Tales of Starfleet
Angels and Lionesses
Part 1
by Phillip Barlow
(p.barlow@ic.ac.uk)

Angels and Lionesses Part 1

The room was pitch black, with the exception of one bright light shining down on the circular table in the centre. Arranged around it, at equal intervals, were eight high backed chairs, of which five were occupied. The five individuals around the table were all strangers to each other, with no clue apparent as to who they might be or what their purpose was. Of the five, two were human, one with fair skin, and the other with dark. Of the other three, there was a huge Klingon, who could not stop fidgeting, an Andorian, whose antennae were in constant motion, and a Trill. Each eyed the others with suspicion; the Andorian maintain a permanent sneer, particularly in the direction of the Klingon, who responded by every so often paring his teeth and growling. The other three though made no such open displays.

"I suspect you're wondering why you've been brought here," said the disembodied voice. "That can be answered right away." A door opened in the blackness, creating a square of light in which were silhouetted three figures. They entered and, it appeared to the five, disappeared into the gloom. Then suddenly, the three empty chairs around the table were occupied. On either side of the figure at the head of the table sat a human male. One was short, with fair skin and hair and an expression that seemed to be set as a permanent smirk. The other also had fair skin, but dark hair and favoured the assembly with a continuous scowl. However, the face of the man at the centre was obscured by the darkness.

"For purposes of security, I've instructed that none of you should reveal your names to each other. Instead, you will use the names I provide you with." He beckoned to the two flanking him, who rose and began walking around the table, placing nameplates before the other five. They placed one each at their own places before resuming their seats.

"OK," said the dark skinned human, "why are we here?"

"Patience," replied the shadowy figure. "I believe some introductions are in order. Gentlemen, may I present Mr White," he said, pointing to the dark skinned human. "Mr Black," the fair skinned human," Mr Brown," the Trill, "Mr Orange," the Andorian, "and Mr Green," the Klingon."

"What about those two?" asked Mr Green, indicating the two beside the head of the table.

"These are my associates, Mr Ell," indicating the dark haired individual, "and Mr Aitch." He then leaned forward, but only enough that his mouth and chin entered the light, leaving the rest of his face in shadow. "Me you may call Mr Big."

Faye Tozer lay on the bed in her hotel room with a broad grin on her face. She tried to think about everything that had happened since she got up that morning, but her mind kept returning to one thing in particular. She wasn't sure if it was the sun on Risa, or something in the water, or even the freedom of being on vacation on the Alpha Quadrant's planet of hedonistic pleasure, but she was certain she had never acted this way before, especially with someone she had only known for two weeks.

It was all so different to when she arrived. Initially, she had only planned a week on Risa to attend a conference on weapons theory that Captain Caret had felt useful. However, when she had told the captain of her intention, he had put on his best frown.

"That would be seriously inconvenient," he'd said. "We have a mission to begin the study of the Kraeton Phenomenon which is supposed to last three weeks. Now you're asking us to take time to come and pick you up, and possibly disrupt our entire investigation. No, you have leave due; take some and have a vacation." Faye had started to protest until Caret fixed her with one of his notorious stares. So, she acquiesced and took two weeks leave in addition to her week at the conference. The conference itself had been interesting, but hardly much fun and, by the end of the week, Faye had found herself looking longingly out of the window of the conference hall at the tennis courts across the way. She had wanted to improve her game for the next time she played Mara, which would happen the next time the Intrepid docked at Deep Space Nine. Within half an hour of the final session of the conference finishing, she had booked herself two hours of court time on every day for the next two weeks. Then she saw the tennis coach. He was a Bajoran named Jarel, and he looked every inch the professional athlete, even more so through living on Risa, where the sun shone every day. Faye was a good tennis player - indeed, she was good enough to qualify for Starfleet's amateur tournament, but the effect that Jarel had on her from the beginning caused her to play as if she had never held a racquet before. She had not intended to indulge in any of Risa's more notorious pursuits when she arrived but, as soon as her first tennis lesson was over, she went straight out and purchased a Horga'hn.

After a week, Faye had been having lunch and then dinner with Jarel, and had progressed to holding hands while walking on the beach. He had even invited her to the Earth of the 1920s ball, which would be on her last night on Risa and for which she had purchased an authentic looking short 'flapper' style dress and cloche hat, together with a 2ft string of pearls. Then had come today. Jarel had found someone to cover his lessons for the day and invited her for a picnic in a secluded cove away from the public parts of the beach. There, they ate food and talked until... Faye grinned even more broadly thinking about what had happened next. In fact, it had been so good it caused her feet to tingle. They were still tingling when she woke up, still on the beach, to find a rose and a handwritten note next to her. Faye looked over to the bedside table, where both now resided, and saw that the monitor was flashing silently, indicating there was a message to be read. 'Silly boy,' she thought as she slid across the bed to activate the screen. As she read the text though, her face fell.

To: Lt Faye Tozer, USS Intrepid
From: Office of Starfleet Operations

You are ordered to report to Commodore Carlos Angel Hernandez at 0800 on Stardate 54223. Arrangements for your transport to Earth have been prepared; you will rendezvous with starship USS Enterprise at 2200 local time on Stardate 54221.

Message Ends

She looked at her chronometer. That meant she had less than four hours to pack and check out of the hotel, not to mention... she looked at the rose on the table and, without warning, burst into tears.

Lisa Scott-Lee awoke in a panic. 'Oh bugger,' she thought. 'I can't see!' It was only as sensation began returning to her head and neck that she realised there was something covering her face. She pulled down her duvet, and immediately wished she hadn't. Why was someone shining a torch in her face? She tried focusing on whatever it was. With some difficulty (due to the fact that focusing her thoughts was as problematic as focusing her eyes) she realised that it wasn't a torch. In fact, it was one of the lights above her bed. Which, she decided through process of elimination, meant she was in her quarters aboard the Kitty Hawk. She then attempted to consider when it was, but the effort of figuring out where she was had used up a lot of energy. In any case, she couldn't really concentrate thanks to all of the banging going on in her head. She decided that a glass of water would probably be a good idea, so she got out of bed. Unfortunately, her problems extended to a distinct lack of coordination resulting in her not so much getting out of bed as falling out of bed. Lisa managed, with some effort, to rise up off the floor and trudge across the room to the replicator. 'Strange,' she thought as she passed the mirror. 'There's not usually such a draught.' She paused in front of the replicator.

"Water, 5 degrees Celsius." The device hummed, a little too loudly in her opinion, and a cold glass of water materialised in front of her. She picked it up and took a sip. Then, in one go, she drained the glass, and ordered another, and then a third. The action of drinking the water, as well as the re-hydration, seemed to give her brain a kick-start - the memory of the previous evening was coming back to her.

She had gone to Harry Kendall's leaving party. Harry was the senior flight controller on the Kitty Hawk, until he had received a promotion to Lt Commander and a posting as first officer of the starship Falcon. Before he was due to take up his new post though he was getting married. So, someone had thought it a good idea to hold a joint bachelor/leaving party. Whoever it was (and Lisa had her suspicions as to who it might be) had managed to smuggle aboard a barrel of best Klingon bloodwine, several cases of Romulan ale, Saurian brandy, Aldebaran whiskey, single malt scotch and some of the finest Bavarian beers. It was a good thing that Captain Richter was not on board, as he would have (probably literally) strung up whoever was responsible from the highest yardarm he could find. Although Richter was Bavarian himself, and enjoyed a mug of real beer when he was ashore, he absolutely forbad real alcohol aboard his ship. However, it wasn't just the alcohol; the music was loud and the party was rocking, so much so that it seemed to wake the majority of the skeleton crew (at least, those who weren't there). Some of the things that went on, as far as Lisa could recall, would result in conduct unbecoming charges if they ever came to light.

However, from that point, things became very blurred. She recalled that someone produced a game of Twister, in which she somehow managed to get involved, which got somewhat raucous. There was music, and a lot of dancing and jumping around, but the last thing she remembered with any clarity was stumbling through the door of her quarters; how she managed to find her way back there was a mystery.

It was as she was walking back to her bed that she noticed her reflection in the mirror. Her eyebrows shot up as she realised that the person staring back at her didn't appear to be wearing any clothes, which probably meant that she herself was in a similar state of undress. Why wasn't she wearing the new pyjamas that her parents had sent her? The groan that emanated from what appeared to be a long bolster in her bed provided her with an answer. Looking around frantically, she found her pyjama top lying on the floor, grabbed it and pulled it on, just as the bolster began pulling the duvet down.

"Harry!" Lisa gaped as Harry Kendall's head appeared. Harry stared back at her in confusion.

"Lisa, what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? These are my quarters!" Harry looked at her, then over her shoulder. There was a picture on the bulkhead that he didn't recognise. His eyes widened as he realised that these weren't his quarters. So, if he had spent the night here...he lifted the duvet to check if what he thought was actually true.

"Oh boy." It was then that he noticed the time on the wall- mounted chronometer; 10:14. Lisa followed his gaze, saw the time and almost fell off the chair she had sat on. She had been supposed to report to the captain at 10:00, to discuss the possibility of her becoming the ship's senior flight controller. As she grabbed her uniform, she noticed that her monitor was flashing silently. As she pulled her trousers on, she activated the screen and read the message.

To: Lt Lisa Scott-Lee, USS Kitty Hawk
From: Office of Starfleet Operations

You are ordered to report to Commodore Carlos Angel Hernandez at 0800 on Stardate 54223.

Message Ends

"Lisa, can we talk?" said Harry. Lisa got up from her chair.

"I have new orders," she said, looking at Harry. "Nothing happened Harry. Get dressed and go get married. I have to go."

Claire Richards sat in the twilight of dawn, watching the sunrise. As she did, she thought back over the last few hours. She hadn't anticipated things happening the way they did when the previous evening started. She and her two new roommates, Lara Syms and T'Mek, had spent their 72 hour pass from the Casper unpacking their new furniture and getting settled into their newly acquired house in London. By mid afternoon on the day before they were to report back to their ship, they had finished and, deciding some kind of celebration was in order, the three of them went out to dinner at the Café Royal. What hadn't been part of the plan was for Claire to be at the bar in the lounge getting a round of drinks, only to find herself on the end of a pick-up line from a man. Indeed, it wasn't even as if it was a good line. But there was something about him that Claire found herself drawn towards. So much so that, within five minutes of their meeting, she had made her apologies to her two companions and found herself walking with the man, who said his name was Tarin, into the heart of London's theatreland. The evening seemed to pass in a blur for Claire after that; Tarin seemed to sense exactly what she did and didn't like, which was how they ended up at her house sometime after midnight. No one had ever made her feel like that before and, by the time she fell asleep next to him, she decided that she wanted to feel that way a lot more.

Claire woke up just before dawn, with a significant tingling in her elbows, which was what always happened when she woke up after...she turned and found that she was the only person in the bed. That surprised her somewhat, until she figured that Tarin was probably in the bathroom or kitchen. She got up to check and found both T'Mek and Lara asleep, but no sign at all that Tarin had even been there. She didn't even find a note, something she found galling, until she saw a small piece of paper taped to the refrigerator - an envelope with her name on it. She opened it, but found to her dismay that it was a note from Lara telling her that there was a message waiting for her. She saw that one of the monitors was flashing silently. Activating the screen, she sat down and read the message.

To: Lt Claire Richards, USS Casper
From: Office of Starfleet Operations

You are ordered to report to Commodore Carlos Angel Hernandez at 0800 on Stardate 54223.

Message Ends

Claire was momentarily puzzled. She was supposed to report back to the Casper tomorrow, and here she was being ordered to meet some flag officer that she'd never heard of. But, she was a Starfleet officer who followed orders. Of more concern to her was Tarin's disappearance. What could have happened to him? She made herself a cup of tea and sat down to think. As she thought though, she came to a conclusion; one that made her feel...she wasn't sure, but, whatever it was, it didn't feel pleasant. Tarin had been so charming, and she had been so swept up by him. But she was evidently just a one-night stand to him. She realised that, whatever else she felt, above all she felt mad. So mad in fact that, if (though it was unlikely) she ever saw Tarin again, she knew she would bust him right in the nose. That thought made her feel better as she watched the sun come up. She heard someone enter the room and turned to see T'Mek approach.

"I trust you had a pleasant evening," said the Vulcan. Claire thought carefully before answering.

"Yes," she replied, which was true. She had had a pleasant evening. It was just this morning that sucked.

Lieutenant Khan watched the three young officers sitting in the three easy chairs in various parts of the outer office. All of them seemed to be focused on their own thoughts, but conscious enough to regard their surroundings. Each of them had been on time and, on seeing each other, had exchanged brief pleasantries before retreating into themselves. Although he was Commodore Hernandez's personal aide, he didn't know why his superior had summoned the three of them here. He knew though from experience that Hernandez would be observing the scene in the outer office, waiting for the right moment to summon them in. it was at that moment that a light on Khan's desk began flashing, indicating that he should show the three of them in.

"Commodore Hernandez will see you now." The three of them looked at each other in bewilderment before one of them, Tozer, spoke.

"Which one of us?"

"All of you." This caused them to look at each other again, before they all rose and followed Khan into the Commodore's office.

"Ladies, good morning. I hope you haven't been waiting too long." Commodore Hernandez rose from behind his desk and extended his arm, shaking hands with the three new arrivals. "Thank you Lieutenant." As Khan left, Hernandez motioned the three of them to the seats arranged in front of the desk. "I expect you're all wondering why you're here?" There were blank looks from the three of them. "In the last 18 months, Starfleet has been suffering from a shortage of experienced command officers, thanks to the losses in the war and others reaching retirement. We don't have enough people coming through with the experience to be captains and first officers." He paused, waiting for a response. When none came, he continued. "So, I've gone to Starfleet Command with a proposal. We have, at the moment, a massive shipbuilding program, to redress the losses we suffered in the war. Before Starfleet accepts those vessels into service however, they have to be tested, trialled and approved. The shipbuilder, whose word we have to accept, usually does this. That's where you come in." Again there was silence, although they were now looking at him intently. "My proposal is to take the most promising young officers in the fleet and have them command the new ships during their trials. This will allow them to gain experience of command while at the same time meaning Starfleet can be certain that the report on the readiness of the vessel is accurate."

"So, what does this have to do with us?" asked Claire.

"What we did was send requests to almost every starship captain in the fleet, asking them to nominate their best young command grade officers. Out of all those, we whittled them down to a handful. You three were at the top of the list. You three are the first recruits to Starfleet's fast track captain's program."