Summary: In the spirit of fun and adventure I humbly extend a challenge to the many fine writers of Ad Astra: Write a story that is within the universe of Unsung Heroes. It’s a round robin event organized as an open series meaning that you can post your own stories to the series, the various stories adding together like the chapters of a book. Prequel, sequel, TNG mirror universe – the galaxy’s the limit!
The instructions are simple. Read Star Trek HQ first and then come up with your own story that plays within the same ‘virtual sandbox’. Some good ideas for additional stories might be: ‘What did Amy do next?’, or, ‘What happened to Doctor Dunmore when he returned to Starfleet Command?’
And what of our new enemy? Although little is known about him, his powers of creation and destruction are very real. Originating from an entirely new faction of the Borg, it appears that the collective has changed its views on the importance and role of the individual. Can this Borg Homunculus – this drone that is not a drone – spawn entire new cubes faster than Starfleet can scream retreat?
If you send an email to pengraff@telus.net and request The Unsung Heroes Technical Guide I’ll send you some important information on how the technology that tried to save Commander Worf worked. Your story does not need to use any of this technology – it’s available merely as technical backstory that you might find useful.
I hope it’s as much fun for you as it has been for me!
Categories: Next Generation
Characters: Ensemble Cast - TNG
Genre: Action/Adventure
Warnings: Character Death
Challenges: None
Series: Star Trek HQ : Episode 6 : Unsung Heroes
Chapters: 3
Completed: Yes
Word count: 19801
Read: 7473
Published: 28 Oct 2010
Updated: 05 Nov 2010
Story Notes:
Cadet Amy Crawford, completing her doctoral studies in the field of quantum optronic biology, reluctantly accepts a difficult assignment.
This story is dedicated to the many heroes of our time and the people behind their courageous deeds.
1. Act 1, Unsung Heroes by Samuel Pengraff
2. Act 2, part 1 by KayCee
3. Act 2, part 2 by Samuel Pengraff
Act 1, Unsung Heroes by Samuel Pengraff
Star Trek HQ
Episode Six â“ Unsung Heroes
PROLOGUE
âI am the Homunculus, Third leadership adjunct of Partition Two, Progenitor Unimatrix. I request asylum.â
There had been no time to analyze this Borgâs strange designation, at least not while he was executing the single most serious threat to earthâs existence in its history. And when the creature had suddenly broken out of an inescapable confinement field, there was no time to understand his twisted attempt at negotiation, either.
âAsylum?â thought Captain Jean-Luc Picard. âNever.â
But, in a sense, this drone that was not a drone; this individual that could seemingly conjure all manner of destruction from thin air, would have his request granted. He would be protected, but the cost to him would be very dear. Picard saw to that.
Imprisoned within a temporal stasis confinement module, the Homunculus had been condemned to a virtual nonexistence. Beneath a powerful neurogenic field he lay like a sleeping giant, all brain activity suppressed. But for Captain Jean Luc Picard, who had witnessed his bewildering escapes before, this was still not enough.
Ten identical copies of the confinement module were replicated. Called temporal stasis optronic modules, these copies were intended for the finest research laboratories in the Federation. Although not capable of storing fully realized bio-matter, Picard saw the optronic modules as ten more chances for something else to go wrong.
He didnât doubt that it was the best that his crew could do in the time they had, but Picard preferred that the passage of time within the optronic modules had been completely arrested, and not merely slowed to some indefinite minimum. But the captain had received his orders. Temporally arrested or not, the first optronic module was to be delivered to Starbase-39 Sierra post haste.
If only it were that easy.
In the desperate struggle to capture the Borg, Commander Worf had made a split second decision. He had executed a well-timed KoâThot, literally throwing himself at the drone, ensuring that both would plunge into a waiting capture field. The gamble had saved Earth, but condemned Worf to the same fate as the Borg: a prisoner of the confinement module.
Picard could only hope, especially for Worfâs sake, that the passage of time within all eleven modules had been sufficiently slowed. If not, then Worf, and the Homunculus, might awaken to a reality so far beyond their comprehension that insanity would be welcomed as a blessing.
Act 1
June 2nd, 2386, 9:00 am [Stardate: 63452.62]
Starbase 39-Sierra, Primary Holocomplex Facility
It wasnât that Starbase 39 was the biggest playpen in the galaxy. It was. What began as a few experimental holoemitters donated by Starfleet Academy years earlier had rapidly transformed the place into the most progressive holo research establishment in the quadrant. And the most eccentric.
With holoemitters in every corridor, classroom and dorm, it was not unusual for a freshman on an evening stroll to be greeted by a ghostly midnight targ stampede, or to enter a false-front turbolift that took him for a ringside view of the big bang, or to open the door of his quarters only to discover every cubic centimeter packed tight with tribbles.
No, it was that 39-Sierra was a distraction.
Besieged by four stacks of padds on her study table, Cadet Amy Crawford had assembled every paper on quantum optronic biology she could find. âMy thesis is here,â she thought, reviewing her collection, âall I need to do is chip away the pieces I donât need.â The last thing she wanted was for someone to disturb that process.
Amy had not recognized the older gentleman when he entered the study hall. She had looked up only briefly; his shoes having made an unusual squeak when he stopped to survey the room, but that look was all the invitation he needed.
Approaching the opposite side of her table, he extended a greeting that Amy acknowledged only with a cursory nod. âWhy didnât he pick any one of the, oh, I donât know, empty tables?â she thought indignantly, as she busied herself reclaiming her padds, sliding them back across the imaginary line that marked the center of the table.
Thatâs when she almost pasted the guy.
Removing a large padd from his bulging satchel he thoughtlessly placed it on the table completely inside of Amyâs half. Fuming, she calmed herself with the thought that, in a few minutes, she would simply pack up and move to a different table. This guy, whoever he was, took the cake â“ and the bakery it was baked in.
Leaning back to pass an idle moment, Amyâs eyes fell upon the wayward padd. It contained the seminal work on quantum optronic biology, the work that defined the field that was now her chosen specialty and, with any luck, the first chapter of her thesis paper. The Starbase library didnât have a copy, and perhaps for good reason.
âIsnât that Doctor Charles Dunmoreâs book on genitronic replication?â
The older gentleman, displaying a broad smile, looked genuinely pleased by the inquiry. âYou read upside down much better than I do.â
âThank you,â Amy replied. âIt comes in very handy during exams.â
âOnly if what youâre reading is correct,â he said, a wry expression advancing across his face.
The subtle smug attitude, the over-practiced humilityâŠAmy had the man pegged. âYouâre a professor, arenât you?â
âGuilty as charged,â he confessed.
âOkay, so heâs a professor,â thought Amy, âbut a rude one, and another good reason to find some privacy.â Standing up to gather her belongings, she couldnât help one final glance at his padd.
The professor picked up the padd, turned it around, and placed it into her hands, âI think youâll enjoy it better this way.â
Amy flashed a quick but insincere smile as she seized the padd, sat down, then charged through the first third of the book in less than an hour. The professor waited patiently, comfortably engaged in his own reading when Amy spontaneously voiced her strongly held opinion. âI admit the premise is intriguing but itâs sorely out of date now, and dead anyway thanks to Toby Russell,â pronounced Amy. âI have no idea why Starfleet continues to research it.â
âYouâre absolutely right; Doctor Russell was careless,â the professor admitted. âShe used it before it had been approved for use on actual patients.â
âBut how could it ever work on patients?â snapped Amy. âIt had inadequate quantum-level discrimination.â
âThereâs no reason why Heisenberg compensation couldnât be utilized when real bio-matter is being replicated,â the professor calmly suggested.
âI can think of a good one,â said Amy, handing the professorâs padd back to him, âit wouldnât work! With all due respect, the author should have spent more time on her quantum domain proofs.â
âWell, somebody completed the proofs, otherwise how did Doctor Russell heal her first patient?â asked the professor.
âIt was a freak event that could never be repeated,â Amy answered, ââŠeither that or Klingon biological redundancy.â
âBut how do we know Doctor Russell didnât use some form of enhanced Heisenberg compensation? She never published again in the field of genitronics, and her research was destroyed with her on Bilana III.â
Amy had the answer to that, too, but her chirping combadge grabbed her attention first. Ordered to report to high security hololab 8b immediately, she nodded a goodbye to the professor and stepped into the corridor as a friend called out to her from behind.
âAmy, wait up!â shouted Kaitlyn, racing to catch up. â8b?â
âYeah,â Amy said. âIâm betting itâs that practicum lab we signed up for â“ they must have found a volunteer.â
âOr a victim,â laughed Kaitlyn. âProbably some hang nail that could be cut off with a laser scalpel. By the way, how did you like talking to the father of quantum optronic biology?â
âWho? You mean that tweed jacket with the padds? You know who he is?â
âAmy, really, you must be kidding. That was Doctor Charles Dunmore.â
******
It wasnât light. It wasnât even consciousness.
It was pain.
Pain answered many questions.
******
Amy Crawford turned toward the entrance leading to hololab 8b then stopped dead in her tracks. She couldnât believe it. âDoctor Dunmore is our prof?â
Kaitlyn, only a step behind her, was equally surprised. âYeah, how did he beat us here?â
âI think my chances of passing this course just took an abrupt nosedive,â said Amy, wondering if she should bother to enter.
From the small raised platform at the front of the classroom Doctor Dunmore saw the two girls hovering at the entrance, and leaned into his microphone. âAh, our team leaders have arrived! Good. Ladies, please come in, we have a lot of material to cover...â
Amy and Kaitlyn looked at each other: âTeam leaders?â
Whether it was blatant curiosity or merely nothing better to do, the two girls found their legs carrying them inside the hololab. As they approached their lab bench they could see a yellow light flashing atop some type of storage module. Clearly, this was no hang nail.
âWelcome to the Practicum 724 briefing,â began Doctor Dunmore. âThe optronic module that you see on the bench before you was delivered by the USS Enterprise-HQ less than an hour ago. It contains three items of significance: one, Commander Worf of the Enterprise; two, some type of Borg super-drone capable of feats of destruction beyond imagination; and three, the best temporal stasis field that the crew of the Enterprise could hack together in the limited time that they had.â
Doctor Dunmore paused to examine his audience. He expected questions, but received instead a mixture of blank expressions and open-mouthed stares. He continued.
âOur Starbase engineers have confirmed that the moduleâs stasis field produces a temporal contraction of about four orders of magnitude compared to normal time. So, ten seconds of regular time equates to about one millisecond of time passage inside the module. This level of incomplete temporal contraction would be a serious problem if it were not for the neurogenic field that the Enterprise staff wisely added. Oh yes, the problem is further complicated by the fact that Commander Worf and the Borg are so tightly fused together no known imaging scanner can resolve one from the other.â
Still there were no questions.
âThe purpose of this practicum is to devise an algorithm that results in the safe separation and removal of Commander Worf in one millisecond of internal module time or less. It is believed that solutions taking longer than that would provide the Borg sufficient time to escape. The best solutions from across the Federation will be submitted to Starfleet Command and the best of these used on the original module. Are there any questions?â
Amy was bursting with them. âSir, isnât this slightly over my pay scale, or did I graduate when I wasnât looking?â
Doctor Dunmore laughed. âNot to disappoint you but our module is merely one of ten optronic duplicates, and has its safeties engaged. Believe me; youâre in no danger of earning money, not even as a team leader.â
The doctorâs reply did little to assuage Amyâs increasing apprehension.
âWith respect, Doctor Dunmore,â stated Amy flatly. âIt wonât work.â
âWhat wonât work?â
âThe whole plan; itâs flawed. Whoâs to say that the solution for an optronic module â“ if we can even find a solution â“ will work on the original module? Itâs an entirely different problem when fully-realized bio-matter is involved.â
âThatâs one for the scientists at Starfleet Command,â the professor replied. âWe all must do our part, Ms Crawford.â
âIâll bet thatâs what they told the bilge pumpers on the Titanic, too.â
âIâm surprised at you, Amy. A moment ago you were afraid of failure and now â“ what? Youâre too smart to even try? We have a saying where Iâm from, âYou have to get on one side of the bus or the other.â I suggest you pick one. Now.â
Amy looked intently at Doctor Dunmore, suspecting for the first time that there might actually more to him than his tweed jacket and a collection of antique padds.
âSo whatâs a team leader supposed to do anyway?â
******
He awoke for the third time â“ or was it the thirty-third?
He realized that he had lost his left arm in the previous match â“ but previous no longer made sense. It had all happened, was happening, would happen â“ all at once, all now. It was exquisite pandemonium, but somehow Worf gradually acquired some measure of control. It was like the time he and a very young Alexander played the amusement park holoprogram aboard the Enterprise. Watching the childrenâs carousel, Worf noticed that he could âstopâ Alexander as he sailed by, and without moving his head or his eyes. Thatâs how you did it; thatâs how you existed in this frozen time.
He thought of Jadzia and of her preferred weapon, the Batâleth. He could see her so clearly and hear her say again for the first time, âI prefer the longer reach,â when he was suddenly standing in the Great Hall of Qam-Chee â“ his beloved Lukara to his side â“ as Molor himself burst through the door, or was it the Pah-wraith? When Worf finally stopped his eyes the figure he saw was the Borg Homunculus.
The Borg attacked first, firing an energy weapon from an already extended arm. But the weapon failed because its concept failed â“ the Borg had waited to see if the discharge struck Worf and, here, in this bizarre place, that wait may as well have been an eternity. The Homunculus had not detected Worfâs Batâleth swinging from behind, with a force that would have easily felled a charging bull. His first indication of the surprise attack was the feeling of cold metal striking the back of his neck, followed by short glimpses of the rest of his body collapsing to the hard earth, his head spinning in the air, his prosthetic arms in the throes of death.
In this place where temporal paradoxes were the only thing that did make sense, Worf was adapting faster, better. The impression of a thought appeared in his mind â“ âthis Borg cannot even learn to duckâ â“ as Worfâs left arm was sliced off at the shoulder by a wildly flailing cutting tool mounted at the end of the Borgâs right arm.
Worf awoke, and began again.
******
Amy was getting tired. Tired of lab rats that wouldnât know a full dayâs work if it walked right up and phasered them; tired of a computer that required her to be present for each and every holotrial but, most of all, tired of Doctor Dunmoreâs impromptu visits.
âMs Crawford,â interrupted the professor for the fifth time that day, âare you planning to generate a duplicate of your quarters and sleep here, too?â
He still took the cake.
âYouâre just in time, professor,â Amy replied in mock enthusiasm. âIâm ready to challenge the course.â
âThatâs what â“ the third time today?â casually scoffed Dunmore. âHow about we do this one just for fun?â
âHave it your way,â conceded Amy as she activated her consoleâs voice interface. âComputer. Initialize.â
âAffirmative,â acknowledged the computer.
The command instantly emptied the holodeck, removing the aftermath of the previous trial and leaving in the center of the floor a single optronic module; itâs flashing yellow light advising caution.
âComputer,â directed Amy. âBegin genitronic algorithm 73a. Deactivate neurogenic field. On my mark; Holotrial begin.â
The contents of the module instantly appeared on the deck of the hololab. Both Worf and the Homunculus were standing, their bodies fused together, and for the tiniest moment the straining of the Borgâs servos could be heard. Then, like an oncoming wave, silence enveloped the holodeck; only a faint humming issuing from the walls of the force fields in which they were trapped. Amyâs algorithm began.
Gradually, and in slow motion, the contributions of every member of Amyâs team began to assert themselves. The Benzite graduateâs Phased Tunneling Beam began separating the two warriors faster and more accurately than ever before, allowing the Vulcan studentâs fractal-optimized imaging scanner to almost achieve a lock on Worf, that is, until the Borg started to move. Amy quickly confirmed that the neurogenic field was operating while keeping a finger suspended above the scrub button.
âThat bloody Borg,â Amy swore. âItâs like heâs getting smarter with every trial. He should not be able to move.â
âObviously he doesnât know heâs just a photonic bio-copy,â replied the Doctor.
Upon detecting motion within the moduleâs stasis fields the Bolian studentâs algorithm automatically activated, introducing random gravimetric distortions that disoriented the Borg, forcing him to devote nearly all of his time and energy simply to remaining upright. Amy couldnât believe it when the indicator lamp lit.
For the first time the imaging scanner had achieved a lock.
Amy held her breath. The computer awaited her confirmation of the dematerialization method, and she selected the only available option; genitronic enhanced bio-scanning. Activating the modified transport control, Amy smiled when Commander Worfâs image began to shimmer and disappear. When Worf started to rematerialize outside the force fields Amy could no longer contain her excitement, her voice erupting in a volley of cheers that was instantly returned by Doctor Dunmore. But their excitement, and their cheers, was premature.
In a clamor of noisy alerts and warnings Amyâs algorithm abruptly halted, the main computer reporting that the Borg had been exposed to more than one millisecond of accumulated time, the established maximum threshold. Amy had failed, again, and like after every previous failure felt no closer to a solution.
âDoctor Dunmore,â she pleaded. âThis canât be done in under a millisecond. I mean, isnât that number just an arbitrary figure protected by some overly healthy safety margin? Whatâs wrong with two milliseconds?â
âNothing, other than the fact itâs one millisecond too long.â
âIâm sure that Starfleet would prefer my solution over no solution at all.â
âAmy,â admonished Doctor Dunmore, âyour solution is no solution at all. You saw the Borg move. Besides, youâve got bigger things to worry about.â
Professor Dunmore reviewed Amyâs notes, hoping to find a way to accelerate her algorithm. What he discovered he didnât like.
âAmy, I see that your genitronic algorithm uses fuzzy logic and this lab explicitly calls for deterministic algorithms only. We donât want a solution that works only 99 percent of the time â“ it has to work all the time.â
âHow do you expect us to transport the quantum information present in Worfâs neural circuitry?â
âI suggest you start by looking at the function performed by Heisenberg compensators,â answered the professor, âor did you forget about them?â
âBut weâre not transporting fully realized bio-matter,â objected Amy. âHeisenbergâs principals donât apply!â
âI read your notes, Amy, so I know you know better than that. Itâs time to try something new,â he concluded.
Amy took it hard, trying to maintain her composure as she wiped away a tear she would never admit was there.
âProfessor,â she asked, her usual confidence visibly flagging. âIâm curious. Why did you choose me? After our meeting in the study hall I thought I would be the last person you would want in your class, let alone a team leader.â
âLook around you, Amy, look at what youâve done in such a short time. Your enthusiasm has spurred both teams to try harder than they could have ever imagined â“ Kaitlyn thinks itâs just a matter of time before you have this problem beat. She just wants to be there when it happens.â
âKaitlyn thinks that?â
âI think everyone does.â
The encouragement worked its way to a place inside Amy that she seldom visited. It restored her. âThank you.â
âYouâre welcome,â the Doctor acknowledged.
âBy the way,â said Amy, âI like your idea of replicating my quarters â“ maybe a little shut eye wouldnât be a bad idea, after all.â
âGive it a try,â suggested the Doctor with a smile as he walked towards the hololab exit, âand let me know what its like. Good night, Amy.â
âGood night,â Amy returned, âor good day â“ whatever. Thereâs just one more thing Iâve got to do.â
The exit closed behind Doctor Dunmore as Amy entered a message into her console: âHi Kaitlyn. I wanted to send you this file containing my results so far. It might be useful as a list of things not to try. Doctor Dunmore keeps telling me to think Heisenberg. Good luck, Amy.â
******
It was combat worthy of Stoâvoâkor â“ challenge on an alien battlefield, the conflict a matter of honor â“ a test of courage and endurance. But these were just words, and mere words did not exist inside the heart of a true warrior. For Worf there was no doubt, no questions â“ only a clarity of purpose achieved solely from battle. This battle.
It was enough for a Klingon to be Klingon. But, in this alien world that contained no when and no where, how could the spoils be shared, the victories celebrated and the tales told? Worf did not allow the thought to enter or even to become a thought, and so it became something else.
Another Batâleth came down with a force that shook the alien world, slicing the Borg Homunculus in two followed by another stroke that sliced each segment in half again before they landed upon the ground. Such skill â“ it could only beâŠ
âKahless!â shouted Worf to his companion, the combat beginning again. âIt is an honor to have you at my side in glorious battle.â
âWorf, your stories will be told,â shouted Kahless, âbut not in this place. Still, you must fight. It is a battle against evil, and worthy of a true Klingon.â
âBut what of Stoâvoâkor?â
âEvil grows from nothing and honor grows from its defeat. That is the nature of the Klingon; that is our reason.â
âBut what of Stoâvoâkor?â
âWe fight the same battle, Worf, you and I,â said Kahless, his image fading from view, âyour stories will be told.â
******
âMake the call, Kaitlyn,â insisted Ynden.
Kaitlynâs teammate, a brilliant Bajoran that had grown up on Earth, was the first to realize how to enhance a Heisenberg compensator to accept genitronically corrected data from a device he called a quantum phase discriminator. In truth, he was lucky, and it would take a team of Starfleet engineers over a week to root out the accident that had made his prototype work; an accident that would eventually lead to an entirely new class of Heisenberg compensator. But none of this mattered, not to Tor Ynden, and definitely not while he felt success was only seconds away.
âBut weâve tested our algorithm only three times,â Kaitlyn implored.
âYeah, and with exactly the same results,â answered Ynden. âI think the professor would want to know. Make the call, Kaitlyn.â
Kaitlyn tapped her combadge, restraining the sense of celebration growing within her. News like this was not just given away â“ not on 39-Sierra.
âDoctor Dunmore, its Kaitlyn calling from 8b.â
âHello Kaitlyn, howâs your team doing down there?â
âUh, good, sir. I think. Itâs kind of hard to describe.â
Doctor Dunmore was puzzled. He couldnât understand what kind of difficulty she might be having. âKaitlyn, just tell me what you see, one thing at a time.â
âOkay. The first thing I see is a very angry Klingon that is asking to speak with Captain Picard â“ what should I tell him?â
Over his combadge Doctor Dunmore overheard the laughter coming from Kaitlynâs entire team, but he wasnât quite ready to join in. âKaitlyn, listen to me, did the Borg do any damage?â
Not waiting for a reply, Doctor Dunmore began a hasty journey towards hololab 8b, keeping his combadge open along the way.
âNone, sir.â
âThen youâve done it, Kaitlyn, youâve done it! Tell Worf heâll be seeing his Captain soon. No, Iâve got a better idea...tell him that you and your team just passed Quantum optronic biology 724 with honors!â
But Kaitlyn wasnât finished. âThereâs another problem, sir.â
Perhaps this was not going to be as simple as he thought. âAnd whatâs that?â
âIâm not sure thereâs a delicate way to put this, professor.â
âKaitlyn, youâve found our first solution. You have my permission to put it indelicately.â
Kaitlyn replied in perfect deadpan. âWorf is holding the Borgâs head by his bio-tubing.â
âWell, we suspected there might be physical engagement, didnât we?â reminded the doctor.
âThis is more than that, sir; the Borgâs head is no longer connected to his body.â
Finally arriving at the entrance to hololab 8b, the Doctorâs shoes made a funny squeak in the corridor as he stopped. He entered a roomful of jubilant faces, his applause merging with theirs, and approached Kaitlyn with his congratulations. Now face to face with an impatient Commander Worf, Dunmore turned one more time towards Kaitlyn.
âIâm guessing here Kaitlyn, but I think your algorithm will be very popular at Starfleet Headquarters.â
******
Amy had decided last night that the extra five minute walk to her real quarters would improve the quality of her sleep. She was right â“ she awoke to a new world, but the chime at her door reminded her that the world, no matter how new, had its own agenda. She donned her housecoat and responded evenly, âEnter.â
Doctor Dunmore stepped inside, attempting a feeble smile.
âThereâs just no hiding from you, is there?â she joked.
âAmy, Kaitlyn presented me with our first complete solution less than 20 minutes ago. I wanted to stop by and personally thank you for all that you have done â“ her solution would not have been possible without the note you sent her last night.â
âHow did she do it?â asked Amy.
âShe used an approach very much like yours but added a phase discriminator to the compensator algorithm.â
âA Heisenberg compensator?â
âYes, but a brilliant new approach.â
Amy paused thoughtfully for a long time. âGood,â she replied sincerely.
âI also wanted to let you know Iâm bringing your original algorithm to Starfleet headquarters. I think your solution is ingenious and one that every researcher should see. Who knows, it may still make the top ten.â
âI donât know what to say, Doctor.â
âSay thanks, Amy. Iâm giving you and your team an âAâ â“ once I receive a copy of your thesis paper.â
âYouâll have itâŠand, thanks.â
âAmy, I would have really enjoyed having a nice farewell chat and the opportunity to let you to know how youâve made this old hologram very happy, but I have a meeting at Starfleet headquarters in five minutes and my holoprogram is scheduled for transmission at any second.â
âWait a minute,â Amy interrupted. âHologram?â
âIâm sorry, Amy. I thought you knew.â
âI honestly had no idea. You behaved soâŠnaturally.â
Amy was looking directly at the doctor when, as the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, he and his bulging satchel of padds instantly winked out, his holoprogram halting prior to its transmission. But the rapid exit of his program stimulated an idea in Amy, something that had been buried deep within her, and the idea hit her with such force she actually stumbled.
âWhat we need is an adaptive quantum phase discriminator,â Amy proclaimed to the empty room. âWhy we could derive Worfâs quantum state data in a fraction of the time. A millisecond? How about a microsecond, doctor?â
But the doctor was nowhere in sight.
âThis is the technology that Starfleet needs to free the real Worf,â she continued excitedly, while throwing on a shirt and slacks and charging for the corridor. âI hope that Kaitlyn is in 8b.â
Standing in the open doorway Amy paused briefly, finally seeing the past weekâs events as what they truly were â“ not failure, but necessary preparation. She knew that Charles would see it that way, too.
She gathered herself one last time and addressed her empty room.
âThanks, Charles.â
******
Author's Notes:
Following Commander Worf’s brave, last ditch effort to assure the Borg Homunculus would not threaten Earth, the doctoral student-cadets on Starbase 39-Sierra were given a difficult assignment – free Worf without allowing the most dangerous Borg yet to be encountered. In the first phase of that endeavor, the cadets proved themselves to be both brilliant and innovative. But the assignment didn’t end there for four of the cadets who “just…can’t…leave it alone.” This is the beginning of their story.
Star Trek HQ
Episode 6, Act 2 â“ Resurrection
by KayCee
June 21st, 2386, 5:05 am [Stardate: 63469.07]
Earth
After being âdropped offâ at the transport station in northern Arizona, Amy Crawford told the station master where she wanted to go and inquired about the shuttle service. âIs this the quickest way for me to get to my destination?â
The man behind the counter smiled and, as if offering a secret, whispered, âYeah, but itâs not the best way.â
Fascinated by his sales pitch, she allowed the old man to convince her that taking a slower public ground transport was the way to go. âItâs what I suggest for all the first-timers. Gotta see the Grand Canyon and Monument Valley â“ considered two of the top twenty greatest natural wonders of the galaxy, right up there with the crystal mountains of Tellar PrimeâŠWonât take yaâ that much longer taâ get there. The thing slows down when thereâs somethinâ spectacular taâ see, then it speeds up for the stuff yaâ can see on most any ole planet.â
Watching the landscape of her parentsâ home planet roll by, Amy finally appreciated what it must be like to be raised on Earth. Countless images and years of studying Terran history could not do justice to its natural beauty. But it was more than that. Few other places in the galaxy were as open and welcoming as this one, especially in the aftermath of the May 16 attack by the Borg on San Francisco and the Romulan First City.
A scar on the planet from the Florida peninsula to the northern most portion of South America could be seen clearly from spacedock â“ evidence of the target painted on Earth even before it became the hub of Federation activity more than two centuries ago. The people of Earth had not only come to terms with their role in the galactic community, they took a defiant pride in it. Instead of closing ranks and borders, Earth opened hers.
As the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest slowly passed out of view, the terrain became less dramatic and the transport speed increased. How she came to be on this hovertrain, instead of on 39-Sierra seized her thoughts.
The day Charles Dunmoreâs hologram vaporized in front of her was what some might call âfateâ or âkismet.â She called itâŠwell...Amy wasnât quite sure what to call it yet.
******
June 9th, 2386, 5:00 am [Stardate: 63436.18]
Starbase 39-Sierra, Primary Holocomplex Facitlity
With the single-minded determination of a Wanoni tracehound, Amy headed for the hololab, thinking, âKaitlynâs team will still be there.â
The simulated day begins early on any Starbase. For the last week on 39-Sierra the day had started much earlier; but the corridors were eerily empty - no targ stampedes, no Benzarian dawn crawlers, no other students. A high security area, this part of the facility was frequented by starbase personnel only with a specific assignment and in the wake of recent events, security was at a heightened level. Amy once overheard a security guard remark that this part of the base was âcreepy,â a term she had heard her Terran born father use. Amy wasnât born on Earth but could wield the vernacular; Elliott Crawford had armed his daughter with a catalogue of Earth colloquialisms.
Traversing the distance between her quarters and hololab 8b, Amy thought of her parents, cursing and blessing them at the same time. They had, after all, given their 19 year old daughter a choice â“ do her doctoral studies on Earth or 39-Sierra. Sheâd had other choices if she wanted to completely alienate them â“ but staying on Galor IV was not an option. So eight months ago, Amy Crawford chose Starbase 39-Sierra.
Upon reaching the lab, Amy found only a technician whose long frame was laid out on the floor, his head and arms wedged into the access port under the main console. Without moving his head from under the console panel, he deftly procured a tool from the pouch lying alongside his body, the long stretch of his arm revealing a ritual tattoo. It began between his index finger and thumb, traveled up the back of his hand, twisted all the way around and over his wrist joint, and disappeared under his sleeve. Some long ago learned factoid told her the tattoo most likely progressed all the way up to his shoulder.
Her mind preoccupied with the various sub-routines a new algorithm would demand, she ignored her first instinct â“ interrogating the technician about his purpose for being in a high security lab where she expected to find Kaitlyn and her team. Instead, she asked, impatiently, âExcuse me, there were cadets working in here earlier, do you know where they went?â
The headless body replied, âGone to breakfast, I would imagine.â
Letting out an audible groan, Amy thought, sarcastically, âOf course they have. Why would students hang around a lab?â
Lately, her classmates had developed an inexplicable herd mentality at mealtime. It was bad enough she had been pushed off Galor IV by her father to âexperience the galaxy beyond the stuffy academic atmosphere of the Daystrom Institute,â but she would be damned if she would ever get used to the cavalier atmosphere of this place.
Amy bolted for the door and made her way to the dining hall where she found Kaitlyn MacKenna sitting at a large round table engaging in a discussion with members of both now defunct teams.
âAh, the prodigal daughter returnsâŠHavenât seen you here in quite some time. In point of fact, I donât remember ever seeing you in here.â Kaitlynâs smiling face appearing both surprised and pleased.
âI went to 8b to find you.â
âWeâve been meeting here most mornings for the last week, but youâve been too absorbed to notice.â Her friendship with Amy was still being defined but had progressed far enough that Kaitlyn felt comfortable engaging in some gentle teasing.
Amy returned a hastily formulated smile that was gone as quickly. âI want to run something by you.â
âAnything. Besides, we owe you one. I take it youâve heard the good news?â Kaitlyn motioned for her to sit down in the one chair left empty at the table, almost as if it were saved for her. âHave a seat, Amy. Get some breakfast â“ weâre waiting for ours. I promise youâll never be satisfied with those grab-n-go meals after youâve tasted the new cuisine this mess has to offer.â
Without budging from the spot where she was standing, Amy crossed her arms over her chest. âSo youâve been telling me. I donât have timeâŠReplicated meals are sufficient for meâŠHow much better could it be? And â“ I donât have to stand in line for the replicator. Kait, can we talk about the project?â
âThere is no more project. MacKennaâs team finished the assignment and got the A,â declared Orlock, his nasal lobe imitating what in a human might be a furrowed brow. Orlockâs fellow students had come to accept this as his mischievous smile, a facial expression not natural to his species.
The others, especially Tor Ynden, appeared content to watch the interplay between Amy and Kaitlyn, likening them to two irresistible forces. Bjorn Gustavsen, one of the three other human students in the class, was fond of saying he had yet to meet any object that could remain immovable for very long in the face of a Crawford/MacKenna assault.
âYes, there is, until the problem is solved. And Doctor Dunmore informed me less than an hour ago that our team will be receiving an A as well.â Amy stood as if clad in battle armor.
TâHerel, the Vulcan student who had been on Amyâs team, interjected, âPerhaps I can clarify for Mr. Orlock. There is no more project - for us.â
Amy let out an exasperated breath, turned, and headed for the communications center to call Charles Dunmore.
Ignoring the breakfast that had just arrived, and the protests of her classmates, Kaitlyn excused herself and followed. Attention in the dining hall turned to the latest Federation news, the newly formed alliance with the Romulan Empire achieving equanimity with the Borg attacks.
As she exited the mess, Kaitlyn heard Bjorn say, âThese are the times that try menâs souls.[1]â It was an appropriate quote, but Bjorn had said it so matter-of-factly that Kaitlyn wondered why it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
No threat had ever reached so deeply into the galactic psyche as that of the Borg. Resistance was not futile, but it was costly.
******
When she entered the Comm. Center, Kaitlyn found Amy sitting in front of a viewscreen filled with the face of Doctor Charles Dunmore, stopping short when she heard their former professor say, âThe optronic module on 39 is scheduled to be destroyed in 36 hours.â
Gripping the edge of the desk with both hands, and only acknowledging Kaitlynâs presence with a quick glance, Amy pulled herself closer to the screen. âDoctor Dunmore, you canât. I think I have the answer...â
âI applaud your dedication but the assignment is completed. And the decision is not entirely up to me â“ this is a Starfleet project â“ Iâm a cog in the wheel. As much as we want to return Commander Worf to his family and friends, the ramifications go well beyond freeing him.â
âThen, I should think they would want to give some leeway to the team that came up with the first part of that solution,â Amy stated flatly, noting the contrast between the holographic Charles Dunmore and the stern looking man who was now staring at her through the viewscreen.
âAmy,â Dunmore said as he wearily ran his fingers through thinning hair, âOther promising solutions have also been submitted. Starfleet Science is encouraged by the algorithm formulated by Ms. MacKennaâs team â“ itâs a good start â“ but we all have orders and mine come directly from the Commander in Chief. Perhaps if the first pass of validations are complete before the 36 hours are upâŠâ
Amy and Kaitlyn looked at each other, the same unspoken thought between them. âPerhaps Starfleet had not been as receptive to a solution provided by mere doctoral students.â
Dunmore knew from the expression on Amyâs face he might just as well have slapped her. âIâve hardly scratched the surface of my holoprogram log from the last 12 hoursâŠbut, I am eager to hear what you could have come up with since my transmission terminated only two hours ago.â
Reenergized, and still leaning into the screen, Amy almost whispered, âAn adaptive quantum phase discriminator could separate Commander Worf from the Borg in microseconds, well within safe parametersâŠâ
Amy immediately launched into the details before she lost momentum. Kaitlyn moved closer. Without slowing even slightly in her explanation, Amy motioned for Kaitlyn to have a seat. As she lowered herself into the chair next to Amy, Kaitlyn nodded to Doctor Dunmoreâs image on the screen and then turned her attention back to her classmate.
Dunmore leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the arm, bobbling his head up and down as Amy completed her presentation, impressed less by her hypothesis and more by how fully it had coalesced in the young cadetâs mind.
He propped his elbow on the arm of his chair and rubbed his upper lip with his index finger. âIncremental adaptation... And I thought your first algorithm was ingeniousâŠâ
Dunmore reconciled his interest in Amyâs ideas with his ability to influence its development in the face of the time limit imposed by the CinC â“ Kaitlyn MacKenna contemplated the necessities of such an undertaking for two cadets, each with a thesis to complete and no influence whatsoever.
Finally Dunmore spoke. âHow soon can you provide a position paper? I will need that before I can sanction your continued access to the module.â
Amy closed her eyes and thought of the lab she would need to skip, the research time she would need to postpone, again, and answered, âHow soon do you need it?â
âBy 1300 Sierra time, I would sayâŠyou appear to have already written it in your head, Amy, so you should not have that much difficulty committing it to print. It might very well be the foundation of a bang-up thesisâŠThe crucial question you will need to answer is, âHow do you plan to produce an algorithm that works 100% of the time in 10âŠno, make that 9 days?ââ
âNine days?â Amy looked at Kaitlyn, both breaking into a smile at the same time.
âKeep in mind, even if I arrange for your access to the optronic module and the hololab, your time and efforts will be outside the scope of your curriculum, especially if you do not succeedâŠYou may lose time on your doctoral studies with little or no academic credit...â
Kaitlyn declared, âWe wonât know until we tryâŠWill we, Professor?â
âThen you most assuredly will reap something better than an educational reward â“ and this humble professorâs respect. I suggest you get started. I also suggest you get Cadet Tor on your team. The engineers are already all a twitter about his enhancement of the Heisenberg compensator. And make sure that outline has an emphasis on termination proof. And Amy â“ I want daily reports â“ in person.â
After the communication was severed, Amy chained herself to her workstation while Kaitlyn, self-appointed facilitator, began putting together the new team.
******
June 9th, 2386, [Stardate: 63436]
USS Enterprise HQ
Ten Forward bustled with the usual off-duty liaisons. Jean-Luc Picard sauntered up to the bar and took a sip of the liquid concoction that was waiting for him.
As he swirled the liquid in the glass, he took a sip and finally asked Guinan, âAre you sure about herâŠCan Cadet Crawford free Worf?â
âMy friend on 39 is sure. Heâs had a chance to observe her for several months.â
âDoctor Yannsen doesnât know much about your friend, but Doctor Dunmore seems to be quite taken with the man. Perhaps, I should ask if youâre sure about him.â
âI listen. He listens and observes.â Guinan spoke with the soothing voice that was her trademark. âHe sees people the way an artist envisions the finished painting before making the first brush stroke on the canvasâŠthe way a composer can hear an entire symphony before ever scoring the first note.â
âYes, but what if he is wrong?â
âHe was wrong once, but only because he didnât act on what he sawâŠand he paid a very high price for it.â
Guinan was not always easy to read but what Picard saw in her eyes at that moment he interpreted as deep sorrow.
******
June 9th, 2386, [Stardate: 63436]
Starbase 39-Sierra, Primary Holocomplex Facility
Armed with a presentation he deemed worthy of a thesis introduction and a recommendation by Jean-Luc Picard, Charles Dunmore convinced Starfleet Science and Nells Yannsen to keep the optronic module intact and on 39. Pitching the idea to the base hierarchy presented him with a more tedious task.
CinC Nechayev had made her position as clear as the purest crystal on Rigel V. The confinement module, which was being kept under the tightest security possible at Starfleet Nevada, needed his personal protection from forces dedicated to its destruction. There would be no Charles Dunmore holographic program to supervise the students â“ considering the student in charge he didnât think it was necessary. Nine other teams were working on the same problem. He simply could not stretch the resources at his disposal any thinner than they already were.
Lieutenant Commander Vostok, science officer for Starbase 39-Sierra, protested â“ the academic program on 39 did not have exclusivity, schedules would have to be amended, the module could not be moved to any other area, projects would need to be postponedâŠand conversion of nearly one third of the base to MuSpace research had already begun to consume her schedule.
The dean of the doctoral program, Gretchen Metzger, was all for extension of the project. She was proud of 39âs academic program and of the current class in particular.
Vostok finally relented in her opposition, but only with assurances that adequate security and supervision would be provided that would not put further stress on her staff.
When informing Amy and Kaitlynâs team they had been given the go-ahead, Security Chief Adam Quive promised he would be keeping a personal eye on the lot of them, citing the record of mischief for which the class of young intellectual hooligans had become infamous.
TâHerel, who would reprise her role by overseeing the fractal optimized imaging scanner, was quick to point out that it was insulting to be included in a group of perpetrators of freshman pranks. Kaitlyn had recruited TâHerel first because she was the least likely to cite concerns over study time as a reason for saying no â“ she never seemed to be behind in anything. One of the growing number of young Vulcans who saw their planetâs ambassador to the Federation not as half-Vulcan but as fresh air in a stagnant culture, TâHerel demonstrated a friendly nature and personal warmth that belied her species.
Sol Dro, the Bolian whose gravimetric disorientations of the Borg had enabled the first genitronic lock to be achieved, was Kaitlynâs second recruit. His concerns over adhering to decorum precluded any involvement in the prestidigitation of stampeding targ.
Regardless of Doctor Dunmoreâs suggestion, the team member Amy and Kaitlyn both considered a serendipitous coup was Tor Ynden. Although he believed his enhancement of the Heisenberg compensator was more a stroke of luck than a stroke of genius, Ynden said the security chiefâs comment served to reinforce his determination to be a part of the team. The Bajoran were accustomed, and occasionally proud, to be considered troublemakers.
Orlock abstained. He had already fallen behind on his carefully calculated schedule towards his doctorate and â“ without academic credit of some kind â“ he was not interested. Influenced by recent events, Orlockâs timetable had assumed new priorities.
As a replacement for the Benzite student, the sixth member of the team was unexpected. Kaitlyn had managed to sweet talk Bjorn Gustavsen into joining the group to replace Orlock in managing the phased tunneling beam. None of Bjornâs classmates ever believed he would make it as a theoretician â“ but at inverse quantum engineering, and stubbornness, he excelled.
Amy and Kaitlyn organized a carefully designed schedule for each member of the team to carry out over the next week. Their plan included working around each memberâs class schedule, labs, meals, and sleep cycles, time for biographical research on Commander Worf, and several contingency plans that fully utilized the nine days they would have to research, refine, proof, and test an algorithm that would produce the desired results 100% of the time.
******
June 12th, 2386, 6:15 pm [Stardate: 63445.91]
Starbase 39-Sierra, Hololab 8b
Holodecks have a way of being tomblike when not in full operation and 8b was no exception. The gridlines on the walls, ceiling, and floor were interrupted only by the optronic module in the middle of the space, its warning light always pulsating, oddly symbolic of the continuous struggle taking place within.
Sitting across from Amy at the business end of the hololab, Kaitlyn was barely aware of the module as she pulled the cover off the warmer tray and took in the intoxicating smell of the Argellian tuber soup, its steam tickling her nostrils. âAh, comfort food.â Looking up at Amy, she beamed, âIf you replicated this, I want the recipe.â
âI didnât,â Amy replied, as she peered at Kaitlyn over the spoon she had lifted to her lips.
Kaitlyn blew on the spoonful she had ceremoniously scooped up from her own bowl and exclaimed, âYou mean you actually ordered this from the mess?...Crivvens! Call the news service!â
âNoâŠI didnât.â
Kaitlynâs spoon plopped back down in her bowl, making a sound that bounced off the walls of the lab, and sent a splash of hot soup over the sides as she cast an incredulous stare at her dinner companion.
Amy coyly took another sip of soup and explained, âThe food was here, in the lab, when I arrived.â
Kaitlyn looked at the tray controls and noted they had been calibrated to keep the soup at the optimum temperature for twenty minutes. âAnnnddâŠyou donât know how they got here. Why do I get the feeling this is not the first time?â
âThe first time I was working very late in the study room and a yeoman brought in a tray of sticky buns. He couldnât tell me who sent them â“ the sugar kept me going for another three hours. That was last week. The last two nights, I found a full meal tray waiting outside my room, hot and delicious â“ same twenty minute setting. Considering your campaign to get me to eat non-replicated food, I thoughtâŠâ
âThat it was me?â
âWell, I didnât think it was Santa Claus.â
âAmy, I havenât had time to eat more than energy bars myself since we started on this mind boggling journey together, let alone make sure youâre eating wellâŠHot and delicious, huh? Is Amy beginning to understand that some things can be appreciated for more than their ability to keep the body functioning?â
Amy met her friendâs teasing with mock disapproval.
Kaitlyn, having too much fun, couldnât quit. âTwenty minutes, huh? Enough time for someone to make a clean getaway.â
Contemplating the implications in their own way, both cadets finished their soup in silence, and then returned to the task that brought them to the lab well after the rest of the student population had retired.
Elsewhere, Sol Dro, Bjorn Gustavsen, and Tor Ynden were putting in the necessary overtime in their own academic pursuits. TâHerel planned to join them in the lab after her nightly meditation.
In preparation for the first crucial test to be carried out the next day, Amy and Kaitlyn began to program their algorithm.
******
June 13th, 2386, 8:10 am [Stardate: 63447.50]
Starbase 39-Sierra, Primary Holocomplex Facility
After hearing Amyâs daily report, Dunmore was forced to give her the bad news about Starfleetâs tepid response to her teamâs progress. âIâm sorry Amy. I wish I had something more encouraging to tell you. It is your choice, but I will support the effort if you want to keep going.â
Unable to hide her disappointment, and completely unaware of the time limit or the machinations Dunmore would have to undertake to make it happen, Amy asked, âDo you believe we should?â
Dunmore answered in his authority figure voice, âI am not the one to answer that, Cadet Crawford. Your hypothesis has merit. Finish the first test, analyze the results. You will know if you should continue.â
Then he softened his tone. âCadet Torâs enhancement protocol is a huge hit. What originally was thought to require more than a week has been accomplished, with young Yndenâs help, in three daysâŠthat will work in our favor.â
âI canât stop until I find the answer. Thanks, Charles.â Amy started to end the communication, but stopped and asked, âCharles? Do you think there is any information about Doctor Russellâs work that was not destroyed on Bilana III?â
âI see you have decided to get on the side of the bus with the windows. Iâll see what I can find.â Charles Dunmore smiled from ear-to-ear and decided he would devise some way to keep the module, and Amyâs work, intact, even if it meant doing it under-the-table.
******
âFailure. Complete and utter failure!â Bjorn Gustavsen was done.
It was mid-morning of day four and repeated tests had not yielded the desired results. The first test confirmed the use of the adaptive quantum phase discriminator with a significant decrease in the time required to achieve lock before the Borg could move but ended with a scrambled version of the Klingon, a good part of his optronic bio-matter lost in the process. Subsequent tests yielded even more disastrous results.
The adaptive phase discriminator was phenomenally successful but the more they reduced the time to lock onto Worfâs signature, the more unstable Worfâs matrix became when rematerializing outside the field.
The news that Starfleet had rejected their algorithm was the death knell for the teamâs effort as far as Bjorn was concerned.
âWe allowed for initial failure in our schedule. It is a necessary part of the preparation process. We proved that in the first phase. What we need is the right set of failures. Five more days, thatâs all I ask. Thereâs something weâre missing â“ some element that is interfering with the discriminator, or the Heisenberg algorithms. We just have to go over the protocols again and again until we find it.â
Gustavsen would not relent. âWeâve broken it down a dozen timesâŠAmy, I canât put any more time into this.â
Bjorn turned to Kaitlyn and the others. âIf you have any sense of self preservation, youâll walk away from this exercise in futility too.â Then turning back to look Amy straight in the face he declared, âThe operation was a success but the patient died! Itâs a foolâs errand.â Amy thought it strange that the vehemence of his words was not reflected in his eyes.
However, Bjorn wasted no time leaving, taking his clichĂ©s with him. Three days hence would see him on his way to an outpost none of his classmates even knew existed. TâHerel, without a word of explanation, followed Bjorn out of the Comm. Center.
Sol Dro, so eager to please and, always, concerned about his deportment, struggled with the decision that now faced him.
Amy made it easy for him. âGo,â she said, âThereâs no reason for you to stay.â
Watching Sol Dro walking apologetically away, Amy collapsed into a chair and put her head in her hands. She thought back to the comment Dunmore had made about how everyone was looking for her to be the one to find the solution. She was glad he could not see her now.
Kaitlyn sat down across from her, letting a few moments pass before she said, âYou expect so much out of everyoneâŠNone of us can match your dedicationâŠbut we do keep trying. Amy, Bjorn was wrong â“ youâre no fool.â
Amy pulled her face out of her hands, her cheeks wet with tears. âNo, Kait, he was right. They all were. I canât leave it alone. For some reason, I justâŠcanâtâŠleave it alone. The rest of you shouldnât have to suffer for my obsession.â
Kaitlyn returned, quietly, âIâm on that bus to the end of the line and youâre not kickinâ me off.â
Ynden, having spent the past three days working with Starfleet engineers, had remained silent through Bjornâs tirade and the less dramatic exit of his other classmates. His only comment was a vow to see the project through. He left only to run an errand and promised to meet them both later.
Amy shook her head and looked out the view port of the Comm. Center. âIâm a little surprised at TâHerel, but I know the only reason Sol Dro and Bjorn agreed to help in the first place is because you talked them into it.â She stopped short of telling Kaitlyn why she believed Ynden had made his declaration of loyalty. âIf it wasnât for your powers of persuasion, we wouldnât have had a team at all. Why do you bother with me, Kait? I have little to no social skills and donât really aspire to acquire any.â
âTrue, you do a good job of imitating wall decor in most interactions requiring personality, but you have potential.â
âNo, I donât.â
âYes, you do. Besides, youâre the smart one. Iâm hoping some of it rubs off on me.â
âWhat are you talking about? Your team is the one who solved the first problem.â
âAfter you sent me a list of what not to try â“ and only then by accident.â
âThere are no accidents. You and Ynden recognized the truth, thatâs all.â
âSee what I mean. Now câmon. Before the Viking imploded, you promised to leave it alone for an hour. We donât want to be late for lunch. Itâs picnic day.â
âHow I let you talk me into skipping extra research time to go, of all things, on a picnic. Especially now, when we should beâŠâ
âYouâre decorating that wall again. And we need it now more than ever.â
Amy followed Kaitlyn, protesting under her breath as they made their way to the horticultural section.
******
The Arboretum was considered among the finest in the Federation. Sprawling an entire deck of the starbase, the landscape was complete with a meandering brook, patches of thicket, trees, and areas specifically designated for each ecosystemâs environmental requirements. Some specimens were holographic images but most were living plants â“ a functioning research facility with an intoxicatingly aesthetic appeal.
The head of horticultural and exo-agronomy research, Doctor Yoga Kapoor, was an old salt, having spent his life aboard one science vessel or another or one space station or another. A few months earlier, when his new assistant suggested that his showplace be made available for a monthly picnic, Doctor Kapoor happily obliged.
Sitting on a blanket next to Kaitlyn, Amy secretly appreciated the scents of the exotic flowers and the music playing softly in the background. Having visited the place several times when she first arrived on 39 and finding she could not sleep, she now frequented the gardens late at night when she needed to clear her mind and organize her thoughts. The music was different then, somehow more poignant. None of her classmates knew about her nighttime excursions to the Arboretum and she wanted to keep it that way.
The picnic experience was replete with a variety of manicured grasses, blankets, box lunches, and holo-projected picnic pests native to a variety of planets with similar cultural traditions. Groups of adults stood in light conversation; the soft sounds of children could be heard behind the thicket of kelgi-grass; and a tall young man with a tattoo on his left arm stood talking to a much older man under the whisper tree.
âKait,â Amy asked, âDo you have any idea who that is?â
âWho, Doctor Kapoor?â
âNo,â Amy replied, indignantly, âthe man heâs talking to.â
âHeâs the reason the dining hall in our half of the base is always so crowded. I heard someone call him Francisco.â
Amyâs face tightened. âHe was working on the phased tunneling beam emitter in 8b three days ago. What the hell was a cook doing in 8b tinkering with sensitive, and I might add classified, equipment?â
âHe is a chef, mâdear. You donât call someone who prepares meals the way he does a cook. Anyway, how could he be preparing breakfast and in the hololab at the same time?â
Amy gave Kaitlyn a sideways look, as if to say âAre you kidding?â âThis is 39-Sierra. Dunmore was a hologramâŠâ
âWait a minute, hold on there. Heâs a chef, Amy. Holographic techno-miracles aside, what would he be doing in 8b? I know youâve been working like a Cardassian vole with a death wish but I think you better back up and think this out.â
âI tell you, I saw him,â she nodded her head in the manâs direction, âin 8b, with his head stuck under the console of the emitter the day Dunmoreâs holoprogram shipped out. I went to the lab to find you â“ it was 0500 and you werenât there â“ but he was.â
Much to Kaitlynâs amusement, Amy watched the man with the tattoo as she nibbled menacingly at her sandwich. She was now positive of the markingâs origin â“ it was Gatherer. At one point, the man noticed her, meeting her glare with a benign smile and a courtly nod.
Amy quickly turned her attention back to Kaitlyn, who, over Amyâs protests, got up from the blanket and made her way to the whisper tree. She exchanged a few words with the man and then the two started in Amyâs direction.
Amy shot to her feet while simultaneously calculating the time of the approach of impending mortification in relation to the time it would take her to make the turbo lift. Stiffening her stance, Amy pushed down the panic and decided to confront him straight out about his presence in her lab.
âAmy, I would like you to meet Venkaldor, Doctor Kapoorâs assistant.â Kaitlyn tilted her head slightly and added, âcooking is apparently his hobby.â
The manâs eyes were Alexandrite violet and seemed to pierce straight through her.
âI am honored, Cadet Crawford. We have all been following your progress in the effort to free Commander Worf from his confinement with the Borg. It is a difficult task you and your team have taken on, but a noble one.â
Amy was not sure what to say; he had successfully parried her foil.
Venkaldor addressed Kaitlyn, âAnd I must congratulate you, Cadet MacKenna, on your teamâs initial success.â
Kaitlyn thanked him. Then to keep her friend from blurting out the question she knew was on Amyâs lips, she reminded her they had only planned to stay an hour. Making their apologies, Kaitlyn tugged Amy toward the exit and out of the Arboretum.
Half way back to the computer lab the team was using to run their proofs, Amy was still not sure what had just happened.
******
In spite of the banality Kait attached to this Venkaldor and his apparent innocuous behavior at the picnic, Amy still had doubts that prompted her to report his presence in a secure area to Doctor Metzger. Metzger subsequently referred her to Security Chief Quive.
âHe has clearance and was authorized to be in 8b on the date in question. Iâd say thatâs all you need to know. I suggest you keep your focus on that sacrosanct project your Doctor Dunmore shoved down our throats and leave the security concerns to meâŠAnd donât go bothering him either. The menu on this floating loony bin has improved 200% since he arrived.â
Quiveâs abrupt scolding still stung as she carefully reviewed her calculations for the umpteenth time. Her theory was sound, the protocols carefully designed, the algorithm well formulated, domain proofs solid â“ there had to be something she was missing, some element that was preventing the expected results. She kept revisiting the possibility of a poorly calibrated genitronic bio-scanner, which led her straight back to the technician she had encountered in hololab 8b on the morning of June 9.
Amy finally set aside her padd to access the stationâs main computer. She was looking for more than biographical data.
The search results left her with more questions than answers. Amy resolved to find and confront the strange man who worked as an assistant in the horticulture department, moonlighted as a technician, cooked for an adoring throng, and sported a Gatherer tattoo that she now knew stood for traitor.
âComputer, locate personnel â“ identity Ven-Kal-Dor.â
The computer answered, âSecurity authorization required, state your authorization code.â
Grabbing a tricorder, Amy didnât wait for the computer to tell her she wasnât authorized and headed for the only place she knew to start.
******
Standing toe to toe with Lieutenant Commander Vostok, 15 years his junior and towering over him by at least six inches, Adam Quive was beginning to regret facilitating his old friendâs presence on 39.
âI donât trust him. The man is an enigma wrapped in a conundrum which is locked in a closet,â she warned â“ again.
âI told you before, he just wants to do his work and be left alone.â Quive fired back, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than Vostok.
âThen why isnât he on some piss-ant research facility somewhere instead of one of the highest profile facilities in the Federation?â
If Adam had an answer for that, he wouldnât have shared it with her.
******
The aroma in the dining hall was inviting, even to Amyâs staunch resistance. Making her way to the galley, Amy passed starbase personnel she had never seen before in her eight months on 39.
Inquiries of the galley staff yielded no results. As the galley chief put it, âI donât have the Francisco watch.â
Chastising herself for such childish curiosity, Amy thought, âThis is ridiculous, â and headed for the hololab. She was due to meet Kaitlyn there in less than fifteen minutes anyway. After keying her entry code, she was surprised to see the object of her quest standing in front of the optronic module with two stacked warmer trays in his grip, his gaze fixed on the flashing yellow light.
âDoctor Ven-Kal-Dor.â
The man appeared to have a stunned, hand-in-the-cookie-jar expression, but recovered quickly. He smiled and set the trays down on the bench. âMy friends call me Francisco.â
Ignoring the implication this strange man wanted her to be his friend and avoiding direct eye contact, she crossed her arms and stated, curtly, âThere is not much in the database about the culture or inhabitants of Tau Ceti Prime, but Iâm pretty sure that isnât your given name.â
âNo, my name is Ven, of the high mountains, first born to the house of Kal, during the first rising of the moon Dor, in the year of the UkalaâŠ.There is more, do you wish me to go on?â
âNo.â Amy couldnât help smiling in spite of herself. She was suddenly disarmed again and had no idea why. âHow did you manage to come by the name Francisco? It sounds like something very old world Earth to me.â
âMy grandmother.â
âYour grandmotherâs name was Francisco?â
Now it was his turn to smile. âFrancisco is a character from a 20th century Earth novelâŠ.She thought it appropriate because of my propensity for taking odd jobs to learn from those who actually do the work.â
âIs that how you learned to cook?â
âYes.â
âStill, one wonders why someone with three doctorates, in three separate and diverse disciplines, spends his time cooking for cadets.â Amy recalled the results of her biographical search â“ horticulture, philosophy, and quantum mechanics.
The manâs youthful appearance contradicted the years of experience he must have, her research failing to establish his birth date. The biographical information in the base computerâs meager dossier was mostly professional and that was limited; little personal information seemed to be available.
âI enjoy cooking. You believe it beneath me?â
âNo, I believe it a waste.â
âOf time?â
âOf talent.â
âWhether it be food or quantum mechanics, Ms. Crawford, I am still a cook.â
âWhat were you doing in this lab four days ago?â
âI had permission to be here.â
âIs evasion part of your repertoire of skills?â
âI was checking the calibration of the holoemitter. I do have clearanceâŠbut you already knew that...are you testing my honesty now?â
Amy decided she was the one in charge of this inquisition. She ignored the question and concentrated on his impressive credentials. âAnd, was the calibration out of spec?â
âThere is nothing amiss with the calibration of the holographic projectors â“ or the bio-scanner.â
âWhy were you checking them in the first place? Youâre not assigned to this lab as a technician. That much I was able to find out.â
âDoctor Dunmore asked me to verify the empirical data was not the result ofâŠcalibration anomaliesâŠas opposed to the veracity of Cadet MacKennaâs algorithm itself.â
âI see. At least thatâs plausible.â
âIâm afraid the implication of that fact is: There is nothing wrong with the hardware.â
That hurt, and Amy felt it run through her whole being.
âI only tell you this so you can stop looking in the wrong place for your answersâŠa courtesy you extended to Cadet MacKenna.â
Amyâs discomfort was apparent as she chastised herself for placing the blame for her failure on faulty calibrations.
âMs. Crawford, with the departure of three members of your team, you will need someone to fill the gap. I am not a theoretician, but I know my way around holodeck technology and could easily handle the functions of Cadets TâHerel and Gustavsen. As you know, Cadet Sol Droâs gravimetric disorientations are unnecessary now that your adaptation has reduced the separation rime to microseconds. I would like to volunteer my services.â
Amyâs look of baffled surprise must have prompted what he said next.
âI can easily arrange it with Doctor Kapoor and I am qualified. Iâm sure Doctor Dunmore will provide a reference.â
âAnd you can bet I will ask him for one.â Amy congratulated herself for developing at least a tacit immunity to his charm.
âI have no doubt of that. In fact, I would be quite disappointed if you were to accept me under any other conditionsâŠnow, if you will excuse me, I am scheduled to give a cooking lesson at 1600 hours.â
As Francisco passed her on his way out of the lab, Amy scanned him with her tricorder. He shot her that disarming smile again and confirmed, âI assure you â“ I am real.â
âJust checking,â she remarked under her breath.
Amy reviewed the tricorder readings and wondered how she could still be surprised. The man walking away from her down the corridor was definitely Tau Cetan; but somewhere in his recent ancestry there was at least one Human and one El-Aurian.
Along with that discovery Amy remembered that she had not asked him why he was seeing to her nutritional needs. She decided Kaitlyn would derive no real benefit from knowing who had facilitated their meal.
******
June 14th, 2386, 5:30 am [Stardate: 63449.94]
Starbase 39-Sierra
âI most certainly do approve, Amy. He will be an asset to your team.â
âCharles, how do you know Doctor Ven-Kal-Dor? Or perhaps I should ask how well do you know him?â
âWe were students together at university. Heâs a few years younger than meâŠvery bright, as if he absorbs knowledge through his skin. But Iâm sure youâre more interested in finding out whether or not he can be trusted. Considering the current circumstances, I donât blame you.â
âHe is quite the riddle.â
Charles could not hold back a wry chuckle. âBesides that, heâs headstrong, stubborn, unpredictableâŠand, occasionally, heartbreakingly disappointing â“ something I have come to understand, over the years, has been a failing more on my part than his.â Dunmore sighed wearily. âTrust is a deeply personal thing, and we all have to, finally, trust our own instincts.â
Amy hesitated before she asked, âAnd the tattoo?â
âMy dear, Iâm afraid thatâs something only he can answer.â
******
Day Five was rescheduled for team review, re-proof, and computer simulations. Before Amy could get completely into the room, Kaitlyn pulled her aside.
âAmy, what do we know about him? I did some research. Do you know what the markings on his arm mean?â
âYes, I know what they mean...â Amy resisted the temptation to say, âI know a little about research myself.â Instead, she lectured, âHe had the same markings yesterday. They didnât seem to bother you then.â
Kaitlyn, who was willing to accept the man as Francisco the chef, and even Ven-Kal-Dor the agronomist, was hesitant to accept him as an integral part of their team. âHe bothered you yesterday, how has that suddenly changed? Look, I understand your curiosity, and he isâŠwell, intriguingâŠbut this seems more like a dangerous distraction.â
âKait, if he was dangerous, do you think he would have security clearance for hololab 8b, especially considering the level of security this base is under now?â
âI guess if he can pass the Quive litmus test he must not be any kind of security concern, but thereâs just something about himâŠmaybe heâs some sort of Federation spookâŠâ
âNow whoâs letting their imagination run away with them? Kait, we have less than five days. If weâre going to see this through to the end, we donât have a lot of optionsâŠand he does have the Dunmore seal of approval.â
âI knowâŠbut Iâm still not comfortable.â Kaitlyn said, admitting to herself a little jealousy because of her friendâs ready acceptance of the man; it had taken her months to win Amyâs confidence.
It was at that point that TâHerel made her entrance, much to everyoneâs surprise â“ except Tor Ynden. As she took her place at the table, all she said was, âI could not persuade Cadet Gustavsen to alter his position.â She shifted her focus to Ynden, as if handing off the conclusion of the announcement to him.
âI had a long talk with Sol Dro. Heâs not coming back â“ he has responsibilities beyond his own studies that make it impossible for him to continue with the project. He regrets that he wonât be able to share in our success and hopes we will understand.â
When the meeting commenced, Kaitlynâs concern over Ven-Kal-Dor was eclipsed by the camaraderie that had suddenly converted a group of doctoral students working on a class project into the truest definition of a team with a shared purpose. That cohesion, even though strained to the limit at times, would serve them all well in the days, months, and years to come.
Having anticipated that bringing a new team member up to speed would consume most of their time, Kaitlyn, Ynden, and TâHerel were impressed with what Ven-Kal-Dor already knew about the changes to the original protocols, their schedules, and the precise nature of their failure the previous day. Near the end of the meeting, he had at least won their professional respect with the questions he posed and his understanding of the theoretical process.
When the protocols for the genitronic signature recognition were being examined, Ven-Kal-Dor posed a query. âWhat would the value be of knowing the original species of the Borg?â
The question was met with squint-eyed scrutiny. âI donât know that the thought ever occurred to us,â Ynden ventured. He looked around for confirmation of that fact. Receiving it, he continued, âBio-scanners can do just so much. It appears to have been Human. Living bio-matter would have to be examined and analyzed to know. That would require this particular specimen to be free of his confinementâŠsomething we are all trying very hard to prevent.â
âYes, I understand that, and I agree that it is essential the Borg remain confined for the moment. But if you did know what species this Homunculus was, before he was assimilated, or had at least a few DNA markers to program, would that not be a benefit to achieving an accurate lock on Commander Worf?â
The other four team members looked at each other, contemplating the possibilities.
Kaitlyn speculated, âWe could request the confinement module be scanned for data on the Borg. That might add to our knowledge about him. But that would require releasing himâŠsomething I doubt Starfleet Science is willing to do, even for the microsecond we would needâŠand it would still not give us genetic markers.â
âIâm just asking if you thought it would be of any help.â Doctor Ven-Kal-Dorâs voice carried a tinge of frustration.
Kaitlyn, watching Amy for a reaction said, âIf we had even a few genetic markers, it could give us an edge in separating the two and increase the accuracy of the lock.â
Amy shook her head to indicate the negative, âBut it would also vastly increase the time necessary to achieve the lock. Iâm afraid that would just put us back where we started.â
At first, it was difficult for the others to fathom why Ynden suddenly deviated from scientific conjecture or where he was headed with his next comment.
âDoctor, Amy tells us you are part El-Aurian.â Ynden leaned back in the chair awaiting Ven-Kal-Dorâs reaction.
âMy grandfather is El-Aurian.â
âThen, you have a vested interest in this project. The Borg assimilated all but a few of your ancestors.â
Before responding to what was clearly a challenge, Ven-Kal-Dor took the few seconds he needed to decide how far down this path he would allow Cadet Tor to venture unchecked.
Finally, he said, cautiously, âThere are not enough El-Aurians left in the galaxy to fill a lecture hall on this starbase. But do we not all have a vested interest in the struggle against the Borg?â
Ynden ignored Ven-Kal-Dorâs attempts to redirect his line of questioning. âWhat makes you think the Borg fused to Commander Worf is El-Aurian?â
The rest of the group no longer wondered about Yndenâs purpose as they watched him square off with Ven-Kal-Dor, without animosity, but like a debater in mind-to-mind combat.
Familiar with Yndenâs intellect and deductive reasoning skills, Ven-Kal-Dor was neither surprised nor offended by the question. âThat, my young friend, would be difficult to explain, even if I was inclined to do so.â
Amy broke the acute tension by requesting a last run-through of the algorithm to be sure they were all in agreement. Then, a debate ensued over Amyâs insistence that they could only prove the efficacy of their solution through consistent failure.
Amy knew she would get the most cooperation if their incentive was to prove her wrong. Ven-Kal-Dor wisely abstained, understanding that his vote, even though it carried little weight, might influence the others negatively if he sided with Amy.
Agreement was finally reached: Three failures, at three separate time increments with precisely the same feedback would prove what Amy had maintained originally, that the algorithm would only work if applied to fully realized bio-matter.
Tired and overextended, the team had had enough of one another for today.
******
Act 2, part 2 by Samuel Pengraff
In spite of her admonition that her teammates get a good nightâs sleep, Amy could not. When no amount of relaxation exercise or self administered psychology worked, Amy gravitated to the only place she seemed to be able to find sanctuary of late.
One of the reasons she liked frequenting the Arboretum at night was the music. She had spent time in most of the ecosystems and enjoyed most of the sounds, but she favored the area for Earth plants, for there she could occasionally be treated to piano sonatas.
Plant reaction to harmonics was Biology 101 â“ it was accepted universally that plants, as do sentient beings, react positively to the harmonic arrangement and frequencies of sound. Tonight, the soft tones of a chamber ensemble filled the area.
She concentrated on the crystilia blossoms just within the perimeter of the area programmed with an acidic environment. The fragrance caught her attention, as usual. The crystilia apparently reacted well to the melody emanating from the oxygen/nitrogen zone, their stalks leaning a few degrees in that direction.
The awareness of another presence washed over her and she instinctively turned around to find Ven-Kal-Dor standing behind her.
âIâm sorry if I startled you.â he said, appearing more as if he was the one who had been surprised. How could she have known that, although this was not the first time he had seen her in the Arboretum in the late night or early morning hours, it was the first time he had found himself unable to resist approaching her?
âYou didnât startle me.â She was telling at least half the truth.
âThen, I apologize for disturbing you.â
âYou belong here, Iâm afraid I am the intruder.â She made a move to turn and leave when his voice stopped her.
âThe Arboretum is open to all, at any time, day or night. Please stay. I was on my way to the culture lab. I work at night, while it is quiet. It allows me time to assist Doctor Kapoor and work on my own projects as well.â
âWhen do you sleep?â
âI sleep when I am tired.â
âAnd what are you working on at the moment, Doctor?â
âI asked you to call me Francisco.â
âNo, you said your friends call you Francisco.â
âWe are not friends?â His expression appeared to be genuine disappointment.
âI suppose we could be, if I knew more about you.â Amy thought, âPerhaps this man thinks no one is immune to his charming ways and his penetrating eyes.â
âYou still havenât said what your current project isâŠor is that a secret?â
âIâŠhave many interests. I like to keep busy.â
Understanding Amy would persist, he elaborated, âMy particular field of study is the application of optronic biology to molecular farmingâŠDoctor Kapoor is an accepted expert in the field of exo-agronomy; I was quite fortunate to be allowed to work with him. Currently, I am working on the mass propagation of a triticale type grain indigenous to Tau Ceti III.â
âI see. Is that before or after you give cooking lessons and perform diagnostics on sensitive holographic equipment?â
Francisco smiled. âI have visited your playground, would you like to see mine?â
Francisco motioned for Amy to move toward the other end of the grassy walk and led her to the culture lab. As they made their way, the music changed to a soothing arrangement for piano accompanied by an airy flute.
At one end of the lab was a sterile chamber with in-vitro cultures. Most of the living vegetation in mini ecosystem chambers looked mundane, nothing approaching the exotic quality of the plants on display in the Arboretum. Amy was pleased to find the music inside the culture lab was the same as that in the Earth zone of the Arboretum.
Amy asked, âDo you select the music?â
âDoctor Kapoor has a carefully scheduled set of frequencies he uses for the various eco systemsâŠI suspect he relies as much on his own ancestry as he does his scientific educationâŠone of the reasons this facility is so highly regarded and allowed so much space on this base. He indulges me, within limits.â
âDid you make this selection?â
âYes. The arrangement maintains the right balance of frequencies to have a positive influence on the plants in the majority in the eco systems we maintain in the Arboretum. It is one of my grandfatherâs favorites â“ and mine. There was always music in the house. But Grandfather is particularly fond of arrangements that feature piano and flute.â Francisco smiled, nostalgically. âAllieâŠGrandmotherâŠused to tease him by saying that he actually fell in love with her piano and only married her because she was attached to it.â
Unable to hold back a smile, but still telling herself she could maintain an impersonal distance, Amy tried to turn her attention elsewhere, settling it on a chamber containing desiccated and shriveled plants that appeared to have died.
She wondered if the environmental controls had failed or if a stasis field had been corrupted. Next to it, in an identical chamber was a small clump of fern, rich green and attached to the same kind of barky medium.
âThat is the same reaction we get from the kindergartners.â
Had the remark been made by anyone else, Amy would have mounted an indignant protest. But there was not a trace of derision in the way he said it.
Amy remarked, remembering something from her early studies, âThey seemâŠfamiliar.â
He pointed to the chamber with the lush green fern sample. âIsolation of the dehydrin gene of Pleopeltis polypodiodes was the first breakthrough in the science of terra-forming...you may be remembering it from your elementary biology. This is the plant in its hydrated state. A common variety of fern that grows in particular eco-systems on Earth, both the same plant, except this one,â he pointed again to the dead looking plant, âis a holo-projection programmed at an accelerated rate of changeâŠI constructed this chamber for Doctor Kapoor to use as an educational toolâŠThus demonstrating that I do not waste all my talents.â
Amyâs expression relayed a silent touchĂ©.
âThis plant can lose 97% of its moisture content and survive. All it needs is the slightest rain shower to bring it back to lifeâŠComputer, activate program DH235.â
Amy watched as a mist filled the chamber and as the fronds of the little fern began to unfurl and assume their rich green color, like the living plant in the first chamber.
In spite of her earlier reaction to the dead looking plant, the process of plant re-hydration paled next to the monumental task of de-fusing a Klingon from a Borg. Amyâs fascination was more with Francisco than with the transmutation occurring in the bell jar.
âSome plants have been known to survive more than 100 years in their desiccated state without a water sourceâŠthe first time I saw the transformation in the plantâs real-life environment, I was captivated, especially when I learned of its history and the mystique that surrounded it for centuries before it earned its place in the annals of science. I was newly arrived on Earth and it was the fifth cycle of my first awarenessâŠ.I was nine.â
Although Amy couldnât imagine how much mystique could be attached to a common plant, it was hardly a stretch for her to remember the magic of being nine.
âIn the deeply religious past of the area where I grew up, it was revered and highly prized. To have it propagate in oneâs live oak trees gave a landowner additional prominence. Itâs known as resurrection fern.â
Francisco captured Amyâs eyes as he spoke, and this time she did not try to avoid them. âThe rain does for this little fern what your algorithm will do for Worf...â The simulation in the chamber had taken the fern back to its dead like state. âI know some of what it must be like for him to be in that kind of limbo...â Franciscoâs voice trailed off.
In the labâs ambient light Franciscoâs blue-violet eyes had changed to a rose amethyst and they held Amyâs brown eyes for what seemed to her too long, and yet, not long enough.
His voice assumed an intensity, even in its low timbre, that rivaled that of his hold on Amyâs eyes. âThe time is almost up. The confinement module may be destroyed if a solution cannot be found in the next 72 hours. Commander Worf will cease to exist even in temporal stasis.â
âDo you know Commander Worf?â she asked.
âWe have never met. But I know the circumstances of how he came to be trapped in stasis with the Borg.â
âHe sacrificed himself. It was brave and noble,â Amy said softly, still suspended within a force field that seemed to be constantly changing colors.
âNoble, yes â“ but not because it was a sacrifice. Amy, there is no nobility, no honor, in sacrifice. And from all accounts, Worf is an honorable Klingon...The rest of the galaxy cannot go the way of El-Auria or the thousands of other worlds whose names and histories we will never know. I understand his determination to do whatever was necessary to stop it, even in the split-second he had to make the decision.â
Francisco reached up with his left arm to deactivate the light overhead, exposing much of its markings. As curious as she was, she did not ask the question, admitting to herself that she might not want to know.
Francisco answered the question in her eyes. âIt reminds me that I should always trust my instincts.â When he brought his arm down, his hand found Amyâs resting atop the eco-chamber. She felt an energy surge through her that made her inhale a short, silent gasp.
When he slowly withdrew his hand, âItâs getting late,â was all he could manage.
As if an iridescent film surrounding them disintegrated, Amy recovered what she could of her own resolve. âYouâre right. You may only need occasional sleep, but I will be worth zilch if I donât go back to my quarters and try to put in a few hours of rem.â
âAnd I still have cultures to attend.â
As the music changed to a violin concerto, Amy said, reluctantly, âWell, goodnight then.â For a reason she resisted naming, she did not want to leave and dared not stay.
******
June 15th, 2386, [Stardate: 63452.62]
Starbase 39-Sierra
5:00 am
The second movement of QâBlethâs first symphony Amy had programmed into her alarm only four hours before awakened her to a clarity she had not been aware she was capable of.
She vividly saw every step of a new algorithm and its natural conclusion beginning with the spin of the smallest quantum particle and ending in a fully materialized Commander Worf standing in front of her.
Silently, she made him a promise.
Amy Crawford knew what she had to do:
1. Call Kaitlyn
2. Call Ven-Kal-Dor
3. Call Charles
The first two tasks were accomplished before the third bell of the morning watch.
******
6:45 am
âYou wanted to see me, Adam?â
Francisco stood in front of the desk, a padd in his hand, staring at Adam Quiveâs back. The man he was glad to still call friend was installed like a statue in front of the large view port, legs astride and arms crossed. Francisco knew that stance. It meant the Security Chief was mounting an offensive. He awaited the un-named inevitable.
Quive did not make him wait long. âWhat do you think youâre doing?â
âIâm not sure what you mean?â
Adam turned to look Francisco in the eye. âI mean â“ What are you doing with the Crawford kid?â
âI amâŠsupervising.â
âYou were supposed to maintain a distance and observe. What happened?â
âThere was a need for me to join the team.â
âYou might tell yourself that, Frisco, but Iâve known you too long â“ emphasis on the long. Youâre three times her age, and before you give me a lecture on the comparison between Human metabolism and Tau Cetan, I mean youâve already been around the galaxy more times than sheâs likely to be in her entire lifetime.â
âIf youâre implying there is anything untoward about my relationship with Cadet Crawford, youâre wrong. I appreciate her scientific prowess and her zeal. That is all.â
âYeah, well just be sure you donât put any blemishes on that zeal of hers. There are only three reasons you were allowed to supervise this project: one, Vostokâs resources are already strained beyond their limit; two, Dunmore suggested it and Gretchen Metzger thinks Dunmore walks on water; and three, I vouched for you. I can just as easily un-vouch â“ and you, old friend, will be back to watering the plants.â
âPlease, Adam, donât do that. They are close to a solution, I can feel it. Itâs important I remain with the project.â
âI fail to see what difference a change in babysitters will make. I sanctioned you supervising those youngsters because I thought it would be good for you to get back into something that offered more of a challenge â“ and because you promised you would keep a low profile. I donât call midnight strolls in the garden and leaving love notes in the form of food trays low profile.â
Watching the color drain from Franciscoâs face, Quive twisted the virtual knife he had just thrust into his friendâs sternum, âDo you think anything of any importance happens on this station that I donât know about?â
âI give you my word, on whatever friendship thatâs left between us. There is nothing more between Ms. Crawford and myself than a mutual interest in quantum physics.â Franciscoâs face was nearly bloodless.
âThen you just make sure it stays that way. Friendship or no friendship, if I find out differently, I will take you down myself â“ understood?â
A realization settled on Francisco so heavily that it almost took his breath away. When he finally responded, his reply was barely audible. âUnderstood.â
As Francisco walked toward the door, Adam rendered a coups de gras. âLook, Frisco, you know that Crawford isnât the only one Iâm concerned about hereâŠ..And why donât you have something done about that damn thing,â he said, pointing at the markings on Franciscoâs left arm, âTwenty years is long enough, even for you.â
******
9:05 am
Amy hesitated before keying the final code that would initiate her call to Doctor Charles Dunmore. She was not sure what she would do if he wasnât available to take it. Gingerly, she keyed the sequence and fortified herself when his image appeared.
âYou are rather late getting in your daily report, Amy, anything wrong?â Doctor Dunmoreâs concern seemed sincere.
âCharles,â Amy began, âKaitlyn and I have revised our algorithm and added a new element. Iâve sent you a formal description paper for the deterministic algorithm that we will be prepared to demonstrate at 1100 hours.â
âIâll check myâŠâ
âWe donât have time for you to review it now. Kaitlyn and the others are preparing the demonstration; the results are outlined in the paper I sent you.â
âAmy, I canât advise you if I donât review the proposal. And how does one post resultsâŠâ
âWhat I sent you is not a proposal, Charles, itâs a technical manual. And I didnât send it to you for your opinion. As much as I appreciate everything youâve done for us so far, we donât need your advice; we need your cooperation.â
She took a breath, but one not long enough to allow for an interruption from a gaping Dunmore. âWe will fail in the demonstration. Iâve outlined exactly why and at what point we will fail when the protocols are applied to an optronic copy. The algorithm will succeed â“ but only when applied to the confinement module and fully realized bio-matterâŠOnce you read the paper, youâll understand. The demonstration is just proof. So Charles, I donât care whose derriere you have to kiss and I donât even care if you have to give it to another team to make sure these protocols are used...Just make it happen.â
Amy shut down the comm-link before Dunmore could respond, leaving him facing a blank viewscreen.
Her voice had been calm and even and without a millisecondâs hesitation while she was talking to Dunmore; by the time the door to the comm. center closed behind her, she was shaking like a gossamer pod in a windstorm, not realizing the relief she had just handed a man who was sorely in need of it.
******
10:15 am
By the time Amy reached hololab 8b, her body had ceased its involuntary quaking. The team was assembled and already at work performing the individual tasks in preparation for his or her part of the process. Kaitlyn had everything under control.
âVen-Kal-Dor has programmed the tonal frequencies you requested. We just completed the integration into the final phase. It required rapid calibration of the frequencies required for the opera, but he pulled it offâŠHowâd it go with Doctor Dunmore?â
Amy put her hand out to see if it was still shaking. âI suppose we will find out soon. Are we ready?â
Kaitlyn took a deep breath and said, âWeâre ready.â
As Kailtyn returned to her station to do one more calibration check, Amy approached Ven-Kal-Dor. His acknowledgement of her when she entered the lab had seemed lukewarm. She was standing beside him for a few seconds before he turned his attention from his workstation and bestowed it on her.
âIâve programmed the frequenciesâŠâ
âI know. Kaitlyn has already filled me in,â Amy interrupted. It occurred to her that she was making him uncomfortable.
âAmy, I need to speak with youâŠand there isnât much timeâŠcan we go into the corridor?â he asked â“ more a plea than a request.
Without saying a word, Amy turned and headed for the lab exit, with Ven-Kal-Dor following. He wasted no time when the doors to the lab shut them off from the rest of the team.
Reaching out for her arm, he swung Amy around and held both her arms with his hands. It startled her, not because of any fear that he would harm her, but because she felt the same surge of incandescent energy she had experienced when his hand had found hers in the culture lab.
The urgency in his voice sent chills through her. âYou will free Worf without the Borg escaping, I have no doubt of that; but while maintaining his confinement, it is vital that this Homunculusâ molecular integrity be maintained as well.â
âYou do believe the Borg is, or was, El-Aurian, donât you?â
âYesâŠI doâŠWe havenât enough time for me to explain how I know.â His grip tightened, transmitting the pounding of his heart to hers. âAmy, he did not say, âYou will be assimilated.â He asked for asylum. The fact that he refers to himself as Homunculus has some crucial significance â“ Iâm sure of it. I believe that if this El-Aurian Borg is destroyed before we know what that significance is, the consequences for Earth, for Tau Ceti Prime, and for the rest of the galaxy may be irrevocable.â
âFrancisco, canât this wait until afterâŠ?â
Her use of his chosen name made his heart pound even harder â“ Amy could feel the increase in their pulse rates. He closed his eyes and bent his head.
When he recovered as much composure as he could muster, he let her go. The disconnection made Amy feel as if the air had been evacuated from the corridor.
âNo. I am leaving 39 after the demonstration. The arrangements have been made.â
Amy managed only a hoarse whisper. âWhy?â
Before Francisco could answer, Lieutenant Commander Vostok rounded the corner of the entry portal, followed by Dean Metzger and Security Chief Adam Quive.
As they approached, Francisco turned to Amy and with sadness in his voice said, âIf I stay, I would surely break an oath to a friend.â
There would be no more time for protest from Amy. Vostok was now standing three feet away, expecting Cadet Crawford to snap-to. Two armed security guards who had followed Quive into the corridor were positioning themselves on either side of the hololab door. Two more took positions on either side of the entry portal at the end of the corridor.
âCadet Crawford, you will be needed inside. Doctor Ven-Kal-Dor, you are excused.â
Amy protested. âLieutenant Commander, Doctor Ven-Kal-Dor is part of our team.â
Vostok ignored her and turned to Francisco. âYou may go, Doctor.â She motioned toward Adam Quive who stood with a grim patience to her right.
Francisco bowed to Amy, held her eyes for a split second then started down the corridor without looking back. Adam Quive followed closely behind.
Vostok keyed the entry to the hololab and entered. Still affected by the rapid decompression of Franciscoâs letting go, Amy followed Dean Metzger into the room to find Doctor Dunmoreâs visage inhabiting the large viewscreen on the wall. Beyond, the flashing light of the optronic module seemed to speed up to match her heartbeat.
âWell, Cadets,â Dunmore began, âHow long will it take you to pack up this gear?â
As if emerging from a fog bank on Galor IV, Amy regained her bearings. She was outraged. âWhat about the demonstration? Did you even read the paper?!â
Dunmore silenced Lieutenant Commander Vostok before she could call the young cadet down for insubordination. âOf course I did. Thatâs why youâre packing. No need for a demonstration, Ms. Crawford. Now, how long will it take you and your team to pack yourselves and any of the specially calibrated hardware you will need to apply your algorithm to the confinement module?â
The only two people in the room that did not have dumfounded looks on their faces were Lieutenant Commander Vostok and Gretchen Metzger.
Finally Kaitlyn found her voice. âFour hours, sir.â
Amy took a deep breath and said a silent thank you to her friend.
Dunmore smiled and avowed, âCongratulations cadets. Youâve made an old prof proud. The wheels are in motion. You can use the holodeck on the ship to make any final adjustments.â
After Dunmoreâs image faded, all eyes turned to Vostok and Metzger.
âTell Doctor Metzger what technical assistance you require. I will see you before you leave.â Vostok was an officer of few words and she made all of them count. She left the lab as she had entered it â“ as if she was in charge of the situation.
Amy asked Gretchen Metzger, âWhat about Doctor Ven-Kal-Dor? He contributed one of the key protocols.â
âAre those protocols already integrated into the algorithm?â
âYes.â
Gretchen, whose personality was molten lava compared to Vostok answered, âThen I would say he is not a necessity. He has been on 39 far longer than was originally planned as it is. I believe the four of you will be sufficient. If you require any technical assistance, Iâm quite sure Starfleet Science will be able to find someone with the skills you need. If it becomes necessary, you can brief them on the way to Starfleet Nevada.â
******
Before leaving Starbase 39-Sierra, Amy managed only enough time to throw her sparse belongings into a transport container. While Kailtyn, Ynden, and TâHerel supervised the final steps of securing their equipment on the science vessel that would ferry them to Earth, she tried to find out about Francisco.
With barely enough time before the ship disembarked, Amy arrived at the crowded Arboretum and headed for Doctor Kapoorâs office.
Before she could announce herself and request an audience, Adam Quive appeared from behind the kelgi-grass.
âMs. Crawford?â
âCommander QuiveâŠI came to see Doctor Kapoor and I donât have much timeâŠâ
âI know, Cadet. I thought I would save you some time and trouble. Francisco has already left the station.â
âHow did youâŠ.When?â
âAlmost two hours ago. He arranged passage on the Ferengi freighter that has been docked here for way too long.â
âWhere is he going?â
âIâm afraid thatâs information I am not at liberty to share.â
Amy and Quive stared at each other far longer than either of them was comfortable with â“ a proverbial Mexican standoff. There was a plethora or questions running through Amyâs mind, but, although she could not explain why, even to herself, there were none she wanted to share with Adam Quive. She would look for her answers elsewhere.
Time was running out. Without another word, Amy turned toward the exit.
The last thing she saw before the turbo lift doors closed was Adam Quive standing in front of the expansive viewing port, the field of stars a solemn background for a man who suddenly looked much older than his years.
******
June 18th, 2386, 8:00 am [Stardate: 63461.18]
Starfleet Nevada
Amy felt like the shriveled little fern in Franciscoâs stasis chamber â“ as if the holodeck walls were made of transparent aluminum and she was on display for kindergartners who were waiting impatiently for the magic to begin.
Standing among the bakerâs dozen on the observation deck, Jean-Luc Picard smiled in anticipation of success. Only a confrontation with the Borg would have kept him away. Enterprise HQ hovered above the planet, awaiting the outcome with equal anticipation.
However, not everyone assembled on the observation deck had the confidence in the group of twenty-somethings that Charles Dunmore possessed. Neither Amy, nor anyone on her team would ever know the markers Dunmore had called in to make this moment happen. If the algorithm failed, Dunmore would go down with it.
The second before giving the command to begin the algorithm and its subroutines, the four cadets looked at one another, silently acknowledging their readiness to begin. In unison, each turned his or her full attention to the sensors and monitors on the control deck.
âComputer,â Amy commanded. âBegin genitronic algorithm 75a. Deactivate neurogenic field...On my mark; Holoprogram begin.â
In a flash of déjà vu, the fused bodies of Worf and the Borg Homunculus were disgorged from the module onto the deck, held in a shimmering force field and encased in the Talaxian glue that had fused them so tightly together.
The Phased Tunneling Beam initialized and began the process of separating the Klingon from the Borg as the genitronic bio-scanner queried and retrieved Worfâs neurogenic data, sending the results to Yndenâs quantum phase discriminator. TâHerelâs fractal optimized imaging scanner locked onto Worfâs signature and Amyâs adaptation protocol began.
The Borg did not move. The disorientation generator was not engaged.
Instead, from an acoustic generator Amy added as a last step in the algorithm, a rapid stream of carefully calibrated tones were directed at the locked genitronic signature of Commander Worf.
The transporter was engaged and Worfâs separated bio-matter exhibited the familiar iridescence of dematerialization. This was the time to hold their collective breaths; there was no going back.
At the microsecond TâHerelâs fractal optimized image scanner recognized Worf as fully materialized, the Borg was sucked back into the module, glue, force field, and all, like an evil jinn returned to his bottle.
There was a tangibly painful gap between the all-clear signal coming from Amyâs console and the realization that what took only a few seconds from start to finish was now a complete success. Like rain for the resurrection fern, the missing element Amy had envisioned upon waking 46 hours earlier had proven to be the key.
As the observers watched TâHerel scan the length of Worfâs body with a tricorder, Captain Picard was already on his way to the holosuite while Doctor Dunmore completed his narration:
âCadet Crawfordâs team had previously experienced complete success with the adaptation the first time they employed it on the optronic module, but could not retrieve a cohesive Commander Worf. After several unsuccessful attempts to isolate the reason for this, Cadet Crawford realized that, having reduced the time to microseconds, their concern should not be with the disorientation of the Borg, but with the reorientation of Commander Worf.â
Dunmore clasped his hands behind his back, assuming his favorite lecture posture, and continued, âWe knew there was activity within the module â“ something was happening but no sensor known to us could tell exactly the nature of the activity. We got our first glimpse of what might be happening when Cadet MacKennaâs team successfully pulled the copy of Commander Worf from the optronic module - that of mortal combat. Soon-to-be-Doctor Crawford theorized that our Mr. Worfâs honor code would not allow him to let go of the Borg until he had won the day. The contribution by each team member was a brilliant innovation in its own rightâŠCommunicating Mr. Worfâs victory to him using acoustic frequencies corresponding to an aria from Aktuh and Maylota â“ that was insightful and inspired. They told him he could let go; and, obviously, he did.â
Just then, and only for a few seconds, screeching sounds audible to everyone were emitted by the acoustic generator as it reduced the ultrasonic range to more tolerable frequencies. As he bellowed, âmaH âoH cheghtaâ!â Worfâs ridged brow furrowed heavily at the four young strangers. Worf was alive, and in good voice.
Before he could demand to see his captain, the doors opened and Jean-Luc Picard stepped through, with a scowl on his face, demanding, âMr. Worf, you have jeopardized the life of one of my best officers â“ explain.â Before Worf could react, his captain broke into a wide smile and extended his hand.
âMr. Worf, it is good to see you.â Picard shook Worfâs hand so vigorously it made the Klingon vibrate.
The group that had been on the observation deck poured into the holosuite. As guards repositioned themselves next to the confinement module, now with a lone tenant, the hand shaking and back slapping began. Those who had been prepared for failure were relieved by the outcome. Dunmore headed straight for the cadets whom he could hardly call students now.
It took Worf a few more seconds to get his bearings once the shrieking of the opera ceased and he had pronounced the victorious return from battle. More than one of the officers who had surrounded Worf was eager to tell him how long he had been confined and what had transpired to free him.
While Worf was engulfed in a sea of well-wishers, Picard extended his thanks to the four young cadets who, along with Dunmore, were reviewing the essential data TâHerel had gathered with her tricorder before the Borgâs DNA could be disturbed or contaminated.
Finally, when he could manage it, Dunmore led Worf over to introduce him to the cadets who were responsible for that freedom. Then, before he could loose any of the memories about being in temporal stasis with the Borg, Worf was whisked away from the cadets to be debriefed.
******
Before the uncorking of the first champagne bottle, Captain Picard and Worf met privately with the four cadets to communicate with the bridge of the Enterprise HQ.
Each member of the bridge complement was seated at his or her console, leaving Worfâs station behind the captainâs chair noticeably vacant â“ their version of the missing man formation broadcasting a silent salute to Commander Worf from his fellow officers.
Standing in front of the captainâs chair, Commander Martin Madden tried to look stoic. It was Geordie La Forge who spoke up first.
âWorf, itâs great to see you. You missed poker night. I won.â
Guinan stepped into view, her expression one of relief and concern. âBefore you decided to take your vacation, I laid in a yearâs supply of prune juice. Iâm glad it wonât go to waste.â
Picard added, âIâm sure I speak for the entire crew when I say, âIt will be good to have you back at your post, Mr. Worf.ââ
Worf almost broke into a grin. âI too am looking forward to returning to my duties, Captain, if only to escape the constant stream of probing I have had to endure since my release from the module. And now, I must endure this gathering Doctor Dunmore has arranged.â
âBelieve me, Commander, I do understand. But you deserve the accolades â“ and the gratitude â“ as do Cadets Crawford, MacKenna, Tor, and TâHerel. You should be very proud of yourselves.â Picard commanded, as he made eye contact with each cadet as he said his or her name. âWe are grateful to you for returning to us a valued member of our crew.â
The swish of the door opening coincided with Kaitlynâs pronouncement. âI think I can speak for all of us when I say that weâre honored by your comments, Captain Picard, but we didnât take on this project for accolades, or even a grade.â Kaitlyn, unopposed spokesperson for the team, had everything under control.
âI know why you took it on, Kaitlyn, and why you all kept the faith and the uncompromising search for the truth. Thatâs why I knew you would succeed.â It was Charles Dunmore.
Through the still open door, the sound of a champagne cork popping could be heard over the noisy conversation in the makeshift reception room beyond. Saying their goodbyes to the Enterprise, the group joined the impromptu celebration that soon escalated into a well attended soirée.
No less than Admiral Nechayev made an appearance to extend her congratulations on the success of the project. When asked about the fate of the confinement module, her answer was short and succinct. âThat is something better discussed at another time.â
Throughout the rest of the evening, the cadets did their best to stay together, even though each of them was besieged by someone wanting to know more about Kaitlynâs use of the Heisenberg compensator, Yndenâs quantum phase discriminator, or Amyâs adaptation. At one point, the Vulcan consul cornered TâHerel, reiterating his request that she return to the Vulcan Science Academy.
After excusing herself from the dean of Starfleet Academy, who suggested she transfer to Starfleet Nevada, Kaitlyn gathered her flock. Worf never strayed too far from the group, watching over them like a mother Horta.
Finally alone again with the cadets, Worf confessed, âWhenever I listen to Aktuh and Maylota it will remind me of the four of you. How did you know that using the victory aria from that opera would communicate the correct message to me?â
Amy cleared her throat and answered, honestly, âWe didnât. We asked your mother â“ you know for a non-Klingon she sure has you pegged.â
Before Kaitlyn or Ynden could add a comment, TâHerel offered her own. âIt was also the most logical guess on which we could all agree.â
The innocent look on the young Vulcanâs face as she said it made Worf appear disconcerted. He squirmed in his uniform and finally asked warily, âDo any of you play poker?â
******
When it was time for the gathering to end and most of the well-wishers had departed, Worf offered to escort the cadets to their assigned quarters. As Kait, Ynden, and TâHerel exited the reception room with Worf following closely behind, Amy stayed behind with Charles Dunmore.
âWhat are your plans now, Amy?â
âIâm a first year cadet. Better to ask what Starfleetâs plans are for me â“ for all of us.â
âAmy, the galaxy is your oyster.â
âMy father taught me a lot, Doctor, but I donât really know what that means.â
âIt means the four of you can write your own bus ticket from here. Starbase 39-Sierra wants all of you back. I want you all to stay here. But if you choose, each of you could wangle a choice assignment on a starship where you could finish your studies and your training. Right now, I donât think it would be unreasonable to speculate that you could even manage to get that assignment together.â
Amy studied Dunmore for a few seconds before asking, âCharles, where will the confinement module be?â
âHere, on Earth, for as long as we can maintain it without danger of the Borg escaping.â
âAnd where will you be?â
âWith the confinement module.â
âI canât speak for Kait or Ynden or TâHerel, but I am with you and the Borg.â
Charles would normally have beamed with pride over her choice, but that seemed inappropriate. He simply said, âIâll make the arrangements.â
******
June 21st, 2386, 6:30 pm [Stardate: 63470.06]
Earth, Southern Louisiana
The hovertrain sped over a long swampy stretch of the landscape. The monotony of it filled Amy with anxious anticipation. âWhat would she find? Would she be welcome?â
Their debriefing at Starfleet Nevada had seemed to go on forever. After the reception, the atmosphere of the place was deadly serious and the security was as tight as an Aldebaran drum kit.
The message on the padd in her lap contained nothing more than a short, cryptic dispatch followed by an address. TâHerel had delivered it after Kaitlyn and Ynden left to visit Kaitâs relatives for the week they had all been granted leave. After trying, unsuccessfully, to convince Amy that she should go with them, Kait had finally given up and left without her.
Sitting in the isle seat next to Amy, TâHerel was engrossed in a medical journal. Amy didnât know why TâHerel, who was bound for Prague, had offered to ride with her as far as New Orleans Global transport terminal â“ LAG would have been much closer. âPossibly the same reason Adam Quive had chosen TâHerel to deliver the message,â Amy thought. She accepted the gesture without comment or question.
Suddenly, Amy thought of Bjorn Gustavsen and wondered where he was.
******
At 8:03 pm, when the aircar pulled up to the front of the house, the sun was just visible through the tree tops. Galor IV had beautiful sunsets, but nothing to compare with the glow that was coloring the clouds sitting atop the trees with what she would come to know as sky blue pink.
Standing on the old, French Creole style porch, with its thick columns and chalky white balustrade, Amy surveyed the long dirt road that led up to the house. The drive was lined with centuries-old live oaks, their branches drooping with age, dipping to rest on the earth, each covered with a shawl of green fern enriched by the sparkling drops from the recent rain glistening on the fronds.
Amy thought of Commander Worf and what he had risked to stop the Borg. He could never stand outside the fire â“ and neither would she. And she could never think of rain in the same way again.
The man who opened the door extended his weathered hand to her and said, âWelcome, Amy Crawford. I have been expecting you.â
Putting her hand in his, Amy crossed over a threshold that had seen 600 years of history, taking the next step of a journey she would never before have imagined.
******
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.