Star Trek: Mariner
Episode 003:
Earth Station
by Bodie A. Ashton
(uss_mariner_01@enterprise.startrek.org)

Episode 003: Earth Station

PROLOGUE

Starfleet Communications Headquarters
San Francisco, Earth

"Captain Anthony?"

Simon Anthony was stirred from his boredom-induced coma by a pretty young girl, no older than nineteen, wearing the uniform of a Starfleet Communications administrative member. She was smiling through a frame of flowing, blonde hair. Anthony shook his head, attempting to disperse the cobwebs of fatigue which had crept upon him.

"One and the same", he managed to reply.

"I'm Yeoman Darmal", she said, holding out her hand, which Anthony shook. "I'm Admiral Paris' personal secretary."

The captain smiled. He had heard from reliable sources, from the admiral's son, no less, that Owen Paris worked his staff to the bone. He hoped, for the sake of this fetching, youthful secretary, that he was more tolerant nowadays.

"Pleased to meet you", he said with at least some degree of truth. At the suggestive nod of Darmal's head, he arose from his semi-comfortable chair, and followed her down a corridor. As they walked, the yeoman continued to chat.

"I understand you're the commanding officer of the USS Mariner", she ventured. When Anthony did not contradict her, she continued. "Mariner is not under Admiral Paris' jurisdiction. May I ask why you wish to meet with him, sir?"

Anthony pulled a PADD handheld computer from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to Darmal. She read the title and suddenly pulled to a halt. Anthony could have sworn that the colour in her face had drained away. Finally, she returned the PADD.

"You understand that Admiral Paris has not always seen eye-to-eye with his son?"

"I do indeed", Anthony acknowledged. "I also understand that Tom Paris has been missing in action for over six years. Despite all their differences, I would have thought that the admiral would be pleased to hear from Tom, after all this time."

Darmal nodded unconvincingly, and continued her previous stride down the hallway.

* * * Darmal deposited Anthony in a sparsely decorated office. He paced to the large bay windows, and looked out on to the Golden Gate Bridge. In the clear blue sky, several Starfleet shuttles flashed past.

"A lovely view, isn't it?"

The gruff voice erupting behind him was unexpected, and it made Anthony spin around in a semi- combat stance. His gaze locked with the lifeless grey eyes of Admiral Owen Paris. In an instant, Anthony was standing to attention.

"Admiral, sir", he greeted. He habitually took a mental note of the admiral; his mannerisms, his speech patterns, his posture. Almost immediately, he came to the conclusion that Tom had already dispensed to him. Admiral Paris was a pompous ass.

"I understand that Mariner's in for repairs again", the portly, gnarled flag officer began, emphasising 'again'. "You should take better care of your ship, Captain."

Anthony chose to ignore this final comment.

"Sir, I don't know whether you know the circumstances surrounding our last engagement…"

"I do not", Paris interrupted harshly. "Geoff Courtenay has not seen fit to tell me." Again, there was a tone of gruff resentment. To Anthony's sharply-honed observation skills, he was simply an angry old man. Unperturbed, the Starfleet captain continued his story.

"Well, sir", Anthony recounted, unconsciously putting a coarse tone on 'sir', "thanks to a micro- wormhole I had the distinction of being the first Starfleet officer to set foot on board USS Voyager since she left DS9 seven years ago,."

This grabbed Paris' attention.

"You were on Voyager?"

Anthony nodded, and removed the PADD from his jacket pocket.

"This is a letter, addressed to you from your son."

Paris hesitated. Then, slowly, he reached for the handheld device. He placed it slowly upon his desk. Anthony noticed for the first time that there was a photograph of the admiral's son, standing at the front of the desk. Owen Paris picked up the picture and stared for a few moments. Then, he replaced it back on the table and spoke.

"You were friends with Thomas before…he got into trouble, weren't you?"

It wasn't so much a question as a statement, but Anthony replied in the affirmative. He noted with surprise that his superior referred to his son as 'Thomas'; as far as he knew, everyone had always called him Tom. Paris continued.

"Tell me, Captain. How is my son?"

Anthony smiled with genuine warmth.

"Very well, Admiral. He is soon to be a father…"

This final statement was met with a glare of anger and alarm. Anthony wasn't sure why, but then he twigged.

"Oh, you misunderstand, sir. Tom is married, and his wife is expecting."

He knew that Tom and his father hadn't been on speaking terms for quite some time. Nonetheless, Anthony was perplexed that the admiral did not realise that his son was happily married. Surely, Tom had mentioned it in the audio-visual transmissions via Pathfinder…

Abruptly, and before Anthony knew it, the meeting was over. Admiral Paris, without any warning, stormed out of his office, replaced by the infinitely nicer figure of Yeoman Darmal.

"I'm sorry, Captain", she said, "but the admiral is a busy man."

Anthony took this as a not-so-subtle way of showing him the door. Angered by the snubbing, not only of himself but also of a good friend, he pushed past the administrative assistant and hastened away from the frugal and oppressive workplace of Admiral Owen Paris.

CHAPTER ONE

The fresh-faced ensign, resplendent in an aqua tunic and the Starfleet-issue black and grey waistcoat, stood in the doorway of Main Engineering. What he saw was akin to chaotic. It seemed that the majority of the floor space was taken up with disembowelled systems, and engineers seemed to be hanging from the girders, replacing damaged computers, bio-neural gel packs, and anything else that was routed through Engineering. Cautiously creeping his way through the remains of a secondary bypass computer, he spied a tall blond man, wearing the red tunic indicative of a command officer. The ensign could not see the pips on the neck, but he took a guess. He drew up alongside the human officer.

"Captain Anthony?", he ventured. The man turned, and the ensign saw with despair that there were only three gold pips. A commander.

"I'm afraid not", the commander replied. "May I take a message?"

Ramelow immediately realised that the newcomer seemed all at sea by the response, so he explained.

"That's my way of asking 'what do you want', Ensign."

The blue-shirted junior officer suddenly comprehended.

"Oh!", he exclaimed unintentionally. "I'm sorry sir. I'm Ensign Tolian Brenkar, reporting for duty as ordered."

Ramelow gave a grin, revealing a row of perfect, pearly white teeth.

"Ah, our new science officer. I'm Jakob Ramelow, the First Officer."

"Pleased to meet you, sir", Brenkar replied, appearing slightly uncomfortable. Ramelow attempted to lighten the mood further.

"I didn't realise you were El Aurian", he said, referring to the name 'Tolian'. Brenkar nodded.

"Yes, sir, but I'm not old enough to have ever seen our homeworld."

Brenkar spoke through clenched teeth as he said this, and Ramelow instantly regretted mentioning El Auria. Over eighty years earlier, El Auria was destroyed by the Borg and, to date, most of the survivors and their offspring still felt strongly about the lost planet.

Ramelow shook his hand in the air, as if to dispel the conversation.

"Well, Mr. Brenkar, if you would like to find your quarters, I'll be glad to give you a shipwide tour a little later. Right now, I'm fairly busy."

He surveyed the room with a wave from his hand. Brenkar nodded.

"Of course, sir. Thank you, sir", he stammered, hurriedly extracting himself from the situation. On the way out, he tripped over the secondary bypass computer.

Ramelow bit his tongue.

Great, he thought to himself. The kid's only been on the ship for ten seconds, and already I've scared him to death and upset him.

His thoughts were then diverted by Toby Garrick.

* * *

When Brenkar exited the turbolift on Deck Three, he brushed past a man wearing the soiled bib overalls which seemed to be standard uniform for the repair teams of Earth Station McKinlay. The bearded repairman did not speak to the El Aurian science officer. He merely entered the lift, and in a rasp told the computer which deck he wished to travel to.

* * *

Chief Maintenance Officer N'Lokan fiddled with the control panel inside Escape Pod Seven. To N'Lokan, who had devoted his life to maintaining Starfleet vessels, a job like this didn't come around often. The chance to lead the repair team on board the newest Sovereign-class ship was an offer too good to refuse. He almost changed his mind when he set foot off the shuttle which had brought him to the battleship. On the spot, he had filled in his repair diary: The ship looks like a herd of Antarean black elk went on a rampage through her. Despite this, he had set his experienced crew to work immediately, while he first cleared the administrative red tape, then realigned the primary artificial gravity bus, which alone had taken him two weeks to accomplish successfully. Finally, he gave himself the unenviable task of safety-checking the escape pods on Deck Twenty-Six.

Once he pulled the console apart, he immediately spotted the three short-circuited isolinear chips. Muttering to himself, he dived into his toolbox for replacements, so he didn't notice when the overall- clad figure of a man appeared outside the entrance of the pod. He did, however, notice when the door of the pod raised to the closed position with a hiss. Turning, the Andorian found himself shut inside.

* * *

The man in the overalls keyed in a locking sequence for the pod door. Then, he removed a laser scalpel from his chest pocket. He activated the medical instrument, and began to make a tiny incision in the metallic skin of the hatch. It took several minutes, before he finally deactivated the scalpel, closed the hatch between the corridor of the starship and the door of the pod, and prised open the manual override.

* * *

Ramelow was consulting yet another progress report from one of the repairmen, when he heard an urgent cry from Garrick.

"Commander", the ageing second engineer called, "one of the escape pods is being launched!"

In an instant, Ramelow had scampered to the console to which Garrick was pointing. Sure enough, it was reading an unauthorised release of a pod from Deck Twenty-Six.

"Override it", he ordered calmly. Garrick shook his head.

"I've already tried. It's being launched manually from the pod controls on that deck."

Ramelow clicked his commbadge.

"Ramelow to N'Lokan", he hailed, remembering who was working in that section. He was replied only by the flat tone of the communicator, which told him that his signal was, for one reason or another, not being received by the chief of maintenance at McKinlay. He was about to try again, when Garrick grabbed his arm.

"Sir, the pod is away, and pulling clear of Mariner and the station", he said in a dejected tone. Then he spoke more excitedly, as the panel beeped.

"Commander, I'm reading explosive decompression from the pod."

He paused.

"I am also reading one biosign. It's Andorian."

For a moment, he inhaled sharply.

"He's dead, sir."

* * *

First Officer's Log, Stardate 54972.6
We have now been in dock at McKinlay Station for several weeks. I would like to say that the repairs are going well, but that is not the case.
Through some freak accident, the chief of the engineering crew from McKinlay was killed today, when an escape pod he was investigating launched and decompressed. The pod has been tractor- beamed to the station, but I am determined to conduct an investigation myself. Lieutenant- Commander Tasek would be ideal under these circumstances, but I understand that he is studying meditation techniques at the Vulcan consulate. On top of that, I do not want the captain to be bothered. God knows, he needs the shore-leave.

* * *

The Mariner observation lounge was almost empty. Of Mariner's usual complement, only four senior staff remained aboard for the repair work. Ramelow and Garrick sat side-by-side at the head of the conference table, and next to them sat Doctor Taryll Kalis and Ensign Tolian Brenkar.

"Right, gentlemen", Ramelow began the meeting. "On our watch, a man died. I don't care what that idiot commander of McKinlay says; this is our investigation."

Garrick couldn't help but smile at the mention of McKinlay Station's commander, Kalak Morkal. The Bolian was known to Garrick to be the most insufferable, ignorant little man in Starfleet. He had gained infamy in the aftermath of the first Borg incursion into Sector 001; when the Enterprise docked for well-needed maintenance, Morkal had made an unfortunate comment about the flagship being "better late than never" in her interception of the Cube. Equally infamous, but far more appreciated within the ranks of Starfleet, was Lieutenant Worf's response, which left Morkal in McKinlay's sickbay with a broken nose.

"I have requested to Mr Morkal that the escape pod be turned over to us for analysis", Brenkar ventured nervously, tugging Garrick back out of his amusing reverie. He made a half-smile.

"Need I ask the result?", he asked.

Brenkar shook his head.

"He said that, since we had killed his Chief Engineer, he wasn't entrusting us with anything."

Ramelow slammed his fists down on the table.

"Not good enough!"

Brenkar jumped out of his chair in fright. Ramelow continued, disregarding the fact that the science officer's PADD had been flung against the observation window as a result of his impromptu gymnastics.

"We have to find a way to get that pod back, so we can study it in depth. I doubt our friend Kalak has any idea about forensics."

Garrick spoke up. "If the docking clamps on Number Five Outer Pylon were disengaged for a few seconds, I think I could divert just enough power to tractor the pod to our Main Shuttlebay."

Ramelow nodded with a broad smile.

"Sounds like you're planning a little sabotage, Ensign." He took a sip of the iced tea in front of him.

Garrick shook his head.

"Of course not, sir. I was merely commenting that if someone accidentally cut the power to Five Outer, our pod would be loose, and I believe that, under those circumstances, we would be obligated to keep it from floating away."

Ramelow finished his tea.

"Could we also power one transporter pad, to beam the accident-prone individual to Mariner?"

Garrick thought for a moment.

"I think so."

Ramelow stood.

"I think it's time I visited Five Outer."

CHAPTER TWO

Dawn came to the Bavarian Schwarzwald, revealing a steaming pot of coffee standing on a verandah table. Sitting in the wooden chair behind the table, cutting into a large blueberry pancake, sat Simon Anthony. He was just savouring the last morsel of the pancake when he noticed a portly, sparsely- haired, uniformed man, standing at the wooden steps leading up to the oak decking. He hurriedly swallowed his final mouthful and rushed to the head of the steps.

"Admiral Paris", he said with poorly-veiled surprise. Paris had his hands behind his back, and was looking at the ground in an uncomfortable manner.

"Captain Anthony", he began, with a contemplative tone. "I believe I owe you an apology for my behaviour a few weeks ago."

Anthony did nothing to contradict his superior.

"I haven't seen my son for seven years", the admiral continued unperturbed. "When you told me that you had seen him again…"

Something clicked in Anthony's mind.

"You're last memory of him was as a convict in the New Zealand penal centre", he ventured. Owen Paris nodded.

"It was as if he had never gone away, and was still the wild, irresponsible rogue who had been imprisoned", he admitted. "When you said that he was soon to become a parent, I jumped to the worst conclusion."

Anthony smiled.

"Sir, you're son is one of the most responsible and trustworthy men I have ever known, even before he went to prison. You remember him as an outlandish, negligent brigand who broke the rules too many times. But when I met him again, after so many years, I saw the real Thomas Eugene Paris. I saw a loving husband and soon-to-be father. I saw an esteemed helmsman of the starship Voyager, respected by his captain, his fellow officers and his crew. I saw a man who would not hesitate to sacrifice himself if it meant the survival of his comrades.

"Believe me, sir, when I say that I saw the genuine Tom Paris."

Anthony suddenly realised that he had spoken far more forcefully than he had meant to, and for an instant, he worried that he had lectured himself towards a reprimand. Admiral Paris, however, mirrored the grin still evident on the captain's face.

"I believe you, Captain", he said. "I also believe that I had no right to shun you when we met. To do what I did dishonoured not only you, the intrepid starship captain who brought me good tidings, but it also dishonoured Tom, whom you so nobly count as a friend."

Anthony noted that, for the first time, Owen Paris referred to his son by his more popular name. The admiral, however, was now staring towards the sky, his eyes trying to focus on one ship in the galaxy, so far away that Starfleet hadn't realised she was still intact for several years.

"The undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns…", he muttered.

"Hamlet. Act Three, Scene One", Anthony whispered in reply. Paris turned.

"I didn't realise you were a patron of Shakespeare, Captain."

"I wasn't to begin with, sir", Anthony replied. "I am an amateur historian, though. From his own memoirs, James T. Kirk recited how Chancellor Gorkon, as a guest aboard the Enterprise while on his way to the Federation-Klingon peace talks, labelled the future 'The Undiscovered Country', a line from a Shakespearian play. I then read Hamlet to learn of the context."

He grimaced ruefully.

"I only hope that Tom does not wish to portray the Prince of Denmark in real life."

* * *

At that moment in time, Jakob Ramelow would have given anything to be on Earth, reciting Elizabethan theatre with an admiral, though he had never read Hamlet and nor did he intend to. For the umpteenth time, he cursed his decision to usurp the authority of the investigation from Kalak Morkal.

Lying hidden behind several barrels, scarcely uttering a single breath, he waited for an opportunity to present itself. He dared not reveal himself; exterior to his hiding place, teams of engineers and investigators strode down the corridors and into this room, the Five Outer airlock. He checked the chronometer on the tricorder, and noticed with joy that the shift was finishing. In just a few moments, the pylon would be temporarily free of activity.

* * *

"Attention, all hands", the voice of Toby Garrick blared over the comm. throughout Mariner. "In a few moments, all main and secondary power will be momentarily shut off, to test the EPS junctions. Life support is being supplied via Earth Station McKinlay. Second Engineer out."

Garrick turned to Brenkar, who was by now slightly pale.

"I suggest, lad, that you get to Transporter Room One, to beam back Commander Ramelow", he said gently. Brenkar nodded ever so slightly, and extricated himself from Main Engineering with all the ease of a hunted Bajoran Ghemil Beast. Garrick made a half-grin, before turning his attention to the power shunt controls.

* * *

The last engineer vacated the Five Outer airlock precisely upon the end of his shift, and, the moment he was gone, Ramelow swiftly rose from his uncomfortable resting position and sealed the room. Next, he removed a panel from the side wall. Inside was a computer terminal. Working quickly, Ramelow extracted his tricorder and, blazing his fingers over several buttons, began uploading a program into the Five Outer computer. In the Twenty-First Century, he would have been known as a master hacker, but, as far as he was concerned, he was a Starfleet officer doing his duty. The tricorder beeped, indicating a successful integration of the 'worm' into the system. He keyed the computer.

"Computer", he said. "Recognise Morkal, Kalak, Commander of Earth Station McKinlay. Authorisation code one-two-three-alpha."

The code was a complete fake, but with the 'worm' interrupting its usual processes, the computer wouldn't have differentiated Morkal's real code and the whistling of Rule Britannia. The feminine voice of the computer replied promptly.

"Authorisation accepted", it said monotonously.

"Computer", Ramelow continued, "cut all power except life support to Number Five Outer Pylon, and simulate emergency lockdown procedure Sigma-two-two."

The machine beeped. Almost immediately, the lights failed, followed by a loud clanking as the magnetic docking mechanisms disengaged, freeing the escape pod from the moorings. At the same time, every door and hatch on the pylon was automatically closed and locked down. Ramelow clicked his commbadge.

"Ramelow to Mariner. The objective is complete, and anytime you want to pick me up will be gratefully welcomed."

He barely finished when a blue aura surrounded him. In an instant he was gone.

* * *

He rematerialised on the transporter pad of the USS Mariner less than a second later. He had only just become whole again when Garrick hailed over the comm.

"Sir, we have the pod in tow, and she's being led smoothly to our shuttlebay."

Ramelow grinned gleefully. Score one for Mariner, he thought.

CHAPTER THREE

Tolian Brenkar and Taryll Kalis looked up from the computer console as Ramelow and Garrick strode into the main science lab. Ramelow nodded to Brenkar.

"What have you got for me, Ensign?"

The El Aurian tapped a panel on the console. A holographic representation of the escape pod manifested itself in front of them.

"The death of Mr. N'Lokan was no accident, sir", he proclaimed nervously. "During my analysis of the escape pod, I discovered a small incision in the hatch. Via the science computer, I determined that the cut was caused by a Starfleet-issue laser scalpel, which bore into the tritanium alloy just enough to create a pocket in the metal, which allowed for the explosive decompression which killed N'Lokan."

Ramelow made to respond, but Taryll took his cue.

"Sir, when the emitter of a laser scalpel comes into contact with matter a few seconds before it is activated, some of the molecules from that matter is blasted on to the surface where the laser is directed. That is why surgeons take care not to touch the scalpel emitter just before surgery.

"From the area around the hole made by the laser, I was able to collect a very small amount of subcellular residue. By running a subcellular scan, I was able to determine what species the killer is from."

The holoprojection altered. Now it showed a DNA sequence.

"Commander, this DNA is very similar to human DNA, but it is not. The similarity is not because of some common ancestry, but rather the luck of evolution."

Ramelow nodded impatiently.

"Okay, Doctor. Can you spare me the medical jargon and get to the point?"

"As I was saying, sir", Taryll continued composedly, "the blood-work is similar, so similar, in fact, that anything short of a subcellular scan would conclude that the killer was indeed human. However, after digging through the Federation Medical Database, I found a match. The murderer is Erynian."

Ramelow puzzled for a moment.

"Doesn't mean anything to me, Doctor", he concluded finally.

"The database wasn't too revealing", Taryll admitted. "There was some reference to the Erynian Crisis of 2305, but the Historical Database was lost after the Ta'ga damaged part of the computer core."

"I determined that a dioplasmic pulse of a certain frequency should immobilise anyone with Erynian physiology for a brief period of time", Brenkar said, then hesitated. "But, since the DNA is similar to human DNA, the frequency variation would have to be calculated taking several variables into account. I doubt our computers could determine the figure exactly."

Ramelow slapped the console.

"Then we'll have to look for motive to find our perpetrator."

"Maybe the Historical Database on McKinlay can help", ventured Brenkar. Ramelow looked up angrily.

"I'll be damned if I crawl to that bloody Bolian for help!"

He paused, thinking for a moment.

"It seems to me that we need an historian…and I know just the person."

* * *

The shuttle touched down right outside Anthony's chalet a few moments before sunset. He had decided to retire early, but the commotion of the thrusters as the Type 12 shuttle landed close outside his window woke Anthony from what was the haze of half-sleep. He arose, making his way to the front door of the chalet. When he opened it, he was met by the smiling face of his second-in-command.

"Jakob", he greeted warmly. "Come in, come in."

"I'm afraid we haven't got time for that, sir", Ramelow said in a businesslike tone. Without mentioning any detail, he then told Anthony about the murder. Anthony wasted no time, and even before Ramelow had finished his description, Anthony had a hold-all packed, and was making his way to the shuttle.

* * *

The Type 12 shuttlecraft climbed out of Earth's atmosphere, and while Ramelow helmed, Anthony read a PADD given him by the commander. About halfway between the surface and Earth Station McKinlay, the shuttle sensors beeped. Mariner's commanding officer read off the display.

"A Starfleet ship has just dropped to impulse near Jupiter, and is heading this way at full impulse", he said with no trace of emotion. He waited for the computer to identify the ship. "NCC-64871. USS Adventure, an Akira-class cruiser." Ramelow swore.

"They've probably been sent for by Kalak Morkal."

Realising that he hadn't mentioned the incident in Five Outer to his captain, Ramelow proceeded to recount the episode. When he finished, Anthony nodded gravely.

"So you think that Morkal asked for a ship to return to Earth, as a strongarm tactic to make you turn over the pod?" Ramelow clicked his tongue.

"I wouldn't put it past him, sir", he said. "You realise, Commander", continued Anthony, "that, having told me about your theft of the pod from right under the nose of the commander of Earth Station, I am obligated to recommend to Starfleet Command that they take action towards you."

"I understand, sir", Ramelow muttered dejectedly. He had expected this, but it was still a disappointment to him. Anthony thought for a moment.

"How does the Christopher Pike Medal for Valour sound to you, Commander?", he announced with a broad smile. "After all, you stuck it royally up that little toad of a man. You deserve a reward of some kind."

Ramelow could not help but giggle.

CHAPTER FOUR

Admiral Geoffrey Courtenay sat in his office at Starfleet Command, San Francisco. He was dictating to a computer terminal a list of directives, when one of the communication panels beeped. He punched a button.

"What is it?", he demanded angrily. His secretary, in a room adjacent, answered.

"Sir, as per your orders, the USS Adventure has arrived in Sector 001, and a team of Starfleet Marines headed by Major Rojas has boarded Earth Station McKinlay."

Courtenay grunted.

"Contact Morkal and reiterate that I am one hundred percent behind him on this one, and he may use the Marines as he sees fit." He closed the channel.

The human girl shrugged. In the past few weeks, Courtenay had been more abrupt than usual, almost threatening. However, she mused on many occasions, when one is in Starfleet for as long as Courtenay had been, they would be bound to field some sort of misplaced animosity. She shrugged again, before contacting McKinlay Station.

* * *

The moment the shuttle landed in Shuttlebay One and the bay doors had closed, Anthony leapt out and rushed into the interior of his ship, hoping to get to the bridge quickly. As he boarded the turbolift, Ramelow squeezed through the door as well. With impressive brevity, he revealed that the murderer was Erynian, which caused a bulging-eyed stare from the captain. Ignoring it, Ramelow explained also Brenkar's idea of using a dioplasmic pulse.

"I think I know how we could get that to work", Anthony muttered, but said no more as the turbolift door swished open, revealing the bridge. Hurriedly he made his way to the comm. panel, and opened hailing frequencies.

"USS Adventure, this is Captain Simon Anthony of the Mariner", he announced, and was quickly acknowledged by the view of a young man in the garb of a commander.

"Greeting, Captain. I'm Jacob Rhodes, commanding the Adventure", he responded neutrally. Anthony continued.

"May I inquire, Captain Rhodes, why you are approaching Earth?"

There was a short pause, as Rhodes decided what to say. Finally, he came to a decision.

"We were in the area", he began, "when we were ordered to return to McKinlay Station by Admiral Courtenay. Something about your crew committing crimes against the Federation."

Courtenay, Anthony growled to himself. So Morkal had gone straight to the top with his complaint. Without missing a beat, Anthony replied.

"On the contrary, Mr. Rhodes. My crew recovered a piece of evidence in a murder inquiry. It had been taken to McKinlay, but we are far better equipped to deal with such mysteries, so we took it back."

Rhodes let that sink in. Then, to Anthony's surprise, the commanding officer of the Adventure laughed loudly.

"I'll bet Kalak Morkal didn't like that", he managed to say in between guffaws.

"That's why you're here", admitted Anthony.

Rhodes thought for a moment.

"Okay, Captain, here's the deal. I'm still coming to Earth, but it's purely for show. I will take no action against Mariner for the moment. I must stipulate, though, that if I am ordered to board by force, my hands are tied. I must comply."

Anthony nodded both his understanding and his thanks, and then the screen went blank as Rhodes signed off. He turned to Ramelow. "Recall all of the crew from shore leave. Make sure they don't have to go through official Starfleet channels to get here, though; contact them, and beam them aboard from here. Once they've embarked, post security teams on every deck."

"Aye, sir", Ramelow replied.

* * *

Brenkar, Taryll and Anthony met on Holodeck Two soon after. Brenkar, who had been nervous around Ramelow, was now on the verge of panic. Accordingly, Anthony began by praising his new science officer.

"I heard from Commander Ramelow about your dioplasmic pulse theory. It's very good", he said.

"Thank you, sir", Brenkar stammered, "but in practice it cannot work."

"I disagree", Anthony stated bluntly. He addressed the computer.

"Computer, is the Scientific Database intact?"

"Affirmative", it replied.

Anthony rubbed his hands together.

"Computer, access the mathematics subcategory of the Scientific Database, and locate all files regarding Coleman, Patrick, and Khoo, Edmund C. Both human."

The computer worked for less than two seconds, before beeping.

"Subjects found", it confirmed directly.

"Are there physical parameters for both subjects?"

"Affirmative."

"Computer", Anthony articulated almost joyously, "display holographic representations of both individuals, and include cognitive and personality subroutines, based on the database files."

There was a pause, before two human males materialised on the holodeck. One was Asian in appearance, wearing spectacles, while the other had cropped, orange-brown hair and seemed more Anglo-Saxon. Anthony turned to the doctor and the science officer.

"Gentlemen, meet Edmund Khoo and Patrick Coleman, the two greatest mathematicians in Earth's history. I understand that the pulse frequency will require an infinitesimally small difference from that which would render a human unconscious. These two men can calculate it exactly."

Brenkar was lost for words for several moments. Then, stuttering wildly, he spoke to the two holograms.

"Let's get started."

"Yes", affirmed Khoo decisively.

Smiling, Anthony made his leave, followed closely by Taryll.

"I don't understand, sir, how two computer-generated holographic representations of mathematicians can succeed where the computer itself will fail."

Anthony chuckled.

"Compare it to the EMH program, Doctor", he explained. "It is generated by the computer, yet the computer has no personality and the EMH does. Similarly, the computer cannot diagnose illness by itself, nor can it devise new surgery techniques. The EMH can."

The doctor nodded.

"I see, I see."

He changed the subject.

"So, what do we need to know about Erynians?"

Anthony smiled from one side of his face.

"All in good time, my dear Taryll. All in good time."

* * *

'Good time' arrived when Ramelow joined Anthony and Taryll in the ready room, ten minutes after the captain and the doctor had adjourned there.

"Most of our crew have been told to return to Mariner", Ramelow said. "Garrick's got main power back online, and we'll be beaming them aboard soon.

"However, sir, I did discover that a few of our staff, including Lieutenant Tanier and Counsellor Gregory, have been taken into custody by Starfleet Police, on the orders of Admiral Courtenay."

Anthony frowned. "That isn't good news. Lon is an excellent investigator. He would have been a great help." He quickly turned his mind back to the investigation.

"Once Ensign Brenkar has worked out what frequency a dioplasmic pulse will have to be, I suggest we invite Adventure's security team to board, and we simulate life support failure, so they allow McKinlay engineers aboard. Once they are aboard, we discharge the pulse, and if one of them is the perpetrator, he should collapse and lose consciousness."

Ramelow nodded.

"Fine idea, sir. As an historian, do you know why an Erynian would want to kill an Andorian? More to the point, who are the Erynians?"

"The Erynians", Anthony began, "were up until today believed to be extinct. They were a civilisation, which thrived on a planet in the Beta Quadrant, known as Hojeron II. When the Federation made First Contact in 2293, the Erynians declined the offer to join, though for about ten years the Federation bought rakenium ore from them in a lucrative trade agreement for both sides.

"Then, one day in 2304, it was all ruined, and the Erynians blamed the Federation for it. The USS Feridon, a Constellation-class ship on a routine survey mission to the nearby planet of Hojeron IV, suffered a warp core breach at maximum impulse. The captain, a man named Klethorpe, ordered the computer to shut down the engines just before the crew took to the escape pods. However, for some reason, the computer did not comply, and the Feridon cruised on until it approached Hojeron II, when the core finally exploded. The explosion sent energy into the atmosphere, and a rare compound in the air reacted with the debris. This caused a type of radioactive fallout to descend on the planet. It rendered every male Erynian sterile. All diplomatic and economic ties to the Federation were severed, and Starfleet was warned that any of her ships which wandered close to the Hojeron system would be intercepted and destroyed. It was a classic case of xenophobia by trauma, and it condemned the race to certain extinction."

"What was the Crisis of 2305, then?", asked Doctor Taryll.

"2305 saw the majority of Hojeron II's female population panic", replied Anthony. "They realised that the species would die upon the end of the current generation of children, so many women illegally left the planet through black-market smuggling. The Erynian Armed Space Wing took exception to this. There is an infamous example where an Andorian freighter responded to a plea from a flotilla of six ships, packed to the bilges with Erynian females. The Andorians cruised to the border of Erynian space, and it was hoped that the refugees would get across the border in time for the Andorians to beam them aboard.

"But, when they were just two hundred kilometres from the freighter, the convoy was attacked by Erynian fighters. All of the ships were destroyed. Many escape pods were launched, but they too were attacked. By chance, one pod, carrying two Erynian women, drifted across the border, and the Andorians granted them asylum. The captain and his first officer took the two young women as wives later, and the Erynian government vowed that the families would be sought out and punished.

"The fallout also caused rapid ageing in the population, though, and it was in 2340 that the Federation, after several rejected offers of assistance, sent the USS Shakespeare across the frontier, only to find a dead world. It was assumed that the last of the Erynian population was extinct."

"A tragic story", mused the doctor.

"True", concurred Ramelow. "Based on that, I would assume that N'Lokan was a member of one of the Andorian families who sheltered the Erynian women, and the killer is one of the last Erynians, who still holds a grudge after seventy-odd years."

"A black chapter in the history of the United Federation of Planets, and one of us had to pay after so long", pondered Anthony.

* * *

When Anthony returned to Holodeck Two he found Brenkar and the two mathematicians hard at work. He had chosen the perfect holograms for the assignment, he thought: Patrick Coleman, the Zephram Cochrane before Zephram Cochrane, had been the first to speculate on practical faster-than-light travel using matter and antimatter, and had mathematically proven his theories via his Mathematical Singularity doctrine before disappearing during the Third World War; and Edmund Khoo, Coleman's contemporary, who had created the Quantum Algebraic Scale which first Coleman and then Cochrane utilised to make warp travel a reality. On top of these incredible achievements, there were innumerable other mathematical innovations both had ushered in, but Anthony, having never been mathematically minded, tended only to remember their two most famous contributions to humanity. After all, both Mathematical Singularity and Quantum Algebraic Scale were two of the subjects at the Academy offered only to highly promising pupils, and while Anthony had barely passed both courses, his admiration for both men was enduring. He headed first not to Brenkar, but to Khoo.

"How is it coming along, Mr. Khoo?"

"Stop calling me Mr. Khoo", the Twenty-First Century mathematician replied with such loudness and clarity that one could say his voice was theatrical. Anthony stifled a yelp of laughter; he recalled Khoo to be slightly eccentric but brilliant. Noting that he was hard at work, Anthony moved across to the workstation of Coleman.

"Captain", the hologram said, failing to look up from his toils, "I believe we are close to a solution. We have calculated two hundred and sixty-one decimal numerals already, and I predict that we shall only need to determine fifty or so more."

"That was quick", commented Anthony. For the first time, Brenkar noticed his presence, and immediately jumped from his holographic seat to a pose of rigid attention.

"Sir, I'm sorry…I didn't realise that…"

"Quite all right, Ensign", Anthony interrupted. "I know you're all hard at work. Call me when you have a solution."

With that, Simon Anthony departed the environment of photons and force-fields.

CHAPTER FIVE

Captain's Log, Stardate 54973.2
It has been two days now since my return to Mariner. The stand-off between ourselves and a unit of crack Starfleet Marines has been managed, so I am told, by Commander Rhodes of the Adventure, who has been able to delay the planned assault on my vessel from McKinlay. I do believe I owe him a drink.
Also in my debt is Ensign Brenkar. He has only been aboard for about a week, and already he has proven a valuable member of the crew. The holographic representation of Patrick Coleman proved frighteningly accurate; the dioplasmic pulse frequency has exactly three hundred and eleven decimal places. We have delayed our surrender to Adventure until we have completed simulations with the pulse. The final one was finished two hours ago.
This could well be my final entry as captain of this ship. I will take full responsibility for the actions of Jakob Ramelow, should our attempts to apprehend the killer fail, and this episode comes to a court-martial. Preparations, including a dump of antimatter, have been completed, and I am now left with the duty of turning my ship over to Jacob Rhodes.

Anthony strode out of his ready room purposefully. The majority of the senior staff were at their stations, save Lon Tanier, who was still in custody on Earth, and Rebecca Gregory, also imprisoned, but who would not have been present on the bridge anyway. "I always knew I might have to surrender the ship one day", Anthony joked, "but I would never have guessed I'd do so over Earth!"

"Shall I open hailing frequencies, sir?", Ensign Lane asked. Anthony nodded.

"Channel open sir", Lane said after a second.

"USS Adventure, this is Simon Anthony of the Mariner."

Once again, Rhodes appeared on screen.

"Good day, Captain", he greeted.

Anthony stepped forward.

"On behalf of the crew of the USS Mariner, NCC-77301, I surrender this ship to you, sir", Anthony told him with a formal tone. "I request that you beam a security team aboard, and I also ask that you have McKinlay send their best engineers aboard. We're having difficulties with the warp core."

This final comment was synchronised with an audible clunk, which jolted Rhodes into a semi-excited tone.

"Mariner, you've just lost a large amount of antimatter!"

At that moment, a warning klaxon sounded. Alexandra Lane spoke.

"Sir, life support is beginning to fail on all decks."

Anthony turned back to his counterpart on the Adventure.

"Mr. Rhodes, we need those engineers now, or we'll all be dead."

A hum could be heard at the rear of the bridge, and when Anthony turned, he found himself staring at a small group of Adventure's security officers, each brandishing a phaser rifle. A few seconds later, a bearded McKinlay technician materialised next to the operations console.

"Don't worry, Captain Anthony", he said. "Captain Rhodes alerted us to the situation, and teams of engineers are now in Main Engineering."

"Are all of the McKinlay repair crews aboard?", queried Anthony.

"Yes", the newcomer replied simply.

Before the leader of the Adventure security team could stop him, Anthony clicked his commbadge.

"Anthony to Science Lab One. Now!"

A bright pink flash enveloped the bridge, temporarily disorientating everyone. There was a quiet yell of pain, and a loud thump. Gradually, as her vision returned to normal, Alexandra Lane found herself next to the crumpled form of the repairman.

"Sir!"

Anthony turned again to face ops, his vision hazy but recovering. He saw the body lying on the deck. "Rhodes", he hailed to the Adventure's captain, who was still on screen. "We've apprehended the murderer of Chief Maintenance Officer N'Lokan. Would you please ask your men to take him into custody, and then get those other engineers off my ship?"

Rhodes burst into a happy grin.

"It would be my pleasure, Captain Anthony."

* * *

When he awoke, he found himself in a holding cell. He struggled to his feet, but stumbled into the force-field. The shock of the energy barrier made him return to his metallic bed. His vision was blurry, but he could make out three officers outside the cell.

"Welcome back", Rhodes said simply.

The bearded man managed to put voice to a question, before being violently ill on the deck.

"Where am I?"

"You, my good man, are in the brig of the USS Adventure", replied Rhodes disdainfully, trying to ignore the unsightly mess that the prisoner had made of his nice clean floor. "You are hereby charged with the murder of a Federation citizen and member of Starfleet, namely Chief Maintenance Officer N'Lokan of Earth Station McKinlay."

"I am guilty, as you are well aware."

"Very true", said the second figure. "As we are also well aware, you are Erynian. How did you survive the extinction of your race, and why was N'Lokan murdered?"

Simon Anthony tapped his fingers on the metal lining the force-field emitters, waiting for the answers.

"I am Major Refaga of the Erynian Foreign Police. I was tasked with seeking out and destroying any offspring of the unions of the Andorian officers of the freighter Snekal, and the two traitors, Helam and Wekaba. I was given this assignment shortly before the last of us died, and I was put into stasis, so I would not age, and hence I could avenge the destruction of my people.

"My stasis pod released me four years ago. I have since spent my time tracking down any progeny of the treasonous defectors. I soon discovered that Wekaba had no children before her death, but Helam had one, N'Lokan, who had become chief maintenance officer on Earth Station McKinlay."

Refaga spat on the deck.

"From then on, it was easy enough to become a civilian contractor for the station, for my anatomy is similar enough to that of a human as to pass myself off as one. The perfect opportunity arose for the execution of N'Lokan while the USS Mariner was in for repairs."

He had spoken without remorse. In fact, he had smiled when he said his last sentence. Ramelow, the third officer present, simmered with anger.

"What did his death accomplish, Refaga? Your people are dead. He was the last tie to a native of Hojeron II that you would ever find, and you killed him in cold blood. You're all alone now, Refaga. You have no government that will negotiate for your extradition, because of diplomatic courtesy. Because you got employment as a Federation civilian, you will be tried as such, and you will live out your miserable existence in a Federation penal colony", he said with contempt and coldness. Refaga smirked, then giggled.

"There you are wrong, human", he snarled. "I am ageing rapidly. I may look reasonably young, but my immune system is as weak as that of an old man. I will die before I go to trial, safe in the knowledge that I completed my mission."

Ramelow could endure no more of this cold, calculated killer and his talk of glory through murder. He punched the wall violently, causing his right knuckle to bleed. As he turned to leave, he muttered to Rhodes.

"Do us all a favour, Commander. Throw him out of an airlock, and let him see Earth while he burns up in the atmosphere!"

Then he stormed out of the brig of the Akira cruiser.

EPILOGUE

Captain's Log, Stardate 54973.4
All major repairs have been completed, leaving only some cosmetic defects here and there, which we'll deal with when we're underway.
Admiral Paris tells me that Admiral Courtenay was baying for my blood at a meeting of Starfleet Command. However, both Admiral Paris and Commander Rhodes put in a good word for Mariner, and so I am still able to cruise the stars at the helm of my own ship.
It is infuriating to know that Refaga will never serve a stay in prison. As the bruising on Jakob Ramelow's hand is testament to, he isn't very pleased with that either.
We are leaving Earth Station today, but we will remain in orbit, ready to receive our new orders.

"Mr. Tanier, it's good to see you back at the helm", Anthony announced as he stepped out of his ready room. The Betazoid smiled.

"Mariner's a lot nicer than the San Fran holding cells, sir."

"Well then", Anthony said as he lowered himself into the 'Big Chair', "let's not waste any time. Take us out, Lon. Ahead full thrusters."

"Ahead full thrusters, aye, sir."

Mariner slowly slid out from under the sprawling spider-like legs of McKinlay, as majestically as a Terran dolphin in the depths of the Indian Ocean. Leisurely, her great twin nacelles, glowing a luminescent red and blue, cleared the huge structure, and the pride of Starfleet left Earth Station for the second time in her short life.

"Sir, we have cleared McKinlay", announced Tanier. Suddenly, an alarm sounded at the ops station.

"Captain", Lane called, "I am detecting a spatial disturbance, dead ahead, less than a light year away." She waited for the computer to identify the disturbance. When it did, she broke into a cold sweat. She looked up in shock.

"Sir", she said, her tone betraying how shaken she was. "It's a Borg transwarp conduit."

* * *

On Mariner's bridge there was a dead silence. "Oh God", Tanier whispered hoarsely.

Anthony finally took action.

"Mr. Lane, hail Starfleet Command."

She shook her head as the computer beeped.

"Sir, they're hailing us", she answered.

On the view-screen, the scene changed from the panorama ahead to the stern portrait of Owen Paris.

"Captain Anthony, we've detected a Borg conduit close by", he proclaimed. "I know that you're under Courtenay's jurisdiction, but I am requesting that you lead the force that will meet whatever Borg ships come out of that thing."

"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune…"

"Hamlet, Act Three, Scene One", Paris identified. Anthony nodded.

"In this case, sir, we'll suffer those slings and arrows…and gravimetric torpedoes and cutting beams if we have to."

Paris grinned with true warmth.

"Thank you, Simon."

Then the channel was closed. Anthony rubbed his chin.

"Red alert."

* * *

Jacob Rhodes sat in the captain's chair of the Adventure as the cruiser slowly wheeled around Earth. He was just about to order his helmsman, Miriam Coy, to set a course out of the system, when the visage of Admiral Paris appeared on screen.

"Captain Rhodes, I don't know if you've detected it yet, but there's a Borg transwarp conduit about half a light year from Earth, on your bearing one-two-six-mark-two-nine. You are ordered to rendezvous with the USS Mariner and the rest of the fleet and destroy the Borg ship that comes through."

With that, he signed off. Mirroring Mariner's command centre, the bridge of the Adventure was dead quiet. Eventually, Rhodes arose from his chair. "Well, you heard the man", he said to Coy. "Let's go."

* * *

The Borg Sphere squeezed through the conduit slowly, far more slowly than Anthony had imagined it would. Immediately, Anthony turned to Tasek.

"Target…Hell, target any part on that ship which could explode. Fire phasers."

Instantly, several beams of energy burst through space, impacting with the Sphere's hull, but causing no discernable damage. Seconds later, more phaser blasts rattled the ship as Paris' makeshift fleet, among them Adventure, opened fire as well.

Something is not right, Anthony thought to himself in bemusement. Starfleet vessels were posing a threat to the Borg, yet there was no cutting beam, no gravimetric torpedo, not even a ubiquitous "resistance is futile".

"Launch quantum torpedoes", Anthony ordered. As ordered, three sparkling blue warheads leapt from their tubes, detonating against the Sphere, followed by photons from the Steamrunner, Adventure and Gorbachev.

"Sir", Ensign Lane said with puzzlement, "there's a large energy build-up coming from the Sphere."

Training told him to continue the assault, but instinct dictated otherwise to Simon Anthony.

"Lon, reverse course, fast! Tell the fleet to pull away!"

Mariner shuddered to a halt as her impulse engines were thrown into reverse, then she bucked, and jumped back towards Earth. The rest of the fleet followed suit. Abruptly, the Borg vessel burst apart in a violent explosion of heat and light. Mariner shook like Los Angeles did in an earthquake, before the geological dampeners were installed. But out of the apocalyptic explosion of death and destruction came a beautiful vessel. Anthony saw it first on the screen, an Intrepid-class starship cutting through the tiny blotches of green and purple plasma fire that erupted as a result of the sudden detonation.

"Which ship is that?", asked Ramelow in awe. Lane shook her head.

"Our transceiver hasn't been repaired yet, so I'm not receiving an identification code. I'll cross- reference her with the database…"

"Don't bother", smiled Anthony. Instinct had told him who it was. "Open hailing frequencies."

Lane did as ordered.

"Channel open, sir."

Anthony stood.

"This is Simon Anthony of the Mariner calling Kathryn Janeway and the brave crew of the USS Voyager, come in, please."

There was a moment of pause, then a woman appeared on the screen.

"Hello, Simon", Kathryn Janeway said with a grin as broad as Anthony's. "It's good to see you again."

A small tear streamed down Anthony's cheek, a tear of joy.

"Welcome home."

* * *

The crowds gathered by the shoreline of San Francisco, jostling for position. News had come quickly from the office of Admiral Paris that there would be a great impromptu spectacle for all by the waterfront. However, no one was quite sure what it would be.

"Look!"

The voice of a man was heard just next to the Golden Gate Bridge. The crowd around him looked to where he was pointing. Through the wispy clouds of the day, through the white surf of the air, came a Sovereign-class starship, flying overhead in a majestic display. Not far behind her, though, and the subject of even more amazement and then jubilation, came a smaller ship. A cruiser, of the Intrepid design. She hovered over the bridge for a moment and even performed a barrel roll, just long enough for some observers to catch sight of her registry number.

NCC-74656.

Voyager had returned.