Ambassador Moose

Somewhere In Romulan Space... Stardate 10110.07 A normal person would have been uncomfortable by the slow movement of the stars. Normal people were used to traveling at high warp speed and took comfort from the quick smears of light that streaked past them. But they had to be jaded space travelers to ever consider any warp speed 'slow'. Although the stars were drifting instead of shooting past the viewport, Benai Varden was relaxed. He was so relaxed that a normal person would have checked him for life signs. He had lowered his pulse to 12 beats per minute; his lungs filled with air once every dozen heartbeats. Moset and Melora achieved their rest state through mental concentration; their current J'har Setti tournament having lasted three days. But Varden was the Prime of their triad and needed no external focus. He had mastered the traditional disciplines. He would need them. He felt, more than heard, the new heartbeat that swelled from the background and joined the one that had beat steady time outside his chamber for the past six hours. The two merged rhythmically for a moment, the stronger beat matching the tired one, until it crept ahead filling the space between the other pulses exactly. Eventually, it crept ahead again until they returned to perfect synchronization. This rotating melody continued for two minutes until the weaker beat faded away and the stronger beat kept time alone. The changing of the guard was complete. Tor Duva had relieved Jaqo Ren from the sound of things. Varden respected the efficiency of the Paktaran crew. The changing of the guard had occurred at exactly the anticipated moment. And he could tell from the stars that the course and speed he had dictated had been adhered to exactly. Captain Logoss ran an exemplary Starship. Varden could have made good use of them in other circumstances. It was a waste to dispose of such a unique and valuable resource. But the resources he was trying to preserve were each one more unique and valuable than the one before it. As much as he would have preferred otherwise, he could not anticipate and end to this scenario that would allow him to keep them all. Regrettably, sacrifices would have to be made. And it was all because of Christopher Moose. The Federation Ambassador was one of the most unique individuals Varden had ever encountered, and that was saying quite a lot. Yet his uniqueness was not easily identifiable. He was not unusually smart, although he was more clever than most. Nor was he physically astounding, in spite of the accident that had left him with a body as near perfect as human anatomy could get. But in spite of his lack of obvious talents, Moose was the man who had maneuvered the Coalition into openly acknowledging their existence to the Federation. He had unearthed both parts of the Revelation Device, which had been abandoned for seventy-five years, and placed them in the hands of the only Klingon capable of detonating it. After witnessing the destruction of the Klingon's planetoid, he next traced the technology first to Axia, and then across Romulan space all the way to Paktar. The Coalition Board of Directors had rearranged their agenda to interview him personally, an honor that Varden still aspired towards. This was no ordinary human. What made Christopher Moose unique was that he always seemed to be in the middle of things. Cultures based on faith would claim that he had a destiny. Instead, Varden looked at it as an instinct. Moose knew what mattered, even when others did not. Moose was not self-aware enough to know this, and he couldn't explain why he was drawn towards something anymore that Euclid could prove his basic postulates of Geometry. Moose's intuition always drew him towards historic events and surrounds him with extraordinary people. Combine that with a stubborn determination to control events, and only a total incompetent could avoid success. Moose had by no means been the most skilled Captain in the Starfleet, but he had managed to change the scope of the Federation forever. Which led Varden to this wonderfully ripe predicament, which was also the most bountiful opportunity he had ever imagined. The Federation Embassy was originally intended as a way to neutralize Moose's activities. The best way to protect the flock from a wolf has always been to keep him in plain sight within the sheep pen. But true to form, the Ambassador managed to surround himself with the extraordinary. To begin with, there was the stowaway. David Quest had telepathic abilities, yet he had managed to survive the jump through folded space without the protection of telepathic dampeners. Granted, the boy was in a coma, but he was still alive. No other telepath was in a condition to make that claim. Even the Federation's Betazoid delegate had perished, and a level 5 shield had protected him. At the young age of 13, David had become unique in the galaxy. Unfortunately for him, that made him a commodity; one that would soon be the property of the Paktaran government. As if the boy wasn't prize enough, there was Rowan Moderi. Whether by instinct or by blind luck, when Moose assisted in her escape from Paktar right out from under the nose of her overbearing husband, he had foiled years of meticulous planning and training. Gio Moderi was exposed to the Counsel as an incompetent bully, and his plans for Axia were ruined. Now Rowan was returning, freely and of her own will. And by coincidence, Moose was once again in the middle of one of the Coalition's most important research projects. It was clear that Moose was unaware of her abilities, otherwise he would not have asked about the availability of Coalition telepaths to help David. Yet in spite of Rowan's desire to keep secret about her gifts, Varden's sensors indicated that she had shut off her personal telepathic dampener in order to reach out to the boy. It was good to know that she would compromise herself given the right circumstances. She could be influenced. That fact would ultimately help them manipulate her provided she survived the journey to Coalition space. Varden would have to ensure her survival. But if survival came down to making a choice, which way would Varden go? Both Rowan and David were ripe with potential, as was Moose himself. If they were successful in aligning Moose to the Coalition agenda, they would have the means to annex the entire Federation. The Romulan and Klingon empires would surely follow right behind. Half the galaxy would belong to the Coalition, making it the largest empire in recorded history. Varden considered the other members of the Federation Delegation; the dual-life form Terza Gio, the stoic Marine leader Kathryn O'Malley ... he didn't know what made them special yet, but he knew that they were. That was the thing about postulates, they didn't have to be proven; you accepted them as truth. The fact that these people were working with Moose spoke to their uniqueness. If natural selection had eliminated the Betazoid, then the others had earned their survival. Even the ubiquitous Attaché Bleeth had to have more talents than her good looks or vapid demeanor implied. If not, Moose would have left her behind on the Arcadia. In addition to ensuring that the Delegation arrived on Paktar, Varden had to make sure they didn't leave. The shortest journey from Federation space to Paktar took 97 days unless you went directly through the Romulan Empire. The Romulans had grown weak since the Dominion War. Not only did Moose go through Romulan space to reach Paktar, he went home the same way. The course they were on presently had traveled within 40 light years of Romulus itself without receiving so much as a scan. The Delegation's contact with the Federation must be slow and controlled; response time must be hindered. This route must be closed permanently. Suppose that the Romulans were to discover the Paktaran Starship within their borders. They would have to secure the vessel. If the Paktarans escaped the encounter, the Romulans would likely follow them home. Although the Paktaran Defense Force was no match for the Romulan fleet, Paktar was now a member of the Coalition. They would be forced to defend the planet or loose other, stronger members. The Romulans wouldn't stand a chance against Coalition weaponry, and if the Empire fell, there would be no reason for the Federation to bypass their space. The Romulan Empire had a purpose, albeit temporarily, and once again had ensured its survival. If on the other hand, the Romulans were to destroy the trespasser in their home space, they would feel their point had been made. They would increase security on this particular traffic route; especially if they knew the Federation was somehow involved, but likely see no reason to pursue their adversary. No other ship would ever follow this path. And since the Federation has not yet perfected their own flux drive, they would not be able to jump across the void the way a Coalition ship was able. Reinforcements would be forced to take the long road. The agenda of the Coalition would be met. Reveal the presence of the Federation Delegation... deliver them safely to Paktar... Unfortunately, in every scenario Varden could envision, the Paktar ship and it's crew would be destroyed. Regrettably, sacrifices would have to be made. Amb Moose, for Prime Varden

Stardate 10109.27 Slowly, as the answer to her last question came to her, the room began to spin. Dana moved unsteadily to her comm station, and slumped into the chair. "Computer, I need a priority 2 message sent to Earth...." Grayson Prep Academy, Mendocino, California.......address to the Head Master." Dana glanced at the chronometer. 6 hours had passed since she'd sent the message to Earth. With a priority 2 endorsement, she should have recieved a response by now. She cursed; accentuating the act by shattering the cup of cold coffee in her hand against the bulkhead. She glanced at her chrono again. Time was running out. She had to report for duty. She slapped the comm button, "Communications! Ensign Bailey!" she barked. No, Commander. You have not recieved any personal communications. Yes, Commander, your priority 2 had been sent. No Commander, we can not verify reception at this distance. Yes, Commander I will send it again. No, Commander, I will keep it encoded as private. Yes, Commander I will notify you immediately. She'd grunted a thankless, "very well", to the Ensign, just as hints of nausea began to nag at her . She took another dose of the meds Doctor Dacotah had prescribed. It seemed not that long since her last doseage, and she was wondering if the medication was actually working. She stood, and paused a moment for the room to cease spinning. The meds were taking affect. Then, her hand absently reached for the computer console control as if it had a mind of it's own. A recorded file appeared upon her screen, and Dana was somehow unable to keep herself from watching it. She'd seen it once before; not long after she and David had come aboard the Arcadia. That had been David's "first" stowaway. It wasn't the standard taped last will and testament.....the one generally updated when battle is near.....sterile in it's environment. Kelly Quest was dressed in jeans and sweatshirt, standing next to a remarkably beautiful Appaloosa mare. First appearances gave one the feeling that an *info-mercial* was forthcoming. Her hands caressed the animal's face a moment; bringing a soft nicker from the mare.Then the camera....apparently operated by another person.....panned over a beautiful expanse of land. When the camera panned back to her, Kelly looked into it and smiled warmly. Then she spoke... "Hello, David. Since you are watching this, that time that you and I spoke of on occasion has come. I am gone. It's a time that comes for all of us, David, and you must not become bitter because of it. And, remember, where ever this journey has taken me, I will always love you." "My last wishes are simple; you and I have already discussed most of them. This ranch is to be yours and Dana's..equally. There are over a thousand acres, so I'm sure you can keep from getting in each others way if need be." Kelly smiled and her eyes were bright. "I want Bess," she nodded toward the mare, and stroked her mane, "to go to Ziggy. Besides me, he was the only one she's ever taken to. The rest of the herd, goes with the ranch, of course." "There are some papers that I have sealed and left with the JAG office in San Francisco. They are for Chris.....Captain Moose. If you are still a minor, David, I am requesting that Chris become your legal guardian. It's no reflection on Dana; but she's young, and has a lot of growing to do herself. I know she'll understand." "There are so many things I wish we'd had time to share. Life is so very short. I wanted so much to see the man that you will become..... to watch you become a father...... But, time has caught me up. The life I chose comes with these risks." "Where ever your path leads you, son, remember that I am proud of you.....and I love you very much. Tell Dana that I love her very much, too." Kelly paused, "And, when you see Chris......tell him.......tell him....." She smiled. "Tell him I love him, too" Her image faded...... Dana, defiantly wiped a tear from her face. David had never seen his mother's Will. At first it was because Dana had refused to believe herself that Kelly was gone. But, when that became a reality to her, and she'd learned that Captain Christopher Moose was not the man Kelly had told her he was; she made the decision to simply not share the will with anyone...not even Ziggy. She would take care of her cousin herself. She slammed both fists against the top of the computer screen. "Damn you!!" She had no idea to whom the curse was intended. Moments later, tho somewhat pale, a composed Dana Quest entered turbo lift 2. "Bridge" .......................

Stardate 10109.27 "Computer, where is Dana Quest?" "Dana Quest is in her quarters. Deck 3, Room 0331. Would you like directions?" Ens. Sam Bailey refused the computer's offer of assistance and proceeded to the residential deck. He was not happy about his assignment; rumor had it that the acting Chief of Security was taking no prisoners this day. She had already refused to answer several comm messages from him, and in fact had blocked all incoming messages from his comm id. He had no choice but to pay her a personal visit. He approached the door to Dana's quarters as if he expected it to be booby-trapped. Cautiously, he rang the bell. "Who is it!" barked the sharp voice behind the door. "Ensign Bailey, ma'am... sir. Ma'am... " He silently cursed the day he met Yeoman Bleeth. "From Communications, ma'am," he added as if that would explain everything. The door slid open hissing like a snake. "What part of 'Leave me alone' did you not understand the last time we spoke?' Dana looked awful. Her skin was a pale white color and her eyes were puffy and bloated. Bailey felt bad for being so persistent when the Cdr. was obviously not feeling well. "I am so sorry ma'am ... sir. But I am charged to deliver the mail, come rain or sleet or dark of night, or..." "We're in an artificial environment, Bailey. There is no dark of night." He noticed that she stepped away from the door. Did that mean it was OK for him to come in? "Yes, ma'am." He replied. "Sorry ma'am." "Are you going to come in or are you going to broadcast my urgent message in the hallway?" He stepped carefully into the room, the door snapping shut as he entered. "Tell me again why you're here?" Dana asked. "Do you remember Captain Moose, ma'am? He's an Ambassador now, on Paktar... in the Beta Quadrant." "I went with him on his first trip to Paktar, thank you. I know who he is!" Moose... When he left the Arcadia, Dana had vowed never to have anything to do with him again. Why now of all times, she wondered? Of course, why not now? Next Tuesday would be as bad as today where Moose was concerned. There was no good time for a train wreck. Things couldn't get any worse. "Why couldn't you just download the message into my personal queue?" "It's not in a standard format," said Bailey. "I had to piece it together from a sub-space beta wave carrier. I think it originated in Romulan space. It must have encountered solar radiation along the way because certain packets are missing and others are horribly corrupted. I pieced it together as best I could, but you'll need manual intervention to play it. That's why I'm here, ma'am... sir." What was he doing in Romulan space? The journey to Paktar was going to bypass it. She hoped for his sake that he didn't need her to bail him out of some jam. She couldn't have cared less. Still, it was unusual. "Play it, Sam." The face that appeared on her screen was unmistakably her former Captain, even through the static. Dana shuddered as half-forgotten anger leapt instantly to the surface. "Dana, I don't have much time. I'm calling about David." The image suddenly froze. So did her heart. He couldn't have found out about Kelly's will, could he? She was wrong; things could get very, very worse. "Why did the image freeze? Keep it going!" she ordered. "I warned you I was missing packets," said Bailey with a previously undisplayed backbone. "Just a second." He skillfully manipulated the controls and the image skipped forward." "... Not at school. He stowed aboard the Crème Brule. When the..." skdfiauttiui@(&$(&(*%*^$#$sdjksfskag ... "still in a coma, and we're not sure when he'll recover. Dana, he's traveling without his guardian. Coalition law will declare him a ward of the state. I will not be able to protect him from ..." skdfiau ui@(&$(&(*%*^ $#$sdjksfsk ag ... "send an immediate transmission to the Central Government on Paktar naming me David's legal guardian. The only alternative is to...” The image froze again. The only sound in the room louder than Dana's breathing was Ensign Bailey's frantic tapping of the keys. "I have one more short segment," he told her. Moose's image shifted. It was obvious that several seconds were lost. "Dana, you must trust me. This is the only way. Not only is David at risk, but so is the entire Federation Delegation to Paktar. Our fate is in your ha..." "Where is the rest?" She demanded. "I'm sorry, ma'am ... sir. That's all there is. I hope you understand why I felt this was so important for you to see." "Of course," said Dana weakly, her mind was only half in the room. "You are dismissed Ensign." Dana was stunned. Trust him... trust him??? She couldn't trust Moose when he was here. How could she trust him half a galaxy away? And what was that nonsense about David. He was safely at boarding school, wasn't he? When was the last time she had heard from him, anyway? Slowly, as the answer to her last question came to her, the room began to spin. Dana moved unsteadily to her comm station, and slumped into the chair. "Computer, I need a priority 2 message sent to Earth...." Grayson Prep Academy, Mendocino, California.......address to the Head Master." LtCdrDanaQuest Amb Moose

Master Gunnery Sergeant Mary Kathryn O'Malley Federation Marine Corps Assigned: Military Escort Service to Federation Ambassador Christopher T. Moose Kate O'Malley stood at parade rest in the shadows of the sickbay on the Benai Starship. She was standing her shift with the young boy that lay in the bed a mere 6 feet from her. The young black dog creature that was the boy's pet, lay curled at her feet, his head resting on the toe of her boot. The Benai had not easily consented to either the presence of the Federation Marine, or the pup; but Ambassador Moose had managed to convince them to allow it. Kate had no problem with the duty. She did not trust the Benai, and since the boy was helpless, it made perfect sense that he be protected. Her only real problem was being assigned to diplomatic duty in the first place. At 45 years of age, she was a Master Gunnery Sergeant, the second highest Non Commissioned officer rank in the Corps, and a highly decorated combat veteran. She belonged in a combat unit; not nurse maiding diplomats. But, she was a Marine. She went where she was told, and did her duty. So there she stood, in Federation Marine dress blues, her breast weighted with 27 years of honors and decorations, and the head of a sleeping puppy on her boot, watching over a child. When the Axian woman entered the sickbay, and moved to David Quest's bed, Kate's 27 years of discipline brought her to attention; but her eyes did not snap front, and focus on that non existent place where Marine's at attention had looked for centuries. Instead, her eyes followed the woman carefully. She was an alien, too, and member of the Federation delegation or no, she could be a threat to the boy. Truth be told, Ambassador Moose was the only member of the delegation diplomats that Kate felt she could trust at all. He'd been a Starship Captain. He was kindred. After the required respectful few moments, O'Malley returned to parade rest; still watching the woman as she moved a chair to the boy's bedside and began gently playing a harp and singing softly to him. The pup, Shadow, raised his head from her boot and watched too. He did not growl, but, Kate was certain that he was also prepared to defend his master with his life if the need arose. Kate liked the dog beast. He was a Marine's kind of dog. The pup was loyal, and Kate knew he had courage. The woman, Rowan Moderi was her name, had a beautiful voice, and both Kate and the pup found it and the harp music pleasing. Shadow returned his head to Kate's boot with an appreciative whimper sound, and Kate relaxed a little as she listened and watched. Maybe she was being overly distrusting, O'Malley thought to herself as the woman sang and played. Clearly the woman was here to give what comfort she could to the boy. Then the music stopped, and Kate found she was disappointed. She glanced down at the pup to if he too seemed to be saddened by the loss of the music. Kate did not see the woman's hand slip into her tunic; but she did see clearly when the woman reached over and took the boy's hand, and O'Malley stiffened. The young dog raised his head and offered a small tentative growl. Both watched as the woman's eyes closed as she held the boy's hand gently in her own. O'Malley's posture changed, and she took a small step closer to the boy's bed. The pup raised to his feet and stepped forward with her, his head low, his ears back, and his eyes fixed on the woman. Both were poised if the woman made any attempt to harm young David. Kate's hand slipped to a small device on her belt and pushed a button that would alert Ambassador Moose. Then she prepared herself to do what she might have to do.

A lullaby for David SD 10108.10 The small harp in her hands was silent. She had intended to play David some music, but now sitting here she felt like she was being torn in two. The harp was the furthest thing from her mind, as she looked down at the child. Not really a child, Rowan thought as she smiled at his sleeping form, a young man. One day he would grow to be very handsome. One day. The smile disappeared completely from her face. There would be no more days for David. Her fingers gently plucked at the harp strings. Coalition law was very precise in this area. David had stowed away on the Captain's yacht, and would, as soon as they reached Paktar, be made a ward of the state. The gentle tune of an ancient Axian lullaby filled the small room where Rowan sat with David. The music was soothing, but Rowan only felt more torn. The Coalition would not look out for David's best interest. They were only interested in gaining more power and more control over greater expanses of the galaxy. And David was an enigma to them. A strong Telepath that somehow managed to survive as the ship entered flux. She could see the doctors lurking, waiting for some unguarded moment to try and discover 'why.' Quietly, her voice joined the harp, "Loving Shepherd of Thy sheep...." Gio had thought of her as a similar prize. A trophy that he could parade around and use when the time was right. "...keep Thy lamb, in safety keep..." But she had quietly watched, and listened, and learned. For too long she had listened to Gio say, that she would be killed if anyone discovered her telepathic abilities. But Gio was no longer her husband, and no longer controlling her life. " ... nothing from Thy power withstand... " But what of David? She looked again at him, and willed herself not to weep. Rowan could only imagine the telepathic power this young man held. Gio had implanted a telepathic suppression device, just below the skin surface, under her left breast. She grimaced at the memory, how he had laughed and said, "No one would think to look there!", but the device had served her well. A powerful Telepath in her own right, even with her abilities suppressed, she felt the discomfort when the ship entered flux. "...none can pluck me from Thine hand ..." How had David managed to survive? How could he continue to survive, if he stayed in this coma and The Coalition took him away? Rowan let the harp resonate with the last notes, her voice in a whisper, "...none can pluck me from Thine hand ..." Still bent over the harp she reached under the folds of her tunic and braced herself for the mental assault that would occur when she turned the suppression device off. After years of intense training she was able to block out all the unwanted "noise" but after months of having her abilities suppressed, she knew that the initial onslaught would overwhelming if not prepared. Gently she set down her harp, and took David's hand. She could not live with her conscious if she did nothing to help this young man, even if it meant her own discovery. She closed her eyes and focused on him. David... David, it's Rowan. I'm here to help you, if you'll let me. There is so much I need to tell you. The Captain, Moose, he is very worried about you -- we all are. He tries to hide his grief, but the pain is visible on his face. David. David, you need to come to me, focus on me. There is great danger ahead. You need to be aware of it. On some detached level Rowan knew she should not go too far into his mind, yet, she moved hesitantly forward, conscious not to probe, to dig for anything more than to contact David. David ... You need to wake up. You ... need ... to .... Rowan Moderi Federation Delegate

"The Eye of the Hurricane" Stardate 10107.29 They were 36 hours into their journey through Romulan space, and it had already felt like an eternity. Who traveled at warp one, wondered Yasmine Bleeth? No one, she thought, other than an unmanned ore freighter or an occasional rogue satellite. She sighed in acceptance of the logic. Slow and especially steady would avoid attracting unwanted attention from the Romulans. Still, the remaining three and a half days before reaching the Borg's warp conduit was going to be torture, for more than the obvious reason. It would be normal for others to feel the same stress that she did, so she was not surprised to find the loud, raucous party occupying the same stately observation lounge that mere days ago had hosted the "Welcome Aboard" reception for Ambassador Moose and the other Federation delegates. Nor did it surprise her to find Moose in the center of it, observing it all while remaining unaffected by the stimulation. What did surprise her was to find two Benai in the midst of the chaos, unmoving and intense, engaged in a three-dimensional strategy game called J'har Setti. They seemed unaware of the party raging around them; the eye of the hurricane as it were. "They're playing again?" asked Yasmine as she snuck in beside several other spectators and looked over the playing board. "Still," replied Moose. "They're playing still." "That would explain why they didn't move somewhere a little more peaceful after the last set," she answered. "It's Benai Moset's turn. He hasn't moved in three hours." Moose glanced around the room and added, "Their concentration is astounding." "The Benai have remarkable control over their senses," said Yasmine. "They may be totally unaware of their audience, or they might be focusing on a specific heartbeat in the room to keep their concentration anchored. We know so little about their capabilities that I wouldn't dismiss the possibility." "Regardless, they're probably the only thing in this galaxy that moves slower than this ship." The humor in Moose's voice did little to mask his own frustration. "When the galaxy hands you lemons, Ambassador..." He turned his attention off of the game and focused exclusively on his attache. Yasmine had been his assistant for a long time, first as his yeoman on the Arcadia and now here. He didn't need for her to finish the old saying to know something was wrong. He took her gently by the arm and led her out of the party. "Has there been any change in David's condition?" he asked as they moved away from the throng. "I'm afraid not, he's still in a telepathic coma," she said. "Rowan is with him now." "Then what is the problem?" he asked. "Sitting with David has left me with plenty of time on my hands," she began. "I've been using it to do some research. One of the most fascinating subjects I've dabbled in has been Coalition law." "That's useful." "It is. I've learned all sorts of interesting things. For example, did you know that it's illegal to transport a minor in a starship without the specific consent of their parent or guardian?" "I didn't know that," replied Moose. "You do now," she replied seriously. "David Quest is a minor, Dana doesn't even know that he's here. When this ship lands on Paktar, you could be arrested immediately. All of us could." "Yasmine, we are Federation Delegates. Even if this law did apply, we would have diplomatic immunity." "Not in this case. Diplomatic immunity is not granted in cases involving seditious or lascivious acts committed against children. It is considered their greatest offense, more so than murder." "David was a stowaway. They can't hold us responsible for that." "Why not?" she asked stubbornly. "He was found hidden on your personal ship. You didn't mention to anyone he was there, and as long as he remains in a telepathic coma he can't testify that you didn't coerce him into coming with you. Even if he revived, his testimony may be legally irrelevant. As a minor, they will assume he's lying to protect you." Moose was unconvinced. "They wouldn't transport us across the galaxy to set up this Embassy and to establish diplomatic relations with the Federation, only to crush it on our arrival. I'll admit that I don't know why they need us, but they still do need us." "Perhaps," she argued. "But they don't need all of us. They can lock you up and still have a delegation. Where else would we go? And besides, all they would have to do is hold us pending an investigation. If we're in jail, David Quest becomes a ward of the state." That was an argument which caught Moose's attention. By all rights, David should be dead. The Coalition ships use a flux drive for faster-than-light travel. Telepaths require special shielding as the ship enters flux. As it was, the shielding didn't help the Betazoid, Yori, who perished during the initial flux. No one, including the Benai, knew how the boy had survived. For David's protection, Moose had to make sure they didn't get a chance to find out. "They can't do that," he said, shaking his head. "Are you willing to take that chance?" asked Yasmine already knowing the answer. "Of course not," answered Moose. "What are you proposing?" "You need to legally adopt David. The next three and a half days give us the window we need to contact the Arcadia and get Dana to agree. We're fortunate for the delay. Without it, we'd be on Paktar already." "We can't contact the Arcadia. It will alert every Romulan in the sector that we're here." "Using equipment on the Creme Brulee, I can divide a thirty-second audio transmission into a series of twelve short microwave bursts. If the Romulans detect them, they will appear to be cosmic radiation. They would likely not investigate." "Why wouldn't the Arcadia think they were cosmic radiation?" "I prearranged the frequency with Ensign Barnhardt, just in case you got into trouble." "You can do all that?" asked Moose. "I was a very capable communications officer," said Yasmine with a touch of pride. "It's still too risky," said Moose. He'd give his own life to protect David, but there were hundreds of others on the Coalition ship. As long as they were in Romulan space, they all shared the same fate. "How many lives can I put at risk to protect one boy?" he asked. "Eight, counting your own," she replied. "There are eight members of this delegation, all of whom have pledged their lives to defend the Federation. The crew of this vessel have pledged their lives to the Coalition, the same Coalition that would overrun Federation space on a whim, or use our worlds as test sites for their Revelation Device." Her logic was impeccable, and it reminded Moose of why Yasmine was so valuable to him. She was not simply the eye-candy yeoman that everyone had always assumed her to be. "See to it," he muttered quickly, before he changed his mind. "I'll meet you in thirty minutes," she said softly as they reentered the party. Benai Moset and Benai Melora were in the exact same positions as they were when Moose and Yasmine had left. "For crying out loud," said Yasmine. "Why doesn't Moset just move his red Cor'gha to the second level and end this game?" Yasmine left, and an image passed through Moose's head. It was of a Klingon moon, lush and green, being enveloped by an energy wave and turning into a grey hulk of rock. It had been an overpowering sight, and no one who had witnessed it had been unmoved. It was the event which had driven Moose to uncover the Coalition in the first place. Waves of self-doubt overcame Moose as he ticked off the minutes. The Coalition appeared to be a government run by scientists. They were not inhearantly evil. Evil he could deal with. These people were just clinically detached from the universe. Planets like Axia were just field laboratories, and people like David were specimens. And even though Moose was growing comfortable with the Paktarans he had met on the ship, Paktar was new to the Coalition. Their leaders would use them to further the Coalition agenda, no matter what that meant. Perhaps the embassy was being established on Paktar to because Coalition ideals were not so apparent in the population yet? Perhaps Paktar was chosen to house the embassy because it would present Moose with a distorted image that the Coalition and the Federation were not all that different? Perhaps the Federation was being brought to Paktar so the Coalition could embarrass them publically, and convince the population that the Coalition was their only alternative? Criminal charges of sedition brought against the Federation Ambassador would certainly do that. As he watched the pale figures stare at each other over the three-dimensional playing field, Moose felt like a piece on the J'har Setti game board. The Coalition was smart, powerful, and in control. And the only way to protect the Federation was to thwart their every move. But his opponents were coming at him from all directions. How could he stay one step ahead of them when he was constantly on the defensive? Suddenly, there was movement. Benai Moset gracefully lifted his hand and with great precision, slid his red Cor'gha up to the corner of the second level. Almost instantly, Benai Melora turned down her Brah'ga in acknowledgment of defeat. It was exactly as Yasmine predicted. As the Benai began to rearrange their pieces for a rematch, Moose began to feel for the first time that they might be able to win this particular sortie. He was unaware of the fact that his fate was in the hands of a woman who hated him. The future of the delegation was controlled by Dana Quest. Amb Christopher T. Moose On the way to Paktar...

Stardate 10106.10 It felt good to use his legs again. They were stiff and cramped from many hours of waiting by David's bedside in sick bay. How many hours had it been? Moose wasn't sure. It felt like moments. It felt like an eternity. After several nurses' shifts had come and gone with no change, Attache Bleeth had persuaded Moose to get some rest. She would stay with David, or she would get Rowan Moderi to relieve her. They would contact him the moment there was any change in David's condition. None of the Paktaran doctors would dare throw the Federation Ambassador out of sickbay. Moose suspected someone had slipped Yasmine some cash on the side. He was supposed to rest, but he had business to attend to. Moose wouldn't rest until business was concluded. He had been on just about every deck on the ship before finding the object of his business calmly standing on the observation deck as if he been patiently waiting for Moose to appear. "Prime Varden, a word if you please." "Ambassador Moose." Varden's voice was described as chilly in the best of times. With a thick layer of compassion heaped on, it was positively oily. "Please accept my condolences on the death of Representative Yori. We had no idea that you were traveling with telepaths." Moose felt a wave of guilt sweep over him. Concern for David had pushed aside all thoughts of the Betazed member of his delegation. The Benai had warned them of possible side effects to the Coalition's method of travel. They had even prepared special shielded quarters for them. In spite of this, some of the delegates experienced headaches of various intensities as the ship began its journey. Moose himself had developed a migraine that thankfully ended all conversation with Terza. But as the ship jumped to warp, Yori let out a scream to raise the dead. When it ended, he had joined them. They had left the Federation less than 3 days behind, and already the delegation had been reduced to eight members. Moose had experienced his first fatality. "He was supposed to have been shielded," said Moose bitterly. "And he was," said Varden, almost taking pleasure from Moose's accusation. "His shielding was a solid as yours. You didn't experience any ... discomfort, did you?" Moose remained silent, refusing to volunteer that information. "It's a pity we didn't think to shield the cargo bay," Varden added. "How is the boy?" "There has been no change. He's lapsed into a telepathic coma. They are difficult to revive from without aid from another Telepath. Your doctors claim there are none on board who can assist." "There are no telepaths on board at all," sneered Varden. "Except, of course, for your boy David." "I understand that the Paktaran have no telepathic aptitude, but what about you? Or your beta, Melora? Or Jaron Moset? Certainly it isn't beneath the Benai to help a lowly child." "Benai aren't telepathic. We are merely... disciplined," said Varden carefully, adopting a tone usually reserved for four-year olds. "And we are not the monsters that the Paktaran perceive us to be. As you know, people in authority are often scorned by those they manage. I am certain not everyone was upset to meet your replacement on the Arcadia." Moose didn't believe for a moment that Varden was not telepathic. The man knew exactly which of Moose's nerves were raw, precisely which insecurity to play upon. The Benai had demonstrated the ability to freeze a person's muscles using the tone of their voice. How else could they do that if not telepathically? "He might not recover on his own," he said. "Your doctors don't know how to help him." "Another pity," crooned Varden, again with a veneer of compassion. "What would have possessed him to do something so dangerous as stealing aboard your shuttle." "He's very devoted to me," said Moose sadly. His mind flashed back to when David was four. Moose had morosely fallen asleep one evening in front of a holovid and had woken up to find David snuggling in his lap. He had sensed Moose's anxiety and snuck out of Kelly's quarters to come cuddle with him. "We bonded when he was very young," Moose added. "And I left very suddenly. I didn't anticipate how strongly he'd feel about my leaving." That was a bit of an understatement. Moose hadn't considered David's feelings at all. His attempts to convince himself that he was not responsible for David's condition were failing miserably. "Such a strong willed child, and a Telepath well. No wonder his mother has such difficulty instilling discipline." "His mother is dead!" snapped Moose abruptly before shutting himself up. Why did he feel compelled to share this with Varden? Was this another of the Benai's mind tricks? He took a deep breath and tried to clear his thoughts. The banter was not important now. David was important. Moose knew what had to be done. "I'm canceling the delegation, Varden. Stop the ship, take us home." For once, Varden look genuinely surprised. "Ambassador, that would be so unwise. Certainly you don't want to terminate diplomatic relations over an accident with a stowaway, no matter how tragic." "We can mount another delegation. This one came together quickly. David needs medical attention and I'm going to see that he gets it." Like Varden, Moose was also surprised by his determination. He understood the risks that came with Starfleet, even for civilians. He couldn't remember a time where he put an individual's well-being ahead of the Federation, not his own, not even Khiaara's. But this was different. David was comatose, alone in an alien culture. His fate was in Moose's hands. No matter how many relationships he had walked away from in the past, this time the needs of the one were going to be met. Varden peered at him as if he were pupating. He never misjudged people, yet Moose was clearly acting out of character. Events had changed him, forced him to adapt into someone new. He needed to determine quickly just what sort of man had emerged. "Coalition medical technology is far more advanced than you suspect," said Varden. "It would be best to bring the boy to Paktar. We will be able to treat him there." "I can't take that chance," said Moose. "Paktar is too far away. We need to turn back." "You know I can't do that," protested Varden firmly. "We had a limited launch window, which is why you had to leave so quickly. You agreed that there would be no turning back." "That was before I knew David was here. That changes things." "It does not change the laws of physics," said Varden, regaining his authoritative stance. "This ship cannot be turned around." "Fine," said Moose, unwilling to argue any more. "The ship can proceed on it's course. The Creme Brulee is warp capable. I will take David home in my own ship." "You will not make it home in time to save the boy. And by leaving, you will place him in more danger than you suspect." "We're only three days from Starbase 331. I think I can keep him safe that long." "It will take you two months to return to Federation space. If all goes well, we will arrive on Paktar in five days." "No," said Moose, trying to work the navigational logistics in his head. "Paktar is a three-month journey. Yesterday, we were discussing a possible shore-leave location for day 57. How can we be five days away from Paktar?" Varden gestured grandly and the lights dimmed in the observation lounge. The stars glowed outside the viewport as if they had been brightened by the same gesture. "Do you recognize any of the constellations?" he asked. "We are further away from the Federation than you think." "Oh my stars and garters," muttered Moose. "That's the Romulan home system. We're deep in Romulan space. What are we doing here?" Moose was as close to speechless as he ever got. He had expected the Coalition to betray him out at some point. He had not expected anything like this. As always, Varden seemed to sense what he was thinking. "I don't need to remind you of all people, the quickest route to Paktar is through the Star Empire. I assure you, we wish to avoid an encounter with the Romulans as much as you do. We are traveling at warp 1.2 so that we do not attract attention." "Warp 1.2 wouldn't have gotten us this far, this quickly. In fact, Warp 10 wouldn't have gotten us this far. You found a wormhole in Federation space that leads to the heart of the Romulan Empire!" Moose found his shock turning to anger and impatience. These were emotions that for once he hoped Varden could read. Varden sighed as if bored with some remedial lesson. "Wormholes aren't the only method for traveling from point A to point B. Distance is only a fixed value in relation to time when you travel on a linear plane. If you fold the dimensional plane so that your point of origin is closer to your destination, it will take you less time to travel." "What are you talking about?" Moose asked, barely hiding his irritation. "The amount of energy required to fold space is astronomical. The Federation has been struggling with that problem for years." "Do not judge our technology by Federation standards. Although your scientists still wrestle with the mechanics of what they call 'flux drive,' Coalition ships have been bending space for decades. Our generators are small and efficient, and our speed is only limited by the amount of energy we can produce. Unfortunately, the backlash from this energy radiates on a bandwidth similar to human thought. This makes traveling through the fold painful for Telepaths." Varden was direct and forceful, as if his directness would mask the fact that he didn't want this information revealed. "When your boy was discovered, we immediately dropped out of 'flux.' This restored the linear plane and deposited us halfway to our destination. I could fold space and have him on Paktar in an hour, but the journey would likely kill him as it did your Betazed. Therefore, we were forced to resume our journey via conventional warp. As you can see, we are not without compassion for his condition." Many words leapt into Moose's mind. Compassion wasn't one of them. They had been told that the trip to Paktar would take 90 days, yet they clearly would have arrived in 7. What did the Benai have planned for the other 83? "Why didn't you tell us this before we left?" Moose asked. "Because the Federation's flux project is closer to fruition than you know, and we have no intention of speeding up that process for you. One of your ships, the Ranger I believe, is about to have a prototype installed and sent into the Delta quadrant. Teams of Spacefleet personnel are being specially trained for that assignment, including someone bearing a striking resemblance to you." Moose tried not to wince at the mention of his transporter double. Varden's network of intelligence was astounding. The Benai almost purred as he sensed he was striking raw nerves in Moose once again. "How do you plan to get to Paktar?" asked Moose, accepting the fact that he could not get David home on his own. "In five days at our present speed, we will reach a transwarp conduit that was abandoned by the Borg. It will deposit us on the edge of the Paktar system." "As long as the Romulans don't detect us." "Or the Borg," added Varden. "Let me make sure I understand our position," said Moose. He paused slightly, adopting a cold, deadly demeanor that few people had ever been brave enough to take lightly. "David Quest lies in a coma because he was exposed to a psychic energy backlash. That same backlash killed one of the other delegates, even though Yori was shielded and David was not. In the event that he doesn't revive on his own, you are willing to spend five days in Romulan territory hoping not to be noticed, so that you can access a Borg corridor where you also hope not to be noticed. And you're willing to risk this ship and everyone on it out of compassion for a young child." "You would prefer we resumed our journey through the fold?" asked Varden innocently. "I would prefer that you stopped underestimating my intelligence. You don't have any idea how David lived through this. You want him on Paktar so you can find out." "It would, of course, be helpful to know if it was genetics or training which allowed him to survive. It could make folded space travel safe for Telepaths from many species, Coalition and Federation members alike. Think of the lives it could save." It took all of Moose's self-control to fight down the anger and speak. "Invited or not, David Quest is my family and is now part of this delegation. He is under my personal protection and I will not tolerate any threat to his safety." "Your personal protection?" Varden laughed audibly, with more animation in his face than Moose had ever witnessed. "Go ahead, call for backup. How many Federation ships can hear you? And even if they can, how will they get here. It's a three month journey unless you travel through Romulan space, and the Romulans aren't likely to allow that on your behalf after your last trip to Paktar. Do you have any idea how many favors were used by how many governments to prevent your extradition for crimes against the Empire? They would shoot you on sight if they found you here now." "Let them try," barked Moose furiously. "I won't sit idly by and allow you to dissect David like some laboratory specimen." "Oh, you do think us the monsters," Varden teased. "But don't worry, the boy is in no danger. The Coalition Counsel has need of a Federation Embassy. We will not jeopardize their plans because of my personal interest in an unexpected scientific discovery. There will be time for that later, and other Federation specimens I'm sure." "There will be no later," ordered Moose. "If anything ever happens to that boy, I will hold you personally responsible. And unlike you, I have a history of defying my superiors to indulge personal interests. Just ask the Romulans." Moose turned on his heel and stormed away, claiming the last word. "Ambassador." The one word from Varden was all it took for Moose to stop. He could not walk, he could not turn back. He had been stopped in his tracks, a reminder of Benai 'discipline.' "Your threats are obviously born out of grief and stress over a loved one in critical condition. We would be monsters to take offense over careless and emotional words uttered at a time like this. Do not worry, your boy will be shown all of the respect due to your embassy." On the word 'embassy,' free will returned to Moose's legs and he quickly left the observation lounge. He was embarrassed, not only at how easily he had fallen prey to the Benai's ability, but at how careless he had been. Did he really think he could have bullied that man? And what position had he just put David in? In addition to his scientific value, Moose had revealed what an emotional weapon David could be against him. And he had no doubt that the Coalition would exploit that weakness the first moment it suited them. Moose had never grieved for Kelly Quest, so he never had to admit to himself what her loss truly meant. But David was her son, and he realized now that he loved him like his own. He had stayed mostly in the background of David's life on the Arcadia. Dana had been there, and Dana was his real flesh and blood. But Dana was still on the Arc, and now Moose felt like the absent parent who suddenly had custody. David was his family, and David was injured. And God help them all, in the eyes of the Coalition, David Quest was now a commodity. Amb Moose On the way to Paktar

Stardate 10105.29 Jaqo Ren had not wanted to leave Paktar. He had wanted to go to college. But his parents had limited financial resources and the Paktar Defense Force had an excellent tuition reimbursement program. It was an offer he could not refuse. Still, Jaqo assumed that he would spend a few years monitoring equipment at a weather control station. Or at most, serve a shift or two on board a communications relay. Intergalectic travel was not what he had signed up for. Aliens made Jaqo nervous. Not that he was prejudiced, mind you. He was just underexposed. Of course he had studied Romulans in school like everyone else. Paktar was very close to Romulan space, and there was plenty of evidence that they had come early and often in recorded history. But that had been a long time ago. Why they had stopped coming was still one of the great mysteries. And even though Paktarans could now travel to other solar systems, Jaqo was not inclined to visit Romulus and ask where they'd been. Jaqo had never actually seen an alien before the advent of the Coalition. Suddenly, they were everywhere. Aliens appeared in the newscasts with local politicians. Aliens were sighted at the theatre and popular sporting events. Aliens started attending their universities, and more importantly, working with their military. This was still too new for Jaqo, and frankly he needed more time to adjust. "Quiet, there it is," Jaqo croaked out in a harsh whisper as his hand gripped tighter around the handle of his phaser. "I don't see anything," said Tor Duva at full voice. "Shhh..." Jaqo was insistant and very irritated with his friend and partner. They had been assigned guard duty in Cargo Bay Gamma, where the Federation Ambassador's ship had been berthed. Tor did not seem to be taking their duties seriously. "You've been seeing shadows ever since we came on shift," Tor said loudly. "Now put that thing back before you accidentally shoot someone." Jaqo took his work too seriously, thought Tor. "I'm telling you, something's there," said Jaqo as he stubbornly kept his weapon at the ready. "I think I saw it move inside the craft." His stomach fluttered as he gazed at the Creme Brulee with a mixture of awe and terror. It was the sleekest and most exciting ship Jaqo had ever seen. Paktaran vessels were designed for function rather than form, while Coalition ships were large and featureless in an attempt to intimidate others while at the same time concealing their technology. Jaqo had never seen a ship designed so asthetically. Yet no matter how stylish and beautiful he perceived the Federation ship to be, it was still very, very alien. "Well, ok, if you insist," said Tor with a smirk. "I'll call for backup while you notify the Prime." Jaqo turned white. "Varden?" he sputtered. "You want me to notify the Benai Prime?" "You heard his orders same as I did. Personally notify him of anything unusual concerning the Federations. I think an intruder on their ship qualifies." Nervousness quickly turned to fear. Of all the aliens he had met, Jaqo was most terrified by the three Benai. Although they were not in command of the ship, they clearly controlled it. And Gowen Varden was the worst of the three. He had eyes that pierced your soul, and a voice that drained your muscles of their ability to move. What if Jaqo was wrong? What if he dragged the Benai Prime away from whatever it was he did when he wasn't stalking prey or frightening small children, and it turned out to be nothing. What if it made the Benai angry? But what if it wasn't nothing? What if the Federation was up to something and he failed to stop it? This was not a chance he could afford to take, no matter how silly he appeared. "Now what are you doing?" asked Tor impatiently. Jaqo had retreated behind a pile of storage canisters. He had set down his phaser in exchange for a large, pneumatic lift which he struggled to drag towards the Creme Brulee. "I have to know for certain," he said mustering a bravery he did not feel. "I'm going to look in the window." Ignoring the sickness in his stomach and the weakness in his knees, he climbed onto the platform and activated the controlls. The lift groaned and jerked suddenly as it came to life. This startled Jaqo and he could not stiffle a surprised scream. Tor laughed. Embarassed and determined, he made the lift climb slowly upward towards the cockpit viewport. It will be ok, he told himself. There's nothing really there. The lift seemed climb slower the closer it got to its target, and after what felt like an eternity, it stopped at full extension slightly below the bottom lip of cockpit. Jaqo stood on tiptoes and cautiously peeked into the alien ship. For the second time, Jaqo screamed. The monster in the Ambassador's shuttle was grotesque, with a squat, hairy body and five apendages. It spotted Jaqo through the viewport and grew aggitated. It opened its mouth wide revealing sharp yellow teeth and a long, blood red tounge that oozed some slimy liquid. Its jaw flailed, and although no sound escaped through the transparent aluminum, Jaqo could feel its gutteral bellow deep inside of him. He stepped back as a reflex and quickly fainted. Inside the Creme Brulee, David's puppy, Shadow, was undaunted. He continued to bark, desperately trying to summon help for his young master who lay near death on the shuttle floor. Amb Moose On the way to Paktar

The Last Word... Or The First. Christopher T. Moose stood in the small observation lounge studying the ship outside the long viewport which comprised the main wall of the lounge. Certainly, there were sleeker and more dramatic silhouettes than that of an old galaxy class starship, but the exterior view of the USS Arcadia always filled him with a mixed feeling of excitement and awe. On this occasion, Moose also felt a touch of déjà vu. He remembered the first time he had seen the Arcadia from this angle. He had been standing in an observation lounge much like this one, freshly minted from Spacefleet Academy and about to begin his first assignment. Had it really been that many years ago? Why was that memory more vivid than yesterday? The ship was slowly growing smaller outside the window instead of larger, but that was the only difference. The emotions swelling in his chest were the same. The others must be feeling similar sentiments, he thought as he surveyed his silent companions in the lounge. All except Terza, of course. The unflappable Trill had cornered one of the ship's stewards and was grilling the young man about which amenities would be available to them on the voyage. The steward was just one of many attendants assigned to the Federation delegates. Moose had already offended many of them by refusing their hospitality. Offended or frightened, he wasn't sure which. Moose had never been comfortable with being pampered. He certainly hadn't demanded it as a ship's Captain. But it was not optional for an Ambassador, accepting service was a mandatory sign of respect towards the giver. He would have to get used to it. It was in this area that Yeoman Bleeth was proving to be as indispensable to him as she had been on the Arcadia. She had an uncanny knack for instinctively knowing what made him squirm, even when he didn't know it himself. She filtered out the minor annoyances while simultaneously navigated him around the serious tests of protocol. She isn't Yeoman Bleeth anymore, he reminded himself. Yeoman was a military designation. Like the others, Yasmine was now a Diplomatic Attache. She approached now with one such test of protocol. He was a pinched, dour looking man who's very presence inspired a heightened level of obsequiousness in the stewards. Moose wouldn't have believed that possible. "Ambassador," she began in a tone designed to remind Moose that she was referring to him. "May I present Gowen Vardon, Benai Prime of the Coalition and our host for the journey to Paktar?" "I trust that your needs have been well attended?" asked Vardon smoothly. His voice was like ice, and it chilled Moose to the marrow. Was this an actual physical reaction or a psychosomatic response to his intonation. Little was known of the Benai, but their telepathic prowess seemed unrivaled in the Federation. Moose steeled his mental defenses, centering his focus until the chill went away and reminding himself not to drop his guard, no matter how plush the surroundings. "Your staff has been most accommodating, Prime Vardon. There should be no need for further discipline." Moose saw Yasmine shudder, recalling the fate of the guards who had detained them too harshly while their credentials were being checked. "Then I am pleased," said Vardon smiling a smile that was not altogether convincing. "Mrs. Moderi seems extremely uncomfortable. I was afraid that as an Axian, she may have experienced some... disrespect from our crew. Axia has still not successfully petitioned for tenure with the Council." "Nor has the Federation, of which Mrs. Moderi is now a citizen. I trust no disrespect will be forthcoming." Veiled threats and innuendo... this part of diplomacy Moose could handle. Moose was very impressed with Rowan. She had only just arrived in Federation space when this delegation was formed, free of her overbearing husband and ready to start a new life. Realizing her worth to the expedition, she volunteered to serve her new government by returning to her old. And considering how many Federation citizens had actually spent time in Coalition space, Moose had hardly been in a position to refuse her. Out of respect for her courage, he vowed silently to keep her safe from her former oppressors, no matter the cost. Vardon smiled, changing the subject before Moose gained too much ground. "I apologize again about the accommodations, Ambassador. I wish we had private suites available for you, but we weren't expecting such a large delegation and have a limited amount of shielded quarters." Moose had been surprised by the large delegation as well. He had assumed he would be traveling alone, perhaps with an aide or two. But Paktar was a three month journey from Federation space, unless you were granted access to the shortcut through the Romulan Empire. Reinforcements would be slow in coming, so all needs had to be anticipated up front. Admiral Atragon insisted on a minimum delegation of seven. Moose added two more. Although his audience with them months ago had been rushed and confused, Moose recalled nine chairs on the Coalition Council. This evened the score. "What do you mean by 'shielded'?" he asked. Vardon smirked at Moose as if he had just asked for the formula of water. "Our method of faster-than-light travel can be a bit... disorienting. Our people are seasoned for it. Yours are not. As our journey progresses, we will have time to prepare other quarters. Moving Mr. Gio to his own room will be our first priority." Moose stiffened. He knew he'd be sharing a room, but with Terza? He wanted to protest, to request someone... anyone else. But Moose didn't dare present anything but a united front towards his hosts. They would exploit any weakness revealed to them. So Moose's issues with the Gio symbiote had to remain private. Vardon had no idea just how awkward it was going to be for them to share such an intimate space. Or did he... "I leave you now to enjoy the view," said Vardon with the same icy formality he always used. "It will be another two hours before you will need to retreat to the safety of your quarters. Until then, please enjoy our hospitality." And with a controlled nod of the head, and a glance that could pierce your soul, Gowan Vardon, Benai Prime of the Coalition, slid off into the bowels of his ship. Moose returned to the long viewport which comprised the main wall of the lounge. The Arcadia still floated peacefully outside, although smaller now than it had been. He scrutinized it like a tourist at the ruins on Risa, barely noticing as a steward presented him with a glass of champagne before scurrying off silently. He had barely had time to say good-bye. Brianna instinctively understood, and he'd had a moment alone with Samantha as he prepared the Creme Brule. But he and Nisha would likely never repair the friendship that had pulled them through those early years. How had he allowed his friend to grow so distant? And he would loose contact with Dana Quest as well, not only leaving friction between them but failing his obligation to his dear friend Kelly to look take care of her son David. He felt he had no choice, but it seemed that duty always demanded he turned his back on those he loved. No wonder he failed with Khiaara, may she rest in peace. No wonder he had failed with everyone he cared about. He hadn't even tried to call his mother. With a flash of blue, the Arcadia fired up it's nacelles and began it's course back to Starbase 331. It grew visibly smaller by the second, like a remedial geometry problem from kindergarten. "If one starship travels at warp 5.6 heading 102 mark 5, and another starts from the same point heading 282 mark 33 at warp 3, how long will it take for them to loose visual contact?" Too soon, he thought. Much, much too soon... Christopher T. Moose Federation Ambassador to Paktar

*Acting* Ensign David J Quest "Stowaway" He hadn't thought it would be so easy; but, finding a hiding place in the Creme Brule was actually a piece of cake. The hard part was slipping past the Captain's Yeoman, who was charged with the loading of the Captain's gear and that of the other's who would be leaving with him. 'Shadow' helped . David made the excuse to the Yeoman that he was looking for Moose to say goodby, while Shadow slipped off and discreetly left a *puppy surprise* in a spot that would most certainly be noticed by someone's olfactory senses rather quickly. When David and Shadow started to leave; having been told the Captain was concluding his farewells on the bridge; it had only taken a moment for Yeoman Bleeth to be drawn away from the shuttle to find the unpleasant *gift* from the dog. In those moments, David and Shadow slipped unnoticed aboard the Creme Brule. Naturally, the pup's act was simply a coincidental call of nature; but David chose to believe that his loyal companion had intentionally aided in his plan to go with Moose; whether Moose or Dana wanted him to or not. Afterall, once they reached their destination, what could be done about it? Moose was the closest thing to a father that David had ever known; and a father wouldn't send his son away......not when he understood how much David wanted to be with him. Both boy and dog were greatly relieved when the Creme Brule landed in the alien ship, and the Captain and the others had debarked for quarters on board. The small space where they had secreted themselves tested both the boy's patience and the puppy's alike....not to mention their bodily controls. David and Shadow unwound themselves from each other, and each took care of immediate needs; David, scrambling into the small *head* on the shuttle; Shadow simple squatting in place and looking toward David with shameful and apologetic eyes. David had made the decision that he and Shadow would make their trip to where ever Moose was going by staying in the shuttle. He knew nothing of the alien ship, and he assumed that no one would be checking the shuttle during the voyage. He knew how to bring minimal power online to allow for use of the little craft's small replicator, and by opening certain venting systems, he could easily use the life support of the big ship for breathing. It was highly unlikely that they would shut down lifesupport and gravity to the shuttle bay, where David had seen many crewmembers working on other types of small craft belonging to the the big alien starship. And, the activity in the shuttle bay would also insure against any one on the ship's bridge from detecting the small power surges when David and Shadow required anything from the replicator. David was in the cat bird's seat. The two stowaways had barely completed their first meal when David felt a familiar vibration that made it's way all the way to the deck plates of the Creme Brule. The alien starship was preparing to go into warp drive. He grinned with excitement and scratched the top of the puppy's head; right around the base of the small horn in the dog's forehead; right where Shadow liked it. "This is it boy!" Feeling his master's excitement, Shadow barked and began a little puppy dance; tail wagging furiously. David fought down the nearly uncontrolable desire to reach out with his mind and touch Moose. He not only knew that Moose trusted him never to do that; but he was not sure if there were any other telepaths aboard the ship, and he did not wish to give himself away; not while they were still so close to the Arcadia, and the possibility of making him go back. Instead, he just took a deep breath and held it while the great ship leaped into warp drive. The pain that blasted through his skull brought forth an agonizing scream......not from his lips........from his tortured mind. ...............................

-=/\=- ...It's Just See You Later SD 10105.15 "What choice do I have? I've been asked to represent the Federation to the greatest threat we've faced in decades. You've seen their technology. I have to do what I can to keep them in check." "You heard the Cap...The Ambassador." "Moose... you're leaving?" "For awhile. Take care of my ship?" There was an air of unreality on the bridge as all around them, crewmembers came to attention and slowly moved to offer Moose a salute, that ancient and traditional gesture of respect. Samantha felt so distant from the entire event; even Ziggy, without whose arm she might have just plopped down to sit on the floor, seemed to be on the other side of a thick haze, an emotional barrier that made Sam feel like she was navigating through space without sensors. Moose was leaving the Arcadia. He had accepted the appointment as Ambassador to the Coalition, which of course meant that he would have to stay where the Coalition was. Ambassador Moose exchanged handshakes with crewmembers, ignoring the impatient sighs from the Coalition representatives who had come to offer him the position. Samantha, unconsciously leaning more and more heavily on Ziggy, tried to sort out all the feelings that were hurtling through her. She would kill for a dose of the psyrillamine right now, to quiet the rush of thoughts and feelings that were crowding mercilessly into her mind. She hadn't felt this... out of control, in a while, not since the Rothschild incident. First of all, it was an absolute disgrace that she was crying -- on the bridge, in uniform! After all, the man wasn't dying, he had simply accepted a new post, one that would take him away from the ship on which Samantha served. He wasn't even leaving the Fleet -- just moving to a different branch of it. Secondly, she was twenty-two years old, not two. She had grown up in the fleet; she knew that change and movement were par for the course in this lifestyle. And it wasn't like she'd never see him again -- it would just take a bit of doing, the same way it did to arrange visits with any other member of her family, now that she had a career and a life of her own. So why did it hurt so much, that he was leaving? She didn't have time to analyze that curious sense of loss, that sharp pinch of panic at the thought of him leaving, because the impatient Coalition reps finally persuaded Moose that it was, indeed, time for them to go -- and for him to leave with them. The panic started to rise in the back of Sam's throat, a fluttery desperate feeling. Moose bade a final farewell to the crew on the bridge, and turned to the turbolift, but Sam felt like her feet were glued to the floor, she couldn't move, couldn't make a sound. And at the door of the turbolift slid open, Ambassador Moose turned to Samantha. "Commander Riker -- walk with me." She felt almost giddy, like a child allowed to sit at the grown-up's table. She shook loose of Ziggy's hold, the fickle child given leave to play with her favorite uncle, and moved to stand silently by Moose's side. Jeron Moset and Melora were chatting quietly with each other, addressing an occasional remark to Moose, who would nod or give a brief answer in response to an interrogatory. Samantha simply stood by Moose, staring at his hands, then at his face, then back at his hands, as if she could memorize every detail about him. "So does this mean that things have improved between you and Mr. Stardust?" Samantha smiled, moved easily out of her head and into the turbolift. "No. We have spoken, though... has Ziggy told you anything about the time he spent off the Arc?" "Such as?" "Such as, Thomas Riker is still alive. And he has a daughter, to whom I apparently bear a striking resemblance." Moose turned to her, one eyebrow raised. "He met them?" "Just her, I think. I don't even know her name." Before Moose could respond, the turbolift doors slid open, and Samantha followed Moose down the corridor to the shuttle bay, where the Crème Brulée sat waiting for her passengers. "We will ride aboard with you, and will take our shuttle in tow," Jeron Moset announced imperiously, and without waiting for Moose's leave, ushered Melora onboard before he climbed in himself. Moose and Sam watched their retreating backs; while Sam thought it was the height of impudence, Moose's face was unreadable. And then Moose and Sam were alone. "Well." "Well." Samantha shuffled her feet. "I'm going to miss you, Moose." "I'm not leaving your life, Samantha -- just the ship." "I know." "I'll miss you too." "We'll stay in touch, though, right?" "Of course we will." Sam grinned. "Just think -- when you have Ambassador stuff with the other Federation Ambassadors, you'll get to see Aunt Lwaxana." "Lwaxana Troi is a lovely woman. You just don't like her because she can see right through you." "And you just *like* her because she finds it amusing to tell you what she sees." Moose chuckled, Sam's heart lurched, and before she could think about it, Samantha wrapped her arms around him. "I love you, Moose." Moose said nothing, but tightened his arms around Samantha in response. They stood, quietly, for a moment. Then Moose kissed her, gently, on the top of the head before he released her and, without turning back, boarded the shuttle Crème Brulée. Samantha stood staring out the bay doors until long after the shuttle had dropped out of sensor range. Lt Cdr D Samantha Riker USS Arcadia NCC-1742-D