USS Sovereign
Alas, Poor FrioDraca!
by Parker Gabriel
(parker_gabriel@juno.com)

Alas, Poor FrioDraca!

THE DAY BEGAN AS ANY OTHER DAY DID FOR CHRISTOPHER THOMAS ROBINSON, WITH HIS EMERGENCE, CLAD ONLY IN HIS LONG SLEEVELESS WRAPAROUND CAFTAN, FROM THE SHOWER STALL BUILT INTO HIS QUARTERS ON BOARD THE SOVEREIGN. He was barefoot at the time, a condition he never allowed himself to be in if he could avoid it. When taking showers, he could not. Let alone for his caftan, which prevented him from being completely naked, he was completely out of uniform, and dripping wet from the water he had used in the shower. Robinson did not believe in sonic showers, and had insisted that his quarters include a water shower when he was assigned there. Nor was it his custom to sing in the shower; he hated the sound of his voice when in the stall. Thus he did not even talk when in the shower. This was not, he believed, a day when he would be called on to conduct surface operations. Thus he decided not to outfit himself in the surface-operation black fatigues issued to tactical personnel like himself in time of war or when the landing parties--the away teams, he hastily corrected himself--had received orders to conduct special assignments.

Robinson headed to the walk-in locker in his quarters and broke out one of his Star Fleet Support Services Section uniforms, with its bronze inner tunic and the bronze stripe ringing each sleeve of the platinum-yoked black outer tunic at the cuff. Then he unstowed hosiery from his shelf locker and broke out one of his pairs of black regulation boots. It was his practice to pull on his breeches first, then his inner tunic and cincture. Next he would pull on his hosiery, to be followed by his boots. He always either carried weapons or had them within arm's reach, for he felt completely naked without them. Thus his next step was always to secure weapons to his cincture and/or wherever else on his uniform they would fit. Finally, he wrapped the outer tunic of his uniform around his shoulders and brought his arms through the sleeves, then secured their front closure. This was a zipper closure, which he had insisted on having installed in all the outer tunics of his contemporary uniforms. Fleet Captain Siandierra Anjulee Beautelier had believed he was a trifle crazy for insisting on that detail, but had not denied him permission.

Securing the communicator badge pin to his outer tunic, Robinson headed towards the hatch of his quarters. Since losing his case in court-martial, he had been required to maintain them unbattened when he was in them, even though he could still keep them dogged and battened when he was not there. But before he could leave, he heard the double pocket hatch undog itself to admit Commander FrioDraca, the Sovereign's Chief Security & Tactical Officer, who had been involuntarily relieved as Robinson's Officer-In-Charge in the same court-martial proceedings after it was learned he had given Robinson illegal orders, forcing Robinson to go over his head to violate them in failure to follow chain of command.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Frio--I thought you weren't my OIC any longer; what brings you here?"

"We've got new orders from Admiral Vosseller."

"The Bold One is at it again?" Vice Admiral Robert Vosseller Jr., who was then serving as the Flag Officer-In-Charge of the Seventh Fleet, had served as President Judge of the court-martial proceedings that had given both men criminal records. Years before he had heard the case titled Star Fleet Versus Robinson, he had been an Intelligence Officer whose code name had been Bold One. "What does he want the Sovereign's dragon to torch this time?"

"A newly-discovered ketracel-white factory."

"Ketra-what?" Robinson was floored. "What is..." he stumbled over the word... "ketracel-white?"

"The doctor may be able to explain this better than I can." FrioDraca gestured inside the hatch. "You'll need your rifle for this job, Major."

"That only makes it worse," Robinson grumbled. "I've always insisted that the purpose of SFMC training was to make the use of it unnecessary." But he picked up his phaser rifle and slung it behind his back, then pulled on the black beret that hanged on its barrel, just before he followed FrioDraca into the passageway. "All I can tell Doctor Who is that this had better be blamed good."

"It will be," FrioDraca tried to reassure him. "Don't worry about that."

* * * * *

In the Sovereign's SickBay, Dr. Michael Keemer was holding a small container filled with some white substance Robinson did not recognize, nor could he have identified it for the life of him.

"This is ketracel-white," Keemer explained. "It's an isogenic enzyme to which the Jem'Hadar are genetically bio-engineered to be addicted, and without which their circulatory systems would fail and their entire genetic structures would collapse. It's often referred to simply as 'white.'"

"I have no idea who these Jem'Hadar are," Robinson confessed, "but it seems to me that any civilization that depends on a race of drug addicts to fight its wars would have to be an extremely cowardly one, even if that drug is vital for their continued existence."

"That particular point of view is the general view the Federation takes of the Founders, so you're not alone in that assessment," FrioDraca noted.

"Be that as it may, Doctor Who--is it possible to make a Jem'Hadar overdose on ketracel-white?"

"What the hell kind of a damn fool question is that?" Keemer snapped. "Where did you take your chemistry studies, the back of a tricorder?"

"I'm from another time originally, Doctor!" Robinson snapped in response. "Back in my day, we didn't know about Jem'Hadar, ketracel-white, or anything like those subjects! This whole time is still galactica incognita to me, for the most part!"

"Doctor," FrioDraca broke in hastily, "perhaps you'd better show Major Robinson what little we've been able to gather about the Jem'Hadar. It may help him to understand."

Keemer was visibly chagrined. He hated dealing with Robinson's severely limited familiarity with the Twenty-Fourth Century, especially since it involved almost a hundred years of catch-up learning that Robinson still had to do. And all too often in those cases, he found himself acting out the role of teacher, which he detested. The son of a teacher whose father had wanted him to follow in his footsteps, he had instead opted for a career as a Star Fleet physician, opening a breach between father and son that had never been healed. Keemer's father had died thinking that Mike had let him down because of his son's decisions. Now, after all this time he had spent trying to avoid becoming a teacher, what had happened? A modern-day Rip Van Winkle had popped into all their lives, and he had been so unfamiliar with their time that Keemer had been forced to become a teacher in spite of himself! Mike hadn't been able to win for losing or get it right for being wrong!

But he set up the viewer so that Robinson could see what ketracel-white did to Jem'Hadar, and what its absence did to them as well. Seeing almost too late that the Twenty-Third Century survivor had little apparent interest in the Jem'Hadar themselves, Keemer instead decided to reveal what little was known about the composition of ketracel-white.

"Ketracel-white includes, as one of its active ingredients, a compound called yridium bicantizine. The trinucleic fungus, indigenous to Kabrel I, is broken down into yridium bicantizine in the synthesis of ketracel-white. Trinucleic fungi have been grown on other planets, but Kabrel I is the prime source of that particular fungus."

"I hear from my fellow FIA agents, in the regular briefings they send me, that these Jem'Hadar are mass-produced, in what amount to clone factories, specifically to fight and die--and to be and stay evil. Have any of them developed mutations that grant them immunity to ketracel-white addiction?"

"Only one on record is known to have such immunity, and he died with no one being able to autopsy him, so we can't tell what kind of genetic mutation that was. It's a shame, really, because Dr. Keemer was really looking forward to--" but the boatswain's whistle interrupted him.

"Siandierrrra to FrrioDrraca and RRobinson," came the voice of Fleet Captain Siandierra Anjulee Beautelier, the Commanding Officer of the Sovereign.

Tapping his communicator badge pin, Robinson answered, "What is it, Captain?"

"Message from the U. S. S. Galaxy, indicating intent to rrendezvous with us in one hourr. They'll be brringing a passengerr aboarrd, a cerrtain RRomulan of Frrio's acquaintance."

"That will be Commander Telsek K'Mar, my new assistant," FrioDraca broke in, tapping his own communicator badge pin before he spoke. "Should we wear our full-dress uniforms to receive him?"

"Perrfect!" Siandierra exulted.

Robinson groaned in anguish. "With all due respect to the CO," he grumbled, "I will NOT wear my dinner uniform for the purpose! Before that uniform design was introduced, we had full-dress uniforms whose outer mantles had gold-piped wrap-around flaps and fell below the wearer's natural hips in length--I hereby request permission to wear one of those uniforms instead!"

"Grranted," said Siandierra. "If you believe you need it, then you can rreplicate such a uniforrm in the apprroprriate deparrtment colorr--black in yourr case. Captain out."

* * * * *

Retiring to his quarters after he left the SickBay, Robinson turned to the replicator unit.

"Full-dress uniform, Star Fleet, first issue date 2369, section color intelligence black," he ordered. "Three distinct complete sets, all with according decorations relevant to Robinson, Lieutenant Commander Christopher T." Though poor substitutes for the legitimate version, which had to be custom-tailored by hand at a starbase, they would be the best he would have for the purpose.

It took two minutes before the computer could report, speaking in a voice similar to Counselor Estrazhi's, "UNIFORMS COMPLETED. REMOVE FROM DRAWER WHEN READY."

Touching a recess below the replicator unit, Robinson allowed a drawer to slide out. Inside it were the three full-dress uniforms he had requested from the Sovereign's computer, all of which were complete with the correct decorations. They even included pairs of full-dress boots!

"They didn't have these devices back when I was on the Enterprise I, braving the Wrath Of Khan," he remarked as he broke out the uniforms and brought them towards his walk-in locker, where he hanged two of them.

* * * * *

The Galaxy had brought its thrusters to station keeping and was alongside the Sovereign. The hull of the older Type I exploration dreadnought bore these markings: U. S. S. GALAXY. NCC-70637. STARSHIP U. S. S. GALAXY-- UNITED FEDERATION OF PLANETS.

And that of the younger Type II exploration dreadnought bore these markings: U. S. S. SOVEREIGN. NCC-75000. STARSHIP U. S. S. SOVEREIGN-- UNITED FEDERATION OF PLANETS.

These two were the respective fifth and sixth to bear the names they bore. The latter had been designed primarily to face the potential threat of the Borg--ironically, its current Executive Officer was Borg himself, being a de-assimilated drone. Once the human baby Solomon "Sonny" Wright, he had later been redesignated One Of Fourteen, Quaternary Adjunct To Unimatrix One Zero One. Now known as All Of One, he was proving to be the most efficient "Number One" Fleet Captain Siandierra had ever had as her second-in-command.

He and several other members of her command crew awaited the arrival of the new passenger.

Robinson, outfitted in an all-black full-dress uniform that was trimmed with metallic gold piping both at the flap of its outer mantle and along the yoke seamlines to distinguish the yoke itself from the rest of the mantle, was armed with his antique but high-power phaser pistol.

FrioDraca, in white outer-tunicked dinner uniform whose platinum inner tunic had bronze piping at its collar, snickered at Robinson. "That uniform looks like you're wearing a dress," he grinned.

"Save the insults forr anotherr time, Andorrian," Siandierra chided. "If RRobinson wants to look like he's wearring a drress, it's his business." She turned to Robinson. "Besides, Commanderr RRobinson, you look good in a drress."

The Intelligence Officer rolled his eyes behind the dark lenses of his eye-glasses. "Thanks a lot, Captain," he sneered. "How would YOU look in a civilian chemise?"

"Trrust me, Commanderr--you don't want to know," was Siandierra's response.

The boatswain's whistle prevented any additional conversation. "Galaxy to Sovereign--Commander Telsek standing by to beam aboard."

FrioDraca handed the negatronic boatswain's manual whistle to Robinson. "I believe yours should be the responsibility for piping Telsek aboard."

Taking the whistle into hands, Robinson literally jumped into classic position of attention.

"Energize," he snapped crisply to the technician behind the transporter controls.

At this, the tech tapped the console, fingers dancing on the touch-pad controls, and finally swept down one hand. Within seconds, amidst the sound of a part-musical, tinkling hum, a humanoid figure of scintillating light, which could be seen to be of the same approximate size as FrioDraca, became visible on the transporter. Then the figure's outline filled in, solidified, and ceased to scintillate. As the hum faded out, the new passenger materialized completely.

Bringing the whistle to his mouth, Robinson blew a sequence of three sounds with it, all of which were on the note of E flat, which sounded like "hyuh-WHEE-hyuh." The first sound lasted a second and a half; the second, which was one octave above the first and the third in tone, three and a half seconds; and the third and last, a full second. This sequence was the one used to pipe important passengers aboard. Then he lowered the whistle, returning to attention; as he did, the heels of his dress boots clicked with a loud crack. All eyes promptly turned to the passenger.

Commander Telsek K'Mar proved to be Vulcanoid in appearance, with a Romulan Service sash over the black-yoked bronze outer mantle of his Support Services Section full-dress uniform. Secured to it were two symbols. The one was the Kol-Ut-Shan, or IDIC, symbol that all Vulcan Scientific Legionnaires Of Honor bore; the other symbol was of the Tal Shiar, the now severely emasculated Romulan Secret Police Department. Evidently, Telsek was half Vulcan, half Romulan. But what horrified Robinson was that Telsek resembled a Vulcanoid version of FrioDraca. Was it true, he could not avoid thinking, that there were in reality only so many actual sizes and shapes humanoid life could take, as he had always insisted?

"Welcome aboard, Commander," said FrioDraca, breaking the silence.

In a voice that sounded eerily similar to FrioDraca's, Telsek responded, "Thank you, Commander FrioDraca. I will be looking forward to serving with you on the Sovereign."

"This is our Commanding Officer, Fleet Captain Siandierra Anjulee Beautelier, late of the planet Cait," Robinson finally managed to say, gesturing to Siandierra. "Our Number One, All OF One, late of the Borg's collective consciousness in the Alpha Quadrant."

He indicated All Of One.

"Captain Selek, our Science Officer."

He gestured to the Vulcan, who peered at Telsek curiously through the thick lenses of the heavy eye-glasses he wore over radiation-weakened eyes.

"I'm Lieutenant Commander Christopher Thomas Robinson, Intelligence Officer."

He gestured to his former superior.

"FrioDraca you apparently know."

"Yes, I do," said Telsek, revealing a similar mild lisp to FrioDraca's. "We have kept in close touch since this war began. After resigning from the Tal Shiar, my father recommended me for the Star Fleet Academy's Vulcan Campus. FrioDraca sponsored my admission fifteen years ago, and he even had Captain Siandierra write the necessary letter of referral, since I was not a Federation citizen."

"Many humans would regard you with revulsion, Commander Telsek," Robinson confessed. "They are aware that the function in Romulan society of the Tal Shiar, to which your father belonged, makes it, in effect, the Romulan Secret Police Department. We humans consider ourselves essentially peaceable, and tend to have little respect for secret police departments. These are effectively organizations of war and martial law, and since the Tal Shiar is one of them, its existence reinforces the general human perception that the Romulan Star Empire is a police state, like any totalitarian dictatorship."

"Romulans view your Federation Intelligence Agency similarly, if that is any comfort to you."

"Those views are mistaken, Telsek," Robinson explained. "The Federation Intelligence Agency is forbidden, by law, to interfere with either Federation government or Federation society. Indeed, that ban is the FIA's Prime Directive, in the way that the ban on interference, by Star Fleet personnel or Federation diplomats, with the normal development of alien culture or society is the Prime Directive of both Star Fleet and the Federation Diplomatic Service."

Selek broke in, "Captain, perhaps it would be a good idea to give Commander Telsek his complete medical examination in order to establish his life-signs baseline?"

"That makes sense to me," Siandierra said. "Make it so."

"If you'll excuse me, Captain," said FrioDraca, "Robinson and I will be taking Telsek to SickBay for the purpose. It'll give us a chance to talk with him, and maybe get to know him better."

Siandierra nodded approvingly. "That will worrk perrfectly." She then turned to all other hands in the transporter room. "Company--dismissed!"

With that they all left.

* * * * *

Robinson, FrioDraca, and Telsek were approaching the SickBay's starboard aseptic entry lobby five minutes later, none of them having removed their full-dress uniforms.

"No excess is ever good," Telsek was saying. "If Jem'Hadar can overdose on ketracel-white, then providing them with too much of it would be a highly effective weapon against them. Still, it is illogical to devote one's energies to the extinction of an entire intelligent species, even one demonstrated to be as hostile as the Jem'Hadar."

"I still consider trying to fight Jem'Hadar by giving them overdoses of ketracel-white, instead of denying it to them, a bad idea," FrioDraca disputed. "There may be survivors of those overdoses, who may become the dominant branch of Jem'Hadar society--and in that instance, Robinson's plan may violate the Prime Directive by contaminating the development of Jem'Hadar culture."

"We don't know that," Robinson said. "We'll have nothing to lose by at least giving it a shot." By that time they were inside the SickBay. "And at the very least, we'll know if Jem'Hadar can die of ketracel-white overdoses."

"DON'T REHASH THAT DAMN FOOL QUESTION IN MY SICKBAY!"

It was Michael Keemer. Over his Sciences Section uniform, he was wearing his white laboratory over-mantle, to which his communicator badge pin had been attached just above the red embroidery of the Medical Division's caduceus and red cross emblems.

"That's not what brings us here, Doctor Who," Robinson explained. "Telsek's baseline is."

The new member of the Sovereign's crew regarded its Intelligence Officer curiously. "Let me get this correct. You refer to the ship's Chief Medical Officer as Doctor Who?"

"It's a long story, Commander Telsek," said Keemer. "We won't have time for it now."

FrioDraca regarded Robinson with a peculiar expression. "I think this is about where we came in," he said.

"Let's let Doctor Who get to his work," Robinson agreed.

The two left the SickBay.

* * * * *

In his quarters half an hour later, Robinson was decoding a briefing from his FIA control, a man he knew only as Chip.

Vosseller, in handing down the sentence in Star Fleet Versus Robinson, had permitted Robinson to dog and batten the hatches of his quarters when he was in them whilst decoding any FIA briefings he might receive, but only at those times. He then had to use a locked computer annex. This easing of the otherwise inflexible restrictions on the Intelligence Officer was based entirely on the fact that Vosseller himself had also been an Intelligence Officer; as such, it was specific to Robinson's duties aboard ship.

The briefing intended for Robinson had been downloaded directly into the Sovereign's main computers from those of the Galaxy, aboard which Chip served, while Telsek was being formally received in the transporter room. Indeed, as Robinson realized by the time he had finished decoding it, the briefing was about Telsek.

He addressed the computer. "Play briefing."

In response to his command, the voice of Chip, so similar in sound to that of a human version of All Of One, declared, "Scarlet from Chip. By the time you have completed the process of decoding this briefing, the Vulcan-Romulan Telsek K'Mar will be aboard your vessel and receiving his baseline medical examination from the Chief Medical Officer of your ship. The company believes it is important for you to know as much information about him as it possesses. This is because Telsek will be Ice Dragon's immediate successor in the chain of command aboard your ship, and Bold One is not convinced that Ice Dragon will survive your current mission.

"Telsek K'Mar is the son of a former Tal Shiar commander by a Vulcan attaché assigned to Ambassador Sarek, whose son, Admiral Spock, the Star Fleet Sciences Chief, is currently engaged in the illegal pursuit of diplomacy in Romulan space. Telsek is thirty-eight Earth years of age, and was born on Vulcan in the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Thirty-Six. His childhood aspirations to follow in the footsteps of his father and join the Tal Shiar were discouraged by his maternal grandparents. They instead enrolled him in the Vulcan Science Academy, where he spent the majority of his adolescence studying the path to logic. It was not till he reached the age of eighteen years that they permitted him to seek out adventure among the stars. This was in the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Fifty-Four. In that year, he learned that he was not a Federation citizen, as his maternal grandparents had neglected to apply for his naturalization. From what we have been able to gather about him for this period, he apparently met Ice Dragon during this time, and the two became friends.

"For five years, between the years Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Fifty-Four and Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Fifty-Nine, Telsek traveled extensively, even visiting the planet Romulus, the world of his father's birth, in the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Fifty-Seven. He was able to conceal his Vulcan origins from most other Romulans because he found logic more difficult than most other Vulcans. In the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Fifty-Eight, he visited the world of Ice Dragon's birth, the planet Andor a.k.a. Andoria, known as Fesoan to its natives. It was there that he renewed his friendship with Ice Dragon, and it was there that he found himself drawn towards Star Fleet. Before the two parted ways, Telsek convinced Ice Dragon to prevail upon Black Cat for a letter of reference in Telsek's name so that Telsek could join Star Fleet. This letter was written in the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Fifty-Nine. In the same year, Telsek took the entrance examination into the Star Fleet Academy, which he passed, and enrolled at its Vulcan Campus with Ice Dragon's sponsorship.

"In the Academy, Telsek's major studies were in the field of security and the background thereof, and his minor studies were in tactical operations. However, in the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Sixty-One, his maternal grandparents died. This forced him to take a leave of absence from his Academy studies that lasted two years. During that time, he studied with Vulcan masters whose teachings enabled him, even as he was reclaiming his logic, to develop his inherent Vulcanoid abilities--mind-melds and nerve-pinching techniques were only the two best-known examples of these. It was not till the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Sixty-Three that he was able to resume his studies in the Academy.

"Telsek graduated from the Academy with honors in the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Sixty-Five as a warrant officer third class, with eligibility for full officer's license. In that year, he was assigned aboard the U. S. S. Hornet, of the U. S. S. Renaissance's class, as an unlicensed security guard. His permanent service record shows that he was a hard worker and highly dedicated to his job. This resulted in his promotion to the rate of chief warrant officer second class and his reassignment to the U. S. S. Galaxy, the fifth ship in Star Fleet's history to bear the name, from which this briefing has been transmitted to you.

"Chief Warrant Officer Second Class Telsek's performances of his duties included going above and beyond the call of same in many instances. When the Galaxy's Commanding Officer was killed in the line of duty, the officer promoted to captain and assigned as the new Commanding Officer took note of Telsek's achievements and promoted him to chief warrant officer first class. In the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Sixty-Six, the year after Telsek joined its crew, the Galaxy's Chief Security & Tactical Officer received a reassignment that opened the post. Telsek was promoted twice. The first promotion was to full ensign, with full officer's license. The second was to lieutenant junior grade, and with it came actual assignment to Chief Security & Tactical Officer of the Galaxy. As your control, it has been my satisfaction to serve alongside him since then. Taking the challenge he received, he jumped into the task with both feet and went to work reorganizing the section. Late in the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Sixty-Six, the Galaxy was recalled to McKinley Station for refitting. This was not completed till the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Sixty-Seven, by which time Telsek had been promoted to full lieutenant and assigned as the Commanding Officer's personal bodyguard due to an incident in which the Commanding Officer was nearly killed by renegade Ferengi who wrongly believed they had been swindled in a parts-for-fuel exchange.

"In the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Sixty-Eight, the year Ambassador Sarek died of Bendii's syndrome, Telsek's mother also died of that disease even as her son was promoted to lieutenant commander. The coincidental times of both deaths has aroused suspicion that Sarek was assassinated using an artificially created form of Bendii's syndrome that we have not yet identified conclusively. Whatever the reason, his mother's death forced Telsek to take another leave of absence and travel to Vulcan for the funeral. He there reunited with his father; the two had seen little of each other after the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Fifty-Nine. Their journey brought them near the Cardassian prison station Terok Nor, where both were almost killed by Cardassians who fired on their ship. This led Telsek to volunteer for special training late in the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Sixty-Nine, which he began late that year and which forced him to leave the Galaxy for two years. Late in the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Seventy-One, he returned to the Galaxy. There, he learned that his old friend Ice Dragon would serve aboard your ship, the Sovereign, when it launched in the month of January in the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Seventy-Two. During the month when the Sovereign launched, Telsek was promoted to commander and requested a transfer so he could serve alongside his old friend.

"But Star Fleet has been unable to grant that request till now, the month of October in the year Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Seventy-Four. And even then, it has had to await an occasion such as your current mission to do so. This is because it needs his unique fighting skills, such as are needed to survive your current mission, to accomplish it. Ice Dragon does not possess these skills, and even though you do, your experience in employing them is limited.

"Your personal mission, should you decide to accept it, is to see that Telsek establishes himself as a valued member of Black Cat's command crew. Should Ice Dragon be killed during this mission, you are to facilitate the succession of Telsek to his post.

"As always in the course of any special operation for the company, should you or any member of your team be caught or killed, the company will deny knowledge of your actions and disown you for your own protection. The same will hold true for Ice Dragon if he encounters similar difficulties.

"You are required to submit a report within forty-eight hours of the completion of your mission.

"Chip out."

The viewscreen went blank. Robinson snapped, "Computer, erase encoded briefing and classify decoded briefing under my voiceprint."

Two seconds later, the computer responded, "ERASURE AND CLASSIFICATION COMPLETE. DECODED BRIEFING NOW INACCESSIBLE BY ANY PERSONNEL OTHER THAN LIEUTENANT COMMANDER C. T. ROBINSON."

"Disengage entrance hatch battens."

The next second, the computer acknowledged, "ENTRANCE HATCHES UNBATTENED."

Robinson headed to the sleeping compartment of his quarters. It had been a tiring day.

* * * * *

Not till 04:45 hours did the Sovereign reach the planet to which it had been sent. Seeing it on screen, Robinson and Telsek understood why the Dominion had decided to make ketracel-white there. It was a deserted backwater of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, well out of normal range of Federation patrols. Even at ten parsecs, it looked rather lightly guarded. Some of the handful of vessels orbiting the planet were Galor-class Cardassian ships. FrioDraca thought he saw a Breen vessel as well as the expected Jem'Hadar ships.

"Launching a runabout, say, the Nile, may divert the patrol long enough for us to beam a small away team to the surface," he said.

The Sovereign's Chief Communications Officer, Lieutenant Joseph Horton, rose from his chair. "Captain," he said, "allow me to fly the Nile as our decoy."

"Go," Siandierra said. Turning to the controls console, she went on, "Flight Con, brring us closerr to the planet."

"Shouldn't we wait to approach till the Nile is actually under way?" Robinson asked. "After all, that runabout is our decoy."

"I concur," said Telsek. "If we launch the Nile before we approach, the mission may fail. We need to avoid the transporter jammers the Vorta will have in place."

Siandierra thumbed the com panel on her command chair. "Misterr Horrton? Captain herre. You arre to launch at the firrst opporrtunity, to give us time to apprroach the planet."

"Copy, Captain Siandierra," was Horton's response.

"Telsek, Robinson, you're both with me," FrioDraca said.

"Not till we enterr trransporrterr rrange--is that clearr?"

"Yes."

* * * * *

It took ten minutes for the Nile, which, like the majority of runabouts of the U. S. S. Danube's class, was named for a well-known river on Earth, to get under way. Robinson felt his heart sink as he watched it launch, for he feared that the Nile would be destroyed in the course of the pursuit. He voiced this fear aloud, asking, "What if the sister ships of the Galor, the Breen ship, and/or any or all those Jem'Hadar ships catch up to the Nile? What then?"

"They will not," Telsek said. "Your Joseph Horton is an expert pilot, especially at warp speeds. Moreover, he knows how to disguise the warp signature of a runabout so that it will seem to be that of a Sovereign-class starship."

"Even as he diverrts them, we will make ourr way in underr cloak and conduct ourr mission." This from Siandierra.

"Joe got you and your team off Bolgor, didn't he?" FrioDraca noted.

"Fat lot of good that did," Robinson spat. "Lieutenant Jay Ansky is dead, my first contact mission amongst the Bolgoreans failed, I've lost permission to command away teams, and I'm forced to report to the CO and/or the XO directly."

"You still have yourr life." This was Siandierra again. "You still have the rrest of yourr carreerr. And you have the failurre of Thulon's derranged attempt to rrevenge Tholon's death."

But Robinson was still too embittered over the circumstances that had led to his court-martial to appreciate what his Commanding Officer was saying.

"Thulon and Tholon were traditional enemies of the Andorian Draca duchy, and I just happened to get involved because I'm human. I've got a criminal record, which compromises my legal status. And as for my having a life, a large part of me died in 2289, the year I deliberately abandoned my own time for this period."

"Returning to a past you can no longer change is at least as futile as we have always claimed that resistance to us is." All turned to regard All Of One, the Executive Officer. The implant over his right eye made him seem to be peering skeptically at Robinson. "Since I treated Mr. Horton for the blood disease that gives him artificial vampire-like powers, he is capable of feats of flight con operation you could never match," the de-assimilated Borg drone went on. "He still needs to ingest fresh blood in order to survive, but not as frequently as he once did."

"All I can say is that Joe had better not try to attack a Jem'Hadar victim," Robinson retorted. "Ketracel-white is an addictive drug--blazes, even I could get hooked on it!"

"You trusted him to get you and your team off Bolgor when those phaser rifle prototypes Thulon had stolen from you and leaked to the Bolgoreans made it too dangerous for any of you to stay on the surface," All Of One chided blandly. "I believe he held his own in that situation rather effectively, since the prototypes were powerful enough to negate the deflector shields of your shuttlecraft."

* * * * *

Joseph Horton, indeed, was holding his own attempting to outrun the Cardassian, Breen, and Jem'Hadar pursuit. The tricks he had learned from Traci Giorgianni in counterfeiting the warp signature of a Class One capital starship like the Sovereign were coming in handy now.

"Come on," he urged, "not much farther now--give me everything you've got!"

The Cardassians were firing on the Nile with photon torpedoes, since phasers and disruptors were both useless at multi-warp speeds. But as All Of One had predicted, Horton's heightened reflexes and accelerated practical reaction speed were making it easy for him to dodge and/or decoy the torps. He was able to perform maneuvers for which runabouts were not designed. It must have seemed to the guls of the Cardassians's Galor-class vessels as though they were pursuing ghosts. No doubt the Breen and Jem'Hadar captains felt similar frustrations.

* * * * *

The real Sovereign, for its part, had slowed to one half impulse speed and was under cloak. This was illegal under the Second Treaty Of Algeron, which forbade the UFP to develop cloaking technology. But there was an indigenous population which was more primitive than the Jem'Hadar, the Breen, the Vorta, the Dominion Founders, or the Cardassians. Indeed, Robinson's FIA control had determined that the natives were unaware that their planet had been invaded or was being used to manufacture ketracel-white. Thus Star Fleet General Order One, the Prime Directive, applied. It was more to protect the natives than to avoid detection that the Sovereign's cloaking device was in use.

One advantage of a cloaking device over deflector shields is that cloaking technology does not interfere with matter transport, whereas deflector shields can disrupt the pattern integrity, and block the annular confinement beam, of transported matter. A cloaking device's higher power requirement, of course, is its major disadvantage, meaning that in combat, vessels so equipped usually have to de-cloak before they can employ any on-board ordnance.

These concerns did not trouble Star Fleet Marine Reserves Lieutenant Colonel FrioDraca, Star Fleet Rangers Service Commander Telsek K'Mar, or Star Fleet Marine Major Christopher Thomas Robinson as they materialized on the planet's surface, a sizable distance from native settlements or the ketracel-white factory. All had phaser rifles slung over their shoulders. FrioDraca's and Robinson's heads bore black SFMC berets; a platinum-gray SFRS utility cap covered Telsek's head.

"All quiet so far," Robinson whispered. "The facility should be five klicks due east of our current position." The other two knew what he meant. The word "klick" was an old Earth military contraction for "kilometer," meaning one thousand meters--a common distance unit in UFP terminology, which used the metric system extensively.

"It's something of an advantage that we have a Star Fleet Ranger cooperating with us on this mission," said FrioDraca, his own voice equally hushed.

"Admiral Vosseller's idea," Telsek admitted sotto voce. "He believed, and argued quite logically, that this mission called for two distinct disciplines--those of Star Fleet Marines and of Star Fleet Rangers. I fall into the latter category."

Robinson wondered how the training and philosophy of the Star Fleet Rangers Service differed from those of the Star Fleet Marine Corps, but decided that the mission was too pressing to pursue the question.

Thus all he said aloud was, "Let's go."

The three officers headed east.

* * * * *

The Jem'Hadar formation was the minimum twenty-seven inside the camp proper, but the nine who patrolled the perimeter looked abominably familiar. One of these reminded Robinson of All Of One, another resembled a Jem'Hadar version of both FrioDraca AND Telsek, a third was horribly reminiscent of Keemer, a fourth seemed similar to ShadowRunner now and the late Jay Ansky before him, a fifth could barely be distinguished from Elvass, a sixth looked similar to Admiral Vosseller, a seventh was nearly a Jem'Hadar dead ringer for Horton, the appearance of an eighth was almost the same as that of the Operations Manager, and the ninth looked like a Jem'Hadar version of Robinson himself!

The nine were not close enough to shoot, nor did the three members of the away team dare risk betraying their positions by firing a shot.

"Sometimes you have to wonder at Bold One's wisdom," Robinson whispered to Telsek. "Here these Jem'Hadar are, getting more ketracel-white than they themselves need, and on top of that, they're guarding it so that others of their kind can also get it."

"But where are the Vorta who are supposed to be administering the facility?" Telsek wondered in sotto voce response.

"Search me," FrioDraca responded under his breath. "Admiral Vosseller's report didn't mention their whereabouts when I originally read it--"

"Unless there aren't any Vorta, and this facility isn't being administered at all!" Robinson suddenly blurted in a horrified whisper. "Sirs, this is a trap!"

"Are you serious, Major?" FrioDraca asked, too low to be heard clearly.

"I'm sure of it!" Robinson's eyes were blazing with intensity behind his eye-shields. "Vorta are usually more careful than this with their administration of ketracel-white to Jem'Hadar!"

That was when the ninth Jem'Hadar yelled, in a horrible mockery of Robinson's own voice, "I am DEAD! As of this moment, we are ALL dead! We go into battle to reclaim our lives! This we do gladly, because we are Jem'Hadar! Remember--VICTORY IS LIFE!!!"

"Oh, my God. The Jem'Hadar combat proclamation." Robinson's face was ashen pale, and not merely from the horror of hearing his own voice coming from someone else's mouth.

"Should we contact the ship?" Telsek asked.

FrioDraca turned to Robinson. "You do it."

Robinson tapped his communicator badge pin. "Away team to Sovereign. Condition Green--all is well. Team out."

On board the Main Bridge, All Of One had heard the message. He turned to Siandierra. "The away team is in trouble, and we are not to intervene."

Siandierra sat bolt upright in her command chair. "Keep a fix on theirr positions."

Sybil Sixteen, who had accepted relief as Executive Officer in favor of All Of One, regarded Siandierra with alarm. "Does the away team think we've sent it into a trap?"

"It is possible," Siandierra conceded. "The Admirral's rreporrt made no mention of any Vorrta, and yet they'rre supposed to be in charrge of administerring the ketrracel-white. It could be therre arren't any Vorrta therre."

"Where's Horton?" Sybil wanted to know.

"The Nile should be back from its diversionary mission any second now," Selek said from his seat at the Sciences Station. He checked a sensor reading. "I have a fix on it now, Captain. Coming in at bearing two hundred degrees mark twenty-one, under one-quarter impulse power."

"Does it appearr to be damaged?" asked the Caitian.

"Negative. It is apparently running at reduced speed to conserve fuel."

"Brring it in, then."

As Horton was piloting the Nile back to the Sovereign's Main Shuttle Hangar, the away team on the surface was having problems of its own.

Seeing a Jem'Hadar approach them with his rifle in hands, ready to fire, Telsek snapped, "Frio! Robinson! Take cover!"

As Robinson and FrioDraca turned towards the sound of Telsek's voice, the Jem'Hadar fired his rifle at point-blank range, laughing maniacally.

FrioDraca gasped in agony as the energy burned through him.

"FRIO!!!" screamed the horrified Robinson, whipping up his phaser rifle. But before he could fire it, Telsek shoved it down, hard.

"NO!" the Vulcan-Romulan hybrid snapped. "That Jem'Hadar is too far away for you to get a clean shot! All you will do is reveal our position."

And sure enough, the Jem'Hadar quickly gained reinforcements. In grief and rage, Robinson struck his communicator badge pin so hard that he almost knocked it off his outer tunic, yelling into it, "Robinson to Sovereign--three to beam directly to SickBay NOW!!!"

The annular confinement beam of the Sovereign's matter transporter surrounded the three in seconds, preventing the Jem'Hadar from getting a clean shot to finish the job. The one who had actually shot FrioDraca was yelling after them in glee, as they dematerialized, "Your precious Andorian friend will never survive the injury he has sustained! He will need much time to die, but he will die!" He punctuated this with another fit of mocking laughter.

All Robinson could hear was the horrible mockery of FrioDraca's voice, from the Jem'Hadar's throat, as he lost his perception of reality.

* * * * *

In the SickBay, Keemer had established triage, and he was now tending to FrioDraca. But his expression made it clear that even though he was treating the Chief Security & Tactical Officer within the "golden hour" that, for trauma centers, can make the difference between life or death, and even though he was fully versed in Andorian medicine and surgery, the noble warrior's injury was mortal. It would never be possible for him to recover.

To Robinson, it was worse than witnessing the final hours of a casualty of war. Frio's impending death would result from a calculated, cold-blooded murder. Telsek could only watch helplessly as this human suffered. The agony in Robinson's blunt features was beyond anything that those who had been victims of interrogation at the hands of Telsek's father had endured. No Tal Shiar officer had ever had to send his or her victims through a hell that was anything like this!

Siandierra joined them as they watched Keemer conduct his futile quest to save FrioDraca's life.

"He looks so lonely," she hissed in sorrow.

"It would be infinitely worse if he had company."

"How can you joke about it, human?" Telsek snapped.

"I'm NOT joking!" Robinson spat. "If I hadn't signaled for emergency beam-out, we'd all be dead!"

"I prresume this means the mission will have to be scrrubbed," Siandierra purred fatalistically.

"Why do you say that?" Telsek wondered.

"For no reason!" interrupted Robinson, not giving Siandierra a chance to answer. "In case you two have both forgotten, part of this vessel's motto refers to fighting spirit. That means we NEVER quit, no matter how difficult the going gets!"

"Oh no!" Siandierra retorted warily. "You've had yourr chance, and you blew it."

"We're only gonna blow the mission if we give up on it!" Robinson insisted.

"To use yourr favorrite human phrrasing: What do you mean 'we?'" The Commanding Officer looked almost ready to eat Robinson alive for her next meal. "YOU won't be involved in the mission any morre."

The boatswain's whistle cut all three of them off. "Bridge to Captain Siandierra."

Sighing, the Caitian tapped the bulkhead-mounted communications panel with her clawed right index finger. "Siandierrrra herre--what is it now, Horrton?"

"Message from Admiral Vosseller. He says he wants to talk to Robinson--and that he wants you to be there when he does."

Siandierra rolled her eyes. "Pipe it down herre, Misterr Horrton." She then signaled to Robinson. "This way."

Robinson walked over, and the two stood before the viewer. Within seconds, as Horton worked controls from aboard the Main Bridge, the fleshy visage and thinned sand-brown hair of Vice Admiral Robert Vosseller Jr. became visible. "Black Cat, is Scarlet with you?"

"Reporting as ordered, Bold One," the Intelligence Officer responded, with an intensity in his response that startled the ailuroid to a degree. Hearing Robinson's voice, Vosseller's expression grew grave.

"Chris, what's wrong?" he asked.

"FrioDraca's been shot and critically--no, let me rephrase that," Robinson answered. "FrioDraca's been shot and MORTALLY injured."

"We werre considerring canceling the mission," Siandierra confessed. "Therre's a verry rreal chance that Commanderr RRobinson may put his own interrests ahead of--"

"NOTHING DOING!!" Vosseller interrupted. "The mission goes ahead as planned--and it does with Commander Robinson in command of it, do you hear me?" He seemed to be straining his eyes to look beyond the two. "Who's that Vulcanoid there in your SickBay with the two of you? Is that Commander Telsek K'Mar?"

"Yes, it is, Admiral," said Telsek, coming to the viewer. "I'm afraid Fleet Captain Siandierra does have a point. From what little I saw of Commander Robinson's activities, he is unusually vindictive, even for a human. Fleet Captain Siandierra is afraid that he will want revenge on the Jem'Hadar who shot and killed Commander FrioDraca."

"Let him want revenge, Black Cat," Vosseller said. "Better yet, let him get it. Scarlet, you're bound to have a personal stake in this mission's success, because of what happened to FrioDraca."

"Bold One," Robinson said coldly, "I mean to hear Frio's last orders to me before I decide. If he wants me to retribute his death, I will. But the mission matters most. That's why I agreed to it. And if securing justice for his death is what he wants from me before he dies, so much the better." His voice took on a tone of hostility. "Just as long as it will NOT interfere with the mission."

"Admiral, I acknowledge the logic of Fleet Captain Siandierra's arguments," Telsek interjected. "Commander Robinson's attitude shows signs of obsession with revenge. I recognize those signs from my father's interrogations of prisoners; they showed such vengeful attitudes during captivity."

"Those prisoners were all Federation victims of the de facto Romulan Secret Police Department!" Robinson exploded at Telsek. "Of COURSE they'd want revenge!" His fury broke and he added more calmly, "They did. I DON'T. And I won't if Frio tells me he doesn't before he dies."

As if in response to the Intelligence Officer's vitriolic outburst, Keemer's voice interrupted, "I've got Frio stabilized. He's asking for Commander Robinson."

Vosseller glared at Siandierra. "Keep this channel open till he comes back." Then to Robinson, he added, "Have your talk with Frio. They're gonna be his last words, so make damned sure you remember them. Record them if you have to--as a matter of fact, Siandierra, give him a tricorder. I want to make sure FrioDraca's last words are recorded for posterity."

The Commanding Officer gave her Intelligence Officer the tricorder she used to record her official log when not aboard ship. Taking it into hands, Robinson reentered the SickBay surgical chamber.

"He's not gonna last longer than five minutes," Keemer warned. "You sure you're up to it?"

"Leave me to deal with me, Doctor Who," said Robinson with forced steadiness in his voice. Then he walked over to FrioDraca. As he headed towards the table, he opened the tricorder and trained it on the moribund Support Services Section officer.

"I heard everything they were saying in regard to the mission," said the Andorian in a weak voice. "What do you want to do?"

"Well, you're still one of my superior officers, and you're gonna be one till you do bite the dust," was Robinson's shaky response. "If you were listening in, you know that I want final orders from you before I commit to anything."

"All right, then," FrioDraca whispered huskily. "Pay close attention to these words." He cleared his throat and gathered what little strength he could still muster. "As of this moment, you, Lieutenant Commander Robinson--Major Robinson--are hereby ordered, requested, and required to avenge, and secure justice for, my death in the course of carrying out your mission. Find the Jem'Hadar who killed me, and when you do, shoot him to his own death--not with your phaser rifle, but with as massive an overdosage of ketracel-white as you can possibly scrape together. And when you do, make damned sure you let him and his know, as you do that, that you're doing it for me. If you want to do it for yourself as well as for me, then do it for yourself. Just force those Jem'Hadar to deal with the fact..." his voice faltered from the effort he was forcing into it, and his breathing came in shorter, heavier, and more agonized gasps for oxygen... "that...partly because it dares...but mainly because of its...strength...wisdom...imagination...and...fighting spirit..." he coughed in pain, and his expression contorted itself into a hideous grimace... "sometimes the dragon wins."

Commander FrioDraca of Andor, the Ice Dragon of Fesoan, allowed his last breath to escape from his lungs with a low grunt as he closed his eyes. His antennae drooped to a near-horizontal position on his head, their dull round cups pointing towards the head of the operating table as his body lost the last vestiges of its muscle tone. As this happened, the vital sign monitors fell below minimum critical and settled into the low drone that resulted from their termination.

He was dead.

It took all the courage Robinson could muster to pull the blanket over the face and head of FrioDraca's corpse. Then, his own face contorted in anguish and grief, he walked back over to where Vosseller, Siandierra, and Telsek were waiting for him. Keemer joined him there, and his were the first words spoken.

"The death of Commander FrioDraca occurred at 17:01 hours as a result of energy rifle injuries inflicted by a Jem'Hadar's hand."

A loud rending sound could be heard. All eyes turned to Robinson. He had torn a gash in the right breast of his outer tunic with his communicator badge pin.

"What were his last orders to you?" Vosseller wanted to know.

Robinson had difficulty collecting himself sufficiently to respond to the flag officer's question. This forced all the others to wait till, with an effort that left him shaking, he faced the vice admiral squarely.

"The Ice Dragon of Fesoan was not slain for nothing," he said in a harsh whisper. "The Jem'Hadar who killed him is a dead life-form, sapient or not--let General Order Two be hanged." He whirled on Siandierra and shoved the tricorder back into her clawed hands.

Telsek narrowed his eyes.

"We grieve with thee, Robinson, son of Donald," he said.

The Intelligence Officer lowered his eye-shields and his eye-glasses.

"I'll swear you in as Frio's successor at 18:00 hours," he said. "Till then, I'll be acting Chief Security & Tactical Officer. You'll be requested and required to relieve me of that duty when you're sworn in."

Telsek nodded. "I will switch to my dress bronzes." He left the SickBay.

"If you'll excuse me, Admirral, I'm expected back on the Brridge," Siandierra said. "Siandierrrra out." She turned and left.

Vosseller looked questioningly at Robinson. "Are we clear on this?"

"As rock crystal and/or silicate glass," the Intelligence Officer said. "My FIA control has already briefed me about Telsek, and I'll swear him in as Frio's successor at 18:00 hours."

"The FIA informs me that you will have carte blanche as to methods, personnel, and protocols."

"I intend to have specialized field equipment items fabricated for the purpose. Who's gonna have that all-important need to know about why I'm gonna want it fabricated?"

"You, Telsek, me, and your control. No one else."

"Acknowledged," Robinson said. "Scarlet out."

"Bold One out, Scarlet."

With that Vosseller signed off.

As the viewer blanked, Robinson turned to Keemer. "Do you remember the question I asked you when you first explained to me what ketracel-white was?"

The Chief Surgeon glared at the Twenty-Third Century survivor. "Yes," he snapped, "and I wish to God I didn't. I still think it was a damn fool question; I still wonder what the hell kind of a damn fool question it is; and I still wonder if you studied chemistry from the back of a tricorder because of it."

"It's no joke, Doctor Who," Robinson explained. "It's just elementary pharmaceutical knowledge. Any addictive drug is subject to abuse, and can cause death from an overdose." He looked away from Keemer. "Do I have to mention Ornara or Brekka, Delos III and IV respectively?"

"Don't go quoting the Enterprise V's logs on me, Robinson!" Keemer shot back. "I've forgotten more about felicium than you'll EVER know." He took a seat. "Sometimes I get the feeling I know TOO damned much about it. I've got some interest in Earth entertainment history--from the centuries when entertainment was entirely non-interactive--and I can tell you for a fact, its pages are dirty and smelly from the moist gangrene of deaths that resulted from drug overdoses or complications OF them thereof!"

"Those drug overdose victims were all human, Doctor Who; Jem'Hadar are most distinctly NOT. Ketracel-white, as you pointed out, provides Jem'Hadar with critical biochemical nourishment as well as being a drug to which they share a life-threatening addiction. But it is a drug, and thus it stands to reason that they can absorb dosages of it much too strong for their bodies to tolerate safely--and that, if it is the case, may be a weakness we can exploit, even as we already exploit their addiction to it by denying it to them."

All of a sudden, Keemer threw back his black head and roared with laughter, indeed giving way to a regular fit of gleeful hysterics. Choking breathlessly, he gasped, "You know, for a human, you think just like a Vulcan sometimes--you've been hanging around Selek too often!" He broke off long enough to snatch back his composure and added, "That's as logical an argument for the idea of Jem'Hadar overdosing on ketracel-white as Selek himself would make if he were here!"

"But he's not here, Doctor. You are. My question about Jem'Hadar ODing on 'white' is now of vital import in the wake of FrioDraca's death. Before he died, he ordered me to avenge his death, and I mean to do that. If I can do that the way he said I should, I want to know. If I can't, I want to know that too. So there go chemistry studies from the back of a tricorder, and in their place is a Vulcan Science Academy alumnus, with no fewer than three degrees, who's a Vulcan Scientific Legionnaire Of Honor." Robinson smirked at the physician. "Stick that in your Bunsen burner and light it!"

Keemer fumed silently. He had forgotten about Robinson's academic credentials. Only a graduate of the Vulcan Science Academy would know what Bunsen burners, now obsolete, were. Aloud he said, "Star Fleet doesn't know if Jem'Hadar can overdose on ketracel-white. Their supplies of it are pre-measured, so that they'll get the correct dosage when they need it."

"Ah, but that dosage is based on its ratio to unit of body mass, Doctor Who," Robinson remarked. "No drug is totally without risk; all drugs have side effects because immune systems reject them as foreign. Nor is any drug without the potential for deadly overdosage, as I've been trying to point out from the get-go. It's just a question of determining LD/50--the median lethal dose; as a doctor, you of all people should know what that is."

"The minimum amount of any given drug or toxin needed to cause death in a mean average of fifty out of every one hundred persons exposed to it," Keemer said, rolling his eyes upwards. "Damn it, why the hell do you sound so much like an Academy professor at times like this?"

"If I knew that, Counselor Estrazhi would be out of a job," Robinson noted. "And given the general mood of this crew, that may be a bad idea."

"So what do you want?"

"Give me a spray hypo."

"May I ask why?"

"No."

Keemer grinned. "Typical spook," he chuckled as he broke out a high-compression hypodermic spray injector and handed it over to Robinson. Resuming his all-business attitude, he went on, "Now just be careful how many times you use that contraption. Though it's got a tough housing, it contains comparatively delicate precision mechanisms that have to be completely replaced after every twenty thousand uses."

Robinson thanked Keemer with a bland nod and left the SickBay. Once outside it, he could voice his retort unheard. Even so, he whispered to give anyone nearby trouble comprehending him.

"Or a single use of twenty thousand times the normal dosage amount of any drug."

* * * * *

Traci Giorgianni, the Sovereign's Chief Engineering Officer, was not an easygoing human. There were many things that abraded her nerves. One of them was Christopher Thomas Robinson's presence in this time, where he clearly did not belong.

Knowing this as he did, Robinson usually went out of his way to avoid her. But that was not possible in this situation, for he needed an improvisational technologist for what he had in mind, and he knew that Montgomery MacDonald Edward Scott was one of Giorgianni's heroes. Since he had served on the Enterprise I alongside Scott and had actually gotten to know the legendary high-tech tinkerer, one of a handful of engineering personnel in Star Fleet who could hold Class One capital starships like the Enterprise I together with nothing more than rusted baling wire and their own spittle, he knew that Giorgianni was an admirer of Scott's insistence on staying somewhat conservative on paper whilst remaining quite liberal in practice. Robinson regarded this as being worth braving her explosive temper.

Entering the Sovereign's Warp Engine Room, he found Giorgianni closing the dilithium crystal articulation frame, her long red hair bound in twin ponytails at the lower back of her head, her protective goggles shielding her easily irritated green eyes. When she saw him, her expression was one of open annoyance.

"May I ask what brings you here?" she demanded to know.

"Senior Captain Giorgianni," Robinson asked, deciding he had better get to his point quickly, "is it possible for you to combine a hypospray with a heavy-duty spray applicator?"

"GOOD LORD!!" gasped Giorgianni. "You're mad!" She was visibly stunned at what she had just heard. "You're completely insane!"

"Never mind about my mental stability, Senior Captain--or lack of same thereof--all I want to know is if you can do it. And so help me, if I find out that you can't, then I'll just have to find someone else aboard who can!"

Giorgianni reluctantly backed down.

"Don't go getting all uppity on me, Robinson; I can do it. But if you ask me, and you haven't, I think you've gone off the deep end since Frio died."

"We're none of us totally insensitive to the loss," Robinson noted. "It's just that his last orders to me were to secure justice for him. This is part of that."

"May I ask what this makeshift super-injector is for?"

"No."

"Commander, as one of your superior officers, I have a right to know."

"Maybe you do, Traci," Robinson retorted, emphasizing the Chief Engineer's personal name testily. "But I am the Federation Intelligence Agency's primary representative aboard this vessel, and as such, I can tell you for a fact that you don't have a need to know." Seeing that Giorgianni was almost ready to explode in rage, he added, "Fleet Captain Siandierra doesn't have a need to know either, if that's any comfort to you."

Controlling herself with effort, Giorgianni said, "Thanks. But it's no comfort."

"You remind me of that time in the 2260s when James Kirk gave orders to your hero to perform a cold restart of the Enterprise I's warp engines within eight minutes, instead of the thirty minutes that were needed for a cold warp-engine restart in those days, to prevent it from being destroyed in Psi 2000's gravitational pull," Robinson noted. "He reminded Kirk that he couldn't change the laws of physics--but that wasn't what Kirk WANTED him to do."

The Star Fleet Rangers Service senior captain broke into a wide smile and actually giggled. "I see your point, Chris. Kirk wanted Scotty to improvise a different start-up procedure for the engines after Kevin Riley shut them down completely under the influence of the Psi 2000 virus, and that was exactly what Scotty did."

"An untested intermix formula that was based on the relationship between time and antimatter, which if it worked as predicted would cause a controlled implosion of the warp engines, was the key to that alternate start-up procedure. It worked, the engines imploded, and we gained an ability to travel backwards in time that didn't depend on the light-speed breakaway factor."

"Nothing to worry about, then, Chris," Giorgianni said, as pleasantly as she could. "You just give me the hypo, and I'll have it combined with the heavy-duty spray applicator in no time."

Robinson handed her the hypo and walked out.

* * * * *

In Siandierra's ready room, Robinson was confessing to the Commanding Officer, "I had my misgivings the second I heard that Admiral Vosseller's report did not mention Vorta. I called for Condition Green, meaning both that we were in trouble and that we were NOT to be assisted, because of the indigenous population of the planet. This was one occasion when the Prime Directive interfered with our mission."

"Do you want to trry again?"

"I can think of no better way to honor Frio than a second attempt to accomplish our mission. Only this time, we don't sneak around. This time our attack is an open one, with only natives of the planet kept ignorant of what we have in mind. The Dominion meant to set us up, and it almost did that."

"You'll be in command, if only because Admirral Vossellerr so orrderred it," Siandierra said. "You will have carrte blanche as to methods and perrsonnel."

"Before I prepare for the mission, there is a ceremony I've promised Telsek. I'll want him to take over Frio's post in a similar ceremony to the transfer-of-command ceremony."

"Then gearr up in yourr full-drress uniforrm, Commanderr."

Robinson walked out of the ready room with relief. "It will be my satisfaction."

* * * * *

As 18:00 hours struck on board the Sovereign, Siandierra Anjulee Beautelier's entire command crew, let alone for Commander FrioDraca, Duke Draca of Fesoan, had assembled in an office next to the ship's main brig. This had been the office FrioDraca had called his own when he was not performing bridge duties. Siandierra handed Christopher Thomas Robinson a personal displayer, with an isolinear optical chip on which she had inscribed her orders.

"Lieutenant Commanderr RRobinson, you may prroceed," said she.

"Commander Telsek K'Mar," Robinson declared, "you are hereby officially requested and required to assume the duties and privileges of the post of Chief Security & Tactical Officer of the United Space Ship Sovereign as of this date and this time, eighteen:hundred hours on October Eighteenth, Two Thousand, Three Hundred and Seventy-Four, by order of Fleet Captain Siandierra Anjulee Beautelier, Commanding Officer of same."

"I officially honor that request and meet that requirement," Telsek responded.

"Raise your right hand and repeat after me: You, Telsek K'Mar, do solemnly swear--"

"I, Telsek K'Mar, do solemnly swear--"

"--that you will preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets and its Articles Of Federation--"

"--that I will preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets and its Articles Of Federation--"

"--against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that you may encounter--"

"--against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that I may encounter--"

"--that you will render full and unconditional obedience to the same--"

"--that I will render full and unconditional obedience to the same--"

"--that you will sacrifice your life to this end if necessary--"

"--that I will sacrifice my life to this end if necessary--"

"--and that you take this oath freely and without reservation."

"--and that I take this oath freely and without reservation."

"Computer, transfer all Security Division command codes and protocols and all Tactical Division command codes and protocols from Lieutenant Commander Christopher Thomas Robinson to Commander Telsek K'Mar. Authorization Robinson delta-four."

Two seconds later, the computer voice responded, "TRANSFER COMPLETE. SECURITY & TACTICAL DIVISIONS OF U. S. S. SOVEREIGN NOW UNDER COMMAND OF COMMANDER TELSEK K'MAR."

"I relieve you, sir," said Telsek.

"I stand relieved, sir," was Robinson's response.

"Allow me to welcome you to the unofficial Vulcan colony aboard ship," said Selek, raising his right hand in Vulcan salute. "Live long, Telsek K'Mar, and prosper."

"Peace and long life," Telsek said as he returned the salute.

Robinson turned to Telsek. "You'll find me to be enthusiastic for my duties and, as a result, highly impetuous--and prone to crossing lines of duty and chain of command that my superiors may draw. Indeed, my permanent service record includes the transcriptions of a court-martial that I went through, and in which I was convicted, for just such conduct."

"I know your record, Robinson," Telsek pointed out. "Remember, Chip is my FIA control too."

Robinson was stunned. "You're a company man?"

Telsek nodded.

"I don't believe this," the human went on. "A kindred spirit."

"Not exactly," the Vulcan-Romulan corrected. "Not with my background in the Star Fleet Rangers Service."

"That was your specialized training?"

"Yes."

"What approach did your drill instructors take to that training?"

"How do you mean?"

"My drill instructor, the late and lamented FrioDraca, was primarily a rifleman, being a Star Fleet Marine, and he trained me to be one too."

"The Star Fleet Rangers are more of a close-quarters combat service. We are all considered primarily close-quarters combatants and are trained as such."

"You're gonna need to use that training when we go back to the surface to take out that facility, trap or no trap. Jem'Hadar are a pret-ty tough lot, as soldiers go."

"That toughness is part of their breeding," Telsek noted. "Their physical strength and endurance levels are fifteen percent higher than the pan-humanoid norm. They are also bred to possess accuracy with small firearms that is twelve point five percent higher than the mean Star Fleet average."

A new voice interjected, "An ugly thug with a gun is still an ugly thug."

It was Giorgianni. She held the makeshift super-injector in her right hand--and its pressurization bottle was completely filled with ketracel-white.

"I finished this contraption five minutes before you began the ceremony," she went on. "I had to do all the work myself, since I don't have a weapons specialist on my team."

Telsek had frozen in position of attention at the sound of Giorgianni's voice. She gave him a nod that called for him to continue as he had been. Thus allowed to relax, he turned to her.

"You do now. Me."

Robinson rolled his eyes upwards. "You're just full of surprises, huh, Telsek?"

"The element of surprise is a crucial one in Ranger training."

"That it is," Giorgianni confirmed, "but I understand you lost the element of surprise the first time."

"No, we didn't, Senior Captain," Robinson corrected.

Telsek confirmed, "We had never possessed it in the first place. And to assume that you can lose that which you had never originally possessed is not logical."

Giorgianni grinned comprehendingly. "Welcome to my team."

Robinson raised his own hand in Vulcan salute. "Here's hoping you'll see fit to furnish my fellow Star Fleet Marines with the same weaponsmithing skills you're already committed to employing for the benefit of your fellow Star Fleet Rangers."

"He will, Chris," Giorgianni said. Then she added, more sternly, to Telsek, "And that's an order. There'll be no rivalry between strategic and tactical units of Star Fleet on this ship."

"What with the Breen and the Vorta on the side of the Dominion," Telsek conceded, "this Fleet has a greater need than ever for the services of the weaponsmith. I am a weaponsmith."

"As I said before," Robinson repeated as he turned to resume his Star Fleet Marine Class C fatigues, "full of surprises."

* * * * *

In Class C fatigues less than fifteen minutes later, Robinson was with five junior personnel of Star Fleet Marine Strike Group Number Seven Hundred And Ninety-One, the "Dragon Scouts." All wore black berets identical to his own on their heads, differentiated only by the presences of gold chevrons to indicate enlisted ranks on the stiffener panels, over the SFMC patches, on the berets of three of these junior personnel, and the presences of gold circles, in the same places, on those of the other two junior personnel. The stiffener panel of Robinson's own beret bore, over the patch, the gold diamond-shaped lozenge of a major in the Corps. On the right sleeves of the Class C fatigues worn by all six were black rectilinear patches, showing the red dragon of the Sovereign holding the old SFMC logo in his claws, but with the words "Star Fleet Marines" replaced with "MSG791." On their left sleeves were circular badges that bore the four "hepts" of a poker deck of playing cards, so called because all had seven pips, arranged in the sequence spade, diamond, club, and heart, and surmounted by a red Hindu-Arabic numeral seven and ringed with the motto: "WE'D RATHER BE GOOD THAN LUCKY. FORTUNATELY, WE'RE BOTH!"

This in turn was ringed with the legend: "'THE LUCKY SEVENS'--7TH BRIGADE SFMC."

"Fleet Captain Siandierra has instructed us to knock out the defenses of that ketracel-white facility, allowing the ship to fire the armament that will actually destroy it," Robinson was saying as the Star Fleet Marines under his command were mounting the platform of Transporter Room One, rifles in hands. "Commander Telsek and five of his fellow Star Fleet Rangers will be joining us, with Telsek supervising the base we'll establish near the perimeter. Marine Captain Washington, have you prepared the trilithium bomb we'll plant to take out the defense system?"

"Behind you, Major," said the young black man with three gold circles on his beret. Robinson turned to look behind himself, and saw a massive canister with a small plug-in module at the top. The Star Fleet Marine captain went on, "I had to synthesize the explosive from paralithium, since our engine core doesn't produce enough trilithium waste resin for the purpose."

"How did you manage to obtain enough dilithium, or decay it into paralithium, for your purposes?" Robinson asked.

"I had a fellow Marine appropriate the cargo of a dilithium smuggler starship," the junior officer answered. "Then I prevailed upon the Corps Commandant to permit me to keep the cargo for use aboard ship."

The SFMC major relaxed visibly. Ten metric tonnes of dilithium were on board, all from that impounded cargo. He could guess the rest. Reasoning that the 791st would need a trilithium bomb in the future, the junior officer had prevailed upon Siandierra to allow him to use one of the cargo holds for a "breeder reactor" for paralithium and trilithium, with All Of One sharing the Borg's knowledge of the means of synthesis of both to assist him in that particular venture.

He made a mental note to thank the CO and the XO for their assistance in this mission, minor though it might be.

Aloud he said, "You've done well, James. Semper fi!"

"SEMPER FI!" roared the other five in response. This was short for semper fidelis, Latin for "always faithful," the ancient motto of the United States Marine Corps of old Earth.

"Let's get this bomb on the center pad," Robinson ordered. He turned to seize one of its two handles.

"Done," said the SFMC captain addressed as James Washington. He dismounted the platform and seized the other handle. Together, the two SFMC officers brought the heavy, awkward explosive device off the transporter room deck and onto the transport platform's center pad. Once it was in place, the two assumed their respective positions on two of the six peripheral pads on the platform.

"Do you have the coordinates to which we transported last time?" the major asked the operator, a Support Services Section petty officer first class.

"You're all set," the petty officer working the controls responded. "Standing by to energize."

Tapping his communicator badge pin, Robinson asked, "Commander Telsek, are your Rangers assembled?"

"We are as well-prepared as we will ever be," was the response. "I even have a micro-transporter and several holomonitors ready, to keep track of the progress of this mission and provide any necessary equipment desired." This last was a reference to the super-injector of ketracel-white that Giorgianni had cobbled together for Robinson's use.

"Then let's not waste any more time," Robinson said. "Admiral Vosseller's gonna be mighty angry if the dragon doesn't torch that facility." To the petty officer behind the transporter controls, he went on, "Execute."

The petty officer swiped down the touch-pad sliders.

* * * * *

Robinson's Marines and Telsek's Rangers materialized within fifteen meters of each other's positions. Telsek was already setting up the equipment as he ordered his Rangers, "Take that bomb and head off towards the facility." Two of them were already complying.

"All right, spread out," Robinson ordered. "Try to find the Jem'Hadar who have this booby-trap in place. Look especially for the Jem'Hadar who offed Colonel Frio. When you find him, let me know where he is, but don't take any action against him. He's mine, and mine alone--understood?"

"Yes, SIR!!" came the response from the 791st's enlisted personnel and junior officers.

Turning to Telsek, Robinson noted, "As soon as the 791st finds the Jem'Hadar who burned Frio, you're to use that micro-transporter to bring the super-injector to the surface from the ship and beam it to me. But ONLY if you can get a clear lock on my position, and not till after he and I are together. I don't need to remind you of what can go wrong if you mess this up."

"That you do not. I shall endeavor to be as accurate as possible."

"Get your Rangers involved in this search too; they'll be under the same orders as my Marines." The SFMC major sighed wistfully. "If only Light Colonel All Of One weren't too busy back aboard ship to supervise this whole operation."

"It was for that reason that Fleet Captain Siandierra sent me to the surface in his stead."

Turning back to his Marines, Robinson yelled, "All right, let's do it! Go! GO! GO!" Then he ran off after them as they scattered, rifles in hand, to find the Jem'Hadar and finish the job Vosseller had ordered them to do. Before long, three enlisted personnel of the 791st got in touch with Robinson. One of these, the Klingon Elvass, snapped gruffly, "We have contact with three Jem'Hadar Special Forces soldiers, one of whom appears to be Colonel FrioDraca's killer."

"Stand by," Robinson snapped back. "I'm coming to your position--cover me."

"Copy," Elvass acknowledged. "You can lock onto our positions from my communicator signal."

Robinson broke out his tricorder and snapped it open. Conducting a sweep of the area, he locked onto Elvass's position, all right--the Jem'Hadar had not altered their location in the least. They were where they had been when FrioDraca had been shot to his death. "Won't give up your precious 'white,' eh?" he mused mockingly, with a grim smile. "Well, at least one of your number is gonna find out the hard way that ketracel-white is a deadly poison in excess. And if I'm right, Doctor Who is gonna have a cause of death that can be studied in more detail." He charged towards the position of Elvass and the other two enlisted men.

* * * * *

Three minutes later, Robinson rendezvoused with Elvass and the other two. Elvass pointed left. Sure enough, FrioDraca's murderer was amongst the three; the SFMC major would have known that horrible Jem'Hadar mockery of SFMC Lieutenant Colonel FrioDraca's countenance anywhere.

Back at the base, Telsek was watching the whole tableau through Robinson's holomonitors. Use of any such holomonitor was normally discouraged on missions like this, since secrecy was supposed to take precedence over execution. But Robinson was intent on keeping an accurate record of what happened, even if that record ended up being classified.

"You three divert the other two," he ordered. "Make them pursue you. The third is mine."

"Aye, sir." This from Elvass.

Taking up positions left and right of the three Jem'Hadar, Elvass and the other two enlisted men commenced firing wildly, without discernible pattern. The lead Jem'Hadar snapped to the other two, "Find those Federationals. Shoot them down. The leader is my concern."

"Obedience is victory," the other two responded in unison as they headed out after Elvass and his compatriots. The latter two broke and ran, taking two different directions and firing behind them in order to confuse their Jem'Hadar pursuers. That left only the Jem'Hadar at whose hands FrioDraca had died. He held up his rifle as if to fire it on what he knew to be Robinson's position.

As Telsek watched, the Jem'Hadar, evidently a "first," declared, "Come on out, Federational--and drop your rifle. There is nowhere you may go now."

A phaser rifle hurtled out of the shadows, and Robinson followed it, his hands up. "Here, 'Honored Elder,'" he sneered. "Is this what you want?"

"Only if you're ready to die," the Jem'Hadar retorted blandly. "And somehow, you don't seem to be. Not in the same way your friend appeared as though he was."

Robinson paused to remove his beret and wipe sweat from his forehead with his outer tunic's right sleeve. The Jem'Hadar who had murdered FrioDraca in cold blood stood there, impassively, waiting to see what this Alpha Quadrant resident would do next.

For his part, Telsek kept his hands ready on the micro-transporter controls. The super-injector that Giorgianni had constructed was ready to deliver its deadly overdose of ketracel-white at Robinson's signal. All its intended wielder needed to do, in order to use it against its intended target, was get within arm's reach of the Jem'Hadar.

"You're not quite the Star Fleet Marine I thought you were, Major Robinson," the Honored Elder Jem'Hadar first went on. "Few Star Fleet Marines drop their rifles that quickly."

"You know, Jem'Hadar, you really annoy me," said Robinson as he resumed his beret. "It is true that we Star Fleet Marines are all primarily riflemen by philosophy and training, but I'm a Special Operations Marine. That means I don't necessarily need my rifle to kill."

"The Founders know of your Corps philosophy and traditions," the Jem'Hadar remarked. "They created us Jem'Hadar to outfight the likes of you and your Star Fleet, your Star Fleet Marine Corps, and your Star Fleet Rangers Service." As he spoke, he approached Robinson more closely. But at this stage, he took care to stay beyond arm's reach of the SFMC major.

Telsek stood, in frustration that was not visible on his countenance. This was not logical. He could not guess what the Jem'Hadar was doing or know what Robinson had planned; he knew Jem'Hadar were not telepathic with humans, as his own mother had been and as he himself was.

"Even hand-to-hand?" taunted Robinson with a sneer.

At that, the Jem'Hadar lost what little composure he had left and lunged at Robinson, snarling, "ESPECIALLY HAND-TO-HAND!" As he shouted his words, he scratched at Robinson with a clawed right hand, striking the other man's neck with his finger-nails and almost rupturing the human's carotid artery. But the major had expected the Jem'Hadar to do exactly that, and was leaping back even as his opponent jumped. Before the Jem'Hadar could pull his arm free, Robinson had grabbed it and was twisting it behind the mass-clonee's back in the classic half-nelson position.

The Jem'Hadar whipped back his head to butt Robinson in the forehead. The impact almost broke Robinson's eye-shields and eye-glasses and made him grimace in pain. But he did not relax his grasp--indeed, he strained with might and main till with a loud snap the Jem'Hadar's upper right arm broke in the middle, the bone tearing through the soft tissue and opening a gaping wound that made the mass-clonee howl in excruciating pain.

Only then did Robinson release his grip.

Telsek immediately swiped the touch-slider for energization.

The beaming control had to be perfect; if the super-injector materialized around Robinson's hand, he would need to have it amputated, and worse, the major would become addicted to ketracel-white himself.

But fortune favored the reckless, and the super-injector materialized in, not around, its intended wielder's hand.

Taking the one-liter bottle into his left hand and holding the hypo control with his right, he asked the Jem'Hadar, "Do you wish you had a large dose of white available to you?"

"Yes," the Jem'Hadar groaned in a hoarse whisper. "Anything to take the edge off."

"You know," Robinson said with a deliberation that frightened the Vulcan-Romulan, "there is one depressing fact I have learned about persons of any biology who have an addictive dependence upon the presence of any given chemical substance in their bodies." He brought the super-injector towards the spot in the Honored Elder's neck that corresponded to the carotid artery in humans. "It's that they have an extremely unfortunate tendency to develop a tolerance to that particular substance, and once they have done so, they need larger and larger doses to have the same effect, till eventually they bring about their own deaths from a MASSIVE OVERDOSE!!!" With that he slammed the hypo nozzle against the Jem'Hadar's neck and squoze the injector control with both his thumbs.

The Honored Elder Jem'Hadar first, as he was suddenly stricken with a massive overdosage of ketracel-white, froze in position--it looked now as though his every nerve ending were exploding in pain all at the same time.

Telsek watched in horror at the naked savagery of the act.

He had difficulty believing what he was seeing, and even for all his distaste for Jem'Hadar, he could not avoid feeling sorry for this one, logic or no.

"DO YOU JEM'HADAR ALL HEAR ME???" Robinson shouted in continuation as the rage he still felt over the death of his friend took over. "ALAS, POOR FRIODRACA!!!" He dug his right knee deeply into the Jem'Hadar's back. "THIS ONE'S FOR HIM AND ME!!!"

Even as he forced the deadly overdosage of ketracel-white into the Jem'Hadar's bloodstream, soul-rending agony and horror swept through Robinson.

What he was willfully doing to this alien marked the first time in eighty-five years that he had directly killed another sapient being, and he could not avoid allowing his memories of the deed, or his agony or horror over having to kill another person, to blend with his rage over FrioDraca's death.

At length the super-injector was completely emptied. Robinson dropped it and collapsed on top of the corpse of the now-dead Jem'Hadar. But this was not exhaustion--the major had fainted.

Telsek ran over to Robinson's position and knelt near his new shipmate.

* * * * *

Siandierra was puzzled on hearing the news from Telsek less than an hour later, when all were back on board. By then, all the Jem'Hadar were dead, the ketracel-white facility was in ruins, and the corpse of the Jem'Hadar Robinson had killed was in Keemer's autopsy morgue in the SickBay. Siandierra had dismissed Telsek, and she and Robinson were now alone in her ready room.

"Let me get this strraight," said she. "I have a squeamish Intelligence Officerr?"

"Captain, it's not like that," Robinson insisted. "You remember the story I told you about how Frio's grandfather, CaboDraca, suffered his leg injury trying to protect me as I was leaving my own time behind? And the Andorian nobleman who infiltrated Star Fleet, Lieutenant Tholon, who inflicted that leg injury ON CaboDraca, and whose grandson Thulon tried to get revenge for his grandfather's death by framing me for Jay Ansky's murder?"

"What does that have to do with it?"

"IT'S THE SECOND TIME I'VE EVER TAKEN ANOTHER INTELLIGENT LIFE, AND I STILL CAN'T SHAKE HOW HORRIFIED I WAS THE FIRST TIME!" Robinson was shaking with rage at his failure to steel himself for having had to kill. "I'VE COMMITTED TWO COUNTS OF GENERAL CRIME NUMBER TWO IN MY LIFETIME--AND LAST TIME I CHECKED STAR FLEET LAW, THERE WAS NO STATUTE OF LIMITATIONS ON MURDER!!"

"Orrdinarrily, I'd agrree with you." Siandierra herself looked ready to kill. "BUT THIS IS WARR!" Her golden eyes blazed with rage that Telsek had not seen before. "In the courrse of warr, people die, and people have to make decisions they arre not prroud of. Basically, I'm a peaceful crreaturre, but I've had to give orrderrs that have sent a numberr of my shipmates to theirr deaths. The Prrey knows I've sufferred since this warr began, and the Prrey knows my crrew has had to go thrrough hell fighting it. But if you can't cope with all the horrrrorr that comes with duty on boarrd my ship, maybe you don't belong in this Fleet at all!"

"BLAST IT, FLEET CAPTAIN SIANDIERRA, WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, WAR IS ONE THING, BUT MURDER IS QUITE ANOTHER!!!" Robinson exploded, barely able to form words. "What I did to that Jem'Hadar sank below and outside merely avenging Frio's death. I didn't WANT to have to answer my own question about whether Jem'Hadar could overdose on ketracel-white!"

Siandierra's hostile expression suddenly broke. "It doesn't rreally matterr." She favored Robinson with a smile that was almost motherly, in spite of the prominence of her ailuroid fangs. "You did what you had to do. As did we all. Frrio's murrderr has been rretrributed, and justice has been serrved."

That took much of the anger out of Robinson. He had been making a solid frontal attack against his own legal status because of the naked savagery of his hate-filled attack on the Jem'Hadar and now he suddenly found himself confronting an entirely different opponent. All he could say now was, "Request relief from duties."

"Grranted," said Siandierra. "What you did could not have been easy on you, but it had to be done. I'll be wrriting a letterr of commendation into yourr perrmanent serrvice rrecorrd for the way you carrrried out Frrio's deathbed orrderrs."

Robinson said nothing.

He merely got up, his face ashen with pallor, and left the Commanding Officer's ready room, shaken and beaten-looking.

"There will have to be a funeral for my predecessor," Telsek said after Robinson had gone. "Logic demands that he have some form of closure. Also, it would be best for Robinson if he were to deliver FrioDraca's eulogy."

"AFTERR he's washed his mind clean of what he's done," Siandierra disputed. "If I know him, he'll go immediately to ourr Counselorr. If she can't help him get overr it, the Prrey knows who can."

* * * * *

Robinson was with the Counselor within minutes of having been granted relief from his duties.

"YOU were the one who said, 'General Order Two be hanged,'" she reminded him.

"That was before the horror of what I'd done sank in," was his response. "When I was in the field, I butchered that Jem'Hadar. I--I tortured him in bringing about his death!" He rolled an anguished gaze upwards. "All I can hope is that the Dominion eventually crumbles under the weight of its own evil, no matter how it otherwise fares in this war."

"That is possible, I have to admit, but don't look for miracles. I hear from some Star Fleet channels that there's about to be a massive assault on the Chin'toka star system."

"With my fellow Star Fleet Marines and Senior Captain Giorgianni's fellow Star Fleet Rangers taking part?" Robinson's mood eased visibly. "They're gonna have to fight long and hard to wipe out an orbital weapons platform there."

"They'll do a lot worse damage than you could possibly do, that's for sure."

"You have my word, Counselor--not a word about this from me." He got up to go.

"Are you all right?" Estrazhi asked in concern.

"Yes." Robinson looked at the Betazoid with peering eyes over the tops of his eye-shields. "You've reminded me not to worry about having no boots--there are people with no legs in this galaxy."

* * * * *

FrioDraca's funeral services aboard the Sovereign were held as the Type II exploration dreadnought was heading back to the Epsilon Indi star system, whose political identity, the Epsilon Indi Star Empire, was one of the five permanent members of the Federation Council and on whose eighth planet, Andor a.k.a. Andoria a.k.a. Fesoan, the Andorian noble had been born. As his grandfather, CaboDraca, and his father, CryptoDraca, had both been dukes of the royal gene pool, and as he himself had been one, the former Chief Security & Tactical Officer was entitled to two funeral services. The first was now in progress aboard the Sovereign itself; the second would be held on the world that had been his birthplace and which he had called his home. The services would be climaxed with a twenty-one-gun salute, from both the Star Fleet Marines and the Star Fleet Rangers, to their fallen compatriot. In his all-black full-dress uniform, with black gloves over his hands, Robinson looked almost like a dead man himself. In his powerful voice, he was declaring, "After the Sovereign was launched into the Seventh Fleet, Frio realized that he was wasting his training in the Star Fleet Marines by not organizing a Marine Strike Group or Marine Expeditionary Unit assigned aboard this vessel. So he organized Marine Strike Group Number Seven Hundred and Ninety-One, the 'Dragon Scouts,' and dedicated its members to our principles of strength, wisdom, imagination, and fighting spirit. He recruited me into it, burned me clean in the Star Fleet Marines Crucible, and made me what I am. I owe him my own life at least twenty times over.

"Though Frio could sometimes be too harsh on personnel like me, as he was on one occasion when he gave me illegal orders and forced me to go over his head to get a job done, he was a man of justice. He did not believe it a vain or empty sacrifice to give his life for the sake of the Federation when he was killed in this war, nor did he want us to waste time mourning. Instead, his last orders to me were to secure justice for his death, for as we are all too painfully aware, a representative of the Jem'Hadar, a race we currently consider an enemy, murdered him in cold blood. He would have wanted us to keep doing our jobs, as he did his. And we will not debate his profound wisdom at these proceedings, any more than James Kirk wished to debate Spock's wisdom when the Wrath Of Khan caused Spock's death from delta-particle radiation poisoning, from which the Genesis planet later regenerated the Star Fleet Chief Of Sciences.

"The results of Dr. Michael Keemer's autopsy of the Jem'Hadar who killed Frio, and whom I killed by deliberately overdosing him with ketracel-white in order to retribute Frio's death, will be duly transmitted to the Star Fleet Surgeon General's Office--but it must be noted that for this knowledge, we have paid with our dearest blood. The Surgeon General's Office may eventually find a way, based on the results of this autopsy, to cure the Jem'Hadar of their addiction to ketracel-white. If it does, the fact that FrioDraca gave his life for the cause of medicine will be duly noted in this Intelligence Officer's historical and medical logs." He paused, cleared his throat, and went on, "There is a song from old Earth's maritime history, to which Frio liked to listen on occasion. In centuries past, when the Post-Atomic Horror was only a dystopic nightmare of a possible future of Earth to which humans like my own ancestors wanted never to awaken, it was revised with rewritten lyrics devoted entirely to space travel. It was with these lyrics that the song became one of Frio's favorites, and it became mine too, using the same lyrics, as a direct result. I wish to sing it now, with these lyrics, as a final funeral dirge...for my friend. As you hear it, you are welcome to join me in serenading Frio's immortal soul to his final resting place with this 'grateful dead.'"

He commenced to sing.

"Eternal Father, strong to shield,

"'Gainst whom all space and time doth yield,

"Whose hand didst shape the Universe

"And grant its planets life diverse;

"Oh hear our cry and grant Thy grace

"To those in peril out in space."

By now the other humans present recognized the melody of "Eternal Father," one of the oldest maritime hymns of Christendom on Earth, and they were blending their voices with his own, tears in their eyes. And Robinson was right, Siandierra realized; that hymn, with its re-written lyrics, had been one of FrioDraca's favorite songs. The Intelligence Officer, as the realization came to his shipmates, continued singing.

"Good Christ, who guidest galaxies

"And taught all life to live in peace,

"Who gave to us our faith in Thee

"So science with its eyes may see,

"Oh hear our cry from near and far

"For those in peril in the stars."

Even All Of One could not avoid the presence of moisture around the corners of his eyes as his voice joined those of his shipmates.

"Most Holy Spirit who art there

"In abs'lute zero without air,

"Who givest us our wings for flight

"And help'st us cross the speed of light,

"Oh hear our voice where dwell'st no sound

"For those in peril on the ground."

Only Telsek, who did not recognize the music, and Selek, who did, remained silent and aloof. But their faces were lowered in Vulcanoid acknowledgement of the sorrow that their shipmates were sharing.

Oblivious to their detachment, Robinson kept on singing.

"Great Trinity of love and power,

"Protect us all in danger's hour

"From nova, black hole, cold and foe,

"Protect us wherever we go;

"That we may sing with joyful sound

"In hymns of praise from stars and ground."

By this time, the Sovereign had reached Epsilon Indi and was now entering orbit around its eighth planet. Robinson finished singing and brought the boatswain's whistle to his lips.

But when he blew it this time, the sequence of the three sounds, while still all on the note of E flat, sounded like "WHEE-hyuh-WHEE." The first sound lasted two seconds; the second, which this time was one octave below the first and the third in tone, lasted one second; and the third and last lasted two seconds. This was the sequence used to pipe debarking passengers off board. Then he lowered the whistle, returning to attention; as he did, the heels of his dress boots clicked with a loud crack. In a cracked voice, he snapped in conclusion, "Order--hup!"

Giorgianni turned to Telsek and twelve of her Star Fleet Rangers, all of whom held cobra-headed phaser pistols, and All Of One turned to Robinson and five of his Star Fleet Marines, all of whom were armed with phaser rifles.

"By the numbers, commence firing," Giorgianni snapped, then called out the numbers one through twenty-one. As she called out the numbers, she, All Of One, Telsek, Robinson, and the other Star Fleet Rangers and Star Fleet Marines fired short pulses with their weapons. After the last pulse had been fired, All Of One ordered, "Cease firing and collect arms."

All twenty-one of the armed personnel brought their weapons back to their sides. As they did, Siandierra tapped her communicator badge pin and said, "Enerrgize." At her order, the transporter operator swept down the touch-pad sliders. The terminium-alloy photon torpedo casing that was FrioDraca's coffin became enveloped in scintillating light and was gone.

With the transport of the coffin to the surface of Andor, all other hands filed out of the spacious lounge at the forwardmost point of the Sovereign. Robinson was the last to leave. Before he left, he pulled off his black Star Fleet Marine beret and held it over his chest. His voice was a whisper that could barely be heard, even by him.

"Good-bye, Duke Commander FrioDraca," he said. "You are missed."

He headed back to his own quarters.