Star Trek HQ

Episode 6, Act 2 – Resurrection

by KayCee

After being ‘dropped off’ at the transport station in northern Arizona, Amy Crawford told the station master where she wanted to go and inquired about the shuttle service. “Is this the quickest way for me to get to my destination?”

The day Charles Dunmore’s hologram vaporized in front of her was what some might call ‘fate’ or ‘kismet.’ She called it…well...Amy wasn’t 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, ‘Kaitlyn’s team will still be there.’

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 ‘creepy,’ a term she had heard her Terran born father use. Amy wasn’t 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 – do her doctoral studies on Earth or 39-Sierra. She’d had other choices if she wanted to completely alienate them – 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 – 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, “Excuse me, there were cadets working in here earlier, do you know where they went?”

The headless body replied, “Gone to breakfast, I would imagine.”

Letting out an audible groan, Amy thought, sarcastically, ‘Of course they have. Why would students hang around a lab?”

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 ‘experience the galaxy beyond the stuffy academic atmosphere of the Daystrom Institute,’ 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.

“Ah, the prodigal daughter returns…Haven’t seen you here in quite some time. In point of fact, I don’t remember ever seeing you in here.” Kaitlyn’s smiling face appearing both surprised and pleased.

“I went to 8b to find you.”

“We’ve been meeting here most mornings for the last week, but you’ve been too absorbed to notice.” 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. “I want to run something by you.”

“Anything. Besides, we owe you one. I take it you’ve heard the good news?” Kaitlyn motioned for her to sit down in the one chair left empty at the table, almost as if it were saved for her. “Have a seat, Amy. Get some breakfast – we’re waiting for ours. I promise you’ll never be satisfied with those grab-n-go meals after you’ve tasted the new cuisine this mess has to offer.”

Without budging from the spot where she was standing, Amy crossed her arms over her chest. “So you’ve been telling me. I don’t have time…Replicated meals are sufficient for me…How much better could it be? And – I don’t have to stand in line for the replicator. Kait, can we talk about the project?”

“There is no more project. MacKenna’s team finished the assignment and got the A,” declared Orlock, his nasal lobe imitating what in a human might be a furrowed brow. Orlock’s 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.

“Yes, 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.” Amy stood as if clad in battle armor.

T’Herel, the Vulcan student who had been on Amy’s team, interjected, “Perhaps I can clarify for Mr. Orlock. There is no more project - for us.”

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, “These are the times that try men’s souls.[1]” 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.

Gripping the edge of the desk with both hands, and only acknowledging Kaitlyn’s presence with a quick glance, Amy pulled herself closer to the screen. “Doctor Dunmore, you can’t. I think I have the answer...”

“I applaud your dedication but the assignment is completed. And the decision is not entirely up to me – this is a Starfleet project – I’m 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.”

“Then, I should think they would want to give some leeway to the team that came up with the first part of that solution,” 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.

“Amy,” Dunmore said as he wearily ran his fingers through thinning hair, “Other promising solutions have also been submitted. Starfleet Science is encouraged by the algorithm formulated by Ms. MacKenna’s team – it’s a good start – 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 up…”

Amy and Kaitlyn looked at each other, the same unspoken thought between them. ‘Perhaps Starfleet had not been as receptive to a solution provided by mere doctoral students.’

Dunmore knew from the expression on Amy’s face he might just as well have slapped her. “I’ve hardly scratched the surface of my holoprogram log from the last 12 hours…but, I am eager to hear what you could have come up with since my transmission terminated only two hours ago.”

Reenergized, and still leaning into the screen, Amy almost whispered, “An adaptive quantum phase discriminator could separate Commander Worf from the Borg in microseconds, well within safe parameters…”

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 Dunmore’s 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 cadet’s mind.

He propped his elbow on the arm of his chair and rubbed his upper lip with his index finger. “Incremental adaptation... And I thought your first algorithm was ingenious…”

Dunmore reconciled his interest in Amy’s ideas with his ability to influence its development in the face of the time limit imposed by the CinC – 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. “How soon can you provide a position paper? I will need that before I can sanction your continued access to the module.”

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, “How soon do you need it?”

“By 1300 Sierra time, I would say…you 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 thesis…The crucial question you will need to answer is, ‘How do you plan to produce an algorithm that works 100% of the time in 10…no, make that 9 days?’”

“Nine days?” Amy looked at Kaitlyn, both breaking into a smile at the same time.

“Keep 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 succeed…You may lose time on your doctoral studies with little or no academic credit...”

Kaitlyn declared, “We won’t know until we try…Will we, Professor?”

“Then you most assuredly will reap something better than an educational reward – and this humble professor’s 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 – I want daily reports – in person.”

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, “Are you sure about her…Can Cadet Crawford free Worf?”

“My friend on 39 is sure. He’s had a chance to observe her for several months.”

“Doctor Yannsen doesn’t know much about your friend, but Doctor Dunmore seems to be quite taken with the man. Perhaps, I should ask if you’re sure about him.”

“I listen. He listens and observes.” Guinan spoke with the soothing voice that was her trademark. “He sees people the way an artist envisions the finished painting before making the first brush stroke on the canvas…the way a composer can hear an entire symphony before ever scoring the first note.”

“Yes, but what if he is wrong?”

“He was wrong once, but only because he didn’t act on what he saw…and he paid a very high price for it.”

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 – considering the student in charge he didn’t 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 – 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 postponed…and 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 39’s 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 Kaitlyn’s 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.

T’Herel, 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 T’Herel first because she was the least likely to cite concerns over study time as a reason for saying no – she never seemed to be behind in anything. One of the growing number of young Vulcans who saw their planet’s ambassador to the Federation not as half-Vulcan but as fresh air in a stagnant culture, T’Herel 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 Kaitlyn’s second recruit. His concerns over adhering to decorum precluded any involvement in the prestidigitation of stampeding targ.

Regardless of Doctor Dunmore’s 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 chief’s 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 – without academic credit of some kind – he was not interested. Influenced by recent events, Orlock’s 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 Bjorn’s classmates ever believed he would make it as a theoretician – 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 member’s 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. “Ah, comfort food.” Looking up at Amy, she beamed, “If you replicated this, I want the recipe.”

“I didn’t,” 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, “You mean you actually ordered this from the mess?...Crivvens! Call the news service!”

“No…I didn’t.”

Kaitlyn’s 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, “The food was here, in the lab, when I arrived.”

Kaitlyn looked at the tray controls and noted they had been calibrated to keep the soup at the optimum temperature for twenty minutes. “Annndd…you don’t know how they got here. Why do I get the feeling this is not the first time?”

“The first time I was working very late in the study room and a yeoman brought in a tray of sticky buns. He couldn’t tell me who sent them – 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 – same twenty minute setting. Considering your campaign to get me to eat non-replicated food, I thought…”

“That it was me?”

“Well, I didn’t think it was Santa Claus.”

“Amy, I haven’t had time to eat more than energy bars myself since we started on this mind boggling journey together, let alone make sure you’re eating well…Hot and delicious, huh? Is Amy beginning to understand that some things can be appreciated for more than their ability to keep the body functioning?”

Amy met her friend’s teasing with mock disapproval.

Kaitlyn, having too much fun, couldn’t quit. “Twenty minutes, huh? Enough time for someone to make a clean getaway.”

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. T’Herel 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 Amy’s daily report, Dunmore was forced to give her the bad news about Starfleet’s tepid response to her team’s progress. “I’m 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.”

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, “Do you believe we should?”

Dunmore answered in his authority figure voice, “I 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.”

Then he softened his tone. “Cadet Tor’s enhancement protocol is a huge hit. What originally was thought to require more than a week has been accomplished, with young Ynden’s help, in three days…that will work in our favor.”

“I can’t stop until I find the answer. Thanks, Charles.” Amy started to end the communication, but stopped and asked, “Charles? Do you think there is any information about Doctor Russell’s work that was not destroyed on Bilana III?”

“I see you have decided to get on the side of the bus with the windows. I’ll see what I can find.” Charles Dunmore smiled from ear-to-ear and decided he would devise some way to keep the module, and Amy’s work, intact, even if it meant doing it under-the-table.

“Failure. Complete and utter failure!” 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 Worf’s signature, the more unstable Worf’s matrix became when rematerializing outside the field.

The news that Starfleet had rejected their algorithm was the death knell for the team’s effort as far as Bjorn was concerned.

“We 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, that’s all I ask. There’s something we’re missing – 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.”

Gustavsen would not relent. “We’ve broken it down a dozen times…Amy, I can’t put any more time into this.”

Bjorn turned to Kaitlyn and the others. “If you have any sense of self preservation, you’ll walk away from this exercise in futility too.” Then turning back to look Amy straight in the face he declared, “The operation was a success but the patient died! It’s a fool’s errand.” Amy thought it strange that the vehemence of his words was not reflected in his eyes.

However, Bjorn wasted no time leaving, taking his clichés with him. Three days hence would see him on his way to an outpost none of his classmates even knew existed. T’Herel, 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. “Go,” she said, “There’s no reason for you to stay.”

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, “You expect so much out of everyone…None of us can match your dedication…but we do keep trying. Amy, Bjorn was wrong – you’re no fool.”

Amy pulled her face out of her hands, her cheeks wet with tears. “No, Kait, he was right. They all were. I can’t leave it alone. For some reason, I just…can’t…leave it alone. The rest of you shouldn’t have to suffer for my obsession.”

Kaitlyn returned, quietly, “I’m on that bus to the end of the line and you’re not kickin’ me off.”

Ynden, having spent the past three days working with Starfleet engineers, had remained silent through Bjorn’s 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. “I’m a little surprised at T’Herel, but I know the only reason Sol Dro and Bjorn agreed to help in the first place is because you talked them into it.” She stopped short of telling Kaitlyn why she believed Ynden had made his declaration of loyalty. “If it wasn’t for your powers of persuasion, we wouldn’t have had a team at all. Why do you bother with me, Kait? I have little to no social skills and don’t really aspire to acquire any.”

“True, you do a good job of imitating wall decor in most interactions requiring personality, but you have potential.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. Besides, you’re the smart one. I’m hoping some of it rubs off on me.”

“What are you talking about? Your team is the one who solved the first problem.”

“After you sent me a list of what not to try – and only then by accident.”

“There are no accidents. You and Ynden recognized the truth, that’s all.”

“See what I mean. Now c’mon. Before the Viking imploded, you promised to leave it alone for an hour. We don’t want to be late for lunch. It’s picnic day.”

“How I let you talk me into skipping extra research time to go, of all things, on a picnic. Especially now, when we should be…”

“You’re decorating that wall again. And we need it now more than ever.”

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 ecosystem’s environmental requirements. Some specimens were holographic images but most were living plants – 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.

“Kait,” Amy asked, “Do you have any idea who that is?”

“Who, Doctor Kapoor?”

“No,” Amy replied, indignantly, “the man he’s talking to.”

“He’s the reason the dining hall in our half of the base is always so crowded. I heard someone call him Francisco.”

Amy’s face tightened. “He 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?”

“He is a chef, m’dear. You don’t 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?”

Amy gave Kaitlyn a sideways look, as if to say ‘Are you kidding?’ “This is 39-Sierra. Dunmore was a hologram…”

“Wait a minute, hold on there. He’s a chef, Amy. Holographic techno-miracles aside, what would he be doing in 8b? I know you’ve been working like a Cardassian vole with a death wish but I think you better back up and think this out.”

“I tell you, I saw him,” she nodded her head in the man’s direction, “in 8b, with his head stuck under the console of the emitter the day Dunmore’s holoprogram shipped out. I went to the lab to find you – it was 0500 and you weren’t there – but he was.”

Much to Kaitlyn’s amusement, Amy watched the man with the tattoo as she nibbled menacingly at her sandwich. She was now positive of the marking’s origin – 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 Amy’s 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 Amy’s 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.

“Amy, I would like you to meet Venkaldor, Doctor Kapoor’s assistant.” Kaitlyn tilted her head slightly and added, “cooking is apparently his hobby.”

The man’s eyes were Alexandrite violet and seemed to pierce straight through her.

“I 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.”

Amy was not sure what to say; he had successfully parried her foil.

Venkaldor addressed Kaitlyn, “And I must congratulate you, Cadet MacKenna, on your team’s initial success.”

Kaitlyn thanked him. Then to keep her friend from blurting out the question she knew was on Amy’s 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.

“He has clearance and was authorized to be in 8b on the date in question. I’d say that’s 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 me…And don’t go bothering him either. The menu on this floating loony bin has improved 200% since he arrived.”

Quive’s 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 – 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 station’s 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.

“Computer, locate personnel – identity Ven-Kal-Dor.”

The computer answered, “Security authorization required, state your authorization code.”

Grabbing a tricorder, Amy didn’t wait for the computer to tell her she wasn’t 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 friend’s presence on 39.

“I don’t trust him. The man is an enigma wrapped in a conundrum which is locked in a closet,” she warned – again.

“I told you before, he just wants to do his work and be left alone.” Quive fired back, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than Vostok.

“Then why isn’t he on some piss-ant research facility somewhere instead of one of the highest profile facilities in the Federation?”

If Adam had an answer for that, he wouldn’t have shared it with her.

The aroma in the dining hall was inviting, even to Amy’s 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, “I don’t have the Francisco watch.”

Chastising herself for such childish curiosity, Amy thought, ‘This is ridiculous, ’ 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.

“Doctor Ven-Kal-Dor.” 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. “My friends call me Francisco.”

Ignoring the implication this strange man wanted her to be his friend and avoiding direct eye contact, she crossed her arms and stated, curtly, “There is not much in the database about the culture or inhabitants of Tau Ceti Prime, but I’m pretty sure that isn’t your given name.”

“No, 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 Ukala….There is more, do you wish me to go on?”

“No.” Amy couldn’t help smiling in spite of herself. She was suddenly disarmed again and had no idea why. “How did you manage to come by the name Francisco? It sounds like something very old world Earth to me.”

“My grandmother.”

“Your grandmother’s name was Francisco?”

Now it was his turn to smile. “Francisco is a character from a 20th century Earth novel….She thought it appropriate because of my propensity for taking odd jobs to learn from those who actually do the work.”

“Is that how you learned to cook?”

“Yes.”

“Still, one wonders why someone with three doctorates, in three separate and diverse disciplines, spends his time cooking for cadets.” Amy recalled the results of her biographical search – horticulture, philosophy, and quantum mechanics.

The man’s youthful appearance contradicted the years of experience he must have, her research failing to establish his birth date. The biographical information in the base computer’s meager dossier was mostly professional and that was limited; little personal information seemed to be available.

“I enjoy cooking. You believe it beneath me?”

“No, I believe it a waste.”

“Of time?”

“Of talent.”

“Whether it be food or quantum mechanics, Ms. Crawford, I am still a cook.”

“What were you doing in this lab four days ago?”

“I had permission to be here.”

“Is evasion part of your repertoire of skills?”

“I was checking the calibration of the holoemitter. I do have clearance…but you already knew that...are you testing my honesty now?”

Amy decided she was the one in charge of this inquisition. She ignored the question and concentrated on his impressive credentials. “And, was the calibration out of spec?”

“There is nothing amiss with the calibration of the holographic projectors – or the bio-scanner.”

“Why were you checking them in the first place? You’re not assigned to this lab as a technician. That much I was able to find out.”

“Doctor Dunmore asked me to verify the empirical data was not the result of…calibration anomalies…as opposed to the veracity of Cadet MacKenna’s algorithm itself.”

“I see. At least that’s plausible.”

“I’m afraid the implication of that fact is: There is nothing wrong with the hardware.”

That hurt, and Amy felt it run through her whole being.

“I only tell you this so you can stop looking in the wrong place for your answers…a courtesy you extended to Cadet MacKenna.”

Amy’s discomfort was apparent as she chastised herself for placing the blame for her failure on faulty calibrations.

“Ms. 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 T’Herel and Gustavsen. As you know, Cadet Sol Dro’s gravimetric disorientations are unnecessary now that your adaptation has reduced the separation rime to microseconds. I would like to volunteer my services.”

Amy’s look of baffled surprise must have prompted what he said next.

“I can easily arrange it with Doctor Kapoor and I am qualified. I’m sure Doctor Dunmore will provide a reference.”

“And you can bet I will ask him for one.” Amy congratulated herself for developing at least a tacit immunity to his charm.

“I have no doubt of that. In fact, I would be quite disappointed if you were to accept me under any other conditions…now, if you will excuse me, I am scheduled to give a cooking lesson at 1600 hours.”

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, “I assure you – I am real.”

“Just checking,” 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

“I most certainly do approve, Amy. He will be an asset to your team.”

“Charles, how do you know Doctor Ven-Kal-Dor? Or perhaps I should ask how well do you know him?”

“We were students together at university. He’s a few years younger than me…very bright, as if he absorbs knowledge through his skin. But I’m sure you’re more interested in finding out whether or not he can be trusted. Considering the current circumstances, I don’t blame you.”

“He is quite the riddle.”

Charles could not hold back a wry chuckle. “Besides that, he’s headstrong, stubborn, unpredictable…and, occasionally, heartbreakingly disappointing – something I have come to understand, over the years, has been a failing more on my part than his.” Dunmore sighed wearily. “Trust is a deeply personal thing, and we all have to, finally, trust our own instincts.”

Amy hesitated before she asked, “And the tattoo?”

“My dear, I’m afraid that’s something only he can answer.”

Day Five was rescheduled for team review, re-proof, and computer simulations. Before Amy could get completely into the room, Kaitlyn pulled her aside.

“Amy, what do we know about him? I did some research. Do you know what the markings on his arm mean?”

“Yes, I know what they mean...” Amy resisted the temptation to say, ‘I know a little about research myself.’ Instead, she lectured, “He had the same markings yesterday. They didn’t seem to bother you then.”

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. “He bothered you yesterday, how has that suddenly changed? Look, I understand your curiosity, and he is…well, intriguing…but this seems more like a dangerous distraction.”

“Kait, 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?”

“I guess if he can pass the Quive litmus test he must not be any kind of security concern, but there’s just something about him…maybe he’s some sort of Federation spook…”

“Now who’s letting their imagination run away with them? Kait, we have less than five days. If we’re going to see this through to the end, we don’t have a lot of options…and he does have the Dunmore seal of approval.”

“I know…but I’m still not comfortable.” Kaitlyn said, admitting to herself a little jealousy because of her friend’s ready acceptance of the man; it had taken her months to win Amy’s confidence.

It was at that point that T’Herel made her entrance, much to everyone’s surprise – except Tor Ynden. As she took her place at the table, all she said was, “I could not persuade Cadet Gustavsen to alter his position.” She shifted her focus to Ynden, as if handing off the conclusion of the announcement to him.

“I had a long talk with Sol Dro. He’s not coming back – he has responsibilities beyond his own studies that make it impossible for him to continue with the project. He regrets that he won’t be able to share in our success and hopes we will understand.”

When the meeting commenced, Kaitlyn’s 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 T’Herel 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. “What would the value be of knowing the original species of the Borg?”

The question was met with squint-eyed scrutiny. “I don’t know that the thought ever occurred to us,” Ynden ventured. He looked around for confirmation of that fact. Receiving it, he continued, “Bio-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 confinement…something we are all trying very hard to prevent.”

“Yes, 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?”

The other four team members looked at each other, contemplating the possibilities.

Kaitlyn speculated, “We 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 him…something I doubt Starfleet Science is willing to do, even for the microsecond we would need…and it would still not give us genetic markers.”

“I’m just asking if you thought it would be of any help.” Doctor Ven-Kal-Dor’s voice carried a tinge of frustration.

Kaitlyn, watching Amy for a reaction said, “If we had even a few genetic markers, it could give us an edge in separating the two and increase the accuracy of the lock.”

Amy shook her head to indicate the negative, “But it would also vastly increase the time necessary to achieve the lock. I’m afraid that would just put us back where we started.”

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.

“Doctor, Amy tells us you are part El-Aurian.” Ynden leaned back in the chair awaiting Ven-Kal-Dor’s reaction.

“My grandfather is El-Aurian.”

“Then, you have a vested interest in this project. The Borg assimilated all but a few of your ancestors.”

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, “There 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?”

Ynden ignored Ven-Kal-Dor’s attempts to redirect his line of questioning. “What makes you think the Borg fused to Commander Worf is El-Aurian?”

The rest of the group no longer wondered about Ynden’s purpose as they watched him square off with Ven-Kal-Dor, without animosity, but like a debater in mind-to-mind combat.

Familiar with Ynden’s intellect and deductive reasoning skills, Ven-Kal-Dor was neither surprised nor offended by the question. “That, my young friend, would be difficult to explain, even if I was inclined to do so.”

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 Amy’s 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.