the projection as you want,
but it's still gonna take at least an hour to get the job done."
     "Double damn."
     "I'm making plans and preparations for optimizing our
chances when we hit the nebula."
     "Our chances?" Reg asked incredulously.
     "Sir, when we hit the nebula, first our shields go down. 
Next comes the turbulence.  We can only guess as to its
intensity.  Then comes the system overloads, and if we lose
artificial gravity then the entire crew could end up as a greasy
spot on the forward bulkheads."
     "Any resources you need that I can help with?" the Captain
offered.
     "Sorry, no sir," the Chief sighed.  "I'm calling a meeting
of ALL engineering crew in a few minutes.  I'll have all first
line crew in place in plenty of time."
     "As you see fit, Chief.  Do what you can to keep her in one
piece.  Tuna out."


[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY -- 1920 hours]

     The Captain bowed his head and rubbed his throbbing temples. 
After a few moments he realized someone was standing to his side. 
Looking up, he saw his Security Chief, Charlie Watt waiting
patiently, or was it nervously?
     "Have you found our saboteur, Charlie?"
     "In a manner of speaking, sir," the blonde answered, his
blue eyes nervously dancing away from the Captain's gaze.
     "Who is it?"
     "Not Hu, sir.  Watt."
     "What?"
     "Yes, sir.  I'm afraid so."
     The Captain paused and spoke his next words carefully.  "Do
you know where the culprit is, Charlie?"
     "Uh, yes sir," the Lieutenant Commander answered hesitantly.
     "And his name is?"
     "Charlie Watt, Captain."
     Reginald Tuna was dumbfounded.
     "Are you telling me YOU sabotaged the computer?"
     "No sir.  Yes, sir.  Well, I mean I didn't do it, sir.  But
whoever did, used MY access codes."
     "Your codes?"  The Captain groaned.
     "Yes, sir," the Security Chief answered, his eyes downcast.
     "Any ideas on how someone got a hold of your codes?" Reg
asked hopefully.
     "Not yet, sir.  However, it is almost certain now that our
culprit is someone within the Security Department."
     "Wonderful," the Captain sighed.  "So let me guess, you
won't be able to use any of your own personnel to track down the
traitor."
     "You are correct, sir.  In fact, it might be advisable to
lock me in the brig."
     "What?  You're kidding, aren't you?"
     "No sir.  Since MY codes were used, I must be considered the
prime suspect."
     "Forget it, Charlie.  If you were the culprit, you could use
anyone's access codes you wanted.  With your knowledge of
Security protocols, you could certainly cover your tracks well
enough that no one could finger you through computer records. 
No.  Whoever did this elected to use your codes to confuse the
issue and make your investigation as difficult as possible.  Do
whatever you must to find out who our saboteur is."
     "I appreciate your confidence in me.  I'll try not to let
you down, sir."  The Security Chief whirled and strode
purposefully off the bridge into the turbolift.  As the doors
swished shut behind him a smile pulled at the corners of his
mouth.


[REC DECK - USS ORISKANY -- 1930 hours]

     Chief Petty raised his arms and waved the throng into a
restless silence.  "We don't have much time, so I'll make this
briefing . . . , er . . . , brief.  In less than thirty minutes
we're going to intersect the Lazleman Nebula.  At high warp this
will likely cause any number of systems failures.  Therefore,
I've drawn temporary work schedules to place every one of you in
a position to use your best skills should a critical situation
arise.  Two thirds of you will be at active duty stations.  I'm
doubling our normal staffing on the premise that one of you may
be incapacitated, but at least one of you will still be capable
of manning the station.  The rest of you will remain here in
order to backup any stations where injuries occur.  Those who
remain here on the Rec Deck will take every precaution to prevent
injury to yourselves.  It is likely some number of consoles may
overload and explode when we strike the nebula.  Once the
buffeting is over, the backup staff here in the Rec Room will
disperse to their assigned areas, to ensure that we have
conscious, capable hands manning all stations.
     "The comm-system is to be used only in the event of EXTREME
emergency.  This means a direct threat to the integrity of the
ship.  No calls for Medics or reports of blown consoles.  I will
ASK for reports as I need them, and I don't want to have to fight
for comm-time.  Any questions?"
     A voice near the back of the room spoke up, "What if you're
injured and incapacitated, Chief?"
     "Then Ensign Hu is in charge.  Since Tim and Al are still
recuperating in sickbay, Cindy Lou's orders will be treated as
mine."
     A murmur arose from the crowd at this news.
     "I'm not through!" the Chief spat, silencing the mob.  "I
know a number of you have higher marks or more seniority. 
However, I need your expertise at a systems level, while Ensign
Hu is already up to speed on what my concerns are.  She has also
sat in on a Senior Staff meeting in my absence, which gives the
Captain and senior staff some previous contact with her.  This
situation is critical, and any petty concerns about politics and
grades are sorely misplaced.  At this point, it is imperative
that each of your perform at your absolute peak.  This is a
matter of survival - for you, the ship, and all aboard.  Check
the printouts at the door for your assigned duty stations. 
Dismissed."


[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY -- 1958 hours]

     The Captain adjusted his wire rims and wiped his brow with
his braided cuff.  He flipped the ship's P/A switch after
clearing his throat.  "All hands, prepare for contact with nebula
edge.  Contact in T minus forty seconds on my mark . . . mark!"
     The red alert panels continued flashing, though the annoying
klaxon was mercifully silent.  The Captain tensed as the outline
of the nebula appeared as a tiny line on the forward viewer.  It
grew at an alarming rate as the ship hurtled toward it.  Every
eye on the bridge was drawn inexorably to the time and distance
counter on the viewer's upper right corner.  As the digits shrank
toward nothing, the crew drew in a collective breath and held it
. . .
     Surprisingly, there was little sound at the moment of
contact.  Only a dull thud announced the violent effects caused
by the interaction between the warp field and the ionized
particles of the nebula.  The gravity compensators could not
fully compensate for the change in velocity.  Every physical
object which was not firmly bolted down was thrown forward.
     At the weapons/navigation console, Commander Coty and
Lieutenant Ware were both slammed face first into their duty
stations.  Lisa Ware suffered a concussion from the blow, while
the Commander escaped with only a broken nose.
     The Captain, though, having no console to obstruct his way,
was propelled out of his chair as if shot from a cannon.  His
arms flailing, Reginald Tuna soared over his Exec head-first like
a wounded pelican.  Seeing the forward viewscreen approaching
much too fast, the Captain ducked his head, turning his flight
into a somersault.  He was halfway over as he cleared the safety
rail and crashed butt-first into the viewscreen.
     The monitor had been designed to be sturdy, having to
survive the standard rigors of a starship's life.  However, it
could not withstand the impact of a starship Captain thrown with
sufficient force.  The glass-like polymer shattered into
thousands of pieces, which were then spewed outward across the
bridge as the electronics behind the screen exploded.
     The Captain's backside was peppered with these fragments as
gravity brought him head-first back to the deck.  He barely
managed to get his arms extended to break his fall, though the
thunk of his balding pate on the deck was audible even through
the din caused by the various short-circuits and other normal
bridge sounds.  As he keeled over, landing on his chest, the
Captain managed only to groan the word, "Ouch," before passing
out.
     Security Guard Wyatt Dillon, stationed beside the turbo-
lift, also had nothing to brace himself on.  However, as he felt
himself being thrown forward, he reacted instinctively.  He saw
the viewscreen explode and as he flew through the air toward it,
he scrunched up into as tight a ball as he could make himself. 
He heard shards of the screen whiz past his ears and felt others
pelt his body in various spots as he completed a perfect
somersault and landed cat-like on his feet.  He patted himself
down quickly, seeing multiple slices cut into his bright red
tunic.  Oddly though, he was not bleeding.  
     "I'm alive!" he exclaimed, mindless of everyone present. 
"I'm wearing my red uniform, and I survived!"
     No one reacted to his statement, everyone else still trying
to get their bearings after the blast.  The rest of the bridge
crew fared well, also, their chairs turned away from the bow of
the ship.  Although several were dumped unceremoniously onto the
deck, most escaped with only bumps and bruises.  Joe Coffey
managed to reach a hand between his legs to grab the lip of his
seat as his head was snapped back by the sudden jolt.  The stress
was too much for the chair's support beam, which bent, groaning
its displeasure until Lieutenant Coffey was lying horizontal to
the deck, facing the ceiling like a 20th century astronaut
preparing for lift-off.
     After the shower of viewscreen shards had passed, relative
calm ensued.  The Lieutenant, in a statement to no one in
particular, said, "I think I need a new chair."  It was then that
the support broke completely, causing the chair with the
Lieutenant still in it to drop to the deck with a whumph. 
"Scratch that.  I definitely need a new chair," he said, rolling
off the chair and regaining his feet.
     Joe Coffey had seen damaged bridges before, both in
simulators and working as a repair technician early in his
career.  But he had never witnessed the kind of chaos enveloping
the bridge of the Oriskany.  The shards from the viewscreen
appeared to have sliced into everyone present except him.  He
patted himself down just to make sure, plucking a shard from his
short cropped hair, although he was pleased to find no blood.
     The Lieutenant moved quickly to the Navigation console,
feeling for a pulse in Lieutenant Ware's neck.  The pulse was
strong and steady, although the imprint of the helmsman's face in
the console's synthetic surface was disquieting.
     Commander Coty was moaning quietly, as he struggled to raise
his head from the Weapons console.  With a sound much like
ripping paper, the Commander bolted upright, screaming as he did
so.  A combination of pressure, electricity and heat had somehow
fused the weapons' console's display to his face.  Lieutenant
Coffey looked down, amazed to see a completely black circle in
the middle of the weapons station, smeared with the Exec's blood. 
It was immediately obvious the Commander Coty's nose was broken,
though he seemed otherwise uninjured.
     "Go chek ba Caprin," the Commander said in a highly nasal
whine.  He spat out a mouthful of blood, adding, "I bid my lib,"
as Coffey moved toward Tuna's dormant form.  
     The Lieutenant grabbed the Captain's wrist, paused, then
nodded to the Exec.  "He's alive, but unconscious.  Multiple
lacerations on his back and . . . er . . . buttocks.  He's got a
huge knot on top of his head -- possible concussion."
     "Berry well," Commander Coty acknowledged, as he moved to
the Captain's chair.  Slapping the intercom switch on the chair
arm, he jumped back as the entire electronic assembly showered
sparks, igniting the padding and beginning a small blaze.
     "Geb me am ebthimwither," the Exec said to Yeoman Watson,
just now getting to her feet.
     "Sir?" The blonde-maned beauty asked, unable to understand
Coty through his growing speech impediment.
     "Ebthimwither!" Coty repeated.
     "I'm sorry, I don't understand, sir," the Yeoman almost
whimpered.
     "Fiba!  Boo you umbathamb fiba?" the exasperated Exec
pleaded, pointing at the chair, now fully engulfed in flames.
     "Oh! A fire extinguisher," the Yeoman shouted with glee,
turning and racing to the engineer's station and retrieving one
from beneath the console.  She sprinted back and hosed the chair
thoroughly, quenching the fire.
     Turning toward the Communications station, the Commander was
pleased to see Ensign Bell seated and looking his way
expectantly.
     "Awex, geb me embimeerim.
     "Sorry, sir.  The entire comm-system is down, the Ensign
responded.
     "Wumerfur," the acting Captain sighed.
     "Commander," Lieutenant Coffey interjected, still kneeling
beside the Captain.  "The Captain really needs a doctor."
     "Okay," the Commander acknowledged.
     "Yeoman Wabfon, go boo figbay am geb a mebig ub here. Thab!"
     The Yeoman paused a moment before recognition showed on her
face, "Sickbay? Get a medic?"
     Coty nodded and immediately wished he hadn't, as his broken
nose throbbed painfully with every movement of his head.  Turning
back to his Comm-specialist, Coty spoke, "Awex, go geb a
commumicaforv for me.  Have hum ome bifibrube commumicafors boo
ewery beparbmem - ebfegiry emgimeerim.  Am geb fum wum fum
emgimeerim boo cum fix ba gamn comm-fiffum."
     "Aye, sir," Bell said, crossing to the turbolift, surprised
to find the Yeoman waiting impatiently for the doors to open. 
Brushing past her, Bell flipped open the diagnostics panel to the
right of the doors.  It only took a moment before he turned to
Coty and said, "No go, sir.  Lift is off-line."
     "Bamn!"
     "We'll use the access ladders at the front of the bridge,
"Bell said, already striding purposefully across the room.
     "Berry werr," Coty acknowledged.
     When the access door to the ladders jammed half open, Bell
turned, surprised to find the Yeoman was not behind him.  Seeing
her still standing by the turbolift, like a deer caught in
headlights, Bell waved her over, saying, "Come quickly, Watson. 
I need you."


[ENGINEERING - USS ORISKANY -- 2008 hours]

     Chief Petty cursed, using oaths from three different
Federation languages.  Unable to contact anyone on the intercom,
and with much of the computer system off-line or erratic, the
Engineer was left to do his best to get the situation under
control.  But he felt as if he were deaf, dumb, and blind.  He
had been one of the lucky ones when they had hit the nebula.  A
sprained left wrist and a number of bruises were his only battle
scars.  But trying to repair delicate electronics with only one
good hand was proving problematical.  He cursed again from
beneath the console as his left wrist shifted painfully.
     "Chief?  Chief Petty?" a soft, lilting voice cooed.
     Over here," the Chief shouted, buried up to his waist in the
console.
     Cindy Lou knelt beside the Chief's legs.  "It's a real mess,
Chief.  The Rec Deck was bedlam.  Everyone was thrown to the fore
wall.  Even with the padding and other safety measures, there
were a lot of injuries.  Most weren't serious.  But . . . "
     "I know, I know," the Chief grumbled.  "I'm sure it was the
same all over the ship.  I started out with a double crew, and
I'm left with a third of the duty stations unmanned.  Of course,
a third of the stations aren't working, so that sort of worked
itself out.  I'd just hate to be in your father's shoes."

[SICKBAY - USS ORISKANY -- 2012 hours]

     "Hold still," Nurse Annette Cole snapped at Izzy Hu as she
attempted to put the finishing touches on repairing her boss'
ankles.
     "Then stop tickling," the doctor snapped back, wiggling the
toes on his bare feet.
     "If you hadn't been sitting in that fool antique you call a
chair . . . "
     "Just because it has wheels does not make it an antique,"
the doctor countered.  "OWW!!"
     "There, I'm done," the nurse announced smugly.  "But it will
be at least 48 hours before you can walk on it."
     "I know the routine, Annette.  Now get me a wheelchair."
     "But . . . "
     "No buts, Nurse.  We both know that there are going to be
injuries all over the ship.  You're going to have to make house
calls.  I'll hold down the fort down here."
     "In a wheelchair?"
     "I'll manage.  I'm used to a chair with wheels, you know,"
he answered with a devious smile.
     "You're impossible," the nurse sighed.
     "Yes, but I am capable of working without Annette," he said
with a twinkle in his eyes.
     Nurse Cole smiled despite herself.  Before she could think
of a choice response, though, Yeoman Leanna Watson burst into the
examination room.  "Doctor, come quickly.  The Captain needs
you," she panted.
     "Doctor Hu can't go anywhere," Nurse Cole answered.
     "Can you bring him here?" Izzy asked, hopefully.
     Holding her side, Leanna tried to catch her breath.  "No go
. . . " she wheezed.  "All the turbolifts are off-line."
     "The nature of his injuries?" Hu asked.
     "He was thrown . . butt-first into the viewscreen, the
Yeoman explained, her breathing finally coming under control. 
"When I left the bridge, he was unconscious and he had multiple
shards from the viewscreen stuck in his . . . back."
     "Annette . . . " Doctor Hu started, but Nurse Cole was
already in motion.
     "I'm on my way," she said, grabbing several instruments from
the shelf beside the examination table.  She hurried toward the
door, throwing the strap of the medikit over her shoulder as she
went.
     Yeoman Watson started after her until the doctor called to
her, "Watson, come back here.  I need you."

[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY -- 2020 hours]

     Commander Coty sat at the navigation console, looking
curiously at the imprint of Lisa Ware's face etched into the helm
controls.  The triage hadn't taken long.  With the exception of
the Captain and Lisa Ware, everyone had survived the collision
relatively intact.  Though his concern for the Captain nagged at
the back of his thought, he knew that would have to wait.  The
ship came first.
     Finally done with seeing to the injured, Coffey returned to
the science station.  With helm control still off-line, scanning
ahead would be of little use.  But with the viewscreen destroyed,
he needed to make sure their course had not been somehow altered
by the collision with the nebula.
     "Whab buv ib rook wike?" Coty asked his S.O.
     Joe paused.  "Just a moment, Commander.  Forty percent of
the sensor array is off-line.  And these readings are . . . oh my
God."
     "Whub?" Coty asked, alarmed.
     "Sir, we're in a subspace distortion vortex."
     "Are you feriouf?"
     "As a heart attack," Coffey answered, his hands gliding over
the console as his eyes remained firmly fixed on his readout
scope.
     "Emmy way boo gib owb of ib?"
     "Sure.  Disengage the warp drive."
     Commander Coty hung his head and groaned.  "Emmy more goob
mewv?"
     "Unfortunately, yes sir.  The vortex shows signs of
destabilizing," Coffey said grimly.
     "Boo whub affeck?" Coty asked reluctantly.
     "As it destabilizes, the ride will get a bit rough.  But if
it collapses completely and we're inside . . . the ship will
either be crushed, or we'll travel inter-dimensionally and end up
God knows where."
     The Exec paused, rifling through options and concerns before
speaking.  "Buv ba keef neeb boo mo abowb vif before he
bifimgavif ba warp bribe?"
     "Almost certainly, sir."
     "Go.  We camb wabe for Awex.  Geb bown boo emgimerrim am heb
ba keef.  Bub geb back up here ab foom ab we're owb of warp."
     "Aye, sir," the S.O. said as he headed around the bridge
toward the forward exit.  He almost stepped on Annette Cole's
head as she climbed up the last few rungs of the access ladder. 
Joe offered a hand, and when she took it, he all but threw her
onto the bridge before disappearing down the passageway in a
blur.
     Nurse Cole nearly tripped over the Captain, still lying face
down under what used to be the forward viewscreen.  As she pulled
out her hand held bioscanner, she thought that with the multitude
of shards protruding from the Captain's back, he looked like the
carcass of a small dinosaur.  After a quick scan, she adjusted
her hypospray and administered a pain killer.
     She moved to Lt. Ware, lying unconscious beside the Captain. 
After a brief scan, she administered another hypo.  "I really
need to get both of these people to sick bay," Annette said,
turning toward Coty.  Only then did she notice his blood-stained
tunic and the comically grotesque weapon's control schematic
etched onto his face.
     "Burbowiff iv off-wime.  Amb I camb compack ba pramborver
room becaube ba comm-fifbum iv off-wime, boo," Coty said with
effort.
     Before Annette could reply, Alex Bell's head popped up out
of the ladder well.  "I'm back, sir.  And I've got a communicator
and an Engineer's Mate with me," he said as he stepped onto the
bridge and turned to help the young crewman behind him up the
last two rungs.
     "Goob.  Bib you geb a bamave reporb?"
     "Aye, sir.  Though only a cursory one.  A lot of the
diagnostics are down, and Chief Petty said he'd relay a full
report ASAP.  As it stands, the comm-system, transporters,
turbolifts and library computer are all down.  We still don't
have helm control, but he said that is his number one priority,
and he should get the warp engines disengaged in the next half
hour."  Bell paused, still short of breath from his trip through
the ship's bowels.
     As he took the communicator from Bell, Coty paused and
turned to the Engineer's Mate almost hiding behind Bell's left
shoulder.  "Crewmem.  Whab iv your mame?"
     "Deere, sir.  Technician, second class," the cadet squeaked,
holding his tool box up as if to demonstrate his sincerity.
     "Your febbleby?"
     "Excuse me, sir?" Deere asked, unable to understand the
Exec's words.
     Bell interjected, "Your specialty, John."
     "Oh! My primary area of study is tractors," he smiled.
     "Brabe," Coty sighed, "Bare ba rafb fifbum we meeb righb
moww."
     The crewman practically deflated.
     "I meeb you boo feck owb every comfowe, amb gib me am
ebimabe of how womg for repairs."
     "Aye, sir," he said heading for the engineering console near
the turbolift.
     "Awex, whab abow weapoms?"
     "They appeared unaffected at first glance," Bell said,
retaking his seat at his station.  He began removing the cover to
the comm-system console as he continued, "But, the Chief was
pretty worked up about not having reliable data on just about
everything.  He did say that the hull had not been breached, and
life support was one hundred percent, but he wouldn't guarantee
anything else."
     "Umberfoob.  Awex, you feem boo umberfamb me bebber bem
everywum.  I meeb you boo reway my orberv for me."
     The Ensign set the console panel down and raised his hands. 
Coty tossed him the communicator.
     "Firb fimg we meeb iv a brib crew.  Geb fumwome up here."
     "Aye, sir," Alex said, flipping open the small box.
     "Muf Cowe, I'm afraib you're fruck here.  Boo ba befb you
cam," Coty said, turning his attention back to the Captain.
     The nurse just glared at the Exec, having already removed
two of the shards protruding from the Captain's back.  She
reached for another with her right hand with the tissue mender
held ready in her left to seal the wound once the shard was
removed.  Then the vibrations began.
     It started as a low rumble, like distant thunder.  Everyone
on the ship paused when they heard it.  Everyone started working
faster when they felt it.  It wasn't violent, in fact, initially
it was almost relaxing, as if the entire ship was getting a sonic
massage.  But as the trembling grew, the delicate work of
repairing advanced electronics became increasingly difficult.  As
the seconds ticked by, the trembling grew into an all out
shaking.
     As the shaking grew worse, becoming a violent jerking, Coty
turned to Bell and shouted, "Geb me ba keef.  We have boo geb owb
of warp bribe moww!"
     As Bell moved to adjust the frequency, the Engineering
console exploded, sending sparks, flames, and crewman Deere
flying.  Commander Coty, swiveled around in his chair at the
weapons console, did not have time to duck.  Reflexively, he
reached out and caught Deere's body, knocking the wind out of
him, but otherwise suffering no further injury.
     As he looked down at Deere's limp body, cradled in his arms
like a 165 pound baby boy, it took the Exec a moment to realize
the shaking had stopped.  In fact, the entire ship had stopped,
the silent engines somehow both comforting and disquieting.  Only
now, in its absence did the dull drone of the engines seem so
loud.
     Crewman Deere opened his eyes, surprised to see Commander
Coty's bizarre face hovering over him.  The Engineering console
will probably take several hours to fix, sir," the crewman
sputtered, between muscle spasms.
     Coty chuckled.  "You pook quibe a vobe, crewmam.  Are you
okay?"
     Deere looked around, only then realizing where he was.  He
scrambled out of the Exec's arms and stood, albeit wobbly.
     "Murf Cowe, I fink you ougb boo rook ab crewmam Beere."
     Annette glanced back and forth between the Captain's prone
form and Deere.  She ignored the crewman's hair, standing
frightfully straight up.  She ignored his charred and rumpled red
tunic.  But she did not ignore his eyes.  Even halfway across the
bridge she could see them glazing over.
     She crossed the distance quickly, speaking to the Exec even
as she scanned and treated the Engineer's Mate.  "I would think
getting the Captain taken care of would be a higher priority,
Commander."
     "Ib wuv.  Bub we're owb of warp moww."
     "Sir," Ensign Bell interrupted.  "It's the Chief," he said,
offering the communicator back to the Exec.
     Coty waved him off.  "Reporb."
     Bell adjusted the volume, so all on the bridge could hear
the Chief speak.  "It's a mess down here, but we've got helm
control restored.  Warp drive will be off-line for about ten
minutes.  That drop out did some extra damage.  But impulse power
is available if you need it.  The turbo-lifts are a complete
mess. I think every one was knocked off its tracks."
     "Whub abow pramporberv?"
     Bell relayed the question.
     "Shouldn't take too long for 'em, but I'm short handed, and
without the turbo-lifts, getting around the ship to affect
repairs is a royal pain.  Give me thirty minutes and we should be
a starship again.  That is, assuming we don't have any more
computer surprises."
     "Understood.  Lieutenant Commander Watt is looking into that
problem, Chief.  Let us know when we're ready to start back
toward home," Bell relayed the Exec's orders.  "Bridge out."


[Turbo-lift #2 - USS ORISKANY -- 2030 hours]

     Charlie Watt groaned and slowly opened his eyes.  The light
above him flickered erratically.  As consciousness oozed back
into his body, he slowly struggled to his feet.  He grasped the
lift control bar and was surprised when he sensed no movement. 
"Bridge", he said, activating the intercom.  Nothing.
     How long have I been out?  "Irrelevant," he said aloud to
break the eerie silence of his cage.  "I've got to get out of
this jail cell, regardless of how long I've been out," he added,
answering his own question.
     Using the lift-controller as a step, he hoisted himself up,
and punched the emergency escape hatch open with a single blow. 
Once on top of the lift, he cursed, finding all the safety lights
in the shaft dead.  Groping blindly, he finally managed to find
the maintenance ladder running the length of the shaft.

[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY -- 2045 hours]

     "Scanning," Joe Coffey said, thankful to be back at his
station.
     As the Science Officer adjusted his equipment, Coty swiveled
in his chair at the weapons console, scanning the bridge crew he
had managed to assemble.  Coffey at the Science station and Bell
at Communications were his only experienced officers.  Cadet
Charlotte Webb sat at the helm, running her fingers gently along
the depression made by Lieutenant Ware's face.  Her short, black
hair made her look professional and efficient.  Cindy Lou Hu was
hard at work, trying to repair the engineering console, while
crewman Deere assisted Bell in trying to get the comm-system back
on-line.
     "Commander Coty," Lieutenant Coffey said with such a grave
tone several heads turned to hear what would follow.  "We're not
where we're supposed to be."
     "Bem where are we?"
     "At the Klingon border.  We're in the neutral zone."
     "Whab?"
     Everyone present knew the import of Coffey's words.
     "Boo you befeck emmy warp emiffumv?"
     "No sir,.  Nothing on long . . . wait a sec.  At extreme
range, a very faint energy fluctuation."
     Commander Coty reacted without hesitation.  "Immifiabe
firemb rummim."
     Alex Bell flipped his communicator open and called to
Engineering.  "Chief, initiate silent running procedures
immediately.  We're in the Klingon neutral zone and may have
detected a ship in the area."
     "What?!?" Chief Petty replied in disbelief.
     "Crove vab commumicavor, Awex.  Ib iv mob a fecure pamer!"
Commander Coty was visibly agitated.
     Ensign Bell flipped the communicator shut.  "Sir, the comm-
system is till off-line.  How will we give orders to
engineering?"
     "You pell me.  Geb fumpim workim, amb fab!"
     Crewman Deere interrupted.  "Um, sirs.  The main problem
with the comm-system is the routing switcher is shot.  But the
connections are pretty much intact."
     "Your poimb, crewmum?"
     "I see," Bell answered excitedly.  "The P/A."  He turned to
face the Commander.  "With the P/A, you can issue commands
shipwide.  The appropriate personnel will do their jobs."
     "Bub whab abow comfirmafum?"
     "Sorry, sir.  We can try to jury rig a router to send all
signals here to the bridge, but it will take twenty or thirty
minutes to get it up and running."
     "Okay.  Cimby Woo, come here amb pake over ba weapom
comfowe," the Exec said, vacating his seat.
     The petite engineer crossed the distance quickly, but pulled
up short.  "I can't do this, sir."
     "Whab?  You mow how boo rum ba weapom fifbumv, bome you?"
     "Yes, sir.  But I don't have the schematic memorized.  And .
. . well, it's tatooed onto your face, sir," she explained.
     "Pam we primp owb a femabic?"
     "Library computer is still off-line, sir," Coffey answered
from the science station.
     "I have an idea," Deere said, grabbing his tool box and
moving toward the Exec.
     "Whab iv your ibea, Beere?"
     "I can transfer the diagram on your face back to the
console."
     "How?" Coty asked skeptically.
     "With this," he said with a smile, pulling a small plastic
egg from his toolbox and breaking it in two.  A small ball of
pinkish putty dropped easily into his palm.  As he began working
the putty with his hands, the Engineer's Mate explained, "I'll
press this putty onto your face, which will lift the diagram off. 
Then we can just lay the putty over the blank spot."
     "Bub wome ba pubby be prebbim om ba comprobe?"
     "I can make the putty thin enough that it won't set off any
controls, sir."
     "Okay, boo ib."
     With the putty already rolled out and flattened to paper
thinness, Deere placed it gingerly onto the Exec's face.  Though
Nurse Cole had set his broken nose, Coty had refused any pain
killer, unwilling to risk dulling his senses with the Captain out
of commission.
     "Ow! Oh! Bamb!" Coty moaned and cursed.
     "Sir, you need to keep your mouth closed for this to work,"
Deere chided.
     The Exec complied, moaning through clenched teeth as the
Engineer's Mate continued to press the putty onto his skin.
     "Cindy Lou, can you coat the spot on the panel with some
ultragoo?" Deere requested.
     She reacted instantly, shuffling through the toolbox and
getting a large tube out in seconds.  She said, "Okay," when she
had finished applying the adhesive to the console top.  "I
deactivated the panel, too."
     John nodded, then carefully peeled the mask off the Exec,
listening to Coty's every grunt and groan.  Finally, he had a
paper thin pink oval with a surprisingly clear copy of the
weapons console.  With extra care, Deere lined up the edge
markings with those still on the panel and pressed it into place.
     "Be careful not to tear the putty, Cindy Lou.  You don't
want to get your finger stuck to the ultragoo," John said, moving
away from the console and motioning toward the chair.
     "You don't have to remind me," the Ensign said with a smile.
     Coty looked at the charred remains of the Captain's chair
and with a sigh stepped up and sat down.  The fabric crunched and
a plume of soot shot outward as he settled in.
     "Coffey, emmyfim om vab emery frux?"
     "Sorry sir.  With only passive sensors there's no chance,"
the S.O. answered grimly.
     "Umberfoob.  Emfim Hu.  Warm ba phaverv, amb begim armim ba
phopom porpebove."
     "Sir, with the warp engines shut down . . . "
     "I moe.  Bub you cam arm 'em wum ab a pime uvim ba
reabforv."
     "Aye, sir," Cindy Lou responded, her tiny fingers gliding
gently over the control panel.
     "Herm, burm uf boo fafe ba emermy forf, am back away from
ib."
     "Aye, sir," Charlotte answered, silently praying she had
understood the Commander.
     Coty was silently praying that there wasn't an enemy ship
out there, hiding in the dark.

[BRIDGE - IKV ANTAGONIST -- 2045 hours]

     "Lord Kagan, picking up . . . lost it," the Sensor Operator
frowned.
     "What was it, Kato?"
     "Unable to tell, my Lord.  A very faint energy fluctuation,"
the S.O. answered working feverishly with his controls trying to
reacquire the anomaly.
     Warp signature?"  Kagan asked hopefully.  But he dismissed
the idea, knowing it would be another day or two before their
quarry arrived.
     "Impossible to tell for certain.  It was hardly discernible
from standard background noise.  But my guess would be a
transmission rather than an emission."
     "Explain."
     The S.O. cursed at his equipment, flipping one last switch,
then turned to face his Captain.  "Warp signals are usually
unorganized.  They . . . leak out randomly with little evidence
of an intelligence behind them.  It's just the innate difference
from natural radiation sources that makes them easily detectable. 
This signal was too . . . organized.  It suggested an
intelligence at work behind it."
     "A communication beam?"
     "Possibly.  But it could have also been a scanning beam, a
residual echo from a locator beacon, or even a stray broadcast
from a Federation propaganda buoy."
     Kagan considered this for a moment.  "What about direction,
bearing and speed?"
     "Not enough signal to tell.  It definitely came from a
source in our forward arc, but I have no idea whether it was
stationary or moving, and no idea as to distance.  If it does
recur, though, I've programmed the computer to lock on and trace
immediately," Kato added.
     "Very well.  We will wait here a little while to see if it
reappears.  If not, we will move a short way toward Federation
space and fire a probe."
     "By your command," Kato replied, returning his attention to
his scanners.
     "Klutz, what is the latest ETA for the Widowmaker?"
     "Um, I believe . . . eighteen hours, my Lord," the Navigator
sputtered.  He was normally third shift helmsman, and he had
gotten used to avoiding Kagan's presence.  Unfortunately, the
previous Chief Helmsman was dead, and now Klutz was pulling
double shifts.
     Kagan suppressed a snarl, wishing the poorest excuse for a
Klingon was anywhere but on his ship.  Krunch had been an
excellent officer, and Kagan knew he would have made an excellent
Captain one day.  But casualties happened, and Krunch had died
bravely, saving Kagan from a rock slide caused by the savage cave
dwellers they had found on their last planetary excursion.
     "That should be in plenty of time, assuming Kaerless stays
on schedule," Kagan muttered.
     "What do we know of this . . . Kaerless, Captain?" Kato
asked, his eyes never straying from his equipment.
     "Not nearly enough," Kagan snorted.  "All I've been told is
that he has arranged to 'steal' a Federation Cruiser and deliver
it into our hands, at these coordinates, roughly thirty hours
from now."
     "Do you think he'll succeed?" Kato asked, his own doubts
showing in his tone.
     "The flatheads are weak, but they are not stupid.  I doubt
he will get this far with a full Cruiser.  But we will wait and
see until ordered elsewhere.  Of course, once the Widowmaker
arrives, if he does get this far, we shall have a great prize."
     "Of that there is no doubt," Kato said with an evil grin.

[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY -- 2055 hours]

     "Second photon armed to standard, beginning third.  Phaser
capacitors at forty-four percent," Cindy Lou announced.
     "There!" Alex Bell broke in.  "P/A is available, Commander."
     "Goob.  Go boo reb awerp.  Expwaim be fipwuafum."
     Alex opened the channel and spoke, "Now hear this.  Now hear
this.  Red Alert.  I repeat, Red Alert.  We are currently in the
Klingon neutral zone.  Our collision with the nebula created a
warp distortion, which dumped us out here.  We detected what may
have been ship emissions at extreme sensor range.  That is why we
are now using silent running protocols.  Do NOT use communicators
until told otherwise.  The Captain is currently unconscious, but
in stable condition.  Commander Coty is in command.  The comm-
system is still off-line, so orders cannot be confirmed.  As soon
as the comm-system is back on-line we will let you know," Ensign
Bell closed the channel and shot Coty a questioning look.
     "When ba phobomv are aw armb, I wamb boo rebarb ba warp
embimv, amb boo a bro rebrograbe owb of ba muebra vome," Coty
explained.
     Bell relayed the instructions, and then waited for the order
to restart the engines.  His wait was interrupted by Lieutenant
Coffey.
     "What the . . . this can't be . . . " he said, his hands
flying over his controls.
     "Photons all armed and held," Cindy Lou announced from the
weapons console.
     "Whab iv ib, Coffey?" Coty asked his S.O.
     "Fire control is coming up and active scanning is
commencing."
     Coty's face paled.  Even behind the tattooed schematic, his
shock was obvious to all looking at him.  "Ba fabepeur," he
whispered through a suddenly dry throat.  "I borgob abow ba bam
fabepeur," the Commander cursed himself.  "Geb Wabb up here," he
said to Bell.
     "Lieutenant Commander Watt report to the bridge.  I repeat,
Lieutenant Commander Watt, report to the bridge on the double."
     Coty waited for the echoes of Bell's words to fade before
saying, "Geb ba Keef.  Rebarb ba warp bribe."

[BRIDGE - IKV ANTAGONIST -- 2057 hours]

     "I have it, sir!" Kato shouted triumphantly.
     "Battlestations," Kagan said without pause.  "Load
scatterpack and arm phasers.  Move toward that signal."
     As the D7 turned and gathered speed, Kagan considered his
luck.  His prey was early.  Taking a Cruiser with the help of a
Commando ship would have been simple.  Doing so on his own was
another matter.  However, were the Widowmaker present, it would
certainly receive the lion's share of the credit were they
successful.  Now the job would be more difficult, but the glory
and rewards much greater.  And unlike their allies, the Romulans,
the flatheads did not have the stomach for suicide.  If they
could but cripple the Fed ship, he might still hold it here long
enough for the Widowmaker to arrive.
     "Send to Captain Kidnapp.  Package has arrived early.  Come
quickly or you will miss the party.  Kagan out."


[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY - 2100 hours]

     "Murf Cowe, camb you revive ba Capbim?" Coty asked
hopefully.
     "I wouldn't advise it," she answered.
     "Murf.  We're abow boo meeb a Krimom pip.  Berry poffibry im
combab.  Cam you wabe ba Capim or mob?"
     She frowned, then answered, "Okay."
     As the nurse pulled out her hypospray and adjusted the
setting, Charlotte Webb cleared her throat and started to speak,
but stopped before saying anything.
     "Whab iv i, Webb?"
     "Um, sir.  Helm indicates ten percent warp power available. 
Should I increase speed?"
     "Sir, picking up warp signature on intercept course, Joe
Coffey said before Coty could answer.
     "Mo! Maimpaim feeb.  Raive fiebv," Coty said gravely.
     "Shields up," Cindy Lou announced.
     "It does appear to be a Klingon ship approaching at combat
speed," Coffey said.  "Unable to identify hull due to library
computer being off-line.  But it's big.  Almost certainly size
class three."
     "Probably a Commando Cruiser," Captain Tuna said from his
position on the floor.
     "Captain! You're awake," Coty exclaimed.
     "God, I hope not," Tuna replied with a groan.  "Status
report."
     Coty waved at Bell to answer.
     "We're in the neutral zone.  Comm-system is off-line.  We're
coming off silent running and are in mid-warp engine restart. 
Photons are armed to standard and held.  Phasers are about half
armed.  We're at about a third normal power.  We're doing a slow
retrograde away from an unidentified Klingon ship, and it seems
our saboteur reactivated active scanners to get the attention of
the Klingons."
     "Looks like Charlie was right," Reg said.
     "I'm afraid so," the Security Chief said, pulling himself up
the last rung and stepping onto the bridge.
     "Where ba herr have you beem?"  Coty demanded.
     Watt glared at the First Officer.  "Sorry, sir.  I was
knocked out and trapped in a turbolift.  I only got out of the
shaft minutes ago."
     "Any progress on finding our culprit?" the Captain asked.
     "I'm afraid not, sir.  I was chasing a lead just before we
hit the nebula, which is why I was in the turbolift, but it
didn't pan out."
     "Unfortunate.  Charlie, so far our mole has done all his
dirty work via the computer, and he has your computer codes. 
What's our best chance for neutralizing his use of computers?"
     "Well, I tried changing my codes, sir.  But, apparently, he
had anticipated this."
     "What about deleting yourself?"
     "Excuse me?" Watt blanched.
     "If we delete your entire file of codes, we might stop him,"
Reg suggested.
     Charlie paused, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.  "But
if he's foreseen that particular measure, I'd have no hope of
catching or stopping him, sir."
     "True.  But we have to try.  If he attempts something in the
middle of combat, it could prove disastrous.  If my plan doesn't
work, I can then grant you complete Captain's privileges with my
codes for you to continue your hunt."
     "I see, sir.  Very well."
     "Computer, delete all access codes and privileges associated
with Lieutenant Commander Charlie Watt."
     "Unable to access library records for deletion," the
computer replied.
     "Fine, fine.  Delete any active codes and protocols
associated with him."
     After a moment, the computer responded with a chime and the
word, "Done."
     "Sir, since I no longer have computer access, I request
assignment to boarding party duty," Charlie said calmly.
     "Very well.  Report to transporter room three," the Captain
ordered.
     Charlie turned and headed for the exit as Lieutenant Coffey
spoke.  "Klingon entering extreme phaser range."
     Reg had to quell the urge to say 'on screen'.  "Ship class?"
     "Still can't tell, sir," Coffey sighed.
     "Okay.  I want transporters ready as well as a wild weasel
for drone defense.  Continue the retrograde at warp one point
six.  Put any additional power into phasers.  What's our total
power look like now anyway?"
     As Bell relayed the Captain's orders over the P/A, Charlotte
Webb answered, "Half normal power.  Forty percent of warp power
on-line and available."
     "Hail them, Bell," Tuna ordered.
     "Comm-system still off-line, sir."
     "Then use a damn communicator!" Reginald yelled in
frustration.
     "They're jamming all frequencies.  A communicator signal
would have no chance of getting through the interference.
     "So we can't surrender, bluff, or call for help," the
Captain sighed.  "We'll have to convince them to give up with our
weapons alone.  Arm the photons as proxes and fire at maximum
range, IF the Klingons don't have any ECM up."
     Bell repeated the orders as Commander Coty moved to the
Captain's side.  "Are you fure?  We wome have muff power poo
rearm 'em wiff."
     "But they don't know that.  And I expect the Chief will have
us at full power by the time they get close.  Man your station
Bill."
     "Aye sir," Coty acknowledged before moving to the weapons
console and waving Ensign Hu out of his chair.
     
[TRANSPORTER ROOM #2 - USS ORISKANY -- 2105 hours]

     "He canna mean what you tink, mon," Will Marrow said to his
brother.
     "But da Cap'n said he'd do it wid da first Klingon ship he
saw, you know.  And he said to power up da transporters right
before he said to prepare Wylde's weasel, mon.  What else could
he mean?" Marshall Marrow questioned.
     "But why?" Will asked.
     "I dunno, mon.  Maybe it be a peace offerin', ya know."
Marsh knew it was an unlikely explanation, but it was all he
could think of.
     "So who goes and gets da beast?"
     "I will, mon," Marsh volunteered, heading for the door.  As
he stepped through the portal, he turned back to his brother and
added, "But you got ta tell Ronnie when all dis be over."  The
doors swished shut before Will could protest.

[BRIDGE - IKV ANTAGONIST - 2106 hours]

     "It IS the Federation Cruiser we were expecting, sir," Kato
said happily.
     "Any communication?" Kagan asked.
     "None sir," the Comm-sergeant answered.
     "Hail them."
     Kagan waited for the ugly face of a human to appear on his
viewscreen.  When it didn't he barked at his Comm-Officer. 
"Well?!?"
     "No answer to our hails, sir."
     Kagan arched an eyebrow.  "Curious."
     "We are nearing their extreme photon range, sir.  Should I
activate electronic counter measures?" Kato asked.
     "No.  The Feds won't fire first -- at least not while in the
neutral zone -- and I am not ready to provoke them.  Just
continue closing at warp two point seven.  Arm standard
disruptors when we get in . . . "
     The ship shuddered as a pair of prox photons impacted the
forward shield.  "Divert batteries!" Kagan shouted reflexively.
     "Forward shield down sixteen percent," Kato reported.
     "Turn right.  Come to course oh-four-five mark two," Kagan
ordered calmly.  "Repair shield with all due haste.  Maintain
speed, but approach obliquely.  And get me that Federation
Captain on screen now!"  Only the last words were spoken with
emotion.  Kagan's words had been thrown back in his face, and he
didn't like it.
     "No response, sir."
     "Blast!" Kagan shouted, slamming his fist down on his chair
arm.  The plan was not progressing anything close to predicted.




[SICKBAY - USS ORISKANY - 2107 hours]

     Marsh Marrow glided through the throng of people jamming the
corridors leading to sickbay.  As he stepped inside the main
doors to Medical, he immediately saw Veronica Wylde's ferret. 
Several crew members were sticking their fingers through the wire
grate of the animal's cage, some with food and others just trying
to touch the furry creature.
     "Excuse me, Cap'n's orders, ya know," he said, grabbing the
handle on top of the carry-cage, and gliding out of the room as
quickly as he came.

[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY -- 2107 hours]

     "Two hits sir.  They appear to have diverted battery power
to reinforce the shield, though," Coffey reported.
     "We're up to two thirds total power," Charlotte Webb
announced.
     "Good.  Keep the weasel and transporters armed for drone
defense.  Give me one full overload and one half overload and two
standard photons."
     "Aye sirs," came back from multiple directions.
     "If they hit with disruptors, don't divert battery power. 
We may need the power to finish the photons," Reg added. 
"Maintain warp one point six retrograde."

[SHUTTLE BAY - USS ORISKANY -- 2107 hours]

     "But someone should go tell the Captain we can't arm a
weasel," the young crewman said to his roommate and friend.
     "Listen.  Our only hope of getting one armed is for both of
us to keep working on this shuttle.  As soon as we can replace
the electronics assembly, I'll start preparing it, and you can go
tell the Captain what's up.  But until then you're gonna stay
here and help me with this."
     "Okay," the crewman sighed and returned to the task at hand.

[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY -- 2109 hours]

     "Klingons firing!"
     The ship shuddered ever so slightly.
     "Only one hit," Coffey said thankfully.  "Hmmm, Chief Petty
must have gotten a little extra power from somewhere.  Only
minimum damage to forward shield."
     "Excellent.  Finish tubes one and two as full overloads, and
bring tube three to full overload as well.  Keep number four as a
standard.  Any extra power the Chief gets us, transfer to EW -
divide it evenly," the Captain ordered.
     "Klingon at 23Kk and closing on oblique course.  He's
repairing his number one," Coffey said.
     "If he's smart, he'll come to 90K and peck at us before he
closes," Reg said calmly.
     "He's turning to parallel, maintaining orientation to his
number six shield," Charlotte announced, her voice edgy.
     "Closing to 120,000 kilometers.  One-ten.  One hundred."
     The ship rocked again.
     "Number six shield down by a third," Coffey reported.  "He's
launching drones and a shuttle."
     "Give him our number one, Charlotte," the Captain ordered.
"Keep him in our forward arc.  Attempt to ID the drones and then
fire phasers five and six when they reach 30k."  Reg waited until
the last instant to decide, then added, "Fire four," as the ship
turned sluggishly.  The single photon leapt from the CA and
against the odds, found its mark.
     "Klingon number six also down a third!" Coffey said
triumphantly.
     Captain Tuna smiled.
     "One drone identified as a type one and destroyed.  Second
drone unidentified and still coming after sustaining minimum
phaser damage at this range," Coty added.
     
[BRIDGE - IKV ANTAGONIST -- 2110 hours]

     "This Federation Captain is unorthodox and lucky.  Slow to
warp two point five.  Set electronics at level one beta on both
sides.  Divert all remaining power to reinforce the number one
shield," Kagan commanded.
     "What about disruptors, my Lord?"
     "I GAVE my orders, now follow them," Kagan spat at his over-
eager weapons officer.

[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY -- 2110 hours]

     "Hold overloads.  Rearm tube four as a standard.  Power both
tractors and keep the weasel and transporters warm.  Give me
power for a high energy turn.  I want level two ECM and level one
baker counter EW.  Recharge phasers to one hundred percent and
put anything else on our nose," Captain Tuna ordered.  "And use a
light phaser to finish off that first drone."
     "Klingon slowing to warp two point five.  Turning to new
course -- intercepting us.  We are now on each others' number one
shields," Charlotte said, her voice crackling with tension.
     "Scatter pack release.  Six bogies inbound," Coffey said. 
"Do you want to I.D.?"
     "No, Joe.  We'll weasel the SP drones.  Coty, I want you to
fire a full alpha at the last instant before we weasel.  Save the
right side phasers for any point blank launches.  We'll have the
tractors, phaser threes and transporters once we emerge from the
explosion phase of the weasel."
     "Aye, Cap'm," the Commander answered.
     Lieutenant Coffey counted off the range as the Klingon D7
and the drones closed in.  "Enemy units at 60Kk.  Drones pulling
ahead of the Cruiser."
     "Number two ship-launched drone destroyed," Coty announced
calmly.
     "SP drones now at fifty thousand kilometers . . . thirty . .
. D7 at fifty double kay . . . drones now at twenty . . . "
     "Firing alpha strike," Coty announced.

[BRIDGE - IKV ANTAGONIST -- 2111 hours]

     "Easy, Klutz.  Easy.  Give him the category five shot. 
He'll have nothing left when we get to point-blank.  But keep us
just off the center-line," Kagan said calmly.
     "Fed CA locking weapons," Kato interrupted.
     "Let the shield fall, but use batteries to stop internal
damage.  We'll need to drop the shield to board them anyway,"
Kagan smiled.
     The Klingon ship rocked violently as the Oriskany's weapons
smacked its forward shield.
     "Shield down.  No structural damage," Kato announced.
     "Yes!" Kagan exclaimed.
     "Batteries depleted, however."
     Kagan's smile disappeared as he sighed, "Unfortunate.  But
it will not matter."
     "Federation ship dropping its facing shield," Kato noted in
disbelief.
     "WHAT?!?"

[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY -- 2111 hours]

     "Two photons hit.  Average phaser damage," Coffey stated. 
"But no internal damage to the D7.  Massive reinforcement."
     "Launch weasel," the Captain said, praying the Klingon would
turn away.
     The order echoed through the ship.  In the shuttle bay, two
crewman both stopped their work and looked at the speaker that
the announcement had come from.  Then they looked at each other
and said in unison, "Ah-oh."
     In transporter room #2, Will Marrow, having already locked
onto the enemy bridge, activated the transporter.  The computer
took care of dropping the appropriate shield.  The tiny, furry
creature sitting calmly on the telepad looked up with a slightly
surprised expression as the transporter beam encircled him and he
vanished in a swirling gold haze.

[BRIDGE - IKV ANTAGONIST -- 2111 hours]

     Before anyone on the Klingon bridge could react, the
annoying whine from the Federation transporter beam filled the
room.  Three Security Guards drew their sidearms, looking
frantically for the boarding parties they expected to appear.  A
second after the hum ceased, one of the guards spotted the ferret
and took a bead on it.
     The poor animal, suddenly finding itself in unusual
surroundings with strange smells, sights and sounds assaulting
its senses, did what any animal in the same situation would do. 
It  bolted.  Leaping left, right and then up, the ferret ran
across the main weapons control panel.  The weapons officer made
a vain attempt to grab the animal, instead slamming his elbow
into the fire-control activate/deactivate button.  He pulled his
hand back instantly, as if it were burned badly.  His horror at
the consequences of his gaffe was shortlived.  The Klingon
Security guard was a good marksman.  But he was used to firing at
considerably larger targets.  His first shot took out the Weapons
Officer.  His second, the helm controls.  He didn't get off a
third as he collapsed with a scream of agony, caught in the
Captain's disruptor beam.
     Kagan screamed, "Cease fire!  Holster your weapons," even as
he returned his own sidearm to its proper place.  He took a
breath as he watched the others comply.
     Kagan listened intently for a moment -- then he heard a
scraping noise off to his right.  The Captain turned, attempting
to isolate the source of the noise.  Before he could do more than
twitch, though, a brown furry blur zipped across the deck and
through his legs.  Wheeling around, Kagan was just quick enough
to see the small creature pause at the bottom of the door to the
bridge.
     Well, it'll never be able to trigger the door sensors --
it's much too short, he thought just before the animal leapt
straight up at least a meter and a half.  The door swished open
and the animal was gone in a flash.
     Turning slowly, the Captain looked at one of the remaining
Security Guards and said, "Lieutenant Kage.  Go trap or kill that
beast, but do it with your blade.  Now go!"
     The young officer sped after the intruder as Kagan returned
his attention to the forward viewscreen and the Fed CA, sliding
off the left edge of the screen.
     "What?!?" Kagan shouted.  "Helm!  Why are we veering off?"

[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY -- 2111 hours]

     "Launch weasel!" Captain Reginald Tuna repeated desperately.
     Ensign Bell repeated the order over and over, his voice
echoing through the ship.  In the shuttle bay s pairs of crewmen
looked at each other and said.  "I think we're in REAL trouble."
     On the bridge, though, Captain Tuna was frantic.  "Stand by
on phasers."
     "Sir, forward shield dropping.  Transporters activated."
     "What?!?"  But he knew in an instant with total certainty,
that he had been betrayed.  The saboteur had won.  And with the
clarity of hindsight, he knew who had betrayed him.  "It was
Charlie," he said softly.  "He sold us out."
     "Captain!" Lieutenant Coffey said excitedly.  "Klingon fire
control is down.  Drones have gone inert!"
     It took a moment for this to register.  "What?" Tuna asked
again.
     "Klingon is changing course.  Turning away," Charlotte Webb
added.
     How could this be happening?  Why would they let me fire,
then turn away with a down screen facing them?  Tuna asked
himself.  Whatever the reason, it's time to get the heck out of
here!
     "Draw reserve warp.  Increase speed to warp two retrograde. 
Get that shield up at the first opportunity," he commanded.  What
the hell is going on?  He wondered as his ship began to
accelerate away from the Klingon Cruiser.

[BRIDGE - IKV ANTAGONIST -- 2112 hours]

     "The helm controls are destroyed, sir," the helmsman
explained.
     "And fire control is down," Kato added quickly.
     "What do you mean fire control is down?" Kagan raged.
     "When that thing ran across the weapons console it somehow
deactivated fire contorl," Kato explained.  "And when the helm
controls were blasted by the guard, a right turn was initiated."
     "Transfer flag to Auxilliary Control," Kagan ordered.
     "What are your orders, sir?" Kato asked.
     Kagan looked at the view of the Fed ship moving away slowly. 
He had timed everything perfectly -- making the Fed Captain waste
his alpha strike against his reinforced shield.  But he had
needed to take advantage then.  Though his fire control was
coming up, his ship was slowing, and it would take too long to
get back in on the Fed.  His chance to tractor the CA and board
her was past.  By the time he could close again, the Fed would
have his phasers back on line, plus one photon.  His SP was gone
as was his forward shield.  He cursed his luck silently, then
retook his chair.
     "Stand down from battle-stations," he said somberly. 
"Disengage by acceleration."  He slumped back into his command
chair, scowling at the receding form of the Federation ship on
his viewer.

[BRIDGE - USS ORISKANY -- 2112 hours]

     "Klingon showing no signs of pursuit.  Wait.  Detecting an
escape pod being jettisoned from the D7.  The Klingon is
accelerating away now.  No indication he is aware of the pod,"
Coffey noted.  "Klingon has gone to high warp and left sensor
range."
     "All stop," Captain Tuna said, wondering exactly what he had
just been party to.
     "Maintain alert status.  Recharge all weapons and accelerate
to warp two, forward trajectory.  I want to recover that life
pod."
     "Fir, ib coub be a prap," Coty warned.
     "Commander, they had us dead to rights.  We'll scan it
before bringing it on board.  But I really don't smell a trap
here."
     "Nurse Cole, go to sick bay and get a gurney for me.  Meet
me in the shuttle bay.  Order the transporter room to beam me,
Coffey and Cindy Lou to the shuttle bay.  Coty, you have the
Conn."
     "Aye, fir," the Commander said uneasily.
     The moment the Captain and others had disappeared, Coty
turned to Engineer's Mate Deere and said, "Beere, geb over here. 
My hamb iv fruck boo ba comfowe."  He pointed with his left hand
toward his right index finger -- firmly affixed to the weapons
console where he had ripped through the putty schematic.

[SHUTTLE BAY - USS ORISKANY 2120 hours]

     Reginald Tuna watched curiously from his prone position on
the gurney as the small life pod was slowly pulled through the
atmospheric force field into the shuttle bay.  When the bay doors
had closed, the nurse and Cindy Lou Hu wheeled him out of the
observation room into the bay proper.
     "Detecting one . . . no two life forms inside," Lieutenant
Coffey said, frowning at his tricorder.  "But readings are
erratic.
     Three red-shirted security officers stepped forward, their
phasers drawn and set on heavy stun.
     "Open it," the Captain ordered.
     The three security officers paused for a moment, discussing
something between themselves.  Standing in a tight circle the
Captain could not quite make out what they were doing, though it
appeared to be some sort of obscure alien ritual.  Each man
seemed to shake his right arm three times and then made a secret
hand gesture.  
     Two of the men stepped back, leaving Wyatt Dillon with a
pained expression on his face, muttering, "Come on guys, two out
of three?"  Sighing audibly, Wyatt stepped up and pressed a
button, wincing as the hatch to the pod slowly swung open with a
loud hiss.
     Everyone paused for a moment and then took a step back as a
Klingon head poked out from the sphere.  Clearly in pain, the
Klingon dragged himself out slowly, one hand wrapped around his
mid-section.  As he crawled all the way out, he attempted to
stand unsuccessfully.  It was only then everyone could see the
Klingon dagger thrust up to its hilt into his gut -- almost, but
not quite, in the position signifying Klingon ritual suicide.
     "That . . . that thing," he gasped, spitting up blood as he
collapsed to the deck.
     Nurse Cole started forward, but the Captain grabbed her by
the shoulder.  "Joe said two life signs."
     She stopped and everyone else waited.  Then a furry brown
animal stuck its nose out of the pod and sniffed.
     "Burnsie!" Cindy Lou shouted.
     The ferret spotted the Ensign, recognized her and dashed
straight to her, leaping into her arms.
     "Is that what I think it is?" Reg asked.
     "I don't know, sir," Cindy Lou answered.  "But it is
Veronica Wylde's ferret."
     "Wylde's ferret," Reg whispered.  "Wylde's weasel," he said
to no one.  "No, it couldn't be."

[EPILOGUE]

     "Captain's personal log entry, today's date," Reginald said,
taking his dinner from the food synthesizer in his quarters and
moving to his desk.
     "It was with great regret that I threw Lieutenant Commander
Watt into the Brig.  Though I still do not understand the reasons
behind his actions, he confessed to committing all the sabotage
we experienced during this cruise.  He still refuses to explain
why, which puzzles and annoys me.  But that is a problem for
Starfleet Command to consider.
     Although we will probably never know exactly what occurred
on board the Antagonist, it is safe to assume that Security
Specialist Veronica Wylde's pet weasel, er ferret, was somehow
responsible for saving the ship.  As thanks for this, I . . .
reluctantly granted her pet, Mister Burns, the honorary title of
Major of Marines.  To my knowledge he is the first ferret to ever
be credited with the killing of a Klingon Security Guard.
     Finally, although my concerns with the Marrow brothers' lack
of familiarity with shuttle operations were proven right, it was
in fact their actions that indirectly led to our escaping the
Klingon warship.  Given their situation, I cannot help but feel
that they acted accordingly.  I am therefore requesting that in
addition to the high marks which they have both earned during our
cruise, they both get citations for creativity and bravery in a
combat situation.  I further recommend they be graduated With
Honors.  End log entry."
     Reginald picked up his sandwich and took a bite, frowning
instantly.  "I didn't order tuna salad."