John Randall

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 11308.01) John sat at his station at the main console, or the "pool table," as it was known in engineering. The chief was absent at the present, so Randall was supervising the crew as they got closer to Starbase 184 to receive orders for the ship's next mission. John was scrolling through the reports on his monitor, and everything was running routinely, as far as he could see. The ship was cruising at warp 5, and as far as Randall could tell, the engines were rumbling nicely. A few minutes later, the engine whine decreased noticeably, and John knew Challenger was now setting up for the final approach to the starbase dock. He punched the 'comm at his station. "Randall to Davis," he said. Ensign Steve Davis answered almost immediately. "Davis here," he responded. "Steve, assemble a team, and give the warp engines a good check as soon as we dock," ordered Randall. "Aye, Lieutenant, will do," replied the ensign. "Davis out." John then thought of something else, got up, and went to the head of the console, punching the department 'comm. "This is Randall," he said, his voice echoing throughout engineering. "As soon as we dock, implement normal maintenance duties. If any workers from the starbase come aboard, show them where they're needed. That is all. Randall out." John then got a call from ensign Jeff Michaels for a little help at the coolant flow station. He went to his locker, grabbed his toolkit, and headed to assist his friend. They were working at the station when the shipcom sounded. "Now hear this," came the voice of the communications officer, ensign Dvokr chim Hok. "All senior staff are to report to the starbase observation lounge in fifteen minutes. Bridge out." John frowned as he heard the announcement, and sighed as he turned to his friend. "Here we go again," he said resignedly. "Every time we dock, seems I have to go to a freakin' meeting." Michaels assumed an innocent look, and said, "All part of being in charge, Lieutenant," laughing as he dodged a punch aimed at his shoulder from Randall. John grinned back at him, then went to his locker to deposit his toolkit. He then took a quick turn around engineering, making sure everything was going the way it should go, then headed for the engineering doors, whipping out his communicator as he neared them. "Randall to Davis," he said. "Davis here," the ensign replied. "You have the conn while I'm gone, Steve. Randall out." He waited for Davis' acknowledgment, slapped the communicator closed, and went out into the corridor as the doors opened for him. He went along the corridor to the turbolift, and stood waiting patiently for a car to arrive. Some three minutes later, he was still waiting, and thought to himself, 'Everyone must be using the lift at the same time.' Just then, his communicator beeped, and he pulled it out. "Randall here," he said. Steve Davis' voice said, "Hey, Lieutenant, you left the ship yet?" "No, I haven't," said John. "What's up?" "We've got trouble with a warp coil, sir," replied Davis, and Randall's eyebrows went straight up. "We didn't know it was this bad," the ensign continued. "We're lucky we got here, you need to see this for yourself. We need you, sir." "Acknowledged," John answered crisply, his adrenaline starting to flow at the sound of a major problem. "I'll inform the captain; have you assembled a repair crew?" "Affirmative, sir, they're on the way," replied Davis. "Good deal," John said. "I'll be right there, Randall out." He started back toward engineering, turning a dial on his communicator as he walked. "Randall to Ja'lale," he said. A few seconds later, the voice of the Challenger captain came over the communicator. "Ja'Lale here, go ahead, Lieutenant," it said. "Captain, we've got a warp coil gone bad, sir," reported Randall. "I think you might have to excuse me from the meeting. Ensign Davis said we're lucky we got here in one piece." "I see," the captain replied. "A bad coil is not a good thing. You are excused, Lieutenant. Fix my ship." "Aye, sir," John said as he reached the engineering doors, which parted for him, and he walked inside. "We're on it, sir. Randall out." He slapped the communicator shut as he reached his locker. He grabbed his toolkit, and made his way back to the warp core. The repair team had just arrived as well, and John gave orders to implement the repair procedure. He supervised as the team began their task. 'Hopefully, the chief, wherever he is, heard the announcement, and will make it to the meeting,' he thought, then concentrated on the task at hand. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 11307.11) John was sitting in Admiral Chuck Hastings' office at Starfleet HQ in San Francisco. He had been sent there by Admiral Jason Baldwin to get even more info about his father and his last mission, which had ended, John now knew definitely, with his father getting shot by Romulans. "So, Admiral," he said, "I was sent here by Admiral Jason Baldwin; he said you would know what was going on immediately when I said that." The admiral nodded resignedly. "So, you know the truth about your father, then," he said, and Randall nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "I'm just not sure how you fit into all this." "Lieutenant," said Hastings, "against my wishes, your father was handed that Romulan assignment. I did not want him to go, I had a bad feeling about that mission from the start. But, the brass back then said we needed our best operative for that job, and, unfortunately, Marcus was the best we had. I say 'unfortunately' for him because of the way it turned out." John nodded. "So, you and Admiral Baldwin were against my father going on that mission," he said, and the admiral nodded. "And Commander Alex Taylor was as well; he felt Marcus' cover may have been blown. As it turned out, he may have been right." John's eyes hardened then as he looked at Hastings. "I was told by Commander Taylor that a Romulan posing as a Vulcan betrayed my father," he said. The admiral was clearly uncomfortable that the lieutenant sitting in front of him knew that. "That's true, Lieutenant," he said defeatedly. "The Romulan, I'm sorry to say, was never caught nor found." Hastings' voice carried such a note of defeat in it that John's momentary anger all but vanished. He said mildly, "I'm sure there was a search, Admiral." Hastings looked at him, and Randall was sure there was a little gratitude in the admiral's eyes. "And a very extensive one," Hastings agreed. "We never found out how he got into Federation space, or how he left." The two men stared at each other a moment, then John gave an exhausted sigh. "I'm sure you did all you could, sir," he said. "At least now, I know the whole story. I appreciate you giving me some of your time." With that, he stood, and gave Hastings the Starfleet salute. The admiral gave a dismissive wave of his hand at the salute, and instead, stood, and extended his hand across his desk to John, who grasped it, and shook it firmly. "I just wish I had met you under different circumstances, Lieutenant," said Hastings. "I still consider it a personal failure that we lost your father. I'm still conducting my own personal investigation, even after all this time. Would you like me to keep you updated?" Randall smiled at that, and nodded. "I would appreciate it very much, sir," he said. Hastings nodded, returning John's smile. "Done, Lieutenant," he said. "And, just between you and me, we here at Intel are keeping tabs on your career, being that you're Marcus' son. You're doing very well for yourself; keep it up." "Thank you, sir," Randall said. "Thank you again for seeing me." "Any time, Lieutenant," said Hastings. "Warp speed to you." John nodded, smiled again, and left the office. He gave the receptionist a brief smile as he passed by her desk; she returned it, and watched him walk to the turbolift. "Lobby," said John, and the lift sped off. The lift deposited him on the ground floor, and John exited the lift, heading for the glass doors to the sidewalk outside. He went through the doors, and took out his communicator. "Challenger; one to beam up," he said; and, a few seconds later, shimmered out of existence. He rematerialized aboard the ship, nodded to the transporter chief, who returned it, and strode off the dais to the door of the transporter room. The door swooshed open as he approached, and he went out into the corridor, heading for the turbolift. He arrived at the chute, but had to wait a few moments, as the lift was in use. A few minutes later, the lift arrived, and John stepped in. "Deck 3," he said, and the lift whisked him away. He arrived at his destination, and exited the lift; he went along the corridor to the door of his room, which swished open as he approached. He went in, deposited his duffel bag on the sofa, and sat down heavily, being really tired, physically and emotionally. He closed his eyes, his mind starting to process all the information he had assimilated. He ruminated on what he had learned about his father, and, suddenly, a renewed hatred for the Romulans burst open in his mind, and he pounded his fist into the sofa repeatedly. Angry tears came from his closed eyes involuntarily as he sat there. A few seconds later, he, for a few seconds, completely lost all control. He sprang to his feet, and threw his communicator against the wall. It rebounded to the floor, and he let out a deafening primal scream. He sat back down on the sofa heavily, then his eyes hardened, and his face became a grim mask. He made a new vow to himself; he would find the Romulan who had betrayed his father, even if it took him the rest of his life. A little while later, emotionally spent, he stood up, stripped off his clothes, and went into the head to take a shower. Before he stepped in, he looked down at the bandage on his arm where the doctor had removed the tracking device. He angrily ripped it off, and stepped into the shower. During the shower, a small trickle of blood seeped from his arm mixing with the water as it ran into the drain. John was still too angry to notice any of it; he could not get his mind off of what he had learned about his father. He finished showering a few minutes later, and exited the shower. As he toweled off, he noticed where the blood had leaked out of his arm, and growled at it. He went back into the head, selected a bandage, angrily ripped off the paper containing it, and slapped it onto his arm. He was suddenly very weary, and knew he had to get some sleep. He told the computer what time to wake him after he went to the computer terminal, and pulled up the duty roster. He then tottered into the bedroom, put on his pajamas, and fell into bed, dropping into a deep sleep. END LOG

Lol, that would be appreciated, Commander. :)

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 11307.23) John awakened in his bed after a good, long 9 hours of sleep. He got out of bed, stretched, took off his pajamas, and tottered into the head to take a shower. Some 20 minutes later, he stepped out, toweled off, and returned to the bedroom to put on his uniform. As he finished dressing, he walked over to the computer terminal, and punched the 'comm. "Randall to Freeman," he said, and got an almost immediate response. "Freeman here," said the chief engineer. "What's up?" "Hey, Commander," Randall replied. "Just wanted to let you know I'll be at my station in 5 minutes." "Good," said Freeman. "Not sure, but it sounds like we're getting right back into the saddle. Give me a heads up when you get here." "Will do," answered the assistant chief engineer. "Randall out." He walked over to the mini-fridge, got out his breakfast concoction; poured himself a glass, drank it straight down, and headed for the door of the cabin. He exited the cabin, and went down the corridor, heading for the turbolift. "Deck 12," he said as he stepped in, and the lift sped off. A few seconds later, it arrived, he stepped out, and made his way along the corridor to the door of engineering. It swished open at his approach, and he strode in, nodding to various crewmembers he encountered. John made his way to the main console, where he noticed Freeman was at a terminal. He sat down at a nearby one, logged in for duty, and glanced at the chief engineer. "Hey, Chief," he said. As Freeman turned to acknowledge him, John saw, with surprise, a huge bruise on the side of the lieutenant commander's face. "Hey," Eddie replied. "How's it going?" "Um, better than you, apparently," said Randall, glancing at the night shift reports. "You all right?" "Yeah, I'm fine," said Freeman resignedly. "I was at this bar, and there was this Andorian..., well, details aren't important." John raised his eyebrows as Freeman continued, "I said something rude about his mother, let's put it that way." He put down the PADD he had been looking at, and gestured to his face. "And, then, this happened," he concluded. John grimaced in sympathy. "Ouch," he said, then grinned ruefully. "Yeah, those Andorians pack a pretty good punch, being from a high gravity planet, and all." "I did pretty well," said Freeman defensively, "for a non-combat specialist, fighting an Andorian. Still got my clock cleaned, but at least I cleaned his, too." He suddenly leaned forward, staring at his monitor. "Are we moving?" he asked. John consulted his own monitor, and nodded. "Yes, sir, we are," he confirmed. "Looks like we're pulling into an orbit around Earth." John then thought of something, and glanced at Freeman. "You know, I never did hear about the captain making it back on board, did you?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, and, fingers moving over his keyboard, pulled up the status reports. "Captain's still unaccounted for," he said, with a little surprise in his voice. Randall regarded him for a few seconds, thinking. "Hm, the last I heard, the captain was still in the bayous of Louisiana; you don't think he got lost, do you? It's still easy to do in that place." Freeman adjusted his position at his console. "Never been," he said. "Closest I've been is New Orleans. But, what I've heard; yeah, it's real easy to turn up missing." John nodded, then pulled up a diagnostic program, and began running it. A little while later, Freeman punched the 'comm button at his station. "Engineering to bridge," he said. "Um, to anyone who isn't busy, we're getting status reports down here that the captain is still unaccounted for; is this true?" John glanced at him during the transmission, but continued running the diagnostic program. A few minutes later, the voice of Challenger's executive officer, Commander Erica Rinax, came over the 'comm. "This is Commander Rinax. Before everyone starts guessing, yes, we are sending a shuttle to Earth to collect the captain. In the meantime, do not go wild claiming his belongings, or writing home; he is fine. Rinax out." John heard Freeman mumble to himself, "That would be a yes," and smiled to himself. He widened his eyes a little, and glanced at the chief engineer. "Lost in the Louisiana bayous," he said. "I hope the captain's all right." Freeman answered, "You'd think Engineering wouldn't have to find out through the grapevine, though." He leaned back in his chair. "Not much we can do, however," he continued. "That's an SAR job. They might ask for one of us, though." John nodded, finishing up the diagnostic program he was running. He stretched a little in his chair, then glanced at Eddie. "Chief, I'm gonna go check in with Steve Davis at the warp core station. Will contact you if anything happens." "All right," responded Freeman. "I'll keep an ear open." Randall nodded, got up out of his chair, and strode back to the warp core station, where his friend Ensign Steve Davis was watching after the engines. He walked up to Davis, and clapped him on the shoulder. "How's it going, my friend?" he asked. The ensign smiled at him. "Hey, Lieutenant," he replied. "Not bad. Is it true what I heard, the captain's gone missing?" John nodded. "That's what the XO said a few minutes ago, yeah," he answered. The two men continued to work at the warp core station. A few minutes later, the voice of Rinax came over the 'comm again. "Challenger crew, this is the XO. The captain is aboard our shuttle, and is enroute to the ship. Please prepare your stations for our next mission." The two men heard the announcement, and grinned at each other. John put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Everything looks good here, Steve," he said. "I'm going back to my station; see you later." Davis nodded, and John strode back to the main console, sitting down at his station. He began to read the reports as they came in, and was busy for a while. Sometime during the next hour, however, he began thinking about his father, and what he had learned about his death. He involuntarily stared off into space as he did so, and it was noticed by his friend Jeff Michaels. The ensign got up from his station, and slid into an empty chair beside Randall. "Hey, pal, you okay?" he asked, glancing at the chief engineer, who was busy at his station. John started a little, then his eyes came into focus as he smiled at Michaels. "Hey, Jeff," he whispered back. "Yeah, just doing some thinking, but better not do it here," he grinned. An e-mail flashed onto his monitor; it was from Lieutenant Reed on the bridge, seeking confirmation that the engineering department was ready for the next mission. John sent a confirming e-mail, then turned as Michaels addressed him. "Okay, pal, just checking on ya," he whispered, and smiled at John. "Thanks, Jeff; we'll talk later," Randall replied. Michaels nodded, got up, and went back to his station. John looked around, and noted the chief had left engineering; he stood up, glancing around the department; everything seemed to be running normally, and he sat back down, resuming his duties. A little bit later, John suddenly thought to himself, 'Haven't seen a mission brief yet,' and checked his inbox; there was nothing there, so he continued working. A few minutes later, his 'comm beeped. "Talbot to Randall," said a bass voice. John punched the 'comm. "Randall here," he answered. Ensign Greg Talbot, a native of Rigel VII, said, "Sir, we're having a bit of a problem with the coolant flow; care to lend us a hand?" Randall said, "Roger that, Greg; be right with you, Randall out." He got up out of his chair, glad to have something to do to help take his mind off things, and strode back to the coolant flow station. He greeted Talbot, who looked relieved to see him. "Okay, Greg, what's up?" he asked the ensign. Talbot showed him the problem, and Randall told him he would walk him through it. A few minutes later, John saw the problem was a little worse than what he thought. He took out his communicator. "Engineering to bridge, come in, please," he said. To his surprise, the voice of Marine Captain Cassidy Granger answered. "Captain Granger here, go ahead, engineering." "Um, hello, captain," said John. "We need to cut our warp speed to five immediately; we've got a bit of a coolant flow problem here. ETA on repair is approximately one hour." There was silence for a few seconds later, then Granger said, "Done, Mr. Randall; keep me informed." "Aye, will do," John replied. "Randall out." He started Talbot on the repairs, and, as the repair crew arrived, briefed them on what the problem was, and they set to work. John went to his locker to grab his toolkit, and strode back to supervise the repairs. About 45 minutes later, the work was done, and the coolant flow returned to nominal. Randall contacted the bridge to let them know, and strode back to his locker to return his toolkit. He sauntered through engineering, watching the crew work, and returned to his station, satisfied that was everything was normal again. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 11307.05) John and Ensign Redhawk rematerialized aboard Challenger; the two men stepped off the dais, Randall nodding at the transporter chief. They exited the room, and, as they were walking toward the turbolift, John glanced at Redhawk. "That should be the end of your involvement with me, ensign," he said. "Feel free to resume your normal duties." "Aye, sir," said Redhawk as they boarded the turbolift. "Deck 3," snapped Randall, and the lift sped off. John arrived at his deck, and the lift sped off again with Redhawk still inside. The lieutenant made his way down the corridor to his cabin; the doors swooshed open at his approach, and he went inside. He stripped off his clothes, and went to the head to take a shower. Some 20 minutes later, he exited the shower, toweled off, and went to put on a new set of civilian clothes. He left the cabin, and went along the corridor to the turbolift. Stepping inside, he said, "Deck 7," and the lift whisked him away. It arrived a few moments later; he exited the lift, and went along the corridor to the doors of Sickbay. They opened as he approached, and he went in, looking around. Seeing no one immediately, he said, "Anyone here?" Dr. Gretchen Hanson, the chief medical officer of the Challenger, peeked her head out a nearby door. "Here, Lieutenant," she said. John nodded, gave a small smile, and headed to where she was. Hanson regarded him as he came in. "What can I do for you, John?" she asked brightly. "I'd like you to remove this tracking device, Doctor," he said, referring to the device implanted by Hanson at the order of Challenger's first officer, Commander Erica Rinax. "Or do you need an order from the XO to do that?" asked Randall. Hanson frowned. "Let me see if I can contact her, John," she said, and walked out of the room, heading for her computer station. She punched her 'comm button. "Sickbay to bridge," she said. She waited a few moments, but got no answer. She tried again, and got the same result. She thought for a few seconds, then got up, and headed back to the room where John sat patiently. "Are you done with whatever you were doing that required you to have this?" she asked. Randall nodded. "Well, I can't get ahold of anyone on the bridge," she frowned, "so I guess it's up to me. You say you're finished, so I'm taking you at your word, all right?" "I wouldn't have told you that if I wasn't, Gretchen," replied John, and the doctor smiled. "I believe you," she said. "Let me get my instruments, and I'll be right back." She gathered what she needed, and went back into the room where John already had the sleeve of his tunic rolled up. She loaded a hypospray, and sprayed a local anesthetic to his arm. She waited a few seconds, during which time she loaded another hypo, fitting an instrument to it. She then took the tool she had just fashioned, and, with very little cutting, extracted the tracking device from Randall's upper arm. She picked up another tool, and began waving it back and forth along the slight wound. A few moments later, she finished, and applied a dressing and bandage to the area. "Keep the dressing on for about 12 hours, John," she said. "That should be ample time for the skin to be knitting together well. You're good to go, Lieutenant." Randall nodded, carefully rolled the sleeve back down over the bandage, and smiled at the doctor. "Thank you, Gretchen," he said. "Enjoy the rest of our leave." She smiled, and gave a little wave as he left. John left sickbay, and walked along the corridor to the turbolift. "Deck 3," he said as he entered, and the lift sped off. A few moments later, the lift arrived, and he stepped out. He made his way along the corridor to his cabin. He went in, put on a light jacket, and left the cabin, going back to the turbolift. "Deck 10," he said as he entered, and the lift took him there. He exited the lift, and made his way down the corridor to the door of the transporter room. He went in, and handed a PADD to the ensign who was stationed there. The ensign nodded, inputted the coordinates form the display on the PADD, and looked up at John, nodding. "Energize," said Randall, and he shimmered out of existence. He reappeared on a sidewalk next to Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco, California, USA, Earth. He looked for a second, then entered through the glass door. He went through the weapons detector, which pronounced him clean, and went to study the manifest of the offices which was displayed on a nearby wall. He located the name he was looking for, and looked around, spotting a turbolift nearby. He walked over to it, and stepped inside. "3rd floor," he said, and the lift sped off. He arrived, and exited the lift; he made his way down a hallway, and came to a desk where a receptionist sat. He walked up to the desk. "Excuse me," he said, and the attractive young brunette, slightly startled, recovered coolly. "Yes?" she said helpfully. John smiled. "My name is Lieutenant John Randall of the starship Challenger, and I would like to speak with Admiral Hastings, please." "Do you have an appointment?" she asked. "No, I do not," the engineer replied. "You can tell him that Admiral Jason Baldwin sent me, if you like." At that, the receptionist's eyes widened slightly, and she said, "Just a moment, please." She quickly punched a button on her monitor, and John heard a man's voice say, "Yes?" "Sir, I have a Lieutenant John Randall here to see you," she said. "Randall?" said the voice, clearly startled. "Yes, sir," she said. "Tell him to come in, please," said the voice. "Yes, sir,"she said, and looked up at John, smiling. Randall nodded his thanks, and strode toward the door which bore the name: Admiral Chuck Hastings, Starfleet Intelligence. He entered, and a man with graying brown hair stood up from behind a desk. The man looked at John with some amazement, and shook his head. "Yes, you're Marcus Randall's son, all right," the admiral said. "There's no mistaking that. Sit down, Lieutenant, what can I do for you?" He waved to a nearby chair, and John walked over to it, sitting down. "Thank you for seeing me, sir," he said. Hastings waved a hand in dismissal. "Jason contacted me, and said you would probably be stopping by. I just had no idea you looked so much like your father," he said, shaking his head again. "I take it you know about what happened to Marcus," he said, looking Randall directly in the eyes. John nodded. "Yes, sir, I met Commander Alex Taylor, and he told me the story," said the Challenger engineer. "Alex told me you might be able to fill in some more of the gaps, and that's why I'm here, sir." The admiral nodded. "Lieutenant, I'll be frank with you; I've looked forward to, and dreaded this day at the same time. Now, you're here, and I'm really not sure where to begin." "How about the beginning, sir?" said Randall. "Every mission has a starting point." Hastings looked at him. "You're right, Lieutenant," he smiled. "Okay, let's take it from the top, then." John sat forward in his chair, anxiously awaiting what the admiral knew. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 11306.24) John and Ensign Redhawk shimmered into existence in a large, empty building. Looking around, the Starfleet lieutenant thought to himself, 'This must have been a warehouse once.' The security guard immediately drew his phaser, and went on full alert. Randall stayed where he was, his eyes scanning around, until he spotted a door in the east wall of the abandoned building. He nudged the young guard, who looked at him, and John nodded his head toward the door. The ensign nodded, and led the way to the door. Light shone through the crack at the bottom of the door, and the two men looked at each other, then John nodded to the ensign security guard. Redhawk reached out, took hold of the knob, and opened the door. Surprisingly, the hinges appeared to be well-oiled; not a single skreek was heard as the door opened. The two men went inside, and they immediately looked to their left as a table came into their periphreal vision. Seated at the table was Admiral Jason Baldwin; with him was a man John had never seen before. The admiral quickly arose from the table. "Ah, Lieutenant Randall," he said. "Good of you to come. Come have a seat, please," and he gestured to an empty chair in front of the table where he and the stranger were sitting. John nodded, and walked to the empty chair, sitting down. Redhawk holstered his phaser, and took up a standing position behind where Randall was seated. Baldwin resumed his seat, and said, "John, here's someone I thought you should meet. This is retired Commander Alex Taylor. He knew your father well." At that, John's eyebrows raised, and Taylor stood, extending his hand. Randall shook it, and they sat back down. The retired commander spoke in a deep bass voice. "Hello, Lieutenant," he said. "Nice to finally meet you. You're definitely Marcus' son; dammed if you don't look just like him," he finished, shaking his head in amazement. John was staring at the former Starfleet Intelligence operative. "You worked with my father, sir?" he asked. Taylor was about six feet two, still in pretty good shape, judging by his appearance; his hair was tinged with minute flecks of gray, but the gray eyes were still alert and watchful. He nodded to John's question, and the Challenger engineer thought it was a nod of sadness. When the retired commander spoke, his voice was tinged with melancholy. "Yes, I did, Lieutenant," he said. "Your father was one of the good ones. It's a shame what happened to him." John replied, "Please call me John, sir," and Taylor nodded. The lieutenant then glanced over to Baldwin. "Is this why you summoned me, sir?" he asked, and the admiral nodded. "After what happened to you last year on that mission, John, I figured I owed you something," he said. "I want you to know right now; Starfleet knows nothing about this. I trust no one here will spill the beans." He looked around as he spoke, and everyone shook their head negatively. "No one will know, sir," Randall said, then glanced back at the guard. "My companion is here on orders." Baldwin nodded. "As you told me," he agreed. "Ok, Alex, he's all yours. John, I've heard the story already, so I'll step out, and let you two talk." He then looked at the guard. "You come with me, ensign," he ordered, and Redhawk nodded, following the admiral out a door located on the left wall of the room. Taylor watched them go, then turned back to Randall. "John, I gather you are seeking details about your father's......demise," he said. Randall inclined his head. "That's one way to put it, sir," he agreed. "Please call me Alex, I'm retired now," replied Taylor, and the two men smiled at one another. The former operative took a deep breath, then continued. "John, what I'm about to tell you is still highly classified by Starfleet. But, when Jason contacted me, and told me about you, I agreed with him; you being Marcus' son, you have a right to know. So, you never heard this from me, all right?" Randall nodded, and leaned his elbows onto the table in anticipation. "I understand," he said. "Please go on." Taylor then told John a remarkable, and deeply disturbing, story; how his father had accepted a deep undercover mission to Romulus; Marcus Randall completed the mission, but was then betrayed by a Romulan who had been posing as a Vulcan. His father had escaped the trap set for him, and made it back to Federation space. Unknown to Marcus Randall, however, more Romulans had been posing as Vulcans; they tracked John's father to the Martian spacedocks; a firefight ensued, and Marcus Randall was killed. At that moment, John's communicator beeped, and he said, "Excuse me, Alex." He irritatedly whipped out his communicator, and the voice of the Challenger's executive officer, Commander Erica Rinax, came over the speaker. "Commander Rinax to Lieutenant Randall, respond," it said. "Randall here, go ahead, Commander," replied the assistant chief engineer, irritation in his voice. The voice of the executive officer cooled noticeably as she said, "I have your location at 323 mark 4, and Redhawk's location at 335 mark 3. Why are you so many meters apart?" John answered in a like voice. "Not my doing, Commander," he said. "My guard is with Admiral Baldwin on his orders. We're just fine, there is no cause for concern." "You two are to correctly obey orders," shot back Rinax, "and since I have to be specific, you must remain with two meters of each other; non-negotiable. And it sounds like I have to throw in that you must remain within eyesight of each other; no standing on the other side of doors, and tricks like that." Randall rolled his eyes, and Taylor mouthed a silent "wow", making John grin. But, when he answered, John's voice was anything but jovial. "Then I suggest you speak with Admiral Baldwin on that matter, sir," he said coldly. "He's in the next room with my guard. I'll tell him to contact you. Randall out." He snapped the communicator closed, and looked at Taylor. "It's my XO aboard Challenger," he explained. "She's one of those 'by the book' officers, you know?" Alex smiled in understanding. "I've been there, John," he said. "I'll just get a glass of water while you get with the admiral." Randall nodded, and, rising from his seat, went into the next room to be greeted with raised eyebrows by Baldwin. "Hello, Admiral," he said. "I have a situation to brief you on, sir." "And what would that be, Lieutenant?" asked Baldwin. "Well, sir," said the Challenger engineer, "I told you how we were coming down here, and now my XO is a little ticked off that my guard and I are seperated by a few meters." Baldwin narrowed his eyes, and his voice went cold. "I see," he said. "Would you like me to speak with your XO?" John sighed, and the admiral raised his eyebrows again. "You'll probably have to, sir," he said. "She's one of those 'by the book' officers, you know?" Baldwin nodded grimly, his eyes flashing. "I know exactly what you mean, Lieutenant," he said. "Don't worry about a thing; go back and talk with Alex some more if you're not finished. I'll take care of it." Randall nodded, and turned to leave. As he stepped back through the door, he heard Baldwin call irritatedly to an aide, "Get me the Challenger," and the lieutenant grimly smiled to himself. He walked back to the table, and sat down in his chair opposite the former Starfleet Intelligence operative. As they continued talking, Baldwin's voice could be heard in the next room; he was not at all happy with the executive officer of the Challenger. The two men exchanged a grim look, and continued talking. About an hour later, both men stood up, and Randall held out his hand to Taylor, who shook it firmly. "Thank you for coming today, Alex," said John. "My pleasure, John," replied the former operative. "It's actually been good for me to tell you about your father, it takes a weight off my chest. I always felt I should have been with him on that Romulan mission, but he wouldn't hear of it. Your father had an independent soul, John; when he made his mind up, it was a done deal." John smiled, and nodded. "Yes, sir, it was," he said. "And it didn't matter who tried to stop him." Taylor grinned. "You're right about that," he agreed. "I once saw Marcus get into it with an admiral when he was still a lieutenant commander, and Marcus didn't give an inch to him. At the end of it, the admiral was actually trying to calm Marcus down. It was too late by then, of course," and both men laughed. Baldwin and Redhawk came back into the room, and the admiral grinned at John. "You do not have a problem, Lieutenant," he said. "Thank you, sir," replied Randall. Baldwin looked at Taylor. "All finished?" he asked, and the former operative nodded. The admiral looked at John. "John, I would ask that you keep this under wraps for now," he said, then held up his hand as the lieutenant started to speak. "However," continued Baldwin, "I have someone else for you to see. His name is Admiral Chuck Hastings. He's at Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco. When you tell him who you are, he'll see you; there's no need to make an appointment. If you have to, tell him I sent you." John nodded. "I appreciate all your help, Admiral," he said. "It means a lot to me, sir." The admiral nodded. "I can see that in your eyes, Lieutenant. If there's nothing else, you and your guard are free to go." John nodded. "Thanks to both of you," he said, and both men nodded. Randall turned, nodded to Redhawk, and they returned to the area from which they had materialized. John took out his communicator, and said, "Challenger; two to beam up." A few seconds later, the men disappeared in two columns of twinkling lights. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 11306.18) John sat in his cabin onboard Challenger awaiting a summons to the bridge from the ship's executive officer, Commander Erica Rinax. He had went to see the commander about a comm he had gotten from Admiral Jason Baldwin of Starfleet Intelligence. In the comm, Baldwin had intimated to Randall that he had some information that Randall might find personally compelling. After John received the comm, he had talked it over with his friend, and commanding officer, Lieutenant Commander Eddie Freeman, chief of Engineering, on what he should do. Freeman advised him to notify at least one of the bridge officers, either Captain Ja'Lale or Commander Rinax, before he met Baldwin at the preassigned coordinates stipulated in the comm. John was going to tell someone where he was this time, in light of what had happened to him the last time he had had dealings with Starfleet Intelligence. John accepted Eddie's advice, called the bridge, and had gotten in touch with the XO of Challenger. After a meeting in the captain's ready room, Rinax informed Randall she would contact the captain, and get his feelings and/or orders from him; she would then contact John, and have him return to the bridge. John decided to watch the second game of the Centauran World Series of null-G ball while he was waiting on word from Rinax. He plugged the vidcube into the player, got a bottle of flavored water out of stasis, and sat down on his sofa to watch the game. About an hour later, John's console beeped. "Rinax to Randall, please see me on the bridge," came the voice of the executive officer. John stopped the player, and went over to the computer terminal. He punched the 'comm button. "On my way, Commander," he answered, and strode to the door of the cabin. It whooshed open, and the lieutenant made his way down the corridor to the turbolift. "Bridge," he said as he entered, and the lift sped off. The lift deposited him on the deck, and Randall stepped out onto the bridge. He looked around, and saw the executive officer in her chair. He walked over, and stopped in front of her. "Randall reporting as requested, sir," he said, and the commander looked up, blinking. "Ah, Randall, that was quick," she said with a hint of surprise in her voice. "Let's hit the ready room." As she arose from her chair, she snapped, "Ops, you have the con." The ops officer acknowledged her, and she led John to the ready room. They sat down, she behind the desk, he in a chair in front. She clasped her hands together, and looked directly at him. "So," she began. "I had a minimal chat with the captain; he didn't like being bothered, between his.....well, let's just say he's busy." John raised his eyebrows, but Rinax pressed on quickly. "I cannot let you leave and see the admiral alone," she continued, "so I am going to assign a security officer to accompany you. You can select one, if you have a preference, but I have to approve them." John shrugged, and said, "Whoever you assign is fine by me, Commander." Rinax nodded and reached over to punch the 'comm button. "XO to security," she said. "Who is the acting duty chief?" While she waited for a response, she turned back to John. "Secondly," she said, "you will have 48 hours, no more, to complete whatever this is going to be. If you do not return, I will consider you AWOL." John nodded in understanding. "Hopefully, he just wants to see me this time," replied the lieutenant. A response came from security. "Ensign Redhawk here, sir," said the voice. Rinax responded, "Ensign Redhawk, you will accompany Lieutenant Randall on a mission. Report to sickbay." "Aye, sir," replied the ensign. "Redhawk out." The commander looked back at John. "You will take him with you, and bring him back in one piece. Do you have any questions?" John gave a small smile, and said, "I will endeavour to do my best, Commander; no questions here." Rinax nodded, then looked at him. "Ok, the final thing," she said. Her eyes grew very watchful. "You will also report to sickbay, and see the chief medical officer. She is going to inject both of you with tracking devices, and this is not optional. I am not going to lose staff while the captain is off the bridge." She watched him carefully for his reaction, and was somewhat surprised when the lieutenant simply nodded. "I wish I had had one of those last time," John said. "No problem, Commander. Anything else?" Rinax, slightly mollified, stood and said, "I'll head down with you." She picked up her cup she had brought with her, took a final sip of whatever she had been drinking, and set the cup back down. Randall nodded, arose out of his chair, and exited the ready room, heading for the turbolift, the commander right on his heels. They entered, and Rinax snapped, "Deck 7." The doors closed, and the lift took off. She glanced at John, then looked straight ahead. "You do know I've worked for Intel undercover most of my career until recently," she said. Randall glanced at her, then likewise looked straight ahead. "Yes, sir," he said. "I've gathered that in the short time I've known you." Rinax said, "I've been locked into a lot of admirals, generals, and other brass that push my buttons and butt around...you know." John nodded, but didn't say anything. A few seconds passed, then he said, "My father worked for Starfleet Intelligence." Rinax then looked at him, an eyebrow raising. "I've forgotten," she said. "Who was your father?" John took a deep breath, and said, "Lieutenant Commander Marcus Julian Randall, sir. The title was only honorary." Rinax looked straight ahead. The name of his father did ring a bell in her head, but she decided she wasn't going to let the lieutenant know that. She then said, "Well, I want you to know that no matter the rank, you have Starfleet's executive orders that give you the right to refuse any mission; especially when orders are....a little questionable." John glanced at her, and replied, "Thank you, Commander, I will remember that." Rinax nodded. "Good," she said, as the lift came to a stop. They walked down the corridor to the sickbay doors, which whooshed open as they approached. Rinax strode in, and said, "Where's the chief?" Doctor Gretchen Hanson stepped out of a treatment room upon hearing the commander's voice. "Come on back, Commander," she said as the doors whooshed open again, admitting a lanky young man into the reception area, dressed in the familiar red shirt and black pants uniform of a security guard. John nodded to him, and the ensign, seeing the pips on Randall's collar, nodded respectfully back. "Ah," said Rinax, and the three officers moved to the room where the chief medical officer of the Challenger was waiting, hypospray in hand. She frowned briefly as she saw an extra person with the party; she had been expecting to inject only Randall. John moved forward, and smiled at her. "Hello, Doctor, I guess you know why we're here," he said, and Hanson returned the smile. "Of course," she said. "Step over here, please." "Doctor, you will be injecting the ensign here also," said Rinax, and Hanson nodded resignedly. "Please send the locking codes and ID's for both of them to my station," continued Rinax, and Hanson nodded. "We'll take care of him, Commander," she said. "Is this to be a wrist injection, Doctor?" inquired Randall, and she shook her head. "No, I like the underside of the upper arm," she said. "More room for the device. So, if you'll roll up your sleeve for me," she trailed off, and John proceeded to follow her directions. Rinax wandered out into the reception area while John was being readied for the injection, and, a few seconds later, Randall overheard the commander talking with the Challenger's navigational officer, Lieutenant H.G. Reed. The doctor sprayed a local antisthetic to John's arm to numb it for the tracking device injection. She then picked up another hypo, that contained the tracking device, and shot it into his flesh. Randall rubbed his arm a little, then smiled at her. "All done?" he asked, and she nodded. "All done," she replied, and pulled a green sucker out of her pocket, giving it to him. She whispered, "Don't let the commander see this; she'll find some excuse to take it from you," smiling as she said it. John winked at her, and quickly put the sucker in his pants pocket. "No worries, Doctor," he said, and then moved out of the way to make room for Ensign Redhawk to receive his tracker. He went out into the reception area, and spotted Rinax talking with Reed. He moved over to the two women. "Lieutenant Reed, how you doing?" he asked. The bridge officer smiled at him, and said, "Hello, John, it is nice to see you." To Rinax, she said, "Home, ma'am." The executive officer nodded, then looked at John. "Randall," she said, then held up four fingers, then eight. John nodded, and Rinax turned back to Reed. "See you, then," she said. John looked over to Reed. "Hope you have a great time in whatever you do, H.G. See you later." Reed smiled at him. "Home is always worth a visit. Safe travels, John." She gave him a nod, and Randall thought he detected a bit of a worried expression directed toward him by the lady lieutenant. He moved away from the two women just as Ensign Redhawk came out of the treatment room, rubbing his arm also. John then looked over to Rinax, who was watching them. "I guess we're ready to go, Commander," he said. "Will check in with the ship later." Rinax nodded, and said, "See you soon." John and Redhawk came to attention briefly, and Randall said, "Sir." Then they turned, and exited sickbay, John not noticing Rinax's amused half-smile as she watched them go. As they walked down the corridor, John said to the security man, "We shouldn't need anything except what we've already got, Ensign." "Aye, sir," replied Redhawk, and they reached the turbolift. "Deck 3," said John, and the lift whisked them away. They arrived at the deck, and John led the ensign down the corridor to his cabin. The door swooshed open, and they went inside; Randall heading for the computer terminal. He punched the button for the 'comm, and said, "Lieutenant Randall to Admiral Baldwin, come in, please." A few seconds later, the voice of the admiral sounded. "Baldwin here, go ahead, Lieutenant." "Ready to transport to coordinates, sir," said John. "On orders from my XO, I will not be alone." There was a second or two of silence, then Baldwin said, "Acknowledged, Lieutenant. Yes, beam to those coords, and I will see you there. Baldwin out." John nodded to Redhawk, and the two men left his cabin, heading for the turbolift. They entered, and John said, "Deck 10." The lift sped off, and they arrived at their destination. The men exited the lift, and strode to the doors of the transporter room, which swooshed open as they approached. John went over to the transporter chief, handed him a PADD, and said, "Two to beam to those coordinates, Lieutenant." "Aye," responded the chief, and Randall and Redhawk ascended the transporter dais. After a few seconds, the chief looked up at John and nodded. "Energize," Randall said, and the two men shimmered out of existence. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 11306.17) Challenger had made it back from their time travel mission to the 20th century, 1969 to be exact, and now the ship was safely in drydock at Earth's spaceyards. The crew had been debriefed, and orders were then given for the crew to have 2 weeks of shore leave. John sat at the main console in Engineering; he was supervising the starbase maintenance workers and engineers while they did their tasks aboard Challenger. The young lieutenant was then planning on calling his brother Richard on Centaurus, and have him come pick John up to stay with his family for his shore leave. At least, those were the plans before John was contacted by Admiral Jason Baldwin, who intimated to the young lieutenant that he, Baldwin, had some information that Randall might find compelling. Engineering Chief Lieutenant Commander Eddie Freeman appeared, he had been spending some time in his cabin, and walked up to the main console. As he passed by where John was sitting, he remarked, "Man, it's good to not have that NASA goon following me around all day." John grinned and said, "Yeah, bet it is. I'm glad you're here, chief; I need to talk to the captain, here's what's going on." Suiting action to words, a report appeared on the console monitor where Freeman was sitting. The report contained the contact from Admiral Jason Baldwin to John while Freeman had been in his cabin. As he accessed the information, the engineering chief asked, "What's up?", then his eyes widened slightly as he read the report. John said, "It's a.....personal matter. I'll fill you in later, huh?" Freeman absently nodded as he read the report. "I'll hold the fort, no worries," he said. A few minutes went by while Freeman read the report, and John had some reports from the starbase workers come up on his monitor. He signed off on them after reading, then reached over and punched the 'comm button. "Engineering to bridge," he said. "Captain Ja'Lale or Commander Rinax, come in, please." There was no immediate answer, so he tried again a minute later. A reply came from the ops officer. "Both the captain and the XO are off the ship. I can forward your comm if you like?" Randall frowned and said, "No, that's all right, I had something personal to discuss with the captain, but I guess it'll have to wait. Randall out." The acknowledgment came back from the bridge, and John sat where he was for a few seconds, then looked across the console at Freeman. "Chief, see you in your office for a sec?" he asked. Freeman looked up from his monitor, and said, "Hmmm? Sure," and he got up to go to his office, John on his heels. The two men entered the chief's office, and John keyed the door shut. Freeman sat down behind his desk, and raised his eyebrows at his number two officer. John said, "Chief, I have something personal to tell you, and I don't think you're gonna like it." "Uh-oh," said Freeman. "What's up?" Randall took a deep breath, and said, "Well, you know that Starfleet Intelligence, for want of a better term, 'recruited' me for a mission last year." "Yeah, creepy set, Intelligence," mused the chief engineer. "Well, as you read in the report, about two hours ago, I was contacted by the same admiral who contacted me last year," John said. Freeman's eyes narrowed. "And he wants to 'recruit' you again, right?" "Well, he didn't exactly say that," said the assistant chief engineer. "He said he had some information that I would find, er, personally compelling." "Hm," said Eddie. "Strings attached, I'm guessing?" Randall said, "He gave me a set of coordinates, and told me to come whenever I could. So, I thought I'd better tell someone this time, in light of what happened last year." "Hm," Freeman said again. "Just a set of coordinates, and 'come when you can'; that's setting off alarm bells all over the place." "My thoughts exactly," agreed John. "I wish Commander Rinax had been on the bridge; she might have given me a little insight. But, she wasn't, so I guess I'll see what I'm getting into." "Yeah," replied Freeman. "You definitely need to tell one of them; I've only dealt with Starfleet Intelligence once, and it was....ugly." "Yep," said John. "Maybe I'll try to contact her again before I go. Just wanted you to know." Eddie nodded. "Thanks for giving me the heads-up. Good luck, and take a weapon if you can. There's a hook in that bait; almost has to be." Randall nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I've got a, er, slightly illegal Mark II phaser, think I'll take it. See you later, chief." "See you," Freeman responded, and stood up from behind his desk. John left the office, and went back to the main console. He toggled the 'comm, and said, "Engineering to bridge, has Commander Rinax returned yet?" There was no answer, so he tried again. When there was still no answer, he sighed deeply. "Apparently everyone's left," he said to no one in particular. Just then, Commander Erica Rinax's voice came over the 'comm. "Rinax here," it said. John rolled his eyes, and said, "Well, Commander, you're a hard one to get hold of." Rinax said, "We're basically down to a skeleton crew, sorry. What can I do for you?" John said, "Commander, I need to see you face to face, please. I'm going to give you a name, and when you hear it, I think you'll know in what capacity I need to see you. The name is Admiral Jason Baldwin." There was a second or two of silence, then the commander said, "I am on the bridge; please visit at your convenience." "I'll be right up, sir," John said. "Randall out." He got up from the console, and headed toward the doors. They whooshed open at his approach, and he went out into the corridor, heading for the turbolift. He arrived, and stepped in. "Bridge," he said, and the lift sped off. He arrived at the bridge, and exited the 'lift; he stepped out onto the bridge, looked around, and saw Rinax at her first officer's chair. He walked over to her. "Commander," he said, and Rinax looked up. "Ah," she said. "Would you like to go to the ready room to discuss this?" "Yes, thank you, sir," John said, and the commander nodded, and got up out of her chair. She led the way to the captain's ready room, and they both entered. Rinax sat down at the table in the ready room, and John marched to the head of the table, standing almost at attention. "Commander, I'll get right to the point," he said. "I have been contacted by Admiral Baldwin; he wants to meet me at these coords." He handed Rinax a PADD, and the commander instantly glanced at it, and typed in the coordinates in the console at the table. While she was busy, Randall continued, "I have no idea what this is about, but felt I should tell someone this time." Rinax looked up at him, and said, "Please, do relax," as she motioned to an empty chair. John hesitantly sat down, and Rinax noted the 3-D image on the monitor of where the coordinates were located. She then looked at John, and said, "When are you supposed to be arriving?" Randall shrugged. "He says any time I'm free," he replied. "So, it's a casual drop-in meeting?" inquired the executive officer. "As it was last time," John answered. "I'm sure you've read my logs from that last time." Rinax nodded absently. "Have you determined what your next course of action will be, or are you waiting on a command decision?" she asked. "I just thought a senior officer should know about this one in case I get 'recruited' again," replied the lieutenant. "Can you wait to meet with him until I have a discussion with the captain?" she inquired, and John nodded. "If you want me to, absolutely," he agreed. "After all, you are under our command, not his directly," she said a bit archly. "After the last taa-de-taa, I don't see any reason why he shouldn't be going through proper channels. The captain may have something to say about this, and want to set up backup for you." John smiled. "The thought did cross my mind, sir," he said, and stood up. "Anyway, I wanted you or the captain to know about this." "Can you stay on the ship until I talk to the captain?" she asked, and Randall nodded. "Very well, then," Rinax said. "I will contact the captain. Dismissed." John came to attention briefly, then turned and left the ready room. He strode across the bridge to the turbolift, and entered. "Deck 3," he said, and the 'lift whisked him away. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 11305.31) John shimmered back into existence aboard Challenger; his first thought was, 'It's great to be home.' He stepped down off the transporter pad, and nodded at the transporter chief. "Welcome home, Lieutenant," said the chief. "Good to be home, Lieutenant," replied Randall, and exited the transporter room, heading for the turbolift. "Deck 3," he said, and the lift whisked him away to his new quarters. He arrived, and exited the lift; he made his way along the corridor, acknowledging the welcome-backs and the hails of various crewmembers he passed. He came to his cabin, and went inside. Other than being a little bigger than his old cabin, there wasn't much difference between the two. The rooms were a bit larger, but not that much, and John was satisfied. He stowed away his gear, and returned his Colt .45 revolver to its case. 'Grandpa would've been proud,' he thought, and smiled to himself as he stowed away the antique weapon. He felt in need of a shower, and stripped off his civilian clothes to go take one. Some 20 minutes later, he exited the shower, toweled off, and exited the head. He made his way over to the computer terminal, and called up the duty roster. Seeing he was scheduled to report to Engineering in about 6 hours, he decided to take a nap. He got into his pajamas, climbed into bed, and fell asleep. The computer woke him five and a half hours later; he arose, went into the head to shave and freshen up, then put on his duty uniform, which felt kind of strange at first, and smiled to himself in the mirror. 'Gotta get used to wearing this again,' he thought, and left his cabin to grab some breakfast. 'One good thing about being on this deck,' he thought to himself as he made his way along the corridor. 'The officers' mess is on the same level.' He arrived there, went up to the ordering wall, gave and received his order, and sat down at a nearby table to eat. A few minutes later, he deposited the remains of his breakfast into the recycler, and left the officers' mess, heading for the turbolift. "Deck 12," he said as he entered, and the lift sped off. He arrived, and made his way along the corridor to Engineering. The doors swooshed open as he approached, and he went inside. The crew greeted him with glad cries and warm sentiments; he acknowledged them all, then put them back to work. He went up to the main console, sat down at a terminal, and logged in for duty. He then punched the 'comm. "Randall to Davis," he said. A few seconds later, his friend Ensign Steve Davis answered. "Davis here, go ahead, Lieutenant." "Status report, Steve," said John. "Aye, sir," said Davis. "The replacement crystals are installed, and showing green across the board, sir. All systems are nominal at this time." "Acknowledged, ensign," replied Randall. "Steve, you've done a great job here. It will be noted in the report to Starfleet." "Thanks, John," came back Davis. "Anything else?" "Yes," replied Randall. "Report to the main console, please; I will need your help for the time jump calculations." "Acknowledged, Lieutenant," said Davis. "On my way. Davis out." John smiled as he turned back to the terminal, and the 'comm beeped. "Bridge to Engineering," came the voice of Captain Ja'Lale. "Randall here, sir," replied John. "Ah, welcome back, Lieutenant Randall," said the captain. "Status report, please." "Thank you, sir," said John. "The replacement crystals have been installed, and are showing green across the board, sir. All systems are reporting nominal." "Acknowledged, Lieutenant," replied Ja'Lale. "Are we ready to jump back home?" "I was about to start the calculations, sir," said Randall. "Give me about an hour, and we should be ready." "Acknowledged, Lieutenant," Ja'Lale said. "Report when you're ready." "Aye, sir, Randall out," said John as Steve Davis arrived, and sat down at a terminal next to him. "Hey, Steve, glad you're here, my friend," said John as the two friends grinned at each other. "The captain sounds like he's chomping at the bit, so we better get to it, I guess." "Aye, sir," grinned Davis, and he laughed as Randall rolled his eyes. He gave Davis a friendly punch in the arm, and the two men began the calculations for the time jump. Some 55 minutes later, the last numbers were inputted, and Randall ran the simulation. The computer confirmed the equations for the jump, and the two men sighed in relief. John told Steve to start inputting the numbers into the warp core station, Davis left to do just that, and John hit the 'comm button. "Engineering to bridge." A few seconds later, Ja'Lale's voice came over the 'comm. "Bridge here, go ahead, Lieutenant." "Sir, the calculations are complete, and we should be good for the jump home," reported Randall. "Excellent, Lieutenant," replied the captain. "How soon can we go?" "15 minutes, sir," said John. "Fine, I will inform the crew. Good job as always, Lieutenant. Bridge out." John sighed, then pushed the button for the department mic. "This is Randall. We are preparing for the time jump home. Everyone to your stations, strap in, and pay double attention to your boards. Stay conscious as long as you can, and be sure to rig your station for computer control if you pass out. See you in the 23rd century. Randall out." The crew scurried to their stations, and the captain's voice came over the shipwide system, warning all hands about the imminent jump. John joined Davis at the warp core panel after putting his other close friend, Ensign Jeff Michaels, at the main console to help monitor them. The two men inputted the equations into the panel, set it for computer takeover in case they succumbed to unconsciousness, and Randall gave orders to the computer to that effect. A few minutes later, the order came from Ja'Lale to start the jump, and the two men tightened their holds on their chairs. The ship took off with barely noticeable movement, but a vibration soon made itself aware as they increased speed for the slingshot around the sun. John kept his eyes glued to the panel as the ship's speed neared the breakaway point of warp 9.7. A few minutes later, both men did indeed pass out. When they came to, they immediately looked at the panel, and were gratified to see that the braking thrusters had fired right on schedule. John asked the computer what the current stardate was, and he was immensely grateful and surprised when the computer informed him that the stardate was only five minutes later than when they had first left for the mission. The men looked at each other and grinned, and shook hands in tired triumph. Randall asked about the status of the new dilithium crystals, and the computer informed him the crystals were fine, and, if needed, could undergo recrystallization when the ship put in for drydock. John unstrapped himself from his chair, and went to check on the rest of the engineering crew. They were all fine, and were going about their duties. John went to the main console, and called up the ship's course; they were headed to a starbase for drydock, and the base was close by. They would be there in minutes. The captain's voice came over the 'comm system, and stated that shore leave woud be possible for the crew while he saw about receiving new orders from Starfleet. The crew cheered at the announcement, and the ship eased into drydock at the starbase about thirty minutes later. John wished the crew a good shore leave, then waited at the main console for the first batch of starbase engineers and workers to arrive in engineering. He mainly sat at the console, receiving and acknowledging reports from the starbase workers for the next couple of hours. Then the 'comm beeped, and a familiar face appeared on the monitor screen. When it did, John couldn't believe his eyes. It was Admiral Jason Baldwin, the same admiral that had recruited Randall for an intelligence mission last year, a mission where John got into a fight with a Klingon, and nearly lost his life. "Lieutenant Randall, good to see you again," came the deep bass voice of the admiral. John nodded to him. "Admiral Baldwin, how are you, sir?" he replied. "I am well, Lieutenant, thank you for asking," Baldwin said. "Congratulations on the success of your mission." "Thank you, sir," John said. "May I inquire as to the reason for this call?" Baldwin regarded him for a moment. "John, I have some news that you may want to hear in person," said the admiral, and Randall's eyebrows raised. "Have you been authorized for shore leave?" John nodded warily. "I have, sir, but I need to remain here to supervise the starbase workers whle they're in engineering. Commander Freeman is still recuperating from the mission, I believe," he said. Baldwin nodded. "Let me know when you're free, Lieutenant," he said. "It's important to both of us that we talk face to face. Contact me at these coordinates." The numbers came up on the screen, and John nodded. "Acknowledged and received, sir," he said. "I'll contact you as soon as I can." "I look forward to it, John," Baldwin said. "Baldwin out." The screen went dark, and John sat back in his chair, letting out a huge sigh. 'Wonder what this is about,' he thought. A thought came into his head about his father, but he immediately shunted that aside. 'No expectations,' he told himself firmly. 'Let them tell you.' Still, he couldn't help but wonder. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 11305.30 16 July 1969 O.E.) John awakened form a deep slumber as the alarm clock went off at 6:30 a.m. Eastern Standard Time. He sat up on the side of his bed, yawned and stretched, then grabbed a couple of towels, exited his room, and went down the hallway to the main bathroom to take a shower. Some 15 minutes later, he toweled off, then shaved, and went back down the hallway to his room. He changed into everyday civilian clothes, as his supervisor at the Kennedy Space Center, Chris Barber, had given them this day off so the NASA technicians could go watch the fruits of their labors, so to speak. Barber had given them permission to go watch the actual launch of the Saturn V rocket that would carry the astronauts to the moon. John's cab arrived at the safe house at 6:55, and the cab ferried him to the Center. John got out, paid off the cabbie, and went inside, showing his ID badge to the guard, who nodded and waved him through. John had a specific purpose in mind for today's visit to the Center; he was going to personally get Ed Freeman out of the office that he had been virtually imprisoned in, and take him over to the launch site. There was also another reason: after the Challenger team had found the sinister looking device hidden inside the space capsule, they were now on full red alert to watch for any signs of another attempt by the still unknown terrorist group to sabotage the history-making mission to the moon. John went to the main assembly room of the VAB (Vehicle Assembly Building), ascended the stairs to the second floor, where the offices were located, and went down the hallway to the one that housed his boss aboard Challenger, and his friend, Ed Freeman. He arrived, and glared at the guard. "I'm here to see my friend," he growled, and the guard just nodded, and went out into the hallway. Freeman had turned when he heard Randall's voice, and regarded him curiously as John walked into the office. " 'Sup?" he asked. Randall walked over to him. "How you doing?" he asked. Freeman shrugged, and replied, "Can't complain. Maybe with the launch today, the director will let me outta here. Or maybe he'll just fire me." He got out of his chair, and hoisted a hip upon the corner of his desk. "How about you?" he asked Randall. John smiled and said, "I'm doing good, and I am here to tell you that you're coming with me to watch the lift-off." Freeman nodded, eyes widening slightly, and said, "My minder will have to follow, probably; unless you're gonna stop me entirely?" The guard had re-entered the office upon hearing Randall's declaration, but, when he saw the determined look on John's face, and Freeman also regarding him in somewhat of a hostile manner, silently decided it couldn't do any harm, and shook his head negatively. John walked up to the guard, and stared him straight in the eyes. "No problem," said the Challenger engineer. "This guy is gonna let you go, one way or the other. If you got a problem with this," he said to the guard, "I suggest you get hold of your superior, because my friend IS coming with me." The guard looked straight back at Randall, shifted his position uncomfortably, then said, "He's allowed to go to the launch site, but I have to escort him." John nodded. "That's all I need to know," he said. He turned back to Freeman. "Come on, Eddie," he said. "I have a car downstairs, provided by Barber." He looked back to the guard. "We'll give you a ride," he said, and the guard nodded that it was all right with him. "All right," Freeman said, and got up off the desk to follow John downstairs, the guard bringing up the rear. The three men walked along the hallway, and descended the staircase to the main assembly area. As they went into the lobby, the guard flashed a sign to his compatriot behind the desk, whose eyes had widened when he saw Freeman with the group. The desk guard nodded, and the men went out into the parking lot area, heading for a car with a NASA rearview mirror badge hanging from it. The badge, Barber had promised, would allow them access to any area of the complex. They arrived at the vehicle, and got in, John taking the wheel. They drove away from the VAB, and navigated their way to the launch site; as promised, they had no trouble with security; they were immediately waved through as the guard saw the NASA badge hanging from the mirror. John searched for a parking space, finally found one, and pulled in. The two engineers had been listening in on their comlinks as the rest of the away team had spotted a suspicious-looking vehicle that had been admitted to the launch site area. Freeman, during the ride, had been looking out the window, trying to spot the designated car. The men exited the vehicle, and both John and Eddie made sure their weapons were accessible as they got out of the car. As the guard climbed out of the backseat, John caught Eddie's eye, and gave an exaggerated nod. Freeman raised his eyebrow in response, then both men looked at the guard as he turned to them. "Well, this way, I guess," said the guard awkwardly, and the Challenger engineers fell into step behind him. Over their comlinks, the men heard a confrontation developing, and glanced at each other, grim looks on their faces. But, the space gods must have been with them; the guard took them to almost the exact area where the driver of the suspicious vehicle was apparently making yet another attempt to stop or sabotage the launch. Involuntarily, Freeman started drifting in the direction where the driver was standing. The guard noticed, and started to go after him when John suddenly bent over to ostensibly tie his shoe. It just so happened that he was directly in the path of the guard, who had to stop, and all he could do was watch Freeman. John stood back up, and he and the guard watched Freeman make his way back from where Starfleet Marine Jack O'Neill had apprehended the driver of the car. Randall had overheard the exchange between O'Neill and the driver, who turned out to be a woman, and, as Freeman drew alongside him, the Challenger chief engineer whispered, "Remind me to buy that guy a beer." He and Randall then assumed their places beside the guard. John whispered back, "We'll get him a case if he wants it." Freeman nodded, and started scanning the crowd. John did the same, and the guard now started watching both men. He didn't like Randall anyway, and was now determined to keep an eye on him as well. John, who had been surreputiously watching the guard, decided to do a little playacting for the guard's benefit. He elbowed Freeman in the arm, and spoke loudly. "Hey, catch an eyeful of the chick in the third row, the blonde in the tank top," he said to Freeman. The engineer looked where John had specified, wondering if this was a ploy for the guard's benefit. and suspecting it was. The guard also was looking, and John saw him. "So, what do you think, dude?" he asked the guard. "Do you see her?" The guard was actually startled by Randall's question; recovering, he said haltingly, "Uh, can't really see that well from here; but looks nice, though." John gave a short laugh, and said, "Man, I'm always on the lookout for a good-looking chick; lot of fish in the sea, you know?" He winked at the guard, who stared at him for a second, then nervously replied, "Um, I'm not allowed to spend too much time being distracted while I'm on duty; especially not on this job." Randall lightly shrugged his shoulders, and said, "Don't know what you're missing, my man," he said lightly, but underneath, he was seething. 'I'd like to knock this guy out,' he thought to himself, then just ignored the guard, and resumed scanning the crowd. Over their comlinks, the engineers heard the news that the suspicious woman had been sedated, and beamed up to the ship. As they continued to scan the crowd, John thought to himself, 'Now, if I were gonna try something, where would I try it from?' He and Freeman made eye contact briefly as they scanned the crowd, and Randall could tell Freeman was thinking the same thing. As John idly shifted his gaze to the rocket, he saw the astronauts walking along the catwalk to the rocket, and suddenly thought, 'The catwalk. They may have a sniper somewhere.' But, much to his relief, the astronauts made it to the capsule without incident. And, at the same moment, the announcement came over the public address system that the astronauts had boarded the rocket, and a big cheer went up from the crowd. The two engineers looked at each other, and relaxed somewhat. All that had to happen now was the rocket launching successfully. A half hour later, that's exactly what happened. The rocket took off from the launch platform with a lot of fire and a spectacular WHOOSH, to the roar of the crowd gathered. The two engineers watched as the rocket went up into the sky, then looked at each other, and smiled. John then turned to the guard. "Okay, man, you can escort us back to the VAB; the show's over." The guard nodded, and led the way back to the vehicle they had arrived in. The men got in the car, and drove back to the VAB. They exited the vehicle, and marched into the lobby. The desk guard saw them, and shouted at the other guard to bring John and Eddie over. The men went to the desk, and the desk guard said, "Mr. Freeman, you are to be escorted to the director's office." He nodded at the other guard, Freeman gave Randall a look and raised his eyebrows, and the two men departed. The desk guard then said, "Mr. Randall, you are to report to Chris Barber's office." John nodded, and set out for the main assembly room of the VAB. He arrived at the staircase leading up to the second floor, and made his way down the hallway to Barber's office, where the NASA technician had been watching the launch via closed-circuit TV. He smiled at Randall as the Challenger engineer entered the office. "John, good to see you," he said. "Sit down, please," and he indicated the overstuffed chair in front of his desk. Randall sat down, and looked at him. "John, your service has been exemplary during this moon mission, and I am very grateful to you for providing it," said Barber. "I feel very confident about this mission; in fact, something tells me this will turn out to be an extrordinary one." John thought, 'You don't know how right you are,' but kept his expression carefully neutral. "Just glad I could help, sir," he said modestly. Barber smiled. "You did a lot more than help, Mr. Randall; don't be so modest. I was wondering, and the reason I sent for you, what your future plans are?" John had been anticipating this, and, some two days earlier, had requested Morrison to make some official- looking documents that would state a request from the nuclear plant at Oak Ridge, Tennessee, to come work for them. It wasn't really that far-fetched; as a matter of fact, John had learned that a John Francis Randall had indeed been employed as an engineer at the Tennessee nuclear plant in the early 1970's. For all history knew, he was that man. He had learned about the other John Randall by having the computer onboard Challenger do a trace on his family's ancestry. "Well, sir, I have received a request from the nuclear plant at Oak Ridge, Tennessee, to come work for them," he said. "It's closer to home, and, actually, pays a tad better than here. So, I decided to take them up on their offer. Here's the request," and he took the document out of his shirt pocket, giving it to Barber. The NASA technician sighed as he read it. He put it down, and looked at John. "I hate to lose you, John," he said regretfully. "But, I can see why you would want this position. Good luck to you, my friend, and I'll send a letter of recommendation to the office there. They're getting a fine engineer, as far as I'm concerned." He stood up, and held out his hand. John took it, and the two men shook hands. "If I ever get up toward Tennessee, I may look you up," grinned Barber. "You do that, sir," replied John. "You would be welcome any time. Thank you for the opportunity you gave me here. I've learned a lot." "Thanks again for your service, John," Barber replied. The two men lifted a hand to each other, and John exited the office. He made his way along the hallway, and descended the staircase to the main assembly room. He paused for a moment before entering the main lobby, and made a note to himself to visit the museum here in his own time when they got back. He reflected for a moment on being part of history, then went through the door into the main lobby. He made his way to the guard desk, and removed his ID badge. The guard gave him a look, and John said, "My time is done. See you around." The guard nodded, and John went into the foyer to call his cab. A few minutes later, the cab arrived, and John was transported to the safe house. He paid off the cab, and walked across the yard to the house. He went inside, and made his way down the hallway to his room. He packed his clothes and equipment, made sure nothing was left behind, then pulled out his communicator. "Randall to Challenger, one to beam up," he said. A few seconds later, the musical chime sounded, and John shimmered out of existence. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 11305.05 14-15 July 1969 O.E.) SUNDAY It was Sunday morning, July 14, 1969 O.E.; but for John Randall, it was another day on the job at the Kennedy Space Center's VAB (Vehicle Assembly Building). He and several other engineers/technicians had been called in to work by their boss, Chris Barber. With the moon launch scheduled to take place on the coming Tuesday, Barber wanted to get a head start on the final assembly of the Saturn V rocket that would take the astronauts into space. John arrived at the VAB at 6:54 a.m., paid off the taxicab, and went in the front door of the VAB. He flashed his ID to the sleepy guard, who waved him through. He went down the hall to the locker room, changed into NASA work clothes, and started for the main assembly room, only to be greeted by a notice on the door that all technicians were to report to the conference room on the second floor. John turned and made for the staircase that led up to the second floor. He ascended the stairs, and made his way down the hallway to the doors of the conference room. He went inside, nodding at the technicians already gathered there, most of whom he knew or knew of by now, and sat down in a chair. He glanced around the table, and most of the other men were exhibiting the same responses/mannerisms he was; trying hard to stay awake. A few minutes later, Chris Barber came into the room, and walked to the head of the table. He glanced around, smiling at the ones who were struggling to stay awake. "Good morning, gentlemen," he said, and the men acknowledged him with sleepy voices. "It is vitally important that we all do our jobs well," he continued. "We have a big day on Tuesday, and we need everyone to be at their best." John nodded along with the rest of the group. Barber quickly outlined the jobs the men would be mainly concentrating on today, then said, "Well, gentlemen, that's all I have. Let's get to it. And, oh, by the way, since it's Sunday, you get double-time pay today. Let's try to be finished by 1 o'clock so we can all go home. Hop to it!" As the men filed out of the conference room, Barber came over to John and took him by the arm. "John, you look better today," he said. "Are you over your illness?" Randall nodded. "I think so, sir," he replied. "The prescription the doctor wrote me really helped." Randall, of course, had been treated by Challenger chief medical officer Gretchen Hanson, and she had taken samples of his blood and stomach contents to be beamed up to the ship's lab for analysis. There had been no word from the ship as of yet. Barber smiled. "Good, good," he said. "I tell you what, though. Just to be on the safe side, how about we keep you on the ground assembly crew? Wouldn't want you to have a dizzy spell on the scaffold." John nodded. "Neither would I, sir; sure, that's fine with me." The NASA technician clapped him on the shoulder. "All right, then," he said. "Let's go see what we can do today, and get out of here to enjoy our afternoon." "I'm with you, sir," replied the Challenger engineer, and he followed Barber down the stairs to the main assembly area. The men split up into their individual teams, and began their work. John soon became the 'go-to-guy' on his team as his teammates were constantly amazed by his knowledge of the engines. John's team sped along at a rate that did not go unnoticed by Barber. He watched Randall move continually through his team, helping with something there, pointing out something here. 'That man has learned fast since he got here,' thought the NASA technician to himself. 'He must have gotten top marks at the university he attended.' Randall's team, unsurprisingly to Barber, finished their tasks ahead of the other teams. Barber kept his eyes on John, and, a few seconds later, one of the technicians on one of the other teams yelled at him. Randall went over, and, a few seconds later, was pointing something out to the man who had called him over. A short while later, the men were finished with their tasks. John had wound up helping the other teams as well, and one of the technicians, as amazed as all the rest, suggested to Barber that Randall be the utility man for them. The rest agreed heartily, and Barber told John he had a new role. Then, he looked at the group. "Gentlemen, I am impressed," he said. "You all have done a great job." He glanced at his watch. "And, in less time than I expected. You can all go home, but be ready for a long day tomorrow. We've got the rocket pretty well assembled; we'll be using the launcher platform to do the rest. Be here at 5 a.m. tomorrow morning, and see you then." The men gave a shout, and headed to the locker room to prepare to go to their respective homes. John went along with a group of the men that were heading to the front of the building to clock out. He did so himself, and a few minutes later, his taxi arrived to transport him to the safe house. The taxi dropped him off, Randall paid the driver, and walked across the yard to the house. He went into his room, changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and went to the kitchen to grab a can of Pepsi-Cola from the refrigerator. As he popped the top open and took a long drink, he noticed some of the away team gathered in the dining room. He watched for a second or two to make sure it wasn't a formal meeting, which it wasn't, and took his can of soda to the living room. He sat across from the air conditioner, then got up and turned on the television. He flipped channels until he found a baseball game, and sat back down to watch. The rest of the day passed uneventfully. MONDAY The alarm clock sounded at 4:35 a.m. on the morning of July 15, 1969 O.E. John rolled over, snapped off the alarm, and got out of bed. He grabbed some clothes, and went down the hall to the bathroom to take a shower. He finished, toweled off, dressed, and went to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. The taxi arrived, he walked out to it, and the cab whisked him away. He arrived at the VAB, paid off the driver, and told him he didn't know what time he would call. The driver nodded and sped away. John walked in the front door, flashed his ID badge to the guard, and went to the locker room to change into his NASA work clothes. He made his way to the assembly area, and was greeted by his fellow technicians. John told them to get to it, it was going to be a long day, and the men nodded, and set about their tasks. The first two and a half hours went by without a hitch, and John told the men to take a break. They all went to the small break room on the left side of the assembly room. The men got snacks and drinks, and settled down at the tables to rest a bit. John sat down at a table with a can of Pepsi-Cola. David Andrews came into the break room, got himself a can of soda, and came over to John's table. The engineer smiled at him as Andrews sat down. "Man, it's turning into a circus out there," the NASA technician said. He was referring to the large group of reporters and media people that had already gathered at the VAB. John nodded, agreeing with him, but for a different reason. The Challenger engineer was very concerned and alarmed at the sheer number of the media people. 'This would be perfect cover for one of the terrorists to try something,' he thought to himself. He looked at Andrews. "Yeah, the reporters are getting ready, all right," he said. Andrews leaned closer to him, and lowered his voice. "Between you and me, John, I'll be glad when this launch happens," he said. Randall looked at him, likewise lowering his voice. "Why is that, David?" he asked. Andrews was about to reply when Barber stuck his head in the door. "Okay, A crew, we need you guys at the platform, let's go!" The men finished their snacks and drinks, John included, and headed out the door to the massive launch platform. John lingered behind the group, and found himself alone for a second. He tapped his ear bud, activating the away team's comm link. Speaking in a low murmur, he said, "There are way too many people here; it's gonna be hard to keep an eye on anyone." A few seconds later, the voice of Starfleet Marine Major Kimiko Johnson sounded in his ear. "Just keep your eye on the rocket, we've got the people covered." "Roger that," acknowledged Randall, and he caught up with his team. As he rejoined his team, another voice sounded in his ear. "Be sure to give the rocket a nice thorough going-over," said Commander Zach Murphy, the CO of the away team. John turned slowly, looking over the crowd, and spotted Murphy. He put up a thumb, the commander nodded once, and blended back into the crowd of reporters. As John turned back to his team, he saw Barber at the foot of the platform, a frown crossing his face. Randall knew the NASA technician didn't like the situation with the reporters any more than he did. He told his crew to begin the ground survey, and he himself fell in with them, having activated his ocular implants, hoping to get some assistance from the people manning the monitors, namely Marine Captain Cassidy Granger, and Morrison, the other CO of the away team. John's team completed the ground engine survey, and Randall decided he wanted to take a personal look at the middle part of the rocket. He ascended the ladder at the side of the launch platform, and stepped onto the scaffold. John began his visual inspection, wishing he had his tricorder. He had missed it very badly on this particular mission. He made his way slowly around the rocket, then came to a sudden stop. He squatted down, and heard Murphy's voice over the comm link. "You okay up there?" the commander asked, and immediately after that, Granger's voice saying, "Move left one meter." Randall tapped his ear bud in acknowledgement to both parties, and moved to his left. He had spotted a rivet on one of the panels that had minute scratches on it, and knew the rivet had had something done to it very recently. Granger's voice sounded in his ear again. "Open the panel to your left." John knew then his ocular implants were functioning perfectly; Granger had seen on the monitor what he had. He got his toolkit open on his belt, and opened the panel. What he saw inside made his blood run cold. Inside the panel, attached to the side of the hull, was a gray box-shaped object. Randall knew this object had not been in the place it was now last night. Granger asked him, "Are you trained in EOD?" John replied in the negative, and the female Marine captain said, "If not, stand back." John tapped his ear bud in acknowledgement, replaced the panel cover, and stood up. Granger's voice sounded in his ear. "Evacuate the area." "What's my cover story?" asked John. "Lean against the fire alarm," came the reply. "Roger that," John said, and casually walked over to the ladder, climbing down to ground level. As John's feet hit the ground, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Barber was watching him. He reported it to Granger, who told him to pretend to trip, or something. He acknowledged, and when he turned back, Barber was watching the rest of John's team. Randall noticed a fire alarm a little ways off against a wall. He casually made his way over to its vicinity. He leaned against the wall for a second, then pretended to lose his balance, and made sure his hand pulled down the switch on the alarm. Instantly, a loud ringing sounded, and the security guards leapt into action, driving everyone outside the building to the lawn outside. Randall heard Barber yell, "Fire alarm! Everyone to emergency exits, NOW!!!" John made his way over to his group, trying to look as surprised and bewildered as everyone else. The technicians made their way to their designated point, and turned to watch the chaos as the security guards tried to herd the people to safety. Randall wandered a little ways off, and tapped his ear bud. "Commander, is EOD on the way, sir?" A few seconds later, Murphy's voice said, "Aye, roger that. They're on their way now." "Acknowledged," said John, and made his way back to the group. He smiled at David Andrews as the technician spotted him. Andrews, however, just waved at John as he veered off to talk to someone else. Randall listened via his comm link as arrangements were made to beam the box up to the ship, then he spotted Barber making his way to the group. As the NASA technician arrived, John asked innocently, "What happened, sir?" Barber, looking a bit haggard, replied, "Well, the fire alarm went off for some reason. Maybe the firefighters will discover the source." He looked around at the group. "You guys all right?" he asked, and they all nodded. John listened via his ear bud as the ship successfully beamed up the box-like object, and he relaxed, then raised his eyebrows as Barber turned to him. "I wonder if that fire alarm has something wrong with the wiring." John nodded. "Could be, sir; it's been known to happen." Barber nodded, then turned to watch the chaos in front of him. John thought darkly to himself, 'Well, they made their move, and we still have no idea who planted that device. Good thing we caught it, or their mission would have succeeded.' He was not looking forward to the rest of the day. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 13004.21 11 July 1969 O.E.) The alarm clock sounded next to John's bed far too early for his liking; he was in the middle of a pleasant dream. He groaned, rubbed his eyes, and wearily sat up on the side of his bed. Last night had been a particularly humid one, and John didn't feel all that rested or refreshed. Even the air conditioner, which had run all night, didn't help that much, or so it seemed to him. He grabbed a couple of towels, and left his room, heading for the main bathroom to take a shower. Some 15 minutes later, a cool shower having revitalized him to a certain degree, he toweled off, and went back to his room to get dressed for the day at work. He put on his clothes, and went to the kitchen to grab a bite of breakfast. He toasted a couple of Pop Tarts (at least that's what they were called on the box that contained them), got a glass of orange juice, and went to the dining room to eat. He finished breakfast, washed out his glass, glanced at the clock, and saw it was about time for his taxi. He went out to the driveway as the taxicab pulled up; he got in, and told the driver to take him to Kennedy. That's all you had to say, he had learned after a couple of days into the mission. A little while later, the cab pulled into the parking lot of the VAB (Vehicle Assembly Building), and he got out, paid the cab driver, and walked into the complex, heading for the time clock. A sleepy guard peered briefly at his ID badge, and nodded at him, knowing John by sight now. The Challenger engineer went down the hallway to an office that had been assigned to him by Chris Barber, John's boss at the VAB. Randall was in information gathering mode today; Barber had told him he wanted a little more background on a couple of the engines before the assembly began in earnest tomorrow, the 12th of July. John had mentally groaned at that; he would actually have to read paper documents to do his research, as he had no access to a computer. He sat down at the desk, looked at the pile of documents left on it by Barber, and sighed heavily. 'This would take about 5 minutes on the ship,' he thought ruefully, took the first document off the pile, and began to read. A couple of breaks later, it was time for lunch. John abandoned the pile of papers, stood up, stretched, and left the office, heading for the cafeteria. He arrived with a host of others, grabbed a tray, and made his way through the line at the counter. He noticed there was a new face amongst the cooks today; a tall, slim man with a nondescript face. He didn't think anything more about it as he paid for his lunch, took his tray over to an empty table, and sat down to eat. He finished his lunch, took his tray over to the garbage can and deposited the remains of his meal. He made his way back to the main complex and climbed the stairs to the second floor. He was making his way down the hallway to his office when a sharp pain ripped through his stomach. He groaned, and clutched at his midsection as another pain shot through him. He began to sweat profusely, and knew something was wrong. He stumbled down the hallway, hugging the wall for support, until he arrived at Barber's office. The NASA technician looked up as he entered. "Hello, John, what's up?" he smiled, then quickly his look changed to concern as Randall turned his pain-filled face to him. "I think I'm going to knock off early, sir," gasped the engineer. "Something's wrong with my stomach, it's killing me." Barber regarded him with concern as John held his midsection tightly. "We have doctors here, John, would you like me to call one for you?" Randall groaned, then nodded. "I-I guess so, if you want to, sir," he said. Barber nodded, and quickly picked up the phone. "This is Chris Barber in the VAB. I need a doctor here fast." He hung up, and looked at Randall. "A doctor will be here in about 5 minutes, John. Sit down in that chair there, and I'll get you some water." The NASA technician went into the small bathroom to do just that as John sat down in the overstuffed chair in front of Barber's desk. Barber came back out with a cup of water, and handed it to Randall, who smiled his thanks, and drank it down. A few minutes later, a doctor arrived. Barber filled him in on the situation, and the doctor bent over John to take a look at him. A short time later, the doctor straightened, and looked at Barber. "Well, this man has all the symptoms of an intestinal bug," he said. "I would advise you to send him home, tell him to rest, cool off, and drink plenty of fluids. I will write him a prescription for some medicine." Barber smiled at Randall. "Ok, John, you heard the man," he said. "You're going home." The engineer smiled weakly back at him. "Ok, boss," he said as the doctor handed him a note. Barber picked up the phone, and dialed a number. A second later, he said, "Hello, Eddie, this is Barber, I have a mission for you. Your friend John Randall has been taken ill. Would you see that he gets to his home, please?" There was a reply, then Barber said, "He is in my office. The doctor has looked at him, and wrote a prescription. Please fill it for him." There was another reply, and Barber hung up the phone, turning to Randall. "John, your friend Eddie Freeman is going to take you home, all right?" The engineer nodded wearily, and whispered, "All right." A few minutes later, Freeman arrived at the office, entered, and went straight to John. As Eddie asked if he were all right, Randall suddenly gulped, jacknifed his body out of the chair, and made a beeline for the small bathroom, yanking the door shut behind him. Freeman blinked, and smiled ruefully at Barber. "Guess not," he said. The sounds of retching drifted through the walls, and both men winced slightly, sympathetic feelings going out to the engineer. Silence descended for a moment, then John came back out into the office. He smiled apologetically at Freeman, and whispered, "Sorry about that." Eddie brushed it aside, and said, "Man, we need to get you back to your house so you can rest." He took Randall by the arm, and turned to Barber. "Thanks for letting me know," he said. "I'll get him back to his place." The NASA technician smiled. "Take care of him, Eddie. I'll see you two later." Freeman said, "I may not be back today; the Director's still too suspicious of me to let me do any actual work, so I might just look after Randall for a while." Barber nodded and said, "That will be fine, just make sure he gets home, will you?" "You got it," affirmed Freeman. The chief engineer of the Challenger steadied Randall as they left the office, went down the stairs, and exited the building. As they made their way to the parking lot, John whispered, "Chief, something's wrong. I was fine before lunch. There was a new cook in the cafeteria today, and he may have slipped me something." Freeman didn't answer, just nodded that he had heard Randall, then, as they arrived at a vehicle, tapped his ear bud, and spoke softly. "Got a situation," he reported tersely. "Randall's suddenly sick, vomiting. Suspects poisoning. En route with him to safe house." John again doubled over in pain, and leaned heavily against the vehicle for support, uttering a loud moan. Freeman knelt beside him, swearing softly under his breath. "Talk to me, John. What's wrong?" He grabbed his friend as Randall suddenly swayed sideways. John whispered loudly, "I-I feel like my stomach's being ripped out!" Freeman nodded, helped move Randall away from the door of the vehicle, and said, "To hell with this. Get in." He held the door open, and John climbed in, his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. As Freeman closed the door, Randall slumped against it, moaning softly. Eddie walked around, and climbed in the driver's side, tapping his ear bud. "In the car now," he said. "Is site-to-site transport available?" He started the vehicle, and drove out of the parking lot, pulling over to the side of the road once they were out of sight of the complex. John suddenly shivered, and whispered, "Eddie, the air conditioner's too cold." As Freeman began to reach for the knob to turn down the intensity of the refrigerated air, a familiar chiming sound came to their ears, and seconds later, they materialized in the living room of the safe house. He immediately called out, "We're in here!" He helped John over to the couch, and assisted him to lay down. Dr. Gretchen Hanson, the chief medical officer of the Challenger, moved over to John's side, and began to scan him with her medical tricorder. Randall, by this time, was shivering noticeably, and his skin was turning pale. He heard the voices of Freeman and Marine Major Kimiko Johnson talking to each other, then the doctor finished her scan, and gave him a small smile. "Well," she said. "The good news, John, is that you're not dying. No toxins that would be life-threatening, but you've got some nasty stuff churning around in there." John smiled weakly at her. "Just some good ol' indigestion, huh?" Then a sharp pain ripped through his stomach, and he moaned loudly. Gretchen quickly loaded a hypospray, and pressed it to his neck. "I'm going to put you out so you can rest, John," she said. "I'll run a detailed scan while you're out, and we'll have you up and around in no time." Randall nodded, and, as the hypo took effect, closed his eyes, and dropped off into welcome oblivion. END LOG

AFTERMATH Randall-Granger Joint Log John arrived at the safe house after an afternoon that had sort of gone by in a blur. It had been an eventful day, to say the least. He never thought in his wildest dreams that, when he went to the complex this morning, the day would end with a member of the group they had been sent here to stop dead. He had unwittingly come across the guy purely by accident, random chance, whatever you wanted to call it. ‘And let’s be honest,’ he thought to himself as he sat on the front porch of the safe house. ‘If you hadn’t had someone watching you, most likely you’d be dead, or at the least, suffered a stun blast.’ He was anticipating having to go through sort of a debriefing later this evening. He just didn’t know who would be performing it. He owed his life to the marines who had been watching over him, and he knew it. He was hoping it would be Marine Captain Cassidy Granger doing the debriefing, or whatever it turned out to be. He felt pretty comfortable around the Marines, but he had no doubt Granger would grill him pretty good on what had happened, and he was ready for it. He wasn’t going to apologize for what he had done; he had needed to get out of the building for a while, and what had transpired after that was just one of those things. Granger appeared next to him on the porch about 6pm, bottle of beer in hand, looking like she’d been through the wringer already. It could be they’d finished up their incident debrief because she’d been locked in a room with the team and senior management for a few hours. She paused at the top step, gave a long sigh and took a swig of beer. Then she spoke to him without even looking in his direction. “Got a minute, Lieutenant,” she said, obviously not a question. Then she took another swig. “Sure.” She stared across the bay a while before turning slowly and taking a seat beside him. “You ever heard the phrase going outside the wire, sir?” She still wasn’t looking at him. Taking his silence as a negative, she continued, “Going outside the wire is a phrase that goes way back, hundreds of years. Before we had sensor nets and a defense grids for protection, we’d put up large rolls of razor wire around camps, posts, bases, and what have you. Now, in theory, inside the wire you’re protected. When you went ‘outside the wire’ you were literally outside the base and figuratively outside whatever protection the main base could give you. You were on your own.” She paused again, this time studying the beer bottle. “You were outside the wire today, sir,” she said with forced calm. “It could have just as easily be you in that body bag ship-side.” All during the time she had been talking, John had instinctively not been looking at her. His earlier suspicion was correct; Granger was upset with him. And, probably, rightfully so. But, he was determined to make her understand why he had done what he had done. “Captain,” he said, deliberately using her rank instead of her name so she would (hopefully) see he was serious as well. “I’m not going to apologize for anything I’ve done today,” he said calmly. “You’re upset with me, and you have a right to be so. But, I needed to get away from the building, yes, even the mission, for a little bit. I needed to clear my head. Communing with nature has always worked for me, until today.” He paused to take a sip of Pepsi-Cola he was drinking. “I’ve had a fight with a Klingon, ma’am, and survived it. The information is available in my personal logs. That’s not to say I consider myself invincible or anything, but, after you’ve gone toe to toe with a Klingon, a human just isn’t that intimidating for you. Granted, he could have vaporized me today, but, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t a bit scared. Some might call that false bravado. Call it what you want. I don’t care. “All I know is, I was just trying to clear my head, and this happened. It could have happened to any one of us. I won’t apologize for it, but, in deference to you and your comrades-in-arms, I promise not to do it again. I’m done talking.” With that, he took another sip of his drink, and waited for Granger’s response, still looking straight ahead. Cass nodded, falling silent for a few minutes. “You know, sir,” she said finally, “we all need to get away once in a while. Only thing, as head of mission security I’m going to require you to inform someone of your intentions. You can go pretty much wherever you’d like to on this entire planet if you let me know. I’ll inform Delta, Gunny will inform the rest, and we have one big hellofa ship in orbit that can place a grid around you anywhere, anytime. Thing is, we need to know. “After action review is in ten,” she said with a tone of finality as she stood and tossed her bottle in the trash bin. “I thank you for your time, sir. See you there.” John nodded. “Understood, Captain. Thank you for hearing me out, and thanks to you and your team for watching over me. See you in ten.” He watched Granger go into the safe house, and leaned back in his chair, letting out a big sigh. It had gone about like he’d expected. But, if there was more to come, he was ready. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 13003.29 08 July 1969 O.R.) The lunch hour arrived at the main assembly room of the VAB (Vertical Assembly Building) at the Kennedy Space Center. John left the computer panel that he had been 'training' with Andrews on, and made his way to the cafeteria to grab some lunch. He had picked up on the knack of using the currency of the time period, money, and could now pay for his lunch right down to the penny, or at least that was the word used to describe the copper piece that was used along with the silver pieces, or coins, as they were referred to, that helped make up part of the currency. He took his lunch to a nearby empty table, and sat down to eat, his eyes constantly roving around the room. The other technicians, he had learned (mainly from involuntary eavesdropping), thought him somewhat of a 'loner', as he believed the word was, and didn't think it strange that he usually ate his meal by himself. That was all right with John; it made the mission he was on simpler. There was a greatly diminished chance he would let something slip, or say the wrong word or phrase, if he were left alone. He finished his meal, took his tray to the wastebasket, disposed of it, and decided he needed to get outside the building for a little while. The picnic area that the away team had held their briefing at the other day came into his head, and he decided that was as good a place as any. He exited the building, and made his way toward the path that would take him to the area. He arrived at the area a few minutes later, and made his way to a table that, when he seated himself, would have him facing the water. He sat down, and focused his attention on the water; a few seconds later, he felt himself begin to relax. That feeling was somewhat short-lived a few moments later, however; he suddenly had a strong feeling he was being watched, and whirled around on the bench seat of the table, eyes scanning the area. He could not shake the feeling; someone was watching him. John reached up casually and pretended to be scratching his ear; he tapped on the auditory device concealed in his ear canal. "To whoever this goes to, I think I'm being watched," he reported in a barely audible voice. "I'm in the picnic area outside the complex." Barely a second later, the voice of Starfleet Marine Captain Cassidy Granger sounded in his ear. "Daniels is on overwatch, sir," she reported, referring to one of the Starfleet Marines assigned to them on the mission, posing as NASA security guards. Granger continued, "Keeping an eye out since you're alone. You'll not be able to see him, and if you do, let me know, because his rear will be mine." John smiled briefly at that last, and responded, "Roger that. I will casually begin a grid search of my own. Randall out." He sat there a second or two, then got up from the bench, and began strolling around the area, his eyes scanning everywhere, but his manner was nonchalant. He was trying to make it appear that he was simply walking around the area killing time until it was time to return to work. As he neared the grove of trees on the west side of the picnic area, he suddenly heard a twig snap among the trees in front of him, and froze on the spot, his eyes rapidly scanning the area. A few seconds later, Granger's voice sounded in his ear. "Report." John said, "I'm at the west side of the picnic area. Heard a twig snap. Searching the area, eyes only." Granger replied, "Stay put, under cover if possible. Daniels has eyes on." John relaxed a little at that, knowing the Marine was with him, and was keeping an eye on him. He said, "Acknowledged. Moving casually to cover. Randall out." He saw there was a tree about five yards in front of him, and strolled nonchalantly to it. He was glad he had his cover weapon with him; a Colt .45 revolver in a shoulder holster underneath his shirt. The weight of the weapon reassured him, knowing he wasn't totally defenseless, and didn't have a phaser with him. A few moments later, Granger's voice sounded in his ear. "No clearance for scorpio.* Are you armed?" John replied, "Affirmative." "Defend yourself," said the Marine captain. "Say the first time you see a weapon, and report type." "Acknowledged," Randall said. He moved casually away from the tree, walking deeper into the grove. His eyes scanned the area constantly. As he neared another tree, Granger's voice sounded again. "Do not approach. Repeat. Do not approach. Let him come to you." "Acknowledged," John said as he reached the tree, and opened his shirt, taking his revolver out of the holster. He held it in a two-handed grip as he slid slowly around the tree. Suddenly, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and whipped his head to the right. A man was standing there, just straightening from apparently having been bent over looking in some bushes in front of him for something. The man suddenly stiffened, apparently hearing something, and took out a weapon from his back, apparently having stuffed it into his beltline. The man turned slightly and stiffened again as he saw John, and began to bring his weapon up to bear on the Starfleet engineer. Before the man did anything, however, he suddenly grimaced as there was a barely audible thud, and he fell face down to the ground. As the man fell, the voice of Daniels, the Marine guard, sounded in John's ear. "Clear." Randall sighed in relief. "Acknowledged," he said, and, holding his weapon out in front of him, walked rapidly to the man on the ground, who was just rolling over, and then froze at the sight of the revolver pointing at him. As John arrived, he recognized the man as one of the technicians working at the VAB. Randall said, "Okay, my man, any funny moves, and I'll make it permanent." The man's eyes widened as he recognized John as well, and knew the game was up. He quickly ground his teeth together, and a false tooth inbedded in his mouth broke open. John's eyes widened as the man suddenly began foaming at the mouth, his body convulsed a few times, then went limp. A strong almond smell arose, and Randall recognized it immediately; the man had taken cyanide. The voice of Challenger chief engineer Eddie Freeman sounded in John's ear. "Randall, did he just--oh, hell, he just killed himself, didn't he?" "Affirmative," said John roughly. "Daniels, my location, stat." Freeman said, "I think I recognize this guy. Randall, didn't you see him around the VAB?" "That's affirmative, Eddie," John responded, looking down at the body, which was now a corpse. He thought to himself, "Well, there's one fewer of them now. Too bad he killed himself; he could have provided some answers.' He also knew Freeman had probably been watching from a window in the office where he was under guard, and smiled slightly to himself; the chief engineer had been helping keep an eye on him. John replaced the revolver in the holster, re-buttoned his shirt, and glanced at his chronometer; watch, he reminded himself. The whole episode had lasted less than 30 minutes. It still wasn't time to return to work yet. He gazed down at the body, then walked back to the picnic area. He knew Daniels and the other Marines would take over at this point. 'At least something good came out of this,' he thought. 'My head's clear, I feel better, and one of their team is down.' He began walking back toward the complex. He was still alive, and, at the moment, that was all that mattered. END LOG *Scorpio = The target is in the gunner's sights, and he is the designated shooter.

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 13003.24 08 July 1969 O.R.) John arrived at the VAB (Vehicle Assembly Building) on what promised to be another sticky day in Florida; the temperature was already 81 degrees Fahrenheit, and the sky was blue as far as the eye could see. He arrived by taxicab, paid off the driver, and went inside to some blessedly cool air-conditioning relief. He went to the room which housed the time cards, punched in, and made his way out to the main assembly room of the VAB. He was walking toward the table where he and a man named Andrews (John couldn't remember the guy's first name) had been going over schematics of the engines. As he walked toward the table, there came a hail from above him. "Hey, John Randall!" came the voice of his immediate supervisor, Chris Barber. "You got a minute?" John turned and looked upward; standing on the catwalk in front of his office was Barber, who was looking down at him. Randall shouted back, "Sure, on my way!" As John began walking toward the stairs which led up to the catwalk, Barber turned and went into his office. Randall made his way up the stairs, and walked the short distance to Barber's office. He went in, and looked at the NASA technician. "What's up?" he asked. Barber gestured to one of the overstuffed client's chairs placed in front of his desk. "Sit down, Mr. Randall," he said. "Got a couple of questions for you." John walked over and sat down in one of the chairs, wondering what this was about. Barber put down some documents he had been reading, and looked at John. "Mr. Randall, how well do you know Mr. Freeman?" he asked the Challenger engineer. John thought, 'Oh boy, here we go,' and replied, "Uh, not that well, sir; we just happened to arrive at the same time." Barber nodded and said, "I see. What do you think of the accusation made against him?" John thought a moment as his mind drifted back to the events of yesterday afternoon. A test had been run on one of the Saturn V rocket engines, and the engine had caught on fire. After it had been extinguished, Challenger chief engineer Eddie Freeman, who, with Randall, was posing as a NASA technician, had investigated the scene of the blaze. Talking to each other secretly over their ocular and auditory devices, Freeman was able to discover what he thought was the cause of the fire; a line had been deliberately left unhooked that helped feed fuel to the engine. As Freeman informed Randall as to what he had seen, the engineer made his way back down from the scaffold he had ascended. When he got back to ground level, Freeman was promptly accused loudly by the director of the VAB, Sam Phillips, of sabotaging the engine. Freeman was ordered placed under guard by the irate director. Randall had watched all this from the table where he and Andrews had been going over the schematics of the engines. As Phillips continued to berate Freeman loudly, John began forming a suspicion in his own mind of the man yelling at his boss, and his friend. He thought the director was overreacting, and thought to himself, 'This could be one of the terrorist gang we're looking for.' He also had developed a strong dislike for the man calling himself Sam Phillips; and swore to himself to keep an eye on the so-called director himself for the remainder of the mission. Turning his attention back to Barber's question, John said, "About him being the saboteur?" Barber nodded. "That's right." "I can't say I buy that, sir," said Randall cautiously. "The fire happened before he went up on the scaffold, as I recall." Barber said, "But you didn't see him before the fire started?" John said, "Actually, I did, sir. He was on ground level not far from where Andrews and I were going over schematics of the engines." Barber steepled his fingers in front of him, and looked thoughtful. After a few seconds went by, he said, "I see. Were you around him all morning?" John said, "Not all morning, sir, but most of it." Barber nodded, then unsteepled his fingers, and leaned forward. His gaze sharpened as he looked at the Challenger engineer. "Do you think he could have done it?" he asked with probing eyes. John sat up straight in the overstuffed chair, and met Barber's gaze squarely. "I don't know, sir," he said. "Like I said, I don't know him, so I really couldn't say. If you ask me, though, that director guy was a bit harsh on him on real short notice." Barber grinned, and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, you noticed that, did you?" he asked with a smile. John glanced down for a second, and when he looked back up at the NASA technician, his eyes had gone cold, and there was an angry tone in his voice when he replied, "Yes, sir, I did." Barber caught the change instantly. "Is something wrong, John?" he asked. Randall abruptly stood. "I prefer to keep my thoughts to myself for now, sir," he said. "Was there anything else?" "No. that's all for now," said Barber. "Go back to work." John nodded, turned, and left the office. He did not notice Barber look back up at his retreating back as he left. The NASA technician thought to himself, 'I think there's more to this than he's telling, but I'll respect his privacy for now.' John returned to the ground level of the room, and made his way over to the drafting table, where Andrews was waiting for him. The NASA technician smiled at John as he arrived. "Hey, John," he greeted the Challenger engineer, then noticed the grim set of Randall's face. "Hey, man, you okay?" John nodded, and managed a small smile for him. "Yeah, I'm okay," he replied. "What's on for today?" "Well, thought we might start you on some computer work today," said Andrews. "You up for it?" Randall nodded. "Yeah, sure. There's one thing I need to do first, okay?" Andrews smiled and said, "Whenever you're ready, my man." "Thanks," smiled Randall. "Be back in a bit." He left the table and headed for the stairs that led to the catwalk. He ascended, and walked along the catwalk until he came to the hallway entrance. He entered, and made his way down the hallway to the office where Eddie Freeman had been placed under guard. It wasn't hard to find; the guard standing in the open doorway made it obvious where Freeman was being held. As John approached the guard standing in the doorway, he heard Freeman exclaim, "Two points!", and suppressed a smile. He walked up to the guard, noticing that Freeman had turned and was looking at him. John turned his eyes to the guard. "You got any objections to me talking to him?" He pointed at Eddie as he said this. The guard narrowed his eyes for a second, then shrugged. "I'll let you talk to him, but I'll be right outside the door. Don't try anything stupid." He started to push past John, but the engineer caught the guard by the arm, and stared at him with ice-blue eyes. Randall growled, "I never do anything stupid, mister." He released the guard's arm, and stepped into the office, giving Freeman a quick smile. Freeman kept his eyes on the guard for a few seconds as the guard took his position in the hallway, then looked at John. "What's up?" John exhaled mightily, trying to relieve some tension, and said, "You all right?" Freeman gave a smirk, and said, "Oh, I'm great." Then, he leaned forward, and lowered his voice. "Figured somethin' out, see," he said. "You know how Phillips laid it on so thick when he was accusin' me?" Randall snorted, and lowered his voice to match. "Yeah, couldn't miss it." "If he's the saboteur, then he shot himself in the foot big time," said Freeman. "Because now, I'm under guard from the time I enter this building until I leave. If anything goes wrong, I'll have an iron-clad alibi. As long as he's got me under guard, he can't make another move without exonerating his patsy," grinning as he finished. John nodded thoughtfully, and smiled back. "Yeah, that's true, he's kinda boxed himself into a corner doing that. Wonder if the pressure is getting to him? His boss, or friends, might be prodding him a little, and he made a big mistake." "Maybe they're just not very good at this," replied the chief engineer. "But whatever his reasoning is, I've got him over a barrel just by remaining within line of sight of as many people as possible." John nodded. "Yeah, they don't strike me as being a well-oiled team either, now that you mention it. It makes me wonder what the ultimate motive behind all this is." His boss, and friend, smiled. "We'll probably find out, sooner or later." John nodded grimly. "That's what I'm afraid of. Well, I just wanted to touch base with you." He looked at Freeman significantly, who nodded, then Randall raised his voice. "I'll see you later, man; take it easy, all right?" Freeman nodded, and raised his voice as well, which prompted the guard to re-enter the office. "You too, man; take care." John smiled, lifted a hand, and left the office, giving the guard a glare as he left. He made his way back down the hallway to the entrance to the catwalk. He walked along the catwalk to the stairs, made his way down them, and walked back over to the drafting table where Andrews was waiting on him. "Okay, man, I'm ready," he said as he approached the table. The NASA technician grinned at him, finished a Pepsi-Cola he was drinking, tossed the can into a nearby wastebasket, and said, "All right, let's go up to the computer platform." Randall nodded, and the two men walked over to the stairs leading up to the balcony that housed the computer complex. They walked over to the main panel, and John had to fight down shock at how archaic the panel was; he had to keep reminding himself that this was the latest in technology for these people. Andrews began explaining the various readouts and gauges to him, and John just nodded, trying to give the impression that this was new to him. In reality, he was secretly glad that Andrews was there; some of the gauges were totally alien to him; but when Andrews gave the explanation as to their function, John knew what they were for. He gave the panel his full attention, trying to memorize quickly what each readout and gauge was for. He smiled briefly to himself as he remembered his covert mission; he had figured out the language being used on the engineering panel he and 'Dr. Jones' had found. This experience was a lot like that. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 13003.09 06 July 1969) John awoke in his bed at 7:15 a.m. on Sunday morning, July 6. It was an off day for NASA workers. He climbed out of bed, and exited his bedroom. He went down the hall to the bathroom, which was empty, stripped off his pajamas, and took a shower. He toweled himself dry, redressed himself in his pajamas, and went back to his room to change into fresh civvie clothes. He then exited the room, and went down the hall to the kitchen, where he made himself a bowl of cereal, and a glass of orange juice. He decided to go eat on the front porch as some of the others were now awake, and were having breakfast at the dining table. John went back down the hall, and stepped out onto the front porch. It was going to be another hot day, but it wasn't too bad yet. There was a slight breeze blowing, and it definitely helped cool you some. Fortunately, the front porch did not get that much of the early morning sun, and you coud actually sit out on the porch without drenching yourself in sweat. He sat down in a chair with a table next to it. He placed his glass of orange juice on the table, and proceeded to eat his cereal. He then sat back in the chair, and sipped his orange juice, watching some cars drive along the street, and the birds and insects creating their morning noise. John was debating on what to do with himself on this Sunday. He knew he could actually take his mind off everything for one day, and his brain definitely needed the rest. He decided he might actually take a walk around the neighborhood, and just kind of, decompress himself, for want of a better term. He was sort of a loner at heart anyway, and he realized he hadn't had time to call his own for a while. Today was the day for that. John finished his orange juice, and took his glass and cereal bowl back to the kitchen. He quickly washed each one, and set them in the drainer next to the sink to dry. He then left the kitchen, and went back out the front door. He walked down to the sidewalk, turned left, and began his trek. He ambled along the sidewalk, taking in the scenery, and was not in any hurry; he had the whole day as far as he was concerned. The street he was walking along led him to the main part of the little town, as it turned out. This reminded him of his boyhood hometown north of here in Tennessee, where he had been born. He walked along the sidewalk, occasionally glancing into some shop windows. Most of the stores were closed, it being Sunday. There wasn't much traffic at all, just the occasional automobile passing by. He circumnavigated the little 'square', as he had heard other people call it, and returned to the sidewalk that had brought him here, and would lead back to the safe house. He arrived back at the safe house, and walked across the lawn to the front porch. It was definitely starting to heat up, and he thought he would see if the bathroom was available for another shower. He checked, and it was, so he went to his room, dug out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts he had packed, and went down the hall to the bathroom. He took a cool shower, dressed himself in the t-shirt and shorts, and felt better. He decided he would check to see if there was a 'washing machine', as they called them in this era. He made his way to the utility room, and discovered there was one. He went back to his room, collected his 'laundry', the term that was used in this age for soiled clothing, and went back to the utility room. He studied the directions that he found on top of the machine, and looked around for the detergent. He found it, followed the directions, and soon had his clothes spinning in the machine. John had read that, in this era, women usually did the work that he was doing, but, the women he was with were not form this era; he wasn't about to ask any of them to do what he was doing for him. He knew what the responses would be, and didn't care anything about putting himself through that. There was stress enough on this mission already, as far as he was concerned, and he wasn't about to add any to it. A few minutes later, the machine stopped, and he got the slightly wet clothes out. He looked around, and spotted a basket sitting in a nearby corner. He put his clothes in it, and took the basket to his room. John took the clothes out, and spread over the bed, and the back of the chair that was in the room. He was pretty sure that, as hot as it was getting, it wouldn't take the clothes long to dry out. He then retrieved his packet containing his info on the mission, and took the documents out to the chair on the front porch. He sat down, and began going over the information again. On a mission like this, or rather what this one was turning out to be, he thought to himself, you had better be sure about everything. A little refresher would definitely not hurt. A little while later, he thought he heard a female voice say something; he looked up, but there was no one there; he then heard voices coming from inside the house, and decided that was what he had overheard. He refocused his attention on the information he was re-reading. A few minutes later, his stomach growled, and it surprised him. He replaced the documents into his folder, and took them back to his room. On the way, just before he started down the hall, he glanced at the clock hanging on the wall of the living area; he was surprised to see it was 1 in the afternoon. 'No wonder my stomach's growling,' he thought, and continued on to his room. John exited his room, and went down the hall to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door, and decided he would make himself a ham-and-cheese sandwich. There was bread in a nearby wooden box; he got two slices, found some mayonaise, and made his sandwich. He poured himself a glass of milk, and, seeing the dining table empty, took his food there, and sat down to eat. He finished his meal a few minutes later, washed his saucer out in the sink, and put it in the drainer. He wandered out to the living area, or 'living room,' it was called in this era, and sat down in a chair against the wall. Someone had left the, what did they call them, oh yes, 'television,' he recalled, on, and the image being shown was that of a sporting event. He watched for a few moments until it hit him what this had been called. 'Baseball,' he remembered; and watched with interest, figuring out on his own the mechanics and intracasies of the game. There was a huge crowd of people gathered in the 'stadium,' he remembered they were called, and also remembered that this sport had been very popular for a number of years in the 20th and 21st centuries until it ceased to be played around 2045, he thought was the final year. There were voices coming from the television as well, and he remembered they had been called 'commentators,'; they were supposed to know what was going on, and also offer their opinions on the game as well. He watched for a time, then noticed he was getting drowsy, and he realized, with something of a mild shock, he was actually bored. 'Man, I haven't been this way in a long time,' he thought, and smiled to himself. This was about as relaxed as you could get, in his opinion. John glanced at the clock on the wall again, and it was close to 6 p.m. He noticed the air felt slightly cooler to him, and decided to go back out on the front porch, and just let the rest of the day go by. So, he suited action to thought, and sat relaxing on the porch. Some of the other members of the team who had also been away from the house were returning, and nodded or said hello to him as they went inside. He returned the greetings, and just sat watching the scenery and surroundings; knowing tomorrow he had to return to the mission, and all the stress that came with it. He devoutly hoped that everything would turn out well; of course, if it didn't, they would not return to the same era they had left. He thought of his mother and his family again, and vowed he would return to them. It was about the only thing keeping him going on this mission. Still, he couldn't shake a feeling of dread; something bad was going to happen before this mission ended; and that thought strengthened his resolve to do everything in his power to not let it happen. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 13003.06 05 July 1969) The lunch break was almost over when John returned to the work area of the VAB (Vertical Assembly Building). Suddenly he received a message in the ear bud he was wearing (and had almost forgotten about) to report to a nearby picnic area for a meeting. 'What is this about?' he wondered, looked around for a quick second, but no one was paying any attention to him, so he casually went to the side door of the assembly area, and let himself out. There was a path that led through some trees and ankle-deep weeds which he had learned led to the park. He went over to a vending machine that was in close proximity to the door, bought himself a Pepsi-Cola (in a can), and began walking down the path to the picnic area. He arrived a few minutes later, and noticed some of his shipmates had already arrived, and were taking things out of a genuine picnic basket, laying them on the table. John shook his head in slight amazement, and went over to an adjoining table that was more or less under some trees next to the area. He sat down on the shady side of the table, and took in the scene. After a few moments, he was joined at the table by ship surgeon Gretchen Hanson, who seemed as bemused at the situation as he was. She sat across from him with her back turned to him. After a moment or two, Hanson turned and whispered to him, "So, what do you think of all this?" John looked at her for a few seconds, then whispered back, "How in the world these people made it out of the 20th century is beyond me, Doctor." Commander Zach Murphy then cleared his throat, and said, "Looks like everyone's here. All right. Hope you all managed to get settled into your new roles. We should begin with an initial status update. Would anyone like to go first?" As Murphy was talking, Hanson whispered to John, "Actually, I'm more concerned about US making it out. I mean, look at us; does this little group stand out like a sore thumb, or what?" Randall considered a moment, then whispered, "Hm, now that you mention it....." He never got the chance to finish what he was saying; apparently Commander Erica Rinax had overheard the doctor, and looked at her. "Is this a major security concern you were talking about, Doctor?" she asked a little coldly. Everyone gave Gretchen their full attention, and it was clear the doctor was not pleased that her whisper had been overheard. "So much for a small private aside," she said, and shrugged. "So...yes, Commander, I am concerned." "Ok, Doctor, give it then," snapped the first officer. "We have a short amount of time, and all urgent concerns must take precedence over general updates." Hanson took a breath, and said, "Well, our number one concern is going unnoticed by these people. If I were on the outside, seeing this group all huddled together, with armed guards, I'd certainly be suspicious of something." "Concern noted, Hanson," said Rinax coldly. "Anything else?" Gretchen sat back against the table, and said, "I guess not, then." John thought to himself, 'Apparently I'm not the only one who has caught on that Rinax is becoming a cold fish.' Murphy quickly said, "Thank you for your concern, Doctor. Ok, go ahead, Erica." Rinax said, "Don't hold back; we have a short amount of time. Any other urgents before we get to the standard updates?" Starfleet Marine Corps Captain Cassidy Granger stood. "Commander Murphy, I'm going to echo the doctor's concern, sir. All due respect, it might not be a good idea for group updates. We are a disparate group, and the standard coms unless absolutely necessary might be the best approach, sir." Murphy nodded and said, "So noted. We'll conduct future updates at our safe house, then." Major Kimiko Johnson chimed in. "I'm going to have to agree." Granger said, "Aye, Commander," and seated herself. Murphy said, "Go ahead, Commander." Rinax looked at him coldly, then said, "Fine; I'll continue." As she gave her report, John sipped his drink. 'This is turning out to be a colossal waste of time,' he thought. Rinax finished her report and said, "Who's next?" John thought, 'I'm gonna get this over with.' He stood up quickly, and said, "My report is short and sweet. Nothing out of the ordinary; though I'm not really sure what the 'ordinary' is, at this point." He sat down as Rinax said, "Thanks; next?" John gave her a cold nod, and sipped his drink. As other reports were given, John sat sipping his drink, and staring out at the small pond by the park. He wondered if this same pond was still next to the now Cape Canaveral Space Museum, at it was known in the 23rd century. If they got through this mission, the next time he visited Earth, he might have to fly by this place, and see for himself. The meeting broke up a few minutes later as Rinax dismissed everyone, and John tossed his can into a wastebasket next to his table. As he began to walk back to the VAB, he brushed by Hanson, whispering to her, "This was a waste of time." He walked on, not noticing the doctor's reaction. He had almost gotten to the beginning of the path when he heard the doctor's voice behind him. "John, want to walk a bit?" He turned, and smiled at her. "Sure, catch on up, Doctor." Gretchen came up beside him, and said, "Lots of new people, John. I need some wisdom from an old face." Randall smiled down at her, and said, " 'Old' face, huh? Ok, shoot." She made a wry face at him, then said, "Well, I'm certainly not a security expert, but I can't see how a bunch of us gathering like a flock of geese isn't going to attract attention; the kind our supposed adversaries wouldn't notice." John nodded. "I couldn't agree more, Gretchen," he replied. "I thought that was why we had a house, to hold meetings like this. Anyway, we've only been at this for just over a half a day. Way too soon for anything significant, in my book." "But not too soon to mess things up if we're not careful," said the slightly agitated doctor. "It took me most of the morning just to get into position at the medical facility. Women's lib is just taking hold this decade, and for me to present myself as a doctor is a tough sell. Then to have to say 'well, gotta go to lunch' didn't sit well, either." Randall nodded and said, "I bet it didn't. Are you okay besides that?" To his surprise, Hanson brightened noticably. "Yeah. I couldn't have had an easier cover. I can actually carry on a conversation without worrying about giving myself away." John grinned at her suddenly light air. "It is nice to at least be in your own field, isn't it?" The doctor suddenly stepped close to him, and took him by his upper arm. "How are you with all the new security people?" she asked a little urgently. John blinked at the sudden change in topic, then guardedly said, "I'm okay with it, Gretchen. I've met most of them, and they're top notch Marines, and seem to be pretty good people. Why do you ask? Is something wrong?" The doctor said, "I don't doubt their abilities, John. Perhaps that's what bothers me. I feel like we're a bit firepower heavy on this mission." Randall regarded her for a moment, then said, "Well, the way I look at it, we're on terra igcognito. I'd rather be a bit heavy than to discover the hard way we're not; you know?" Gretchen nodded resignedly. "Perhaps it's just my 'do no harm' doctor's thing," she smiled at him. "I'm always up for more stealth and finesse rather than force. I just have a bad feeling that someone is planning on needing that force." John nodded. "This was a very violent time period, Doctor. It's almost 100 years before World War III; the one where humanity finally came to its senses." Hanson regarded him a moment, then said, "But no one seems to be thinking as our opponents would. I mean, if they're from the future, they're probably not going to make an open assault. It's going to be subtle, with some stealth and finesse." John nodded and said, "That's why we have to be extra alert on this mission. If they use something we recognize, to others from this time period, it will seem like pure witchcraft." The doctor frowned at that statement. "If they can time travel, I bet they're better at it than we are," she said. "They would have the same timeline info we do; if not more detailed." John nodded, likewise frowning. "That's one of the worries on my mind," he admitted. "We know nothing about these...terrorists, for want of a better term." Gretchen said, "Maybe that's something that should be brought up at the next meeting back at the house." She glanced at a wrist watch she was wearing. "Rats," she said. "I need to be going. Thanks for the talk, John." Randall smiled and said, "Me too, Gretchen. Any time. Have a good rest of the day." He lifted a hand to her, and started down the path toward the VAB. He ruminated over the conversation he had had with the doctor. She appeared to share a lot of the worries and concerns he had about this mission. 'I guess I'm not the only one having bad feelings about this,' he thought. This kind of company was not what he really wanted (or needed) at this time. He wasn't the only one who was hoping things would improve. This mission was off to a shaky start, and the little meeting they had just had, in his opinion, had only made matters worse. 'We keep on like this, someone's gonna get suspicious,' he thought. A scowl came over his face as a very unpleasant thought entered his mind. 'And if somebody screws this mission up, and I don't get to see my mother again, I'm gonna be somebody's worst nightmare come true,' he vowed. That thought affected his mood the rest of the workday. The other technicians thought he had received some bad news, and gave him a wide berth. He got off work at 6:30 that evening, and was a little glad it was Saturday night. He called a cab to take him to the safe house. He arrived, went straight to his room, changed into civvie clothes, went to the kitchen to get a bite to eat, and went back to his room. He turned on the radio, tuned in a local rock 'n' roll station, and ate. After eating, he stretched out on the bed, listening to the '60s music play. After a while, he noticed he was really tired, changed into his pajamas, turned off the radio, crawled into his bed, and went to sleep. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 13002.27 05 July 1969) John sat in the back of the Ford Econoline van being driven by Starfleet Marine Hunter Matheson as they approached the guard station at the main parking lot of the Kennedy Space Center. It was a typical Florida morning; partly cloudy skies and sunshine everywhere. It was also going to be a hot one; even at this early morning hour, the humidity was present, you could feel it. The van pulled up at the guard shack, and everyone in the van held their ID badges up to the windows of the van for the guard to see. They were waved through, and Matheson made for a parking space at the side of the main building. They arrived, and everyone disembarked, heading for their respective departments and/or job assignments. John and Challenger chief engineer Eddie Freeman began walking toward the VAB (Vehicle Assembly Building) complex. John said, "Guess we head for the VAB, huh?" Freeman nodded. "Guess so. Hard to miss it, too," staring at the huge building the two men were walking toward. Randall smiled. "Yeah, not exactly a small building." Freeman said, "Well, let's go to work, yeah?" John grinned, and said, "Roger that, sir." The two men walked as casually as they could toward the building. As they approached the front door of the building a few moments later, John said, "So did you see in the packet who we're supposed to report to?" Freeman stopped and said, "Hold on, let me check." The chief engineer rummaged through his duffel bag for a moment, and took out his manila envelope containing his information. He glanced through it briefly, and said, "Nope. We're just to report to the VAB. If we need to talk to someone, they'll send us there, but it looks pretty busy; we'll probably be waved right in." He replaced the packet in his duffel bag, and looked up to see John holding the door open. Randall said, "All right. After you, sir." As they stepped through the door into an empty, wide hallway, Freeman said, "Probably should drop the 'sir, lieutenant' stuff while we're pretending to be civvies. In fact, drop the 'sir' permanently if you want; makes my skin crawl." As they walked down the hallway, John smiled, gave a small, quiet laugh, and said, "All right, was just teasing you some, but I will stop." He looked around as the hallway opened into a wide room, spotted a station ahead, and said, "There's the guard station, I believe." He began walking toward it, and Freeman fell in step beside him, saying, "Yep." The two men arrived at the station, and both presented their badges as John handed his information papers to a half-awake guard. The guard studied the documents for a few moments after verifying the men's IDs. Both men were hoping that the documents were historically genuine enough. The guard looked up, and said, "Ok, John Randall." He looked back down to his clipboard, then looked up again. "You're to report to Chris Barber. His office is down that way to the left. You can't miss it." He gestured to another hallway that branched off to the left of the station, and John nodded, moving that way. He heard Freeman get cleared behind him, and continued down the hallway until he arrived at a door with the nameplate "Chris Barber" etched into it. Freeman arrived and stood beside him as Randall knocked. A short, balding man with glasses opened the door, took in the two men standing there, and said, "Yes?" Freeman glanced at Randall, and said, "Chris Barber?" The NASA technician narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, and replied, "That's right. And you are?" John said, "Mr. Barber, I'm John Randall, and this is Ed Freeman. I believe we're the new guys on the block, so to speak." Barber nodded and said, "Ah, yes, our two new engineers. Come in, gentlemen." He left the door open, and went back to his desk in the relatively small office. Freeman held the door for Randall, who grinned at him, and the two men entered. The NASA technician waved them toward a couple of overstuffed chairs in front of his desk, and said, "Sit down, gentlemen, I believe you have some paperwork for me." The two men opened their duffel bags, and produced their manila folder envelopes, which they gave to Barber. Freeman said, "That should be it." Barber nodded his thanks, pulled out the documentation from both folders, and scanned the pages briefly. The NASA technician looked up after a few moments and said, "Well, I can see we have two very bright technicians here. Why don't you tell me a little about yourselves?" John looked at Freeman, and raised his eyebrows, silently suggesting that the chief engineer go first. Freeman gave a brief nod, catching Randall's unspoken request, and spoke. "Well, I'm Ed Freeman, though I prefer Eddie. I'm from San Francisco personally, and went to CalTech. Did a tour in the Army, though I avoided that mess over in Vietnam. This is my first job in the civilian sector. Not much else to say about me, really." Barber gave a brief smile, and said, "San Francisco. I always meant to travel out that way; haven't gotten a chance to, yet. Welcome aboard, Eddie; good to have you with us." He then turned to John. "And you?" Randall gathered his thoughts, remembering his 'personal' information in the packet, smiled briefly, and said, "My name is John Randall, and I'm from a small town in Tennessee. I graduated from UT-Knoxville about 3 years ago, and, because I blew my knee out playing football, was ineligible for the Army. I majored in engineering, and I guess that's what helped me get here." Barber said, "I see. Good to have you here, Mr. Randall, or do you prefer John?" Randall replied, "John is fine." Barber nodded. "Well, gentlemen, what do you say I give you the fifty-cent tour, and let you look over your new home, so to speak?" The two men nodded, and they all got up to exit the office. As Barber led them to the assembly area of the VAB, John thought, 'Well, here we go. Stay sharp, Randall. Dad did this for a living. Let's see if you inheirited any of his skills.' END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 13002.24 04 July 1969 O.E.) John awakened from yet another attempt to sleep. He looked around at the room his bed was in, thinking to himself how alien it appeared to him considering his cabin aboard the Challenger. He looked at the clock on the end table next to his bed. It was 4:43 A.M. on July 4, 1969 (O.E.).* He knew Commander Zach Murphy had scheduled a briefing for 0600 (he shook his head; he had to start thinking in terrestrial terms for time now; 6 A.M.), so he decided he might as well just stay up. He arose, and went to the bathroom just down the hall to take a shower. He finished, toweled himself dry, and went back to the bedroom. He changed into civilian clothes, and exited the bedroom, heading for the kitchen. He went to the refrigerator, looked inside, and decided on a glass of orange juice. 'What else would you drink in the morning in Florida,' he thought to himself wryly, poured himself a glass, and took it out to the front porch of the residence. He sat down in a chair, and took a long sip of the juice, enjoying the quiet, and the relatively cool air of the early Florida morning. He estimated the temperature at about 68 degrees Fahrenheit, and relaxed, for the first time since arriving here, he admitted to himself. He reflected a little on the mission that was to come. He felt the away team had a tall order on their hands. They were trying to stop a terrorist gang, for want of a better term, from altering history. The organization had sent operatives back to this time period to stop or sabotage the launch of the NASA Apollo 11 mission to the moon. John felt that, as usual, Starfleet Intelligence had been very little help to the team. They had no idea who the terrorist organization was. They had no idea who the operatives were. They didn't even know what to look for, or where. Maybe Murphy would provide more details in this morning's briefing. The team could use all the information they could get their hands on, as far as John was concerned. He became aware that the light outside had increased, and thought, with a sigh, it was probably getting close to the time set for the briefing. He arose from his chair, and went into the house, heading for the dining room, where the meeting would take place. He entered the room, where some of the away team were already seated, and went to stand along the back wall, next to the kitchen entrance. He stood there, leaning against the wall, sipping the rest of his orange juice. Commander Zach Murphy stood, and addressed the room. "Is everybody here?" he asked. Commander Erica Rinax, seated at the table, glanced around, and said, "I believe so." Murphy said, "I believe we're ready to start, though." John, upon hearing that, downed the rest of his juice, and went into the kitchen to set his glass in the sink. He came back out, saw Rinax glance at him, and resumed his position along the wall. Murphy said, "Good morning again, folks. We have some newspapers and magazines for your information on recent events. Most of it is centered around the upcoming Apollo 11 launch. We'll be taking the time to discuss our roles and responsibilities in this mission. We'll be starting in our covert mission tomorrow, so it's important we must be familiar with our roles. They will be divided in our individual departments. Mr. Morrison has secured us with jobs at NASA which will allow us to access the Kennedy Space Center with relative ease." Morrison said, "Please read over the packet each of you have regarding your jobs." Rinax reached behind her where she was sitting, and grabbed a cardboard box. She opened it, and looked up at Murphy. "Commander, did you want me to pull out the IDs now, or later?" Murphy gave a little smile, and said, "Uh, now would be great, thanks." Rinax nodded, and pulled a bundle of envelopes and plastic cards from the box. She began handing out the packets and cards. John waited patiently as the materials were passed around, then Starfleet Marine Captain Cassidy Granger held out a packet and card to him. He stepped forward, took the documents, gave her a quick smile, and stood back against the wall. He opened his packet, and glanced briefly at the ID card, putting it into his shirt pocket. He then began reading his information while Murphy resumed speaking. "Your info packets Morrison provided will explain your roles and respective duties, but basically your roles are based on your departments and Academy knowledge; for instance, the engineers will be serving as NASA technicians, and the Marine Corps will be serving as front-line security staff. One thing to note, however, as this is the mid-20th century, the role of women is quite limited in the workfield. As you are aware, most women were still at home as housewives, or working as secretaries, nurses, or other clerical staff. These roles, however, still will prove invaluable given the access to information of the senior NASA commanders you will be working for." John continued to read through his packet. It did help in some ways. He saw he would be relying on his Academy studies a lot here, when they had studied Earth's space history. In a lot of ways, the Apollo 11 mission was technically considered the starting point of Earth's venture into space. It had been the first manned mission to land on the moon, despite attempts by the other superpower nation of this time period, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, to achieve the same results. He thought to himself, 'Memory, don't fail me now.' He immediately started trying to recall the engine components and internal workings of the....Saturn V rockets, he thought were the vehicles of the time. He read on a little farther, and breathed a sigh of relief when he came to that designated rocket in his packet. 'Got one right anyway,' he mused. Granger then spoke up. "Commander, will all personnel have ocular and ear buds?" Murphy nodded. "Yes, we will. They will be well hidden, and should not be detectable by '60's technology; but, of course, caution is still key when using it. Maintain radio silence unless it is an emergency or you are sure you're alone." "Aye, sir," responded Granger. Murphy continued, "Our intial role will be that of surveilliance. To case the area out, and look for anything suspicious; this will give us an idea of what to look for. We don't have a lot of info about these people, so we'll really need to be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary." John gave a mental groan when he heard that. 'It's 1969, for crying out loud,' he thought. 'How are we supposed to know what is considered the ordinary here?' Murphy continued speaking. "Ok. And now we'll move on to the schematics of the mission. Can someone get the lights?" Marine Hunter Matheson stood, quickly stepped to the light switch, and flicked it off. He resumed his seat as Murphy turned on a slide projector that was sitting in the center of the table. John replaced his documents in the manila envelope they had come in, stuffed the packet under his armpit, folded his arms across his chest, and shifted his position against the wall. Murphy announced, "Here is a map of the Kennedy Space Center, located on the northern tip of Merritt Island." The projector whirred into life, and projected onto the wall a schematic map. "The center is 34 miles long, 6 miles wide, and covers 219 square miles of land; as of December 1968, launches were conducted from pads A and B at Launch Complex 39," recited Murphy. The screen changed to show schematics of the launch complex, pads, and the VAB (Vehicle Assembly Building). Murphy continued, "The VAB, or Vehicle Assembly Building, allows for the vertical assembly of the Saturn V rockets used in the Apollo space program." John nodded to himself, remembering learning that in his Academy studies. A thought occurred to him as Murphy asked, "Questions?" Randall said, "Commander, most of the main components were assembled there as well, correct?" Murphy nodded. "That's correct, if my historical research is correct." "Thank you, sir," acknowledged the engineer from Centaurus. Rinax then spoke up. "Commander, is this the area that we think sabotage may happen, or are we extending the operation to other areas as well?" Murphy replied, "That's our most likely suspicion, yes, given that the facility houses everything these people want to target. I know security will be strong there, but given the capabilities of these people, focus there is important." John caught that last statement, and thought to himself, 'So, they're still not telling us everything,' and sighed mentally. As Murphy gestured for the lights to be turned back on, which Randall obliged by doing so, and turned off the projector, Granger spoke up. "Commander?" Murphy turned to her. "Yes?" "Sir, we have word that security will be monitoring all areas that pertain to food, beverages, and the like; to be sure there are no gaps there. It sounds like they're covering their bases well," she said. Murphy nodded. "Ah, yes, that's right. All areas have been considered." Lieutenant H.G. Reed, seated at the table, spoke up. "Commander?" Murphy turned to her. "Yes, Ms. Reed?" "Are we conducting any scans for things that should not be in this period? Like technology?" she asked. Murphy nodded. "Most definitely, yes." Reed nodded. "I assume we might find the assassins that way." Rinax spoke up from her side of the table. "Careful with technology, don't slip. They just had the first computer-to-computer message sent, they only have eye and heart transplants, firsts for both things. We have to be very careful." Murphy nodded, looked around, and said, "Are there any more questions? We'd like everyone to familiarize themselves with the area by tomorrow." Rinax said, "Well, if anyone else slips with a technology that isn't around yet, report that one quickly." No one said anything, so Murphy said, "Ok, well, that concludes our meeting if there are no more questions. And, since it is the 4th, we might have some BBQ and fireworks planned." He smiled. The meeting broke up, several conversations going on between the away team members. John thought to himself, 'I need to get a paper, and read up on the '69 New York Mets.' He pushed himself away from the wall, took his packet out from underneath his arm, and stretched. Now, he had to figure out what he was going to do with himself the rest of the day. He thought he would go back out onto the porch, and read up on his information in more detail. Somehow, he had the nagging suspicion his very life might depend on what he knew, or didn't know in the coming days. END LOG *O.E.= Old Earth Reckoning Date

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 11302.17) The ship dropped out of warp speed, and the braking thrusters fired. In engineering, John sat unconscious at the warp core panel, strapped to his chair. He began to stir groggily after a few moments, then he heard the voice of chief engineer Eddie Freeman shouting to he and Steve Davis, wanting to know if they had awakened. The chief came up to the back of John's chair. He leaned over, studying the warp core panel, then looked down. "Hey, man, you comin' back around?" he asked. John put a hand to the back of his neck, and rubbed it softly. "I have one hell of a headache, Chief," he said thickly. Freeman gave a half-smile, and replied, "Yeah, I hear that." He straightened up. "Last time I felt like this was when we hit that elaron mine field. Nearly died that time. Take deep breaths; it's supposed to help." John nodded, wincing as he did so, and attempted to follow his superior's advice. After a few seconds, he did feel a little better. Freeman turned to go back to his office, and said over his shoulder, "Take your time, but not too much. And get that gun if you haven't already." John glanced down at the warp core panel, and froze in disbelief. "Chief, we got a problem," he said. Freeman, who had arrived back at the main console where his duffel bag was, looked up hastily at the concerned tone of his top assistant's voice. "What's up?" he asked warily. Randall looked at him. "The warp engines are out, and impulse power is beginning to fail. We may have burned out the crystals." Eddie's eyes widened slightly, and his face reflected concern as well. "And we're in 1969," he mused almost to himself. John said, "Well, sir, I anticipated this from reading Commander Scott's books, and while we were at Earth Spacedock, I requisitioned some spare crystals. Steve and his crew should be able to handle the extraction while we're on the mission." Freeman's face showed noticable relief as he sat down in a nearby chair. "Dude, you are getting a medal, or a promotion, or something for that." John smiled briefly, and said, "Well, sir, if I hadn't read Scott's books, we would be in a pickle, as my grandpa used to say." Freeman smiled and nodded, and resumed putting his stuff into his duffel bag. John walked by the main console, then pulled up short as he thought of something. He said, "Well, I need to go to my quarters, and get dressed. Chief, may I suggest you call the bridge, and tell them about the engines? We need to move the ship away from Earth ASAP." Freeman said, "Yep," and bent down to thumb the 'comm. Randall walked to the engineering doors, which swooshed open as he approached, and went out into the corridor, heading for the turbolift. He stepped inside and said, "Deck 8." The lift whisked him away, and, a few moments later, deposited him at the deck. John had been assigned new quarters on deck 3 when he received his promotion to full lieutenant, and would be moved into them after the current mission ended. He strode down the corridor, and the cabin doors swooshed open as he approached. He went in, stripped off his uniform, and dived into the head for a very quick water shower. He finished, toweled himself dry, and went to his bedroom. He put on a tank-top T shirt, then a button-down shirt with a NASA logo on the left breast pocket. He took a shoulder holster from his closet, put it on, then got his grandfather's Colt .45 revolver, and slipped it into the holster. He then put on a pair of work slacks, wing-tip shoes, stood, walked over to the mirror, and combed his still-wet hair into a ducktail. He then surveyed himself in a mirror, and nodded. He filled a backpack with spare clothes, and a box of ammunition for the Colt. He then looked curiously at a leather object which he had read in the computer archives was called a "billfold" or "wallet" in those days. The computer recommended he take it along, and he remembered that the Earth of 1969 used money. Real, actual currency. He remembered reading about it at Starfleet Academy as well. 'Never thought I would actually have to use anything like that,' he thought, then shrugged. 'The computer knows best,' he thought, and put the wallet into the back pocket of his slacks. He took one final look in the mirror, nodded to himself, then exited the cabin, heading for the turbolift. He stepped in, and said, "Deck 10." The lift whisked him away. John arrived at deck 10, exited the 'lift, and went along the corridor to the transporter room. He entered, finding several of the crew who had been selected for the mission already there. He walked over to join them, and took a jacket out of his backpack, putting it on. Eddie Freeman said to him, "Man, I feel weird in this outfit. Have to admit, these jeans are comfortable, though." Randall glanced over at him, then impulsively said, "You look groovy, chief." Freeman eyed him for a second, then laughed. "I'll take anything that isn't, 'you look like you're from the future,' to be honest," he replied. Randall smiled. "I'm trying to get into the lingo of the time," he said. Freeman frowned. "I'm not even gonna bother," he said. "Gonna wind up saying something that means 'good' when someone tells me their grandmother died or something." John eyed him for a moment at that remark, then said guardedly, "Well, sir, as you said, as long as you don't look 'far out, man,' you should be fine." About that time, one of the commanding officers of the mission, Morrison, cleared his throat. "May I have your attention!" The chatter stopped, and all eyes snapped to the commander. Some late arrivals came in, and John noticed Lieutenant H.G. Reed was one of them. He caught her eye and nodded at her; she nodded back, and came over to stand by him. Morrison said, "I am handing you each 100 dollars in the country's currency. Be careful how you spend it." He began handing each crew member the currency. As he was making the rounds, John whispered to Reed, "You look very nice, Lieutenant." The female helmsman was wearing a blue uniform with an Air Force logo on the left side of her blouse. The uniform was completed by a pencil skirt, hose with seams, and high heels. She flushed slightly at the compliment, and nodded, glancing at him briefly. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I do not suppose this will last very long." Morrison arrived at that moment to hand the two of them their currency. John glanced curiously at the bills, then remembered he was supposed to carry them in his "billfold." He took the leather object from his pants pocket, inserted the bills in the only place that would take them without folding them, then put the "billfold" back into his pocket. He glanced back at the female lieutenant, who had finished putting her currency away, and said, "We can only hope." Reed glanced at him, then nodded. "This mission is going to be difficult, in a myriad of ways." Morrison finished handing out the currency, then got involved with teasing first officer Erica Rinax about hers. Finally, the captain, who had made his way down from the bridge to see the team off, cleared his throat. "Let's try for some decorum down there; good luck, everyone. The future of Earth depends on you." Everyone nodded and replied with affirmations to the captain's statement. Morrison became serious, and said, "The largest gap in this mission is just how much information we don't have, and the little time we have to find it out. It's imperative that the original Apollo 11 mission complete as history has shown. Otherwise, the future we return to could be vastly different than you know. No one wants Earth to be called New Romulus or Borg Matrix 001." Commander Zach Murphy chimed in with, "Or serve in the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics." The away team then assembled onto the transporter pad. When they were in position, Captain Ja'Lale nodded to the transporter chief, and the team shimmered out of existence. They rematerialized in a wooded clearing. The commanders took a head count, verifying everyone had transported safely. Commander Murphy then said, "All right. Let's get into town and settle in, shall we?" The Starfleet marines who were them quickly formed a perimeter around the group, and they began walking toward a clump of bushes that Murphy said concealed two vans that the covert operatives had procured and hidden for the away team's use. A few minutes of walking later, the group arrived at the bushes, and two vehicles were indeed there. The commanders identified them as a Volkswagon and a Ford Econoline. John remembered reading about the vans in his study of the time period. The commanders suggested the team split in two to transport into town, and John immediately headed for the Ford van, having read it was the more powerful of the two. He boarded the van, and headed for the far back seat, sliding to the window side where he could look out. The other members began boarding, and, a few seconds later, John felt someone sit beside him. He glanced over, and saw it was Lieutenant Reed. He gave her a quick smile, which she returned, then he resumed staring out the window. A few minutes later, a vibration spread throughout the van, and, with a slight lurch, the vehicle began to move. They were soon speeding along at a pretty good pace. John watched the scenery roll by the window, his thoughts drifting back home to Centaurus, where he remembered speeding along a wooded road much like this one in his groundcar. The dirt road soon turned into an asphalt-covered road, then, a few minutes later, they turned onto a concrete-covered road that went up an incline to another asphalt-covered road. John remembered from his study of this time period that this multi-lane highway, filled with other vehicles, had been called an "Interstate" because it connected states to each other. He was also trying to remember that, in this era, this country was still called the "United States Of America." There was fascinating scenery along this road as well. Endless signs dotted the landscape. They ranged from speed limit to cautionary to advertisements. Towns and cities were also marked as well. John thought to himself, 'I would go crazy trying to figure all this out.' Then he thought, 'No, I wouldn't, because I would have grown up with all this.' Still, it was....bewildering. After a short time, the van left the asphalt highway, traveling down a concrete covered incline. They turned onto another asphalt road, and negotiated their way down it. John noted that Starfleet Marine Hunter Matheson was 'driving', as they referred to it in this era, and highly approved of the Marine's skills. 'Wonder how much time he spent in a holodeck doing this,' thought Randall wryly. They turned down a road lined with houses on either side. Children were out on the lawns playing as they drove past. The van turned into a concrete covered short road, which John recalled was termed a 'driveway,' and the vehicle came to a stop. On the left was a huge house which Randall assumed would be their headquarters and living accomdations for the mission. The crew began exiting the van, and John stepped off the van onto the grass covered lawn. He set his backpack down, and stretched thankfully, getting his blood circulating again. A voice came from behind him. "Okay, sir?" it asked. John turned to see Marine Hunter Matheson standing looking at him. He smiled briefly at the marine. "Yeah, just getting rid of some kinks," he replied, and Matheson nodded. "Roger that, sir," he said, then went to assist Reed and Marine Captain Cassidy Granger with their bags. The team assembled in what was called a 'garage,' Randall remembered. Morrison and Murphy did another head count, then Murphy said, "Okay, we might as well get settled in, guys. Since tomorrow is a holiday, we'll have two days to rest and orient ourselves." Then he started joking around with Rinax about shooting off fireworks tomorrow, and Randall soon grew impatient with the whole thing. He raised his voice slightly, and said, "So, Commander Murphy, do we get rooms, or what?" The bit of an edge in his voice made the chatter die momentarily, and Rinax quickly said, "At 0600, we'll have a debriefing tomorrow morning, right, Murph?" "That's right," replied the commander. "We'll have a lot to discuss there, so get some good rest." John shook his head, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the door of the building, following Matheson, whom he had seen enter ahead of him. The marine went down a hallway, opened a door, and disappeared into a room. Randall paused, then stopped at the first door he came to, and did the same. He threw his backpack onto the bed, and stretched out beside it, letting the tension drain from his body. He was very apprehensive about this mission, he suddenly realized; and he didn't know why. All he knew was, he had a feeling something bad was going to happen. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 13002.02) The Challenger crew returned to the ship, and the senior officers were quickly paged to report to the rec deck. When they arrived, Captain Ja'lale and Commander Rinax were waiting for them. "We would like for Lieutenant Freeman and Doctor Hanson to be front and center, please," the captain said. The two officers came forward, and Ja'lale said, "Lieutenant Freeman and Dr. Hanson, for your continued service and dedication to the USS Challenger, you are hereby promoted. Lieutenant Freeman, I bestow upon you the rank of Lieutenant Commander, with all the privileges and responsibilities attached therein." He pinned a pip to Freeman's collar, nodded, and turned to Gretchen. "Dr. Hanson, I bestow upon you the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade, with all the privileges and responsibilities attached therein." He pinned a pip to Hanson's collar, nodded, and stepped back. The senior officers applauded, and the captain said, "Dismissed!" The meeting disbanded, and the officers went to their respective departments. John and Eddie made their way to engineering, and immediately upon entering, John went straight to the main console to begin laying in the parameters for Challenger's time jump. Freeman went to his office, where he had been assembling his gear for the mission; he and Randall were to pose as NASA engineers to help ensure that the Apollo 11 mission to the moon took place. Eddie stared at his gear, trying to decide what to take. About 5 minutes later, he came out of the office, and went over to check on John's progress. He moved behind Randall's chair on his way to his locker, and said, " I don't suppose you've got any kind of experience with time travel?" John, without looking up, said, "Only what I've read in Commander Montgomery Scott's books, Commander." Freeman nodded and said, "About the same. I keep wanting to pack equipment, and then I realize what I want to take hasn't been invented yet." John finished his latest round of calculations, and sat back in his chair, mopping his brow. "Well, there it is," he said, "according to Scott, and I still don't like it. But, according to him, this was how the Enterprise did it." Freeman wandered over to where John sat, and said, "Here, let me see. Not that I'm gonna to have any better idea than you if you're on the right track." He stared at the screen, which showed some complex equations, and shook his head. The intercom sounded with the voice of the 'comm officer, Dvokr chim Hok, requesting a status update. The chief of engineering turned to his number two. "Are we ready?" he asked. Randall sighed, spread his hands, and said, "I guess as we'll ever be, chief. I'll go assist Steve in inputting the data, all right?" Freeman nodded, said to him, "All right," and thumbed the 'comm. "Engineering is go," he said. John walked back to the warp core station where his friend Steve Davis was on duty. As he walked, he saw on his PADD a request from helmsman Lieutenant H.G. Reed for final data for the temporal jump. John formatted a message to her, and sent it. He arrived at the warp core station, and gave his friend a worried smile. "Hey, Steve, how's it going?" Davis looked over at Randall briefly, and said, "Hey, Lieutenant; we're good to go, far as I can tell." John nodded at him, then made a wry face. "Ok, all we have to do is keep the engines from blowing up now." Davis looked at him. "How fast are we gonna have to go, sir?" Randall replied, "Well, from what I've read, we have to maintain a speed of warp 9.7 for about 5 minutes in realtime. So, this is gonna be tricky. I hope these new engines live up to their billing." Davis, upon hearing that news, shuddered slightly. "I hope so, too, John." Randall nodded, and began making some last-minute adjustments on the panel. A few minutes later, he stepped back, looked at his work, and was about as satisfied as he was ever gonna be, he realized. He thumbed the 'comm button on the panel. "Randall to Freeman." "Go ahead," responded the chief of engineering. "We're good to go, Commander," John reported. "Sounds good," Freeman said. "Quick question. You planning on packing? It sounds like everyone's taking a 20th century pistol instead of a phaser, me included." John shifted uncomfortably, and replied, "Uh, yeah, about that, chief; I have a Colt .45 revolver that's been in the family for a while, and it's here on the ship in my cabin. All I have to do is clean it." Freeman smiled to himself, and said, "I made a clone of some little German 9 millimeter in the machine shop last night. Some famous fictional spy used it. Feel free to grab yours and bring it down. If we're gonna get in a firefight, better not to use energy weapons." "Acknowledged, sir," John said. "The one I have belonged to my grandfather, who bought it in a pawn shop on Rigel." He chuckled briefly, then continued, "I'll get into the appropriate dress code when we arrive. I'm still worried about these configurations. Randall out." He looked over at Davis. "Ok, Steve, stay alert, and be ready for anything, and I mean ANYTHING." Davis looked at his friend. "What's bothering you, pal?" Randall sighed, looked around for a second, then lowered his voice. "Every time Enterprise did one of these jumps, something went wrong with the ship. I'm really hoping that doesn't happen to us." Davis' eyes widened briefly, this his face set grimly. "I'll be extra vigilant, John." His friend nodded worriedly, his eyes never leaving the panel in front of him. Time crawled by, or at least it seemed that way to John. 'Give the order already, captain,' he thought to himself. Finally, he heard Hok's voice come over the 'comm. "Engineering, prepare for timejump departure," it said. Freeman's voice came from behind him, and the lieutenant turned to look at him. "Randall, that's our cue," said the chief. "Let's get her ready." John nodded and said, "Aye, sir. We're ready." Freeman nodded to him, and went to the main console. Randall turned back to the panel, caught Davis' eye briefly, and nodded. He glued his eyes to the panel, and hoped ferevently that this worked. The engines began to increase their whine, and gradually built up to a sustained rapid pulse thrumming through the warp core tube. John watched the panel nervously, willing the ship to make it. What seemed to be a few seconds later, the ship lurched to the right, and John felt himself losing consciousness. He and Davis had strapped themselves into their chairs. Matters were beyond their control now. END LOG

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 13001.25) John awoke from a good, long sleep in his bed; he checked the chronometer, and was slightly startled to see that he had been asleep for almost 9 hours. 'Haven't slept that long in a while,' he thought as he got out of bed. He stripped off his pajamas, and made his way to the head where he proceeded to take a 20 minute shower. He finished, toweled himself dry, and went to his bedroom, changing into his duty uniform. He went into the small galley, made his breakfast drink, and gulped it down. He then exited his cabin, and made his way along the corridor to the turbolift. He waited a few moments while the lift was in use, then it arrived, and he stepped in. "Deck 12," he said, and the lift whisked him away. The lift arrived at deck twelve, and John exited, making his way along the corridor toward engineering. The doors swooshed open as he approached, and he made his way inside. He glanced around at the crew as he made his way toward the main console, acknowledging some hand waves and good morning's. He arrived at the console, and sat down at a station. He logged in for duty, and pulled up the mission brief e-mail that had been sent out. Chief of Engineering Lieutenant Eddie Freeman walked by the back of Randall's chair as he made his way toward an empty station at the console. "Hey, man, how you doin'?" John looked up and back at the sound of Freeman's voice, gave a brief smile, and said, "Hey, chief, doing good here; just reading about the new mission. How's it going with you?" "Not too bad," replied Freeman. "Already got a bad feeling about this. The last few missions have ended in real messes. There was even a time a few missions ago when we got boarded. That one was especially messy." John snorted and said, "Heh, yeah; maybe we won't end up in a battle with the Romulans again, huh?" A wicked smile crossed Randall's face as he finished speaking. Freeman eyed Randall out of the corner of his eye, grimaced, and said, "Yeah. Or the Orions. Tangled with them, too." He looked over his shoulder at a certain corner for a second. "I'm probably just jumping at shadows, though. It's just spatial anomalies, right? Those usually turn out to be an undiscovered quasar or something." John nodded briefly. "Yeah, after the last two missions, we could use some quiet science data gathering, right?" Freeman nodded absently, and the two men worked in silence for a few moments. John finished studying the reports left by the night shift, and idly brought up the ship's roster, knowing some new personnel had come aboard at Starbase 103. He sifted through the names until one literally jumped off the screen at him, and his eyes widened in disbelief. "Well, I'll be....," he blurted, and Eddie looked over at him. "Sup?" asked the chief of engineering. "Chief, check the ship roster," John said. "I believe Lieutenant Reed is back." Freeman's eyes widened as well, and he quickly brought up the ship roster. "Yeah, and in her old position, too," he said. "That's pretty cool! Along with some guy named Matheson, but I don't know him." John idly scanned the roster some more, then said, "Yeah, I believe it says he's one of the new Marines. Well, never hurts to have them around, that's for sure." Freeman pondered that for a second, then said, "Huh. I wonder if we got Marines and got Reed back because this is gonna be a big mess after all. " John gave a huge sigh, which bordered on a moan, and looked at his boss. "I never thought of that, Chief. With all due respect, I hope you're wrong." The men worked in silence for a few moments, then an incoming message from the bridge flashed onto Randall's monitor. He was pleased and delighted to see that the e-mail was from Lieutenant Reed, alerting engineering to a sensor diagnostic being done. He acknowledged the message, sent a confirmation, and a personal welcome back to the lady lieutenant. John then pulled up the info on the new engines' performance, and studied it. Freeman, who had also seen the message from Reed, and had sent a personal welcome back message of his own, leaned back in his seat. "Never thought I'd be glad for a boring cataloguing job," he mused. "It'll be like a vacation after the last few runs." John looked over at his boss and friend, and grinned sarcastically. "Yeah, we've done our share of saving the Federation lately, haven't we?" Suddenly, the warp engines whined loudly, and there was a definite lurch to the right. The two men grabbed their consoles, and Freeman said, "Whoa! Somebody just stepped on the accelerator!" Randall dropped his head into his hands as the ship steadied, and moaned, "Oh, no. I have a feeling you were right, Chief." Eddie quickly checked on the ship heading, and shook his head. "Somebody turned us around first, too. We're going somewhere that isn't where we were originally going, and we're going there really fast." Another e-mail flashed onto John's panel; it was from Reed, who wanted to know if he and Freeman would be free for dinner later to catch up. Randall sent a reply that he would love to, then turned to Eddie. "Well, Chief, wonder who we have to save this time? We never get the easy ones, do we?" Freeman, who had replied to Reed's e-mail as well, grinned. "Nope. Apparently, if something comes up, we're one of the ones they call to handle it. At least we're not the Enterprise, though. They get the downright impossible ones." John nodded. "Yeah, there is that, I guess. Well, I'm gonna go assist Steve at the warp core; at high warp, the engines need a little more scrutiny, eh?" The chief nodded. "Yeah. And I'm gonna double-check the weapons and shields, just in case." John grinned. "I would say that's a REAL good idea, chief." Randall got up, and went to the back of the room where the massive warp core of the Challenger was humming loudly along; at high warp, there was a definite vibration that could be felt in the floor of the room next to the warp core. Freeman reached for a PADD, then, reluctantly, got up and went over to the shield system panel. Ensign Steve Davis turned as John arrived at the warp core station, and grinned at him. "Somebody stepped on the gas, Lieutenant." John returned the smile, then frowned. "Yeah, so much for our little cataloguing run, I'm afraid." Davis looked at him. "You really think so, John?" Randall nodded, and sighed. "The chief feels the same way. I have a feeling we're about to get thrown into the fire again." Davis nodded, and the two friends monitored the warp engines the rest of the trip to Sector 001, or Earth Spacedock. A little time later, John heard his communicator chime. "Mr. Randall, report to the rec deck." "Acknowledged," he replied, and left engineering after glancing at Freeman, who nodded that he, also, had heard the order. John made his way to the turbolift, and stepped in. "Deck 15," he said, and the lift took him away. He arrived, exited the lift, and walked along the corridor to the rec room doors. They swooshed open at his approach, and he entered to be met by the sight of the captain, first officer Rinax, and a small gathering of other officers. "Front and center, Mr. Randall," intoned Ja'Lale, and John quickly walked up to stand at full attention in front of his captain. "Mr. Randall, due to your continued service and contributions to the USS Challenger, it is our pleasure to promote you to the rank of full lieutenant; and grant you all of the privileges and responsibilities afforded to such rank. Congratulations!" The captain stepped forward and affixed a pip to John's collar as everyone who was there gave him congratulations as well. "Thank you, Captain," said Randall somberly. "I will continue to do my best. " "Acknowledged, Lieutenant Randall," said the captain. "Dismissed!" The gathering came to attention briefly, then everyone reported to their stations. The Challenger arrived at Spacedock, Earth, and John had made his way back to engineering after the award ceremony. There had been the necessary hoopla at his return; he bore it good-naturedly, then ordered the crew back to their stations, but he did it with a smile on his face. He was told that Freeman had left word that he had command of engineering; the chief didn't say why. Randall nodded, and told the crew to secure their stations. He also said he would find out about any possible shore leave. The crew went to work, and John spotted Steve Davis at the main console. The new lieutenant walked over to him. "How's it going, my friend?" asked Randall. "All good here, sir," replied Davis with one of his mischievious smiles, and clapped John on the shoulder. "Congrats on the promotion, buddy." Randall smiled at him. "Thanks, my friend. I need to report for the briefing, I guess, so, you have control here, and I'll see you later." "Aye, aye, sir," grinned Steve, and he laughed as John grimaced, then grinned back at him, heading for the engineering doors. Randall made his way along the corridor to the turbolift, and had to wait a few moments as it was in use. The lift arrived, and he stepped in. "Deck 10," he said, and the lift whisked him away. He arrived, and exited the lift, going along the corridor to the transporter room, wher he found most of the bridge crew about to beam down. He nodded at the chief, stepped up onto the dais, and shimmered out of existence with them. They rematerialized in front of a massive building; the sign on front read: 'Starfleet Intelligence'. John, remembering his last Intel mission, frowned. He then caught the eye of Lieutenant Reed as a young officer came to escort them into the building. He gave her a quick nod and a brief smile, which she returned, and they entered the complex. The young officer lead them to a couple of side-by-side doors, which whooshed open as the party approached. They entered the spacious room, and, seated around a large circular table, were several individuals in different types of uniforms. One arose from his seat as they came in. "Ahh, welcome," he said. "Please settle in and take your seats." John, regarding the man closely, read the pips on the collar; the man was a Starfleet admiral. The new lieutenant took a seat, and eyed the rest of the people sitting and/or standing. He had a very bad feeling about this. He then noticed Captain Ja'Lale look at a woman in a Starfleet Marine uniform. "Ah, Marine Captain Granger, I presume?" he said. "Aye, Captain," came the reply in a quick, clipped tone. "Cassidy Granger, Captain, Starfleet Marine Corps CounterIntelligence, Captain." She gestured briefly at some men standing at attention along the wall. "And this is Delta Team, sir," she said. "Nice to meet you," said Ja'Lale. "I just received your transfer orders. Welcome to the Challenger." He nodded at the Marines, who gave a quick nod of acknowledgment. While Granger introduced her team to the captain, John noted to himself that Freeman had been right; the Challenger was going to get thrown into the midst of something yet again. 'Such is Starfleet life,' he breathed to himself, then settled in to listen as the admiral introduced some other people that were in the room as well, and the briefing got underway. He listened increduously as a Commander Zach Murphy outlined the mission: they were to travel back in time to the year circa 1969 O.R. (Old Earth Reckoning Date), and stop a gang of terrorists, for want of a better term, from stopping the Apollo 11 mission to the moon. The terrorist gang were plotting to sabotage the rocket that would deliver the astronauts to the moon for the history-making flight. Their orders were to stop the terrorists and ensure the flight took place as scheduled. As the mission was laid out, John mentally groaned to himself. 'Here we go again,' he thought. He listened as questions came back and forth about the mission, then his eyes jerked to Murphy as the commander addressed a query to him. "Mr. Freeman, I'd like you to prepare the Challenger for a temporal sling shot around the sun. Make sure our dilithium crystals can take the jump." John straightened in his seat, and said, "The name is Lieutenant Randall, sir; acknowledged, and it will take a little time to perform the calculations." Murphy acknowledged the correction with a rapid blink of his eyes, then said, "How much time do you need?" John began to answer, then, out of the corner of his eye, saw Reed give him a quick nod, and he knew he would have help on the calculations. He gave her a quick nod of acknowledgment, then said, "Hard to say, sir; each jump is different." Commander Erica Rinax, the first officer of the Challenger, who had slipped into the room about halfway through the briefing, said, "I'm sure Intel has calculated a couple of million times prior in preparation; they can share the info with you, Randall." John turned and looked at the commander coldly, then shifted his attention back to Murphy, who said, "Do you think 6 hours will suffice? I don't want to wait too long." Randall said, "That might do it, sir." The commander nodded. "Very well, then. We'll leave in 6 hours. Be sure to stock up on spare crystals. I would like to be able to return back to our time when this is all done." He grinned, and John smiled slightly back at him, but his eyes were cold. "Acknowledged, sir," he said. The meeting was dismissed, and the crew prepared to beam back to the ship. END LOG

Is there any way the actual log can be uploaded, please? Thanks in advance.

OFFICIAL LOG LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL USS CHALLENGER (Personal Log Stardate 11212.30) The Challenger made her way to Starbase 103, limping along at full impulse speed. It had been a wild ending to a harrowing chase of several A.U.s; the smugglers' ship had been a surprise to Challenger on how fast it was. The crew would later learn that the ship was basically a huge engineering room with the barest of bridge instruments to guide it; it was all run by computer. When the Challenger finally caught up with the smaller ship, as was inevitable, the smugglers again caught the Federation starship by surprise; inside a nebula, the smugglers' ship ejected its warp core as the last line of defense. Taken by surprise, Challenger turned and attempted to get as far away as it could from the explosion that was about to occur; but the huge starship didn't get far before it was rocked by a titanic blast. The expanding shock wave from the exploding warp core caught Challenger almost fully on the starboard side. The ship suffered multiple hull breaches, and caused major damage to the ship's interior. No one was unaffected by the blast; there were multiple injuries ranging from minor to fatal. In the following days, as the ship limped its way toward Starbase 103, the engineering and medical crews were put to the test. Ship surgeon and chief medical officer Gretchen Hanson, who, luckily had sustained only a minor injury, had her medical resources stretched to the limit as wave after wave of injured crewpeople were brought to sickbay. Anyone and everyone who were not seriously hurt, and who had the tiniest sliver of medical knowledge or first aid, was commandeered by her and put to work helping the more seriously wounded and/or injured. In engineering, the crew there was also pushed to its limits; the ship was very badly damaged, and there was much work to be done during the trip to the starbase. Fortunately, Challenger's force fields had held in place; the corridors had been mainly empty as everyone had been at battle stations during the chase, so there was minimal loss of life as the hulls had ruptured from the blast of the shock wave. The damage, however, was extensive, and the crew worked round the clock to keep the ship intact as best they could for the journey. In sickbay, John Randall, who had been knocked against the main console as the shock wave impacted the ship, regained consciousness, and looked around, realizing quickly he had been taken to sickbay. 'Man, I just got out of here', he thought wryly as he looked around. He saw a lot of injured people, and thought he was pretty fortunate; some of them had covers pulled over their heads, and he knew what that meant. He sat up slowly in his biobed, and took stock of his injuries; surprisingly, he felt very little pain. He put his hand to the side of his head, and felt a pretty good lump there; he also realized it was the same side where he had been injured in his fight with the Klingon on Beta Octavius IV, and thought, 'Well, it could be worse. I could've cracked my skull open again'. He turned his head slightly, and saw the first officer, Commander Erica Rinax, limping toward him. He smiled as she reached his bed. "How are you doing, Lieutenant?" she asked as she arrived. "Actually, not bad, sir," he replied. "I took a shot to my head, but someone must have injected me on the transport here. I'm doing pretty good." "Good enough to go back on duty?" asked the first officer. John nodded. "Yes, m'am, I think so." Rinax nodded. "Dr. Hanson told me to tell you, if you felt good enough, you are released. Go fix our ship." Randall grinned at that. "I'll do my best, Commander." Rinax smiled and nodded. "You are officially released, Lieutenant Randall." Then she softened her tone, and said, "And I'm glad you're all right." She straightened back up. "Dismissed!" she barked, and winked. John smiled, and said, "Aye, sir." He got out of the bed, waiting for a moment as the room spun slightly, then made his way to the doors of sickbay, which whooshed open, and he went out into a mostly intact corridor. Behind him, he did not see Commander Rinax look after him with concern, then she turned her attention to helping other patients. John made his way to the turbolift, which was still working, and entered. "Deck 8," he snapped, and the lift took him there. He stepped out, and made his way along a corridor that had some damage done to it, but it was still navigable. He arrived at his cabin, the doors slid open, and he stepped inside. Amazingly, everything was pretty much intact, and he gave a huge mental sigh. He stripped off his uniform, and went into the head to take a long, hot shower. Some 20 minutes, he exited the head, feeling much better, and put on a clean uniform. He went over to his computer terminal, and punched the 'comm button. "Randall to Freeman." The answer came back almost immediately. "Freeman here, how you doing, Randall?" "I'm all right, Chief; where do you want me?" "Have you been cleared for duty?" Freeman asked. "Yeah, I'm okay," replied Randall. "Well, I guess you could take a team, and head to deck 9; it's pretty messy there from what I've been told," said the chief of engineering. "Acknowledged, Chief," said John. "I'm on it. Randall out." He left his cabin, and made his way along the corridor to the turbolift. "Deck 12," he said, and the lift whisked him away. He arrived at his destination, and went along the corridor to engineering. He strode inside, and looked around at the crew doing their jobs. Some turned as he approached, and he waved them back to work. He reached the main console, and punched the 'comm button. "Randall to Davis," he intoned, and the answer was immediate. "Davis here, good to hear your voice, John." "Thanks, old friend, likewise," replied Randall. "Status report, please." "The chief has us on deck 9, John; we're doing a little bit of everything here." "Ok, Steve, I'm coming up to lend you a hand." "That would be appreciated, sir," came Davis' dry tone, and John involuntarily grinned. "I bet it would. Carry on, ensign, I'll be there shortly. Randall out." "Acknowledged, John, Davis out." John went to his locker, got his kit, and had the lift take him to deck 9. The next few days were very similar as the engineering and medical crews worked on the ship and its crew. Finally, Challenger arrived at Starbase 103. The ship eased into a drydock next to the base. People sitting in lounges crowded against the viewports to see the ship, and there was many a gasp as the onlookers took in the damage to the starship. The base medical and engineering crews were on standby, and as the ship did its final docking, immediately went aboard the ship to begin repairs, and to replenish the heavily taxed medical supplies. The more serious injuries were beamed over to the base sickbay. After a few days, Challenger was repaired, the ship was restocked, and the captain received new orders from Starfleet for their next mission. John entered his cabin on the day the Challenger was scheduled to leave Starbase 103. After a full shift of helping oversee the final repairs to the ship, and maybe more importantly, the warp engines, he was dead tired. He pulled off his duty uniform, and went to the head to take a shower. About 25 minutes later, he exited the head, and came out into the main room of the cabin. He went to his desk, and unwrapped a package that had been delivered to him while Challenger had been at the base. He smiled as he took out a cube from his brother on Centaurus, and walked over to the player. He inserted the cube, and grinned as the first game of the Centauran World Series of null-G ball came on. He paused the player, went to his mini-fridge to grab a bottle of flavored water, and went to his couch to enjoy the game. Later, having watched the McIverton Druids take game one of the series, he was then very pleased to see that his brother had recorded some family images for him. He watched until they ran out about an hour later, then he turned off the player, and walked into his bedroom. He took off the civvie clothes he had put on, put on his pajamas, and climbed into bed, falling asleep almost immediately. END LOG

Thank you, Commander. It would really be helpful, though, if once in a while we could get the log of the sim posted in order to write a more accurate personal log? Might be something to consider. Respectfully, Lieutenant John Randall