Epilogue to Episode 2/Prologue to Episode 3

[Amanda Rose]

With the male Orions having been dispatched, a report being sent to Starfleet and Lieutenant Williams having been fixed up by Vodden, Cindy determined that it was time to start exploring again. She tossed her blonde locks to the side and smiled. Wheeler must be stewing and furious that she and Phil had been so successful in such a short time. There was no way that she was going to lose her Captaincy now.

Perhaps, she thought, she should go and play some racquetball and beat up on some overconfident officer to celebrate. Squash with Williams? No. He needed to heal and if she beat him, he would likely not give her the credit she was due given his recent injury. Dinner with Nav? That could be fun. Her mind wandered over to Phil. He seemed rather stoic throughout the entire Vivyra episode. She wished that she could have been a fly in his brain to see what was going on in there. Did he have no desires? Perhaps he was half Vulcan. He was a master strategist.

Fidgeting in her quarters, her PADD beeped annoyingly at her. A transfer request? Vodden. Cindy was less than surprised that Vodden wanted a transfer. Cindy and Vodden got along worse than Cindy and Marian and that was saying something. The base doctor seemed to think that space was run the same way and was extremely predictable. Did she not understand that space was unpredictable and that some rules and regulations had to be bent when the time called for it. Perhaps some might even need to be broken if the regulations did not anticipate the situation. Vodden did not like the fact that Cindy was in her words, "too familiar" with the crew and insisted on informality. Well, good riddance to bad rubbish! Clearly there was a reason that Cindy was a Captain and Vodden was not.

Immediately, Cindy approved the transfer. Less than five minutes later, her PADD beeped again. This time, it was an order from Wheeler. Legacy was to come back to base. Whatever for? We have five years out here! What does that rat have up his sleeve?

Cindy stormed out of her room and headed to Phil's quarters. She rang the chime to his room and impatiently waited at the door.

tag - Phil

[SabrinaPandora]

Weeks of paperwork, seemingly endless interviews, repetitive transmission and retransmission of medical records, testimonies from both Starfleet Medical Psych Division as well as veterinarians and xenobiologists. Miles and miles of red tape that Doctor Rhiannon Ironhooves galloped through, charging like a jouster to reach her objective, which she was pursuing with a single-minded objectivity.

“I just want to go for a run in the forest, that’s all. It is the closest climatic and botanical match for my homeworld on this planet, and I just want to camp out. I will make no fire, I will not harm the forest. I just want a chance to breathe fresh air, to hear the sounds beneath a canopy of great trees and to run free a bit with real earth beneath my hooves. I have served Starfleet faithfully and well even when you stuck me on a duranium can in space, and I have considerable leave acquired. It is a protected woodland site, and I swear I will respect it.” Over and over she explained her rationale while spending her days in the Starfleet Medical library, reading up on the vast storehouse of medical knowledge available. Her grasp of anatomy of known species of the galaxy was nowhere near comprehensive, and the four-legged physician was constantly studying to refresh existing information in her brain while struggling to add more.

Nine years of duty with very little leave time had left her with considerable leave, and she was taking all of it- at least until she could get a decent vacation. And after weeks of fighting and cajoling and trotting round in circles, she had been approved for a camping trip. Beamed down, turned loose and free, she had run for hours through the forest of gigantic trees, feeling the wind in her hair and the sun on her face and being able to run without corridors or humans or anything tethering her.


Gingerly she reached out her hand toward one of the great old trees as she reached out with her soul. Ancient wizened ones, can you hear me? Is there yet magic still on this world?


The priestess received no answer. If there was magic as she knew it here, it did not live in the wood. Or perhaps it deigned not to speak to her, or she could not hear its voice. Many things were possible. Nodding to the tree she formed her hands together into a prayer ritual gesture and addressed it. Thanks to you for harboring me on your world full of humans. You have been a gracious hostess, though I wonder about your children.

Trotting, dancing, hopping nimbly about, running broken field amongst the trees, dodging other tourists and a study group, Rhiannon Ironhooves had a wonderful day, and she might have run into the night if not for the sudden insistent chirruping of a communicator in her saddlebags.

The equine officer’s nose twitched and she cantered around one of the great ancient trees of Earth, doing her best not to snarl as it intruded on her once more. “I’m on leave. As in ‘leave me alone,”’ Ironhooves snorted as she broke for the treeline, picking up speed on her way to the clearing. Nimbly she dodged the smaller obstacles in her way, moving with a surprising gait for a dam her age.

Upon reaching the clearing she charged ahead into a full gallop, the prairie adjacent to the Sequoia Preserve ample for her needs. Reaching nearly 88 kilometers per hour the Arborian alien could still feel the vibration of the communicator in her saddlebags, which she tried to ignore as she opened up and covered some distance like an olympiad. The four-legged physician was born to run, and to an observer it was a beautiful sight to behold.

That Starfleet wanted her on starships was an inadvertent cruelty, though one she was learning to bear.

“I can’t lock onto her sir. She’s really moving fast, and unpredictably. She isn’t really going in a straight line either. The terrain is very varied in height and... it’s very hard sir, we’re trying.”

“Comms?”

“Still not answering our hail, sir. We can’t be certain if she even has a communicator on her unless she answers.”

“It is on leave, sir. Perhaps it thinks-”

Admiral Wheeler stroked his thin beard. He never believed that Captain Jackson or Commander Wilson would stand a chance out in space. The first incident with the Romulans and Klingons, he had to give credit to the Legacy on their figuring out the plot. However, that credit likely went to Wilson. Strategy, as proven by Captain Jackson’s grades was not her strong suit. The Orion affair, though, was either brilliant or Captain Jackson was lucky. Perhaps it was a combination of the two?

Regardless, Wheeler remained convinced in his determination that Captain Jackson was not yet qualified to be a Starfleet Captain. She was quirky, insisting on her crew calling her either Cindy or Captain Cindy. She was one of the boys and yet, exceedingly feminine. However, there were those that disliked her, like the previous Chief Medical Officer, Vodden who had some unflattering reports of the Captain. Despite these reports, she seemed to be well liked by much of the crew. Why? Was she competent to be a Captain or was she ruling as some sort of collective, in which case she would most certainly fail. He had to find out. A neutral, objective party with, perhaps the correct influence- hence, he had arranged for the transfer of Lieutenant Ironhooves.

“I do not care WHAT she thinks,” he replied harsher than he intended. “What I care about is that either you reach her on that comm or you bring her here. Am I clear?”

“Yes sir. Hailing her comm again….”

Pulling up short, skidding to a halt as her ironshod hooves dug into the packed earth, the cranky centaur fumbled about in her saddlebags for the communicator before fishing it out and hefting it in her palm. For a few long seconds she considered throwing it over the cliff before her, or simply dropping it in the dirt then trampling it into faxable broken bits of metal and plastic. Not even one day could they give her to herself to be free and happy, it seemed, and it was decidedly unfair.

But she was light years from her home, and likely she would never return to it without Starfleet- not like Arboria was exactly on a heavily traveled route. And to be fair she had sworn an oath, and her word was her bond. Sighing heavily she flipped open the communicator, and stated flatly, “What?”

Just as a transporter effect took hold, as she had finally stopped moving long enough for the transporter chief to get a fix on her and beam her out.

Wheeler gave the startled Lieutenant Ironhooves a bemused look when she appeared on the transporter pad before them. Transporting moving objects was new to the Federation but they had quickly adopted the technology well. Giving a small chuckle of satisfaction, he told Ironhooves, “So good of you to join us. I trust we did not impose too greatly upon your free time?”

“I am on leave... Admiral,” the equine officer snorted, stepping off the transporter platform with her forelegs, which caused reverberations throughout the deckplates as she did so. It was a sound not unlike distant thunder when heard from a few decks away. In the small confines of the transporter room, the iron horseshoes rang out in quite sharply when she stepped. The thick rubber covers she usually wore to prevent her from making so much noise were absent, which she subtly reinforced by hopping her hindquarters down, impacting the deck for a much louder cavitation that reverberated throughout the vessel. Snapping her communicator closed and sliding it into a saddlebag the cranky centaur stepped into the admiral’s personal space to eyeball him.

Ironhooves breath was hot as her nostrils flared and Wheeler took notice of her annoyance. However, he refused to back down and looked her back straight in the eye. “Yes, you were. But your ship will be here tomorrow and I thought that you might need a briefing. What do you know about the Legacy and its Captain?”

“My ship,” she snorted derisively then whinnied a humorless laugh. “Whatever genius at Starfleet decided that putting me of all sentients on a starship was truly the greatest mind in the Federation. I have a hard enough time in your human hospitals, and you want to put me on a starship where I don’t even fit into half of the turbolifts.” The glowering granddam had stood her ground as well, nostrils flared even as one of her forelegs pawed at the deck.

“I don’t know anything about your Legacy or her captain, whatever member of the boys club you might have chosen. I expect it will be even worse than my last duty and the captain even more incompetent than Chase,” the four hundred kilogram Kutachi admitted, tail switching in annoyance as she eyed the admiral, who had not budged an inch- yet neither had the leggy lieutenant.

Wheeler smiled at Ironhooves calling Legacy’s Captain 'incompetent'. Restraining showing his teeth in a wider smile, he simply replied in a knowing tone, “I am the genius at Starfleet that decided to put you on that ship, Lieutenant. I do appreciate the difficulties that it imposes upon you. However, I have something in mind I would say that you are perhaps the most impartial person or centaur, if you prefer, in all of Starfleet. Would you not agree?”

That earned him a braying laugh, which was then followed by consideration. The large lifeform stepped back from the admiral, and as her arms crossed one hand stroked her chin in thought as she began to pace. The reverberations in the deckplates were considerably lesser than when she had hopped off the transporter pad, but they were still quite palpable.

“I have no political agenda, since I don’t care for rank nor position. I’m mature, and perhaps not level-headed but experienced and wise. I am from outside your culture, so I have no real preconceived acceptances and thus would be unwilling to overlook cultural aspects of humanity. Claiming me as the most impartial sentient in all of Starfleet,” she stressed the word to impress upon the admiral the correct term, seeing his ploy for what it was yet still taking advantage of the moment to educate before she continued. “That would likely be an exaggeration, but I imagine I am close enough to fit the task for which you’re currently flattering me before you corral me into it. Breaking the mare to the rope, as it were.”

Clearly she was not completely culturally ignorant of humanity, or her own world had remarkably similar development.

“And you are a doctor. I presume that you are well studied on human functions. Would that be an accurate statement?” He pulled out a PADD and started looking at the doctor’s Starfleet Academy record.

”It would. I have served as a practicing physician with Starfleet for three years now, one of which was at Starfleet Medical. Humanity is still the clearly dominant race in Starfleet, thus human anatomy, physiology and psychology are abundantly documented and easily accessible by Starfleet records. I have studied the humanoid anatomy and failings quite extensively,” she added, tail switching a bit nervously. While there were some who were savants, the heavy hooved healer was not one of those. She studied and worked hard to learn the alien sciences, and little of it came easily or naturally to her.

As was her nature, the alien anatomist bluntly stated what was on her mind. “You prance around the point, Admiral, but you’ve yet to put your, ah, foot down. What is this about?”

“Prance?” The Admiral asked. “That is an amusing pun, if I do say so. It also might be how I would describe Captain Jackson on the bridge of the Legacy.” He straightened himself up, walked a few steps away from Ironhooves and turned back to face her.

“To be blunt, Lieutenant, I am concerned for the welfare of the Legacy. I am concerned about Captain Jackson and her Executive Officer, Commander Wilson. He was her professor. His health was compromised on an away mission. He walks with a limp to this day and I fear for a potential trigger in a stressful situation whereby he might not be competent longer. Captain Jackson, herself, well, I will let you judge for yourself. After the incident at Vulcan, we did have to make a number of difficult decisions. Rebuilding the fleet has not been easy. We are still low on our ships and personnel, as I am sure that you are aware. While the board deemed them fit for service, I believe it may have been done under a sense of duress. I would like you to evaluate them and the safety of the members of that ship.”

The lips of the Kutachi healer narrowed to one corner of her mouth as her eyes half-lidded dubiously. “I am a doctor, not a... counselor,” Ironhooves guessed at a position that did not exist in the current model of Starfleet. “If they are ill, irradiated, injured or diseased, I am their best hope. But the human psyche I know as much as anyone. The human heart is an unpredictable thing, capable of kings living with cowardice or thieves nobly sacrificing for the greater good. I can judge her fitness for command, aye sir.”

“You’ve spoken with some air of disdain and you wish to send me to evaluate.the captain and crew of the Legacy. What is your actual objective in this Admiral?” The equine officer asked bluntly, prepared for lies and subterfuge but open to the possibility that the man might tell the truth. Those inhuman teal woodland creature eyes, so similar to but not quite human transfixed the brown eyes of the admiral.



“Not disdain, Lieutenant,” the Admiral tried to reassure Ironhooves. “Concern. Captain Jackson is young and Commander Wilson is a severely injured veteran. I have no objective other than the safety and welfare of our ship and fellow officers.”

The Admiral narrowed his gaze at Ironhooves. “Are you implying something further?”

The lips of the old warhorse curled into a humorless smile. "I imply nothing Admiral. You dragged me here against my will. You laid out the situation as potentially dire, certainly one for which you have considerable concern. You are in a harried rush to impress upon me your agenda, and I am interpreting your words and actions..." The Arboreal anatomist paused before offering, "impartially."

“Then let me impress upon you that Captain Jackson has already had two very serious encounters. One involved the Klingons and Romulans. The most recent involved the Orions. Her previous Chief Medical Officer considers her reckless and immature. She asked for a transfer. She has taken some rather questionable people onto her crew. I need to know what is going on, especially given the nature of Legacy’s next mission.”

"For this you beamed me up against my will from leave? A mission briefing, dire warnings, a medical report I would have read anyway, all over the fact that somehow you seem to enjoy stuffing me into duranium cans in space and you disagree with the choices of one of your starship commanders?" The tone was insubordinate once more, but it was clear that either the heavy hooved healer did not appreciate the admiral's sense of urgency, or she simply disagreed with it.

The Admiral took on a condescending tone. “May I remind you of your position, Lieutenant? Or the needs of Starfleet over any single sentient? You are uniquely qualified for this confidential mission. Are you telling me that your discomfort is more important than the safety of an entire ship of Starfleet Officers, or perhaps even the safety of Starfleet itself?” His eyes and tone clearly dared the centaur to defy him.

Adopting the same condescending tone, the physician shot back, "On an entire planet of almost exclusively humans you could not find one qualified for this task? That seems hard to believe given that until first contact most Earthlings believed that aliens were little more than comical myths. My comfort is not the issue. Your agenda and goals are, and we both know that your surface reasoning is but a hint of the truth."

"Need I remind you, Admiral, that I am a volunteer serving in Starfleet, and that my position is immune to political guilt and manipulation?" Reinforcing that impartiality that the admiral sought, Rhian stepped in toward the admiral once more. Raising children and grandchildren had left her quite familiar with such simple mind games, and being on the receiving end from the admiralty left her less than pleased.

“Volunteer or not, you are held to the same standards, rules and regulations. Or have you forgotten?”

That earned the senior admiral a derisive snort. "As are you, Admiral. If an actual explanation of this situation is beyond you then I can have my resignation on your desk within the hour, unless you plan to return me to my vacation. In which case it will take a bit longer to file it. Or would you prefer to take me to court martial for insubordination, in which case this entire conversation will be openly analyzed by Starfleet Command?"

“You can return to your vacation, Lieutenant. So long as I get reports from you regarding my concerns once you are aboard the Legacy. Once a week will be sufficient.”

No further explanation was forthcoming, clearly. And now she was being instructed- no unlawfully commanded to spy on the command staff of the Legacy in weekly reports. Being an experienced battlefield diplomat the warhorse knew when to press a point and when a battle was pointless and the appearance of capitulation would serve far better. Smiling, she nodded as she gingerly stepped onto the transporter platform.

"Of course, Admiral. As you say," the large life form acquiesced. You are a fool and I look forward to meeting this rebellious captain of yours, she thought to herself. "Your reports will be forthcoming as requested."

Likely full of piss and manure, she mused to herself, but reports he would indeed receive.

[Amanda Rose]

[Sjet]

"Today's fish is sea bass in a lime and coriander sauce. Enjoy your meal."

Keth removed the meal tray from the slot, opened it to double check that it really was the tasty fish, and then put it with the other meal trays. He then hit the button again.

"Today's fish is sea bass in a lime and coriander sauce. Enjoy your meal."

He couldn't help himself and he giggled, which to a human ear might have sounded down right evil but Keth was too enraptured with the mess halls food dispenser to care. You just pressed a button, waited a second, and tasty fish appeared in a plastic box! BHAM!: tasty science! He looked over his shoulder at the other diners in the mess hall, all of whom were busy eating their own meals or talking in their small groups. Gone were the days when Keth got all of the attention when he walked into a room, unless it was the rest room with the little caped human figurine on it.

People still shouted at him when he did that.

He looked back at his horde of plastic boxes, all of them warm and inviting with fishy goodness, and for a second had a profound thought. A machine like this, that dispensed food at a press of a button without the need to actually go and catch real fish, would be very useful back home on Huan. Then again feeding a near 20 billion felinoids was hard enough, even with vertical farming, cloned protein, and orbiting farm satellites in amongst the massive construction gantries. But a machine like this would probably just cause inter-pride hostilities. Obviously not with HIS pride, naturally: they were the level headed rational types tat brought freedom and prosperity everywhere they went. The other prides would use the replicator for similar purposes, but Keth had to wonder if along with making food it could make other things. Like clothes, or medicine...

Or weapons.

But no sooner had the profound implications of removing the limiting factors on population growth and control alighted in his mind, Keth snuffed it out with another thought: could the machine make something other than fish? Could it make...chocolate? He dared not hope to high. He'd been hitting the blue button with the fishy picture on it, so...well there was a yellow one with a fluffy beaky thing on it, and a round pink one with a happy face. He hit that one, as Keth liked smiley faces.

He worked with a lot of pink smiley faces.

"Todays meal is bacon on rye with a slice of tomato, enjoy your meal." the computer said, dispatching a smaller plastic box with what looked like a food puzzle on it. Keth didn't know this at the time, but he and bacon were going to become very good friends. He took his ten boxes of fish, and one bacon sammich, and left for the security office.

After all he was on duty, and this coffee break had taken an hour. Better make sure the other's weren't goofing off.

TAG-Anyone Keth can meet on the way. He'll share his empty plastic boxes with anyone who wants one.

Ensign Keth Soban
Security
USS Legacy
These Little Piggys Will never Be Seen Again

[T-Prime]

TK was getting really sick and tired of waking up surrounded by blue tunics. His ribs still hurt like a bastard. He wasn't 100% sure if he was stabbed or shot, no wait, that was a definitely a stab induced burning sensation in his kidney; serrated too. Asshole.

"You." He groaned at the nurse on duty. None of the other beds he could see were occupied. That could be good or bad.

"Lieutenant?" The nurse asked.

"Casualty report for the Orion ship away team." He demanded.

"Minor cuts, significant bruising, two concussions, and one broken arm, Sir. You were the only serious injury."

Up yours, you green skinned bastards. He thought with a grin.

At least the nurse didn't try to keep him from leaving this time.

[lucasausems]

Luke woke up after a long and well-deserved sleep. Having been in the thralls of some mind-controlling Orion pheromone had left him exhausted and the eight hours before the start of his next shift were far too few to make up for it. He felt very ashamed at how the pheromones had incapacitated him up to a point to where he had been virtually useless to anyone. At least Commander Wilson had still been able to lead, Lieutenant Williams managed to lead an away team successfully. But what had he done? Nothing.... nothing at all. He wondered how everyone would look at him now, Luke the weak-minded...

He took a quick shower, fortunately he felt a bit better after. He decided to try and make the best of it and went out with a bit of confidence regained. As he made his way towards the messhall he spotted Keth carrying many containers of food, balancing precariously on top of each other in Keth's hands...or...claws...paws? Whatever...
The top container was on the verge of falling over and Luke quickly stepped in to grab it in time.

tag Keth

[Sjet]

"THESE ARE MINE! NO ONE SAID I COULD NOT HAVE MORE THAN ONE!"

Lime and coriander sauce went every where, and sea bass fillets went even further. Keth might have evolved from a wise and mighty hunter, but after a few million years of evolution and the last two centuries of dense urban living adding dashes of bleach to the gene pool, sauve was not his strong suit. Strength was his strong suit, which would be the bane of cleaning crew three's work that night as they tried to figure out how to remove a sea bass fillet from the dent in the ceiling.

Keth turned to regard Lucas, his breathing rapid and panicky but it slowed down as he recognised the human.

"Oh! Hi! You know you nearly startled me there." Keth waved off the comment, chest puffing out "Not that we security red shirts get startled easily. We're cool, calm, collect and know what to do in times of stress and...er....strife...erm...you...you have a little...something..."

Keth pointed to the half fillet of cooked sea bass masquerading as a hair piece on Lucas's head. He gingerly reached out and plucked it from his head, before tossing it back without thought.

"HUMM! Tasty fish! Have you tried the replicator? Its this miracle machine that makes food, AT THE PRESS OF A BUTTON! I know! Blows the mind!" he put a arm around Lucas shoulders, leading him back into the literal mess hall "Its almost as miraculous as these little cups of coffee I'm not allowed to have any more. Its like they've found a way to shrink down the coffee to the pure essence, its very spiritual core. I had one of those when I was back on Earth studying, and I didn't sleep for days!"

Two weeks and seventy two hours = 17 days.

"But that's beside the point! You look like a human, you have the right number of legs and whilst you smell of lime and coriander right now for some strange reason I'll assume you are one. But that means you know the secrets of this machine." Keth said, pointing at the water fountain...and then nudged himself a little to the right to point at the replicator. He then leaned in conspiratorially "I happen to know of a good many prides back home on Huan who would make you a prince of industry if you passed on the secrets of this device to me."

Well they'd make Keth a prince: Lucas being a alien and all would just make the issue muddy.

"Now. The blue button makes fish, and the pink smiley face on that looks like a human being makes bacon on Risa sandwiches." the big felinoid pointed to the other buttons "But as for the other colours...well I thought you might help me out on this gastronomic experiment. It'll be an adventure!"

The last gastronomic adventure had ended up with a lot of the food escaping down a toilet bowl after an ill conceived run in with a Chinese buffet. Ah, live and learn.

TAG-Lucas: never startle Keth when food is on the line! But hey, at least your pre-marinaded.

Ensign Keth Soban
Security
USS Legacy

[Amanda Rose]

[Amanda Rose]

[T-Prime]