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Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!unmvax!constellation!apple!agate!ames!decwrl!csus.edu!netcomsv!mork!clarka
From: clarka@netcom.com (Andrew Clark)
Subject: The _Enterprise_ Encounter 
Message-ID: <ajamrg+.clarka@netcom.com>
Date: Sat, 18 Jul 92 07:16:13 GMT
Organization: Netcom - Online Communication Services  (408 241-9760 guest) 
Summary: one of the _Endeavor_ series 
Sender: clarka@netcom.com (Andrew Clark), also aclark@UCSD.EDU 
Distribution: alt.startrek.creative
Lines: 804

This is my third net-posted story about the crew of the _USS Endeavor_.
Comments, as usual, are greatly appreciated.  I hope you enjoy.


                  The _Enterprise_ Encounter


     "Captain's Log, _USS Endeavor_, Commander Lisa Tanaka commanding.  
We are currently on patrol station to the galactic north of StarBase
4, with orders to intercept and interrogate any vessel approaching
the StarBase as consonant with my current orders.  Suspend."

     There isn't anything else to say, is there?  I can't exactly
admit that two enemy agents boarded _Endeavor_ and nearly captured
the ship.  I can't give Ko'ta credit for stopping them because the
incident never officially happened.  Admiral Newhausen has access to
this log, and so I can't even hint that anything out of the ordinary
happened aboard this ship.  Lieutenant Nguyen, creative brat that she 
is, arranged for his "accident" and short-term memory loss in order to
save my career.  
     "Cancel log entry."
     Tanaka was alone on the bridge.  Most of the crew was still
recovering from the poisoned food that had been "borrowed" from
StarBase for the pre-patrol party.  She had the conn, and it was
boredom time.  Her body had thrown off the poison fairly well; some
less fortunate people were still unconscious.
     "Show comm messages to/from _Endeavor_ between first and second
departures from StarBase 4." 
     The list came up, and only one message appeared.
     Priority One.  I don't need this, not now.
     "Play."
     The front viewscreen showed Admiral Newhausen's ugly face.
Tanaka nearly fainted.  She caught her breath and remembered that it
was a recording, not real-time.  The angry expression on his face
reminded her of events she would rather forget.
     "A situation has developed on the Romulan border.  A Federation
scout was attacked by unidentified craft suspected to be Romulan.  It
was crippled by the attack and remains near the Neutral Zone.  Eastern
Fleet combat orders are being relayed through StarBase 8.
     Romulans.  Can't leave well enough alone.
     "As you know, the Romulans have significant cloaking capabilities.
The scout reported that the Romulans were not detected before opening
fire.  This may mean that one or several Romulan vessels are in 
Federation space at this time, should the Romulans intend to break the
cease-fire agreement.
     Joy.  A typical Warbird would turn _Endeavor_ into dead particles
of more-or-less equal mass in a matter of minutes.
     "In response, the Klingon Empire has significantly upgraded its 
combat posture.  StarFleet Intelligence reports indicate that Klingon 
forces are massing at <screech> and <screech>.  The Klingons may 
intend to take advantage of this conflict between Romulans and 
Federation by attacking both.  All StarFleet vessels should exercise
extreme caution at this time."  The screeches indicated positions, 
which were transmitted in code and superimposed on a display.  The 
message winked out.
     Classic pincer movement.  The Klingons could carve out a hole in
both Romulan and Federation space, and neither would have the 
resources to prevent it.  Tanaka was just as glad to be on patrol 
station near the heart of the Federation; the _Endeavor_ was more a 
law-enforcement vessel than a warship.  
     Ko'ta had acknowledged, then requested specific orders.     
     "_USS Endeavor_, we're putting you on StarBase sector traffic 
control.  Under the higher security conditions, all routine traffic 
approaching a StarBase must be searched for contraband or unauthorized 
weaponry.  Larger vessels are needed in the combatant role.  We'll 
have specific orders after we get in contact with _Revolution_."  
_USS Revolution_ was the sector command ship; Tanaka's direct superior,
good old Captain Cogswell, ruled it with an iron fist.  Cogswell,
naturally, wrote Tanaka's fitness reports.  Wonder what he'd think of
this latest mess.  On second thought, better not.  I've got enough
problems. 
     The communications console beeped three times, then started
wailing loudly.  Tanaka put the incoming message on main viewer.
     "Oh my God," she gasped instantly, pressing the button on her
chair that would trigger a ship-wide Yellow Alert.
     A battered-looking ensign, no, cadet was on screen.  The right
side of his face looked like it had been flash-burned.  Behind him,
a starship bridge was in shambles.  Consoles were fire-scarred and
the lighting was dim red emergency.
     "This is _USS Enterprise_ to any StarFleet vessel.  We are in 
need of immediate assistance.  USS _Reliant_ was hijacked and 
attacked this vessel.  We destroyed it, but sustained many casualties
and have lost warp capability.  Repeat, we need immediate assistance."
     It was readily apparent to Tanaka that the cadet was in shock.
     "This is Commander Lisa Tanaka, _USS Endeavor_.  What is your
current position, over?"
     Lieutenant Samirez and two members of his bridge team entered
from the turbolift and immediately appropriated the helm, sensors,
and weapons/defense consoles.
     The viewscreen cut to a different image, this one a full view
of the _Enterprise_ main bridge.  A young Vulcanoid sat in the command
chair, a lieutenant by her rank insignia.  She signaled the cadet
to remain silent with one hand, then spoke.  Tanaka recognized none
of the officers on the bridge, despite having been forced to study
the _Enterprise_ bridge crew for professional reasons.
     "Our current position is the Mutara sector, transmitting precise
coordinates now."  Tanaka's fingers automatically routed them to the
helm console, and she felt the ship shudder slightly as the warp
engines were dumped into hot start sequence.
     "I am Lieutenant Saavik.  The _Enterprise_ was attacked by the
_USS Reliant_ after it was hijacked by Khan Singh at Ceti Alpha 5.
We have sustained extremely heavy damage and require immediate
technical and medical assistance."
     "Who is ranking officer aboard?" Tanaka asked.  Alarm bells were
ringing in her head, even as her fingers demanded cross references
concerning _USS Reliant_.  She already knew who Khan was, a figure
in Earth history presumed long dead.  The information came up --
_USS Reliant_ was assigned to scientific research duty for SpaceLab
Regula One.  Captain Terrell, Commander Chekov.       
     "Admiral Kirk."
     You got that one right, Lieutenant.  Or Centurion.  Let's go for 
the booby prize, shall we?
     "I would like to speak to Admiral Kirk."
     The Vulcan hesitated for just a moment.
     "He is . . . indisposed."
     "I see.  We are en route at high speed.  Please transmit information
concerning damage aboard and casualties so that we can plan our 
response."
     The image flickered out and was replaced with a damage-control
summary.
     "Plot intercept course, Warp 8.  Execute."
     Tanaka got up from the communications console and sat down in her
favorite chair.      
     "Is Warrant Officer Baruch conscious?" she asked by intercom.
     "Yes, sir, but only barely.  Here he is, sir, and good luck." 
     "Sir?" he moaned.  Baruch had enjoyed far more than his fair 
share of the buffet and was now suffering the consequences.
     "I need you to assemble your Marines into an armed boarding party.
I have reason to believe that _Enterprise_ has been hijacked."
     Baruch snapped awake instantly.
     "Can do Marines aye aye sir!" he snapped as he sat up, then had
to control his moans as the headaches set in with full force.
     "Thank you, out.  Helm, time to intercept _Enterprise_?"
     "One hour, forty-seven minutes at Warp 8."
     "Is the engineer conscious?"
     "No, sir, she's still out cold."
     Tanaka cursed.  Higher speeds would be helpful, but if the
warp drive failed, _Endeavor_ would be a sitting duck.  Not worth the
risk just yet. 
     Two more crew entered the bridge and took the remaining consoles.
     "We have some time.  Communications, relay the message to 
StarFleet Command and add our position and intention to investigate.
Advise StarFleet that I have reason to be suspicious."
     "Aye, sir."
     While the message was going out, Tanaka reviewed the information
_Enterprise_ had sent.  Battle damage to all power systems, but some
of it apparently repaired.  Nasty phaser hit to the port torpedo bay,
apparently knocking it out.  The secondary hull was a shambles, a
wreck.  Repairs would be difficult, but not impossible with the
right crew and another ship to provide a jump-start.                     
     Of course, a Romulan prize crew could have generated this data
and sent it along with the message in the hopes of capturing other
ships.  Ships with later designs, and less damaged.  Ships like
_Endeavor_, who with small crew complements would be vulnerable to a 
capture attempt.
     Tanaka knew better than to try and brainstorm alone.
     "Exec to the bridge.  _Enterprise_ is in distress; she's all
but crippled and has many casualties aboard.  We're en route, Warp
8."  That was enough for now; her own suspicions could wait.  
     "So what?  Never mind, I'm on the way."  Tanaka grimaced at this
off-handed reply.  Ko'ta may have saved the ship, but she still needs
to adjust her attitude.
     Ko'ta arrived on the bridge a scant minute later.  The Andorian
female smoothly sat down on the guardrail ringing the bridge,
then remembered and stood.  Tanaka decided to ignore the momentary 
lapse for more important matters.
     "Take a look," Tanaka offered as she played back the message
from _Enterprise_ and the damage control summary.
     "Looks suspicious to me, sir.  If they were really in trouble,
I'd think that one of the original _Enterprise_ crew would be on the
bridge.  Sulu at the helm, Uhura at comm, almost certainly Captain
Spock or Admiral Kirk at the conn."
     "That's what I thought too.  By the way, Khan Noonian Singh
has been dead since the twenty-first century.  There is some historical
dispute over the matter, but no one has suggested that he survived
until now."  Tanaka's passion for Terran and galactic history was
well-known among her peers.  A hobby, like Captain Gerasev's model-
making or Admiral Kirk's womanizing.  Odd, that, how a lust-crazed
male would be called a stud, and his female equivalent a slut.  Some
things never change, no matter how hard we try.  Ahem.
     "The damage was severe.  Maybe some of them were killed," Ko'ta
noted coldly.  She cared little for herself, so why care for others?
     "Not all of them, certainly.  They have the most outrageous 
luck, you know."
     "You could ask _Enterprise_ for a visual record of the battle.
A prize crew would never think of faking <that>." 
     "Great idea.  Get me _Enterprise_."
     "On screen."
     This time, Lieutenant Saavik was not present, and Admiral Kirk
was.  Maybe he's a Romulan spy, Tanaka muttered to herself before
shelving the entire hijack scenario.
     "_USS Endeavor_, what is your ETA?"
     "One hour thirty-nine minutes at present speed, sir."
     "What is your present speed?"
     Sir, ETA plus warp speed plus your position gives any 
eavesdroppers my position within a few thousand kilometers.  Our
high warp signature gives them bearing, and the other information
gives distance.  Are you out of your bloody mind?  Tanaka looked 
again at his face and gave that possibility a strong maybe.
     "Fastest possible, Admiral.  This is not a secure channel.  By
the way, set course for the second star on the right . . . "
     "and straight on 'till morning," Kirk finished.  "Quite right, 
Commander.  We have sustained heavy casualties and do not have 
warp capabilities.  StarFleet Command will be sending you orders
in encrypted form.  We look forward to your arrival."
     "Understood, Admiral.  This is a Wraith-class vessel and has 
full rescue capabilities."  Admiral Kirk frowned.  So we have 
one-fifth your crew, half your weapons capability, and one-tenth 
your endurance.  We're also 20% faster than you are and much more
maneuverable.  Bet you can't do a U-turn in ten seconds at full
impulse power.  We can and have.
     "Wraith-class?" Kirk asked with a sneer in his voice.
     "It's not the ship, it's the captain.  _Endeavor_ out."
     The _Endeavor_ crew heard a gasp from the screen and the
view snapped back to external forward.
     "Sir, that was <low>," Samirez pointed out.  The Colombian
had a point, Tanaka thought.  The man's just been in a space 
battle.  She decided to apologize at the next opportunity.
     "Give me all-call.  This is the Captain.  The _USS Enterprise_
is crippled and has sustained many casualties.  We are moving to
intercept and render assistance.  Configure for high-intensity
rescue operations.  I'm sorry, but emergencies don't happen 
according to plan.  I will make it up to you.  Bridge out."
     The entire crew was still recovering from food poisoning.
The only unaffected officers were dead-tired and lusting after
a pillow and blanket.  They had been cheated out of two days'
shore leave after a six-month patrol mission culminated by a fight
with a computer-controlled Klingon battle cruiser.  Normally,
Tanaka would have eased off.  That wasn't possible now.

     
     Teams of off-duty crew went from bunkroom to bunkroom, dumping
crew personal items into containers and loading the containers on
antigrav pallets.  A squad of StarFleet Marines followed, putting
computer terminals on medical monitoring mode and sterilizing sheets
with hand-held sonic scrubbers.  The crew would have to sleep at
their posts or in one of the two cargo bays.  The conversion gave
_Endeavor_ sixty-four hospital beds.  Junior officers were not spared 
the transformation; their rooms became intensive-care wards, with
two patients per room.  This produced 16 critical-care beds.  The 
sickbay grew to encompass the biological labs and part of the corridors 
in every direction.  The normal fifteen-bed capacity of SickBay expanded 
to thirty beds and four operating areas.
     Doctor Valin grumbled even as the plan started falling into place.
The Marines would act as paramedics and gofers for the trained medical 
personnel.  Valin would hold down sickbay, and his aide Douglas would
monitor the intensive-care patients in officer's quarters.  Nyae Due and 
Kemper, ship's xenobiologist and xenopsychologist respectively, would 
patrol crew quarters.  
     Warrant Officer Grover was busy writing a very complicated program 
to keep track of each patient's condition using the ship's computers and 
warn of any problems.  The logistics would be nightmarish -- twenty crew
caring for 110 patients.  Ugh.  Grover gulped a liter of caffeine-laden 
sugar water and continued working.
     Down in Engineering, Ensign Boki wished that Lieutenant Reynolds 
hadn't eaten so many Nyopian pastries.  He organized damage control teams
to board _Enterprise_ and hoped that engineering officers on the crippled 
ship would know what to do with them.  This was out of his league.  
Tanaka knew it, of course, and didn't press too hard.  Both of them wished 
fervently for Lieutenant Reynolds to regain consciousness.


     Tanaka hated this part the most.  Once _Endeavor_ docked with
_Enterprise_, she would be too busy to worry.  The crew knew their
jobs for the most part, and she couldn't help by staring over 
shoulders and irritating frayed nerves.
     StarFleet's orders had been very specific.  "Provide what
assistance to _Enterprise_ is necessary in the opinion of her
commander and immediately thereafter proceed to Earth at maximum
possible speed.  Maintain subspace silence."
     Paranoids.  Sounds like something very . . . political.
     Tanaka reviewed the damage to _Enterprise_ for the umpteenth
time.  It looked strange, and she ran it through the space combat
simulator Grover had hooked up a few weeks back.  No blast diffusion, 
and tightly focused damage patterns.  Then she knew.
     Kirk hadn't raised shields.  The damage was too concentrated;
shields would have bounced some energy and diffused the rest.  Most
of the targets had been very precisely selected to cause power loss
but not destruction.
     Mistakes like that ruined careers.  Tanaka itched to get a 
copy of the _Enterprise_ flight recorder and check her theory.  In
the meantime, she borrowed a console and punched up a part of her
personal log.

>                    ( Tanaka's Rules )
> ..  
> 27   Use your tractors, dammit!
> 28   Speed is life.

> 29   When in doubt, raise shields.

     Tanaka tapped a few keys and saved the file.    


     Tanaka did not look forward to meeting Kirk again.  She had
met him in person once before, and he had tried to pick her up.
Now, the irritated Admiral had been insulted by a mere Commander,
one whose career was already in jeopardy.  Good going -- Ko'ta
could have done better than that.
     "Sir, we're arriving.  Voice link only, and _Enterprise_
suggests that we dock on the starboard side of the secondary hull."
     "Lieutenant, have you ever docked with a starship?"
     "No, sir."
     "This won't be your first time."  Tanaka took the helm and
ran through the docking procedure herself.  An accidental collision
would be the end of her career, for sure, and Samirez looked tired.
At least Tanaka had done it before.  She became the ship, and
_Enterprise_ held position, waiting for her to connect.
     "Gotcha!" she exclaimed when the airlocks met and locked 
together.  _Endeavor_ had been designed to dock with other ships,
but an airlock-to-airlock connection without a gangway was always
ticklish with ships massing thousands of metric tons.


     The tech at Sensors looked up at Tanaka.
     "Sir, I'm reading a planet in this sector, but it's not on
the bloody charts!"  Tanaka looked over his shoulder, then double-
checked his work.
     "You are correct.  The scanner must be on the wrong scale.
Where is the Mutara Nebula?  Use that as a rough reference."
     "It's on the chart, but sensors can't find it."
     "WHAT!  Nebulae do not just disappear, mister."
     Tanaka elbowed him aside, furious, as she punched up the 
data charts and cross-referenced them rapidly.  Position, check.
Federation long-range survey, check.  Database updates from
passing vessels, check.  Original survey report, check.  Systems
diagnostic showed that everything was working.
     There was a planet, class M, in place of a nebula.  A well-
cataloged nebula, and its existence was confirmed on the charts.
Except, of course, that sensors said it did not exist.
     "Switch to high-intensity scanning, and record everything.  
Ask Warrant Officer Agulnaga to report to the bridge.  By the
way, my sincere apologies."
     "Yes, sir."          
     Seconds later, Jose had arrived.
     "Take a look at this."  It took him fifteen seconds to 
realize the significance.
     "That's impossible, sir."
     "No dirty words on this bridge, Warrant Officer."
     "Sorry, sir.  This may give me the paper of a lifetime."
     "Good.  Collect every scrap of data you can and come up
with some sort of conclusion."
     "Aye, sir."  Agulnaga fled to the relative safety of AuxCon in
order to pursue a possible Nobel prize.

     
     Warrant Officer Baruch was the first person at the airlock.  He 
held his phaser loosely, just in case.  The Captain had canceled her 
boarding party request, but he was required by law to be suspicious.  
Behind him stood two damage control teams and six Marines ready to play 
paramedics or guards as circumstances dictated.
     The _Enterprise_ opened its airlock, and the _Endeavor_ equalized
atmospheric pressure between the two ships.  The _Endeavor_ airlock
opened, and Warrant Officer Baruch found himself pointing a phaser
at an Admiral.
     "Sir!" he saluted, as Marines do when they don't know what to do.
     "At ease.  Where is your commanding officer?"
     "Bridge, sir.  Tomas, escort Admiral Kirk to the bridge."
     "Aye, sir."
     The damage control teams, led by Ensign Boki, stepped aboard the
_USS Enterprise_.  
     Oh my God it's Captain Scott.  Boki stammered reflexively.
     "Sir, we're here, uh, do you need any help?  Sir?"
     "Aye, that I do.  Do ye have any experience with Constitution-class 
vessels?"
     "Uh, no, sir."
     "You'll learn, laddie."  With that, Scott started a whirlwind of 
activity, usurping Ensign Boki's nominal command.  No one seemed to mind.  
The damage control teams knew what to do or were quick learners.  Boki
learned more about field engineering in the next six hours than most
cadets learned in thirty weeks at the Academy.


     Here goes nothing.  Baruch had warned her of what was coming.
     "Admiral Kirk, welcome aboard." 
     Kirk nodded, preoccupied.  Corporal Tomas took up a post by the
door, doing his best to look grim and efficient.
     "I would prefer to speak in private, Commander."
     "Yes, sir.  My quarters are this way."
     Someone let out a loud wolf whistle as Tanaka and Kirk entered
the turbolift.  Tanaka filed the matter for future reference.
     "Officer's quarters," she snapped to the computer.
     Kirk remained silent until he was in Tanaka's quarters and the
door was shut.  He sat down in the only chair, and Tanaka sat down on
her bed.  Kirk took three data chips from his pocket and held them
out to her.  She pocketed them absently.
     "Commander, these are dispatches for StarFleet Command.  You are
to deliver them into the hands of Admiral Nogura, personally.  They
are not to be tampered with, and you are NOT to read them.  If your 
ship is captured, destroy them."
     "Yes, sir.  What is all of this about?"
     "Better that you not know, Commander."
     "Aye, sir."  Up yours, too, sir.
     "Godspeed."  
     Tanaka saw the Admiral out and was seething moments later.
     He didn't even pay me the courtesy of telling me what the hell
is going on!  Guess I'll have to find out myself.


     The senior crew met around the traditional triangular table. 
     Tanaka sat at the head of the table, with her personal aide sitting 
directly to her left.  Ko'ta leaned on the table with her elbows and 
looked across at Tanaka.  Lieutenant Reynolds had regained consciousness 
and briefed herself on the situation.  Dr. Valin sat next to her, a 
note pad in front of him.  Normally, the watch officers would be present.  
However, they had already received their orders from Tanaka, and someone 
had to keep an eye on things.  
     "Something strange happened here, and I've been as much as 
ordered to butt out.  I don't know about you, but that pisses me
off."  There were low growls of assent.  "We have a planet where a
nebula used to be, a crippled heavy cruiser, a flag officer who is
unstable at best, and no info from StarFleet."
     "A glory-hound like Admiral Kirk may be hiding his incompetence,"
Ko'ta noted.  She had never met the man but trusted Tanaka's 
description of him.
     "For the record, there were sixty-two major casualties aboard
_Enterprise_, and seventeen additional fatalities.  One of these was
Captain Spock, who according to an engineering cadet hot-wired the
dilithium crystals to buy them warp speed at a crucial moment."  Dr.
Valin paused.  "Without radiation gear."  
     Ko'ta couldn't help it; her antennae crinkled at the thought.  
     "I've ordered our intrepid watch officers to pump everyone from
_Enterprise_ for information.  I want this group to concentrate on
senior officers.  Valin, you get Doctor McCoy.  Reynolds, try for 
Scott if you can.  Ko'ta, take Saavik, Sulu, or both.  I'm going to 
sneak aboard _Enterprise_ and try to steal a copy of her
flight recorder with Grover's help.  Najaf, my aide, is going to mix 
with _Enterprise_ crew and pick up the rumors.
     "How is everything else going?  Doctor Valin."
     "We've got most of the casualties loaded aboard.  Since we don't
have morgue equipment, _Enterprise_ is going to space-bury or store
the dead for later burial.  We'll be able to let some of the crew
move back into their quarters, but for everyone to get a bed we'll
have to hot bunk."  That meant that when one person got up for duty, 
someone else could go to sleep.   
     "Reynolds?"
     "With the new engine, we should be able to make Warp 8.75 on
the way to Earth.  The trip will take sixty-two hours, give or take
an hour for Earth orbital approach."
     "Excellent," Tanaka beamed.
     "Anything else?  OK, go to work."

        
     Doctor Valin examined his surroundings with more than a bit of
envy.  The medical facilities aboard _Endeavor_ were primitive by
comparison.  Of course, they were usually empty.  
     Not so here.  The intensive care ward of the _USS Enterprise_
was still full.  These critical patients would be loaded aboard
_Endeavor_ just before departure.  Valin examined the displays at
the head of each bed, making sure to match a name and face to the
medical statistics.
     The patients here had suffered greatly; engine coolant poisoning, 
thermal and radiation burns, whole-body trauma from falls or gravity 
failures, and/or head injuries.  All had been drugged into 
unconsciousness, and experience informed Doctor Valin that some would
never regain their senses.  
     He stopped at the last bed.  The patient had lost both legs,
neatly severed at mid-thighs.  Miracle she hadn't bled to death.  Valin
glanced at the chart; she had been pinned by a damage-control bulkhead 
that closed snugly across where her legs used to be.  Name: Donna 
Martin.  Face: blissful under a triple dose of endomorphins, under 
more normal circumstances quite pretty.
     Doctor Valin roundly detested the fools who thought that space
battles were somehow noble or heroic.  There is nothing noble about
watching young women and men be torn apart in the sacred name of
politics, or even worse, honor.  During the _Endeavor's_ battle with
the IKV _Glorious_, he had wondered whether the ship would survive
even as he worked feverishly to minimize the damage.  No one had been
killed in that encounter, but two former _Endeavor_ crew were still on
StarBase 4 in long-term recovery.  
     Doctor McCoy entered the room.  His facial expression made him
look twice his age.  He spoke as he approached the bed.
     "Doctor Valin, I presume?"
     "Yes, sir."  McCoy had a reputation in the medical community,
an important one.  Stubborn and compassionate, he was nevertheless
an excellent ship's surgeon.  Valin had read one of the Doctor's
papers on long-duration space medicine and found it excellent.
     "What's your experience in space medicine, Doctor?"
     "Two years aboard _Endeavor_ as ship's doctor, a year at
StarBase 11 as department head of Internal Medicine, six years
before that bouncing from outpost to outpost."
     "Can you care for all my patients on that ship?"
     Valin sighed.  "Yes, Doctor.  _Endeavor_ was designed for
rescue operations and short-term medical transport, among other
things.  Our chief engineer estimates we'll be at Earth in three 
days, and then StarFleet Medical puts these people back together.
I've got the same job as a flight nurse on a medivac shuttle;
keep them stable until we get where we're going.  I'll keep a
close eye on them."
     "Thank you, Doctor."  With that, McCoy turned and walked away.
Valin followed.
     "Would you care to join me for a drink?" Valin asked at the
doorway.  McCoy turned, slowly.
     "There would be no logical purpose to that."  
     Valin shrugged as the doors shut.  He must have had a really
rough time; he may have been up eighty hours straight.  So much for
that proposal.  I'd better check up on the loading.


     "Hand me that spanner, lass."
     Lieutenant Reynolds, chief engineer of the _USS Endeavor_,
bristled inwardly.  How dare you treat me like a servant?  She
decided to humor Captain Scott.
     "Here you go, old man."  She gave him the spanner.
     Scott looked up, startled.  "I'll not have a cadet talk to me
that . . . excuse me, Lieutenant."  His eyes flickered slightly
when he saw her rank tabs and specialist insignia.  He decided to
change the subject.
     "Where did you come from, la...ieutenant?  I thought Ensign
Boki was _Endeavor's_ engineering officer."
     "No, I am.  I was . . . indisposed.  My apologies for not
finding you sooner.  How are repairs going?"
     "Better than I'd hoped.  We'll have warp drive in a few 
hours, with your crew's help.  They're quite good, you know."
     "Thank you.  Do you need any help with that flow regulator?"
     "Aye, I would be most grateful."  The two worked together in
silence for a while, only speaking to ask for a tool or a part.  Ten
minutes later, the regulator was back on-line.
     "Now what, Captain Scott?
     "My friends call me Scotty, Lieutenant . . . ?"
     "Reynolds.  But you may call me Amy if you wish."
     "Well, Lieutenant, now we have to put a fusion reactor back
together."
     "Lead the way, Scotty."


     The bridge of the _USS Enterprise_ was a famous place; more
history had been made here than in many governmental capitals.
Ko'ta was overawed in spite of herself.  
     Of course, it wasn't much to look at right now.  The captain's
chair was empty, and two consoles had melted.  The air still stank
with human sweat, singed insulation, and smoke.
     Five cadets and a Lieutenant were on the bridge.  That would be
Lieutenant Saavik.  At the moment, she was examining the sciences
console.  When she heard the turbolift doors open, Saavik turned
to face them.
     "Welcome aboard, Commander."
     "Thank you, Lieutenant."  Ko'ta froze.  What am I supposed to 
say next?  The truth.
     "I'd like to ask you a few questions about what happened."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Start from the beginning," Ko'ta directed.
     Ko'ta was very thankful that she had a recorder running 
in a rear pocket of her uniform; a violation that, if detected,
would result in a severe reprimand and possibly demotion.  Saavik
summarized the events of the past two days in thirty-five minutes.
     _Enterprise_ had encountered _Reliant_.  _Reliant_ had been 
hijacked by Khan Noonian Singh, and crippled _Enterprise_.  Kirk
had pretended to negotiate long enough to force _Reliant_ to lower
her shields using the prefix code.  Kirk fought off _Reliant_,
then boarded SpaceLab Regula One to find the scientists dead.
They also discovered Captain Terrell and Commander Chekov, both
of whom were under mind-control by Khan.  The surviving scientists
had hidden beneath the planet surface via transporter, and Terrell
committed suicide rather than kill Admiral Kirk at Khan's order.  
_Enterprise_ had been making repairs in the meantime, and recovered 
Kirk's team from the planet.  Kirk engaged Khan in battle and rendered
_Reliant_ a dead hulk.  Khan triggered _Reliant's_ self-destruct
and _Enterprise_ only escaped because Captain Spock put the
warp drive back on line in time to escape.  The effort cost him his
life.
     Ko'ta smelled something very foul.  There were enough holes in
this story to throw a planet through.  Spock would have been on the
bridge, not in Engineering.  In the time it would have taken him to
get down there, the ship would have outrun a matter-antimatter blast 
on impulse alone.
     "Thank you, Lieutenant.  I appreciate your candor."
     The Vulcanoid looked puzzled at this last remark, and Ko'ta
deliberately left Saavik wondering.  Next stop, Commander Sulu.  She 
hoped that he would be as easy to debrief.


     The crew recreation room was empty.  Petty Officer Omar Najif 
shrugged and checked the next one.  Also empty.
     His parents would have heart attacks if they discovered his true 
position in StarFleet.  As the Captain's personal aide, he was a 
glorified secretary and servant.  His letters implied without
directly lying that he was an information specialist.  True enough;
he was also the Captain's personal agent.  He spied on the crew and
fed them information at the Captain's request.  When circumstances
(such as a formal occasion) dictated an opposite-sex escort for
the Commander, he was selected because he would keep his ears open
and his mouth shut. 
     As suspected, he concluded after two hours.  The crew is asleep
or on duty.  No one to talk to.  Then, he heard soft crying and 
turned to investigate.
     Najif flung open the closed closet door and found a female cadet
sitting on the floor.  She blinked and stood, saluting.  
     "Sir, I . . ."
     "At ease, Cadet.  I didn't mean to disturb you."  Najif slowly
turned away, knowing that she would stop him.
     "Sir?"  Najif turned around.
     "Yes, Cadet?"
     "Why?  Why did this happen?"
     "I don't know, and somehow I don't think anyone's going to tell
us.  What did you see?"
     "My battle station is auxiliary control, and I was at the
weapons/defense console.  When _Reliant_ opened up on us, we lost
all external control, but we could still watch the communications.
Kirk ordered an open channel, then the enemy commander, Khan, gave
him sixty seconds to beam over Admiral Kirk and data about some project 
called Genesis.  Our patch-in was blanked from the bridge at this point, 
and the next thing we knew _Reliant_ had lowered her shields and we
were firing.  Why did _Reliant_ drop shields?"
     Najif knew.  Prefix code.  He also happened to know _Endeavor's_
prefix number.  Of course, it happened to be in base 7.  No need to
make life easy for an enemy.  
     "StarFleet senior officers know many tricks we don't."
     "So why didn't Kirk raise shields?"  It was a cry wrenched from
the cadet's soul.  "Why?"
     Najif saw through the question.  Why didn't the cadet override
the bridge controls and raise shields herself?  It would have prevented
many deaths.  That was what she meant to ask.
     "Kirk had his reasons.  We don't have the right to ask, and you
did the best you could under the circumstances.  If you'd raised shields
without bridge authorization, well, you'd have pissed off Admiral Kirk
and Captain Spock.  You had no way to know they'd drop the ball.  It's
not your fault, Cadet.  Try to get some sleep; you'll need it."
     "Aye, sir.  Thank you, sir."
     "Don't mention it."


     Ko'ta shrugged.  Sulu was asleep, like most of the rest of the
ship.  She would never know how lucky she was never to meet him.
     Her mission complete, she wandered aimlessly in the general 
direction of the secondary hull.  No one was awake.
     Wrong.  She heard a noise.  Her antennae flicked to maximum
sensitivity and she identified it as footsteps.  That way.  Ko'ta
moved quickly down the corridor, turned right, then turned left again.
     "Doctor," Ko'ta noted as she read the insignia.  Civilian
scientific, SpaceLab Regula One.  Deep-space laboratory orbiting a
dead moon.  The wearer was a human female in middle age.
     "I'm lost.  Could you direct me to guest quarters, please?"
     "I'm not a crew member on this ship.  I'm Lieutenant Commander 
Ko'ta of the frigate _USS Endeavor_.  I will find out for you."
     Ko'ta opened her communicator.
     "Bridge, punch up the internal charts for _Enterprise_.  
Superimpose my position and give me two routes; one to the _Endeavor_
and one to guest quarters aboard _Enterprise_."  
     "Right away, sir."
     Ko'ta waited for a moment while the comm officer found the 
information, and memorized it when she did.  It was complicated, with
many twists and two climbs up ladders due to turbolift damage.
     "I'll show you, Doctor . . . ?"
     "Marcus.  Carol Marcus."
     "What are you doing aboard _Enterprise_?"
     "They didn't tell you?"
     Ko'ta shook her head, knowing what that meant to humans and
wanting Doctor Marcus' view of events.  She was no Vulcan; lying came
far too easily to her.
     "A man named Khan captured _USS Reliant_, which we were using to 
find candidates to test our . . . project on.  His men boarded our lab 
and tried to capture our project.  Khan tortured most of my friends to 
death, and he got it anyway."
     "I'm sorry, Doctor Marcus.  I did not mean to pry."
     They walked in silence for a few moments.
     "It's all right, Commander.  What is your ship doing here?"
     "We're aiding in repairs, and then we're going to transport
the wounded back to Earth."
     "How many?"
     "Sixty-two wounded, seventeen fatalities."
     Doctor Marcus gasped.
     "Is that usual for a space battle?"
     "No, Doctor.  The ratio of dead to wounded is normally much
higher.  The medical care on _Enterprise_ must have been 
extraordinary."
     "What do you think of Admiral Kirk?"
     "I prefer not to."  Perfect.  Not insubordinate or mutinous,
just effective communication.
     The two stopped talking while they climbed the ladder to
C deck.
     "Your quarters are just around the corner, Doctor Marcus."
     "Thank you, Commander Ko'ta.  Safe journey."
     Ko'ta smirked.  Hope I gave Doctor Marcus something new to
think about.  Now I report to Tanaka.


     Grover was collapsed across his console, asleep.  Two empty
two-liter bottles of caffeinated sugar water lay on the deck. 
The cursor was still blinking on the screen, waiting for orders
patiently.
     Commander Tanaka touched Grover's shoulder.  He did not stir.
She eased him into a sitting position, and Grover finally woke up.
     "Sir!  The program is done, sir.  Doctor Valin has it."
     "No problem, Warrant Officer.  Get your best portable and come
with me.  We're going fishing in _Enterprise's_ computers.  I want
the senior officer's logs, the Captain's log and the supplements,
a full copy of the ship's recorder for the past week, and a damage 
control evaluation of the ship.  Add a full listing of the commands 
issued to weapons/defense, helm, sensors, and communications boards
on the bridge, any transporter coordinates beamed to, and records
of any and all external communications.  One more thing; all 
references to something called Genesis."
     "Yes, sir!"  Grover was as happy as an adolescent seeing his
first X-rated hologram, and ran to grab his tools.
     Armed with a suitcase-sized device more powerful than a 
20th century "supercomputer," Grover and Tanaka boarded _Enterprise_
and took a turbolift to I deck.  The deck was deserted because there
had been no damage here and most crew were asleep.  Tanaka opened
an access plate inside the turbolift and entered the access codes for 
a manual inspection of the _Enterprise_ computer core.  As suspected,
they were the same as the original ones aboard _Endeavor_.
     No wonder StarFleet ships get hijacked so often; if you know one
ship, you know them all.  Tanaka sighed as Grover hooked up his
portable cracking machine and went to work.        
     "OK, no problems with most of it.  The sensor board and the
comm board have some fairly hefty protections on them; I'll have
to take some time to bypass if you don't want the whole world to
know we have copies."
     "Take your time.  This never happened." 
     "Aye, sir."  Grover worked brilliantly, leaving no trace of
his unauthorized presence in the _Enterprise_ computer system.  He
found a thing or two to admire about the comm security system, and
was amazed at the programming skill of the computer specialist who
ran this mess and kept it running.  He would have bet his life that
he had left no trace.
     An automatic program noted Grover's entry and backtracked the
terminal port he was using.  It sent a routine query to the 
sensor substation, to activate the next time Captain Spock logged
on, and followed it up with a mail message to Spock's account.
Finding that the intruder had access codes for the computer core,
the program was authorized to take no further action unilaterally.
     The writer of the program would never read the messages; in
fact, he would never operate NCC-1701's main computer again.  
Captain Spock was dead.


     "OK, we've got all the pieces now."  
     Tanaka was seated at the triangular table.  The senior officers
had just pooled their information and reached a conclusion.  Tanaka
fingered the three data chips still in her pocket and was relieved
that she hadn't had to try and open them.
     Lieutenant Reynolds had reported, then Ko'ta, then Najif, 
and finally Tanaka herself.  Grover had not been given access to
the material he had found; he didn't have the security clearance.
Dr. Valin was in the process of loading the critically wounded, and
he had nothing of interest to report anyway, except perhaps that
Doctor McCoy was behaving oddly.  The three watch officers were
no longer present; they had provided some details but could never
be privy to a secret like this.
     "This is classified.  The _Genesis_ project was intended to
terraform planets into class M environments through scientific
hocus-pocus.  It works; the planet off our starboard bow was 
created by the Genesis effect.  Regrettably, it is also a weapon
of enormous destructive force.  The effect on galactic politics
will be similar to the effects of the discovery of nuclear fission
on Terran history.
     "This investigation is over.  Are there any questions?"
     "What do we do with this information?" Reynolds asked.  
     "Forget most of it.  Be aware of the Genesis potential, and
get this information to Earth as soon as possible.  This information
is so hot that it must be carried from hand to hand, not over
subspace channels."
     "Why didn't Kirk raise shields?" Najif asked.
     "Arrogance, according to the ship's recorder.  He wanted to
show off by ignoring Lieutenant Saavik's advice.  It has cost him
his career."  The words were final, a death knell for the Admiral.
     "Unless he saves the planet Earth again," Ko'ta tossed in.       

     
     The three-way monitor in the center of the table lit.
     "Sir, we are clear for departure," Anetsky reported.
     "Plot course for Terra and execute, Warp 8.75."
     "Aye, sir."  The ship surged and was suddenly in warp space,
bound for home with sad news and a load of human misery.


Epilogue

     He had to be careful.  If he were to be detected, the best he
could hope for would be a firing squad.  More likely would be the
Federation equivalent of a mind-sifter.  Thus, he wore gloves and
made sure that Grover was unconscious before proceeding.  
     Grover had kept copies of the material that had been stolen from 
the _Enterprise_ computers, naturally.  He logged in using Grover's
rather obvious password; no one is more arrogant about systems 
security than a systems security expert, and Grover had never dreamed
that someone on _Endeavor_ would attempt to use the sysadmin login.  
     The files were not concealed, and a few simple commands downloaded
them to a data chip.  He erased any signs of his momentary presence
and logged out.  His knowledge of computers was unknown to the other
_Endeavor_ crew.
     Once he had obtained relative privacy (an empty nook near the
starboard photon controls) he read the first file using a portable 
reader.
     "To fully understand the events about which I report, it is first
necessary . . ."  The voice was Admiral Kirk's, and the spy watched
avidly while a Genesis torpedo lanced out and terraformed a 
simulated planet.  The scene had been computer-generated, but it
spoke volumes.  He must get this out to his contact, at once.


The _Enterprise_ Encounter was written by Andrew Clark, 1992.
I hereby place this story in the public domain.  Star Trek characters
and the Star Trek universe are used for entertainment purposes only and
are the property of Paramount Pictures Corporation.
Full permission to copy this story on a not-for-profit basis is granted
provided that this notice is not removed.  

-- 
clarka@netcom.com     Andrew Clark     My ignorance is my own fault.
"We have virtual reality today: George Bush lives in it." | Bad cop! 
"Macs are to computing what television is to journalism." | No donut! 
This is my summer account: mail to aclark@UCSD.EDU will forward here.

