USS Sovereign
The Dragon Is Dead - Long Live the Dragon
by Parker Gabriel
(parker_gabriel@juno.com)

The Dragon Is Dead - Long Live the Dragon

THE HANDS WERE AROUND HIS THROAT.

"Why did you leave me for dead?" the angry voice was shouting directly into his own face. "WHY???" The repeated single word was a direct attack on him from beyond the grave, just like Thulon's. "WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY???"

"FRIO, FORGIVE ME!!!" came his own scream of answer--

* * * * *

--and Christopher Thomas Robinson was awake, soaked with sweat, and shaking in terror.

"My God," he whispered.

* * * * *

In the officers's mess compartment later that morning, Telsek K'Mar was alarmed at Robinson's haggard appearance.

"I thought you were supposed to be more spittle-and-polish than that, Commander," he remarked. "Instead, you resemble debris that a cat or a dog may bring into a residence."

"That description doesn't even begin to describe how I feel, sir. I passed the period from 23:45 hours to 07:00 hours fighting my own mind."

"You what?"

"Spent the night fighting my own mind. You don't hear that well even with your ears, do you, sir?"

Telsek glared at Robinson in profound disapproval. "Commander, if you will excuse me, I see no reason to sit here and be insulted!"

He rose and left the compartment.

* * * * *

Boarding the Main Bridge within the hour, Robinson sat down in front of a sciences station and tapped its console touchpads with an uncharacteristic listlessness.

"Commanderr RRobinson, frront and centerr!" Vice Admiral Siandierra Anjulee Beautelier, who had been Commanding Officer of the Sovereign for its entire service to date, suddenly snapped.

Frightened, Robinson rose from the chair with such suddenness that he almost toppled over in his attempt to get to his feet. "Uhh...ma'am?" he stammered.

"What in the name of the Prrey are you doing boarrding this Brridge blearry-eyed? Didn't you get enough sleep when off duty?"

"No, he did not," Telsek answered. "He told me earlier this hour that he spent his entire sleep period fighting his own mind. Those are his words, not mine."

Rising angrily from her own Command Chair, Siandierra stomped over to where Robinson barely stood. "RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWW!!!" she growled.

As he beheld those bared sharp fangs and ugly evil yellow eyes directly in front of his own face, Robinson quaked in his boots. "FRIO, FORGIVE ME!!!" he screamed.

Rising from his own chair, Fleet Captain All Of One walked over to Robinson and snapped, "What you have just said is not logical. Duke Commander FrioDraca is dead. You saw him die. Deal with it."

"I can't!" wailed the Intelligence Officer. "The nightmare that's been disturbing my sleep is ABOUT him!" Then--in a display that was completely out of character for such a dedicated professional as him--he broke down in tears. "Frio...sir...I'm sorry," he went on, as though addressing a ghost that only he could perceive. "That Jem'Hadar trap caught us ALL by surprise." But then rage crashed its way through his grief. "DAMN IT, DUKE COMMANDER FRIODRACA, THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME WHO DIED AT JEM'HADAR HANDS ON THAT PLANET INSTEAD OF YOU!!!"

This defused some of Siandierra's initial anger. She had been working up to what she thought was a solid reprimand and now suddenly confronted an entirely different situation.

"You hearrd the Numberr One," she said, more calmly but still sternly. "Deal with it. In fact, you'rre rrelieved." Fury again sharpened her words. "And don't let me catch you back aboarrd my Brridge till AFTERR you've seen Counselorr Estrrazhi!"

* * * * *

In Kesla T'Lija Estrazhi's office at 09:15 hours that day, Robinson was facing a Betazoid whose own latent psychosis was on the verge of resurfacing from the remission in which she tried to maintain it after she had heard what he had explained to her.

"You damned human-form Tellarite. Didn't we deal with all this once before?" As she spoke, she was drinking from a transparent mug of sweetened black tea with lemon juice mixed into it.

"That we did--you're right," Robinson explained. "But things are different now. You see, this may sound as though I need telepathic treatment or neural-neutralizer bombardment...but I have reason to believe FrioDraca may still be alive."

The Betazoid did a spit-take in shock, spraying the tea that she abruptly spat out of her mouth all over Robinson's outer and inner tunics.

Hard-pressed to restrain his nervous laughter, Robinson went on, "There were always elements about FrioDraca's death that I found rather suspicious. One was that he accepted our assignment without protest. In the brief time that I knew FrioDraca, I never knew him to volunteer for duty that he knew would definitely get him killed."

* * * * *

From inside a locker in the compartment that had once been FrioDraca's and was now Telsek's, there was a viewer active. Telsek was there, along with another man whose identity was concealed through the use of a vastly oversized loose-fitting black hood.

"Scarlet is getting too close to the truth," said Telsek. "And he is getting too close too soon."

"He will have to find out eventually," said the other man. "Incidentally--beautiful funeral service. If only I had been there in person."

"For now, he is getting too close too soon." Telsek opened a tricorder and whispered into it.

* * * * *

In her office, Kesla T'Lija Estrazhi suddenly rose and snarled, "This is all a waste of my time and yours. I'm declaring you psychologically unfit to return to duty till further notice."

"Counselor!"

"Get out, now, while I still have the composure to talk. GO!!!"

Robinson lost his own temper. "You bet I'm getting out," he growled. "To file a formal protest with the Federation Intelligence Agency!"

* * * * *

"He has not acquired a need to know yet!" Telsek declared. "He cannot be permitted to file that protest!"

"You do not know him as I do, my friend. He was court-martialed for bringing Twenty-Third Century approaches to Twenty-Fourth Century problems. And found guilty."

"What does that mean? Will he breach regulations to obtain what he desires?"

"He pointed out in his court-martial that regulations sometimes interfered with survival back in his own time. If he believes that regulations are interfering with his survival, then even I cannot predict his conduct."

Tapping his communicator badge pin, the Vulcan-Romulan called up the Main Bridge. "Telsek to Siandierra--Commander Robinson is to be confined to quarters and held incommunicado."

"Telsek, why in the Prrey's name are you telling me this on an un-securred channel? You know as well as I do that he could interrcept this trransmission."

"Not if he is forbidden to communicate with anyone."

* * * * *

Storming down the passageway, Robinson tapped his own communicator badge pin. "Site-to-site transport of one compression phaser rifle--energize."

A part-musical tinkling hum could be heard ahead of him, and as he approached the source of that hum, scintillating light faded and left behind his compression phaser rifle. He picked it up as he stormed down the passageway.

"I know the captain--and Mr. Telsek," he growled under his breath in continuation. "They're both gonna try to keep me incommunicado--" his voice became hideous and nasal-- "'in the interests of Star Fleet and Federation security.'" His voice resumed its normal timbre(the word is pronounced TAMM-burr), but remained as angry as ever. "Just LET them try!"

He boarded a turbolift. Once inside, he snapped, "Main Shuttle Hangar."

* * * * *

Telsek found the communicator badge pin within fifteen minutes. "Sound red alert--Commander Robinson has escaped!"

* * * * *

Just outside the ship, however, there was now a second ship. This one likewise had a bare-alloy finish, but it also had sky-colored and black markings. These read: VERITECH BATTLOID. NCC-75000-31M. MECHUM VERITECH BATTLOID-- STAR FLEET MARINE CORPS M.E.C.H.A. COMMAND.

It was under cloaking device, and Christopher Thomas Robinson was inside it.

"From inside your cockpit, my friend, I can monitor all communications aboard ship and even send messages myself," Robinson was saying.

"Why don't you?" said a male voice, that of the onboard control computer. It sounded very much like Robinson's own, but was deeper, with a metallic timbre and a resonance that were absent from Robinson's voice.

"Not as long as we're cloaked, Vee-Bat. I can't take the chance that the Sovereign might intercept any of our transmissions."

"Then move me out of the Sovereign's range, to where we can send a clear transmission without being intercepted."

"As soon as I know where the Sovereign is going--not a second sooner, is that clear?"

* * * * *

"I'm going after him," said the stranger.

"You have not been fully debriefed on your new orders yet," protested Telsek. "Though you do not yet have a need to know exactly what those orders involve, they do call for you to maintain secrecy about what has happened to you."

"That's exactly why I MUST go after Commander Robinson!" was the response. "He may not know all the details of what has happened to me, but only I can prevent him from revealing too much too soon to the wrong people!"

"Very well, then," was the reluctant assent. "I will be contacting the Office of Star Fleet Intelligence and requesting that its Chief of Intelligence attempt to intercept Robinson before he can reach his most likely destination."

* * * * *

"What do Captain Telsek and/or Admiral Siandierra think they're doing trying to keep me silenced about what I suspect really happened to FrioDraca?" Robinson was grumbling from where he now sat. He was in the pilot's cockpit of his mechum, the Veritech Battloid, whose artificial intelligence he called "Vee-Bat."

"I have no data from which to extrapolate any possible responses, Christopher," said Vee-Bat. "However, I have learned that Vice Admiral Siandierra Anjulee Beautelier and Captain Telsek K'Mar usually do tend to have logical reasons for whatever orders they may give."

"Even if those reasons are based on secret orders which I don't have a need to know?"

"Especially under those particular circumstances. You need to face certain hard cruel facts about yourself, Christopher. Yours is not an ideal permanent service record. You are impetuous, given to taking action before you know all the details, and, as you confessed to now-expropriated former Andorian Viceroy and now-cashiered former Star Fleet Lieutenant Thulon on one mission, you are most certainly no diplomat. You make enemies easily."

* * * * *

Boarding the Red Dragon Six, the stranger obtained requisite clearance to launch and was out of Shuttle Bay One within minutes. As the shuttlecraft followed the Veritech Battloid's projected course, it crashed a natural space-warp that had suddenly emerged.

* * * * *

The Veritech Battloid came out of warp to find itself on an intercept course with a small starship, maybe sixty-five meters in length, that looked very much like a scaled-down version of the Sovereign. Its markings read thus:

FREE ENTERPRISE.
NCC-70171.
STARSHIP U.S.S. FREE ENTERPRISE--
UNITED FEDERATION OF PLANETS.

Robinson knew that this was a flag officer's gig, one of an untold number that many Star Fleet admirals who had once commanded Class One capital starships were all authorized to command, of which the Free Enterprise was only the class prototype. Flag officers's gigs, unlike other Class One capital starships, had no fixed arrangement that determined their Naval Construction Contract numbers or their names, and the flag officers who were authorized to command them sometimes employed them as free-space offices when not at any one of Star Fleet's various headquarters locations throughout the United Federation of Planets, in particular its Presidio HeadQuarters in San Francisco on Earth.

If Robinson was right, then he knew at least something of the very flag officer who was authorized to command this particular gig.

* * * * *

Screened from Robinson's on-board sensors and scanners by means of maintaining its proximity to the Free Enterprise was the Red Dragon Six. Its pilot was counting on the Free Enterprise to serve essentially as a great rock in space behind which it could hide.

That pilot was now no longer aboard.

* * * * *

As he was making his approach to come alongside the Free Enterprise, Robinson suddenly lost consciousness.

* * * * *

He awoke to find himself bound under neck-to-foot force-field restraints and with his orientations to person, place, and time all severely compromised.

There was very little light.

And both his eye-glasses and eye shields were off.

"Christopher Thomas Robinson," declared a most familiar male voice whose origins he could not quite place, "do not attempt to speak. It will serve no purpose, since I know why you are here."

Strangely, the speaker seemed to be behind him.

"You were at risk of compromising an intelligence operation that still has to be maintained under Class A-Double Prime security. That I cannot permit."

Did the voice sound like a Vulcanoid version of his own?

"You are now undoubtedly wondering who I am and what I do, as if it will help you figure out what the meaning of all this is. Since you need to know, I will tell you that much."

Then the lights came up in level, and the speaker came around to stand in front of him.

"I am Admiral Healer Dr. Christopher Thomas Sorok Robinson S'Chn Hgrtcha, Ph.D., M.D., C.V.H., Ll.M., Ed.D., M.S., M.A., Chief of Intelligence of the Office of Star Fleet Intelligence. And I am, like you, a veteran of service aboard at least one of the six distinct Class One capital starships that have been named Enterprise. Indeed, I actually commanded the fourth starship to bear that name."

The speaker, who had just identified himself as the Chief of Robinson's Section for the entire Star Fleet, resembled a Vulcanoid version of Robinson himself. But his eyes both apparently functioned, and they were not shielded. Moreover, their color differed from that of Robinson's in yet another respect.

They were dark blue.

In addition, they had a vague burning quality that Robinson knew was absent from his own eyes.

"I am formally addressed as Admiral Robinson Sorok or simply Robinson Sorok," the flag officer, for so he had just identified himself, added. "My closest friends, and she who is my wife, call me Christopher Sorok. My fellow Vulcans call me Healer Sorok, since I am certified as a Vulcan healer. I usually shorten my name to Christopher Sorok Robinson for official purposes."

Finding his voice, Robinson asked slowly, "Are there...any Vulcanoids in Star Fleet...who are or may be...related to you?"

"There is one," the admiral responded. "He and I are distant cousins. From your own knowledge of Enterprise history, you may know him. His name is Spock, and he is the son of the late diplomat Sarek by the late anthropologist, sociologist, and psychologist Dr. Amanda Stemple-Grayson."

ABOARD THE U.S.S. SOVEREIGN:

SIANDIERRA ANJULEE BEAUTELIER WAS SITTING IN HER COMMAND CHAIR, WONDERING WHY SHE HAD ALLOWED TELSEK K'MAR TO UNDERTAKE SUCH A FOOLHARDY MISSION. After all, over the time Christopher Thomas Robinson had been a member of her crew, she had come to trust his judgment, even if she could not always condone his conduct.

But he had up and fled into deep outer space, planning to file a formal protest with the Federation Intelligence Agency of his having been certified psychologically unfit for duty. His personal mechum, the Voltronic Battloid, was also missing.

All Of One noticed his Commanding Officer's distress. "Captain, I think I know where Commander Robinson will go."

"And just wherre would that be, Numberr One?"

"At last report, there was an admiral's gig, the Free Enterprise, some seven parsecs distant."

"Who is in command of it?"

"The admiral in charge of Star Fleet Intelligence, Christopher Sorok Robinson."

Siandierra's eyes widened in alarm. "What does the admirral know about what has Commanderr RRobinson so distrressed?"

"Nothing yet. At least I have no indications that he may know anything."

"Flight Con, lay in direct courrse to rrendezvous with the Frree Enterrprrise--ahead warrp eight," Siandierra snapped.

"Course laid in--should I engage?" Joseph Horton asked.

"Make it so."

Horton tapped a touchpad.

"If you will excuse me, Captain, I have to report to SickBay for my regular fresh blood infusion," he then said, rising from his chair. "The Exec can take over for me till I'm finished."

Siandierra nodded.

* * * * *

In the SickBay, Dr. Gulana was infusing Horton with fresh blood. "One of these days, Chris is gonna get us all in trouble with that jump-the-gun attitude of his," she was saying.

"I know what you mean, Doctor," Horton admitted with reluctance. "I've got a feeling his judgment isn't always perfect."

"Well, is anyone's judgment ever perfect?" Gulana was annoyed that Horton was not seeing what, to her, was perfectly obvious. "Chances are Counselor Estrazhi's diagnosis tells only half the story."

* * * * *

The Sovereign could have covered the seven parsecs, or twenty-two point eight two light-years, to the Free Enterprise's last known position in just short of nine days at a time-warp of factor eight. It thus had a major advantage over the Voltronic Battloid, which was, though its maximum speed was a time-warp of just over factor six, not capable of reaching the Free Enterprise's last known position in fewer than twenty-one days. It was also carrying less fuel on board, which reduced its range even more.

Siandierra would not have known that the Free Enterprise had entered a star system located less than four days distant from the Sovereign's position at warp seven if it had not been for a subspace message that the larger ship received.

"Robinson Sorok to Siandierra--what is your Intelligence Officer doing so far from your ship?" was how the message began.

Suddenly snapping to attention, Siandierra stammered, "Well, uh--that is, I--uh, well--"

"At ease, Vice Admiral," Robinson Sorok said blandly. "I am not taking disciplinary action against you or him. I simply want to know why he has done what he has done."

"Commanderr RRobinson seems to believe that my forrmerr Chief Securrity And Tactical Officerr, whom he knows is dead, is still alive. My Counselorr, Commander Kesla T'Lija Estrrazhi, cerrtified him psychologically unfit forr duty, and he plans to file a prrotest with the Federration Intelligence Agency."

A cold impersonal expression suddenly came into Robinson Sorok's dark blue eyes as he heard Siandierra's statement. "Leave the matter entirely up to me. That is an order."

"Sirr!"

"Siandierra, I am the flag officer in charge of Commander Robinson's section. This situation is one I can control with ease. There will be NO argument on the matter--IS THAT CLEAR???"

"Aye, sirr," the Caitian murmured unhappily.

"I have noticed that one of your shuttlecraft, the Red Dragon Six, is not more than ten klicks from my gig's current position. If Telsek K'Mar does not stand down, he faces severe penalties. I plan to tell him as much in person myself."

"If you want to blame someone, blame me!" Siandierra protested. "I was the one who apprroved Telsek's mission--I was the one who failed to stop Commanderr RRobinson--"

"That will be quite enough." There was an end-of-discussion finality in Robinson Sorok's voice. "Are you on course to my gig's last recorded position?"

"Yes, we arre."

"Change course to coordinates that I will feed directly into your M-10 LCARS."

ABOARD THE U.S.S. FREE ENTERPRISE:

"CHANGE COURSE TO COORDINATES THAT I WILL FEED DIRECTLY INTO YOUR M-10 LCARS." As he was speaking, Admiral Christopher Sorok Robinson was tapping a series of touchpads in front of him. Finally he tapped a physical button next to the touchpads.

"Coorrdinates rreceived."

"Another point of procedure--I have Commander Robinson aboard my gig now. With us is a hand of both of your acquaintances. You will be under strict instructions to inform no other hands in your crew about any events that will follow the rendezvous. The only ones with any need to know outside of you, Telsek, and Commander Robinson himself are Brigadier General Joseph Dorffner of Special Operations, Commander Robinson's FIA control 'Chip,' and the Supreme-Secretariat President."

Siandierra hissed in terror. "This is biggerr than I thought it was!" she gasped.

"By the time all this is over, you will understand that all these arrangements are of capital import, and that Commander Robinson can be trusted not to betray Star Fleet secrets once he learns of the reason they are being kept secret."

"I'll give orrderrs that no one is to boarrd yourr gig without my perrmission."

"Consider those orders belayed in Telsek's case. He has MY permission to board my gig, effective as of now. Robinson Sorok out."

The screen blanked.

Robinson looked up at the flag officer. "Can you free me?"

"Done."

The electrical tingling suddenly winked out. Rising from the bio-bed where he had been kept under restraint, Robinson rolled his legs off it and sat up.

Looking around himself, the Twenty-Third Century survivor found himself in what looked to him like a kind of sickbay. That made a measure of sense, since the admiral was a physician and a healer as well as an attorney, amongst his other credentials. On a couch nearby, Robinson Sorok was reading a personal displayer, and a closed box was positioned next to him. Next to the couch was a small table, where Robinson's eye-glasses and eye-shields were rested. "I had been waiting for the ship aboard which you serve to make its own way into communications range," Robinson Sorok went on. "Since it did not, I decided to move my gig closer to its last known position."

Resuming both his eye-glasses and his eye-shields, Robinson said, "It seems to me, sir, that I'm always last with the NEED to know. I'm already convinced that I'm not in my Commanding Officer's total confidence. And you're apparently the admiral in charge of the section in which I'm posted."

"Your loyalty is commendable, Commander. However, since you are apparently much less mature than most humans who have been through your experiences usually are, your conduct as an officer still leaves much to be desired."

Robinson was not pleased at what he had just heard. "You have to remember that when my eye was injured, I was not much more than a boy. You had just emerged from the Karidian Fine Arts Academy with your M.A. in theater arts, and were serving on a starship with which you wanted less to do than your Commanding Officer, Robert April himself, believed you should--because it was not the Enterprise."

"Still, I know that you had been involuntarily relieved as being psychologically unfit for duty, and that you plan to file a formal protest with the company. That is a protest your Officer-In-Charge, Telsek K'Mar, cannot allow you to file."

"Admiral, I have reason to believe that Telsek's predecessor may still be alive. The manner of my relief of duty was completely improper."

"I find myself forced to agree with you. But in order to be able to confirm your fitness for duty, I will have to order you to keep a Class A-Double Prime security company secret. The life of one of your old friends depends on that secret." Then footsteps, as from the regulation boots of a Star Fleet uniform, could be heard behind both of them. Robinson saw a stranger standing near the admiral, the identity of whom was concealed beneath a hood. "I have another passenger aside from you, who would rather not be seeing you. But I have given him no choice BUT to see me."

The stranger had been making use of an oversized loose-fitting black hood to conceal himself. He now pulled his hood back to reveal a face that Robinson had never believed he would see alive again.

It was FrioDraca--and he was very much alive.

Robinson Sorok's manner was as apologetic as that of any Vulcan could be. "I really had no choice but to beam him aboard. He crashed a natural space-warp and arrived immediately before you did."

"Before you explain to him what this is all about," the Andorian nobleman growled in rage that he was controlling poorly, "I want to know one thing from you, Commander. Just one thing."

In that shocking second, the persistent nightmare that had been disrupting Robinson's sleep time became a horrifying reality as FrioDraca's blue-skinned hands abruptly closed around his throat, and he knew that with Andorian mega-strength, Frio could easily crush the out-of-his-time human's neck if he so chose.

"Why did you leave me for dead?" FrioDraca angrily shouted directly into Robinson's face, his antennae pointing directly at the human. "WHY???"

The repeated single word "Why" was just such a direct attack on Robinson himself from what he had long believed was beyond the grave as Thulon's had been, but now that he definitely knew that FrioDraca was very much alive, this was, if anything, an even worse reality than it had ever been as a nightmare!

"WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY??? WHY???"

"FRIO, FORGIVE ME!!!" came Robinson's own scream of answer. "I SHOULD HAVE DIED THERE INSTEAD OF YOU!!! THAT CORPSE SHOULD HAVE BEEN MINE, NOT YOURS!!!"

"The fact remains that you left me for dead!" FrioDraca was not pacified in the least. He did not remove his hands from around Robinson's neck. "If Telsek hadn't thought to have a clone grown of my original body before I was killed, then--"

"Then WHAT?" interrupted Robinson Sorok. "Would Commander Robinson have had a need to know, in that case, that you were still alive, even if no longer as before?" The Vulcanoid spy-master's blue eyes were burning. "The fal-tor-pan, or re-fusion, ritual was considered only legend before Sarek attempted it with his son, my cousin Spock. And it was only because Sarek's own sister T'Lar was an adept of the magnitude necessary for the success of the ritual that I still have a cousin Spock at this date."

"Admiral, I don't want to be lectured!" FrioDraca snapped. "I still ought to wring this human's neck for having left me for dead the way he did!"

Robinson Sorok walked over and pried FrioDraca's hands off Robinson's neck. "You are most fortunate that I do not bind you over for court-martial for striking another hand in this service." At the apparent lack of comprehension from both of the other two, the flag officer went on, "As it is, I will be placing you on administrative leave after the debriefing is finished and ordering you out of this star system within the hour after that. Do you copy?"

FrioDraca controlled his indignation with an effort. But that effort left him visibly depressed as, after seven seconds had elapsed, he murmured in defeat, "Yes."

"As for you, Christopher, FrioDraca has raised a valid question," Robinson Sorok then pointed out to the Twenty-Third Century survivor. "Exactly why did you leave him for dead on that planet, when there was no shortage of logical reasons for you to believe that he might actually survive the injury the Jem'Hadar had inflicted on him?"

"The Jem'Hadar had not given me a single one," Robinson explained. "He had said, and I quote him directly, 'He will take much time to die, but he WILL die!'" He shuddered at the memory. "Try as I may, even now I still can't get that horrible mocking laughter out of my mind." He saw FrioDraca's previously hostile stance soften to a degree. "And there was Dr. Michael Keemer's failure to save your life--at least that was how he saw it."

"Keemer had less knowledge of Andorian medicine than could have saved me. Sybil Sixteen and Gulana don't." FrioDraca was visibly calmer now, but still visibly angered. "The difference was that they weren't the ones treating me. Keemer was."

"But why go so far as to conceal your own vital status from me?"

"Your status as the Sovereign's Information Officer." This from Robinson Sorok. "We could not take the chance that you would not reveal the truth about this operation to anyone who did not have that all-important need to know."

"And if you don't mind my asking, Admiral, who do you mean by 'we?'"

"The company. The Star Fleet Intelligence Section. The Federation Intelligence Agency. The Star Fleet Marine Corps's Branch of Special Operations."

The out-of-his-time human nodded in comprehension. That explained many things.

"If too many people knew that I'm not dead, the consequences could be disastrous." FrioDraca had calmed down enough to be more rational, but still radiated a disapproving attitude. "And yet, I still have too much to do on behalf of the Federation and Star Fleet."

"FrioDraca can do nothing using his real name--but he will not be without an identity. I am seeing to that."

With this rarefied possibility confronting him, Robinson found he had nothing to say other than to ask, "What will he be calling himself, then? Or rather, what will YOU be calling him?"

A whine interspersed with partially musical tinkling hum commenced to sound at just that point, before the flag officer could respond. He said instead, "Before I answer that question, Commander, allow me to welcome yet a third arrival aboard my gig." He addressed FrioDraca. "That particular arrival is a Vulcan-Romulan security specialist of your acquaintance."

FrioDraca's eyes widened in horror. "Telsek?"

"Does that surprise you, Duke Commander?"

"It does worse--it reveals that he is at least as insubordinate as Robinson can be! Vice Admiral Siandierra had given orders that no one was to board this vessel without her permission!"

"He did not need it; he has mine. I belayed that Caitian's orders myself, before she gave them."

Robinson broke in. "Sir, my suspicions that Frio might still be alive motivated me to attempt to file a protest with the FIA," said he. "I was convinced that he would not have volunteered for duty that he knew would kill him. And I was not about to sit idly by and permit Counselor Commander Kesla T'Lija Estrazhi to relieve me of duty on psychological grounds when I knew that there was more to all this than just my own suspicions."

"Very well--I can tell you now," FrioDraca said to Robinson as the whine and the partially musical tinkling hum faded from the passenger compartment of the Free Enterprise's saucer section. "I am not the original FrioDraca. I am his clone."

"Of course." Understanding suddenly dawned on Robinson. "A common practice among Andorian Imperial nobility and aristocracy! They maintain cultures of gastro-epithelial tissue in a gene bank, in case of their own possible assassinations, and have their complete brain patterns recorded in data banks to allow the minds of their clones to be programmed accordingly!"

All eyes turned to Telsek K'Mar, who had boarded as they were speaking. The implications of what he had heard were staggering. But to his credit, Telsek did not react openly. "Did Thulon forfeit that privilege when he was convicted at court-martial?" was all the Vulcanoid had to ask.

"Yes, he did," FrioDraca said. "His cultures have been destroyed and his brain bank erased."

"One overdraft too many, huh?" Robinson said, grinning as he came to terms with what had really happened.

"Yes," FrioDraca confirmed. "As for me, I will be assuming an entirely new identity, under the code name of Magnus Draco."

"'Great Dragon,'" Robinson said. "So that's what you've been doing all this time you allowed me to think FrioDraca was dead--creating a whole new cover identity for him." The out-of-his-time human was now visibly annoyed that he had not realized it earlier. "Public figures who are targets of assassins stage their own deaths with a greater frequency than the general public has a need to know; why in the name of Robert April should I have believed FrioDraca was any different?"

"You see why Telsek could not let you file that protest of your involuntary relief," FrioDraca said. As he spoke, he pulled off his hooded tunic to reveal a traditional Andorian Imperial uniform.

"Now I do," the out-of-his-time human admitted bitterly. "That way, if I had tried to reveal the truth about what had happened to you, then the FIA could have publicly disowned it as the tall tale of a spy who went nuts under the pressures of his duties."

"You can also see the reason the company wanted you to believe FrioDraca was still dead."

"Now I do, yes, Admiral. There's only one loose end to tie up: the possibility that I may face criminal charges for what I've done."

"There will be no charges."

"Why not?"

"I intend to vouch for you personally to Vice Admiral Siandierra and General Dorffner and see to it that all charges will be dropped."

The human's eyes widened behind his dark eye-shields.

"That is correct. You will not be prosecuted. After all, you were acting according to the guidance of your judgment."

"But sir, for once that judgment failed me! It led me to jeopardize my career over whether one of the officers aboard the Sovereign, one of my few friends, was alive or dead!"

"When I was in your position," Robinson Sorok explained to Robinson, "and rest assured I have been in your position, I did exactly the same as you did at such times, and for the same reasons."

"But you were penalized for that!"

"Not always. There were superior personnel who knew that I meant well."

"Be that as it may, there is one item FrioDraca's original incarnation gave me that I still retain. If I can retrieve it, then perhaps we can finalize this whole thing."

The flag officer pointed to the box. "I am galaxy-group diameters ahead of you, Commander. Open the box."

Robinson did. And gasped in horror at what he beheld.

FrioDraca saw the contents of the box Robinson dumped onto the table and was equally horrified. "The statue of Mr. Gorg that I sculpted in red silicate glass!"

"That is exactly what it is," Robinson Sorok admitted. "As you can see, it is now broken." Gorg, who had been a lieutenant in Star Fleet at the time FrioDraca had sculpted the statue, was Berengarian. One of the finest products of research that the Mendel Institute of the Star Fleet Medical Research Center had conducted specifically to grant intelligence to the flying dragonlike reptiloid archosaurs who dominated Berengaria VII, he was also Christopher Thomas Robinson's immediate deputy and the unofficial mascot of the Sovereign. FrioDraca had sculpted a likeness of him in red silicate glass, but that statue now rested in two pieces on the table.

"Gorg broke off the head and neck of his own statue when he learned what had happened to you at Jem'Hadar hands," Robinson explained.

"FrioDraca, will you remove your old engagement ring?" This from the admiral.

"Sir, I don't see why--"

"That is an order, Commander."

"Aye, sir," the Andorian said unhappily, dropping the ring on the table.

"Robinson, your phaser?"

"You realize, of course, that you owe us all an explanation." But as he spoke, he handed over his phaser as ordered.

"Stand the statue upright again." FrioDraca complied with the flag officer's instruction. "Now, Mr. Telsek, front and forward." The Tal Shiar official's son did so. "Mr. Robinson, will you position the ring on the statue so that its jewel is facing front?" Robinson did.

Suddenly, Robinson Sorok leveled the phaser at the statue and fired.

"He's gonna destroy the statue!" Robinson blurted in near-panic.

"Maintain your silence, Robinson," Telsek said with disinterest. "He has adjusted the phaser beam strength and diameter so that it will only heat the fracture joint at the neck."

And sure enough, the break site became white hot under the phaser energy.

"What are you saying--he plans to weld the silicate glass of the statue back together?"

"Exactly," Robinson Sorok confirmed. "The ring will become a pendant bearing a medal FrioDraca will receive."

"I always wondered just why my former fiancee chose such an odd shape for the stone of the ring proper," FrioDraca confessed.

"Now pick up the head and neck of the statue and reposition it on the body. Be sure that it fits into the inner diameter of the ring." The flag officer lowered the phaser and gave it back to Robinson.

FrioDraca complied with the order. Much to his disbelief, the statue resealed itself under the heat that the phaser energy had imparted to it!

"Once the weld cools, I'll treasure the statue till the end of my own days," Robinson said. "For only the four of us know exactly what it really means." He turned to FrioDraca and bowed deeply in respect. "The dragon is dead--" he straightened his posture and saluted his former Officer-In-Charge smartly-- "LONG LIVE THE DRAGON!!!"

"That is a statement you would do well to remember," said Telsek as Robinson snapped down his right hand. "I will be accepting reassignment to Star Base 217 in a matter of weeks, and yet he can still wield enough power to deny you certain advantages."

"I will be assigning Captain ShadowRunner of Ahroun to take over for you as Chief Security Officer once your reassignment is finalized," Robinson Sorok said. Then he turned and addressed Robinson directly. "As for you, human, Star Fleet's tolerance of your impetuous nature can only go so far. It has guaranteed you a place in our society, but even the Twenty-Fourth Century has its limits. Now you and Telsek get back to your ship. And again, not a word of what has happened here can ever be spoken till you receive contrary notice."

The two officers were transported aboard their own small craft, leaving Admiral Robinson Sorok and FrioDraca aboard the Free Enterprise.

Aboard the Voltronic Battloid, Vee-Bat said, "Chris, I heard and saw everything. Not to worry about a thing, though--I won't tell a soul."

"See that you don't, or I have you scuttled."

The Red Dragon Six and the Voltronic Battloid followed return courses back to the Sovereign.