When Alex Thompson approached me with an idea for a crossover story between The Adventures of Argus and Liberty, my enthusiasm wasn’t exactly at a fever pitch; I hadn't been particularly impressed with the execution of this theme the first time around (in Star Trek: The Next Generation), and nearly turned him down.

However, his youthful enthusiasm swayed me (against my better judgment), and we set ourselves to the task. At long last, you have the results before you.

“Hidden Agenda, Part One”

By Alex Thompson and

Joseph Manno

Teaser

"Shuttlecraft Hawking, you are cleared to land in Bay One."

"Copy that," replied Jonozia Lex.      

"Ensign…" he began.    

"Course laid in, Captain; beginning approach now."     

Lex grinned inwardly. Arkin Jora wasn’t normally one to interrupt him. He forgave the little faux pas, however; she wasn’t the only person a little excited at the prospect of arriving at their destination.      

The small Type-IX shuttle circled Deep Space Five; the always-thoughtful Jora giving her commanding officer a quick look at the station and its environs before docking. There were certainly some interesting sights: The surrounding space held several experimental starships, most of which were engaged in the laborious process of being put through their paces.The results here would mean either an ignominious end to the particular project, or an immediate conversion of some hitherto unwitting facility to mass production of that specific type.      

One in particular caught the captain’s eye: the USS Prometheus, a ship he’d been aboard a year-and-a-half before. Her nacelles were dark; she faced an uncertain future with the end of the Dominion War.   

The shuttle finally angled away from the sleek cruiser, and aligned its approach to the Sovereign-class ship docked at the station.     

The little vessel finally touched down with the precision that Lex had come to expect from Argus' helmsman. Her skills had been semi-legendary even before her graduation from the Academy: On her very first training flight, she’d taken it upon herself and responded to a sudden distress call; even though she’d been piloting the underpowered, overworked little sky-blue training pod first-year cadets had for years affectionately called ‘Herbie.’ It had been intentionally designed so that you couldn’t do much in it , to prevent young hotshots from getting into too much trouble on their first unescorted solo flight.     

Of course, no one had told Arkin Jora that.     

She’d nearly burned out the engines of the little craft rocketing towards Io, where a group of freshman cadets in their training shuttle had stumbled upon one of the last remaining relics of the Earth-Romulan conflict—an old-style nuclear device. Their simple sensor sweep had been enough to activate it ... and they’d been far too close to avoid its effects.     

Jora and the shuttle’s pilot, an infamous young Orion named Parihn, had come together in what was later described by the helmsman of the approaching starship Repulse as “a maneuver of impromtu brilliance”: They’d docked in mid-plunge, and, using engines aboard Herbie as a booster, were able to stabilize the shuttle just long enough for their rescuer to swoop in and beam them all to safety.     

Needless to say, Lex was looking forward to meeting Ensign Parihn.     

The rear door of the shuttle slowly lowered to reveal Kate Sheridan patiently waiting for her former captain and shipmate to disembark. When Lex had last seen his former tactical officer, she'd been wearing the gold of operations. Now she was adorned in the red of command, and Jonozia thought that it fit her to perfection, both literally and figuratively.     

"Permission to come aboard?" Jora inquired.     

"Granted. The captain extends his personal greetings, sir, and invites you to partake of the Liberty’s hospitality." Sheridan seemed a bit formal, perhaps remembering the final moments of her last encounter with him.     

"If you'll follow me," she continued, "I'll escort you to the ready room."     

Jora seemed upset by the seeming standoffishness of her former shipmate.

Then, again, she’s not familiar with the circumstances of Kate’s departure, Lex thought.     

Sheridan then surprised them both.     

"You’re dismissed, Ensign. I think you’ll find what you’re looking for on holodeck two."     

The young Bajoran’s initial look of confusion broadened into a smile, and she replied, "Yes, ma’am."     

Jora practically sprinted across the bay.     

As he and Sheridan made their way towards the turbolift—somewhat more slowly than had the excited ensign—Lex attempted to break the ice.     

"So, what do you think of Captain Mantovanni’s command style?" he asked after a moment.     

"Different" was at first her only reply.     

It is that. "Go on."     

"It’s ... unnerving at times. I’ve known very few commanders who seem to understand their people’s abilities and weaknesses better than they do themselves. I could never do what he does ... yet he always gives the impression that what you yourself can accomplish is just as extraordinary, if not more so.     

"Sera MacLeod once told him in a briefing that a certain scientific breakthrough was ‘essentially impossible.’"     

Oooops, Lex thought. That’s the wrong thing to tell the captain.

Sheridan continued, "He told her, ‘I don’t care that it’s impossible. You’re a genius ... make it possible.’      

"And damned if she didn’t have a solution not two hours later.     

"You never know what he’s thinking, yet you’ll always know where you stand." That last was said with particular emphasis.     

Ouch. That had clearly been an oblique shot at her sudden departure from the Argus. He took it in stride, though; even when something was for someone’s good, that didn’t mean they had to like every aspect of it.     

She made a few more comments, but Lex found himself watching her more than listening.      

Her hips had started to sway slightly.     

Oh, dear... I remember when Cicero had the same effect on Saren, once.

Kate’s smitten with her captain, I think.

She was saying "–ny cases he's able to outmaneuver his opponent with disdainful ease."     

Lex had a sudden insight. "You've played chess with him."     

Sheridan looked back with a sheepish smile as she pressed the call button. "Yes, Captain."     

"Don't worry," he chuckled reassuringly.     

"I've never beaten him either."

Act One

Commander Michael Rudman sat back in the center seat of the USS Argus and surveyed what was, for the moment, anyway, his Bridge. While he’d never thought himself a megalomaniac—and, evidently, considering his psych profiles, neither had Starfleet—the actuality of command was a feeling of which he’d never gotten tired, and didn’t think he ever would.     

The current mission, however, was beginning to test that opinion.     

For over sixteen hours, they’d been searching for even a trace of the two missing ships, without success. The area wasn’t one in which they felt particularly at ease, either. The Karri sector was in one of the small segments of space that comprised the Federation’s Beta Quadrant territories; in addition, Argus was very near what cynical Starfleet members had labeled the ‘Borg Corridor,’ since both of the invading cubes had passed this way while on course to Earth. All in all, it wasn't an entirely pleasant place for even a Sovereign-class starship, let alone the two lightly armed science vessels that had been out here, unescorted, during a war.     

Of course, Rudman thought, this isn’t exactly a strategically vital sector; more like the middle of nowhere.      

Then again, almost everywhere is somebody’s home.

Hoping for a report that would differ from the last ten he’d received, he addressed his science officer—who happened to be the captain’s wife. "Anything, Lieutenant Parker?"

She looked up from her console. "Still nothing, sir."

Damn. They were both well aware that search-and-rescue missions were often fruitless; however, it was frustrating to start out with such hopes, and have them leeched away by the tedium of chronic failure.     

"Keep at it, Lieutenant."     

"Aye, sir." Sara hadn’t seemed pleased when Lex had departed; she too, was friends with Luciano Mantovanni, and had been very much looking forward to seeing him again, when they’d received these orders. Her sense of duty had demanded she remain to head the science department’s efforts in the search: After all, who knew whether or not it would be her expertise that would mean the difference between success and failure?     

Rudman, who very much appreciated her skills, was glad she’d remained.     

"Sir."

Simok, who had just emerged from the turbolift, continued after Argus’ current commander had turned to face him.     

"I believe it is time you had some rest."     

"Is that your delicate way of saying you're here to relieve me?" asked Rudman with a smile.     

Simok cocked an eyebrow. "Indeed. Regulations require that no officer command for longer than twelve hours in a non-emergency situation without a four-hour interval of rest. It has been 12.17 hours since you arrived on the bridge."     

Rudman grinned good-naturedly. "Very few officers actually follow that particular stricture."     

The Vulcan was implacable. "I am certain Dr. McDonald would take exception to your seemingly cavalier disregard of medical protocols."     

It wasn’t a good thing to say.     

Everyone, at that point, seemed suddenly to have something else at which to look.     

Rudman’s smile faded into a hard glare.     

He stood, and nodded in seeming agreement. "Very well. Lieutenant Dulmis?"     

"Sir," came the prompt response from Ops.     

"You have the bridge. Simok, I’d like to see you in the observation lounge."     

Cassaria, unbidden, stood and followed them. Rudman shot him a look, but did nothing to prevent it.

When the door had closed behind them, Argus’ current commanding officer turned like a banking cruiser, and opened fire.

"I’ll only say this once, Simok, since I’m not as forgiving as Captain Lex: Don’t ever mouth off to me like that again, or that’ll be the last bridge watch you stand until you’re promoted to full commander. Got it?"

Simok promptly replied, "Permission to speak freely, Commander?"     

"Denied," Rudman snapped. "Find something to do in engineering; Dulmis will your take your watch on the bridge. Dismissed."

The Vulcan turned, and without a further word or gesture, left the lounge.     

"Was that the best way to handle the situation?" Cassaria asked quietly.     

"Probably not," Rudman admitted. "However, there are some officers, unfortunately, that need to be slapped down for their own good. Simok is definitely one of them. The guy’s an officious ass."     

"But a good engineer and a competent officer."

"He needs to learn the difference between giving orders and leading, Counselor."     

Cassaria unhesistatingly responded, "Sounds like something a good X-O will eventually teach him."     

Rudman smiled. "Noted."

Even as they reemerged onto the bridge, Sara turned and announced, "Sir, I've got a reading. It's a Starfleet F-O-F signal from the USS Meridian."     

"An F-O-F?" Rudman echoed. He moved to the science station, curious.      

The Friend-Or-Foe signal transmitted by starships was designed as a short-range beacon; its nominal range was about a light year.      

However, since the Argus' sensors covered well over fifteen light years, there should have been some other indication before now that the ship was out there.

"Yes sir," Sara replied, working the controls with her customary skill. "It seems to have been amplified.     

"She’s six light years away."     

"Well, let’s go take a look. Ensign Martinez, set course to rendezvous with the Meridian, warp seven ... bridge to Dr. McDonald ... we’ve found one of the missing ships ... please be ready to receive casualties, if necessary."     

"Sickbay ... we’re ready down here."

Argus dropped out of warp and sidled up beside the Meridian. The little Nova-class looked much the worse for wear: Scorch marks blackened sections of her hull, and her running lights were extinguished. As a matter of fact, nearly the entire vessel was dark. She seemed to be a lifeless derelict.     

"Looks like they lost one hell of a fight," observed T'Kare.     

"But who with?" wondered Rudman. "Can we hail them, Lieutenant?"     

"Not without a two cans and a string," Sara muttered. More loudly, she added, "Their communications array has been destroyed … and I'm not sure there's anyone there to answer us anyway."     

"Life support? For that matter, life signs?"

Dulmis checked. "Minimal … and uncertain, respectively."

"Bridge to engineering ... Simok, take a small away team and beam over to the Meridian," ordered Rudman. "Set up a link so we can download the data from their main computer, and see if you can find any clue as to what happened over there.     

"Starfleet Command wants the information they gathered on the Hirogen communications array … and I want to know what happened to that ship."     

"Understood, Commander," replied the engineer. "Lieutenant Parker, report to transporter room three."

"Good hunting," Rudman offered.     

"The hunt’s over, sir," she told him, grimly. "Now the actual work begins."     

The first thing Sara Parker noticed as she materialized on the bridge the Meridian was the air.      

It was stale.      

That simply shouldn’t be, she thought. Even with life support running at a bare minimum, the system should have kept the air more breathable and the temperature higher than just a few degrees above freezing.      

The exterior lights weren’t the only ones out, either. Every console she could see was dead; even the emergency panels had faded to a barely noticeable luminescence.     

In fact, the brightest source besides her palm beacon came from the running lights of the Argus shining through the bridge dome.      

There has to have been some sort of catastrophic systems failure, Parker thought.     

What happened here?

Simok materialized in main engineering, and glanced about in disapproval.      

Situated a mere six decks from the bridge, it was only half the size of that on a Defiant-class ship. Since science was the main function of the Nova-class, engineering wasn't considered to be much more than the home of the warp core.     

Illogical, he thought. Quite an imprudent arrangement.

Several active consoles lit the room, which also had functioning emergency lights. However, this was insufficient for optimal working conditions, and thus the Vulcan activated his wrist beacon. Immediately, he moved to the closest console and began his labors.     

After a few moments the engineer had called up the information he was after. What he found forced him into an almost immediate decision.     

"Simok to Argus."

"Argus, Rudman here."

"I must report that the warp containment field is unstable. It took severe damage in whatever battle was fought. I recommend the shortest possible stay."     

"Understood," came the X-O’s reply.     

More evidence for the inefficiency of the design, Simok thought.

Sickbay, in contrast, was amazingly warm, well-lit and seemed fully functional; every applicable console seemed active.      

Looks like I got lucky, McDonald thought.     

On several bio-beds lay motionless crew members. She drew her tricorder and moved to the closest one, running the instrument over them.

They're in stasis, she realized after a moment, but a further, more through scan revealed neither a problem, nor the source of the torpor in which she’d found them. She tapped her comm badge.     

"McDonald to Argus."

"Rudman here. Go ahead, Doctor."

"There are five crew members here in stasis. Since there’s no evidence of contagion, I’d like to transfer them back to our Sickbay."     

There was a pause at the other end of the link, while Rudman weighed the risk against the facts thus far presented.     

"Very well, Doctor... but I want level one quarantine procedures."

"Wouldn’t have it any other way, sir," she replied. "McDonald out."

Three minutes later, having coordinated the details with Dr. Gregory aboard the Argus, Jane McDonald watched in satisfaction as the five crew members disappeared in a shower of transporter sparkles.      

She headed into the CMO’s office, hoping the logs could shed some light on what had happened. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary here, either; in fact, if she hadn’t been briefed—and had remained in Sickbay—she’d have assumed from what she’d seen that Meridian was a fully functioning starship.     

What’s that?

Sitting on the shiny black surface of Dr. Urland’s desk was a silvery metallic box no larger than a normal med-kit. The doctor unlatched it, and, curious, flipped it open.     

It was empty.

***

Rudman paced the bridge of the Argus. Something didn't feel right. None of the away team members had reported any active crew, or even dead ones, for that matter. In fact, apart from the five crewmembers in stasis, there was no evidence of the seventy-strong complement that had once manned the ship.     

Simok continued relaying information to Dulmis.     

"The uplink is complete," he reported. "Now downloading the files."

"How long?" he queried.     

"According to these readouts, six minutes," came the disembodied voice of Simok.     

T’Kare interrupted with, "Commander, I'm reading a failure in the Meridian’s primary containment generator. It’s automatically switched to backup."     

"Simok, I'm pulling you out of there."     

"That is unnecessary," came the prompt reply. "I am monitoring the situation; the likelihood of the backup generator failing in the next six minutes is approximately seven hundred..."

Rudman cut him off.      

"We can control the rest from here. You’re beaming out ... now."     

There was a minute pause, then an, "Aye sir."     

"Rudman to McDonald and Parker. It’s time to go, ladies. Prepare to transport back."     

"Lieutenant Parker."     

There was no reply.     

"Sara, respond," he repeated, a little more urgently.     

"Sir," Dulmis interjected, "secondary backups on the Meridian are failing ... they're maybe twenty seconds from a warp core breach!"     

Damn it!

"Rudman to transporter room one. Beam the away team out, now!"     

He calculated how long he could give Chief Hansen before simply leaving, and prayed.

"We've got them."

"Martinez, any heading, warp two, go!"     

The Argus leapt away mere instants before the Meridian exploded.     

For all that she was a small ship, she made an impressive exit.

Act Two

Arkin Jora stood outside the double doors to holodeck two.     

"Computer, describe program currently running."     

"Current program is Parihn One: A dogfight with Tzenkethi raiders in the Angler system, circa 2342."     

Parihn One, eh? I’ll bet there isn’t a Parihn Two. She never was fond of holodecks.

Same as the Academy, Arkin thought. She knew I'd come here, even without Commander Sheridan’s tip.

"Add new pilot to simulation; flying Federation fighter, Peregrine-class," Arkin ordered. "Adjust parameters accordingly."     

The Bajoran entered; immediately, she was gently moved into a sitting position by subtly applied force fields as the craft she’d requested formed around her.      

The Peregrine-class courier wasn’t the best small ship she’d ever flown, but in the hands of a competent pilot, it could certainly hold its own.

In her hands, she knew without pretension, it could do a lot more.     

The skirmish at Angler was a famous early engagement in the Federation's war with the Tzenkethi. A small wing of Peregrine fighters had been forced to defend the system from a sizable task force. The tough little ships had been outnumbered three-to-one, and, despite excellent pilots and foolhardy daring, their losses had reflected that. Somehow, though, they’d held the Tzenkethi back until Starfleet relief had arrived and driven the invaders back out of the system.      

Recreations of the numerous small craft engagements of that war had been favorites of Arkin at the Academy. Parihn, in this one case, had been buoyed along by her friend’s enthusiasm, and had grown to love this particular program.     

Arkin unhesitatingly entered the fray, immediately dispatching two enemy bogeys in the first seconds. Dodging disruptors left and right, she continued to make her way towards the center of the battle, where she found three raiders dogging a single fighter. In an eye-popping maneuver, the fighter stopped dead in space, rotated bow over stern, and fired at her pursuers. Two exploded, but the third’s pilot was no slouch himself: He’d used his own thrusters in a z-plus climb, which allowed him to maintain a weapons lock and deliver several stinging hits on his Federation foe.      

Then, Arkin Jora made her move; coming in behind the raider, she fired a barrage at the one-man craft. Its shields gave momentary resistance before winking out of existence—swiftly followed by the ship they’d failed to protect.     

She waited for a moment to see if Parihn would respond to her rescue with some ... make that any ... thanks. When none were forthcoming, she decided to introduce herself.     

"Where’s the gratitude for saving your butt, Verde?"     

The comm was silent for a moment. The Orion was never at a loss for a rejoinder, though, and this occasion was no exception.     

"Allow me to explain, Wrinkles... " she replied tartly. "I specifically set that up so that you’d finish off bogey number three without me having to take any hits."

"Hrrrmphh," Jora grunted. Parihn was not one with whom to rashly engage in a battle of wits. She tended to make you feel like your armaments were antiquated.     

"After all, perfection isn’t too much to ask from you."

Such a compliment, though, was quite a rarity, and Jora was startled into silence.     

"Computer, end program."

The two officers alighted on the floor as the familiar blue-and-black grid pattern of the holodeck emerged.     

"Why'd you do that?" asked Arkin. "It was just getting interesting."     

"Because you’re the only woman in the Federation who’d rather talk over a dogfight than drinks," replied Parihn. "Come on. There’s a bottle of Romulan ale with our names on it in my quarters. Time to tell me about whatever boy you’ve gotten yourself all worked up over now..."

***

Despite the fact that he commanded a vessel of the same class, Lex found himself suitably impressed with his mentor’s command.     

Though there were many stylistic contrasts, and the ambience of the two ships was noticeably different, there was no question she was one of the Federation’s finest vessels, manned by a crew that was—in his admittedly biased opinion—second only to his own.     

After their brief tour, Kate had led her former captain to the ready room door, and knocked gently.      

Lex smiled to himself; she’d picked up another of Mantovanni’s little quirks.     

"Yeah."

In response to that particularly endearing invitation, they entered.      

She announced formally, "Captain Jonozia Lex, sir."     

Mantovanni stood as they entered, a touch of a wry smile crossing his face. Lex saw Kate’s surprise; she’d been serving with her new captain for nearly eight months; he bet she could still count the number of times she’d seen this particular expression on the fingers of one hand.     

A moment passed...      

... and he watched Sheridan slowly come to the realization that her captain had addressed her.      

"Which syllable of ‘dismissed’ escaped you, Commander?" Mantovanni’s legendary delivery, had become, if anything, even more scathingly dry since the last time Lex had last him.     

"Sorry, sir," Kate replied, coloring slightly at her faux pas. Without further ado, she practically scampered out of the ready room.     

"You could’ve been a little gentler, Cicero; that must have been a hard moment for her," Lex scolded, just after the doors closed.     

"She still needs to get over that ‘I wanna know what the big kids are doing’ mentality," was Mantovanni’s easy response. "A byproduct of growing up on a starship the daughter of a... " He selected his adjective with especial care. "…forceful captain." He motioned for Lex to take a seat on the couch, even as he approached the replicator.      

"Tea, Earl Grey, hot, white, double-sweet," he ordered. "Hot cocoa with whipped cream and a cinnamon stick."     

"You remembered my Earl Grey. I’m honored," Lex teased gently.     

"Don’t be.”     

Here it comes, Jonozia thought.      

"It’s hard to forget someone’s affection for repellent crap like that." He handed Argus’ captain his drink, and continued, "English tea ranks with English cooking as evidence that the British Empire wasn’t nearly as advanced as it thought it was."     

Mantovanni’s ready room was, if not exactly Spartan, certainly spare. A pair of swords—an incomparably valuable Vulcan Sha’rien, and a blade of the finest Damascus steel—hung behind his desk on the wall. There were other touches which made it uniquely his sanctum sanctorum; however, it would never be categorized as ‘over-furnished.’     

The utilitarian chess set on the end table caught the younger captain’s eye.     

"You still play?"     

Mantovanni rolled his eyes. "No, Lex ... I’ve been lobotomized."     

Argus’ captain grinned impudently; and that part of him that was Saren observed that her old lover was in rare form today.      

"Well, you couldn't have hustled me this time. I was determined to have a game anyway."     

Mantovanni took a sip of his cocoa, then gestured with the mug in the manner of a toast.     

"Here’s to getting what you want, Captain Lex."

Some people just have your number.     

Lex had been playing chess fairly regularly for almost ninety years. He didn’t like to lose, and the fact that his old commander had beaten or drawn with him every time they’d played still rankled on some level.      

Thus, he’d prepared for this game.     

Taking a page from his mentor’s book, he’d studied the slashing, tactical style Mantovanni preferred, the type where pitfall was hidden by feint, and a trap lay behind every seeming success.     

He’d been ready for that.     

Instead, Mantovanni, for the first time Lex could remember, was playing positional chess.     

He hadn’t been ready for that.     

The game had taken the turn towards quiet force mustering early, before Lex was even aware that that was how it was going to be played. His former captain had advanced slowly, inexorably, and Argus’ commander was beginning to realize that, though material was equal, his pieces had slowly become an unwieldy mishmash.      

Then he saw the mating attack.     

"How did you know?" Lex asked, even as he tipped over his king in surrender.     

"The part of you that’s still Saren would have wanted to beat me at my own game. Thus, I had no intention of giving you that chance."     

Outfoxed by the huntsman again, Lex thought.

***

The lounge was packed. Crew members had crowded in to celebrate the dying hours of 2375, and to remember the hard-won victory over the Dominion. Memories of loss, friends and family both, were put aside in favor of the hope with which people faced its future.     

The war had taken its toll; and, with the exception of the resilient Federation, all the major powers of the Alpha Quadrant were the weakest they’d been in almost a century: Many knew that whatever great threat next presented itself, Starfleet would likely stand alone against it. For the crew of the Liberty, thus, having their own legendary commander standing with one who was well on the way to building his own was an excellent omen.     

The two captains stood beside the lounge's view screen, which now displayed the image of the tower clock in London at one minute to midnight. As across the rest of the Federation, the crew of the Liberty waited to hear the first chime of the year from ‘Big Ben’ as Federation Standard Time clocked into the next year.     

"... five... four... three... TWO... ONE... HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Choruses of “Auld Lang Syme” broke out across the lounge as the crew celebrated the dawn of what they hoped would be a new era.     

After long moments of singing, toasting, and general mayhem, Mantovanni cleared his throat and waited for the throng to quiet as the crew turned their attention to him.      

"As my first official act of the new year, I’d like to commend an individual who, in just a short time with us, has proven herself a valuable officer."     

He turned to his very surprised X-O ... and there was that grin again.      

"It’s my privilege as captain of the Liberty to promote Lieutenant Commander Katherine Shannon Sheridan to the rank of full commander; and by so doing, grant her all the rights, privileges and responsibilities thereof."     

Following his cue, Lex stepped forward and removed the black-filled pip from Kate’s collar; replacing it with one of solid gold.

"Congratulations, Kate," he whispered. "We’re proud of you."

Act Three

Lex walked into the shuttlebay still nursing a hangover from the previous night’s festivities. Things had, at least, gotten a little better: the headache was now bearable and the ship’s lighting was no longer hurting his eyes.     

Much.

He cursed himself for getting too caught up in the party mood of the New Year, missing Mantovanni's switch from synthehol to the real thing at about 0100. The next thing he remembered was waking on the bed in his quarters, still fully clothed.     

In the shuttle bay, the Trill found his old friend—impeccably tailored and looking none the worse for wear in light of the morning’s excesses—waiting by the real reason he was aboard Liberty: A Chimaera-class fighter.     

Lex decided to try and forestall the observation he knew was coming. Before his counterpart could speak, he offered, "I’ve been worse."     

No such luck.

"The ancient Greeks taught as a lifestyle the concept of arete or moderation in all things—even celebratory fervor, Lex."     

Jonozia brought fingers to temples and massaged gently.     

"How was I to know you were going to start plying me with that dark red stuff you love so much?"     

Mantovanni arched a brow. "So you don’t remember throwing a comradely arm about my shoulders and saying, ‘Sure! I love wine!’ His ability to imitate a tipsy Trill was amusing … and vaguely unsettling, as well.     

"You held your cup out to me so many times, Dionysus himself would have thought you a kinsman."     

As Sheridan and Arkin entered the shuttle bay, Mantovanni’s voice lowered to just above a whisper.     

"Don’t concern yourself, Captain. The crews—both yours and mine—saw nothing more than how happy and friendly you were. You lost no respect, and gained regard as a good-hearted fellow ... well, fellows," he amended, glancing at Lex’s abdomen.     

Still looking out for me, eh, Cicero? Argus’s captain thought.     

Lex started looking over the Argus' newest support craft, as the two younger officers joined them. To say the Chimaera-class was impressive was an understatement. Based upon the the template of the Talon-class scout, these little ships could operate with or without a support starship. They were dangerous individually; they were positively deadly in a group, capable of taking on ships many times their size. They were the Federation’s latest response to the Jem’Hadar attack ship, and it was quite an emphatic response indeed.   

"Wow," was Arkin's comment.     

"Succinctly eloquent, Ensign," Mantovanni observed.

"Looking forward to piloting her, Jora?" Lex asked.      

She was practically drooling. "Yes, sir!"

"I think you might have to get in line, Ensign," commented Sheridan. "Captain Lex looks quite taken with the Argus' new toy."     

Lex gave her a sly look, but didn’t protest.     

Instead, he inquired of his young pilot, "Are you ready to go?"     

Sheridan answered for her. "Actually, sirs, we'd both like to request some leave."     

Mantovanni arched a brow and Lex inclined his head slightly.     

Kate began, "I'd like to return to the Argus for a short time..."     

"...and I'd like to remain here," finished Jora.     

Lex smiled slightly. He wasn’t entirely surprised at the turn of events. "Fancy swapping officers, Captain?"     

Mantovanni gestured minimally, indicating both his consent and permission for the pair to depart.      

Sheridan swiftly boarded and in seconds was engrossed in the preflight check; Lex, despite the naughtiness inherent with eavesdropping, lingered near the hatch, listening to his young officer and his old friend.     

"So ... I’ve heard tell you’re one of the best pilots in the fleet."     

Lex, in his mind’s eye, could see Arkin standing proudly straight, and heard her reply, "You heard wrong, sir.

“I’m the best."     

Uh, oh, Argus’ captain thought.     

Mantovanni’s rejoinder both was and wasn’t what she’d expected.     

"Well, I have not one, but two ladies upstairs who could substantively dispute—and in my opinion, refute—that claim, Ensign.”

Lex plumbed his memory, and came up with, in addition to Parihn, Lieutenant Sito Jaxa. He himself would give the edge to Jora over either, but … it certainly wasn’t a foregone conclusion, and his old friend’s opinion wasn’t exactly uninformed.

“So,” Mantovanni continued, “what else can you do?"     

He imagined Jora’s nonplussed expression. "Sir?" he heard.     

"I’m just curious as to whether or not you’re a one-trick pony." With what seemed to Lex an inexorable emphasis, Mantovanni continued, "Now ... what else can you do?"     

He smiled as he sealed the hatch.      

Have fun, Jora.

***

Jonozia Lex was enjoying the flight back. He was putting the ship through its paces, testing its maneuverability to the limits in a convenient asteroid belt: Argus’ captain zigzagged the small ship between the chunks of rock, every so often firing a few phaser pulses to clear the path. He didn’t have an extraordinary eye, however: Several bursts missed cleanly.     

"Nice shooting, sir," observed Sheridan, deadpan.     

Lex looked back at her, startled. "I beg your pardon, Commander?"     

"Nice... shooting," she repeated.     

Lex liked to think he knew those who made up—or, rather, had made up—his senior staff well. This was not the Kate Sheridan with which he was familiar. Her tone spoke volumes, and set off warning bells in his head. Something was off kilter.     

"Commander?" Lex asked, with an obviously leading tone—one that practically invited a frank exchange.     

"Yes, Captain?" she replied, pointedly not rising to his query.     

"What is it?" he spelt out for her. "You've been off with me ever since I came aboard the Liberty."     

There were ways in which Kate reminded Lex of Mantovanni eighty—or, in his reckoning, ten—years ago. She had the same steely resolve, and that innately tactical mind. She also had his tendency to internalize her feelings, but didn’t have the Vulcan upbringing to explain or excuse it.     

"Captain, may I be honest with you?"     

Uh oh, thought Lex.      

What he said was, "Always."     

"I didn't appreciate being uprooted without warning and dumped into a critical situation on an unfamiliar ship."     

Ah. So she’s still bothered by that.

Lex put the ship on autopilot, and turned. "It's called being a Starfleet officer, Commander," he replied. "You don't have the luxury of deciding where you're sent. That's for the chain of command above you."     

"In other words, you."

There was an edge of something none too respectful there. He chose to ignore it.     

"Yes," he confirmed. "In other words, me."

"With all due respect, sir, the way you handled my transfer to the Liberty was out of order."     

Lex didn't rise to the tone. Instead, he took a page out of Mantovanni’s book.      

"And your time there has been that appalling?"     

"That's beside the poi–"     

"I asked you a question," he interrupted sternly. "Let me clarify it, though. Has the time there been helpful to your growth as an officer, or a hindrance?"     

Kate Sheridan had many of her mother’s qualities as well. Fortunately, somewhere along the line, she’d acquired the ability to concede when she was wrong.     

"Helpful, sir," she admitted. "Very helpful."

"Do you wish you'd never been assigned there?"     

She exhaled slowly. "No, sir. It’s been a wonderful experience."     

"Then quit complaining. A smart man I know once told me, ‘Righteous indignation requires that you be right.’     

"Care to take a guess as to who said it?"     

Kate sat down, all the wind having been knocked out of her argument. "No, sir."

***

Three hundred thousand kilometers behind the small scout, she followed.      

Her small ship was completely undetectable by the sensors of the era in which she traveled; its black hull reflected any scan applied to it. The two people in the ship she shadowed didn't need to know she was here, observing events as the Council had ordered...      

... so they wouldn't lose him again.     

She knew more than anyone that the near future was a crossroads, a point in time which would have implications for years to come; and no matter how it went, she had orders not to intervene...      

... unless, of course, he strayed from the path.     

"Ship," she queried, "current incursion factor, Commander Katherine Sheridan."     

"Fifty percent."

It could still go either way then, she thought to herself. No wonder they had a go at her.

She looked at her screens again. The scout had obviously just switched to autopilot. She checked the chronometer.     

Time for someone to get chewed out, I think…

Ancient history.

***

The fighter dropped out of warp 60,000 kilometers off her soon-to-be home vessel’s port bow and opened hailing frequencies.     

"Argus, this is Captain Lex, requesting permission to dock."     

"Welcome back, Captain," came James Dulmis' voice over the comm. "You're cleared to dock in shuttlebay two.

"Commander Simok would like to meet with you at your convenience."

Hmm.

"Simok? Where's Commander Rudman?" Lex asked.     

"The commander ... says he'll explain everything once you're aboard."

"Very well," replied the captain. "I'll meet him in my ready room. Out." After he cut the channel, he murmured, "That’s rather odd."     

"Maybe Simok’s finally staged that mutiny I always suspected he was planning," Kate joked. "I can just hear him now ... ‘This is the captain. All expressions of humor are now restricted to off duty hours, since they are illogical and a waste of energy which could be put to more productive use... ’”     

Lex laughed. "That’s not exactly professional, Commander ... but I’ll overlook it in this case.     

"Good to have you home, Kate—if only for a while."

***

A few moments later they touched down and disembarked. Lex immediately checked the guest suite listing and supplied Sheridan with some temporary quarters, and then headed for the bridge.     

He found Simok in the center seat. It wasn’t a place he preferred to have him.     

"Commander." Lex motioned to the ready room.     

"Certainly, Captain. Mr. Dulmis, you have the conn."     

Lex let the doors close behind him before he turned to face his chief engineer.     

"Report."

Emotionlessly, Simok began, "We've been experiencing some ... problems, Captain."     

"Define ‘problems,’ please."     

His litany was all the more disturbing for being delivered in that unnerving calm.     

"The main deflector is offline," he relayed. "We also lost several crew members in a hull breech on deck eleven—including Commander Rudman. Repairs are underway, but the deck has been sealed off."     

Lex could only gape for a moment, dismay warring with simple astonishment on his face: Simok had been just a little more than blasé in his statement about the death of his immediate superior. Argus’ captain weighed the possibility that he was simply overcompensating in some rigidly Vulcan fashion.      

Then he reviewed the facial expressions of the crew as he'd entered the bridge. They hadn't seemed like people who’d lost their most senior officer, and a number of shipmates to boot, in the last forty-eight hours.     

"How did this happen?" he asked, attempting to puzzle through the influx of weird and tragic data, delivered by an officer who seemed little better than an automaton.     

"We were attacked … but they are no longer a threat."     

Lex was getting more than a little weary of this; it certainly seemed as if Simok was being purposefully vague.     

"Commander," he snapped, "I want more information than 'they are no longer a threat.’ Who were they?"     

"A Starfleet vessel," he replied promptly. "However the ship was not on file. We were unable to report the incident, since long range communications are also down."

It seemed as if the teeth pulling session was almost over. Just to be certain, though, Lex added, "Anything else?"     

For the first time, Simok showed a trace of animation.   

"Yes, Captain.      

"Your wife was critically injured, and is in Sickbay."

***

Jonozia looked at Sara’s motionless body on the bio-bed. He wanted to reach down and hold her, to tell her everything was OK, but was prevented from doing so by the stasis field that enveloped her, protecting her from certain death.     

"How did this happen?" he asked Dr. McDonald.     

"She collapsed while aboard the USS Meridian. We've yet to discover why.     

"What we do know is that the stasis field is preventing any further deterioration. We found five similar cases aboard the other ship."     

"Are you saying there's a disease loose aboard the Argus?"     

"No, sir," McDonald denied emphatically. "Sara’s is, so far, the only reported case … and she’s been isolated since before she was beamed aboard."     

Kate Sheridan entered Sickbay, "Captain, I need to speak with you."     

"Doctor. I’ll need to use your office." It wasn't a question.      

Lex attempted to temporarily bury his feeling for his wife, but didn't succeed very well.     

After a momentary delay, McDonald smiled and nodded. "Go right ahead," she offered pleasantly.     

Sheridan tapped her comm badge even as the doors closed.     

"I did a little tinkering with my communicator. This should scramble anyone trying to listen in ... they’ll think it’s a carrier wave glitch, and run a diagnostic. By the time it’s done, this conversation will be over."     

"Do you know why deck eleven is sealed? I can't find a reason, and no one will tell me anything."     

"A hull breach, according to Simok." That fountain of information.

She shook her head. "No way, sir. I'm picking up muted lifesigns."     

"Muted?" Lex almost laughed. "Sounds like most things around here."     

Kate’s expression was grim. "Someone's obviously tried to hide the fact that there's someone—a number of someones—down there."     

"How did you discover it? You obviously know more about what’s going on than I do."     

"I tapped into the Chimaera, and used its sensors. They're far more powerful than those of a shuttle or runabout. I also sealed her with an encryption algorithm and voice print. I’ll just say she’s my toy until the official transfer, if anybody asks."     

"The answers to what's going on here may well be down there on deck eleven, sir," she continued. "Maybe even a clue to what's happened to Sara."      

Again he glanced back into the other room, where McDonald hovered over his wife.      

Somehow her concern suddenly seems less than altruistically motivated to me, Sheridan thought.      

"Review the logs for the past few hours, as well as anything downloaded from the Meridian. Use a private terminal that’s not hard-wired into the main computer, so it’s harder for someone to determine what you’re doing. If you find anything more substantial, bring it to me."     

"Aye, sir."

"Good luck, Commander," he murmured distractedly, before returning to Sara's bedside.     

"To both of us."

Kate Sheridan took a deep breath as the doors to Sickbay closed behind her.     

The captain’s a wreck. Sara’s injury has him really thrown for a loop; everything he hears is swimming upstream against his concern for his wife.     

Despite his presence ... I think I’m on my own.

Act Four

Sheridan rubbed her forehead in frustration for the tenth time in as many minutes. Ever since she'd left Lex in sickbay two hours earlier, Kate had been poking around Argus’ database in an attempt to figure out just what was going on aboard her old ship. She'd never realized just how much being part of a vessel’s command structure facilitated any attempts you made at accessing information that wasn’t exactly intended for you. Without that foot in the door, she’d been stymied at every turn.     

"Computer," she began again, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice, "access senior officers’ logs for stardates 52987.4 through current."     

Argus’ main system was nothing if not consistent. As it had already on twenty-three different occasions, it informed her, "Access denied. Level three clearance required."

"Confirm clearance level," Kate gritted. "Recognize Sheridan, Commander Katherine; First Officer, USS Liberty." She then considered her next statement. Almost, she forbore, but then her eyes narrowed, and she decided to proceed.      

"Computer; command override Liberty Alpha Tango Seven Nine."     

The computer considered that for a moment, then replied congenially, "Clearance for Level three access confirmed."

She clenched her fist in triumph.      

That’s further than I’ve gotten thus far, Kate thought, satisfied, and then her mind added soberly, and all I had to do was use one of the command overrides Captain Mantovanni warned me were, as he put it, ‘for the kinds of emergencies that, in the aftermath of which, command won’t remember to ask where exactly you got it … because you aren’t supposed to have it."

"Access senior officers’ logs for selected stardates," she demanded, with more than a trace of satisfaction.     

"Selected files have a security tag attached."

What the–? "Clarify."     

"As per Starfleet Intelligence protocols, any access of these files will be reported to the individual who established the security lockouts, despite command override."

"Gee, I wonder who that could’ve been?" she rolled her eyes skyward.     

The computer, interpreting the query literally, as opposed to the rhetorical question it was, answered immediately.      

"Lieutenant Commander Simok."

Thinking quickly, Kate asked, "Is the security tag triggered by inquiry, or only by successfully accessing the files?"     

Argus’ computer, for once, gave the answer for which she’d hoped.     

"Access only."

"Sloppy, Simok," she muttered. Now she knew that she could get what she wanted; the question that remained was, What did she want?     

How do I get the bloody thing to tell me? Kate pondered.     

"Computer, without attempting to access them, display all files classified by Lieutenant Commander Simok in the last 48 hours."     

The list streamed off the screen.     

Oh, brother. You’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you? I can’t possibly wade through all this. Hmmmmm...     

Got it.

"Now cross-reference with all files given security tags in the same period, and display file names—without attempting to access."

This time, the computer gave her a much more manageable list. The first file classified, chronologically, gave her pause; it seemed unrelated to the logs and other materials beneath it.     

"Computer; title information, if unclassified, on listed file J47F94."

"Real name classified; contents, classified."     

Shoot, she thought. A second later, she snapped her fingers...     

"Computer, from what storage database was that file retrieved?"     

"Starfleet Tactical File Database; subsection Alpha Four: Characteristics of Acknowledged Threat Races."

Kate tapped her commbadge. "Sheridan to Lex."

Nothing.

She repeated, more insistently, "Sheridan to Lex."

A moment later the Trill's voice replied,"Go ahead, Commander." He didn't sound any better for the passage of time.

"Captain, are you alone?"

"Yes."

"I believe I’ll have an idea of exactly what we’re dealing with in just a moment, sir. I think you’ll want me to relay this as I do.

"OK, got it; I’m listening," he replied dully, his voice cracking in a way that gave Kate absolutely no confidence.  

Great. Worrying about his wife has him a basket case. Well, if this doesn’t snap him out of it—whatever this might be—nothing will.

"Computer, display contents of file J47F94."

She skimmed it quickly. 

For a moment, despite her training, she was paralyzed with terror.

"Oh, my God," she whispered.

***

"Commander, I think you should take a look at this."    

Simok rose out of the command chair and moved to stand beside Dulmis at ops.      

"What is it, Lieutenant?"     

"It's Commander Sheridan," he replied. "I don’t know how, but... she's accessed the classified files."     

Simok raised an eyebrow.      

"You’re much cleverer than you used to be, Katherine; learned too much from that abomination aboard the Liberty, no doubt.     

"Lieutenant T'Kare, lead a security team; take Commander Sheridan into custody, and escort her to sickbay. Dr. McDonald will be able to ... help her."     

"Aye sir," replied the Avian. Her wings trembled as she entered the turbolift.     

"What about the captain?" asked Dulmis.

Simok’s only answer was to head for the ready room.

***

As had nothing else, Sheridan’s strangled cry to the Deity got Lex’ attention.

"Kate?"     

The door chime sounded; she heard it over the comm panel, and gasped in palpable fear.     

"Captain, get out of there, now! Use a site-to-site transport ... just get out of there... ! Don’t let any of them near you!"

"Computer, lock ready room door," Lex stated calmly. "Kate, what is it...?"     

A sickening screech caused him to look up.     

Someone was prying open the ready room door with sheer physical strength. Lex could see Simok grinning triumphantly as he forced the agonized pneumatics to give way.      

Realizing a signal could be traced back to Sheridan, Lex deactivated his comm badge. He debated on whether he should make the attempt she’d recommended—a site-to-site transport—but then realized that his duty required another decision.     

"Computer, isolate and deactivate all command functions, authorization Lex Two Six Sierra Eight."     

Lex then drew his phaser and set it to medium stun.     

That should stop even a crazed Vulcan, he thought.     

At last, the doors surrendered completely, and he burst through.     

Lex took careful aim even as Simok charged him, and fired. The beam caught him squarely in the chest.     

It might have even slowed him down; Lex wasn’t entirely sure. Simok swept the weapon away with a blow of his left hand, and with his right lifted and pinned the young captain against the wall like an exultant bug collector might mount a particularly prized moth.     

He smiled again.      

"I have the Bridge."

The comm link was suddenly deactivated.     

"Captain?" she tried. "Lex!"

Her computer system went dead.     

Son of a ... they’ve traced me...

She burst out of the room; for the moment, there was no one in sight. She stopped at a convenient computer panel and pulled up the current situation on deck eleven.     

As one would expect, all the entrances were sealed, supposedly to avoid further leak of the ship’s atmosphere into space. Somehow, considering both of what she’d found in the classified files and the ominous cessation of Lex’ transmission, she didn't quite believe it anymore.     

"Commander!"

Fast approaching up the hallway were Lieutenant T’Kare and two of her security specialists; they didn’t have their weapons drawn, strangely enough, but looked quite confident as they neared her position.     

Sheridan glanced back. Ensign Rimar and two more guards were behind her.      

There was nowhere to go.     

"By order of Lieutenant Commander Simok, I take you into custody." The Avian was panting excitedly in that disturbing, raptor-like fashion. "Please, Commander ... resist us."     

Sheridan tapped her comm badge, and said, "Alpha one on my mark."     

T’Kare shook her head rather patronizingly, and held up a hand as the security teams closed in. She was enjoying the moment.     

"Anything you’ve tried to do with Argus’ main computer has already been anticipated, Commander. You can’t escape."     

Her quarry simply grinned and concluded, "Mark."     

T’Kare and her teams simply gaped as she disappeared in the sparkling shower of transport.

***

That’s not the only computer on the ship, birdbrain, Sheridan thought, as she rematerialized inside the Chimaera.     

A quick systems check determined that she wasn’t alone in the shuttle bay. Her small view screen focused on Lieutenant Gav huddled near the main hatch... considering the little fighter’s alert status, he was no doubt attempting to gain ingress without damaging it.     

Here’s where my command codes take priority, eh, Simok? This is still Liberty’s ship, thank goodness.    

Even as she slipped into the pilot’s seat, she realized that security would be arriving in seconds. Her options were limited by both time and resources; escape was the only one which offered any hope, unlikely though it was.     

Sheridan powered the little fighter. Gav reacted by drawing back in alarm, punching his comm badge and drawing his phaser. She saw him rapidly tapping at its setting button—revving it up to full, no doubt—even as he spoke.     

"Gav to Simok ... I don’t know how, but Sheridan’s in the fighter! Get some security down here!"     

Too late, Gav, she thought. Activating the vessel’s type-VI phaser array, she cut loose with a series of blasts that blew out every fire suppression system in the bay.     

She felt the ship tremble slightly as Gav fired.     

Finding out just how effective that ablative coating is, eh, Porky?

Then, with her final shot, she took out a plasma relay.     

The resultant explosion and fire was like a little piece of hell...

...and precisely what she wanted.

***

Argus’ mainframe did what any efficient computer would. It evaluated the situation according to its protocols. This, of course, took a fraction of a second.

Fire in shuttle bay two, it noted. Emergency protocol one: Activate fire control system ... ineffective; system inoperative, force fields and depressurization equipment damaged ... scan bay for life forms ... one … dematerializing ... no longer in danger from activation of emergency protocol two ... initiate...

Argus lurched to one side, even as Simok dragged Lex out onto the Bridge.     

"Report," he demanded.

Dulmis struggled to maintain his seat and comply.     

"Commander Sheridan’s explosively depressurized shuttle bay two ... the Chimaera is escaping!"     

"Raise shields!" the Vulcan ordered. "That will keep her from—"     

Argus shook again, but this time everyone kept their place.     

"Direct hit from a pair of micro-quantums..." Dulmis began.     

"Prepare to lock on a tractor beam," Simok gritted.     

The ops chief then finished, "... on the facing tractor emitter arraya. They’re down."     

"Good for you, Kate!" Lex roared.     

With an animal snarl, Simok turned and backhanded the captain. The force of the blow lifted him off the deck and up over the railing, to land with what sounded like a sickening crack against one of the back consoles.     

"The Chimaera’s passed through our shields ... she knows their normal modulation, and adjusted the fighter’s to match. She’s initiating evasive maneuvers and trying to power her warp engines."   

Simok ordered, almost casually, "I’m getting tired of this ... lock phasers and fire ... full power." His voice had again acquired that Vulcan disdain.      

A half-conscious Lex realized that whatever advantage Kate had gained, whatever luck she’d had... it had just run out.

***

The fighter rocked and tumbled as the Argus hit her with a phaser strike that would’ve destroyed any other small craft the Federation had ever built. This one, though, was of sterner stuff.     

"Shields offline. Ablative armor down to 17%."

"They aren’t kidding around, are they?" Sheridan muttered.     

"Please rephrase the question," the computer dutifully responded.     

Miraculously, everything was still online.     

However, the spread of four quantum torpedoes Argus fired would change that in seconds.     

Sheridan’s mind became a blur; she seemed almost to be punching controls in a blind panic as the torpedoes eventually caught up with her.

***

Lex nearly wept when he saw the explosion on the main viewer.     

"Got her!" reported Dulmis triumphantly. "Confirmed quantum detonations. The fighter’s been completely disintegrated. Not a trace of it."     

"Excellent job, Ensign Vareth," Simok congratulated, even as T’Kare reentered the bridge, accompanied by a smiling Dr. McDonald. "Pick him up," he continued, pointing to where Lex was struggling to his feet and nursing what looked to be an arm broken in two or three places.     

He cried out in pain as Dulmis and T’Kare, once two of his most trusted officers, grabbed and immobilized him. The discomfort, coupled with the agony of bones grinding together, nearly caused him to pass out.     

"I don’t know what’s happened to you all," he gasped, "but ... Starfleet will stop you..."     

McDonald approached him, smiling.

"If it pleases you to think so, Lex, then go right ahead. However, it is my ... considered medical opinion ... that you’ll soon come about to our way of thinking."     

The doctor leaned forward, even as Simok added his incalculable strength to that of the others.     

The captain’s eyes widened as she opened her mouth again. From the shadows of her throat emerged something he only got a glimpse of ... like a bloated, eager centipede.     

Distorted though her voice was by whatever waited there, he understood her completely ... and screamed at what he heard.     

"Oh, Captain, don’t be that way," she gurgled.     

"Give us a kiss."