Star Trek Grissom - Chapter 10 - Per Ardua Ad Astris

Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

Chapter 10:

“Per Per @rdu^, @d @str^” @str^ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

by Bodo Hartwig

Edited by Rick Pike Cover artwork by Sam Wich

Star Trek: Grissom created by Seán Paul Teeling & Melissa D. Wilson © 2012 Black Wall Productions

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Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be For you will bend and tell me that you love me And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me - Frederic Weatherly, 1910

Prologue – Earth – Great Britain.

I

t was the most beautiful morning, a day too bright for pain and grievous thoughts. Brian Childers looked through the window and watched the landscapes rushing by, as the 9:00 a.m. TransRapid made its usual seven minutes from Cambridge Hills Road to Liverpool Street, London. Squinting into the sunny day put a smile on Brian’s face, as if something was telling him that everything was going to be alright.

Even though it was nothing but a delusion.

Holding a fiery bunch of late summer roses, young Daniel Childers sat beside him with the grumpiest look on his face. For a ten year old he was able put his forehead in deep wrinkles like an old man, which looked somehow creepy and disturbing. He bit his lips while he stared with glassy eyes into the nowhere.

“Cheer up, young man,” said Brian, “your Mum doesn’t want to see you like this.”

Danny avoided looking up. “I don’t like that hospital,” he responded, and a certain anger in his voice made Brian take a deep breath.

“It’ll be over soon, you’ll see. Just a couple of weeks and a little bit of patience, and we’ll all be together again for the Holidays.”

“Bullshit,” the boy hissed. “I heard the doctors talking. Mum’s going to die and you know it.”

“Language!” Brian commanded strictly. “I don’t want to hear that again.”

A “pfft!” escaped Danny’s lips while he shook his head in cynicism. Then he turned around to finally look at his father.

“I hate you,” he said coldly.

A definite emotion. And it was Brian now who looked down into the nowhere.

The rest of their ride was silence.

Reality check.

Fifteen minutes later, when the doors to her quiet single room opened, Rosie Childers smiled and opened her arms to let her son fall into them. She wasn’t able to sit upright in her sickbed, so Danny just leaned over and buried his head on her chest for a while, revealing how much he had missed her. Brian put the roses he had brought into a nearby vase, then took his wife’s hand for a short but intense grip.

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Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

“Hey, my love.”

“Hey,” she responded with a fading voice. “Have you two been behaving yourselves?”

“Of course not,” Brian answered with a twinkle. “I ate all the candies and he drank up all my beer. Such a mess, I tell you.”

She tried to laugh, while Danny let go and sat down in a chair. His glance was fixed on his mother’s pale skin. Her tired eyes looked swollen and red, accompanied by random tics in both corners of her mouth. She had a drip attached to her arm, while a small monitor next to the bed showed a pinging graph of her brain activity, fed by electrodes placed on her forehead. Brian endeavoured to ignore all of this and kissed her lips softly.

“So how are the nerves doing today?”

“The doctors keep telling me the dysphagia is much better, although I can’t feel anything. I still can’t feel them,” she said and pointed towards her legs.

“You will, honey. You just have to believe in it,” Brian assured her. “By the way, Mum sends her best wishes. She’s over in Dublin this week to promote her new paintings.”

“I’ve seen some of them,“ Rosie said. “She mailed some pictures the other day.

They are gorgeous.”

“As soon as she can find someone to look after the house permanently, she’ll be with us in Cambridge to help out.”

There was an awkward moment of silence, but Rosie wouldn’t have it. She sighed and turned her head to look at her son. “And when’s your big event, sweetheart?”

“The day after tomorrow,” the boy answered, and for the first time Danny smiled with a hint of pride. “I’ve got the high bar in the morning and the horizontal after lunch.”

“You’re going to beat them all.”

“Sure – I hope.” But as if a shadow was returning, the smile faded as soon as it emerged, and he gravely added: “Dad’s not gonna come see it.”

Brian looked at the boy and spoke like an old repeating record. “Danny… I already told you I’m sorry. I just can’t make it.”

“Your exams?” asked Rosie.

“Yeah,” Brian nodded. “Hobbles says he’s gonna sack me if I don’t sit down and practise.”

“And you can’t even spare a couple of hours for the accomplishments of our son?”

“Don’t try it, Mum,” the boy ranted. “He won’t listen.”

“Hold on!” shouted Brian. “This is my career we’re talking about. Can’t you see that?”

“I see it alright!” responded Danny, highlighting every syllable of it.

Without noticing two short and irregular ‘pings’ on the monitor beside him, Brian turned around. “Why do you talk to me like that? I’m working my butt off for us, and I always support you!”

“Then come and watch me compete!”

“I can’t!”

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Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

“Yes, you can! You just don’t want to! All you can think about is sit in your bloody architect’s office, but the truth is you can’t even draw a cube without a computer!”

“Shut it, will you!”

Another series of ‘pings’ sounded which Brian did not notice. Instead, he left the bed and walked toward the boy, who sprang to his feet, ready to fight.

“You’ll never be a real designer!” shouted Danny.

“And what would you know about that?” asked Brian in return.

“You can’t even hold a pen!”

“Dammit, boy! What I have done to deserve this?”

“Come to the sports festival and watch me!”

“No!” “Then get lost, mad man!” And with this, Danny turned around, pulled open the door and let it bang behind him like a gunshot.

There was a second of silence.

All of a sudden, Brian noticed the chaos on the monitor screen: the ‘pings’ were going crazy! With a shock going down his spine, he saw that Rosie’s entire body was beginning to tremble, her eyes were rolling and showing the whites. Spit ran from her mouth. It seemed her nervous system was overloading and about to collapse.

“Rosie! Don’t do this! Fight it!” he screamed and jumped to the doors.

“Doctor… We need a doctor!” he shouted into the hallway.

Emergency! We need help here! Quick!

Doctor! …

Doctooor…!!

And with this, he finally woke up.

Breathing heavily, Brian Childers found himself sitting straight in his bed. His heart was throbbing wildly. Confused and irritated, he looked around and ensured he was not in the hospital anymore, but alone in his quarters, in the real world, at present time, aboard the U.S.S. Grissom.

It was one of those bad dreams of the past he’d gone through… again.

The second night in a row.

It took him a moment to notice the comm panel at the door, which was constantly blinking and buzzing. It somehow reminded him of the hospital device.

Still pushed by adrenaline, he got up and walked over, taking a deep breath as he pressed the button.

“Childers here,” he said and realized that the panel also indicated the Grissom was on Yellow Alert.

“Sorry to wake you up, Lieutenant,” replied the familiar voice of Security Officer Lars Thorsen through the speaker. “Please report to Sickbay immediately.”

“Acknowledged. But it’s four in the morning, Thor – What’s going on?”

“Captain’s orders, Lieutenant, your presence is required ASAP. It’s about Nurse Murphy.”

And to Brian’s horror, Thorsen’s voice could not have been more grave as he added: “He’s dead.”

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Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

U.S.S. Grissom – Sickbay.

A

lthough it had seen troubled times recently (to put it mildly), the Sickbay compartment aboard the U.S.S. Grissom was never as crowded as it was right now. Not only were the doors guarded by security officers from outside, but inside most of the senior staff had had already come together.

Captain Jonathan T. Esteban was breathing loudly as he approached Dr. S’Raazh’s little office to take a look at Seán Murphy’s body. Lieutenant Thorsen was there, too, as was Lieutenant Casas and Commander Ottair. They all appeared to be in shock.

Vindi S’Raazh was leaning over the body as Esteban gently put his hand on her shoulders. He knew she had been through hell lately, especially after the Alcyonians decided to execute all of their kinsmen who were infected by the Tarellian Plague, which Dr. S’Raazh had been unable to nullify. Esteban had given her some freedom to recover, and everyone noticed how badly she needed it. As a result, Nurse Seán Murphy had done a great job of taking care of the crew’s physicals over the last days, while she mainly isolated herself from the crew and only came out to examine her stasis chambers, to continue her investigation of the four dead Tholians Grissom was still carrying.

Now she put her hand above Esteban’s, and looked into his eyes. “You don’t need to be a scientist to figure out Murphy was killed the same way those Tholians were.”

“Can you be sure?” he asked.

“Look at the wounds on his torso and legs. Their bodies have been dismembered in the same way.”

Lieutenant Casas, the Grissom’s Chief of Security, dared to come closer and stared bewildered.

“Indeed,” he said, “this is exactly like those bodies on Deck 4.”

“Meaning?” wondered Commander Ottair from the corner, as she folded her arms. “Are you implying we have a murderer on board who is responsible for more than just this?”

“Yes,” replied Lars Thorsen from the opposite corner of the office. “And to tell you what, I’d very much like to see the body of that Romulan, ‘Ash’, too, or whatever his real name was. Murphy found his body in the computer core after our encounter with Cyrano Jones.”

Casas turned around, and for a moment his subtle hate for Thorsen broke through again. He never got on well with Thorsen, and this kind of insider information reminded him once more of how much different their thinking, and acting, was.

“Is that the reason you had nothing better to do than to put Murphy in the brig for a full day of interrogations?” he asked.

“Those events are indeed related, Mr. Casas,” replied Esteban quickly. “But Thorsen did that on my orders.”

Vindi sighed. “Well, I still haven’t investigated the Romulan yet. But something’s telling me there is indeed a connection between them all. To be honest, after Murphy came out with his story about that mysterious Cadet, who 5

Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

turned up out of nowhere and literally pointed him to the Romulan’s body, I did not believe a word, either.”

“Neither did I,” replied Thorsen. And after a moment of embarrassing silence, he added what everyone in the room was thinking: “Not even after Lieutenant Tamkivi broke out with that virus did I think about possible links between everything that has been going on lately. It’s only too clear now that we have a murderer on board for quite some time, and Seán had to die for it.”

They stood silently for a moment until Lieutenant Childers, a bit short-breathed but steady as always, entered the room with the usual “Sorry, sir” towards Esteban, who rubbed his chin and did not look up.

“At ease, Lieutenant. Thank you for coming,” the Captain said. “I want you to work together with Doctor S’Raazh and take a look into Nurse Murphy’s entire log entries and medical reports from the last few days.”

“Aye, sir,” nodded Childers, but his face got pale as he became aware of the dead body on the floor. Seán Murphy looked like he had been skinned alive; a devastating picture which burnt itself into Childers’s mind.

“Don’t step in the blood,” warned S’Raazh, causing him to shiver in disgust. He quickly backed off, barely daring to breathe.

Captain Esteban raised his voice to cut the silence, because from his point of view, it was now time for a proper discussion and clear orders.

“Alright,” he said, “since the whole mess isn’t just about Murphy, or all those other murders, I want this mysterious Cadet to be found as soon as possible. We have to assume there is someone on board who does not belong to the crew, and is travelling with us as a stowaway. We MUST get him. We also have to assume this same person is involved in the infection and death of Specialist Tamkivi. Right now I’m just puzzled by the fact that the rest of us are still alive. He’s clearly leaving us a message that he’s able to kill off any one of us, at any time.”

“My thoughts exactly,” added Thorsen and caused Lieutenant Casas to roll his eyes again. “If what Seán told me is true, then this cadet is more dangerous than anything we have encountered since we left Starbase 67 on our mission.”

“Our ill-fated mission,” added S’Raazh and sat down tiredly.

“Hold on a moment,” said Casas, suddenly thinking of a recent encounter he’d had. “Do I take it that Murphy spoke of someone dressed in a Starfleet cadet’s uniform? A tall, fit guy in his twenties, brown hair and trained like an athlete? Soft voice, calming attitude and a certain twinkle in his eyes? Who disappeared just as mysteriously as he turned up?”

“Mr. Casas?” asked Esteban and turned around. “Is there something you would like to add?”

Everyone was looking at Casas now, who slowly nodded. “Well… it’s possible I might have seen him, too. He turned up on Deck 4 after the Tholian attack and told us exactly where to find the dead bodies.”

“Wasn’t Mr. Jata with you in that corridor, Casas?” asked Commander Ottair, who remembered the incident with the Tholians too well, as she was in charge of the Bridge during the attack and had spoken to Casas and Petty Officer Jata via hand-held communicators.

“Jata didn’t see him,” answered Casas resigned. “Only I did.”

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Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

Thorsen hissed angrily. “And you are telling us this NOW? I don’t believe this!

Why, Casas, you’re such a piece of work! This is such a bad attitude, performing your duty while you’re keeping your own little secrets all along.”

“Ah, I thought YOU were the master of bad attitude and little secrets yourself, Mister Thorsen. Can’t you just speak calmly?”

“Casas is right, Thor,” said Ottair from afar. “You need to take it down.”

“And actually,” Casas continued, “in case you’ve forgotten about it – like everything else you prefer to ignore – tell me again, who’s the lead security officer on this ship?”

That was too much for Thorsen. “How dare you talk to me like that!” he shouted and jumped forward, almost striking the Spanish Lieutenant in the face. It was Esteban himself who grabbed his arm harshly and stopped him.

“Thorsen! Gentlemen! Will you two just calm down! I need you to work together, not against one another! Each of us could have had some encounter with that stranger and not given it a second thought. As far as I am concerned, there is nothing to blame Lieutenant Casas for.”

Thorsen backed off but did not say a word.

“Did I make myself clear, Thorsen?” Esteban asked again.

“Yes… sir,” answered the blond Swede and looked at Stephanie Ottair, who was still standing in the corner, visibly shaking her head in worry.

Esteban let him go. “Let’s make no mistake then,” he said. “And no hard feelings, Lieutenants, but I need your full cooperation now. If both Murphy and Casas are right, then this Cadet is only seen by us when he wishes us to. We have to keep that in mind.”

“CCTV,” responded Casas. “Do we have cameras we can install in all main areas?”

“No,” answered Lieutenant Childers, breaking his own silence. “I’m afraid we aren’t equipped for that.”

“Then I would find a way to tackle that,” said the Captain. “I’ll talk to Starfleet Command and ask Admiral Morrow for help.”

“I would also suggest that Casas creates a composite sketch of that Cadet,” added Childers, “so that the crew can take a look at it as well.”

“Very good,” confirmed Esteban. “In fact, Mr. Thorsen, I want you and Casas to question every single crew member about their whereabouts at the time of the murder, and about every possible thing they might have seen, or heard, between 2200 and 0200 hours. There will be no exceptions! By the way… where is Mr. Chattman again?”

“Probably to bed,” responded Dr. S’Raazh, “since he’s no longer a member of the senior staff.”

“Right, I forgot,” Esteban nodded. “But I want Chattman to modify some tricorders for us, so that interviews can be recorded and stored. Lieutenant Casas, you’re in charge.”

“With pleasure, sir,” said Casas.

“If you need help, Commander Ottair will assist you.”

“Naturally,” said Ottair.

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Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

“And Doctor S’Raazh… Vindi… while Childers is going through Murphy’s logs, I want a full autopsy of the body. Compare it also to that Romulan character Ash.” “Yes, Jonathan,” said Vindi, and everyone could see the horror in her eyes about having to do this.

Esteban took another deep breath. “I want you to know, everyone in this room, that I understand precisely what you’re feeling. Some of you knew Mr. Murphy for a long time and were his friends – I respect that. But even more important is that personal issues and constant arguments never were, and never will be an option on this ship. Not while I am in command.”

“Aye, sir.” Casas and Thorsen said at the same time.

“Good”, replied the Captain. “To make myself clear: I really don’t need your attitudes… I have my own to deal with.”

With this he left the place, and the guarded doors closed behind him. They all sighed.

But for several moments, no one dared to say a word.

U.S.S. Grissom – Deck 2 – Aabin’s and Chattman’s quarters.

T

he sleep of a Deltan was usually deep and very long. In fact, Deltans usually spent half of their lives in bed, and for humans it was hard to imagine how much energy it actually cost them to be fully ‘present’ over a certain amount of hours. Deltans had both mental and emotional abilities which, for outsiders, appeared to be a miracle, almost bordering upon magic and wizardry. In exchange for those physiological and hormonal capabilities, however, their bodies needed much compensation and rest to recover.

Christopher Chattman had gotten used to that lifestyle quite easily. After Captain Esteban demoted him and pulled back all his assignments, making him seem a completely redundant person in front of the others, Chattman enjoyed nothing more than ignoring all this mess, and was happy to spend as much quality time as possible with his Deltan boyfriend, Aabin. Like a storm, taking over his life entirely, this young, bald guy with the deep, humble voice had become all, and everything, for him.

To be fair, Christopher Chattman was not at all “gay” in the standard way of human thinking. In fact, he did not like guys at all – he just liked this guy.

According to Doctor S’Raazh, his feelings for Aabin were neither triggered by his mental powers, nor by subtle pheromone transfers, which, admittedly, occurred easily through the simplest proximity to a Deltan.

To the enjoyment of Chattman’s closest friend (and critic) on board, Helm Officer Rebecca Sato, he was finally coming to terms with himself. At least a little bit. He gave himself and others a hard time before being able to admit that he had completely fallen for Aabin. But now, as long as they were together, it was all that mattered to him.

The Deltan boy did not wake up when Christopher got the call to report to the Captain’s Ready Room. He dressed quietly and managed to drink a quick coffee to 8

Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

bring some life to his brain cells. Only when he put on his shoes and closed the zippers did Aabin turn around in bed, reaching out his arm towards him.

“What’s happening?” he asked tired and sleepy. “It is four in the morning.”

“Shhh,” Christopher said calmly, leaning over to kiss him. “The Old Man wants to see me. We’ve dropped out of warp as well. I have no idea what’s happened.”

“I can hear people in the corridors,” Aabin said. “This is strange.”

“I know,” replied Christopher and put his hand on Aabin’s bald head. “But I promise I’ll be back soon.”

“Please,” said Aabin and smiled. “Because I might have become addicted to your presence, sir.”

“As I am addicted to you,” replied Christopher and kissed him again. “Night night, sleep tight. And don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

“Bed bugs?”

“Never mind,” laughed Christopher. “Just keep the bed warm.” And with a twinkle he stood up and was already at the door.

“Bye,” he said, and left.

Aabin yawned and stared at the wall, where a blinking light next to the door signalled that Grissom was on Yellow Alert. He tried to listen to what the staff outside was talking about, but was unable to catch any words.

He got up and put on some pants, which were Christopher’s actually, and walked to the replicator for some cold water. He stretched his arms and chest and touched his shoulders, where he could still feel the spot where the Tholian disruptor had hit him. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but only ten days had passed since.

Then, out of the nowhere, he heard it again.

That strange, distant voice in his head, softly calling his name.

Aabin…

Aaaabin…

Terlis! The Deltan leader of Cinera Base who he saw being shot and killed during Grissom’s very first encounter.

But could it be?

Aabin stumbled and held on the desk next to him, trying to avoid a panic attack.

“Get out!” he begged. “Get out of my mind!”

The voice inside him laughed coldly and made him shiver all over. He could not stand this evil terror anymore, which had been growing stronger and stronger each night, placing cruel thoughts into his mind, crawling through his brain like a spiky Tellarite wormsnake.

Tablets! he thought. Where are the pills Murphy gave me? He opened the desk’s drawer, wildly skimming through it, but the little glass container he found inside was empty.

“Murphy,” he mumbled without breath, stumbled towards the door and hit the computer’s comm button with his whole fist. “Aabin to Murphy!”

No reply. He hit the button again.

“Aabin to Murphy. Nurse Murphy, please respond!”

Nothing.

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Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

“Computer,” he said. “Locate Nurse Murphy.”

With its usual beep, at last the computer voice responded.

“Nurse Murphy is currently in Sickbay.”

He pressed the button again.

“Aabin to Sickbay. Nurse Murphy, can you hear me?”

After a moment, the comm signal finally came up. But it wasn’t Seán Murphy’s voice he heard on the speakers, but that of Grissom’s Chief Security Officer.

“Casas here – What’s wrong, Aabin?”

“I…err… I would like to speak to Mr. Murphy, if I may.”

“This isn’t possible, young man.”

“Is he not in Sickbay then? Can I come over there, perhaps?”

“Please stay where you are,” Casas said with a certain hesitation.

“But sir, I –“ “Just remain in your quarters. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“No… I have to see Mr. Murphy. Please tell him –“ “Aabin, we’re busy right now!”

“But I need him! It’s an emergency! I need my medication!” he begged, barely able to stand on his feet anymore. And like a relief, unexpectedly, he heard the voice of Doctor S’Raazh, even though she sounded strangely serious and concerned.

“Aabin, please hold on for a while. I’m afraid Murphy can’t help you. And you’re not on medication anymore. What’s wrong?”

He began to cry. “Please, Doctor… All I’m asking is to put me through to Mr. Murphy, nothing more. I can’t… explain… this… now… Please.”

Someone else on the other side raised his voice – Lieutenant Thorsen. “For Heaven’s sake, Specialist, please stay calm and I’ll be with you in five minutes.”

“You can’t do that,” Aabin heard Casas respond.

“If this is an emergency, I will personally accompany him and escort him here.”

“No, Thorsen, and this is an order. No one enters Sickbay without my permission.”

“It’s alright, Lieutenants,” S’Raazh said. “Thorsen, you’re hereby assigned to get to specialist Aabin and bring him. I’m the doctor on this ship, Casas, and whether you like it or not, it is I who decide who enters my Sickbay.”

Aabin sobbed. He had no idea what they were arguing about.

“This is outrageous!” shouted Casas. “We can’t have him here now!”

“No, you’re outrageous!” shouted Thorsen back.

“And if he sees…?” Casas hissed.

“Gentlemen, please!! I’ve decided,” claimed S’Raazh, then continued gently into the comm microphone. “I’m sorry, Aabin. Lieutenant Thorsen will be with you shortly. Are you still there?”

Aabin took a deep breath and wiped some tears away. “Yes…” “Good – I guess you have to be strong now, you understand? Can you do that?”

He closed his eyes, more tears were running down his cheeks. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay”, said S’Raazh almost voiceless. “Just five minutes, young man. Sickbay out.”

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Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

Aabin sank to the ground. There must have been a reason why they held him back from talking to Murphy, and he began to realize how much he just embarrassed himself, and them. But why were all those officers in Sickbay at the same time?

Something terrible must have happened.

All of a sudden he felt sorry that he had disturbed them because he was freaking out and panicking about nothing. Sorry for the argument he had just caused between them. Sorry for being the cause for trouble again. As if getting shot, hiding a Tribble, or being put into quarantine for a damn, stupid virus hadn’t been enough already.

He buried his head between his knees. Maybe it would have been better if he had left Grissom as Commander Ottair had once suggested, if he had beamed over to the U.S.S. Enterprise or U.S.S. Tempest, and taken whatever ride back to his home world on Delta IV, even if that had meant leaving Christopher…

But there it was again, that strange, distant laughter inside him, Terlis’s voice in his mind, bathing in sheer satisfaction.

Aww…! You see? I told you it would happen sooner or later. You’re beginning to lose it.

And with the enjoyment of triumph, he whispered into his ear: You will lose EVERYTHING!

U.S.S. Grissom – Deck 1 – Ready Room.

M

eanwhile, in his Ready Room, Captain Esteban tapped his finger nervously on his desk, while he had yet another of those secret conversations with Starfleet Headquarters.

Starfleet Commander Morrow was one of those admirals you always saw looking worried and in doubt, and permanently under pressure. Two secretaries had to manage all of his appointments and were the only people in the quadrant who always knew where to find him, and to put urgent calls through if necessary. For not only was he amongst the highest ranks of the Starfleet brass, he also had three permanent offices in which to perform his daily business: one at the Headquarters in San Francisco, one in Paris, only two floors below the Federation President’s lounges, and the third one being on the newly built Starbase Alpha, which was referred to by most officials simply as ‘Earth Spacedock’.

Not many in Starfleet were granted such a luxury. There was Morrow’s colleague Admiral Androvar Drake from Starfleet Security who had a comparably stressing life dealing with all the military sections and preparing for a possible Klingon threat. There was also Rear Admiral Lance Cartwright from the Secret Service, who (when he was not openly trying to undermine Morrow’s position) was always busy staying on top of things about the current Klingon fleet movements. And, of course, there was Grand Admiral Stephen Turner, who was Second CEO at Starfleet Headquarters and spent most of his time in Paris in 11

Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

meeting rooms with foreign ambassadors and politicians from all corners of the Federation, and to whom people like Morrow, Drake and Cartwright had to report on a daily basis.

Most of the time, Morrow was in charge of all the science and exploratory vessels, with the majority of them being on one-year or five-year missions like the Federation’s soon-to-be-decommissioned Flagship, the U.S.S. Enterprise, but also for the smaller ships on various special assignments, like the U.S.S. Grissom.

Right now, J.T. Esteban sat in front of the monitor and knew that he looked just as concerned as Morrow on the other side of the channel. He noticed how the Admiral’s big moustache went up and down under his nose as he was leaning back in his chair, waiting for Morrow to tell him to turn away, to leave the dirty playground behind and fly back to Starbase 67 for a long, well deserved break. But he knew that was not going to happen.

“You know, Jonathan,” the Admiral began, “as much as I’d like to cancel your assignment with no regrets, I can’t. Exploring the Genesis planet is your mission, and you’re on silent running, not even supposed to be anywhere near the region you are. Grand Admiral Turner insists that you’re to proceed by all means.”

“You mean, at all costs,” replied Esteban, and the bitterness in his voice was all too obvious. “Murphy’s the fifth dead crew member in sixteen days. We’ve also been diverted, attacked, and put into quarantine. Apart from that, I have four dead Tholians and two Romulans in my stasis chambers, and we have a murderer aboard who appears to have travelled unnoticed with us all this time. So what am I to do in this situation?”

Morrow took a deep breath. “I know what you’re going through, Jonathan.”

“You don’t,” said Esteban. “Do you have any idea how low the morale onboard has become? Everyone’s afraid, upset. It’s burning this crew out, even my senior officers are beginning to fight amongst themselves. Whoever this killer is, he’s struck three times now, and it could happen again any time.”

“Personally, I feel guilty for it,” responded Morrow, “because I sent you there.”

“Wrong – Grand Admiral Turner sent us out here.”

“But it was I who assigned you, Jonathan. I wish I could do something about your situation… I just don’t see how.”

Esteban nodded. “I’m not holding you responsible for this, Admiral. But as I am responsible for my crew, it’s a goddamn burden to be slapped in the face again and again, and to be told just to take care of it on my own.”

“Jonathan, you must understand this. Starfleet Headquarters has their own problems right now. Our outposts report that Klingons are crossing the Neutral Zone every single day, and the news channels have nothing good to tell the people.

Ambassador Sarek returned from Vulcan yesterday to meet Admiral Kirk. With the Enterprise due back at Spacedock soon, everyone is spreading rumours and is anxious for information about Captain Spock’s death, and especially: on what business the Enterprise was during that incident. Do you know how hard it is to keep the Genesis Project out of the public view?”

“I can imagine – just like the problem I have with my crew, who are not even allowed to make calls or send messages to their families.”

“I know,” said Morrow. “But there’s more. Starfleet Headquarters might have its own little saboteur.”

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Esteban leaned forward, because that was now something he had already heard before, but not from Harry Morrow himself.

“It’s puzzling,” the Admiral continued, “Admiral Alexander McKnight and Captain Pierce from the Hathaway approached me some days ago and presented some data. Tracked signals of secure subspace calls which McKnight was able to catch via Starbase 67, and which Pierce identified to have been transmitted directly to Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco… from Cinera Base.”

“Terlis?” said Esteban.

“Obviously,” replied Morrow. “But they’re proof that over a long period of time, this Deltan maniac must have been in contact with someone from Starfleet directly, and may have worked under orders.”

“Under orders!? From whom?” asked Esteban, but Morrow laughed grimly.

“If we knew that, we wouldn’t be talking about it right now. McKnight dared to come to me right after Cinera Base’s destruction was reported.”

“But wasn’t Cinera destroyed by a Romulan Warbird?”

“Exactly,” said Esteban. “And this, Jonathan, is the rub. We are neither at peace nor war with the Romulans, but we know their government, and even the T’al Shiar, wouldn’t engage in the current conflicts between the Federation and the Klingons. They decided to stand back completely.”

“Which means?”

“Which means, regardless of the question whether it was an official or outlawed Romulan move, the destruction of Cinera Base after your men eliminated Terlis must have been executed on someone’s orders from right here, which leads me to the conclusion that there must be not only a link between Starfleet and Terlis, but also a link to the Romulan Empire.”

“Unbelievable!” said Esteban and shook his head. “What does Grand Admiral Turner have to say about all this?”

Morrow hesitated. “I haven’t told him yet. Frankly, Jonathan, I first wanted to hear your opinion first.”

Esteban laughed. “To be honest, I don’t have one.”

“But you do have two dead Romulans on board.”

Silence.

Esteban did not know what to think. “At least one of them was clearly after the Genesis data,” he finally said. “But we never found any device he could have downloaded it to.”

“Aha,” replied Morrow. “And who did you say was the one to find that particular Romulan dead in your computer core?”

“Nurse Murphy”, Esteban answered.

“—who has now suddenly been killed!” concluded Morrow. “What a coincidence… isn’t it?”

Esteban took a deep breath. “I don’t understand. Murphy was an honest man, no traitor. He’s been on board for almost two years, how can he be a spy or saboteur?”

“He probably wasn’t,” said Morrow. “But didn’t you report that he was actually led to that Romulan body by a mysterious unidentified Cadet? So if the Cadet was really the murderer you’re looking for, why would he have approached Murphy in the first place? Only to kill him off later?”

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Esteban now sat straight in his chair. He suddenly knew where Morrow was going, but he still couldn’t believe it. “Are you implying, Admiral, that this Cadet and our saboteur, or killer, are two different people?”

Morrow did not answer him. Instead he nodded, and his face seemed to get longer. His moustache looked like it was slowly sinking down on his lips.

“I won’t say forget this Cadet, but you have to find the real traitor, Jonathan.

Do whatever is necessary, and assume that whoever he is, he might still be after data regarding the Genesis Project.”

“Acknowledged.”

“And Jonathan, never forget that this killer is not a stowaway, but one of your crew!”

“I will keep that in mind,” Esteban said in horror.

“Look before you leap, Captain. Don’t trust anyone. And most of all: watch your back.”

“Admiral, I –“ “Take all actions you can think of,” Morrow interrupted, as he leaned over to reach out for the button on his monitor to finish the call. “Needless to say, this whole conversation never took place. -- Morrow out.”

And the screen went blank.

Esteban did not move for a while. ‘One of my crew,’ he thought. ‘This killer, saboteur and data thief is in fact not that mysterious Cadet, but… one of us.’

Then he took a breath and pressed the intercom button. There was no time to lose.

“Esteban to Bridge, has Lieutenant Chattman arrived?”

“Aye, sir”, responded the voice of Petty Officer Jata from the Main Bridge.

“He’s waiting.”

Esteban rolled his eyes in a reflex, and adjusted his uniform.

“Fine!” he said drily. “Send him in.”

U.S.S. Grissom – Sickbay.

T

he lights in Sickbay were dimmed to support the fact that it was still five o’ clock in the morning. The door to Doctor S’Raazh’s small office was closed now, but Aabin could still see Lieutenant Childers through a little window, working at the desktop computer. All was quiet. The senior officers had left to meet up with Commander Ottair, and Lars Thorsen in particular, who had been kind enough to pick Aabin up at his quarters, had accompanied the young Deltan in the most consoling and calming way, only to leave him with a strange “Be strong”, which was still echoing in the young Deltan’s mind.

Aabin sat on a chair next to the wall and looked around. How well he had gotten to know every corner of this compartment; all the frequent beeps of the medical devices, the smell of disinfectants, the air conditioning’s eternal humming, the black leather on the bio-beds – since he was assigned to the U.S.S. Grissom at Starbase 67, he had spent more than half of his time onboard right here. Sickbay had become more familiar to him than any other part of the ship. The long process 14

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of recovering from the Tholian disruptor had left its traces just like the time he was put in quarantine after his encounter with the virus-infected Lieutenant Tamkivi, who had later fallen into a coma under his nose, and passed away.

He watched Dr. S’Raazh as she set up another hypo spray for him. The previous dose had already calmed him down, but she obviously wanted to be thorough.

“Don’t worry, Aabin,” she said. “This is just a vitamin mix to stabilize your chemical imbalances.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” he responded. “It is much appreciated.”

“May I ask if you have suffered similar panic attacks in the past? I couldn’t recall having seen you like this before.”

Aabin looked into the doctor’s tired eyes. “Because I haven’t,” he said.

“Then tell me about the medication you mentioned earlier. From my readings, you’re fit as a fiddle, so I’m not sure what you were referring to.”

Aabin handed her the empty tablets container which he still carried with him.

‘Sertraline Hydrochloride 200mg’ was written on it in Seán Murphy’s handwriting.

S’Raazh took a breath and was suddenly concerned.

“This is powerful stuff,” she said. “I didn’t know Murphy had put you on antidepressants.”

“They are good,” responded Aabin.

“Really!? Well, I take it there’s at least more to your medical file than I’m aware of. I’ll have to look it up and find a way for you to overcome this poison, which I personally think is not good for you at all.”

“No, doctor. In fact I want more of it.”

“What?”

“Permanently, if you can.”

S’Raazh looked into his grey eyes, and for a moment the young Deltan almost frightened her. For apparently, he seemed to know quite well what he just asked of her.

“Aabin,” she wondered, “what in the world is wrong with you?”

No answer. Instead he looked down, as if he was searching the floor for what to say. He closed his eyes for a moment, because he always knew the time would come where he had to come out to her with the truth. So with calm determined action, he lunged for her arm… and grabbed it with his flat hand.

“Aabin!!” S’Raazh said and tried to pull her arm away, but the Deltan’s grip was firm. In fact, he didn’t let go but looked her in the eyes.

“Do you know what I mean, doctor? Do you see what my problem is?”

S’Raazh hesitated. She knew well that her Andorian nature did not make her immune against Deltan pheromone powers. Of course she expected an impact, and although she had often imagined what it might actually be like, it was the first time that any Deltan had ever done something like this to her. In fact, the scientific researcher part of her embraced this moment a lot.

But something was missing.

“Do you feel me, doctor?” asked Aabin. “Do you feel anything at all?”

S’Raazh still hesitated.

“No,” she answered, admitting to herself that she was actually disappointed.

“I’m afraid I don’t feel anything.”

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“I know,” Aabin said. “It’s because there is nothing to feel anymore. It’s about my Deltan powers, doctor… they are gone!”

He let go and stood up abruptly. S’Raazh was startled. It was a surprise she would never have expected. How little she knew about him and his medical file.

Only two weeks ago, when she examined the influence of his immense pheromone transfer to Lieutenant Chattman, the readings had almost gone off the scale. But now there was… nothing?

Aabin took a breath. “Can I see him now?” he asked and looked towards the infirmary section where the sick-beds were located.

“Whom? Murphy?”

“Yes,” he said. “I believe he is dead… is he not?”

Knowing not to underestimate a Deltan’s emotional or cognitive intelligence, S’Raazh just nodded.

“I knew it from the moment I saw those security guards at the door. How did he die?” he asked and was already on the way.

“We don’t know,” she answered and followed him.

Aabin approached sick-bed number two, where Seán Murphy’s body was laid out but entirely covered with a huge, blue cloth. Next to him, S’Raazh halted and was unsure whether she should really grant the boy the look he obviously wanted to take.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“Yes. Show me.”

“You must be strong.”

“I just want to say goodbye to him,” he said.

S’Raazh removed the upper part of the cover. Aabin was immediately wracked with sobs. As much as he wanted what he asked for, this view was almost more than he could bare.

Then they both turned around as someone knocked at the wall behind them.

It was Lieutenant Childers.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said slowly. “I just wanted to tell you, I made backups of Murphy’s files so I can look through them from my quarters. Right now I just need a nap or I’ll fall off that chair. Regardless of the medical things I don’t understand, I’ll try to see if I can spot something – anything – unusual, or a pattern, whatever. I’ll also go through his logs and will update you continuously.”

“Yes, Childers, do what you think is right. We could all use some sleep.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

With a nod in Aabin’s direction, and relieved he did not have to ask twice for some rest, Childers exited. S’Raazh turned to the Deltan again and put the cover back over Seán Murphy’s head.

Aabin now was a wreck, and in the infirmary’s light Vindi could now fully see how pale his face looked. His skin was as white as a sheet of paper. It was hard for her to see him like this, and as a lump was building up in her own throat, she could not help herself but to give him a hug.

He cried his heart out, and even Vindi’s eyes got wet. At the same time it was strange and bewildering to be in such direct bodily contact with this Deltan. Now that nothing of the overwhelmingly powerful pheromone effect was left, he appeared more human-like and vulnerable than ever.

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“I trusted him,” he winced. “He was my friend! I have spent so much time in here, he was the only one who knew! He promised he would find the cause for my loss and reverse it. Who for f***’s sake did this to him?”

“We’re all trying to find out,” she answered.

They remained still for a while until Aabin managed to retain his countenance, to breathe calmly and wipe his eyes. He could not believe he had just used one of those human swear words, although this one seemed like the only appropriate word for this horrible situation.

“I am sorry I let myself go… and I am sorry for the strong word I used.”

S’Raazh tried to smile. “I’m sure the great bird of the galaxy will forgive you.”

He managed a smile, too. Then he let go and became serious again.

“The murderer is still around, isn’t he?”

“We’re afraid so.”

“I’m realizing how much this loss must mean to you as well, doctor.”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” she replied. “We all have to get through this together. I will give you the Sertraline pills you’re asking for. And I promise, Aabin, that whenever I can spare a minute or two, I’ll work to find out what affected you, and I’ll go through all of Murphy’s research.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, and suddenly his glassy eyes were again begging as he looked at her. “But don’t tell Christopher.”

U.S.S. Grissom – Bunkroom, Corridors and Bridge.

N

o one else was around in the ensigns’ bunkroom on Deck 3 at this time, so that Na’nnerd, the U.S.S. Grissom’s very own saboteur, killer, thief, traitor and impersonator extraordinaire, was able to enjoy being on his own for a while.

He could not have been more satisfied right now. The Klingons knew precisely why they referred to their Cameloid shape-shifting agent as ‘The Hand of God’.

For Na’nnerd’s greatest talent was to strike soundlessly, incalculably, and most of all: unnoticed.

He gave himself a look in the bathroom mirror and smiled broadly, although it was not his own appearance he saw there, but that of the female ensign, Rachel Wood. He laughed to himself. ‘The man who walked around in the guise of a woman,’ he thought, and grabbed Wood’s lipstick to redden his false lips. Well, it could have been worse. It was better to impersonate her than any of those other apes.

For indeed they were foolish. Killing off Murphy for example was not only a pleasure but a must. Ensign Rachel Wood turned out to be the only crewmember aboard who had still not been to any physical examination, and sooner or later that nurse guy would have become suspicious. It was a logical move to get rid of him.

But there was, of course, even more to Na’nnerd’s visit in Sickbay; it was his only opportunity to erase all evidence of his recent work sessions. For as busy as Murphy and that Andorian witch S’Raazh had been after that silly Lieutenant Tamkivi – may she rest in pieces – was found infected by a certain, completely artificial virus, they never really put two and two together that this particular virus 17

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was manufactured right there in their own Sickbay, by Na’nnerd himself, using their own bio agents, chemicals and devices.

Although his plan did not fully work out as intended, he was still fond of his efforts in molecular biology. All the precious time he had waited for that Deltan homo wimp Aabin to recover from the Tholian attack and to be released from the infirmary, so that Sickbay was deserted at night, had been well worth the waiting.

And now they were all running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off, searching for Murphy’s killer. ‘Let them search until they rot,’ he thought.

‘Stupid humans.’ He had more important things to think about. If he could only find a way to decode and transmit the Genesis data he stole from the Romulan called Ash… Of course, Lady M’Pursong must already be awaiting it eagerly.

“We must be patient,” he said aloud. “Opportunity will knock soon enough.”

A bark from outside the quarters announced Wood’s roommate Kara McLaughlin and Muggle, the dog. Na’nnerd’s smile faded immediately. Of course the witch doctor would now let her favourite country girl look after that pestilence of a pooch even more often. Having Muggle around was absolutely nothing for him to look forward to.

The doors opened and the dog stormed in, barking wildly at Rachel Wood.

“Muggle!” shouted McLaughlin. “What’s wrong with you again? Calm down!”

But he wouldn’t listen. He jumped back and forth and bared his teeth menacingly.

“It’s okay, Kara. I don’t know why he doesn’t like me, but I’ll probably take a walk and be gone for a while.”

“I’m sorry, Rachel,” said Kara. “Doctor S’Raazh called me at Engineering and asked if I could take care of him until further notice. He will stay with us now all the time. And you should have seen S’Raazh, she’s in such a terrible condition.”

“All the time, you said? Well…”, replied Na’nnerd/Wood. “I can imagine how difficult it must be for her right now.”

“So you have heard the news then?”

“Heard… what exactly?”

“About Murphy. He was killed last night.”

“Oh, THAT. Well, err… yes, err… I met Casas earlier and he told me everything,” said Na’nnerd quickly, and Kara seemed to buy it. To his relief at that moment the comm signal buzzed.

“Bridge to Ensign Wood,” came the voice of Petty Officer Jata through the speakers.

Wood walked over to respond.

“Wood here. What’s up, Bacardi?”

“The Captain wants to see you,” he said. “And please, Rachel – my name is still Bacari.”

“Oh, is it? As in ‘bakery’?” she laughed and looked at Kara, who just shook her head, because whatever Wood was up to, it was clearly not funny.

“Rachel…” she said disturbed, and Muggle barked to his unease as well.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m sorry, Java, I’ll be there in a minute,” Na’nnerd said, letting the comm button go, and looked in disgust at the barking dog.

“JUST! SHUT! UP!” And to his own and Kara’s surprise, Muggle went silent and sat down irritated.

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“See? You just have to shout back at this mutt.”

Kara was perplexed. “You know, Rachel, I really thought I’d come to know you, but sometimes you just manage to scare me off.”

“Do I?” asked Na’nnerd and smiled. “Well, I take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant as one.”

“Sorry then… Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to report to the Captain.”

“Sure you have,” said Kara and watched the other one leave.

As the doors closed, she bent down and ran her hand over Muggle’s fur.

“Why don’t you like her?” she asked, but the dog just looked up like a begging child, still a bit frightened.

“Well, never mind. I don’t like her either… At least I’m not sure anymore.”

Na’nnerd walked through the deck’s corridor towards the turbolift. Or better: he pranced. Who would have guessed that killing Murphy would cause such a delightful, refreshing mood? Not even that dog Muggle was able to destroy this great feeling right now. ‘I might have to kill off the pooch as well,’ he thought and pressed the lift’s call button.

Only seconds later the doors opened, and out stepped no one else but Lieutenant Juan Casas. Of all the crew, why did it have to be him right now? In Na’nnerd’s opinion, that Spanish gorilla belonged in a zoo. Or maybe in a circus?

“Rachel!” he said, and smiled. “Good to see you.”

“Hey, handsome,” Na’nnerd replied and smiled back. “What are you up to?”

“I’m on a mission actually. Thorsen and I are about to do interrogations. I’ve done twelve so far and it’s really unpleasant.”

Na’nnerd nodded. “I’ve heard what happened to Murphy. Right now I’m on my way to the Captain.”

Casas’s eyes widened. “Seriously? So did you see anything last night?”

“Err.. no. The Captain just asked for my presence, and Kara is petting the dog again in our quarters, so I thought I’d better be gone if you know what I mean.”

“Sure,” Casas replied. “Well, since you’re not available right now, I think Thorsen will want to ask you some questions about last night, too, when you arrive.”

Na’nnerd smiled again, not afraid of another lie. “He already has.”

“Really?” wondered Casas. “I thought he was doing the lower decks first, beginning with Engineering.”

“Oh.. he.. I was actually one of the first he asked. How else would I have known about that ugly murder in Sickbay?”

“Ah, I see. Well, that’s good, very good indeed! Then I can scratch you from my list.”

“Oh yes!” Na’nnerd confirmed. “You better do that.”

He got his tricorder out, went through some names, and with a short beep, Rachel Wood’s name was simply marked off. “What do you make of it anyway? I mean the possibility that there’s someone on board who doesn’t belong here?”

Na’nnerd gave him a brief lascivious kiss. “All I can see right now is someone with a huge… responsibility, and who does belong here. You and me have to catch up soon, don’t you think?”

Casas grinned broadly. “Absolutely.”

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“Fine,” Na’nnerd said and let go. “I’ll give you a call. For now I’m off, or Esteban will be mad with me.”

“It’s still Captain Esteban, my love.”

“Captain Esteban,” Na’nnerd corrected himself. “See ya.”

And with a cute wink, he escaped into the turbolift, the doors closing. ‘Pah,’ he thought, ‘how could I ever kiss that primate!’ But after all, they are not as stupid as he thought. ‘Someone on board who doesn’t belong here’ – that wasn’t bad at all.

So it was even more important that he played his role of the young ensign girl carefully, and even more to perfection.

He had not even fully entered the Bridge when Lars Thorsen approached him from one of the side consoles. At the same time, Bacari Jata turned around from his station, giving him a look which revealed he was still not amused about their recent comm chat. ‘Am I bothered, coffee boy?’ thought Na’nnerd but remained silent.

“Ensign Wood!” said Thorsen at that moment and stood already in front of him.

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” Na’nnerd responded and continued to walk directly to the Ready Room. “Captain Esteban called for me.”

“I know,” nodded Thorsen. “But I thought I could ask you some quick questions first?”

Na’nnerd stopped, turned to him and smiled. “Well, Lieutenant, I just met with Mr. Casas. He already interviewed me. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can help you guys with.”

“Oh, err… well, then I can mark you off my list. Thank you, Ensign.”

“You’re welcome, Lieutenant. Any time.”

Na’nnerd continued to the Captain’s Ready Room, and behind him he could hear the same tricorder beep he heard when Casas had scratched his name from his own list. This bunch of mutants was indeed still as dumb as he had hoped.

‘Monkeys,’ he thought again, as he pressed the door’s call button with pleasure, and got an “Enter” from within.

This day was just getting better and better.

U.S.S. Grissom – Captain’s Ready Room.

T

hank you for coming, Ensign.” said Esteban as Na’nnerd – or Rachel Wood in the eyes of the attendants – entered the Ready Room. Commander Ottair and Lieutenant Chattman were there as well, and their faces, for once, looked just as wrinkled and concerned as the Captain’s. “Please take a seat.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Esteban nodded. “I’m ordering you not to mention, imply or even remotely discuss anything which is said in this meeting.”

“Understood.”

“Because we’re here to find a way to ensure that whoever attempts to kill or do any harm to a member of my crew again, will be localised, identified, and caught.”

“I see.”

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“And to enable us to catch the person who appears to have killed not only Murphy, but no less than four Tholians and a Romulan here on board, we’ve just been discussing options.”

Christopher Chattman looked at Wood and noticed that her eyes narrowed for a moment at the mention of the other deaths, but he could have been wrong. As the Captain raised his hand towards him, he knew it was his turn now to say something, so he cleared his throat.

“Well, first and foremost,” he began, “I know the inventory of this ship inside out. I mean, I used to be the Communications Officer for quite a while, until—“ “Get to the point, Lieutenant…” advised Commander Ottair.

“Okay. We don’t have much stuff we can use. The only thing we can do is to take a look at all quarters equipped with more than one computer console, and take out what we need from them.”

“Do you know how many consoles and multifunctional workstations we have in total?” asked Esteban.

“Two hundred ninety-four consoles with multi-media devices and seventy-eight comm panels with optional video access, sir.”

“That makes roughly three consoles per crew member,” said Ottair. “We can easily take out stuff from more than a hundred of them.”

Wood shifted in her chair. “Sorry, ma’am. Chattman? What exactly are we talking about?”

“Cameras,” said Esteban.

“CCTV installation,” specified Chattman. “I had the same idea as Commander Ottair, but the problem with the console cams is that they don’t produce a high def resolution, so the picture gets kinda blurry with anything further away than seven meters. Also, this ship has almost a kilometer of corridors, and more than 40 compartments to deal with.”

Esteban looked sternly at him. “I need options, Lieutenant, not concerns.”

All of them – including Wood – looked at him. Ottair encouraged him with a smile, and Chattman continued nervously. “I’d say we just have to try. However, for those difficult corners and wide-angle shots needed, there might be another way.”

“Which is?” asked Ottair.

Chattman looked warily at Wood, then at the Captain.

“Just speak your mind, Chattman,” said Esteban.

“Okay… I’m thinking about the cameras from the Genesis probes.”

Ottair gasped. Esteban took a deep breath and leaned back.

Rachel Wood turned to Chattman, then to Esteban. “Genesis?” she asked innocently. “What is that?”

“Our final destination,” Ottair answered quickly. “You might have noticed that we have several scientists aboard for some reason?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Chattman wondered – there it was again, this quick action of Rachel Wood narrowing her eyes, almost smiling from within. Of course, had he been kept out of the loop himself for such a long journey, he would be absorbing every single bit of information of such a gigantic, extraordinary mission like the Genesis Project. He

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could be wrong again, but Wood did not look as if she was surprised in any way, but rather curious.

Esteban broached the subject. “To make it short, Ensign, we’re en route to explore a newly formed planet called Genesis, located in the Mutara sector and currently still some 35 light-years away. We hope to get there by the end of this week. You might have heard of it?”

“Actually not, sir.” answered Wood and was lucky none of them noticed that her face was clearly telling a completely different story this time.

“Well then,” said Esteban, “this is pretty much all you need to know for now.

Proceed, Mr. Chattman.”

Chattman nodded. “After the recent launch of Probe One, we still have 11 probes on board equipped with long and short range sensors, gyroscopes, accelerometers, hi-amp audio receivers as well as multiple-camera systems, containing a narrow angle camera for general capture, red and blue wide angle pictures for context, as well as 3-axis inertial measurement units, which are sets of two high resolution stereo cameras each, also called HRSC, which would be the ones I’d say could serve our purpose.”

Ottair raised an eyebrow. “But isn’t HRSC meant for pictures taken from orbit?”

“Yes, and if we place one right in this room, it would detect a single hair in the far edge over there. If we can separate the cameras from the stereo sets, we should still be able to get smashing 2-D results. That would make 22 cameras in total, if we can use them.”

“Phew,” said Ottair. “But as I see it, Dr. Saunders and Liebmann will never approve.”

“I agree,” added Esteban. “We can’t just take all their toys away. The planet may consist of various different environmental and climatic zones that we’re not supposed to discover blind-folded. Also, Admiral Morrow would never let us compromise our prime mission as such.”

“But if we can have at least eight of those camera sets…” pleaded Chattman.

“Make it four,” Ottair said, engaging in bargaining.

“Six then?”

Silence.

All looked at Esteban, who got up from his seat and walked over to the only window port in the room, staring into the nowhere as the stars passed by in streams, like snow flakes on a lonely night drive.

“Alright,” he finally said. “Six sets it is, which makes twelve single cameras.

But I don’t want to see them wasted in unreasonable places.”

“Or anyone’s bathrooms,” added Ottair.

“Spare me your fantasies, Stephanie,” replied Esteban, as he headed back for the desk, “and let’s set this in stone. Lieutenant Chattman, I would like to know if you are still up to leading a mission, and that Commander Ottair and I can trust you with a critical responsibility like this.”

A lump formed in Chattman’s throat, but he nodded immediately. “I promise I’ll not disappoint you… again.”

“Alright, Lieutenant. The mission is yours. What’s your plan?”

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“We need a third person, Childers maybe. Ensign Wood and I can’t do the installation completely on our own.”

“No problem.”

“Thank you. The operation itself should be performed during the ship’s night cycle. While the crew will notice we’re out taking most of their console cameras, it’s still not their business to know where they’re being installed. I believe we’ll need at least two nights to process about one hundred of them.”

“I can also volunteer,” said Ottair.

“Much appreciated. Childers will have to check functionalities and angles, and route the cams through secure channels to a dedicated monitoring station, maybe somewhere on Deck 3 in one of the bays, with a main console and independent hardware for storage of at least 72 hours per camera. A capable computer core has to be taken from one of the shuttles… the Chaffee maybe.”

“We cannot cannibalize one of the shuttles, too!” replied Esteban.

“You’re right, we can’t spare it,” responded Chattman. “But we have to.”

Esteban hesitated. “Ensign Wood? Any suggestions?”

Wood shifted in her chair again. “Well, none that I can think of. But aren’t all those efforts a bit exaggerated for localising just one person?”

“No, they aren’t,” answered Esteban, “because we think it’s not just one, but two people we’re looking for.”

Now it was Chattman’s turn to smile unexpectedly. For this time the look on Rachel Wood’s face was completely puzzled and clearly surprised.

“You believe we have two killers on board?” she asked.

“Well, one of them is a killer for sure. The other one maybe not. I believe Mr. Thorsen or Mr. Casas have interviewed you regarding last night’s events?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then you’ve seen the composite sketch of the tall, male Cadet we’re searching for?”

Wood cleared her throat. “Yes, naturally… that Cadet.”

Chattman thought that Wood looked as if she had no idea what the Captain was talking about, nor seen any such composite sketch. But again, he could be wrong.

“The person you saw in that picture is someone who does not belong to the crew,” Esteban continued, “yet he has been seen on board on several occasions. It almost seems that while the killer did his – or her – work on their own, it was that Cadet who led our officers to the victims, and talked to them in riddles. He seems able to appear and disappear in an instant, which makes our overall search even more difficult.”

“Wow.” “I’m sorry, Ensign. I can see on your face how uncomfortable you feel. But the same goes for us all. I’m assigning you to Chattman until further notice, and the two of you better get started immediately to go through crew quarters and collect as many video cameras as you can.”

“Yes, sir,” said Chattman, and they all rose from their seats.

“This meeting is adjourned.”

As they headed towards the door, Chattman stopped and turned around for a last time.

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“There is only one question,” he said and walked back a few steps. “Who’s gonna talk to the scientists about stripping the six HRSC camera sets from the Genesis probes?”

“I believe you can do that,” answered Esteban.

“But Captain, I think their response won’t be—“ “Alright, Chattman, I get it… I’ll take care of it.” Esteban took a deep breath and joined them at the door, where he gave Commander Ottair a worried look.

“Dirty business time, again.”

They all looked concerned and deep in thought as they re-entered the Bridge and walked to the turbolift.

But not all were equally worried. No one saw, but when the turbolift’s doors closed in front of Rachel Wood’s nose, there was a certain sparkle in her eyes.

Na’nnerd/Wood was certainly still puzzled about a second stranger being on board. But now, getting one step closer to information about Genesis and the scientists, and having both of Grissom’s comm officers, Chattman and Childers, at hand while he dealt with that encrypted Romulan memory pad, well, it was more than an encouraging thought.

Na’nnerd also had no doubt he would soon be able to get to see that damn composite sketch he almost stumbled over in front of the Captain, and would find that mysterious Cadet by himself – to silence him.

Oh yes, ‘The Hand of God’ would soon strike again.

U.S.S. Grissom – Science Lab.

T

his is outrageous!” shouted Dr. Liebmann and let the padd in his hand crash loudly on the table. “Of all the annoying things so far, this is the worst! I’m wondering who is behind this idiocy – Lieutenant Chattman, I presume?”

“Mind your words, doctor,” responded Captain Esteban. “This was my decision. We still have 11 probes on board, and as far as I’m concerned, you don’t need all of them to be equipped with HRSC systems.”

They all stood in a circle around a huge, flat console which looked strikingly similar to a billiard table with touch screens and monitors – Liebmann, Saunders, David Marcus, Saavik, Esteban, Wood and Chattman, the latter shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

“For once I believe Liebmann is right, Captain,” said Clive Saunders and looked around worried, and uncharacteristically unsure. “We need those cameras ourselves. What do you think, David?”

They all looked at David Marcus. He was the tallest of them all, and absently ran his fingers through his curly blond hair. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.

Saavik spoke instead. “I don’t believe much in photographic recordings. No camera can replace a full range sensor scan, not even data from a single tricorder.

While pictures can trick the eye, all the other readings combined would not.”

“So much for accurate historic documentation,” replied Liebmann, snappily and with disgust. “Here we are on the verge of showing the entire Federation something 24

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incredibly unique and extraordinary, and all we’re going to bring back is some sensor data.”

Saunders nodded. “If we find Genesis to be a success, people will want to see some pretty visuals, or the whole idea and its possibilities will not fully sink in and resonate with them.”

“I concur,” said Saavik. “Although I cannot see photographs showing more than trees, plants, hills, ice, or deserts. Nothing the average citizen hasn’t already seen before, elsewhere.”

“But that’s exactly why all photographic imagery of the Genesis miracle is so important,” responded Liebmann. “I believe the idea will be sensational for dying and suffering worlds who want to transform a nearby moon. Or settlers from Earth who’re already waiting to spread across the sector with even more colonies. Or even for habitable environments around some Starfleet outposts. If the Genesis planet is really what our young David Marcus is promising, then we have to take as many pictures as we can in order to promote the idea of ‘life from lifelessness’ to the entire Federation.”

David Marcus sighed. “How many cameras did you say?”

“Six stereo sets,” answered Chattman. “It would still leave you the other five to launch with the rest of the probes and let them do their jobs in orbit, as planned.”

Rachel Wood jumped in. “Also, if we can find Murphy’s murderer before we reach the planet, we’d have no further use for them and could easily install them back on the probes.”

All looked at the ensign.

“That,” replied Saavik in her typical stoic way, “would assume the killer on board will visibly strike again before we reach our destination, but that cannot be assumed.”

Esteban took a breath. “You’re right, Lieutenant Saavik. There’s a possibility that the more crew members – including our ‘killer’ – know about CCTV installation, the less likely it is that anything happens anytime soon, or at all.”

David gave Saavik an encouraging look and almost grinned. “We could just beam down there and take pictures with modified tricorders by ourselves. I mean, if the Federation wants pretty visuals, we should take them directly from the surface.”

“I object,” said Esteban. “No one knows if the climate on the planet will support a landing party. And even with plants and oxygen down there, pollen, spores and God knows what else could be floating through the air. As far as I’m concerned, none of you scientists will beam anywhere. I don’t want anything to go wrong.”

“But Captain—“ began David Marcus, only to be interrupted by Esteban again.

“Not until we know exactly what we’re talking about. This is not the time to discuss that stage of exploration, anyway.”

“Well,” mused Liebmann sarcastically, “I always said if my assumption is correct and Genesis is created from nothing but an ill mixture of proto-matter, it’s possible gravitational anomalies could wait for you down there, and you could get sucked into some kind of hyper-dimensional bubble… and be lost.”

“Not that you would mind, would you?” replied Saunders, noticing a nervous glance in David’s eyes at the mention of proto-matter. “And besides, hyper25

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dimensional physics are just the work of some fraud from the 20th century. A tale from hoax-land. If any of those wild theories were real, we wouldn’t worry about a terraforming project but rather we’d be inventing some sort of slip stream technology and go flying to Andromeda soon.”

“Are you sure of that?” asked Saavik and raised an eyebrow.

Esteban pouted, losing patience. “Gentlemen, please – this leads to nowhere.

Dr. Marcus, I take it you approve of our decision about the cameras?”

“Well… yeah… sure. Take them. It’s your equipment, anyway.”

Liebmann groaned. “I don’t believe this!”

“Shut up, Libby!” responded Saunders.

“Very well,” said Esteban, “I thank you and appreciate your support. I’ve got just one question since we’re at it: Why the hell are you still working in the laboratory at this time of the night?”

Marcus and Saunders looked at each other and smiled tiredly.

“Well, what time is it, anyway?” David asked.

“It’s 0600 in the morning,” consternated Saavik drily.

Saunders just spared a twinkle. “We went through all of Admiral Kirk’s extensive Genesis data tonight, which David and the Lieutenant brought with them from the U.S.S. Enterprise. We’ve had a hard time explaining some real science to Mr. Liebmann here.”

Na’nnerd/Rachel Wood’s eyes widened in awe at what he just heard. Extensive Genesis data from the Enterprise? From Admiral Kirk? And right here in the Science Lab? That was more than he could have hoped for! He had to find out more about it.

Much more.

Meanwhile, Esteban shook his head giving Wood and Chattman a nod to come with him. They exited quickly and disappeared in direction of the next turbolift, and the look on the Captain’s face made it all too clear that he had never understood, nor would he ever understand certain academic attitudes and behaviours. But while he was happy to have the case settled and make it out of the lab, the argument between the scientists went on inside, as Liebmann leaned threateningly forward to Saunders, showing how much he disapproved what had just been said.

“It is Doctor Liebmann to you,” he said. “I’m neither a Mister nor a Libby – not for you and not for anyone else. Is that clear?”

Saunders leaned in, too, until both men ended up facing each other, nose-tonose. “You can have it,” he answered and his eyes narrowed. “But if one thing’s for certain, it’s the fact that you, Libby, are no doctor at all.”

“I beg your pardon?” responded Liebmann.

“No doctor at all!” Saunders repeated and laughed coldly. “To me you’re nothing but the patient here. You’re just unable to comprehend.”

Earth – Bar in San Francisco. // U.S.S. Grissom – Childers’s Quarters.

T

he music was far too loud for anyone to hear their own voice. Whoever suggested the Galaxy Bar as a place to socialize and have a good 26

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conversation, must have been either some cheeky bastard or completely out of their mind. Brian Childers could not even recall the guy who recommended the place to him. Now he was here, and after compensating for the lack of knowing anyone with some alcohol, especially in the form of some dark Irish beer, it was less than an hour until he was quite drunk.

Things got worse when he decided to hit the dance floor with the rest of the crowd. He wasn’t able to stand straight anymore, and as he tried to move and spin his body to the funky rhythms of the music, he almost lost balance.

It was at that awkward moment that he stumbled over his own feet and would have fallen flat on the ground, if it hadn’t been for the shoulder, and arm, of some stranger who stood next to him, wearing – like most people in the bar – a Starfleet uniform.

“Ho-ho, Private, watch your steps,” the stranger said sharply but not unfriendly, and Childers looked into the face of a blond, short-haired officer, who seemed a bit worried about being pulled to the ground by his clumsy grip.

“I’m no private,” Childers responded boozily, while he tried to look as serious as possible. “I’m a civilian!”

“Excuse me,” replied the stranger and grabbed Childers under his arms to hold him upright. “But as you can see, most of the people who come here are Starfleet.

No offense intended.”

“None taken,” Childers slurred and saw that the officer was holding hands with… another man, someone in uniform, too. He shrugged his shoulders, but chuckled. “I bet you guys must really get lonely up there.”

He pointed to the ceiling, indicating ‘space’, which caused a smile to appear on both officers’ faces.

“Well, it can indeed be a lonely time if you’re Starfleet,” the blond one said, “but we don’t get drunk about it as easily as some ‘civilians’ might.”

Oh, that was a hint.

“How did you know?” Childers asked. “I’m basically incognito and can do what I want because nobody knows me. I could be anyone, everyone, or no one.”

He held up his hand to show the couple his wedding ring which he was still wearing.

“Well, but don’t fool yourself. Your wife would be disappointed to see you like this,” the guy next to the blond one said, causing Childers to narrow his eyes and disagree.

“No, she won’t,” he stated.

“Because she will never know?”

“Not exactly. She’s dead.”

The officers looked at each other. What a turn-off. The blond one let Childers go, who tried his best to stand straight on both feet and keep himself together.

“To tell the truth,” he continued, “Not only am I a widower, I also lost my job as well as my house, and not even my son gives a shit about me. The whole world is against me. I just tried to join your club today, but not even Starfleet seems to want me.”

“Sorry to hear that,” the blond officer said.

“Yeah, don’t be. Whatever. So I’ll remain a civilian, nothing more, nothing less. By the way, my name is Childers.”

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“Paul Hewson,” said the blond one, and they shook hands. ”And this is Mark Atkins, my partner.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Childers,” nodded Atkins and offered his hand, too.

Childers took it with hesitation. “Call me Brian,” he said. “And I’m sorry for bothering you birds. I mean, I guess I’m pretty—“ “—drunk?” finished Hewson.

“You could say that.”

“Where exactly at Starfleet did you apply? Were you here for a qualifying examination?”

“I don’t know, I mean, the Registration Office sent me an appointment, but I couldn’t make it in time to my actual interview. That’s where the fun began. So while I was in the area, I came here to arrange another appointment, but the guy at the Office said I’d have to wait until I’m actually called back, which could take up to three months.”

“Standard procedure,” Atkins said. “That’s Starfleet for you.”

“Go figure. But I think I shouldn’t have come at all. I mean, there were other guys running around there, some of them barely sixteen. I felt much too old,” Childers resigned and took a deep breath. “I need another drink.”

They walked to the bar, and despite Hewson shaking his head, Atkins leaned over to the waiter to get them all some more beers.

“You’re never too old to join Starfleet,” Atkins said as they toasted one another and drank. “I was twenty-six when I joined, and I thought I was the oldest cadet in history. But in fact, there are people much older joining, and I know at least two of them have become darn good officers.”

“Now I feel even older,” responded Childers and noticed the beer he was drinking might be just too much for tonight. Another sip and there was a chance of him passing out right there. “I’m thirty-three, and I think it was just a bad idea.”

“It depends on what you really want,” said Hewson. “If you’re seriously up for it, I can try and arrange another interview for you.”

“You can? But I’m leaving San Francisco tomorrow.”

“It’s up to you.”

“Well, I mean, that would be… amazing. I mean, my son’s gonna kill me anyway, since I already came here. He’s gonna freak out when he finds out.”

“How old is he?” asked Atkins.

“Thirteen.”

A third guy showed up behind them. He was just as blond as Hewson, but even though the bar’s lights were pretty dim, one could see his skin was almost paperwhite. He was more than a head taller than the others, and his face looked somehow familiar to Childers.

“Thor!” said Hewson and smiled as he turned around. “Well that’s odd, I was just thinking of you. Did everything go well?”

The tall guy wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Her name is Stephanie,” he said in an odd Scandinavian accent. “But I shouldn’t have approached her. I think I’m out of her league, and she seems to be like a man in a woman’s body – a full-blooded engineer.”

“Aww,” replied Hewson. “No chances then?”

“Not in a million years.”

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“Anyway, we were just talking Starfleet life with our new friend here,” said Mark Atkins amusedly pointing towards their civilian company. “Brian Childers, meet Mr. Dolph Lundgren.”

“Lars Thorsen!” corrected the giant, and groaned.

“Dolph Lundgren!” shouted Childers. “I knew it! I’ve seen you before, you’re that guy who fought—who was it? Rocky Balboa?”

“He’s had quite a few drinks,” explained Mark Atkins with a twinkle.

“I don’t know any ‘Rocky’, but thank you, I was the Swedish Olympian champion at the 100 meter sprint and the 100 meter hurdles.”

Childers felt the need to hold himself at the bar and suspected that he wouldn’t be able to keep himself together much longer.

“Anyway,” said Thorsen, “I think I’m calling it a night. Sorry, Paul.”

“Actually,” responded Hewson, “I was wondering if you can give our friend a lift to his hotel.”

“Sure. Where are you staying?”

“The Gate Inn,” answered Childers and looked at Atkins, then Hewson.

“Regarding that interview… were you serious about it?”

“Yes, I am. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Okay… You can reach me at my hotel at least till noon.”

“No problem,” said Hewson. “I’ll give you a call as soon as I have arranged something for you.”

“Cheers,” nodded Childers. “That’s really appreciated. I guess I have to get sober then. I’m already seeing everything double.”

“Time to go then,” said Atkins. “Can you walk on your own?”

Childers let go of the bar and felt as if everything was spinning around him. “I don’t know… guess not,” he said awkwardly.

“Okay then, Childers. Grab my arm,” Lars Thorsen offered.

Childers did so and laughed. “Wow, see that? I’m going to marry Dolph Lundgren!”

“Thorsen!” corrected Thor again.

“I can even see two of you,” Childers said. “Are you twins?”

Thorsen looked at his fellow officers and shook his head. “This way, please,” he said and led Childers to the nearest exit.

“Aye, sir Lundgren,” replied Childers and stumbled beside him.

“Thorsen!” corrected Thor, again.

“Thor Lundgren,” said Childers. “And you really don’t know Rocky Balboa?”

“No.” “That’s a shame, because you guys rocked the ring! Danny boy loved it.”

“Who’s Danny boy?”

“My son. He’ll hate me even more when I tell him that I’ve met you.”

“I am not Dolph Lundgren.”

“Yeah, maybe not… Are you sure? … What was your name again?”

Childers woke up.

There he was again, in his quarters on the U.S.S. Grissom. All was quiet as he sat up and rubbed his face. What the hell was this all about? Why did he dream all

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these embarrassing things? And didn’t he just hear the door buzzer? He felt his dry mouth and the need to get some water.

Buzz—buzz.

So it was indeed the doors. He looked at the clock at his bed, it was exactly 0800 hours. “Enter,” he said and wiped through his hair.

The doors opened and in walked… Thorsen! Now that seemed like more than a mere coincidence.

“Thor! What are you doing here? I guess I overslept?”

“Yes,” said Thorsen, “but that’s not why I’m here. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Childers answered. “I just had the strangest dream, and don’t freak out, but you were in it, too.”

Thorsen chuckled. “For good or for bad?”

“Neither nor. It wasn’t really a dream, anyway. We were actually in that bar again where we first met.”

“The ‘Galaxy’ in San Francisco? Now that is unusual.”

“As I said,” Childers responded. “Water?”

“Please,” said Thorsen and sat down on the quarters’ sofa.

Childers grabbed two glasses and filled them in the bathroom, causing a strange look from Thorsen as he handed one of them to him. Then he sat down in an armchair next to the sofa, not bothering that he was still late for duty and facing Thorsen only in T-shirt and shorts.

“Man, I was so drunk that night but I remember it as if it were yesterday.”

“It was the day before you joined Starfleet, right?”

“Yeah… I dreamed it all again.”

Thorsen drank up his water. “You look tired.”

“What do you expect after two hours of sleep? And I still have to go through loads and loads of Murphy’s logs. It’s a nightmare.”

“It’s no fun for any of us,” responded Thor.

“Yeah... Sometimes I wonder, when did this whole journey become so bloody messed up? You know, Hewson was also in that dream. At least, if it was a dream at all.”

“I think a lot about him, too… and of Mark.”

“Yeah, Mark Atkins. He was there as well. And I had that same uncomfortable feeling again in my stomach, deciding whether or not I should take my application for Starfleet seriously, and how Danny would react when told him.”

“How did he react?”

Childers didn’t answer directly. He looked down at his feet and the carpet, and took a deep breath. In his mind, he could hear his son so clearly that it almost hurt his ears again, as it did all those thousands of times he had to think about these three words he would never be able to forget: “I hate you!”

He finally looked at Thorsen. “Maybe I should see a Counsellor once we’re back in Federation space and on leave. I don’t know how to say it. You know, it might sound completely bonkers, but actually… it’s not the first time I’ve had

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dreams like this. I feel like something’s haunting me down for some reason, but I don’t know what it is.”

Thorsen sat up straight. “Is it the same dream over and over?”

“Not really. More as if my life was rolling before my eyes like a film. It all began two days ago, and it hasn’t let up since.”

They sat silent for a moment. Thorsen had never been really close to Childers, but they knew and accepted each other for what they were, regardless of some edges or shady spots they had always been aware of. From Thorsen’s point of view, he had never seen Childers really happy or relaxed. Truth be told, Thorsen knew that he saw a lot of things in Childers’s eyes that reminded him of himself.

Such as their ability to build a fortress of walls around themselves in order to block out personal feelings. Or their tendency to make a joke when it was the least appropriate moment for anyone to laugh.

They also shared a dry sense of humour, and they were always trying hard to be witty and clever. And yet, they often behaved as if something was holding them back from all the private, personal stuff lurking within. They were Starfleet officers and had been on subspace missions for several years now – always on duty, always in uniform. It meant a lot, and there was an obvious price that came with leading a life such as this. It was just a little thing, but Thorsen noticed only now seeing Brian Childers sitting over there in shorts, unshaved and with bed-prints on his face. It was a first. And so was his openness in confiding in him about his ‘dreams’.

Lars Thorsen raised an eyebrow – he couldn’t even recall the last time he had dreamt himself.

“How old is Danny now?” he asked.

“Almost nineteen. The last thing I heard was that he had qualified for the Olympics. It’s such a shame that we’re on silent running. I so wish I could see him right now, regardless if he wins a medal or not.”

“I know what you mean,” nodded Thorsen. “I’m too much of a fitness addict myself.”

Childers sighed. “I hope this Genesis mission will be over soon.”

Thorsen stared at him surprised. “How do you know about it?”

“I’m the Comm Officer, or did you forget? And I’m no fool, at least I try not to be one,” Childers added and stood up, stretching his arms and chest. “Anyway, time for me to hit the shower.”

“Of course,” said Thorsen, switching on the tricorder he had held in his hand the whole time he was sitting there. “And I won’t keep you for long, but you can probably guess why I came to visit you in the first place?”

“Debriefing?”

“Bingo. I’ll make it short and reduce it to the core questions.”

Childers sat down in the armchair again, looking at Thorsen. “Well, go on. But you know, I don’t have an alibi for last night,” he said.

Thorsen nodded. “I expected to hear that. To be honest, not many of the crew have, except for Bridge and Engineering staff. It’s all quite frustrating.”

“I see… But well, I was here in my quarters, sleeping.”

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Thorsen pressed some buttons, and the beeps sounded to Childers like he was doing a multiple choice test where you click one or two out of several possible answers.

“Did you hear anything outside your quarters?” Thorsen continued. “Sounds, noises? Did you wake up at any time?”

“Not until you called me to report to Sickbay,” Childers answered, and another couple of beeps came from the tricorder as Thorsen worked it.

“Okay,” Thorsen said and leaned forward, now turning the tricorder in Childers’s direction so that he could see the display. “There is one other thing I have to ask: Have you seen this person before, or someone who looks similar to him?”

Childers took a look. A typical composite sketch appeared on the screen, showing the face of a young man between age twenty and twenty-five years old, who was obviously fit and, even to Childers, one of the most handsome men he had ever seen in his life. His hair was cut short and light brown, he had slim lips but a fair nose, and his big green eyes were framed by even eyebrows above and gentle cheekbones below. Tiny ears and a small round chin with a dimple in the center completed an appearance which made him memorable. He looked like Prince Charming, posing in the typical orange uniform of a Starfleet Cadet.

“Is that the killer you’re looking for?” Childers asked in disbelief.

“We don’t know,” answered Thorsen. “At least, we hope not.”

“Where did you get that picture?”

“Casas made it with Ottair’s help. Do you know this guy?”

Childers looked at Thorsen. “Well, I don’t exactly know him, but I can say for sure that I do have seen his face before.”

“Really!?” Thorsen asked in awe. “All we know is that he revealed himself to several crewmembers aboard, including Murphy.”

“Strange, if he’s been seen here on the Grissom,” responded Childers. “Because I know exactly where I have seen him… and it wasn’t on this ship!”

“What!?”

“And that’s not all – if my memory doesn’t trick me, Captain Esteban must have seen him, too.”

“That’s unbelievable!”

“And you, Thor. As far as I can recall, you were standing almost next to him, at one point.”

Thorsen’s eyes widened as his heart made a sudden skip. Childers stood up hastily, grabbed his trousers, shoes and uniform top.

“Tell me!” shouted Thorsen and raised a hand. “Where was it? We must know!”

While almost magically dressing in about ten seconds time, Childers smiled at him, and for a brief moment he enjoyed this puzzled expression on Thorsen’s face.

“Join me on the Bridge, we should have it all filed and stored. You’ll be surprised, but I think it’s all right there!”

“Then I better call the Captain as well,” said Thorsen and walked over to the comm unit.

“Oh, not just the Captain, Thor… call the Senior Staff, too. All of them!”

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U.S.S. Grissom – Bridge.

T

he S.S. Arcadia!?” Captain Esteban asked in disbelief. The turbolift’s doors opened and closed every minute, bringing the senior staff to the Bridge.

Soon they were all there: Ottair, Sato, Casas, Thorsen, Childers, Chattman, even Doctor S’Raazh and Lieutenant Saavik attended.

“The Arcadia indeed,” said Childers and skimmed through a video of the S.S. Arcadia’s dining hall, a recording made by one of Lars Thorsen’s team members when they’d freed the ship’s captain Ri’tarxx from the Ch’ramaki. “There,” Childers added, “I think I have it.”

All watched the onscreen recording of Lieutenant Thorsen as he approached Ch’ai, the young leader of the Ch’ramaki, as he attempted the takeover of the S.S. Arcadia in order to force the Federation to take them back to their home planet, even if it would drive the Federation into a war.

“Stop!” Ch’ai shouted through the dining hall as Thorsen walked toward him.

“You may have stunned my colleagues, but not me. Stay where you are! Stay or… or I will shoot Captain Ri’tarxx!”

“We are not your enemy,” they heard Thorsen respond. “Before you shoot, my team will have felled you.”

“But not before the Captain dies.” Ch’ai replied.

“Hold!” shouted Casas. “See that guy in the middle, right next to Ri’tarxx?

That’s him!”

Childers froze the picture on the main viewscreen. Lars Thorsen looked as if he could not believe his eyes. Esteban took a few steps forward, then turned around to Childers.

“Can you magnify this section?” he pointed to the right third of the screen.

“I think so,” answered Childers and did it momentarily. “But the picture could get a bit blurry.”

It did not. In fact, even when Childers captured the face of the young man standing next to Ri’tarxx in the best possible close-up position, the quality was still quite crisp, and the face they now stared at was a revelation, especially for Lieutenant Thorsen and Captain Esteban.

“I did not notice this guy before,” Thorsen admitted. “These were all civilians on a cruise ship, we did our jobs hardly speaking to them, except for some apologies for the inconveniences they had to go through. No one was harmed, luckily.”

“That’s right, we left it to Ri’tarxx to deal with his passengers and left as soon as we could.” Esteban walked to his chair and pressed the Comm button. “Bridge to Engineering. Cadet McLaughlin, please.”

“McLaughlin here,” came the voice of the young Irish cadet through the speakers.

“Cadet, I want you to go and check all our transporter logs between Stardates 8150 and 8178, especially the ones of crew members beaming back from the S.S. Arcadia. I want a full report on who left and entered the ship during and after the incident.”

“Aye, sir.”

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Esteban turned to Ottair. “This is worrying me. To tell the truth, I did notice that passenger as he didn’t leave Ri’tarxx’s side, but then again, he was irrelevant at that time, and I forgot about him.”

“I will assist McLaughlin, if I may,” Ottair replied and exited with a nod from the Captain.

The other officers stood there and no one said a word. For a moment, one could hear a pin drop, and it was again Esteban who spoke again. “Does anyone remember seeing this guy on our ship? Think! I cannot believe he got here unnoticed. He must have come over with your team, Thorsen.”

Lars Thorsen shook his head. “I had four men with me, and they all came back with me. I would have noticed.”

“Let’s hope the transporter logs indicate the same,” Esteban said snidely. “If not, then I suggest you have a problem, Thor.”

All officers looked shocked and exchanged glances.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Thorsen as the Captain stepped forward until their chests almost touched. Something in Esteban’s eyes had changed, and everyone could spot a wild obsession inside him, as if he was suddenly not himself anymore.

“I’ve had enough of your arrogant self-confidence,” he said with a rising voice.

“I have enough of listening to your far-fetched assumptions, acting as if you are the chief everywhere, even when you’re not. You’ve changed a lot since Hewson died, but not to the better.”

“Captain!” said Lieutenant Saavik and looked as disgusted as a Vulcan can look without changing any facial expression. “I don’t think that this is warranted.”

But Esteban was unstoppable. “I’ve trusted you more than Lieutenant Casas, who was new to the ship, and I thought I might grant him some time to warm to his new assignment and get to know us a bit. But I see now that I was terribly wrong.”

“Captain, please!” chimed in Doctor S’Raazh.

“You let this intruder on our ship, and although he might still not be the murderer we’re looking for, he’s a damn stowaway and he slipped through your net. If there ever was one! I think you’re just a reckless, careless…“ “Jonathan!!” S’Raazh shouted. “That’s enough!!”

“To hell with you… and all those banters with Casas about which of you two is the better one… You know, if you think you’re a superior man, then I assure you I can change that! I can demote you, just as I demoted Mr. Chattman!!”

He raised his arm, pointing his finger towards the young fellow who once used to be a Lieutenant Commander, the ship’s Communications Officer, and someone with a Bridge assignment.

Silence.

They all watched in disbelief, as they had never seen their Captain completely lose his temper like this. Esteban’s eyes still glowed and he breathed heavily, just as the comm buzzer’s long beep interrupted the excruciatingly awkward moment.

“Ottair to Bridge,” they heard the commander’s voice. “Captain, we checked all transporter logs for the relevant time-frames, but the only people beaming back aboard from the S.S. Arcadia after the incident were you, Lieutenant Thorsen, and the four team members Coffman, Slagenweit, Pike, and Mr. Wich.”

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Esteban still looked at Thorsen, but stepped backwards and nodded. Thorsen spotted S’Raazh shaking her head in amazement at Esteban’s outburst. Then the Captain went back to his command chair and pressed the comm button.

“Thank you, Stephanie,” he said, and quickly moved to the side-door to his Ready Room. He looked at all his officers, then toward Rebecca Sato who sat at the helm. “I’ll be in my room… you’re all dismissed. Lieutenant Sato, you have the Bridge.”

The doors closed behind him.

S’Raazh sighed. “Well, I’d better get back down to Sickbay,” she said.

“And I need to get back to Deck 4. Ensign Wood is already waiting for me there,” Christopher Chattman added.

“I’ll join you, Lieutenant,” said Casas, and within seconds they all disappeared in the turbolift.

All was quiet again on the Bridge. Lieutenant Thorsen stood alone in the middle, still looking frozen, stunned and shocked at his encounter. He slowly turned around and caught the eye of Childers, who sat awkwardly at his Comm Station, unsure of what to say.

Thor addressed him quietly. “If my presence is required anywhere, which I doubt, you can find me in my quarters,” he said, and was at the turbolift.

“I’m sorry, Thor,” Childers eventually got out of his mouth as the turbolift opened, but Thorsen did not look back again, and exited the Bridge.

Only the frequent beeps from the Helm and Ops stations were heard. Childers decided to transfer Nurse Murphy’s logs to his station, and began to read them.

“Esteban to Bridge,” came the Captain’s voice through the speakers, much calmer now than before.

Childers pressed the button. “Bridge here.”

“Establish contact with the S.S. Arcadia, Mr. Childers, and get me Captain Ri’tarxx on a secure channel.”

U.S.S. Grissom – Ready Room.

T

he reptilian Captain Ri’tarxx made a huge nod on the monitor, and as always he had to look at J.T. Esteban slightly from the side, his reptilian eyes unable to see directly forward, and unable to blink.

“Captain Esteban,” he spoke with his reptilian voice. “What a pleasure to hear from you again. I did not expect to talk to you so soon.”

“Greetings, Ri’tarxx. Some circumstances over here required me to get in contact with you again.”

“I hope it does not have to do with the Ch’ramaki?”

“No, Ri’tarxx, it doesn’t. I want to show you something instead, and I would like to know if you could tell us what exactly we’re talking about – or who.”

He pressed a button, and the close-up of the mysterious stranger, which Childers took from the video footage earlier, appeared on the monitor.

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“This person was captured on video by one of my men in the Arcadia’s dining hall. Do you know this man?”

Ri’tarxx’s mouth opened. His face came closer, then he seemed to take a step back again.

“Now this is an unexpected coincidence. Maybe it’s not a coincidence at all. I know this man, or I should better say: I don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Esteban asked.

“He sat at my dining table that night. I did not know who he was, nor had I ever seen him before. But that is not unusual since we are a cruise ship and I cannot know the names and faces of all our passengers.”

“He sat at your table?”

“Indeed. And the strange thing about him was that he talked as if he were someone from another time period. Even in the way he dressed and spoke.”

“From another time period? I’m not sure I follow you.”

“Captain Esteban, he talked about the U.S.S. Grissom as if you were something from history: an event from the past. And that something about you was ‘most unfortunate’.”

“He was being cryptic, you mean?”

“You could say that, Captain.”

“Do you know what happened to this mysterious fellow after the Ch’ramaki incident?”

“I never did see him again, but since we have been docked at Starbase 67 for almost a week now, he must have disembarked here.”

“I’m afraid not, Ri’tarxx. I’m afraid your ‘passenger’ is now on board the Grissom. He’s been seen on several occasions.”

“But that’s not possible. No one from the Arcadia beamed over to your ship, neither before nor after the Ch’ramaki incident.”

“We've established that as well, as we didn’t find anything in our transporter logs. And yet, he is here.”

Ri’tarxx shook his head. “This is a riddle I cannot solve.”

“Perhaps not,” Esteban replied, “but maybe you can still be of help. Do you have any additional footage of the dining hall from that night? Was anything that happened recorded with your own equipment?”

Ri’tarxx nodded. “Actually, I did watch parts of it over and over. We had the whole incident, even the time before it, recorded from two different angles. Do you want to take a look into those files?”

“That would be very helpful. Can you transfer them to us?”

“I have them here on my desktop.”

“Good. I thank you for that,” Esteban said. “But as you may be aware, my ship is on silent running, so I need to make this short. I'm gonna hand you over to my Comm Officer, Mr. Childers. He will assist you with a special channel for the video transfer.”

“I am glad I could be of some help, Captain.”

“And I hope that the next time we meet, it will be under some happier circumstances. Thank you again, Captain Ri’tarxx -- Esteban out.”

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Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

U.S.S. Grissom – Deck 4.

Y

ou’re not very talkative, Lieutenant,” Ensign Rachel Wood stated as she and Chattman stood on a ladder and worked on loosening a panel on the ceiling in one of the corridors of Deck 4.

It was still early in the day shift, but apart from the occasional passing-by of a crewman, the corridor and the whole ship seemed deserted. Maybe it had to do with the mood, the morale, and all the devastating events of the recent days. It seemed as if none of the crew had any reason to want to leave their quarters. In addition, the debriefings, as they were on-going with Casas and Ottair, now literally going from door to door, seemed to indicate that almost everyone on board was a potential suspect.

Wood was glad she had already cheated her way through all this.

“Can you give me the hydro-spanner, please?” Chattman asked. Wood climbed down and handed it over. “Thanks,” Chattman said.

Wood took a look at the bag on the floor, where about a dozen cameras they had already gathered were stored. She had to find a way to get her hands on the Genesis data from the Science Lab, and then to transfer it to her superior, the Caitian Lady M’Pursong. Not the easiest task as the ship was still on silent running, and the last time someone dared to do an unauthorized subspace call, it caused the access code to be elevated on the security level scale. Lieutenant Childers had made sure none of the crew would be able do anything but a personal log recording for now.

Childers… Rachel Wood mused. Hold on, maybe he alone was the key to getting the transmission done! He and his communications monitoring station.

“Do you know where Childers is going to install the monitoring station for the CCTV?” she asked, trying to sound as random and bored as possible.

“Subspace Transceiver Bay,” Chattman answered, equally bored, while pulling out some isolinear cables through the ceiling. “Childers will take care of it tomorrow.”

“Great,” Wood replied. “Are we installing some cams in there, too?”

“Nah,” said Chattman, “that’d be a waste. We’ll go for the corridors and main compartments. Important thing is to get hold of whoever is walking around, where they’re coming from, and where they’re going, and the main compartments will receive installation of the HRSC cameras from the probes.”

Still, it had grabbed Wood’s interest. She had to get at least one video camera into the Subspace Transceiver Bay, somewhere behind the console if at all possible, so that she would be able to record Childers’s console transactions.

‘This is it!’ she thought. She knew the layout of the compartment, and it already had an amazing secondary comm station. It wouldn’t be the first time that signals were transmitted from there in the past. All she needed was a quiet moment alone, and she would use one of her own cameras, possibly Wood’s private digicam, which would even deliver a hi-res picture. She would connect it to her desktop in the bunkroom and just wait until Childers came into the Subspace Transceiver Bay to enter in his security clearance code.

What a pleasant thought.

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“Ok, that’s done,” said Chattman and climbed down the ladder he was standing on. “Deck 4, from all angles, what do you think?”

Wood looked at the roof where the previously removed panel was now back in place. She nodded. “You can’t see a thing.”

“It’s perfect, isn’t it? But that’s it for now.”

“Sir?” “Yes, Wood, I’m ordering you to your quarters to get some sleep. We’ll proceed tonight after 2200 hours. I’m gonna need some rest as well, and some time with… Aabin.”

Mentioning his Deltan boyfriend still seemed to embarrass him. He smiled sheepishly at Wood, who returned the smile, but slightly rolled her eyes. “It’s cool with me, Chattman,” she replied. “Lieutenant Chattman, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“How is Aabin doing anyway?”

“Good,” Chattman answered. “Although he still isn’t quite back to his former self – I mean, he’s recovering well, actually, and I couldn’t be more happy.”

They packed up their things, and Wood grabbed the ladder.

“Honestly, Chattman, I think you’re one lucky guy, and you don’t even realize it.”

Chattman looked down. “I know, Rachel. I’m… glad I met him. It was kinda revealing, to say the least. Like the best thing that ever happened to me.”

They walked to a small storage room and put the stuff inside. Then they headed for the turbolift.

“Would you be up for tea, or some snacks? With me and Aabin?”

“What, right now?” Wood asked.

“Only if you like,” Chattman said, and the humbleness in his voice almost startled Wood.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” she replied. “It’s flattering, but I think I’ll go and get some sleep, really. But thanks for the offer, let’s do this some other time.”

They entered the turbolift.

“Yeah… I’d be happy to,” said Chattman and meant it. “Deck Two.” They split up in the corridor, Chattman heading for his quarters and Wood for hers. She was still in a thinking mode. To re-adjust the real Ensign Wood’s digicam would require some work. And somehow she had to find her way to the Science Lab to get her hands on the bloody Genesis data. Maybe, just maybe, Lieutenant Childers’s access codes would be of help for that, as well.

Yes, why not? she asked herself and entered the bunkroom. Relaxing, she took a deep breath and looked into the side-mirror next to the door. Her face was slowly changing, the red lips of the ensign disappeared and the shoulder-long hair shortened. Her head now took the shape of a more masculine form. Lastly, his eyes changed and revealed their real colour. Na’nnerd smiled at his own image in the mirror, and looked into the deep purple sparkles of his true eyes. He was finally himself again.

Then he took a sniff and turned around… the whole damn room smelled of dog!

Of course, it was Muggle, sleeping somewhere in a corner.

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Na’nnerd walked towards Kara McLaughlin’s bunk to find the canine resting there on the blanket. ‘Disgusting,’ he thought and leaned over.

Just then, Muggle woke up. He raised his head and growled menacingly at him.

In a moment he would be barking again.

“Not this time!” Na’nnerd said aloud. “I think I’ve really had enough of you.”

Faster than he could blink, Na’nnerd had his arms around Muggle and showed the struggling dog how firm his grip could be. Soon there was a small ‘crack’ that did the job, and there was no bark anymore as the rest of Na’nnerd’s body wrapped around the dog.

With the nasty sound of a long slimy blob, Muggle – or what was left of him – sagged and Na’nnerd let him drop on the floor, motionless and silent. While he took on the shape of Rachel Wood once again, a broad grin appeared on her face as she looked at the dog’s body.

“Adios, canino!” she said and decided to leave this scenery before things would turn awkward. She stormed out to the corridor and screamed for her life.

“Help! Help!” she yelled, while still mimicking Rachel Wood’s voice. “Oh my God!!”

A door opened not far away, and out rushed Chattman and Aabin, who only had a towel around his hips, which almost slipped down.

“For goodness sake!” the young Deltan shouted. “What happened?”

And with tears in her eyes, and her face speaking the language of horror and shock, she looked at him and Chattman, and was almost unable to speak.

“It’s the dog, it’s Muggle… Someone’s killed Muggle!”

– End –

The Story will continue in Prose Chapter 11: “I Have Sinned”

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Star Trek: Grissom – Chapter 10 – „Per Ardua, Ad Astra“ (Through Adversity to the Stars)

The author would especially like to thank:

Seán Se n P^ul Teeling ^nd M^rtin M^rtin McN^m^r^ Rob C^ves ^nd Hidden Frontier Productions Rick Pike Bri^n “@rk^dy @rk^dy” @rk^dy Childers Mich^el Hudson @dri^n Jones for creating my favourite Deltan character “Aabin”

and Benj^min C^vesd^le for giving him your unique and humble touch.

I’m in love with your voice, man!

as well as

The C^st ^nd Crew of ST@R TREK: TREK: GRISSOM @udio Progr^ms and

my lovely fiancé

D^vid You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and the love of my life!

For more information on our written prose chapters and audio presentations, please visit us on our website at: http://www.startrekgrissom.net

© December 2nd, 2012

Black Wall Productions 40