Intolerance - Part Three

"Explain." The first officer demanded, rushing to the sensors station. Aaen fingered over a large paragraph of sensor information, the first to the last of the current sensor log.

"Whatever the energy source of the alien shuttlecraft, the same energy signature exists at each point of impact on the alien shuttlecraft's hull. Who or whatever attacked that shuttle is using the same power source for their weapons." Aaen said. 

"You're saying the alien shuttle is stolen?" asked the first officer. 

"I'm saying: I think we need to have a chat with our new guest, sir." 

The right Damage Control Cadet turned to the command platform. "CO2 Scrubbers repaired." 

The bridge briefly filled with grateful cheers and clapping for the Damage Control Cadets. 

The sound of increasingly full blunt steps climbing metal briefly echoed through the bridge. Aaen looked left, behind the first officer at the top of the spiral staircase. Aaen's order to security had been carried out. Who-the-heck? Aaen thought, shocked at the sight of the second to walk up the staircase. 

"The alien occupant, sir." said the Chief of Security, gesturing the alien to stand in the middle of the bridge. The Deputy of Security stepped up onto the security platform and faced the center of the bridge–standing at ease, sidearm at the ready. The Chief of Security–also at ease–stood behind and to the left of the first officer.

"He can't be more than eleven or twelve years old!" the first officer quietly said to Aaen.

"In human years, sir, maybe." 

Aaen made direct eye contact with the alien, then spoke slightly louder than normal. "Can you understand us?"

The alien nodded, hesitantly. 

Thank goodness for the universal translator. Aaen thought. What in the world happened to that craft? Aaen looked at Short-Range. "Contact sickbay. Medical team to the bridge. On the double." 

"Aye, sir." 

Aaen looked back at the alien. Humanoid, very similar in appearance to humans. Clothing very torn and ragged. Either he was too close to something that overloaded on board that shuttlecraft during the apparent conflict, or. . . What about that mark on the left side of the alien's face?. . . Combat injury?. . . No. . . . That can't be a coincidence.

"Medical team is on the way, sir!" 

"Very well!" Aaen replied directly. 

The alien pointed at itself. "Puh-nayh. My name is Roul." 

"Is that your race? 'Panae'?" The first officer asked. 

"Yes." 

"What happened to your shuttle?" Aaen asked. 

"Captain! Sensors are detecting neutrino particle fluctuations in the wormhole!" 

Aaen snapped around, looked at the sensors screen. "Holy cow—Captain, something gigantic is coming through the wormhole." 

"How big?" the first officer asked. Aaen looked up at the main view screen. 

"Start high-intensity active scans of that object. Now." Aaen said. 

"Yes, sir." 

The bridge watched the light from the wormhole darken as a large mass soared from the event horizon. 

"The object appears to be some kind of ship. The design is similar to the Roteran warship." said the sensors cadet. "The ship is changing course–on an intercept course for us." 

"Is it Roteran?"

"Negative!"

"Maintain yellow alert." the first officer said, returning to the center seat. 

The bridge lights started to flicker at a variable pace. Aaen looked up and around. 

"Engineer. Report." 

"Something's draining our power, sir." 

"Source?" asked the first officer. 

"Unknown. Attempting to determine. Standby." 

"Captain, the second alien ship coming to a full stop approximately two thousand meters directly ahead." Said sensors cadet. The second alien ship's glaring silhouette filled the main view screen. Aaen noticed Roul started to tremble. He collapsed to the floor and started to crab-walk backward toward the first officer's computer station. He bumped the edge of the command platform with his shoulder, hugging the handrail as though for dear life–wide-eyed, looking at the main view screen, breathing heavily. Aaen followed him. 

"You're alright, Roul. What's wrong? It's just a ship." Aaen said reassuringly, crouching next to Roul. Roul's attention remained fixed on the main view screen. Roul hadn't blinked in almost a minute. Aaen looked at the main view screen, briefly. Something's not right.

"Captain, main power is being drained directly from and through our translight nacelles. At present rate of power drain, we'll be on auxiliary power in twenty minutes. Emergency power ten minutes after that."

"Tex, how can we stop the power drain?" asked the first officer.

"Sir, we could try raising the shields, but there's no way of knowing how the aliens on that other ship would respond. We don't know enough about them to risk a possible armed conflict. Might want to play it safe and talk to them first."

"I agree," Aaen said, looking up at the first officer. "Maybe they can shed some light on that shuttlecraft out there."

The first officer nodded. "Short-range. Hail the alien ship. General Use military frequency."

"Aye!"

The bridge lights started to dim more sharply, and more frequently. The main power grid's groaning hum filled the ship for three seconds. Roul wasn't phased. The alien blinked partially, and then covered his face with his left arm. Aaen looked up at the first officer with a concerned look. 

Three electronic chirps echoed in rapid succession through the bridge.

"They're responding, sir. Visual communication not possible due to apparent video transmission incompatibility. The line is audio-only."

Here we go. Aaen thought. 

A heavy, rumbling breath filled the bridge. Another, followed by a lengthy barrage of what sounded like gibberish.

Aaen found himself clenching his jaws over the seeming speech coming through the speakers. "It's speaking a language our computer can't translate. We should activate the universal translator and have it analyze that language." Aaen said.

The first officer nodded. "Computer. Activate universal translator. Analyze alien speech, and then begin translation."

"Affirmative. Now analyzing grammatical matrix. Standby. " The tactical screen displayed an angle-rich technical diagram of the computer's analysis. Five seconds later. "Grammatical analysis, complete. Now translating alien speech."

"—dentify yourself."

The first officer reasoned the alien was trying to establish the identity of the commanding officer on the Voyager.

"This is the acting Captain of the United Federation Starship, USSC Voyager. To whom am I speaking?"

"My name is not important. You are the acting Captain on your ship?"

"Correct. This is my Ambassador. She speaks for our ship."

"Very well. Ambassador of the United. Federation. Starship. .USSC Voyager." Another deep breath. "Where is this place?"

"You are currently in the Alpha Quadrant. Specifically: Federation space."

"My sensor readings indicate this is a very different region of space than where my crew and I come from, acting Captain. I am sorry for my intrusion into your Federation space. I do not seek to fight you. I am here searching for something. Something very valuable to me."

"What would that be? Perhaps we could help you find what you're looking for." the Ambassador replied. 

Roul started wiping his face with his sleeves.

"Ahh, there it is."

"There is what?"

"My sensors just detected my shuttlecraft. This is good news, indeed. It doesn't look like they made it too far." The alien whispered loudly. 

"They?"

"The family that escaped my ship. Wait a minute. . ."

The first officer looked at Aaen, who looked back at him wide-eyed. The Ambassador looked left at the first officer, briefly. 

"Problem?" asked the Ambassador. The command crew redirected their attention to the conversation. 

"There's nothing on board!"

"We detected one life form on board when we arrived to meet one of our ships here. The other ship that was originally here is the one that discovered the shuttlecraft. Apparently, there were originally five or six life forms on the shuttlecraft. The shuttle's life support systems were failing. There was only one survivor. The survivor had to be evacuated."

"Do you know where the life form that survived went? The shuttlecraft was not equipped with life pods, acting Captain. Is the life form on board the other ship that was here? WHERE did that ship go?"

"To my knowledge, the sole survivor was transported off the shuttlecraft." the Ambassador replied.

"Was the survivor transported to YOUR ship, or to the OTHER ship that was here?"

"Before I answer your question, please identify your interest in the shuttlecraft survivor."

"WHY? Why can't you just answer my question?"

Aaen looked to his right, hearing footsteps. The medical team rushed up the spiral staircase. Their patient was obvious. Aaen stood up and then took his seat on the command platform. The medical team set their medical kits down and started their work. Tricorders out, medical scans. . .

"When we arrived, we found the shuttlecraft to be heavily damaged. Adrift. The damage to the shuttle was considerable, and obviously not the result of an encounter with any natural phenomenon, nor an accident. I'll be happy to answer your question if you answer mine."

Another deep, heavy breath. "Acting Captain. That shuttlecraft was stolen from me a short time ago by. . .members of my crew. I was forced to fire on the shuttle to prevent those on board from getting too far away."

"You fired on members of your own crew?" the first officer asked. Aaen could hear the alien struck a nerve.

What kind of Captain fires on their own crew? Aaen thought grudgingly. 

"—Yes. They had no right to take that shuttle, nor any right to leave my ship without permission."

"What reason would they have to flee your ship and desert?"

"That's none–of–your–concern. Now, I have answered your question. You. Answer. Mine. . .Now."

Roul started to pull himself up. The first officer looked at Roul. Please! Don't tell him I'm here! Roul mouthed to the first officer. "Please! I request asylum!"

The first officer took a deep breath, and then looked back at the main view screen. 

"We know where the survivor is. But I can't consider turning him over to you unless you tell me what reason Roul has to flee your ship!"

The alien gasped loudly. "You know his name? He's on your ship, isn't he?"

"Maybe."

"Return him to my ship, immediately!"

"Not unless you tell me why you want him back so badly."

"Fine, acting Captain. In the interest of good relations between our peoples. The boy is a slave on my ship." Aaen glared at the main view screen. The air in the bridge felt electrified. "He has a small spiral-shaped black mark on his face. That is the mark of a Panae. I am a Panou! We force the Panae to do almost endless slave labor for us on our ships. The boy is the most valuable of the slaves that escaped my ship. He can read, write, and speak."

"I see."

"NOW. Return him to my ship, immediately."

The first officer looked at Aaen. Aaen understood the silent order, walked to the tactical station. "Tactical analysis of that ship."

"Yes, sir. High-intensity scan in progress." Ten seconds later. "That ship's three times bigger than Voyager. Sensors are struggling to collect data on their armament. Their hull plating is much denser than the alien shuttle's. Their weapon systems are—"

"I'm WAITING, Ambassador!"

"Standby!"

The Panou gasped. "Why is this so difficult? You have matter-energy conversion technology, yes?"

"We do." the Ambassador replied bluntly.

"Then tell your acting Captain to order whoever on your crew to USE IT!"

"Are what?" Aaen asked.

"Almost undetectable. From what I can tell: they appear to out-gun us three to one. Whatever their power source, their weapon energy output—"

"Ambassador! My patience is wearing thin! This wormhole isn't stable. If it closes, I could be trapped here forever! I am running out of time. I have to get back to my—"

"We're working on it! Standby!"

"I CAN'T 'Stand by'!" 

Roul collapsed and started tearing heavily. Shaking.

"He's in shock!" said the Chief Medical Officer. The medical team started treating Roul.

"Perhaps he wouldn't be if you just returned him to my ship! We'll take good care of him." the alien Captain growled. 

"Aaen!" the first officer whispered loudly.

"Is how high?" Aaen asked.

"Five times more than our cannons. I can't guarantee our shields will hold at all."

"Acting Captain! I would prefer not to use force, but that depends entirely on you. Return the boy to my ship, NOW! Final warning."

Aaen rushed to the command platform, sitting in the first officer's chair. "You don't really intend to beam the alien boy to that ship, do you?"

The first officer briefly looked at Aaen with a look Aaen knew he wouldn't soon forget. The command crew looked at the main view screen. 

"Panou Captain. I'm afraid I cannot return to the Panae boy to you." 

"Why not?" the Panou Captain asked sharply. 

The first officer looked at the Ambassador and nodded.

"You see, the United Federation of Planets neither practices nor tolerates slavery. By our laws, it is explicitly illegal to own, use, or traffic slaves. We would be violating our laws by returning the Panae boy to you." 

"I don't CARE about your 'laws,' Ambassador. I only care about retrieving my slave, and then going back to my space."

"You are free to return to your region of space. But the Panae boy has requested asylum. That request has been granted by my commanding officer. The Panae boy is—"

"Now under our protection." the first officer interrupted. Aaen noticed the first officer had not blinked in almost a minute. 

Roul gasped, relaxed, leaning against the command platform. 

The bridge felt as though a wave of fire had spread throughout. Aaen felt as though the temperature in the room had jumped ten degrees. He looked at the first officer, briefly. 

The comm-line was silent. 

"Panou Captain?" 

"Acting Captain, why hold the boy's life so dear? It's property! Would you protect a chair, or a table, like you are protecting it?"

"He is a living person. He has rights under our laws." 

"HA!" the Panou Captain yelled, mockingly. 

"As we have granted the Panae boy asylum, those laws now apply to and protect Roul." the Ambassador said. 

The sensors station flashed thrice. The sensors cadet quickly started reading the new information on the screen. Aaen looked at the sensors screen through the right corner of his eyes, briefly, and then at the main view screen. 

"So. Be. It., acting Captain." 

Three low-register beeps filled the bridge. 

"Comm line closed, Captain!" 

"Very well." 

"Captain, they're locking weapons on us!" said sensors cadet. 

Roul displayed a look of terror. 

"Red alert!" The bridge lights turned red. An alarm sounded, and then a second. "All hands to battle stations! Raise shields! Charge cannons, arm torpedoes—all launchers!"

"Aye, sir!"

The sensors screen flashed again. 

"Report!" Aaen demanded. 

"Captain, they're charging what appears to be some kind of high-yield plasma-based weapon! The weapons power output is spiking well into the terahertz range!" 

"Holy cow!" Aaen said. "Tactical, how long can our shields hold against a weapon like that?" 

"Two indirect hits, if we're lucky, sir! That thing could easily obliterate the hull!" 

She's a predator. Aaen thought. "How long until they can fire?"

"Fifteen seconds!" 

"Navigation, set a course away from here! Tactical, lock all weapons on target!" 

Both cadets acknowledged their orders in turn. 

"Ten seconds!" Said sensors cadet. 

"Cannons are charged and ready. All torpedo bays are armed and standing by. All queue's fully loaded. All weapons locked on target, Captain." 

"New course calculated and laid in, sir!" 

The silhouette gradually started passing into the left side of the main view screen.

"Helm, translight factor six as soon as you have a clear flight path! Execute!" said the first officer. 

"Aye!" 

"They're firing!" 

The main view screen lit up bright white. The upper-left hand corner gradually dimmed as a white ball of fire sent a white and purple shockwave in every horizontal direction. The shock wave became larger and denser with each passing second. 

"The shock wave's intensity is increasing exponentially! It's power output nearly off the scale!" said sensors cadet. 

The shock wave filled the main view screen—seemingly on a raging stamped. 

Wide-eyed, the first officer renewed his grip on the captain chair's armrests. "Evasive ac—!"

The ship rocked violently. The deck plating vibrated relentlessly. Aaen felt thrown forward out of his seat. He grabbed the handrail and tried to pull himself forward onto the command platform while maintaining his footing. The rest of the bridge crew tossed onto the floor. Aaen managed to pull himself back to his seat. He held onto the first officer station for any hope of physical stability, observing bridge computer screens flashing and sparking vigorously. The sound of groaning metal compressing under pressure echoed through the bridge. The rest of the bridge crew struggled against the artificial gravity to retake their stations. The first officer was thrown into the center of the bridge, turning and tumbling towards the communication stations. Aaen looked at the helm screen. The yaw, pitch and roll gauges were moving quickly, clockwise and counterclockwise. We're like a rag doll! Aaen reasoned. The artificial gravity screamed the ship had just been bluntly forced on some new heading. The bridge lights flickered as though the ship was gasping for air. 

"DIRECT HIT to all shield grids!" yelled Tactical. 

"Hull stress is increasing! All sections!" said the Bridge Engineer.

"Damage reports coming in from all over the ship!" said the left Damage Control Cadet. 

"Casualty reports coming in!" said Short-Range Cadet. 

The first officer struggled to crawl back to the command platform over the continual deck plate vibrations. Aaen extended his right arm, helped pull him up. The first officer threw his weight into the center seat as he pushed against the armrests, faced the main view screen. 

"All weapons! Return fire!" 

"Attempting to stabilize the ship's heading!" said Helm. 

The tactical cadet pulled himself back into his chair. 

The medical team regained their footing. After a brief tricorder scan, the CMO looked at the first officer. "The alien is stable. I'll be in Sickbay!"

The first officer nodded. The medical team leaned against the walls and grabbed the handrail as they rushed down the spiral staircase. 

The artificial gravity felt like it was stabilizing. 

"Captain, our heading is stable!" 

"All shield grids are down to forty percent!"

The sensors cadet struggled to catch his breath as he tried reading the new information on his station screen. 

"Captain, they're recharging their primary weapon!. . . I'm detecting multiple other power build-ups all over their ship–could be more weapons!" 

"Engaging translight drive!" 

"Their primary weapon is almost fully charged!" 

 The glistening tunnel effect, and then the stars became elongated white streaks in three seconds. 

"Captain, the translight drive took some damage from that last weapon impact! We can't go faster than translight factor six, and we can't sustain factor six for more than a few minutes at a time. I can't guarantee the translight drive will even be online for much longer!" Tex said. 

"Can you give me a number?" The first officer asked. 

"Probably less than twenty minutes, at best!" 

"Acknowledged!" 

"Panou ship is in pursuit! They're accelerating to translight seven, and gaining!" said sensors cadet. 

"How close are we to the nearest starbase from our current position?" Aaen asked. 

"An hour and a half at translight seven, sir!" 

"The nearest ship?" 

"Spacefleet Command's most recent fleet position update says the USSC Montgomery is in the Mutara Nebula. The nebula is to starboard, about five light years away."

"Fifteen minutes away at this speed, assuming we could sustain it." said the first officer. 

"How long until we are in weapon range of the Panou ship?" 

"Approximately thirty seconds, sir!"

"Captain, the navigational array was damaged during the last attack. We'll have to come to a full stop if I'm to change the ship's course." 

"They'll overtake us in five seconds if we stop the ship!" said sensors cadet.

"Can we hail the Montgomery?" asked the first officer. 

Short-range turned her head. "Negative! We're too far away!" 

"Can we send them a message?" 

"Negative! The long-range comm system's damaged. We can't send long-range messages, sir." 

Run? Fight? Or hide. Aaen thought.

*****

Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

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Intolerance - Part Two

Woah! The bridge crew silently agreed, awed at the gleaming white and blue orifice directly ahead. The Ranger appeared to be facing the orifice at an angle relative to the Voyager. The Ranger's small running lights along her dorsal and port side flashed sharply and intermittently at regular intervals. Aaen's original bridge station assignment revealed nothing about the wormhole as yet. He already had a recommendation for the next course of action, beyond the obvious of contacting the Ranger for a situation update. The bridge was already abuzz with crew members rushing printed mission materials to here and there. The air was getting a little stale. It's ok, Aaen kept to himself, the CO2 scrubbers are being repaired. So far no reports of anyone getting light headed. Damage Control was methodically hard at work trying to repair the mechanisms, thus keeping such reports from reaching the bridge. Good, Aaen thought, admiring the crews' persistence and perseverance under the circumstances. Aaen looked to his right at the first officer, who already looked like he had made a decision. Time to start calling him 'Captain,' Aaen remembered protocol. 

"Captain, I suggest we launch a probe into the wormhole and begin conducting scans of its composition. If this wormhole is as stable as the one near Deep Space Nine, we should document it, and then report back to Spacefleet Command, along with any other readings we get that might indicate a warp-capable civilization." Aaen said. 

"Not that important right now. Short-range: open a channel to the Ranger." 'Not that important right now?' Are you serious? Aaen thought. A shortcut to who-knows-where and that's 'not that important'? That's not worth investigating? How do we know if there are unknown extraterrestrials on the other side? If there are, how do we know if they are a threat to us—or the Alpha Quadrant in general? That possibility isn't worth investigating? Maybe you missed that lesson during the academy. Aaen kept to himself. 

The order was carried out quickly and decisively. 

Two series of digital rings in rapid succession, and then another series of beeps. The tactical screen displayed two Federation symbols connected by a seeming waving double-helix—"Line Connected" displayed below the double helix'. 

"This is the captain of the USSC Ranger. Who am I speaking with?" the question came sharply. 

"This is the first officer of the USSC Voyager. We're here to—" 

"So you're the one that nearly crashed into my ship! My goodness, Captain! I've got darn near every alarm goin' off on my bridge! Half my crew is holding onto their stations for dear life! Stand down from red alert.  . . . Captain, are you aware of the distance between our ships?" 

"Quite close." 

"Yeah! Another half-second and you'da stopped just in time to scrape some paint off my hull!"

"Look, I'm sorry we didn't stop sooner. We are here in response to your request for a replacement ship to take over your part of whatever's going on here. Can you give us more information?"

The Ranger captain gasped. "I'll tell you, Captain. This is by far the most perplexing situation I've ever encountered in my career as a starship captain. Our sensor scans of the wormhole have resulted in inconclusive results. Many of our sensor readings of the wormhole don't make any sense. Our sensor array almost burned out after our second attempt to analyze it. We tried multiple times to scan the object drifting out of the wormhole–it's like the object's there, but it's not there. That object's hull deflects our scans like a wall deflects a tennis ball. We're detecting the object on our primary sensor array, but our attempts to get a deeper reading have failed since we initially detected the object."

"Understood." the first officer looked at Aaen with a confused look. Aaen remained calm; his attention focused on the main viewscreen.

"Maybe you'll have better luck, Captain since your ship's sensors are much more powerful than ours."

"Probably. What have you learned about the occupant of the object?" 

"That's what gets us the most, Captain. We were able to establish communication with who, or whatever's on board–but, as you may have already been told: the conversation didn't last long. Frankly, Captain, the fact that object couldn't maintain a solid comm-line doesn't surprise me—it looks like a piece of Swiss Cheese!" Aaen observed the bridge crew grinning at the comment, but remained focused on doing their jobs. 

"We know the occupant's name, but nothing else at this point." the first officer said. 

"Captain, my communications officer thinks the occupant is using some kind of voice distorter. We haven't been able to determine the exact age of the occupant, or if it's male or female. All it kept sayin' was that it was in trouble, so we asked how we could help. It told us that there are five or six others like it on board, much older than it is, but they're all asleep, and they won't wake up. From lookin' at the object, Captain, I'd say that craft got in a fight with something big–something that didn't want that object to get to wherever it's goin'." 

"That's a sensible theory." the first officer replied. 

"Wherever that object came from, Captain . . . " 

"Agreed." The first officer looked at Aaen. "What do you think?" 

"I think it's time for us to take over this investigation." Aaen lowered his eyebrows slightly. "Something doesn't feel right." 

The first officer nodded. 

"Do you have any additional information, Captain?" 

"No, Captain. My ship's runnin' dangerously low on fuel at this point. We're going to head to the nearest starbase to refuel." 

"Understood." 

"Good luck, Captain." 

"And to you." 

"The situation is now under your jurisdiction, Captain. Ranger. Out." 

Three beeps in rapid succession indicated the line closed on both ships. The tactical screen showed two Federation icons in the upper-left-hand corner of the screen. One was stationary; the other moved toward the lower-right-hand corner of the screen at a quick, steady pace.

"USSC Ranger is leaving the area, Captain." said the sensors cadet. 

"Understood." 

The main viewscreen showed the Ranger's twin impulse engines glowing brightly as the ship started seemingly drifting to starboard, it's heading shifted, and then the ship accelerated out of the area at a low angle. The deck plating vibrated firmly under the wake of the engines' thrust. The main viewscreen image changed to show a jagged mass drifting towards the Voyager while seemingly somersaulting. The tactical screen showed passive scans of the object in progress. 

Aaen's gut was in a knot. "Scanners: What are the dimensions of the object?" 

"Standby.  . . . Captain, the object's dimensions read as ten meters long, five meters tall, and eight meters wide." 

"It's some kind of shuttlecraft," Aaen concluded, speaking softly.

"That's the weirdest shuttlecraft design I've ever seen." said the first officer. 

"Now might be a good time to launch a class-three probe into the wormhole, sir," Aaen said.

The first officer wasted no time following Aaen's suggestion. The order was given immediately. 

"What equipment payload, sir?" asked a cadet first to the last on the end of the left-wing. 

"Sensor package, a radio transponder, and an extra fuel cell." Aaen quickly replied. "Launch probe when ready." 

"Aye! Probe away!" 

A black oval-shaped dart with a flaming tail soared into the center of the wormhole, quickly out of sight. 

The bridge was almost silent for several seconds of observation of the main viewscreen. 

"Sir! Our sensors have penetrated the object's outer hull! Detecting one life form on board. The occupant's life signs are faint! The alien shuttlecraft is venting atmosphere! Life support on the alien shuttlecraft is failing!" 

"Red alert!" the first officer yelled. 

"Life support on the alien shuttlecraft will fail in fifteen seconds, sir!" 

A diagram of the humanoid shape next to an oxygen meter appeared on the tactical screen.  

"Teleporters! Get a lock on the life form and beam it to decontamination, immediately!" 

"Aye!" Said a cadet sitting first from the end on right-wing. 

"Warning: alien life signs fading. Life support on the alien ship will fail in ten seconds." Said the computer. 

"Could the computer be any more obvious," Aaen said quietly.

"Transporters!" Said the first officer. 

"Captain! We have no idea what kind of germs or viruses that alien might be carrying. The alien is completely unknown to us! Our biofilters might not protect us. For all we know, we get exposed to whatever the alien might be carrying. We might grow a third arm or something!—" 

"Thank you, Tex!"

"Transporter sensors are–"

"Six. . .five. . .four!" The computer announced the countdown. 

"I've got a transporter lock!" 

"Energize!" Aaen said. I really hope Tex is wrong about that 'third arm' stuff, he thought, watching with a determined look as the cadet inched the trio yellow lines to the top of the transporter control screen. C'mon! . . . C'mon! Aaen thought. 

"Two. . .One. . ." 

"Transporters activated!" The bridge filled with the glistening sound of the mechanism at work for five seconds. 

"Warning: Biohazard alert. Unknown life form in decontamination. Detecting unknown airborne bacteria." 

"That's just a risk we'll have to take." said the first officer. "Stand down from red alert. Alert condition three." A series of subtle chirps told the bridge, and the rest of the ship, that all was now well. 

Aaen was becoming increasingly curious as to what happened to the alien shuttle. He looked at the image on the main viewscreen. The damage to the alien shuttle couldn't have been as coincidental as a collision with a space rock. The visible damage is too specific. Too deliberate. Space rocks don't leave burn marks and perfectly shaped holes an adult male could crawl through with ease. So, who, or what would have attacked a shuttlecraft–and why? What about that shuttle was so darn important? Was the shuttle attacked as a means of trying to recover some kind of technology? Who, or what would take such risks damaging what they're trying to recover? Or was there something—or someone—that wasn't supposed to. . . Wait a minute. . .

Aaen looked to his left. "Security, go find the alien. Take the alien out of decontamination and then bring the alien to the bridge." The duo retrieved their sidearms, stepped down from their stations, and then hastily carried out the order. "Sensors, increase scan intensity on the alien shuttlecraft. What inner workings can you discern?" 

"Increasing scan intensity to level five." Good, Aaen thought. Scan intensity level ten would have caused scan results to include everything from the scan target's molecular composition, to how many hairs were up one of the given occupants' nose. "Scanning, sir." Ten seconds later. "Sensor readings are mostly indeterminate. I'm only detecting negligible power readings." 

"Tactical analysis." 

Five seconds later. "Tactical sensors can't make heads or tails of the alien shuttle's armaments if it ever had any. I'm only detecting two low-output shield generators on the shuttle's fore, and starboard sides. Both offline. Shuttle's power source and power type are unknown. The alien shuttle's hull plating composition is unknown, but it's three times denser than Voyager's hull plating." 

"Who or whatever caused all that damage was really powerful but careful not to destroy that shuttle." the first officer said.

The sensors cadet's screen flashed. "Captain, lots of new sensor information coming in from the probe." 

"Record all data in the main computer memory core. Long-range, standby to send a copy of the data to Spacefleet Command." Aaen said. 

Both cadets replied in the affirmative in turn.

"Captain! I—"

The first officer looked at the Sensor Cadet. "What?" 

Aaen looked at the sensor cadet with a puzzled look. He walked to the sensors station and looked at the cadet's screen. 

"Aaen?" the first officer asked. 

"We just lost contact with the probe, sir. We're not getting any telemetry, whatsoever. No readings indicating a malfunction, or that the probe as reverted to safe mode. There's no data coming back to us." 

"What about the radio transponder?" 

Aaen turned his head. "Negative on the transponder, sir. All current instrumentation readings show negative on the probe. The probe doesn't exist anymore." 

"Could it have collided with an asteroid or a meteor?" Adam asked. 

"Good question," Aaen replied, looking at the sensors cadet. "Pull up the last sensor readings the probe sent back before we lost contact with it."

The order was carried out quickly. Aaen scanned the probe information, and then looked at the first officer over his left shoulder. 

"What happened to the probe?" The first officer stood up, looking concerned at Aaen. "What happened to the probe?" 

"Yellow alert!" Aaen said. 

*****

Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

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Intolerance - Part One

The first officer looked at the scanner cadet. "How long till we reach Earth space dock?"

Aaen watched the scanner cadet enter the query into his computer, and then initiate the scan. The response came five seconds later.

"At present speed: five minutes." Helm, steady as she goes, Aaen grinned, leaning into his chair.

The sensor station flashed multiple times. The first officer turned to face right wing. 

"Report, Aaen."

"Sir, we are approaching Starbase One. Recommend full stop."

The first officer turned to the captain. The captain nodded back. "Helm, full stop." 

The order was executed as though with slight-of-hand. The rumble of the warp drive gradually calmed. The white streaks streaming across the main viewscreen became still dots in seconds as a gleaming tower of blue and white filled the upper-left-hand corner of the screen; beneath the gleaming tower, the upper-western hemisphere of Earth. The entire hemisphere was blanketed in the night. The bridge briefly gasped in awe at the sight.

Aaen faced forward. 

"Captain, ship-wide oxygen levels are dropping rapidly. CO2 Scrubbers will go offline in two minutes! We either need to dock with Starbase One, or we need to start. . ." she coughed, "transporting those people to Starbase One, as soon as possible."

"Understood." said the first officer. "Short range, open a hailing frequency to Starbase One." 

"Yes, sir. Hailing frequency opened." 

A trio of mid-upper range beeps echoed briefly through the bridge in rapid succession. The same sound repeated two seconds later. 

"Starbase One is responding, sir." 

"This is Starbase One docking control. Identify, over." 

"This is the captain of the Voyager. We finished our mission. We lost the Yorktown. The crew. . ." the captain looked at the first officer. 

"Captain?" asked docking control. 

"Can you please just talk to them?" the captain asked. 

The first officer looked at the captain, surprised–and then nodded. "Docking control, this is the first officer. The majority of the convoy has arrived to drop off the people from the planet in solar system Golf-Tango-One-Seven-Four-Zero. The convoy is minus-one. The Yorktown. The Yorktown was struck by an asteroid." the air was starting to get thin, and getting thinner by the second. The bridge was filled with the sound of subtle gasps. "The Yorktown crew made their way off the ship in escape pods before the Yorktown's warp core breached. We have some of the planet's people on our ship and on the rest of the surviving convoy. We need to dock right now for repairs and to offload the people we rescued, or we're gonna suffocate. Hours are minutes. The Yorktown crew is going to need a rescue mission, as soon as possible." 

"Understood, Voyager. You are clear to dock in Bay Bravo. Odyssey and convoy are clear for bays Charlie through Hotel. Opening bay doors, now. Good work, and welcome home." 

"Voyager confirms. Short range, close channel. Relay those instructions to the Odyssey and the rest of the convoy. Helm, you're on manual. Begin docking procedures." 

Both cadets acknowledged their orders in turn. Three lower-register beeps confirmed the comm-line closer. 

"Maneuvering thrusters are back online, sir!" said damage control. 

Aaen glanced to his right at the helm station. The cadet flying the ship anxiously rubbed his hands together before carrying out his orders. Starbase One gradually became larger on the main viewscreen. The twin doors lined with intermittently blinking navigational lights started to part. Despite the changes in the atmosphere, Aaen noticed the bridge crew was starting to relax–particularly a certain member of the command crew. 

"Steady. . .steady." Aaen mumbled. Starbase One's shadow cast over the hull. Aaen watched as spotlights activated throughout the docking bay, directed at the hull. The main viewscreen darkened as the docking bay entrance engulfed the hulk. 

The V-shaped docking bay was headed by a vertical cylindrical orifice uniting the Voyager's bay with the adjacent bays to starboard and port. Aaen looked at the scanner screen. The delta-shaped dot representing the Odyssey started moving from the four o'clock position to the two o'clock position on a forty-five degree parallel trajectory to the Voyager's and moving at almost twice as fast as the rest of the convoy. The convoy moved away at a greater angle. 

Aaen recognized the Odyssey just visible to starboard on the main viewscreen. He grinned. Someday. . . Aaen thought about the center seat on her first of two decks. He watched as the moderately damaged Odyssey practically glided into position for the jet bridge to extend. You better not so much as scratch what's left of that hull, pilot! Aaen thought. Whew! Aaen silently gasped. Five seconds later, the jet bridge extended to the Odyssey's docking hatch and then vented a dense white mist into the docking bay. Much of her secondary hull was visible, as were some black spots and heavy dents. They must have had to proverbially shoulder some of the smaller asteroids away from the convoy while we pulverized the larger ones. Jeez, Aaen thought. 

"Captain, docking control reports the Odyssey has docked. They are off-boarding." said short range. 

"Very well." 

"The transport ships have docked. All hands accounted for." 

"Understood."

"In docking position in ten seconds, captain," Aaen said. The docking arm started to extend from the port side of the docking bay loading area. 

"Okay." 

"Reverse thrusters," Helm said. The deck plating subtly vibrated for five seconds. The docking bay gradually became still. "All stop." 

"Helm, engines at station keeping. Engage docking clamps, mooring rings, and umbilical support systems."

"Good to be home, sir!" Tex said. 

"Agreed!" 

"Jet bridge extending," Helm said. A repetitive hiss-like alarm echoed through the bridge, gradually becoming louder until terminating. The hull briefly, mildly rattled. "Jet bridge successfully moored. Docking clamps engaging." THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. The sound of metal gently clashing against the hull filled the bridge. "Mooring rings attached."

"Crew, we're home!" the first officer said. The bridge filled with cheers and clapping. "All rise! Duty uniforms on your chairs. Dismissed."

The captain stood up, stepped down from the command platform and started for the spiral staircase. The first officer was right behind him with a look of concern. The rest of the bridge crew followed. Aaen took a quick look of admiration around the bridge before following the rest of the bridge crew. Way to go, Voyager. Thanks for getting us back alive.

The crew lined up at the transporter where they had originally boarded the ship. Commodore Houston greeted the crew. She looked at the captain with dropped Ayebrows. "Welcome back, crew. That wasn't an easy mission, was it?"

"No. Not at all." Aaen replied.

"First Officer, how did everyone do?"

"It was rough, to say the least. But everyone did their jobs well, and we made it through and back. Aaen really came through for us when things went from bad to worse. We probably wouldn't be alive right now if it weren't for him."

Commodore Houston looked at Aaen. "You were the sensors officer, weren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Commodore Houston displayed a look of surprise, and then looked at the first officer. "You have a long report to file with the Admiral, I bet."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, the people you rescued are being offloaded as we speak. They'll be given fresh clothes and food, and then they'll be relocated to a new home planet of their leaders' choosing, within Federation space. You all did a great job! You should be proud of yourselves for the good you did today. captain and first officer, Fleet Admiral Williamson wants to speak with both of you as soon as you both get back to Starbase." they acknowledged their orders in turn. "The rest of the crew is off-duty until further notice! Except, you, Aaen. Fleet Admiral Williamson will have new orders for you by the end of the day."

Aaen nodded.

The crew transported back to Starbase One in ten minutes. A short male with junior enlisted rank insignia gestured to his left. "Right this way, cadet."

Aaen nodded. The loading corridor was familiar. Aaen proceeded the mess hall. The mess hall was full of uniformed cadets and officers enjoying their choice of the daily lunch special. Aaen stood inside the mess hall entrance, examining the menu. Chicken Sandwich, Salad, or—no way! Serpent worms. . . He started feeling light headed. His stomach started grumbling. 

He proceeded to collect a tray and then approached the food dispensary at the front of the room, inserting the tray into a rectangular port. "Chicken Sandwich." the port closed and then opened five seconds later. The tray contained a piece of food wrapped in a shiny, dark tan material, an orange eight-ounce beverage, and a modest desert and a disposable knife and fork.  Aaen turned around, scanning the room for an empty seat. An entire table twenty feet away, in the center of the mess hall. Aaen took one of ten seats at the table. Odyssey, he thought, unwrapping the sandwich. Mmm. . . He grinned. A ten ounce grilled chicken sandwich complete with a light spreading of mayonnaise, shredded lettuce, and two slices of tomato on twin nine-grain buns. An eight-ounce dark chocolate brownie square was an excellent desert idea. He started eating as fast as he could. He ate the sandwich first. The chicken was so lean and tender. He downed the orange juice quickly. The brownie must have been fresh out of the oven and was full of chunks of dark chocolate.  An odd flavor combination, but one Aaen opined he could deal with. Aaen silently relished the meal, and then looked at the clock. It was thirty minutes past the hour. Aaen started wondering what his next orders were going to be. He started thinking about recent events, recalling each cannon striking those asteroids one at a time in rapid succession, but that was nothing compared to the almost continual spreads of high-yield torpedo action. It was like the fourth of July, in space! He grinned. His grin got bigger with the realization that the people on the planet will continue living and flourish somewhere in Federation space, and the Odyssey survived the mission. Maybe I'll get my command of the Odyssey, finally! Then again, maybe they're going to reassign me to another fleet? Maybe I'll get my command, and then the Odyssey gets assigned to another fleet? The first officer's report would probably get me closer to my command. Who knows? Aaen gasped. It's just a waiting game, now. I wonder where the Galileo went? What're they doing right now?. . . 

He checked the clock again. Fifteen minutes 'til the end of the hour. . . Aaen gasped. Lunch was settling comfortably enough. Aaen watched as a group of fifth-year cadets, males, and females, laughing as they walked to the exit with their trays. Aaen turned his attention back to his tray. Another brownie would be nice, he thought.

He stood up, took his tray to the exit, discarded the wrappings, and then walked out into the adjacent corridor. His favorite viewport was on deck sixteen. He took a turbo lift. Turning right, after a fifteen-foot walk, he leaned on his left shoulder against the viewport, looking at the Earth's northern hemisphere. "Wow." he muttered.

"Aaen!" A male voice called. Aaen looked to his right–the first officer was running down the far end of the corridor. "Sorry I missed you at lunch. I had to ask the computer to locate you." 

"What's up?" 

"Right now I and the majority of the rest of the crew are just waiting for our next orders. From what I've heard in passing, the people from that planet already have their new home world. The second fleet will be in charge of their escort and oversee their settlement of the planet by the end of the month."

Aaen nodded. "Good." 

"Aaen, that was a heckuva job you did on that last mission. Why did they assign you to the sensors job?" 

"I have no idea. I've been asking myself that question since before we all launched in the Voyager." 

"Did they tell you where you're headed next?" 

"Not yet. I'm hoping to command the ship I signed up for." 

"Which ship?" 

"The Odyssey." 

"Why do you want that ship? She's not as fast or as powerful as the Voyager, or basically over half the ships in the rest of the fleet." 

"True. But she makes up for it in other ways that I like. She's a ship that I've noticed has proven that in heated circumstances or situations, cannons and torpedoes aren't always the only option or the most effective one for that matter. In a heated situation, the Voyager just sits there, with limited rapid maneuvering capability. It's a floating punching bag. The Odyssey's capabilities, on the other hand, would give the Defiant-class a run for its money, outside of tactical functions." 

"Well, I put in a good word for you with Fleet Admiral Williamson. Maybe that'll help." 

"Thanks. I appreciate that. I'm just glad the mission was a success." 

"There you are!" another male voice said from down the far corridor. Aaen looked around the first officer's right shoulder–the cadet assigned as tactical was approaching. 

"That was a pretty intense mission, eh, guys?" 

"Yeah, like skipping a rock on a pond and hoping it doesn't hit a mine along the way." 

The trio grinned. 

"Have you heard how the repairs are coming on the Voyager?" Aaen asked the third cadet. 

"I checked before I came up: the Voyager'll be ready for launch within the hour. They've restocked the torpedo supply, and the cannons have been cycled." 

"You sound like you're hoping to be assigned to the Voyager again," Aaen said. 

The third cadet grinned. "She's a powerful ship. She made easy work of most of those asteroids in that last mission." 

"Yeah, that's true!" the second cadet said. The trio laughed. 

"So, Aaen, what ship are you going to next? Have they told you yet?" 

"I don't know. They haven't told me yet. Did anyone ever hear what happened to the captain?"

"He's in sickbay, right now." the second cadet replied. 

"Are they going to give him another command again?" Aaen asked. 

"I doubt it."

"They should have made you the captain, Aaen." said the third cadet. 

"Thanks. I'm not sure why they didn't make that call the first time around." 

"Maybe they'll assign you as the captain on the next mission?" asked the third cadet. 

"Are they keeping the crew together?" Aaen asked. 

"I heard Fleet Admiral Williamson talking to an instructor in a corridor outside the mess hall. From what I heard on my way up here, something else has happened, and they're sending the Voyager. Just the Voyager." 

"Did something happen to the new home world those people we rescued were going to settle on?"

"I didn't hear anything about their new home world. I heard something about a wormhole and another Federation ship called USSC Ranger. They sounded like whatever was going on was pretty serious." 

"Maybe—" Aaen said. 

"Did you guys hear anything about the Galileo? Anybody heard where they went, or what they're doing?"

"I haven't heard anything," Aaen said. 

"Me neither." 

"As soon as they launched from the Voyager, they warped away toward our starboard bow, ventral side. Wherever they're headed, it's nowhere the computer had on file." Aaen said. 

"Spacefleet Command probably did that on purpose." said the first officer. 

"What?" Adam said.

"Keep the Galileo's probable destination off the fleet's computer records," Aaen said. "We probably won't get filled in on any of its whereabouts or mission happenings unless we get assigned to that ship." 

"Yeah, like that'll ever happen." the other cadets giggled. "Nobody even knows how the crews are selected, much less notified of their assignment." said the first officer. 

"Well, never say never. You never know what might happen down the road." Aaen said. "Even then, you can bet the scrutiny is going to be impressive."

"Why? Has someone been talking to you about the Galileo? You getting ready to take up a permanent assignment?" the first officer asked.

"None that I've been told about," Aaen replied. 

"I don't believe you," Adam said.

"Seriously!" Aaen grinned. "I've never put myself down for a permanent assignment on the Galileo. Whoever makes the crew decisions for that ship probably comes to you. Besides, even if someone were to get assigned to that ship, there's no way to know how long that assignment would last for." 

"Aren't command positions usually permanent?" Adam asked. 

"They're permanent until the ship is destroyed, or Spacefleet Command issues different orders if there is a pressing need for a temporary reassignment." 

"What if–" 

"Alpha class, report to the main briefing room, on the double." a voice said over the intercom. 

"That's us," Aaen said. Aaen suddenly felt like the corridor had gotten really warm. The trio noticed multiple officers and cadets suddenly looking around them to see if they could find the subject of the page. Aaen donned a serious look as the trio started for the turbo lift. 

The briefing room was twenty decks down. Aaen tapped the turbo lift's control panel. The doors swished open five seconds later. The trio entered the turbo lift.

"Briefing room." Aaen said. The Main Computer beeped acknowledgement. The doors closed. The turbo lift quickly accelerated to the destination. The anti-gravity and inertia dampeners made the ride seem motionless. Ten seconds later, the turbo lift subtly hissed as it came to a gradual stop. The doors opened to a five-foot-wide aptly lit corridor with angled blue overhead lights and dark blue carpeting. Stepping off, the trio proceeded straight for ten feet, turning right, up a ramp, straight for fifty feet, right, straight for eight feet to stop at another long corridor. To the trio's immediate left, a large cavity in the wall leading to twin large heavy doors whose label read 'BRIEFING ROOM.'

The rest of the class was forming a line on the adjacent wall to the large twin doors. 

"Do you know what's goin' on?" the first officer asked.

Aaen turned his head. "No idea. They wouldn't be sending us out again this quickly unless it was important."

"Good point."

"Form a single-file line!" said Commodore Houston gestured from behind. The trio joined the back of the line. 

Commodore Houston entered a command into the doors' control panel, and then led the line inside the room. The sound of chairs being pulled out from under tables echoed in the corridor as the last of the line entered the room. Aaen felt an air pressure wave against his face as he crossed the threshold into the dimly-lit room. Two ceiling-mounted lights beamed against a white board behind a large blue and white desk bearing the seal of the Federation. To the right, a five-by-five-foot screen with an image of a large wormhole facing a Miranda-class starship projected on it from overhead. Three tables lined with seats were in the center of the room. Aaen took the first seat on his right at the corner of the nearest table. He glanced at the main viewscreen with a determined look. This should be good. Aaen thought. He glanced to his right. Mr. Shelco sat at the back of the room, a new stack of pamphlets in hand. Aaen shifted his attention back to Commodore Houston.

Aaen looked to his left: an overhead projection of the seal of Star Fleet Command at the front-right of the room. Below the seal, a label reading, "MISSION BRIEFING - *CLASSIFIED*" Aaen took a seat near the entrance, leaned on his elbows pressed against the table in front of him. He coupled his hands and directed his attention at Commodore Houston. 

"Class," she looked at the wall projection, " this is the USSC Ranger. It is a long-range exploration ship currently on the outer edge of Federation space. Approximately six hours ago, the Ranger detected the opening of a wormhole very similar to that near Deep Space Nine. It is possible that the wormhole they discovered may be just as stable as the one previously mentioned. However, we do not yet know where the wormhole leads to. What is more interesting, however, is the object that the Ranger reports as having drifted out of the wormhole. The Ranger has determined that the object is a ship of some kind. The ship's design and manufacturer, even its point of origin is unknown. The Ranger's most recent report says they were able to open a comm-line with the ship. There is only one occupant on board that we currently know of. The occupant has identified itself as Roul, pronounced like 'rule.' The other ship was not able to maintain power to it's comm-system, so we lost the signal. The Ranger is low on fuel, so they have asked for a replacement ship to rendezvous with it and took over the investigation. Class, your mission objective is to launch in the Voyager, rendezvous with the Ranger, get a situation update from them, and then take over the investigation." that's it? Aaen thought. Your instructor has your new pamphlets detailing your new bridge station assignments." 

"Any questions?" the room was silent. Mr. Shelco passed the class' bridge station assignments out with haste. The groups were divided identically to the last mission.

Aaen glanced at his pamphlet. The Voyager again! . . Science? Aaen's Ayebrows dropped. 

"Rise!" said Mr. Shelco. 

The class lined up at the doors and then proceeded with boarding. The boarding process was identical to the first mission. Aaen was the tenth of twelve to be transported aboard. He received a fresh uniform and then proceeded up the spiral staircase. Fleet Admiral Williamson directed him to the far left side of the bridge. One computer monitor, again, with the already obvious purpose of reading a screen. Ugh! Aaen took his seat. Aaen's station training took less than two minutes, Aaen estimated. He looked at the command platform–the command structure was the same as before! Well, at least all we're doing is investigating, this time. Or are we?Aaen's seating assignment was on the opposite side of the bridge to the sensors station, right behind and to the left of security. 

Training took less than ten minutes for the entire bridge. Aaen looked at the command platform: the command structure was the same as before. Well, at least it's just us, this time. 

"Engine room to the bridge! Engine room to the bridge! You've got Tex, can you hear me up there, captain?"

"Yes, I can hear you." the captain replied. 

"How'ya doin' today, sir?" 

"Fine, I guess." 

"You sound a little doubtful, sir. Is everything okay up there?" 

"I'm fine." 

"Well, alright then. captain, I don't know if you remember me. I was the chief engineer on the last mission when we went to rescue the people from that doomed planet?" 

"Yeah, I remember you." 

"Well, sir, it's a pleasure to be serving under your command a second time." 

"Thanks. .I. .guess." 

"Well, sir, we're all ready to launch down here, whenever you're ready." 

"Um. Okay." 

"Begin launch procedures!" said the first officer. "Switch to internal power. Retract boarding ramps. Disengage docking clamps and mooring rings." 

"Aye, sir!" said the helm. 

The sound of metal clashing and various brief alarms echoed through the ship. 

"Short range comms, request permission to launch from docking control." 

The order was carried out quickly. 

"Permission to launch granted, sir!" 

"Reading docking bay doors are opening!" Helm said. 

"Aft thrusters at one-quarter." said the captain. 

"After thrusters, Aye!" 

"Take us out." 

"View astern on the viewer, captain!" said the scanner cadet. 

The hiss of the thrusters echoed through the bridge–Aaen noticed they were not as loud this time–as the docking bay doors started to part. 

"Distance to docking bay doors: fifteen hundred meters. .one thousand meters. . ." the doors were one-quarter open. "Eight hundred meters. . .five hundred meters. . .two hundred meters. . ." 

"This is gonna be close!" Aaen whispered. 

"Clear!" Helm said. "View ahead on screen."

"Set course for the USSC Ranger. Standby warp drive!" said the first officer. 

"Calculating course. . . Course set and laid in." Starbase One passed into the right side of the main viewscreen. The only visible objects were distant white dots. 

"Warp. . .two." said the captain, giggling.

Aaen closed his Ayes and then briefly dropped his head. 

"Sir, the Ranger's almost outta fuel. We should probably go to maximum warp to get there as soon as we possibly can." Tex said. 

"Okay. Do it." 

"I can't, sir. That's the helm's job." 

"Helm! Do it!" 

"Speed increase: warp nine. All hands: brace for warp speed. Warp drive engines have been activated." 

Aaen watched as the rest of the bridge took the computer's suggestion, while he remained perfectly calm, relishing the same physical sensation of the warp drive engines powering up as he lightly glared at the main viewscreen with a small grin. 

A thin, bold mechanical whine gradually grew to a fine roar as an explosion of swirling light lit the main viewscreen. The stars streaked into the corners of the screen, followed by a thundering boom. The stars then appeared as fine white streaks of light passing by. Aaen watched the helm's Ayes follow the speed meter. The ship stopped accelerating in five seconds. 

The first officer looked at the scanner cadet. "How long until we reach the Ranger?" 

"Scanning—we are five minutes from destination, sir." 

The long range communication station flashed and beeped for three seconds. The cadet selected the newest message with a single command to the touch screen, then turned around in his seat to face the command platform. "Sir, incoming message from Fleet Admiral Williamson!"

He stood from his chair. "Bring me the message."

After a short series of commands into his computer, the document appeared in a small tray connected to the long range communication station. The first officer sat down at his station as the cadet fingered the document out of the tray, then rushed up a small staircase to the middle level where he handed the document to the first officer. The first officer took the document, examined it for five seconds, then–wide-Ayed–handed it to the captain. 

"Follow me."

The crew froze in their place as the captain and first officer stepped off the command platform, turned left then walked to the captain's captain's ready room. The first officer stayed no more than two paces behind the captain. The doors to the captain's office opened with a soft hiss–but didn't close. 

Aaen focused his attention on the duo. The dialogue was quiet but noticeable. Aaen glanced over his right shoulder, pretending to stretch his back. The captain rested the document on his desk, then leaned over the edge of his desk and propped himself up on both arms–turning his head repeatedly as a bead of moisture dropped from his chin onto his desk close to the document. The first officer's jaw started moving as though he were speaking. The captain looked up at him, still turning his head. He was obviously in shock. The first officer stood upright as if at attention, then spoke again. The captain dropped his head, and then stood upright, wiped his face with his sleeves, and then turned toward the bridge. Aaen shifted his attention to the tactical screen, watching through his right peripheral as the captain walked out of the office then turned left down another small staircase. The hiss of the double turbo lift doors told the bridge that the captain had left. 

The doors to the captain's office stayed open for five more seconds as the first officer walked back to the command platform. The ready room doors closed behind him. He stepped up onto the command platform in front of his chair, turned left for one additional step, faced the front of the bridge then gasped, immediately gaining the crew's attention.

"I have just relieved the captain of his command. As of eighteen hundred hours, by order of Spacefleet Command, I am assuming command of the ship." he looked left. "Aaen, note the change of command in the log." Aaen nodded, and then immediately carried out the order. The first officer faced the center of the bridge. "Crew, at ease. Our current orders stand: we are going to rendezvous with the USSC Ranger."

Aaen observed the tactical screen, watching an icon representing the Voyager move along the ship's current flight path to its destination. 

Aaen's screen flashed several times, then the screen displayed a grid with a small Federation logo in the lower-right-hand corner, slowly moving to the opposite corner. A long vertical gray bar on the right side of the screen displayed a long list of black Text.

"Aaen?" the first officer asked.

"The CO2 levels on all decks are starting to increase."

The first officer looked to the next forward row of stations. "Damage Control."

"The CO2 scrubbers just went down for some reason. We're on it, sir."

The first officer relaxed in the chair. His sleeves removed the moisture buildup on the captain chair armrests. After two deep breaths, he stood up, stepped off the command platform then approached the side of Aaen's station. Aaen looked up at him with little surprise. "Sir?"

"Follow me." he led him to the command platform and then gestured him to his assigned chair. Aaen sat down. "You're now the acting first officer, Aaen."

Aaen leaned forward. "What's going on?" the ship's Ambassador leaned into the conversation.

The first officer leaned toward Aaen. "Spacefleet Command has noticed the captain's job performance from our last mission. They weren't impressed. They've also noticed that Mister Shelco has been deliberately putting you in a bridge position that you weren't just not trained for, but that would have choked your career. They overrode his assignment decision for you for this mission. You can safely guess they're going to investigate your previous bridge station assignments."

"I figured as much," Aaen said.

"What was wrong with the captain?" the Ambassador asked. The first officer shrugged his shoulders. "Why, did you–?"

"–The captain told me he couldn't keep being the captain. He said command is too much for him."

"Then why did they assign him to be captain in the first place?" the Ambassador asked.

"It was a mistake. Whoever is supposed to be captain–whoever should have been the captain in the first place–is somewhere on this bridge."

"What about the Odyssey?" Aaen asked. "Is Command deploying them on this mission?" 

"I don't know. The message didn't say anything about the Odyssey. They're probably getting ready for another assignment. It looks like we're on our own on this one."

The intercom whistle sounded on the bridge.

The sensors station flashed and beeped. The image on the main viewscreen changed.

"Bridge, you've got Tex! captain, you there?"

"Tex, this is the first officer. I've taken command of the ship. The captain's in his quarters."

"Alright. Well, sir, I thought I'd bring something to your attention. You looking at the main viewscreen right now?"

"Yeah?"

"Sir, we're passing the Mutara Nebula. We've got a ship in there if I'm not mistaken: the USSC Montgomery. It's a science ship, much larger and more advanced than the Ranger. The Montgomery's  studying the nebula, sir. If we need 'em, we can call them for help."

"What for?" the first officer asked.

"It's space, sir. You never know!" Tex spoke cheerfully.

"Scanner, are you detecting the Montgomery in the nebula?"

The officer checked his sensor scan readings, then looked up at the command platform.

"Yes, sir!"

The image changed to show streaming stars passing by. The sensors station flashed. The neighboring officer leaned left to read the information on the screen.

"Now approaching destination! Full stop! We're gonna hit it!"

The bridge turned red with a spine-chilling alarm.

"Collision–Alert! Collision–Alert!" echoed the Main Computer.

"Full Stop!" the first officer yelled, panicked. Aaen watched him grip the armrests of the captain chair, then listened as the rest of the crew echoed the panic repeatedly while Adam carried out the order until the warp engines rumbled to a stop and the stars gradually became still. 

A swirling blue and white wormhole appeared in the upper-left-hand corner of the screen. The 'object' just to the right, toward the center of the screen; to the right of the object, the USSC Ranger. 

"We're drifting forward!" said the scanner cadet. "Distance nine hundred meters, eight hundred meters. . ." he turned to the command platform. "Recommend using reverse thrusters to avoid collision with the Ranger!"

Adam looked at the first officer. He nodded.

"Engaging reverse thrusters!" Adam said. The distant hum of the thrusters echoed through the bridge. Adam looked at the command platform five seconds later. "Confirmed. The ship has stopped."

"First Officer, we're holding position seven hundred and fifty meters behind the Ranger. They're 25 degrees off our starboard bow." said the scanner cadet.

*****

Steve Hale of Portland, OR told Jordan Foutin, 

"You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

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AD ASTRA!