DrDMatthews

We were deferential to “inviolates” .......... Hmm....."inviolates"........ I really like that word. :( I must tell you, as I read the article Fred so kindly posted (where does you guys get all this stuff?) I found myself giggling. Honestly, one would think this was.....real. I mean, look at the reaction to one little picture. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were discussing a real space vehicle. Oh...I'm sorry. I momentarily forgot. It IS real, isn't it. Sorry...didn't mean to offend anyone. I'm older now and you know what they say...the memory is the first thing to go. Believe me, it's true. :P

Hey Guy! Hope everything works out okay. Take care of yourself and know that we're all pulling for you.

I agree the "Classic Mutt" would be the best choice but.....one of the girls is allergic to dogs. That said, walk through any shelter and you'll find a wide variety of pure breed dogs. Some of them are bound to be hypoallergenic. Shih Tzus, for example, are relatively hypoallergenic and they don't shed. Most Shih Tzus you see in pictures have long hair and that requires a lot of grooming. I don't think the First Family would have any trouble paying for a groomer but they could always do what we do with ours.....keep the hair short....very short. I prefer the short hair. You can actually see the dog's face and they are really, really cute. Though I must confess, they can rattle the windows with their snoring. I'm pretty sure you could find a Shih Tzu in a shelter....maybe not a young puppy but a younger adult. We found ours running down a road near our house. Someone dumped her....and we live in a VERY rural area. She's a real sweetie and pretty too! (But man....does she snore!) So I vote for the Shih Tzu.

Sorry, I know it's painful. I just came to terms with this sad fact about a year ago. I still have relapses but I'm doing much better these days. :P

I would dare say I'm probably one of the "oldest" players in STSF. I was in my teens on September 8, 1966. I vividly recall the premier of Star Trek and was glued to the tube for just about every episode until they moved the show from Thursday to Friday nights. So, it's fair to say I've been a "Trekkie" for the better part of my life and TOS is definitely MY Star Trek. That said, I agree with Shane. It's time to move on. December, 1979....Star Trek: The Motion Picture. I could hardly wait. Same actors recreating the same characters but a lot had changed. For me, the best part of that movie was the big reveal of the Enterprise. And let me tell you....that was NOT the same Enterprise we saw in the TV show. It was familiar yet very different....modern and updated and the detail was mind blowing. (Remember, it was 1979.) I don't know about you guys but I LOVED it and still do. And there were more changes to come. Look what happened to the uniforms in ST II and beyond. That was a change for the better and I don't recall many complaints. We accepted it and moved on. Truth be told, very few current fans date back to TOS. Most Trek fans today got hooked watching TNG, DS9 or Voyager. And those versions of Trek were far removed from TOS. That's especially true of DS9 and Voyager. As far as Enterprise is concerned, I'm not sure it brought many fans into the fold. The show was canceled very soon after they finally assembled a decent team of writers. I think Enterprise would have become a lot more popular if they'd given those writers another year. The bottom line - the franchise is in big trouble. The fan base is shrinking. We should be down on our knees, thanking God somebody has been given the opportunity to attempt a resurrection. I'm pleased they've chosen to rekindle interest in Trek through a TOS oriented movie. I think the powers in charge of this project have worked hard to maintain a degree of continuity out of respect for us long time fans. But they are also realistic about what is necessary for the movie to succeed. We, the fans.....especially those of us who have been faithful followers for 30 plus years.... have to face facts. The 60s are long gone. So are the 70s and 80s. The only way to attract new fans is to reel them in with the most sophisticated technology available. If that means tweaking the "1701" then I say go for it. Hopefully, millions of people who have never seen Star Trek before will go to this movie. A lot is hanging in the balance. If this flops, we'll probably never see another movie and you can forget about anymore TV shows. We can nitpick until the cows come home but Shane is absolutely right.....new fans won't be attracted by a 1960s style starship....maybe not even a 1980s style starship. Some changes are needed in order to survive. And I want Trek to survive. And I'll shut-up now. ::tosses a couple of coins into the bucket::

Oh no.....he isn't cute and cuddly....nope....not at all.

Oh man.....isn't she pretty!!!! :)

Deb Matthews was almost grateful for the distraction. She didn't wish harm to anyone but she was a bit relieved to have something else to worry about.....something she might have some control over. As for Reaent's current mission, that was another story altogether. She had absolutely nothing to say about it, not that it would have accomplished anything if she had. Their orders bordered on absurd, not to mention criminal. She was forced to bite her tongue more than once during senior staff briefings. If she'd spoken her mind she would probably have been expelled from the room. Poor Aidan....she'd vented her frustrations in private and he'd borne the brunt of her ire. He was probably glad to be on the bridge while she remained nineteen decks below in Sickbay. There had been no further updates since the ship crossed into the neutral zone disguised as an asteroid. Deb was determined not to call upstairs to ask what was going on. They had enough problems without her bugging them. Besides, she now had a new mystery to work on. It would probably keep her busy for awhile. Shortly after the holoemitters were powered up, an Andorian crewman reported to Sickbay complaining of nausea, dizziness and an ugly rash. Shortly after arriving, he emptied his stomach on the floor, the contents of which were carefully examined. In addition, he was subjected to every scan they could think of. Poor Lieutenant Darel was terribly ill....there was no denying that, but they couldn't determine the cause. They finally resorted to drawing blood for an even more detailed analysis. About that time, the holoemitters were disengaged and the patient experienced what could only be called a miraculous healing. Even the rash stated to disappear. It was truly peculiar. Because they were unable to diagnose the cause of his sudden illness, the medical staff opted to keep Darel in Sickbay, at least for a while. He was finally released a couple of hours later after his bloodwork indicated he was not infected with anything contagious. And then Merina happened to mention that she experienced a little nausea after the holoemitters were activated. Since then, they had conducted an unofficial survey of the entire medical staff. Most humanoid species reported no adverse affects while the holoemitters were up and running. However, the one Caitian, one Bolian and two Andorian members of the staff admitted to upset stomachs, headaches and dizziness, although none of them were as seriously ill as Darel. All claimed their symptoms disappeared within minutes after the holoemitters were shut down. It was a safe bet other Caitian, Bolian and Andorian members of the crew also experienced similar symptoms. They just weren't serious enough to force them into Sickbay. So the hunt was on. Deb wanted to know if there was a connection between the holoemitters and the sudden onset of these symptoms. Why did it appear only certain species were affected? Would the symptoms have worsened the longer the holoemitters were engaged? And, would extended use of the holoemitters eventually sicken the remainder of the crew as well? Deb focused on the first question. It appeared the Caitians, Bolians and Andorians had an allergic reaction to the holoemitters. But why? What was it about their physiology that made them susceptible? She had two or three teams working on that problem. She had to give them time to come up with at least a theory. Glancing out the door of her office, she was again sorely tempted to contact the bridge for an update. She managed to resist the urge. Instead, she got up and walked out into the main Sickbay. Maybe, just maybe one of the teams had come up with something. She certainly hoped so. Anything to keep her mind off their latest venture into the abusrd.

She hunkered down in her office determined to keep busy at any cost. But it was proving to be more difficult than she originally anticipated. For one thing, Sickbay was ready and had been for days. Further inspections would be redundant not to mention demoralizing for the staff. They were among the best in the fleet. They knew their jobs and she trusted them implicitly. She had no desire to imply otherwise. So, for now, she would stay out of their way and allow them to concentrate on preparing for a large scale emergency situation. And Deborah Matthews was pretty sure they were heading into a "large scale emergency" situation. The official notification had just come down from the bridge. Reaent had crossed into the Romulan neutral zone disguised as a huge rock courtesy of the ship's holoemitters. Initially, there were serious concerns about power utilization for this particular plan. There were fears it would require so much energy, every system but life support would have to be diverted to the holoemitters. It appeared Aaron and his team of engineers had managed to resolve that issue. One way or the other, the holoemitters were now projecting an image of an ungainly asteroid slowly meandering into the neutral zone. She wondered how often such a thing happened in this area of space. Hopefully, asteroids were fairly common and the Romulans wouldn't bother inspecting this one too closely. She had to given the team credit. It was a very imaginative plan. But she didn't like it. It left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. She much preferred one of the alternative ideas, namely the installation of a home made cloaking device. The least they could have done was have a cloak standing by in case the holoemitters failed. But it wasn't her call. She voiced her opinions following the staff meeting but the Captain seemed overly concerned about treaty violations. So he decided the Reaent should enter the neutral zone dressed like a rock. And it was his call. Deb tossed her stylus onto the desk and watched it spin its way off the far edge. Crossing her arms in front of her, she leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling feeling both weary and apprehensive. It would take a miracle to keep them from getting caught. And what would they do when that happened? Would they really blame their intrusion into the neutral zone on a malfunctioning navigational system? The Romulans would surely find that amusing. They would probably laugh themselves silly as they blew Reaent into a zillion little pieces. As far as Deb was concerned, there was something far worse than total destruction and that was being taken prisoner by the Romulans. She'd heard many of the horror stories. Even though most were liberally embellished, there was a grain of truth in all of those tales. And the truth wasn't pretty. She preferred a zillion little pieces to becoming a Romulan prisoner. She got up and walked around the desk. It took a minute to locate the wayward stylus and as she searched for it, she reminded herself to think positively. There was a chance they would successfully pull off this subterfuge. Miracles happened every day, didn't they. Retrieving the stylus, she returned to her chair and activated another of the padds neatly stacked in front of her. Drawing a deep breath, she forced herself to focus on the report. "Stay occupied," she mumbled. "Worrying about it won't change a thing." All she could do for now was believe the Captain knew what he was doing and if he didn't, hope she would have moment to say good-bye to her husband before the end came.

I remember those rumors! :) I think there may have been some truth to them.

Thanks Admiral. The picture really brought back memories.....and made me feel like an antique at the same time. :)

A log by Commander Ridire and Dr. Matthews.....takes place sometime before the recall from Risa. Aidan is waiting a bit impatiently in the living room of the cabin they were staying in on Risa. He considers poking his head into the kitchen and chiding Deb for taking her time with getting the food for the picnic ready. She had insisted on handling it herself, saying something about it was her turn. Sighing, he steps over to the piano tucked in a corner and sits down on the bench that's set before it. Idly he starts playing it as he waits. He's not playing any particular song, just whatever comes to him. For some reason, it was Aidan who usually planned the menus and prepared the lunches, dinners and impromptu picnics. But not this time. Deb was determined to take charge of this picnic and she wanted to insure it would be something special. Last night, she spent over an hour choosing the menu. This morning, she'd spent another two hours programing the replicator to accurately reproduce the various dishes to her exact specifications. So far, she was pleased with the results. And, she was just about finished. None too soon either. Her husband had been ready to go for hours. Deb carefully placed the plates, cutlery and napkins into one of the two large baskets. Next came the glasses and the Le Fleur Pinot Noir along a couple of bottles of water. She closed the lid and then peeked inside basket number two....the one containing most of the food. They would start with French cambemert with crackers and goat cheese with fresh thyme, Jamaican honey, and orange zest. That would feast on garbanzo bean salad, Oriental sesame asparagus and chilled beef tenderloin with Sause Bearnaise. There was a blueberry picnic cake for dessert but Deb had a feeling they would probably bring that home with them. As she carefully carried the baskets toward the living room, she stopped as the sound of music drifted through the small cottage. Someone was playing the piano. It had to be Aidan. There was no one else in the bungalow. She remained still for a moment, wondering how many other surprises her husband had up his sleeve. She'd known Aidan for years. She was now married to this man yet she had no idea he could play the piano. She sat both picnic baskets down near the front door and quietly walked up behind him as he concentrated on the faded white keys of the well used piano. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she leaned over to kiss his cheek. "You never told me you could play," she said softly. "I had no idea you were so talented." Aidan leans back against her and murmurs, "You never asked. Besides, a man should not let his wife know all his secrets seven months into a marriage. He has to keep her interested somehow after all." As he says the last, his voice takes on a teasing tone. He stops playing the piano and draws the cover over the keys. Slipping out of her arms, he stands and then turns and leans in for a quick kiss. "But I'll let you in on another talent of mine, I also know how to paint. I'm no Monet but I'm pretty good at it still. Both that talent and my ability to play the piano you can thank my mom for. She was rather insistent that I have interests besides academics and sports." He steps over to where she left the two baskets and he picks up the heavier of the two. Reaching a hand towards Deb he smiles and asks, "Shall we go?" For a moment, Deb stood beside the piano and stared at Aidan. She wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. She finally joined him by the door, wondering what other surprises he had up his sleeve. "Yes," she quipped lightly, picking up the other basket. "I suppose we should go." She slipped her hand into his as they walked through the door and out to the path leading to the picnic site. They were a short distance from the bungalow when Deb looked up at her husband. "By painting," she began slowly. "I assume you mean something other than....walls." He chuckles softly and says, "Well, I can do those too. But meant actual paintings. Only done landscapes before, mainly of home. A castle or two. I tried painting a starship once but wasn't quite satisfied with the results. Didn't look...well graceful enough for what I was trying to do." He guides her in the direction of the spot they were overlooking the lake the day before. He glances sidelong at her and asks, "I trust that overlook from yesterday will do for a picnic spot? And what did you pack in here? Feels like you put in half a refrigerator's worth of food." He smirks briefly. "And what hidden talents do you have, love, that I haven't discovered yet? I mean as long as we're on the subject...." "Oh great!," thought Deb silently. "I've unwittingly married into an artistic family. What will Aidan think when he finds out I can't draw a straight line with a ruler." She glanced at the two picnic baskets and . "That site we saw yesterday is perfect," she said with a slight grin. "And these baskets contain the ingredients for an extraordinary gourmet picnic. And that's all I'm going to tell you. Other than I'm sure you'll enjoy it...or at least, I hope you do." As she spoke, Deb pondered Aidan's question about her hidden talents. She certainly wasn't a painter and she'd never had the opportunity to learn how to play a musical instrument. She wasn't sure she would be any good at anyway. She did enjoy cooking and really loved to bake. But she hadn't been able to practice those skills in so many years, she wasn't sure she still possessed them. And did crocheting require talent? She glanced at Aidan and shrugged. "I'm not sure I have any hidden talents," she finally admitted. "I think most of my talents, if that's what you choose to call them are....obvious." He chuckles softly. "Well, there is your talent for coming up with things to do. Case in point that birthday dinner you came up for me last year. And this picnic here. And your talent at relaxing me. As well as you're a very good dancer. And I'm sure I'm going to discover when we go shopping that you have a talent for making me carry a bunch of boxes. Not that I mind playing your butler." He smirks briefly as he says the last. He glances at her and then murmurs, "I wonder if you have a talent as a model." "Talent has nothing to do with shopping," announced Deb with feigned pride. "That's a skill...a learned skill that you must practice on a regular basis until you become.....proficient at it." She glanced at her handsome husband and smiled mischievously. "And I haven't had the opportunity to practice in over six months. So I have to make up for lost time. As for modeling, well.....that might require talent." He smirks at her, "Well, while you are practicing your shopping skill do keep in mind that it would not be a good idea to make me throw out my back by asking me to carry dozens of boxes for you. Would be a bad idea to confine me to bed for the duration of this vacation. And as for modeling...well it just means having the ability to sit or keep a pose." "You mean....sit still for more than a couple of minutes?" she asked in mock surprise. "Nope," she continued, shaking her head slowly. "I definitely don't possess that....talent....or skill. But I am....compassionate. When we go shopping, I won't make you carry dozens of boxes...even though you do it so well." She looked up at him and grinned. "I'll restrain myself a bit....maybe just nine or ten this time." They reach their destination and he helps her lay out the picnic. As he helps with the food he chuckles softly. "Well, when you said a gourmet picnic you sure weren't kidding." Deb smiled broadly. "I put some thought into it," she replied. "I hope you brought an appetite. We need to eat it all. I would rather not carry anything back." He pours two glasses of the wine then offers one to her. He says teasingly, "Oh, I think I brought my appetite with me. Besides, if we have anything left, isn't carrying stuff what you keep me around for?" She burst out laughing as she accepted the glass. "You are a champion at carrying stuff," she chuckled, lifting the glass slightly. "But trust, me....you're a champion at other things as well. So, no, carrying stuff isn't why I keep you around....at least, it's not the primary reason" "Oh good, because I'd hate to think I was merely a servant. Though I am a bit curious as to what is the primary reason you keep me around...as well as your other reasons." He takes a sip of his wine as he watches her curiously. His question surprised her a little. Granted, he asked it in a light hearted manner but she could tell from the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes that he was serious. He wasn't looking for a sassy comment. Aidan wanted an honest answer. She knew what she wanted to tell him. The only question was, where to begin. It would take hours for her to list all of the reasons why she "kept him around." She found a place to set down her glass and then met his gaze, smiling warmly. Leaning over, she gave him a tender kiss on the cheek then covered his hand with hers. "I love you, " she whispered softly. "And I love the way you love me." She shrugged her shoulders slightly and glanced around at the serene countryside. "I don't know how it happened," she continued, again focusing on her husband. "But you've become such an integral part of me, I don't think I could continue to breathe without you." He smiles and kisses her gently. Breaking it off, he murmurs "And I knew all that. Still, it's nice hearing it occasionally. And I live and breathe for you, my love." He kisses her warmly, letting it linger for a minute. Ending it he leans back and glances down at the food. "Perhaps we should see to the food...." Deb studied him for a long moment. It had only taken a few seconds but she'd nearly forgotten about their picnic lunch. She leaned back with a nod, picked up her plate and dribbled a spoonful of Sause Bearnaise over the tenderolin. "Yes," she replied softly with a knowing grin. "We should see to the food." He nods as he helps himself to some of the French cambemert. He catches her grin out of the corner of his eyes. He chuckles softly and says quietly, "Before we move our attention on to other things that can perhaps wait." She carefully lifted a couple of asparagus into her plate before glancing at her husband with a mischievous smile. "I agree," she replied coyly. "Dessert should always come after the meal."

They have a magic mirror that allows them to see everything. :) Seriously, they keep track....they really do. I'm pretty sure they have their own "private" message boards accessible only to the GMs. And I know of a player on one of my advanced sims who got into trouble because of bad behavior during a couple of Academies. This happened long after they graduated. So the GMs definitely keep track of what's going and who's doing what. In other words....mind your manners. :rolleyes:

They involve death and destruction.....and that's not "pure speculation."

My dear Mr. Chubbs, You will never know how tasty......no.....you'll never know. :ph34r:

::still laughing:: Give me a moment....just watched the teaser.... :ph34r: Okay...now that I've stopped laughing, I want you all to know.... I ain't going near that Academy while those dudes are back in town! :P

The "dream" always comes first. Isn't it amazing how reality is catching up to so many of the dreams hatched in the wonderful world of Star Trek.

Hmm.....the secret potion is working. :lol:

Hey Fred! Just wanted to remind you......you're getting older. You're not there yet but you're heading in the right direction. Just remember, it beats the alternative. ;)

I tend to agree with Kallah on this one. Of course, it's up to the GMs running the sim, but I think it would be wiser for "cannon" to remain specific to each sim. If a couple of games want to use cross-sim continuity, fine. But for the most part, players on the current rosters should have the latitude to determine the circumstances behind their character's posting to the ship/station as long as the character's ethnicity, background, etc are approved by the GM. It strikes me as a little unfair to insist a player assume a role that has predetermined parameters courtesy of someone who isn't even playing on that particular game. ::looks around for the penny jar and tosses in her 2 cents::

Debbie was practically breathless by the time she reached the secluded training room where Aidan Ridire was hidden away. Her head pounded and she impulsively rubbed her temples as she approached the security officers standing guard just outside. Aaron Scherer was just leaving. The CMO breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It appeared she'd arrived in time. "Hold on," she whispered to Aaron as she rushed past him and into the room. "I think you need to hear this." She ignored his question about what exactly she wanted him to hear and hurried to Aidan's bedside. "I have news from the morgue," she said, stepping past Brian Smith. "Very puzzling news." She glanced at her audience of three then took another step closer to Aidan. She was afraid he might try to sit up once he heard what she had to say. Deb wanted to insure that didn't happen. She rested one hand on his shoulder while again making eye contact with Smith and Scherer. They were both staring at her intently. "I assigned Merina and Petty Officer Ljungberg to conduct the Captain's autopsy," she began, taking a quick look at Aidan. "They both detected an energy signal. It was coming directly from the body. They requested computer verification. So did I. It appears the signal's origin is known but the information is classified." Deb turned a bit and looked directly at Aidan, a small grin tugging at her lips. "And the deceased shows no evidence of Denton's Syndrome." Aaron was the first to pipe up. "Wait Doctor, are you trying to imply what I think your trying to imply?" he asked, his face showing the deep thought he was going through and the thousands of questions he had in his mind. "Could he really be, I mean he couldn't unless, " he stopped himself, shaking his head before letting other words slip through. " Unless who ever is in the morgue isn't the captain, right and if he isn't who is he?" Aidan closes his eyes for a few seconds, giving himself time to process this new piece of information. Finally he opens his eyes and glances up at Deb before asking, "How high a classification does that signal origin have?" Deb shook her head slightly. "I'm not sure about that. But it won't take much to find out." She nodded toward the computer console at the small workstation. "You're the ranking officer here. Why don't you ask." Aidan shifts his attention to Aaron first. "I had the Doctor check the Captain's body because well...frankly I was suspicious of how someone got into the Ready Room within at most a couple minutes after Dr. Matthews left it and got out again after stabbing the Captain without being seen. Now unless there was some trick done with the transporters, which is admittedly possible and something I want you to check for, then a possible answer is that no one got into the Captain's ready room....no one who wasn't already there and only the Captain was there. Which raised the interesting possibility that the Captain stabbed himself. Now admittedly, I did have an operational bias at work here....I did not and do not believe that Dr. Matthews stabbed the Captain. So we're also left with the possibility that isn't the Captain's that is laying in the morgue. In which case, I want that body under as much stasis and security as you can manage, Doctor." "I'll ask Schawnsee for....." Deb stopped abruptly. For a moment, she'd forgotten...forgotten the Security Chief was among those lost when Lieutenant Murray vented the cargo bay. "I'll take care of it," she quickly added, activating the computer console. Brian Smith seemed to agree. "Our shields were down for quite some time, and we were also transporting away teams. There's no question that after the away teams went down, it wasn't our Captain that we beamed back up. I'll have Chief Wrox check her logs. Maybe we'll find our answer." He turned to the Commander. "But first," he continued. "Lets see what the computer thinks." Aidan glances at Smith for a second. "Have the transporter logs checked on all people that were on the away team. And go back through internal sensor logs to check on Mr. Murray and the person that barged into Sickbay and shot the...Captain." Aidan shakes his head slightly and glances at the computer workstation before saying, "Computer, using my authorization access the information regarding the energy signal found coming from the Captain's body."

Rules were rules. And these rules could not be ignored. Whenever a sentient being died unexpectedly on a Federation ship, Starfleet required a full autopsy complete with a detailed report confirming the deceased's identity as well as the cause of death. Autopsies were never pleasant but some were worse than others. For Deb, the necropsy on Captain Michaels was particularly distasteful. It had been hours since his murder but she still had difficulty accepting the fact he was gone. To add insult to injury, she had been on the bridge when he was stricken. Yet, she wasn't able to assist him. She allowed Brian Smith and Petty Officer Ljungberg to provide his medical care because she knew she was a suspect in his stabbing. She continued to question her motives while wading through the ever rising pool of guilt threatening to drown her. After the Captain's murder, she debated about whether or not to perform the autopsy. She truly believed it was her responsibility. She owed it to Fred Michaels....it was the least she could do for him. But, once again, she'd backed away to avoid any perception of misconduct. Instead, she assigned the task to Merina. Simon Ljungberg would assist. And now, this bizarre saga had taken another peculiar twist. While Merina and Simon conducted the autopsy, the CMO was with Aidan Ridire, Brian Smith and Aaron Scherer. The Reaent was in serious trouble. Ridire was bedridden but he was also the most experienced command officer aboard. He needed to work closely with Smith and Scherer to insure the safety of the ship and crew. Merina contacted Deb shortly after she and Simon started the autopsy. The Caitian needed to speak to the CMO...it was important. As Deb made her way to the morgue, she refused to speculate on what was so pressing, Merina had to call her out of an urgent meeting. The Captain was dead. All they needed to do was confirm his identity and the exact cause of death. She was totally unprepared for the news. The body in the morgue was emitting a peculiar energy signal. How could a dead body do such a thing? Merina and Simon followed standard procedure. They had the computer analyze the signal. The computer recognized it but refused to identify it's origin. That information was classified. As if that wasn't eerie enough, the body exhibited no trace of Denton's Syndrome. Yet, it was a well documented fact the Captain suffered with the incurable disease for at least three years. Deb looked hard at the body with it's head so grotesquely mangled. "This isn't the Captain," she thought silently. "This is an imposter.....a perfect replica.....too perfect." She'd quickly ordered Merina and Simon to go over the body with a fine tooth comb. She needed to know everything about it....everything! And then she bolted from the morgue, hurrying back to the small, secluded room where Aidan lay recovering, hoping she would get there before Brian and Aaron left.

Deb Matthews rubbed her temples. She had a pounding headache and she'd certainly earned it. The day started off badly enough with the Captain ordering the 'saboteur' transferred to the brig. The CMO felt no sympathy for the man but she did have an ethical responsibility to him as a patient. He was badly injured and required prolonged medical treatment. Moving him to the brig was practically a death sentence. She'd taken her case directly to the Captain fully expecting a battle royal. Much to her surprise, he'd invited her into his Ready Room where he'd actually listened to what she had to say. Michaels agreed to allow the 'saboteur' to return to Sickbay but only after the Chief Engineer personally inspected and guaranteed the veracity of the medical unit's security software and hardware. The CMO left the Ready Room feeling like she'd scored a small victory, in spite of the Captain's arrogant remark about her publicly questioning his authority. Debbie never challenged the Captain's authority but she did make it clear she disagreed with his decision to move the prisoner. For a moment, she was tempted to press the issue but quickly decided not to. She would wage that battle another day. For now, she would be content with garnering permission to transfer the critically injured saboteur back to Sickbay. Her victory was short lived. Within two minutes after leaving the Ready Room, the Captain crawled onto the bridge, a knife wedged into his abdomen. He was incoherent....rattling on about a saboteur and arresting someone. And the only name he mentioned was Deb's. In the blink of an eye, she was the prime suspect in the stabbing of Fred Michaels. Four hours later, while on life support in Sickbay, an unknown assailant burst into the medical facility and murdered the Captain along with the still unidentified saboteur. He also managed to wound Merina and Jontiles Shamor among others. Minutes later, Lieutenant Wimbley Murray shot the XO at point blank range. By the grace of God, Aidan survived. But a short time later, Murray vented the cargo bay killing himself and nineteen others. By the time her husband was out of surgery, Deb was suffering from an acute case of paranoia and she wasn't alone. The Reaent was at full stop and on red alert. All personnel who were not on duty were required to remain in their quarters. The CMO issued orders that her staff was not to leave Sickbay or their quarters unescorted. It simply wasn't safe to move about the ship alone. None of it made any sense. It was as though the ship had been possessed by something so evil Deb was unable to comprehend it. But as strange as the last several hours had been, this latest development was even more bizarre. Maybe....just maybe....the Captain was alive. -

A joint log by Commander Ridire and Dr. Matthews She sat on a stool beside the lone biobed, her slender fingers gently caressing her husband's hand. It was dark. She had turned off the work light a short time ago. For several minutes, she watched in somber silence as the rhythmic glow of the monitors cast faint shadows across the floor of the small training room. She finally closed her eyes and rested her head on Aidan's shoulder, thanking God he'd survived. For many others, she offered a different type of prayer. It had been a little over eight hours since the Captain was stabbed.....four hours since he was killed during a brazen attack on Sickbay by an unknown assailant....four hours since Commander Ridire was shot at point blank range by First Lieutenant Murray....one of their own......a security officer who was manning the tactical station on the bridge. A few minutes later, Murray wounded the CSCI but fortunately, Brian's injury was relatively minor. Aidan came out of surgery exactly sixty-seven minutes ago and during those sixty-seven minutes, another twenty members of the crew had been killed. Deb wondered how so much could have gone so wrong in such a short period of time. Lieutenant Murray was among the casualties. The details remained unclear but it appeared Mr. Murray committed suicide. He hunkered down in the cargo bay after shooting Ridire and Smith. The preliminary report indicated he was able initiate an emergency venting of the cargo bay while overriding the warning protocols. He and nineteen others lost their lives. Among the dead were Kat Schawnsee and Jontiles Shamor. Kat was the ship's Chief of Security and newly married to John Angeliz, a pilot attached to the Reaent's fighter wing. Lieutenant Angeliz was also lost when the cargo bay doors opened without warning. Deb had known Shamor for longer than she cared to think about. The Zemun had cheated death for centuries. If he had to die, it should have been in a glorious battle....not like this....not sucked out into space by a coward who chose death rather than face the consequences of his actions. Those actions still puzzled Debbie. Murray was a long time member of the crew....an exemplary officer. There were nothing but positive remarks in his personnel file....not a single disciplinary action of any kind. Yet, he attempted to murder the XO and he did so in front of numerous witnesses. Was he also involved with the Captain's death? If so, did he act alone or were there other conspirators aboard masquerading as crewmen? Deb tended to believe there were others involved. But whether or not they were actually members of the crew remained to be seen. One way or the other, she seriously regretted she wouldn't be able to have a nice, quiet chat with Mr. Wimbley Murray. The events of the last few hours had badly shaken the crew. To add insult to injury, Deb heard disturbing rumors about an altercation on the bridge between Lieutenant Commanders Smith and Scherer. And if she'd heard about it, she could guarantee ninety percent of the crew were aware of it as well. Deb wasn't sure what happened. The grapevine was notorious for turning mole hills into mountains. But if Aaron had actually pulled a phaser on Brian and threatened to shoot him..... the idea was so outrageous she refused to believe it. At the same time, she fully intended to ask a few more questions and if it was true, she wouldn't hesitate to ream both of them. There was another, more personal concern. How would she tell Aidan about all that had happened since he was hospitalized? And when should she tell him? Should they give him a couple of days to recuperate or was it necessary to brief him immediately? She was quietly debating those questions when she felt his fingers tighten around hers. Deb lifted her head and smiled. Aidan's eyes were still closed but she could tell he was coming around. She leaned closer and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Aidan," she whispered softly. "You're fine...or you will be in a few days." She really didn't expect him to respond. But she knew he could probably hear her and she wanted to reassure him that he would be okay. She was pleasantly surprised when he actually opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at her. Aidan felt incredibly groggy as he opened his eyes and more then a little out of it. It's seeing Deb there next to him that starts chasing away the fog. Slowly he leans up on his side, intending to bring his free hand up to brush against her face. His strength falters and he settles back against the biobed with a tired groan. He squeezes her hand again and murmurs, "Right angel to wake up to...but very wrong bed." "Be still," whispered Debbie, reaching over to straighten his blanket. "If you behave yourself, you might find your way into the 'right' bed in a couple of days. But if you're naughty, you'll be stuck in this one for a while." He sighs, "It's easier to be still, love, if I was in the bed I'm most comfortable with and not have to worry about rolling off accidentally. You do have to admit these biobeds of yours are not exactly on the expansive side. And frankly...I really want your touch right now. But very well, doctor's orders." He sighs again and closes his eyes. He lays there quietly for a few minutes as his mind inexorably starts recalling everything that's happened. He glances at Deb and asks "How dark is the nightmare?" The question took her by surprise. She'd expected him to ask but not this soon. He'd been out of surgery for just over an hour. It was much too early for him to start worrying about the ship. Besides, she had yet to figure out exactly how much she should tell him. Deb tried her best to maintain a placid expression while she decided how to answer Aidan's question. She wanted to assure him everything was okay....but things weren't okay....not even close. To suggest otherwise would be a lie. Perhaps, at this point in time, it was best if she was less than honest with him. At the same time, she knew the Reaent was in serious trouble. Even hospitalized, Aidan was a valuable asset. With the Captain dead, they needed his expertise more than ever. That would be especially true if there was any accuracy to the rumors she heard about Smith and Scherer. "Murray is dead," she replied, having decided to share a few of the details with him. "It was an apparent suicide." She hesitated before saying more, hoping Aidan would be content with that tidbit of information. He studies her expression as she informs him of Murray's death. Part of him regrets the traitor's suicide. It would have been so much more satisfying to have captured him, found out who all was involved and then court martial him. But then on the other hand...death was what Murray deserved. He frowns slightly and asks, "So what aren't you telling me? And please don't try and deny it, I know you too well by now. Last thing I recall really was you informing me about the Captain..." Swallowing hard, Deb tightened her grip on Aidan's hand. "Lieutenant Murray made his last stand in the cargo bay," she began slowly, choosing her words carefully. Her eyes momentarily darted around the room as she considered what to say next. "Somehow, he managed to activate an emergency vent. He overrode the safety protocols." She wondered if he would figure out where she was going with this. Aidan continued staring at her, waiting for a full explanation. "The bay doors opened without warning," she whispered. "A total of twenty souls were lost....including Jontiles Shamor, Kat Schawnsee and her new husband, John Angeliz." Aidan blinks and goes as pale as a ghost. He closes his eyes against the sudden tears as he mutters some choice Irish phrases under his breath. A single solitary tear is all he allows to fall before he recovers enough of his control to trust that he's not going to break down and cry. He squeezes her hand tightly for some added reassurance. In a choked voice he asks, "Who's in charge currently since I'm down here? If you're here it would be Smith or Scherer since you haven't said that anything has happened to them." His frown darkens as he adds "And there is one thing we need to take care of immediately." Deb watched her husband closely as he processed the information, allowing a few of her own tears to fall. His vitals remained stable but he was obviously upset. She couldn't blame him. The past few hours had produced one disaster after another. "Brian Smith has the con," she said quickly. She opted not to mention the run in between Smith and Scherer. She wanted to talk to both of them before breaching that subject with the Aidan. She laced her fingers through his and leaned a bit closer. "What is it you want taken care of?" He sighs quietly and murmurs, "Nothing that either one of us are going to like but it needs to be done. With the Captain's death and with me here, the ship is rather like a...oh what's the Yank phrase....a chicken with it's head cut off, I think. As far as the computer knows, the Captain is still the Commanding officer of this ship. That needs to be changed....the command codes need to be changed and an acting First Officer needs to be decided on. And then we need to decide what to do next. And also...I need to get in contact with Starfleet Security as soon as possible." She drew a deep breath, still trying to wrap her brain around the fact Fred Michaels was dead. "I'll record the log entry," murmured Deb, It was up to her, as the CMO, to enter the Captain's death certificate into the official log. She'd already prepared it but had not yet posted it. Once the computer authenticated the entry, it would automatically assign command to Aidan. He, in turn, could appoint an acting XO and they would each enter their new command codes. Deb looked at her wounded husband and then briefly checked the monitors carefully documenting his vital signs. She knew it was essential Aidan and Brian Smith meet to discuss how to proceed.The Reaent was in serious trouble. Although Brian was extremely bright, he was also very inexperienced. And Deb was concerned he had yet to earn the crew's trust. At the same time, Aidan was just beginning the long road to recovery from a very serious injury. As badly as he wanted to resume his duties, he needed to spend a few days recuperating. "I'll arrange for Brian to come down here in a couple of hours," she continued haltingly. "But he won't be able to stay for long. He watches her for a second then says, "And there is one last thing, though you're not going to like this one either. I want an examination done of the Captain's body to make sure it really is the Captain. This whole mess started after the away mission to Organia. You mentioned once to me that he had some disease that you were treating him for...I want him checked for that." "Denton's Syndrome," mumbled Deb, recalling the chronic disease the CO had battled for over three years. "He had Denton's Syndrome." She shook her head as a horrific vision flashed before her eyes....the image of the Captain laying dead on the biobed.....half of his head blown away by the still unknown assailant. "Someone else will have to do the autopsy," she said, the words nearly choking her. "There are still some who think I may have stabbed him. I don't want anyone questioning the final autopsy report. I'll be sure they test for Denton's." She paused for a moment, feeling her self control slip just a bit. As awful as she felt about the Captain's death, she was grateful it wasn't Aidan who'd been killed. "Someone else will have to do the autopsy," she said, the words nearly choking her. "There are still some who think I may have stabbed him. I don't want anyone questioning the final autopsy report. I'll be sure they test for Denton's." She paused for a moment, feeling her self control slip just a bit. As awful as she felt about the Captain's death, she was grateful it wasn't Aidan who'd been killed. He watches her quietly for a few seconds before reaching up and drawing her head down onto his shoulder. He murmurs quietly, "We'll get through this nightmare, love. Just wish I knew what the bloody devil is going on."

"He did pretty good." Those were the words Deb had been waiting for. She smiled brightly at Merina while resisting the urge to hug the Caitian physician. She'd never doubted Aidan was in good hands but she hadn't realized how difficult it would be to simply stand on the sidelines. The waiting had been a challenge. If she'd had it her way, Deb would have been on the surgical team, perhaps even the primary. But that would have been a mistake.... a mistake Gracie Allen had prevented when she forced Deb to remain on the bridge to treat Brian's relatively minor wound. Grace could have handled Smith's injury blindfolded with one hand tied behind her back. The nurse knew it and so did Deb. Insisting the CMO deal with Brian was nothing more than a ploy to give Merina and company a head start. By the time Deb made it to Sickbay, Aidan's surgery would be well underway. That's exactly what happened and Deb had the feeling it wasn't by coincidence. Was it possible her staff had conspired to keep her out of the operating suite? Did they have a plan on how to handle Deb should something like this happen to Aidan? She would explore those questions later. Right now, there were more pressing issues to deal with. She thanked Merina profusely and then slowly walked toward recovery, Gracie right beside her. "Are you going to follow me for the rest of the day?" asked Deb as they entered the small room. "That's the plan," replied Grace. "Besides, we need to set up a safe place for him once he's ready to leave recovery. I was thinking we could use one of the training rooms." "That's a great idea," replied Deb in a hushed tone. They were now in the recovery room and she was focused on the surgical bed across from the door they just walked through. Simon Ljungberg hovered near the patient, observing the data displayed on several small monitors. For a moment, Deb studied the data as she slowly approached the bed. Then she concentrated on the heavily sedated patient. He lay motionless, pale as the blanket covering him but his breathing was steady. She knew all the reasons why he looked the way he did. She'd lost count of all the surgical patients she'd dealt with over the years. Every one of them looked like this when they first arrived in recovery. However, this wasn't just any patient and Deb wasn't quite prepared for her reaction to seeing her husband like this. She glanced at Simon, intending to ask him how the patient was doing. But words failed her. Simon heard the doors open and he knew without even looking up who had just entered. He was afraid to look up and meet Debbie's eyes. Somehow the situation was awkward and he felt distinctly uncomfortable. He thought he knew what his chief wanted to hear but somehow, he felt like he wasn't the right person to tell her. But there was no one else around. Taking a deep breath, the young Petty Officer finally mustered the courage to look into his chief's eyes. "He's doing alright considering the injuries he sustained but I'm sure Doctor Merina told you that already," he said with what he hoped was a reassuring voice. When Simon worked at a hospital in San Francisco, he had quickly learned that sometimes, the most difficult part about the job was not dealing with the patients but with their families. That was especially true for patients like Ridire. The Commander was sedated and blissfully oblivious to everything that was going on around him. The surgery had gone well and as far as Simon could tell the XO make a full recovery. But what should he tell Doctor Matthews? That she shouldn't worry...that everything would be fine? He knew that right now those words wouldn't mean much to her. "We'll keep him sedated to let him sleep through the worst. But I'm sure in a few days he'll be demanding to be released." Debbie nodded wordlessly and managed to muster a slight smile. "Thank you, Petty Officer," she whispered while gazing at her sedated husband. "I appreciate your efforts on the Commander's behalf." She reached out and gently stroked Aidan's cheek then quickly withdrew her hand when she realized what she was doing. Deb forced herself to concentrate on the here and now. As far as the injury was concerned, the worst was over....Aidan would be okay. From this point on, Deb's priority was to insure his safety while he was in Sickbay. She liked Gracie's suggestion they move him to one of the adjacent training rooms. Each room was a miniature version of Sickbay and access could be easily restricted. It would take Deb and Gracie less than half an hour to set up the room. They would move Aidan as soon as Merina gave the go ahead. In the meantime, Deb didn't want him left alone for a minute. She moved to the foot of the bed where Mr. Ljungberg was standing, keeping one eye on the monitors and the other on the CMO. "Simon," she said quietly. "I have to make arrangements for the Commander's accommodations. That should take less than an hour. Stay with him until I get back. I don't want him left alone." Deb looked the young Petty Officer directly in the eye. "Do you understand, Mr. Ljungberg. You are to remain here....with the Commander until I get back." "Yes ma'am. I won't leave the room until you return." Simon could understand the CMO's concern for her husband. After all that had happened earlier it was obvious someone was trying to eliminate the command staff and they were doing a good job so far. Not even sickbay was safe anymore as the murder of Captain Michaels proved. Though he hoped that such an attack wouldn't happen again especially not now that he was ordered to stay with the attacker's target. That thought made Simon a little uneasy but he tried not to let it show. Simon turned his attention from the monitor in front of him to his chief. She nodded to him briefly and took a last look at Commander Ridire before turning around and walking out of the room.