"Federation Day"

[Mr. Atoz]

[This story is going to be twice as long as normal. I think of it as a two part episode. Don't worry, I don't intend to make a habit of it.]

FEDERATION DAY>>

Captain's log, Stardate 52861.1: Ten days ago, when the Satarran government protested the latest Federation trade sanctions, Starfleet responded by ordering the Odysseus and our sister ship, the Achilles, into that sub-sector. The Odysseus has taken on several Federation transients from the free port of Pavonis 37, and is now en route to rendezvous with the passenger liner Jamaica Bay. In spite of the tensions, we are going ahead with our Federation Day celebrations as planned.

The musicians were warming up with a neo-zydeco-staccato tune from the 2360s that was nothing like the music back home on Romana Magna, but Lieutenant Caeli decided that he liked it anyway. While he bobbed his head in time with the beat, he decided not to ask Kikuro to dance. He had known her for over a year, a long-distance relationship carried out mainly through subspace letters in between the rare occasions when his Starfleet duties and her archeology work happened to place them in the same sector of space. One thing he had already learned about her was that she liked softer, more traditional music to dance to. Right now, she was busy gossiping with Ensign Amelia Penner about all the things he hadn't mentioned to her in his letters.

All three of them were in civilian clothes. Caeli was wearing a loose, buff colored tunic over tight trousers that was fashionable on his home planet. Kikuro was wearing a black silk suit picked out with yellow and blue chrysanthemums, while Penner was wearing a flirty minidress in three different shades of red, her long blond hair falling in a veil down her back.

There was a pause in the women's conversation, during which Penner looked across the starship's hangar deck, which was doing service as the dance floor. "They make a great couple, don't they?" she said with a wistful sigh.

Caeli tried to follow her gaze. Even this early, there were twenty or so lounging and dancing couples scattered across the hangar deck – mostly male/female but a number of male/male and female/female – it wasn't immediately obvious which one she was talking about. "Who does?" he said, as Kikuro also looked around eagerly.

Penner rolled her eyes. "The Captain and Science Officer Weir, of course," she said, as though it should be obvious to anyone with eyes.

Kikuro nodded sagely. "Yes, I see what you mean."

Caeli looked, but he couldn't see it. Captain Atoz was instantly recognizable in his red and black command uniform. He was a quiet, relatively unassuming man, obviously well-liked among the crew as he made his way across the deck, stopping to exchange a word or two with someone every few feet. Lieutenant Commander Diane Weir, also in uniform (hers blue and black for the Sciences department), was an attractive brunette following at his right side. As far as he could tell, when they looked at or spoke to one another it was with the same professional courtesy they extended to every member of the crew, not as if they were a "couple".

"Doctor Tujimori," Atoz said pleasantly, nodding a greeting as they approached. "Enjoying yourself, I hope?"

"Yes, captain, thank you so much," said Kikuro, giving him a graceful little bow. "It was nice of you to have me on board."

"Our pleasure, I assure you. It's lucky for us you were stranded here while we were in the area." He was about to pass on by when his comm badge chirped. "Atoz here," he said, giving it a light tap.

"Sorry to bother you, Captain," said the voice relayed from the ship's bridge. "We're receiving a message from the Jamaica. She says she's having trouble navigating around the Caydor nebula, and asks that we change course to meet her."

Weir frowned. "Captain," she volunteered, "there is a strong theta emission source on the eastern arm of that nebula, but they shouldn't be passing close enough for it to be giving them any problems."

"Go ahead and change course as requested, Mr. Fawkes. I'll be right up," Atoz replied, tapping his comm badge again to close the channel. "Excuse me," he said to the others. "Ship's business." As he turned towards the exit, Weir paused for a second and then followed along behind him.

"What do you think that means?" Kikuro asked.

"Whatever it is," Penner said carelessly, "I'm glad I'm not on duty tonight."

Caeli put his arm gently around Kikuro's back. "Ready to hit the buffet table?"

"You are incorrigible!" she replied, smiling. "Is food the only thing you think about?"

"Not the only thing," he whispered in her ear.

***

Because of the Federation Day dance, the bridge was operating with a minimal crew. As Atoz and Weir arrived, Commander Charles Fawkes, the dark-skinned First Officer, got up unhurriedly from the command chair. "Our heading is 334 mark 41," he reported, taking up a position standing behind the Helm and Ops consoles. "Warp factor four."

"Do you still have the Jamaica Bay on subspace?" the Captain asked as he stepped down into the thingypit area in front of the command chair. On the main viewing screen, he could see the billowing, multicolored mass of the nebula looming up ahead, the misty glow of a small, slowly rotating protostar embedded within its upper edge.

"No, sir," answered the Vulcan Ops officer, Lt. j.g. T'Pana. "We began to experience subspace interference immediately after we informed them that we were altering course."

"Source of the interference?"

"Unable to determine, Captain."

Weir had already taken her place at the Sciences station on the starboard side of the bridge. "I'm picking up gamma and theta bursts from DTS-1588A and B, " she reported, peering into the sensor display. "Plus the expected amount of radio-frequency emissions from the gases of the nebula itself. But that shouldn't be interfering with subspace communications."

Atoz stroked his chin. "Estimated time to intercept, Mr. Nickel?"

The ensign at the helm responded. "Fifteen minutes at present speed, sir."

"Captain, I have a vessel on sensors," said Lt. Rosh, the Eminian tactical officer at his station on the port side of the bridge. "Heading 335 mark 39. It has just dropped out of warp."

"They could be in distress," Fawkes speculated.

"Coming into visual range now, Captain," said Rosh.

The vessel had a slender body, sixty to seventy meters long, its prow coming to a point almost like a dart and tending to broaden towards the rear. Amidships were three interconnected, spherical structures in a triangular pattern, linked to the cylindrical base. Toward the stern, two stubby engine pylons stuck out to the sides.

"The configuration is unfamiliar, Captain," the tactical officer reported. "And I am not reading any life signs."

"Neutralize warp, Mr. Nickel," Atoz said. "Bring us to within a hundred kilometers and then hold station."

"One hundred km, aye," the helmsman replied.

Weir turned from her sensor station as the ship drew nearer. "I confirm no life signs aboard, Captain. There is a power source operating, but it's not any kind of engine or weapons system that I'm familiar with."

"It's definitely not the Jamaica Bay," Atoz said. "What--"

Without any warning, the three spherical structures amidships of the strange vessel began to pulsate and then to glow with a green incandescence so bright it was almost white. "Raise shields!" Fawkes commanded, and just as Rosh confirmed the order, the globes exploded like a nova in a brilliance that seared the optic nerves.

[Mr. Atoz]

A cold mist seemed to be pouring into his brain, saturating his mind, making it difficult to think. He was all there, complete and whole, but most of his self felt stuck, frozen as though in ice where it couldn't be reached. It was an effort to force his sluggish mind to work at all.

He opened his eyes and found himself standing in the middle of an unfamiliar room. It was circular in shape, lined with control stations facing outward toward the circumference. In the center of the room, divided from the rest by a semicircular half railing, were two consoles side by side, facing a large viewing screen which dominated one wall, and just behind them, a chair. A command chair. This is a ship's bridge, he thought suddenly. I've seen one before. I've...

"I don't mean to sound like a complete tosser," said a deep voice immediately to his left, "but who the devil are you people?"

The man who had spoken was dark-skinned, his accent unusual. The language he had used was called English, a Federation standard that wasn't his own native tongue, but which he had learned as a schoolboy. A schoolboy? For a fleeting moment, he had a dizzying vision of a schoolroom somewhere, the windows opened to a cool tropical breeze over swaying palm trees and endless ocean... but where? When? Why couldn't he remember?

He cleared his throat to reply in the same language. Although he knew his own name perfectly well, it seemed to require a great deal of effort to recall the actual words, as if a connection in his brain wasn't quite making contact. "I'm... Atoz. Seven Atoz."

"Really?" said the dark skinned man skeptically. "My name is Charles Fawkes. Can you tell me where I am?"

Atoz shook his head. "I wish I could. There's something vaguely familiar about it, but I can't seem to... place it." The man who called himself Fawkes was wearing a body suit that was primarily black but with bright red sleeves and red panels across the torso front and back. There was a golden metallic badge on his left breast in the shape of a stylized, chevron-like swoosh superimposed over a circle. Looking down, Atoz was surprised to see that he himself was wearing an identical costume. Four other people were in the room, and they were all wearing the same outfit, black although the secondary colors of the torso and sleeves were different in some cases. It must be a uniform then.

Sitting at the two consoles facing forward were a younger man wearing the red and lack uniform, and a young woman wearing gold and black. Atoz was a little startled to realize that the woman was not Human. She had an aquiline nose and a rather severe mannish haircut that revealed sharply arched eyebrows and pointed ears. Standing in front of a console on the left hand side of the bridge was another alien, a tall olive-skinned male also wearing a gold and black uniform, with two ridges from his nose to the top of his head, ending in vestigial horns and making him look like a Greek satyr. On Atoz' other side, a quite attractive brunette woman wearing a blue and black uniform was standing by the railing.

"Arachne, what just happened?" the brunette woman asked abruptly.

When no one replied to her question, Atoz said, "Excuse me? Who were you talking to?"
She paused with a confused expression on her face. "I... I have no idea. It just seemed natural to ask Arachne..."

"The main computer seems to be inoperative," reported the woman with the pointed ears sitting at the console facing forward. "This station is configured for display of the ship's course and speed. We are holding stationary. But I cannot access any information about our location or ship's operational status."

"Is that your normal station then?" said Fawkes. "Miss--?"

"T'Pana," the alien replied, looking up at him warily. "I was seated next to it.. I understand its function. And yet it seems no more familiar than anything else. Or any of you, for that matter."

The horned alien, standing next to the console on the left hand side, spoke gruffly and, it seemed, grudgingly. "This station is configured for ship's tactical and defensive status. The ship is not on combat alert. Sensors record a substantial amount of metallic debris scattered just ahead, but we appear to be in no immediate danger."

"All right then," Fawkes said decisively. "Just to be clear, does any of you know where we are or what we're doing here?" There was an awkward silence as all six of them shook their heads or otherwise expressed their puzzlement.

"Some kind of selective amnesia," the brunette woman said, "affecting all of us at once? How did it happen?"

Fawkes took a deep breath. "We can worry about that later. This is a ship. We need to find out how big it is and what its purpose is. Agreed? I don't mean to go all Papa Bear on you and so on, but until we sort out who the captain is, someone's got to..."

"No argument from me," Atoz assured him. "You're doing fine."

"Let's get on these consoles, then," Fawkes continued, speaking mainly to the people who were already seated at them. "See if we can't get them working properly." Then he turned back to Atoz and the brunette woman. "You two don't look like you have any particular station. Could I ask you to explore a little bit? Don't take any risks, but see what you can find out. Anything would be helpful at this point."

***

Vespis backed away against the bulkhead, her two antennae quivering with distress. She was in a small oblong room, nearly a third of which was taken up by a sort of raised stage platform with six round pads arranged in a circle. There was a freestanding console to her left. Directly to her right, a panel had been removed from the wall, revealing horrendously complex circuits. The alarming thing, though, was the two pink-skinned, antennae-less humanoid aliens crowding her in, a male and a female, both of them wearing black and gold uniforms. Who were they? How did she get in the middle of this?

"Somebody better tell me what's going on," she growled, picking up a heavy tool from the open box at her feet, "and tell me right now!"

"Ya govoryu nyeh kamokchee," said the male creature. "Ya Vilenkin. Kto vwee?"

Vespis glared distrustfully at what she regarded as his apelike gibberish. Naturally he wouldn't speak Andorian, but if they didn't share a common tongue, how were they going to communicate?

"I don't really know what's happening," said the female humanoid, darting nervous glances around the room. "Could someone please tell me where I am?"

Now that was odd. It still wasn't Andorian, but at least it was a language Vespis recognized. Something called Federation Standard, which she had learned in school. "I was going to ask you the same thing," she said, switching to the same language.

"Ah, that's better," the male said, also speaking this Standard tongue. "I was saying, I am Vilenkin. Who are you? What is this place?"

"I have no idea," Vespis said. A little bit calmer, she looked down and realized that she was wearing a uniform that was exactly the same as theirs. It clashed a little with her blue skin. Now that was just too much!

Vilenkin strode over to the door, which hissed open at his approach, revealing a transverse corridor. "Hey, here's something," he said. "There's a label on the door that says 7-154 (P) and next to that Transporter 3. Does that mean anything to either of you?"

The scared young female just shook her head. Vespis frowned, her antennae twitching with irritation as she knelt down to look in the tool kit. Eagerly she seized on an electronic padd she found there. After some experimenting, she managed to pull up the the latest text messages stored on it. Most of them were incomprehensible even when she did understand the words, including one about a "maintenance cycle on the transporters". The last message read: "Meet me at the Dance @ 2000 hrs. Don't make me come looking for you! Papa."

That was just swell! Who in Zarkhon's name was "Papa"?

Hard footsteps approached. Three officers in red and black uniforms were striding purposefully down the corridor. Vilenkin tried to stop them with a greeting. "Hey! Can you tell us what's up?" Vespis and the other female came running, eager for some news.

The three men didn't even break stride, weapons belts and satchels clinking at their sides as they kept marching. "Just shut up and mind your own business," one of them said, casting them a dismissive look.

"Cossacks!" Vilenken called out to their backs as they rounded a corner and disappeared.

"Typical pink-skins," Vespis muttered crossly, and she said it in Standard, earning her a couple of hard resentful looks from her two Human companions.

"What is that supposed to mean?" demanded Vilenkin suspiciously.

Vespis regretted her outburst already. "Look, I'm sorry. Let's focus on figuring out what the zek is going on, shall we? Come on!" And without waiting to see if they followed, she stalked off down the corridor.

***

One corridor over, the three armed men stopped to get their bearings. "You were right, Attack Leader Bankwoe," one of them said quietly. "This is even better than we planned."

"With their memories in turmoil," agreed a second, "see how they squabble! The Federation's own foolish diversity will work against them. Witness how easily we got on board with these superficially altered forms using false documents."

The third, the leader of the group, had taken a scanning device from his satchel and studied it silently. "Even so, we must be thorough." He pointed at the screen. "Lenix, you take out the shield relays on Deck 8. Manteeth, the weapons control on Deck 5. While you do that, I will go to the Central Computer Core and try once again to access the main computer. Something prevented the Hekat Cascade from overwriting their computer systems and gaining control."

"But our computer technology is superior to Starfleet's," said Lenix. "It has been tested once before. How could that happen?"

"I don't know," their leader said, grimly patting his satchel. "But if I cannot subvert and control their computer core, I will destroy it!"

The other two grinned wickedly. "For Satarra!" they said, and separated to go about their tasks.

[Mr. Atoz]

Atoz and the brunette woman had found what was labeled a "Turbolift" and between them they figured out how to operate the manual controls. The schematic display revealed that the ship was twelve decks high and over a hundred and fifty meters long, which was a lot bigger than they expected. The woman suggested that they get an overall impression of the ship first by simply taking the elevator down, stopping briefly at each deck and taking a quick look around the immediate area.

The primary hull was a streamlined saucer shape, and as they descended, each deck was progressively larger. Deck 2 seemed to be mostly machinery and maintenance rooms. Deck 3 held a conference room and various offices for ship's housekeeping. The next three decks were mostly living quarters. On Deck 6 they found thirty or forty people clustered together in a dining area, some in uniforms, others in civilian clothes, but in every case suffering from the same inexplicable amnesia. Weir and Atoz advised them to stay together, stay calm and wait for instructions.

"Er... Hey You, pretty brunette lady," Atoz said, smiling openly at the absurdity of the situation.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she replied, returning his smile. "My name is Diane. Diane Weir. Did I hear you say your name is Seven?"

"Yes. Don't ask me what my parents were thinking. It is a bit unusual, I guess."

She seemed to consider it carefully before giving her opinion. "I guess. But I like it."

"What I wanted to ask, Diane, was if I seemed familiar to you at all."

"Not really," she replied. "Is there any particular reason you ask?"

"Well, we were standing near one another on the bridge, along with that Charles Fawkes character. That would seem to imply that the three of us spend a lot of time together."

"Not necessarily," she said. "The color of my uniform is different from the rest of you. It's possible that I'm new to the ship and was just reporting in. Or perhaps I'm your superior officer, and I had called you to the bridge to reprimand you for some stupid boneheaded mistake you had made."

"Hmm," he said dryly. "Do you feel that's a likely hypothesis?"

"What I feel doesn't matter. I'm only pointing out that there are countless alternatives."

Atoz paused, ruminating silently over a few alternatives himself. "Maybe I was following you around because I was trying to get up the nerve to ask you out on a date."

Weir raised one eyebrow playfully. "And do you feel that's a likely hypothesis, Seven?"

"I may have to decline to answer that one, on the grounds that it may tend to incriminate me."

The décor of the ship to this point was cool and functional, with no unnecessary signposts. Apparently the designers assumed that everyone on board knew where they were going. As they stepped off the elevator on Deck 7 and looked around, they were greeted by potted plants, soothing blue/green colors on the corridor walls, and a sign in friendly letters that said, "Welcome to Sickbay".

"Now we're getting somewhere," said Atoz.

***

Caeli took ten paces toward the center of the big room, turned around and took ten paces back. A quick survey had counted fifty two men and women, all of them reporting the same loss of identity. Although the situation was frightening, at least there was food, drink, musical instruments, a banner that said "Federation Day Dance", all of which gave them some sense of structure. Early on, before the count was organized, three men had slipped through the door and disappeared down the corridor before anyone could stop them, but as their predicament had sunk in the rest seemed to think that this was as good a place as any to simply wait and see what happened next.

"I sympathize with your frustration, Luke," said the woman in black silk who had said her name was Kikuro. "But stalking back and forth like a caged animal will solve nothing."

"Sorry." Caeli knew that she was right. Even if he couldn't remember who he was or where he came from, discipline was ingrained into him. His pacing was not a nervous habit, it was only a response to the deep need inside him to be doing something. He forced himself to stop.

It had been Kikuro who had suggested that, rather than wander aimlessly about in the ship they found themselves on, they should try to figure out how to work the computer panel on the wall near the doorway. Amelia, the girl in the red dress, had jumped at the idea, and now the women were huddled around it, chattering together as they got the display to change from one configuration to another, most of them equally useless.

"Ha! Success!" Amelia said triumphantly. "I've got Communications! External. Internal. Who do you think we should call?"

"The bridge!" said Caeli immediately.

The girl touched one of the control buttons. "Hello? This is the... um... Federation Day Dance Room to Bridge. Come in please!"

There was a long, awkward pause. "This is the bridge," a deep voice answered. A crowd began to gather around to hear the voice of someone who might know what was happening to them. "Where did you say you were?"

Kikuro answered, "There are fifty-two of us in a very large room. It seems to be decorated for some manner of social function. None of us remembers who we are. Can you help us?"

"We're working on that. Can you tell me what kind of uniforms you're wearing?"

"Uniforms?" said Kikuro, looking around at the crowd. "I see a quite eclectic assortment of clothing, but no uniforms."

The voice on the other end sighed in frustration. "We're on board some kind of spaceship. This loss of memory apparently affected all of us. Please remain where you are. We will contact you when we learn anything. Bridge out."

"Huh?" Amelia scoffed as the channel closed. "After all that work we did, we just get a blow off?"

Caeli walked to the door and looked out at the corridor. "Well, I'm not going to just sit here twiddling my thumbs. Don't wait up for me."

Kikuro watched him, aware of a certain physical attraction for him. She liked his initiative, even though it struck her as bordering on rashness. Should she volunteer to go with him, or would he think she was being too forward?

"Wait a second, Blue Eyes," Amelia said. "I'm coming with you."

"I told you my name is Luke."

"And I'm terrible with names," she said, gathering her long hair up into a ponytail to get it out of her way. "Did you have some kind of plan in mind, or were you just going to wing it?"

He stood for a moment with his arms crossed, sizing her up – a petite girl, not more than 22 he would guess. In her short, girly dress, was she going to be more of a hindrance than a help? "I was just going to take things as they come," he said, hoping that would discourage her from tagging along.

"My kind of plan," she said with a bright smile. "Lead on, Blue Eyes."

[Mr. Atoz]

"That's going to be useful," Fawkes commented as he closed the channel. He was looking over T'Pana's shoulder at her console, which was now displaying Internal Communications. "I wondered why we couldn't find any intercom panels when we searched earlier."

"Normally Internal Communications are handled by the ship's computer," the Vulcan explained. "With the main computer down, someone in the shuttle bay has apparently bypassed the normal circuits and routed the InCom subsystem through one of the subsidiary engineering logic processors. A very clever solution, if I may say so." Privately she was glad that there must be other Vulcans like herself somewhere on the ship, because these round-ears were obviously deficient in intelligence. But it would never occur to her to say this out loud. "We have External Communications as well, but there seems to be subspace interference, preventing us from contacting anyone."

"If we knew who to call, anyway," the Human muttered. He pointed out an icon on the screen that looked a little like the stylized chevron badges they all wore. "What do you suppose that's for?" he asked aloud.

Reaching across her breast, she pressed her badge and said, "T'Pana to Bridge." He did a comical jump backwards as his own badge chirped and her voice came out of it.

"Crikey! How did you figure that out?" he asked.

The Vulcan effortlessly suppressed a slight twinge of superiority. "Simple logic," she said.

Fawkes vaguely wondered how such a tiny badge could have speakers built into it. Auditory molecular excitation phenomenon, he remembered. Isotronics 101, Professor Frazier. Bollocks! How could he remember that and not the name of this ship, or the last time he got shagged? "So we can use these to call sections of the ship?" he said.

T'Pana nodded. "If the main computer were operating, you would be able to call a specific, individual crew member. Or you could call, for example, the Captain, and it would put you through to him provided you were one of the ship's staff officers. Unfortunately the subsidiary system it has been routed through does not have that capability."

"Too bad," Fawkes muttered, thinking it would be a simple way to find him. Then again, he doubted if it would make any difference. He probably was the Captain, for all the good that did him...

He checked with the young Human, Joe, who had gotten the helm on manual controls. The nearby nebula was putting out some kind of radiation that interfered slightly with the sensors, so he was now steering the ship at one quarter impulse speed away from it, on the theory that it might relieve their interference problem as well. Other than the main computer, all ship's systems seemed to be fully functional. Satisfied that all was well there, he moved on to what they were calling the Defense station.

He approached cautiously because the alien with the horns made him a little uneasy. And as he did every time he came near, Rosh shifted his position to face him. "There is a problem," he said grudgingly. "I have defensive systems on line, in case we need them. The ship has two 'phaser banks', as well as forward and aft torpedo launchers."

"Sounds good," said Fawkes. "What's the problem?"

"Without the main computer, these weapons must be charged and operated manually. We must physically send someone to the fire control stations on Deck 5."

Fawkes shrugged it off with a wry grimace. "I don't think we need to worry unless someone attacks us. And who would want to do that?"

"Er... Charles? Fawkes? Mister?" the young man at the helm stammered. "Forward sensors are picking up two... make that three ships on an intercept course." Without being told, he pushed a button which switched his monitor to the main view screen.

There they could all see three long, dart-like space vessels with broad, flat sterns and two stubby engine pylons. They looked like deadly stilettos vectoring in towards the ship.

Fawkes felt a cold chill of deja vu tugging at his brain. Where had he seen ships like this before?

***

Vespis turned left and found herself in the middle of a curving corridor with cargo bays on either side, where she turned left again. "Can you at least give us a hint what you're looking for?" Vilenkin asked irritably, as he and the girl, who called herself Soo Jiang, hurried to keep up.

"I'll know it when I see it," the Andorian replied. At last the passage she was following came out into a service corridor. She followed it to the right, then turned left again. "If you've been noticing the numbers on the doors," she said, "they go clockwise around the ship. Now we're going back counterclockwise, so pretty soon we ought to get to..." She stopped dead. The other two could see her smiling, her antennae doing a soothing little wiggle of satisfaction. The door ahead had a neat label which read "7-421 (S) Main Engineering".

"That's what I'm looking for."

Inside, they found an enormous room housing a gigantic glowing cylinder which went straight up three decks. "I know what that is," said Jiang, her voice hushed with awe. "That's a warp core!"

At the sound of her voice, three other people in gold and black uniforms came into view, stepping around the big, freestanding main console of the monitor room behind them.

"Gold uniforms," said Vilenkin slowly. "We have tool kits. We were doing maintenance on a complex machine. Gold must stand for Engineering."

"Not bad for a pink-skin," Vespis said, smiling.

He flashed her a resentful look, but let it pass. "What next then, Fearless Leader?"

"You got me. I was kind of hoping for some further inspiration once we got here."

***

Sickbay was a busy hive of activity. A dozen people were in the waiting room. Down the curving corridor, others were being led between examining rooms by staff members in blue and black uniforms. The receptionist tried to take Atoz' and Weir's names, but Atoz pushed past her and stopped a lanky man wearing a green smock over his civilian clothes, but who seemed to be giving the orders. "We just came down from the bridge," Atoz said. "Are you in charge here?"

"I suppose I am," the lanky man said with a wide grin as he shook Atoz' hand. "Ben Pierce, Chief Cook and Bottle Washer. Pants pressed while you wait. I take it you folks are also having problems remembering who you are?"

Weir nodded a little uncertainly. Atoz said, "Have you isolated what the trouble is?"

"Take a gander at this," said Pierce, fishing a tricorder out of the pocket of his smock. He started to show it to Atoz, but taking note of his red uniform, changed his mind in favor of Weir's blue uniform instead. "This is a composite model based on the brain scans of the first three lucky customers, including yours truly. See the heightened activity in the prefrontal cortex, and the corresponding lack of activity in the thalamencephalon?"

Weir's brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to think. "That looks like a form of dendriform electrostatic induction, in three dimensions instead of two. Notice the way the foreign pattern has been superimposed?"

"You mean it's not just blocking the thalamic network, it's actually supplanting it?"

"You'd have to compare the base time error rates to be sure, but it's possible."

Pierce slapped his thigh, his face lighting up as if that were the missing piece of the puzzle that he had been waiting for. "This isn't biological at all! It's not accidental. It was done to us by something!"

"This is all very interesting, Mr. Pierce," said Atoz. "But can it be reversed?"

Pierce looked over his shoulder at the busy corridor as if he suddenly didn't want to be overheard. "Step into my office." He led the the two of them around a corner and into a more private room. Once the three of them were alone, his cheerful grin dribbled away and he said, "I haven't the foggiest idea where to start. I've never seen anything like this." He gestured towards the flatscreen computer monitor on the desk. "There's something on there called the Starfleet Medical Database, which would seem to be a good place to look, but all I get is a Try Again Later message."

"The main computer is still not functioning?" said Weir, narrowing her eyes as she slid into the chair. "Maybe I can do something about that."

"Isn't there something?" Atoz insisted. "Some kind of treatment? If you're right and this was part of some kind of deliberate attack, I can't help wondering when the other shoe is going to drop."

[Mr. Atoz]

Caeli had spotted a "turbolift" pretty early on, but passed it by on the theory that the more he physically saw of the ship, the better his chances of something jogging his memory. So far it wasn't working. They seemed to be on Deck 7, in the engineering section. Door after door had labels like "Machine Shop", "Astronautics Support", "Environmental Machinery", or "Tertiary Storage Cells". Kikuro and Amelia followed behind him uncomplainingly.

On an impulse, he climbed up the first companionway he found to the next level up. This was obviously living quarters. It looked like the Minotaur's maze.

"Hey, I hear people," said Amelia suddenly as they approached an intersection.

Luke and Kikuro stopped to listen. "I'm sure you are mistaken," Kikuro said. "Perhaps the ventilation--"

"No, it's people talking," the girl insisted. "It sounds like a dining room or something. Let's check it out."

"You're not hungry are you?" said Luke.

"There's somebody! Let's ask!"

The person she had pointed out was a big male figure in a red and black uniform. He had just come up a gangway from the lower level, and as he turned around, he kept hold of the center railing to continue upwards. He was carrying a satchel over his left shoulder, and a big sidearm flapped at his side.

A sidearm? Caeli's suspicion perked up at once. "Hey you!" he called, advancing. "Stop!" The man flashed him a guilty look and hurried on up the ladder out of sight. Now that was definitely not right! Without thinking about the two women, Caeli gave chase.

***

The three dart-like space vessels streaked closer, their narrow edge-on silhouettes looking sinister on the view screen. "The tactical sensor computer identifies them as Class Five, whatever that means," Rosh said. The size of a corvette or small frigate, something in his memory supplied.

"Five hundred kilometers and closing," said T'Pana. "One of them is opening fire."

A bright yellow energy burst appeared amidships of one of the oncoming vessels as it threw a projectile beam. Boring down unerringly on target, it suddenly vanished in a blue flash a hundred meters ahead of the ship.

"That was a level two particle accelerator," said Rosh at the Defense station. "A ranging shot, no damage. Our navigational deflector turned it aside."

"Can you raise the shields?" said Fawkes, almost elbowing him aside at the console.

Rosh grabbed him by the left shoulder, his brow tightening in anger at having his space intruded on. "Already done," he said, pushing the dark-skinned Human away. "Their weapons technology seems substantially inferior to ours. There should be no problem withstanding their attack."

"Three hundred kilometers," said T'Pana. "Two hundred..."

"Joe, how about some evasive action?" Fawkes snapped over his shoulder, not wanting to take his eyes off the alien with the horns.

"Aye-aye," the helmsman replied, putting the ship into a wide starboard turn.

Just then there was an explosion on Deck 8, which went unfelt on the bridge, even though its effects were not. "Shields are failing!" said Rosh, turning away from Fawkes to tend his console. "Dropping to fifty percent... forty... twenty... zero!"

The three enemy spacecraft launched their assault at fifty kilometers, their midships regions blossoming with rapid-fire energy bolts. One after another, impact after impact tore through the Odysseus' minimal deflectors to strike the starship's unprotected hull. The bridge trembled from the multiple concussions, the light panels flickered on and off. And in the midst of it all, the Red Alert siren began to scream like a banshee.

Fawkes clawed his way to the helm across the wildly shuddering deck. With no weapons to return fire, there was only one option. "Get us out of here! Full speed!"

"We've taken hits on the port engine," the helmsman replied. "Power level dropping."

The enemy craft zoomed past and arced around for another pass. "Keep our bow facing them!" Rosh ordered from his station. "Do not let them strike our stern!"

"It's too late for that," Fawkes called back, as he took over the helm controls and put the ship into an even steeper turn. "What was your assessment? Would you say these ships don't have the same level of technology we do?"

"Yes!" Rosh agreed.

"Time to get clever then." As the attacking vessels strafed them again, he put their ship into a corkscrew roll to port, the sudden move catching everyone on the bridge off guard and nearly sending them sliding out of their seats.. The maneuver also surprised their pursuers, because their next salvo completely missed. A second after that, there was a bright flash and the ship stopped dead in space. Through the view screen, all that could be seen was a faintly luminous cloud.

"What did you do?" asked T'Pana.

"A microsecond warp jump into the heart of the nebula," said Fawkes, standing up and conceding the helm back to Joe. "Let them find us here."

Rosh grudgingly admitted to himself that the dark-skinned Human certainly knew how to handle a ship. Perhaps that was the reason for his red uniform. There was respect in his voice as he asked, "Why not use this warp drive to get far away from the field of battle, then?"

"Two reasons," Fawkes replied. "One, our warp engines were damaged in the attack. I wasn't sure if they could handle sustained travel. Two, we still don't know where to go, remember?"

"True," said Rosh. "Picking a direction at random, we could easily move deeper into the territory of our enemies, whoever they are."

Fawkes nodded. "I'm hoping this stunt will buy us some time, nothing more."

>>>>>to be continued....

[Thallassa]

I'm on the edge of my seat! What happens next???

[Niemz]

Me too!

[Mr. Atoz]

Part II>>>>

The two violent maneuvers, first to starboard and then to port, had caught them completely off guard in Main Engineering. Then there had been the sudden eruption of red warning lights over half the monitor consoles, followed by the raucous, blood-curdling wail of the Red Alert siren itself. "Don't get excited! Don't get excited!" Vespis called out, striving to keep order. "Stay in your places and do what I told you! Vilenkin, get in there and watch the impulse power converters! Jiang, keep both eyes on that dilithium manifold, don't let it go higher than 2000 kelvins. You-- I don't remember your name, but park your bony butt here by the plasma displacement modulator and let me know if it does anything out of the ordinary."

There was a dull WHUMP and a flash of smoke and flame from the alcove back towards the forward part of the compartment. "We just lost the port plasma stabilizer," Vilenkin's voice called out. "Pull him back! Get that fire out!"

Vespis wanted dearly to rush over and help him, but right now her attention was focused on keeping the primary impulse systems from crashing, shutting off power to an EPS conduit that had ruptured somewhere on deck 8. Holy Zarkhon! It fed the deflector shield grid!

Suddenly the bridge was calling for a micro-warp jump. The three story warp core warbled like teapot boiling over, the blue incandescent antimatter flux rippling upward along its length. The very air seemed to hum as the ship tore briefly through hyperspace.

And then, incredibly, it was all over! The ship had come to a dead stop, the bridge apparently no longer feeling the need for suicidally violent maneuvers. The Red Alert stopped wailing, although the light was still flashing. Vespis had no idea what it had all been about, if the ship had been attacked and if so whether the enemy had won or been beaten back. And right now she didn't care. She paused to draw a deep breath. "Vilenkin, see about getting that stabilizer repaired. Jiang, I want you to align those impulse power couplings and resynchronize them. Don't be silly, you can do it! You-- er... Bony Butt, find out if anyone's injured and get them to Sickbay."

She looked around to see if she had forgotten anything. Then she stalked over to the main console and found Internal Communications. "Engineering to Bridge. Who's the moron responsible for almost getting us killed?"

***

In Sickbay, they rode out the Red Alert by the simple expedient of dropping to the deck and bracing themselves. When it was over and they were picking themselves up, the receptionist came hurrying to find Pierce. "The console at the Nurse's station is lighting up! People are calling in, reporting injuries! What am I supposed to do?"

"Just calm down, Miss Miller. I want you to organize those people in the waiting room. Anybody who's not hurt. Ask them to go out and bring them back here. You stay at the Nurse's station to coordinate, all right?" She nodded and hurried back to her station. "Could I ask you to help out with the casualties, Mr. Atoz? We need every hand we can get."

"I'd like to," Atoz said, gesturing towards his uniform, "but I'm apparently a bridge officer. I'd better get back up there and report to Mr. Fawkes. Where's Diane?" Without waiting for an answer, he strode down the corridor to the office where he had last seen her. She was still there, a deep furrow on her brow as she worked away at the computer keyboard as though totally oblivious to anything else. "Look at her," Atoz mused. "Twenty minutes ago, she didn't know who she was, apart from her name."

"She still doesn't," Pierce said quietly. "Everything you are is still in there someplace. It's just shut away where you can't get to it consciously. She obviously spends a lot of time with that computer."

"It's almost as if her fingers know what to do without consulting her brain."

"Autosomatic association. Her cerebellum and brain stem bypass the conscious parts of her brain where her higher level memories are stored. When I came to, I was here in Sickbay in civilian clothes. What did I know? I could have been just another patient. But I took one look at the surgical instruments and I knew exactly what to do with them, even if I didn't understand why at first."

Atoz stood in the doorway, enviously watching Weir at work. "Don't let it get you down," Pierce said. "All you have to do is find the station you spent most of your time at, and it'll all come back."

"Oh right," Atoz said ruefully. "All I have to do is search every inch of this ship until I find that station, eh?"

Suddenly Weir looked up and noticed them in the doorway. "Seven!" she said with a bright smile. "While you've been sitting on your cute little tush, I've been making some progress."

"Did you just say I had a cute tush?"

Her cheeks colored slightly. "Focus, Seven." With an air of triumph, she pressed a control pad.

Right there in front of them, a full-sized hologram appeared of a beautiful young woman wearing the long white chiton and laurel leaf headdress of a Greek goddess. "Hello, Diane!" she said. "It's good to see you!"

Without acknowledging the greeting, Weir explained. "This is the artificial intelligence that serves as interface with the main ship's computer. It's called Arachne."

The avatar turned its head, letting its simulated eyes scan the room. "Hello, Captain, Doctor."

Everyone reacted with surprise, not least of all Atoz. "Did... did you address me as Captain?"

"Of course. Captain Seven Seven Atoz, commanding officer of the Federation starship Odysseus as of Stardate 51493.2. Lieutenant Commander Benford Jackson Pierce, Chief Medical Officer. Lieutenant Commander Diane Victoria Weir, Science Officer."

[Mr. Atoz]

The attack had caught Caeli halfway up the companionway. He was able to wrap his arms around the railing and hang on while underneath him the whole ship seemed to shudder and vibrate from the repeated impacts. When it was over, he kept climbing.

He came out of the stairwell on Deck 5 facing a blind wall. Turning left, he found himself in a small triangular lounge area sectioned off from the hallway by a narrow, chest height divider. The light was dim. Half the illumination panels were out, and a pall of smoke hung in the air. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, allowing some broken piping and wiring to hang downward. "Luke!" he heard Amelia shout up the gangway. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine!" he called back. "Be careful! There's a lot of damage up here!" As he turned forward again, he came face to face with the man he had been chasing. The man's eyes narrowed as he swiveled forward and took a swing at him.

Caeli instinctively ducked under the blow and parried, pivoting on his left foot while he brought his right up for a kick to the man's solar plexus. As he rose upright again, he gave his opponent a left hook straight to the jaw.

It was like punching a side of beef! The man's skeletal and muscular structure were a lot denser than normal. He grinned with shark-like white teeth as he grabbed a handful of Caeli's tunic and flung him through the divider, sending him crashing into a table.

***

Fawkes had dealt with the angry person who had called up from the Engineering section in exemplary diplomatic fashion, T'Pana thought. He politely assured her that the next time the ship was ambushed, he would personally send her an engraved invitation to the upcoming battle, complete with RSVP card, but in the meantime would she please engage in voluntary sexual intercourse and clear the communications line? T'Pana was not quite sure of her translation of that last part, but whatever the meaning it certainly got the job done.

"Fawkes, we are being hailed," she said. "Audio and visual."

"Can you put it up on that big screen thing?"

The humanoid creature who appeared on the screen had dark gray skin with black highlights, almost as if he were made of wrought iron. Everything about him suggested hardness and cruelty.

"You cannot hide from us forever, Odysseus," he said simply, showing white teeth like a shark's.

Odysseus? Was that the name of the ship then? Fawkes filed away the information. "I'm not aiming at forever," he replied, leaning back in the command chair as if he were on a comfortable pleasure cruise. "Just long enough. Can you at least tell us why you're trying to destroy us?"

"This is neither the time nor place for political discussions. Surrender your vessel intact and I promise your crew will be interned and well taken care of. If you make us come in after you, we will kill every last one of you."

Those words seemed to hang there in the air of the bridge. "Give me a minute to think about it," Fawkes said.

"Be warned my species has very little patience, Odysseus!" There was a chirp as T'Pana closed off the channel.

Fawkes stared at the blank screen for a moment. "How long do you think it will take them to find us?"

Rosh glanced at his instruments. "This particular nebula has a volume of over fourteen cubic light-years. Their scanning technology seems quite limited. I estimate it will take them six hours to cover it all."

Fawkes slumped back in the command chair. "Mister Rosh, it might be a good idea to send somebody to that phaser control station you mentioned."

***

Atoz was the first of the three to recover from the news. Of course he had noticed the three little pips on Diane's collar, one darker than the others, but with one thing an another, it simply hadn't crossed his mind to connect that with a rank insignia. He hadn't bothered to look down at his own collar to see how many were there. "None of us remember who we are. Can you tell us how that happened?"

Arachne tilted her head slightly, as though she were consulting something that only she could see. "I am afraid not. At 15:32:23, the ship came under attack by an unknown type of energy. The surge overwhelmed the sensors and gained access to the optical waveguide network, by which it attacked the computer system. I judged it best to protect the computer core by closing off all access. I had been unable to reestablish contact until Diane did so just now."

"That energy surge," Weir wondered aloud. "Could it have been responsible for suppressing our memories, too? Arachne, is there any record of something of this nature happening to any other spaceship?"

"Accessing Starfleet database..."

Atoz stirred impatiently. "Cancel that. We don't really have time to run the records right now. What can you tell me about current ship's status? Are we under attack?"

"Partial review of the ship's flight recorder data indicates that the ship is now evading pursuit in the Caydor Nebula. There has been damage to the port impulse and warp engines resulting in 40% loss of engine power. Damage to power grid resulting in 95% loss of defensive shields. Damage to superstructure, 20%. DC teams have been allocated to--"

"That's enough. I've got to get to the bridge. Come on, Diane."

He had started for the door when he noticed that she wasn't following. "Um... Sir?" she said awkwardly. "I... I think I should stay with Dr. Pierce and try to figure out a way to reverse this memory loss. With your permission, sir."

Atoz was stunned by the change in her tone of voice. What had happened? She sounded almost like a totally different person. After the time they had spent exploring the ship together, it was painful to hear her call him "sir" that way. What had changed? Wasn't he the same man? When he tried to look at her, she refused to meet his eyes. It was as if she had erected a wall between them, invisible and yet a barrier that couldn't be ignored.

But he didn't have the time to puzzle it out. "You're right, that's probably a good idea, lieutenant commander," he replied, then turned back to face the AI. "Is there any way to contact the bridge?"

"Of course," Arachne said. Atoz' comm badge chirped twice. Fawkes voice answered irritably, "Yes? Whoever this is, it had better be good."

***

Caeli scrambled to his feet, almost colliding with Amelia and Kikuro. "Did you see where he went?" As the women shook their heads, he ran through the triangular lounge area and into a long, straight corridor. Far ahead, a dark, shadowy figure was running. The shadow turned and fired its sidearm. A glowing red projectile tore down the corridor, missing Caeli by inches as it slammed into the duralloy bulkhead next to him and ripped a hole in it the size of his fist. The figure turned a corner and disappeared.

Behind him in the lounge area, Caeli heard Amelia trying to activate a computer panel, but he didn't wait. Long strides took him down the corridor, through an intersection, and around the same corner. This new corridor was a curving one, but it soon dead-ended in a pocket door. The man he had been chasing was standing in the open doorway, holding his sidearm pointed back the way he had come. Straight at Caeli's chest! "Persistent fellow, aren't you?" the man said.

Caeli froze, but the man didn't fire. His facial features seemed to flow like melting wax, reforming into a decidedly less human appearance. His hair receded upwards into a little skullcap, while the pigmentation of his skin darkened to an ugly dark gray streaked with black. He grinned, flashing those white shark teeth as he pulled a small oblong object from the satchel at his side. Activating it, he hurled the object into the room, then he stepped back towards Caeli, letting the door hiss shut behind him. There was just enough light to read the sign on the door... "5-014 Starboard Phaser Control".

Caeli backed away, keeping his eyes on the alien's gun as he felt his way along the smooth, curving corridor wall. There was a pocket door to his right as he passed the T-junction he had originally entered from. Suddenly he sprang forward. Feigning to the right, he jumped, kicked off from the corridor wall and launched himself into the alien, slamming his left elbow into his face just as the gun went off. The projectile went wild, tearing into a conduit in the ceiling.

The alien dropped the weapon so that he could bring both arms around to grapple with Caeli. The smaller Human twisted out of his grasp, landing half a dozen punches on his lower abdomen. The alien shrugged the attack off, shoving Caeli backwards with a sweep of his massive arm. He had to have vulnerable spots!

Their running battle took them through another set of pocket doors into Turbolift Maintenance. Caeli struck out with a kick aimed at the alien's groin area. His opponent blocked it, catching the Human off balance and tossing him across the railing into the turboshaft. Caeli desperately grabbed hold of the rubberized fend-off at the edge of the shaft, legs dangling precariously over a vertical drop of four decks!

Shark teeth flashing, the alien bent forward to pry his hands loose.

Without warning, something slammed into him from behind. At the same time, Caeli grabbed his hand and pulled. Caught off balance, the alien plunged down the shaft and landed at the bottom with a thud. Thank the Lord, Caeli thought. Although it may not have been a good idea to let go his hold on the fend-off, because now his other hand was slipping...

"Luke!" called a soft female voice. "Speak to me! Are you injured?"

There was Kikuro, her soft, slender hands reaching down to take hold of his wrists, steading him as he climbed back up to safety. "I thought I was a goner!" he gasped, hugging her silk-draped body and kissing her face without even thinking about what he was doing. Then he suddenly jumped to his feet, hauling her up with him. "That alien! We've got to get back to the--"

Just then the concussion grenade the alien had tossed into the phaser control room exploded.

***

"Bridge, this is Amelia! You know, from the Shuttle Bay?"

T'Pana was conscious of a very slight thrill of pleasure. This was the woman who had gotten Internal Communications on line. "Yes, A'meel'ya," she said, picturing a fellow Vulcan.

"We're on deck number five! There's someone shooting weapons down here! We need HELP!"

***

The alien named Bankwoe was kneeling in a short, out of the way corridor, fiddling with the bulky device he had attached over the key pad on the door. He had been here for some time, struggling to circumvent the door's security code. This couldn't be done by the brute force method of using every possible combination, because that would alert the computer to his presence. It had to be done carefully, delicately probing the circuits for the correct pathway.

The device beeped. At last! The door slid open, revealing a circular room that covered two levels. In the center was the main memory core. Arranged around him were squat, rectangular units that held the ship's storage crystals. Above him was a metal mesh catwalk. Up there was where he could access the ship's working memory. He went to the ladder and began to climb.

[Mr. Atoz]

Atoz was riding the turbolift upwards when Arachne's voice broke into his thoughts. "Captain," she said, "someone has just breached the security lockout on the Central Computer Core."

Atoz gingerly pressed his comm badge. "This is the Captain to... Security. Intruder Alert in the Central Computer Core. Send someone to look into it immediately."

The voice that came back sounded willing enough, if a little vague on the details. "Security here. Will do, Captain. Er... How do I find the Central Computer Core?"

"Arachne, you can direct them there, can't you?"

"Yes, Captain. May I also suggest Security Protocol Beta 2?"

Atoz thought, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what she was talking about. "Um... yes, that would be good. Security Protocol Beta 2, engage."

He nodded his satisfaction just as the turbolift came to a halt and the doors hissed open to the bridge.

With the restoration of the main computer, all the bridge stations were at full operational readiness. T'Pana and Nickel were busy at their consoles, but Fawkes and Rosh watched Atoz walk onto the bridge warily. Arachne had preceded him, her goddess avatar standing next to the command chair. Atoz couldn't think of anything to say except, "Relieving you, Mr. Fawkes."

"Just like that?" the dark-skinned Human replied. "Don't get me wrong, but how do I know this..." he gestured at Arachne's avatar, "...isn't just some hologram you and that other woman cooked up?"

For a second Atoz faltered. He hadn't thought of that. Weir certainly seemed to be capable of that, in a technical sense at least. But thinking back, her surprise when Arachne had revealed his rank and position had seemed just as genuine as his own. And this was not the time to start second guessing her. "Look, you've been doing a great job. All of you have. If it was a matter of choice, I'd let you continue." He paused for a deep breath. Even he wasn't sure what he was going to say next. He was startled to realize that there was an undercurrent of insecurity inside him which almost resented this new position that had been unexpectedly thrust onto him. If his own confidence in his fitness was on shaky ground, how could he make Fawkes see it?

"But the fact that I am the Captain means something. It means whoever put me here did it because I have the skills and the training to do the job. I must have those skills, or I wouldn't be here. I have to trust them that they knew what they were doing." He stepped a little closer to Fawkes. "So are you going to trust me?"

Fawkes glanced over at Rosh, who also seemed uneasy at the change in command. His face wore a creased frown that seem almost habitual. But he shrugged and got up from the command chair. "All yours, Captain."

"Good!" said Atoz, breathing a sigh of relief as he eased into the chair. Did it feel the slightest bit familiar? Even a little bit? "Fill me in."

***

"Look at this, doctor," said Weir, turning the flatscreen computer monitor around so that he could see it. "Our situation is not unique. The same thing happened to the USS Enterprise on Stardate 45494.2. A species called the Satarrans were involved."

Pierce leaned across the desk to look at the monitor. "You don't expect me to read this whole thing, do you?"

"In summary, Dr. Crusher found that she could relieve the suppression by selectively stimulating key areas of the diencephalon."

The doctor shook his head. "That sounds like a pretty delicate procedure. It's not going to help us much in our present crisis."

"No, and it gets even worse than that. What happened to us is qualitatively different from the Enterprise's case. One, the base potential of the induction field was at least ten to fourth joules higher. Two, the cellular disruption rate is retaining a hyperbolic curve. Three--"

"You don't have to talk me into it," Pierce interrupted. "I see what you're driving at. If we don't do something soon, this memory loss is going to be permanent."

"But... I'm been thinking. An electrochemical induction cascade can be reversed."

Pierce considered this. "But has it ever been tried inside a living human brain? Will the cell nuclei survive?"

"It would have to be done carefully," she admitted.

"We'll need to have the patient hooked up to a full cryosurgical frame just in case. Can you reprogram the neurostimulator while I scare us up a guinea pig?"

Weir suddenly stopped to think about the implications of what she had just said. Did she really want to change things? It had felt so nice when it was just her and Seven... Captain Seven, she had to remind herself ruefully. What if things were different between them when they regained their memories? What if the Captain hated her for the condescending and familiar way she had treated him? Why couldn't she just keep things the way they were?

No! She had no right to play games with the others just to satisfy her own selfish fantasies. This entire thing only confirmed what she had believed all her life, that emotions were treacherous. Emotions led you into blind alleys, gave you false hopes.

"Of course. I'll get right on it."

***

"According to my monitors," Vespis reported, "our power levels have dropped to 53% of normal. But I've got the intermix sequencer stabilized, so the engines aren't going to blow up in our faces."

"That's nice to know," Atoz replied. "What about weapons and... um... shields?"

"All you've got is the port phaser bank. There was an explosion in the starboard control room, and it took out the coil and the capacitors for that bank. There's no repairing it. Dorsal shields are also fried. The ventral shields are okay, much good as that does us."

Atoz rubbed his chin. They had shields for the underside of the ship, but the remaining weapon bank was on the upper surface. How was he supposed to go into battle like that? Over the comm link, Vespis sighed and continued, "I get this frustrating feeling that somewhere inside I know exactly what to do to fix all this stuff, but my brain just won't cooperate."

"I understand the feeling," Atoz said. "We're all suffering from the same thing. How many people have you got down there helping you?"

There was a pause as if she had to look around and do a head count. "Uh... about ten or twelve. Some are in civilian clothes, so I can't be sure..."

"Some of them may remember things you don't. You've got to trust them. Bridge out."

"Captain," T'Pana said, "the enemy is hailing us again."

"On screen."

The gray, hard-skinned alien seemed slightly disconcerted that a new commander was in the command chair. Or maybe he was just frustrated with searching. "Odysseus, I grow weary of this cat and mouse game. If you will not come out and face me, I will go after a more amenable target!" Petulantly, his face disappeared from the screen, and in its place was a distant view of a long, cylindrical space vessel with a V-shaped prow, moving slowly around a distant arm of the nebula. The sight of it didn't mean much to Atoz.

"Vessel identified," said T'Pana. "Federation passenger liner Jamaica Bay, crew of 83. Current passenger list... Two hundred and forty."

Rosh turned from his Defense station. "The enemy vessels are leaving the nebula on an attack course, Captain."

Atoz leaned forward, rubbing his eyes. He didn't need this! He did not need this! "Mister... er, helmsman..."

"Nickel, sir."

"Mister Nickel, three quarter speed ahead. Plot an intercept course to engage the enemy."

"Aye, sir."

"Captain," said Fawkes, stepping over beside the command chair, "if we're going into combat, I request permission to take the helm. Mister Nickel can handle Damage Control."

What was this? Was this Fawkes' way of saying that he still wasn't sure that Atoz knew a command chair from a hole in the ground, and placing himself in a position to pull his fat out of the fire if the need arose? He broke eye contact with Fawkes and glanced at Nickel for his opinion. The younger man licked his lips, looking about as terrified as Atoz felt, and that was something. "Request granted. Mister Nickel, coordinate Damage Control."

As the two officers switched places, Atoz turned to Rosh's station. "Sound Red..." He stopped himself, remembering how terrified everyone in Sickbay had been by the sound of that siren. As he recalled, every gram of instinct he possessed had wanted to take action, the only trouble was he hadn't known what action to take! The result had been paralysis. "Sound Yellow Alert, Mr. Rosh," he amended it to. "Arachne, can you put me on the comm system so that I can speak to everyone on the ship?"

"Yes, Captain. Address Intra-craft Open."

"This is the Captain. The ship is on Yellow Alert status. We'll be going into combat in just a few moments. If you're at your assigned Battle Station, stay there. If you don't know where that is, don't worry about it. Move to the central areas of the ship, and stand by to help with Damage Control as the need arises. Above all, don't panic. This is an A-one crew, and whatever happens I know you'll all perform outstandingly. Captain out."

[Mr. Atoz]

The environmental system had cleared away the smoke from the destroyed phaser coil, but broken pipes and conduits still littered the hallway. Obeying the message that had just come over the corridor speakers, Caeli put his arm around Kikuro's waist and together they picked their way back in the direction of that triangular lounge area. At the intersection, four humanoid shapes loomed up ahead in the flickering light of the long straight corridor, but they turned out to be only four Humans, a man in a gold and black uniform, a woman with short reddish hair in blue and black, and two men in civilian clothes. "Someone called the bridge and said you needed help down here," the woman said.

Caeli managed a wry grin. "I guess it's all over now..."

Suddenly they heard a shrill scream. "Luke! Help!" It was Amelia's voice, coming from the left hand branch of the intersection. Right at the point where the corridor curved out of sight, they could see a big gray-skinned humanoid, carrying Amelia slung over his shoulder. Another of those aliens?

Caeli's mind flashed back a few minutes as he thought about the symmetry of the deck. "Stercus! He's going for the other phaser control room, on the port side! Come on!"

Kikuro still didn't know much about herself, but she did know that she was not the warrior type. She could feel Luke pulling out of her arms and she resisted. "Please, Luke..." But he had already slipped away from her, loping off down the corridor with the others. After the other girl, the blond girl in the red dress, Kikuro thought with a touch of jealousy.

Lenix kept a tight grip on the struggling Amelia. "Hold still, blast you! My camouflage field has failed, and I will need your biometrics to open the control room door. After that, you can run if you wish." Not that it would do her any good, the alien thought smugly.

***

Bankwoe looked around at the upper level of the computer core. There was still another level of security to get through before he could try to access the computer. He didn't have time for this. Reaching into his satchel, he grabbed hold of a concussion grenade and let the empty bag fall to the deck. Setting the explosive on the main console, next to the security pad, he reached for the activating timer. A minute should give him enough time to...

"Excuse me, sir," said a female voice directly in his ear. "You're not authorized to be in here."

The alien whirled in panic, pulling out his sidearm. The woman who had spoken was draped in a soft, feminine gown, and had some kind of fancy headdress in her hair. "How did you get in here?" he asked, taking aim at her.

"Non sequitur," Arachne replied. "The question presupposes that I have always been 'in here'."

Bankwoe was a pretty intelligent individual. "You're the computer?" he said.

"Correct," she confirmed, a little smugly, he thought.

"Then you're only a hologram or something," he said. "Shooting you wouldn't harm you at all, would it?"

"Correct," she repeated. "But nevertheless it would not be a good idea to fire that weapon in here."

The alien showed his shark teeth in a nasty smile. Backing away from her avatar around the center console, he said, "What if I just blasted apart your memory crystals? That would hurt you, wouldn't it?"

"I must repeat. It would not be a good idea to fire that weapon in here."

He took aim with his atom blaster at the main console, flicked off the safety, and pulled the trigger.

There was a click and a hiss. The handle of his weapon turned literally red hot, causing him to drop it as the flesh of his hand curdled and blistered. Arachne's avatar swooped upon him. Stumbling backwards, he fell over the catwalk railing and crashed to the deck below. He looked up into the business ends of three Starfleet issue phasers, held by three grim-faced Starfleet security officers.

"Security protocol Beta 2," Arachne explained pleasantly. "Unauthorized weapons found in sensitive areas of the ship will be scanned and disabled. In the case of your atom blaster, the only way to do that was by feeding the initiating pulse back into the triggering mechanism. I will notify Sickbay of your injury."

***

Turning left at the next intersection, Lenix followed a short, straight corridor to where it branched again, leading to the Port Phaser Control Room. He hoisted Amelia down from his shoulder and pushed her against the door. It refused to open! "Open it!" the alien snarled, grabbing her by the back of the neck as he reached into his satchel with the other hand. "What is this trick?"

"I don't know!" the terrified girl squeaked.

"The trick," said the security officer standing a few yards behind him, "is Security protocol Alpha 2. When an Intruder Alert is called by the Captain, all sensitive area doors open only after authorization." Caeli and the woman in the blue and black uniform stood right beside him, blocking Lenix' escape.

The Satarran briefly considered what to do. The officer in the gold and black uniform had a phaser pointed straight at him. His own atom blaster was holstered, no use to him. Using the female as a shield, he could still gain enough time to draw the concussion grenade from his satchel and plant it close enough to the phaser firing coil to do damage.

He grinned with his white shark's teeth...

Three things happened at once. The Starfleet officer took aim and fired. The stun beam struck him high on the biceps of his right arm, totally paralyzing that entire side. The girl he was holding slipped straight down through his nerveless grasp. The woman in the blue and black Sciences uniform pressed her comm badge and said, "Energize."

With a quiet hum, Lenix felt himself dematerialize in the transporter beam, and then reappear a moment later in a holding cell. He desperately reached for his atom blaster, but all of his accouterments had been diverted in transit, and had not materialized with him. He slammed his fists against the force field door in disgust at himself for his failure.

Ludmillia Rhyzkov spoke into her comm badge a second time and said, "Spasibo, Tovarish Vilenkin. You timed that to perfection."

[Mr. Atoz]

The Odysseus cleared the nebula and turned towards the alien ships, increasing speed to full impulse. Once the starship came into view, the Satarrans aborted their attack on the passenger liner. The ugly stiletto-like ships drew together into formation, each one a hundred meters from its neighbor as they streaked closer.

"Range is two thousand kilometers." Rosh commented. "The last time, they took a ranging shot at five hundred, but did not open fire in earnest until they got to fifty. Our weapons have a much longer range."

Atoz considered this. Should he keep out of range and pick them off? Against one opponent that might be a good tactic, but he had three, and they were fast. Plus, there was still the passenger liner to worry about. If it was the Odysseus they wanted, he had to keep them interested so they wouldn't go back to attack the unarmed ship.

Three ships, but if they maintained that tight formation, they could be considered a single firing platform for all practical purposes. What would happen when they got closer? He glanced over at Rosh to give his next order, noting as he did so the tactical display which showed the graphic representation of the Odysseus, half outlined with the part of her shields which were active. The active line covered the underside and rear of the ship. The ventral shields also covered the stern? That might be useful.

"Take aim at the ship on the left wing," Atoz said. "Keep me abreast of the range."

"Phasers locked. Range is now one thousand, one hundred."

"Fire."

The crimson beam lanced out into space, missing the ship they were aimed at but coming so close, the target veered wildly in panic. He nearly rammed the next one in formation, who also swerved and almost clipped the one to his immediate right.

"Seven hundred, six hundred..."

"Fire."

Again the phasers shot across the dark of space, this time scoring a direct hit. There was a flash on the aft of the little stiletto as one of its engine pylons sheered off and the ship tumbled out of control. The remaining two Satarrans scrambled back into formation and opened fire, but at extreme range, for them. "Several near misses," Rosh reported, "but no hits. Range is now two hundred."

Fawkes took a glance over his shoulder as if to ask the Captain if he wanted to change course to widen the range between them again. "Steady as she goes, Mr. Fawkes," Atoz said. "Right down their throats."

He could hear Fawkes draw in a breath as if he was about to speak. It was probably not a good idea to go in between two attacking vessels, because it would give them the chance to attack you from both sides at once. But this was one situation where the normal rules could take a flying leap.

"Cut impulse engines, Mr. Fawkes. Pitch positive one hundred and eighty degrees!"

The dark-skinned man executed the unorthodox order without hesitation. As the impulse engines ceased thrusting, the Odysseus reared upward and flipped completely over, continuing forward on momentum alone stern-first straight into the pair of Satarran vessels. Their midships' blossomed with rapid-fire particle beams, reaching out to strike and pattering harmlessly against the starship's fully powered ventral shields. "Fire as you bear, Mr. Rosh," Atoz said.

Satarran duo split apart as they streaked past, one going left and the other right, but the Odysseus was now behind them, pointed at their sterns. "Phasers locked. Firing."

The phaser beam struck the left hand ship, carving a furrow right up the center of its hull. The ship fell apart into a mass of wreckage.

"Engage engines, full speed," Atoz said. "Pursuit course."

The right hand vessel swung around as quickly as it could, but it wasn't nearly fast enough. Rosh locked phasers again and fired. The phaser sheered off its port engine pylon, but it managed to complete its turn and fire. At this range, its energy bolt missed, and Rosh's second phaser tore through its midships region, neatly cutting the ship in two.

"What do you have on sensors, Mr. Rosh?"

"Enemy ships disabled, Captain," he replied. "Correction. The first ship we fired upon was only damaged. It is now moving away on an intercept course with the Jamaica Bay."

"Some people never learn," Atoz sighed. "Run him down, Mr. Fawkes. Miss T'Pana, try to hail him. Tell him that if he really and truly wants to tick me off, I still have photon torpedoes I haven't even used yet."

***

Captain's log, Stardate 52862.4: We have been in contact with our sister ship, the Achilles, to take charge of our prisoners. Captain Gwen Demarco speculates that since the Satarrans couldn't hope to mount a sustained conflict with the Federation, their plan must have been based on the supposition that the capture of either or both of our ships would have embarrassed Starfleet enough to win over popular opinion. In that case, the Federation might have been willing to talk about lifting or at least modifying its sanctions. She may be right. Politics was never my strong suit.

Thanks to the ingenuity of Lt. Cmdr. Weir and Lt. Cmdr. Pierce, most of our memories have been restored to us, although they say it may be a few days before everything comes back. In meantime, we are holding the Federation Day Dance a little bit late, but better late than never.

"In the year 2161," Captain Atoz said, "the Federation Charter was adopted, to save future generations from the scourge of intra-galactic war, to reaffirm faith in the fundamental ideals of intelligent life-form rights, the dignity and worth of the intelligent life-form person, in the equality of male and female..."

The Captain's voice dwindled to a halt. He was reading from a padd, and to the crowd listening to him on the hangar deck (and throughout the ship by way of holovisual feeds), it seemed that he had lost his place. Then, with an air of resignation, they all saw him push the Clear button and toss the little instrument away over his shoulder. "I had written this big speech," he explained to them, "but suddenly I'm thinking why bother? What the Federation represents is diversity, and if we ever needed any lesson in what diversity means to us, we only need to remember what happened today. That is, assuming we can remember."

The Captain's jokes always got a laugh, or at least a polite snicker.

"Look around at yourselves. The crew of this starship represents fifteen separate Federation species and subspecies. We come from twenty five separate planets and colonies. I don't know how many different languages we speak among us. But when it came down to it, we forgot about all that. We pulled together, each of us doing what he or she does best. And we quite simply kicked the crap out of them."

Another dutiful titter from the audience, this one a little louder. Under cover of the noise, Vespis leaned slightly against Fawkes and brought her heel down on his big toe. "What was that for?" he whispered.

"That was for telling me to bugger off. You say that to me again, and I will personally fu--"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he interrupted, his face solemn as a judge. "Suddenly my mind is drawing a complete blank."

"Well," Atoz concluded, "having said all that, we deserve a party! End of speech!"

Amid the applause, a woman in a dark silk suit with yellow and blue chrysanthemums made her way towards the buffet table, followed by a man in a buff colored tunic. "Luke, you do not have to apologize," Kikuro was saying. "You had a choice between me or Ensign Penner. You went after Ensign Penner instead. I completely understand."

"What? Wait a second..." Caeli grabbed her elbow and spun her around. "Penner's like my little sister! I don't feel anything like this for her!" He pulled her into an embrace, his lips locked over her mouth.

"Oh," said Kikuro a few seconds later, a little flustered. "All right then. Good. But next time we meet on neutral territory. I have a lecture tour on Risa next month..."

The musicians had started playing one of those lively Indo-Asian songs from the popular musicals when Atoz walked up to Weir and asked her to dance. The Science Officer looked at the couples undulating rhythmically all around them and demurred, "Maybe I should wait for a slower one, sir."

"We'll pretend it is a slow one," he replied, taking her hand. "Captain's prerogative to be a little bit eccentric."

He pulled her into a classic waltz position, left hand holding her right, his right hand on her slim waist. She automatically rested her free hand lightly on his shoulder. As they began to dance, his body felt so warm and so solid against her. Because of the music, they had to hold their faces very close together if they wanted to talk. "Captain, I'd like to say that I--"

"Diane," he interrupted, "if you're about to apologize for anything you said or did today, I don't want to hear it. This has been a strange experience for all of us, but one good thing came out of it. It gave the two of us a chance to see what we would be like if things were different. If our positions didn't come between us."

"Yes, sir," she said, licking her lips. "And that's exactly what I wanted to--"

"As far as I'm concerned, that was an experience I'll treasure."

They looked deep into one another's eyes for a moment. Weir caught her breath. "I was trying to say exactly the same thing... Seven." And then, when no one was looking, she kissed him on the lips.

Well... almost no one. Ensign Penner, dancing with the cute security officer who had rescued her from the alien, watched them and smiled. "I still say they make a great couple," she said to nobody in particular.

>>>The End<<<

[Thallassa]

Oooh that was sweet! And don't think I didn't notice the Galaxy Quest reference!

[Mr. Atoz]

I was hoping you would!