On Mon, 05 Jul 2004 15:44:31 GMT, in alt.startrek.creative, "Khaliban" wrote: Lieutenant Keegan - The Trial by Khaliban A ST:Voyager story Part 1/12 PG-13 Summary: Is it a crime to be too good at your job? STARDATE 55217.57: First Day of The Trial Three admirals, a human, an Andorian and a Vulcan, all members of the Federation Council, sat and watched the accused. Across the room from them were two tables, prosecution and defense. Two people sat at the defense table, one sat at prosecution. Two women and a man, two commanders and a lieutenant respectively. Perpendicular to all three tables stood a full gallery. Admiral Kathryn Janeway sat in the front row of the gallery and waited. One of the admirals at the table struck a bell three times. "This tribunal is called to order," he said. He read a list of charges: mutiny, insubordination, interfering with the development of a sentient lifeform, lying to a superior officer and entering Starfleet illegally. The list, seven years of deception, took some time to complete. "How do you plead?" the admiral asked when he finished. "Not guilty," Lieutenant Keegan said. In the gallery, not a voice was heard, not a whisper, not a murmur, not a gasp. But Kathryn Janeway ground her anger into her teeth. "Mister Keegan," the councilman continued, "I strongly recommend you reconsider. We are prepared to dismiss all charges but the last and discharge you honorably. I'm certain there are many places you could put your talents to work." "But not Starfleet," Keegan said. "No," the admiral said, "Of course not." "My plea stands." The admiral sighed. "Has your co-counsel explained what will happen to you if you are convicted?" "I knew it before she told me." "Yes, of course," the admiral said, nodding. "Mister Keegan, you are charged with--" "Being born, Admiral." "That will be enough, Mister Keegan," the Andorian admiral said. "My apologies to the court, sir." The first admiral, Harmendra Chauhan, continued. "Mister Keegan, your crimes are formidable but also understandable. We are willing to ignore them, if you will leave Starfleet." "I thought Starfleet prided itself on its diversity and tolerance. If there is no room in Starfleet for someone who is perfect, where shall I go?" Admiral Chauhan controlled himself. "Perhaps a university." Keegan smiled. "Those who are not allowed, teach?" "That will be the last of that, Mister Keegan," said the second admiral, Bretu Pek, an Andorian male. "Again," he said, "my apologies, sir. But, I will not change my plea. I am a Starfleet officer. I intend to stay that way." "Co-counsel," Admiral Chauhan said, "will your client be persuaded?" Commander Anzhelika Ponomarev, counsel for the defense, shook her head. "No, sir. My client informs me he made this decision some years ago. I do not believe he will waver from it." "Very well," Chauhan said. "We will hear opening arguments in two days. Mister Keegan, are you certain you wish to serve as your own counsel?" "I have had seven years to prepare my defense, Admiral. I do not believe Commander Ponomarev, whatever her skill, could match my knowledge of the case or the regulations in question. However, I am satisfied with her work as co-counsel." "Very well. This court will reconvene in two days at oh-nine-hundred." * * * STARDATE 54685.84: Six Months Before The Trial, Three Months Before Voyager's Return to the Alpha Quadrant "Sit still," Tom said. "Why?" Phil replied, "It's not necessary for the scan." "You make me nervous," Tom said. "Oh." Phil looked at the two security officers stationed in the brig. "I heard you had a baby shower." "Yes," Tom said. "Sorry I couldn't be there." Tom stepped back. "Damn it, Phil, why couldn't you be a normal alien?" Keegan considered him a moment. "Look at those two," he said. Tom turned towards the officers. In the corner of his eye, he could see Phil slowly stand. The two security officers raised their phaser rifles and aimed them at Lieutenant Keegan. Security set their phaser frequency to fire through the force field. "We trained under Tuvok together," Phil said. "The day we passed our final tests, we replicated some real alcohol, went to the holodeck, got drunk, and promised we'd die for each other. They'll shoot me if I take a step toward you." He sat back down. It was some time before the rifles were lowered. "You lied to everyone," Tom said. "You gave me a reason to," Phil replied. "Why do you need to win ever conversation? What does that get you?" "Nothing," Phil said. "It's something my grandfather taught me." Tom finished his scan. "I'll have to analyze this," he said. "I'm sure the captain will want to talk to you." Tom walked to the shield. One officer aimed a rifle at Keegan. The other walked to the shield controls, deactivated it, pulled Tom out and reactivated the shield as quickly as possible. "I hate that part," Tom said, walking out. "So do I," Phil answered. * * * "Well?" Captain Janeway said. Tom put down his PADD. "I scanned him three times. I analyzed the data of each scan five times. I compared the data to the scans of Khan from the Enterprise. He is, without question, a eugenic from the late twentieth century." "Would the Doctor confirm your findings?" Janeway said. "No. He says he doesn't trust himself where the lieutenant is concerned." Kathryn Janeway simmered over the information. "Seven," she said, "Contact Starfleet. Let's get this over with." Two hours later, Tuvok and four of his officers removed Lieutenant Keegan from the brig and walked him to Astrometrics. Crewmembers filled the intersections of the corridors they walked, watching silently as they passed. Phil's eyes never left Tuvok's back, until Lisa Hanunga came into view. He stopped in front of her, and four rifles turned on him. "Sorry," he said. "Tripped over something. Damn carpets are frayed." "I will have maintenance look into it," Tuvok said. "If you are done tripping, we should continue. We are on a tight schedule." Janeway, Chakotay, Tom and Seven of Nine waited in Astrometrics. Seven established the connection when Tuvok arrived, and Admiral Paris appeared on the screen. "Why is this man still in uniform?" the admiral asked. "Decency?" Phil said. Janeway leaned close to him. "Stop it, Phil!" she whispered. "I am in uniform because I am a Starfleet officer," he said. "Not anymore," the admiral replied. "You are dismissed." "With all due respect, Admiral, you can't do that," Phil said. "The regulation is clear," the admiral said. "Admiral," Captain Janeway began, "I'd like you to consider--" "Yes, Admiral, both regulations are clear," Phil said. "That regulation does not apply to me. You cannot summarily dismiss me because I am eugenic." "Yes, I can. Eugenics are not allowed in Starfleet." Phil spoke with a sneer in his voice. "But, Admiral, I am a victim of time travel." "What?" the admiral said, looking first at Janeway, then Tuvok. "The statute could be so interpreted," Tuvok said. "No, it couldn't," Admiral Paris said. "Statute?" Seven asked. Phil turned to her. "'No individual taken through time by any method against their will can be held accountable for any Federation crime that was committed prior to the birth or after the passing of the life of the Federation if a corresponding law did not exist forbidding the act at the time and place the crime was committed.' Eugenics was not illegal when I was born, and I did not travel here of my own free will." "It doesn't matter when you were born," the admiral said, "You are a eugenic. You cannot enter Starfleet." "Admiral," Tuvok said, "The regulation you are referring to was designed to deter genetic engineers or parents from providing children with an unfair advantage when applying to the Academy and removing the possible emotional instability found in many eugenics. The genetic engineers that constructed Lieutenant Keegan, however, did so without the knowledge of any Starfleet regulation. It is possible that he cannot be held accountable for their actions." "Are you out of your mind?" the admiral said. "I am a Vulcan," Tuvok replied. "And I taught law at the Academy." "It seems this is a matter of interpretation," Chakotay said. Keegan nodded to Chakotay. "'Upon being accused of treason against the Federation, Starfleet personnel may demand a trial conducted by the Federation judiciary. If the individual is acquitted, Starfleet Command shall have no further legal recourse against the accused in said manner.' I would like my day in court, sir." "Don't 'sir' me," the admiral said. "We are losing the signal," Seven said. "Shall we continue this tomorrow?" the captain asked. "Mister Tuvok," Admiral Paris said, "Review those regulations. I want a more detailed recommendation from you." "Yes, sir." "Paris out." "Phil," Chakotay said, "That was impressive if arrogant." "I've had seven years to prepare, Commander, and law was always one of my better subjects. And, Mister Tuvok," Keegan said, "I thank you for being Vulcan." "I am doing my duty, Lieutenant. If you will accompany me. I must return you to your cell." After they left, Janeway turned to Tom. "You were quiet." "I've never seen anyone do that to my father," he said. "I was enjoying the ride." * * * "Why are you here?" Phil asked the next day. Tom shrugged. "I was supposed to provide my father with the medical records. I'm sure he planned to praise me for their accuracy then kick you out." "Well," Phil said, "I'm glad you're here anyway." "The connection is ready," Seven said. Admiral Paris appeared on the screen. A commodore and a lieutenant commander stood next to him. "Let's get this over with," Admiral Paris said. The commodore stepped forward. "Admiral, we are here to listen to Mister Tuvok's recommendation and hear Mister Keegan's case." "Very well. Mister Tuvok, what is your assessment of Mister Keegan's claim?" Tuvok raised a PADD. "After review, I find Lieutenant Keegan's case has merit. I recommend a tribunal to decide the matter. I also offer myself as either prosecutor or defense attorney. Commander Chakotay is sufficiently knowledgeable to serve in either capacity as well. Captain Janeway would serve as mediator, and we would present our arguments daily to the tribunal." "Well thought out," the commodore said. "The Federation council has reviewed yesterday's exchange and Mister Keegan's case. His unique interpretation of the statutes is worthy of consideration. However, we have elected to prosecute him on the charge of mutiny instead." "My recommendation for the proceedings of the trial remain, sir, whatever the charge," Tuvok said. "I am confident of that, Mister Tuvok," the commodore said. "But the trial proceedings may prove difficult. We ask, therefore, that Mister Keegan accept the decision of a mediator instead." "No," Keegan said. "A trial presented in the manner Mister Tuvok has outlined could take months to complete," the commodore countered. "I'm not going anywhere," Keegan said. "You would rob your crewmates of their time with their families?" "I'll use my three minutes a month for the trial. After all, I don't have family." The commodore sighed. "We have chosen a Vulcan mediator." "Commendable," the lieutenant said, "But no. I want my trial." "No," Admiral Paris said, "I will not have a eugenic in Starfleet." "You mean another one?" Keegan said. "Julian Bashir has proven himself," Admiral Paris said. "So have I," Keegan replied. "But, that's not what I was talking about." The admiral shook his head. "You mean that nonsense about the Academy? I don't believe it." "I didn't think you would," Phil said, "But, that's not what I meant either. My people did not leave the world without progeny." Everyone, even Tuvok and Seven, reacted. "What?" Captain Janeway said. "Admiral," the lieutenant continued, "I believe your wife had an Olympic athlete in her family, a four time gold medalist in the triathlon. He lived in the mid twenty-first century." "You bastard," Tom said softly. "Scan yourself, Tom. Your scans don't lie." "My mother's great-grandfather was an ensign on the Reliant," Tom said. "I know," Phil replied. "I always thought that was a hell of a coincidence." The lieutenant commander, an intellectual looking woman, finally spoke. "Did that bother you, Lieutenant?" "Did what bother me?" Phil asked. "The incident aboard the Reliant," she replied. "It bothered me that I couldn't see it happen." "Really?" she said. "Why?" "Because I hated that fucker." "Khan?" she said. "Yes," he replied. "Why? Wasn't he the best of you?" "He was the best tactician," he told her. "So," she said, slowly, "Why did you hate him?" "Kirk knew him for a few days and hated him. I grew up with him. I hated him in ways none of you could ever imagine." She thought for a moment. "What did you call yourself? A batch ten eugenic? We have never heard of the different batches. How do we know that story is true?" Keegan chuckled. "And you were doing so well. Don't ask the obvious questions." "We are losing the connection," Seven said. "Starfleet will consider the new proposal," the commodore said. "Do you have anything else to say?" Admiral Paris asked. "Yes," Phil replied, "If it's any consolation, you're clean." After a moment of smoldering, the admiral said, "Starfleet out." The screen went blank. Janeway walked up to Keegan. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you feel the need to alienate every person around you?" "If I were accommodating, Captain, I would be dismissed by now. They may hate me, but they will give me my trial." "Yes," Tom said. "And call into question every human in Starfleet." "Score one for the pilot," Phil said. "Is it true?" Janeway said. "Yes," Phil answered. "Maybe eight percent of the population is so tainted." "Were any of the children yours?" she asked. "No. I never had children." "My piloting skills?" Tom said. "Natural talent," Phil replied. "The genes are so dilute, I doubt they affect you at all." "Look at that," he said. "I have family on board. Maybe I should name my daughter after you." Keegan smiled. "If you name your daughter Phyllis, B'Elanna will throttle you." Tom shook his head. "Well, I'm glad I could be here to help you." * * * STARDATE 48316.8: The Day of Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant Philip Keegan smeared gel from his eyes and opened them. Bright white attacked him. He winced, rolled onto his side and shoved himself onto one elbow. He lay naked on a metal floor in a large room with white walls. Behind him stood a glass cylinder, open and dripping the gel. Other cylinders lined the walls sized from one small enough for a cat to one that held a humped back whale. All the cylinders were occupied with the preserved remains of various species. Except the whale, he could recognize none of them. Phil pushed himself to his knees and staggered down again. The dizziness passed, and his strength began to return. He stood and fell. He stood again and fell against the wall. When the nausea stopped, he pushed himself off the wall and stood and waited and breathed until standing did not bother him. He walked along the wall until he reached a door. He found it locked. And the next. And along the long wall, door after door, until the third from the last opened. He found a shower that didn't use water in the room beyond, which he used, and a robe, which he put on. He saw a door on the other side of the room and walked to it. When he reached it, a man's voice spoke to him. "I'm sorry," the voice said. "I didn't want to hurt them. I'm glad I could let you live." The door opened to a curved corridor. Windows, widely set along one wall, showed him black space and stars and nothing else. He touched a window as if trying to touch the clean darkness of space itself. He turned down the corridor. After some minutes of walking, he saw a flash through the windows. He looked out and saw a vessel, grey and battered and shaped like an airplane. It flew past, followed by a much larger vessel. If the windows were any clue, the second vessel was the size of a battleship, and it moved with the speed and maneuverability of the best fighters he'd seen. In those windows, he thought he saw humans. The writing on the side of the ship read "U.S.S. Voyager". It had a long nose section and was shaped like an inverted spoon attached to a distorted cylinder. Two box shaped things hung off the cylinder on pylons. Philip Keegan thought it was the ugliest design for whatever it was he could imagine. A yellow-orange particle beam fired from Voyager's nose and struck the smaller craft. A force field around the smaller craft blocked the beam, and it flew out of sight. Voyager followed. Phil started to run along the corridor, stopped himself when more nausea hit, then walked at a fast pace until he reached a new door. The door opened to a room with more doors. The doors opened to rooms or corridors with more doors and rooms and so on until he heard voices. He opened that door and found many beings, mostly human, in a large room. All wore long white robes. "Did you find anything?" someone called out to him. "No," Phil said. Something else, masculine but not human, asked him a question. "Did you think that was going to get you anywhere?" it said angrily. "No," Phil replied, "But it gave me something to do." "I'll never understand humans," it said. The one who called out to him, a man who sounded familiar with command, spoke again. "What you understand doesn't matter." He turned to Phil. "You're sure you didn't find anything useful? A comm, a transporter, some equipment we could use? Do you know where we are?" "A space station. I found a corridor with windows." Phil considered for a moment. "I saw Voyager fly past." "That's something, at least." "I'm not going back with the Federation," the non-human said. "Fine. Stay here," the man said. "The rest of us want to go home." They started moving. Phil's story seemed to inspire them to action. He stayed in the back, listening to them, watching them. He could understand the non-humans, though he could tell they weren't speaking any language he knew. They were two factions, both of mixed species, one called Federation, one called Maquis, and they hated each other. Each group believed he was part of the other side, but they were too busy and resentful to compare notes. He could guess he had been in suspended animation. Centuries may have passed. He looked close at the humans, but they did not show any eugenic traits. Most displayed some physical training, but none of them could move the way he did. After an hour of wandering, a group of men and women in yellow and black uniforms found them. They carried rifles. One of the women in uniform tapped a badge on her chest. "Voyager, Munro here," she said. "We've found another group." "We have you," the badge said back. "Ready to beam you out." The people around Phil began to separate themselves into groups of six. They stood in circles an arm's length from the next in the group. Some of the Maquis faction protested, but their leaders shouted them to silence. Phil stepped into a random group, filling up a sixth spot. He watched as blue light and electricity swallowed one group, consuming them completely and fading to nothing. Then another group. Then two at a time. Then Phil felt static along his skin, heard a high pitched humming and smelled ozone. The world around him disappeared into liquid electricity. When it faded, he stood on a raised platform in a much darker room. The group he had traveled with rushed off the platform and he followed. More people in uniform guided him to a large room. It looked like storage and was set up like an evac unit. A man aimed a calculator at him, tapped it a couple of times, then tapped a panel above a small recess in the wall. Blue light filled the recess and became clothing. The man handed him the clothing and led him to a curtain to change. Phil put on a gold jumpsuit, a black shirt and black boots. They all fit perfectly, better than anything he'd ever worn. "What's your name?" something not human said to him when he stepped out. It had a face like a wild boar. "Philip Keegan," he said. "Phil, my name's Retut. Do you have any special skills?" "No," he said. "Good, then you're in maintenance. Come with me." Retut led him out of the room and down the hall. He walked into another room filled with debris that some people were working on. "Here," Retut said. "Help clean this up. Are you good with tools?" "No," Phil said, "But I learn quickly." "I'll get you some textbooks later." He walked out. Phil walked among people with blank eyes, bruised skin and torn uniforms. He followed their lead, never lifting more than the other humans. They worked for hours, in silence, the time broken by two meals and eventual success. When they finished, one of the women leaned against a wall and said, "The Delta Quadrant. I don't believe it." "That's the military for you," Phil said. "What?" she replied. "You know," he said and found only confusion. "It was just a joke." She sighed. "I know it was a joke. It was inappropriate. Random negative commentary won't help the situation. If you have a problem with command, tell them not us." "Sorry," he said, "I guess I was raised differently." They sat against the walls without speaking until Retut returned. "Good job," he said. "Go back to your rooms and get cleaned up. Get some sleep. We'll start on Cargo Room Two tomorrow," He turned to one of the workers. "How'd he do?" he said, pointing at Phil. "He didn't give us any trouble," the worker said. "Good." He looked at Phil. "Come with me. I've found you a room. The crew is below complement, so you get it all to yourself. It's a little out of shape, so you'll have to fix it up." "Hey, what's another couple of hours work?" he said. "Good attitude. You'll do well here." Retut took him through damaged corridors and down two levels, stopping at a door. "Here you go," he said. "The replicators on this deck are off-line, so try not to get hungry. See you tomorrow." The damage in the room surpassed expectations. Phil decided to leave it until later. It wasn't much worse than a college dorm in any case. It had a bed made from two cots, a couple of chairs, a bathroom, a shower, a recess in the wall he took to be the replicator and something like a desk with a screen above it. He sat down in front of the screen and looked around it. "How does this work?" he said. "Please restate question," the panel answered. Oh, of course. "Show me... show me any historical information you have on... Khan Noonian Singh." The screen displayed text: Khan Noonian Singh, considered foremost among the eugenics. Undisputed ruler of one fourth of the planet Earth at the height of his power. He escaped justice at the end of the Eugenics War by placing himself and eighty-three other eugenics in cryo-stasis aboard a DY-100 series planetary transport. He was eventually-- "Stop," Phil said. "Display a full historical record of the Eugenics War." As he read, he could hear Khan's voice and the voices of the other eugenics giving their orders. He read the background of the war, then an overview of the conflict, then the text displayed the details of the war. He stopped on one paragraph. He reread it four times. He fell against the desk reading it. He finally closed his eyes to it, crushing them shut, trying to force the words from his eidetic memory. "You bastard," he whispered. "Please restate request." "YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" he screamed and punched his fist through the panel. -- Constable Katie, ASC* Archive team Archive: www.trekiverse.org | trekiverse.crosswinds.net | qcontinuum.trekiverse.net Submissions: submissions trekiverse.org For archive updates: ASC-Archive-annc-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ASC* FAQs: http://trekiverse.crosswinds.net/FAQs/ ASC Stories-Only list: ascl-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCEM Stories-Only list: ascem-s-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! 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Yahoo! Companion Toolbar. Now with Pop-Up Blocker. Get it for free! http://us.click.yahoo.com/L5YrjA/eSIIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> On Mon, 05 Jul 2004 15:45:16 GMT, in alt.startrek.creative, "Khaliban" wrote: Lieutenant Keegan - The Trial by Khaliban A ST:Voyager story Part 2/12 PG-13 Summary: Is it a crime to be too good at your job? STARDATE 55222.97: Second Day of The Trial "Thank-you, Lieutenant Keegan," Commander Ponomarev said. "The prosecution may challenge the account," Admiral Chauhan said. "The prosecution is satisfied with Mister Keegan's description of how he arrived on Voyager. We have depositions from the crewmembers mentioned that support his statements." "So noted," the admiral said. "We will hear opening arguments." Philip Keegan stood and walked to the center of the room. "Three hundred years ago, I stood at the threshold of one of the darkest times in human history. A war, caused by my own people, devastated the planet. That devastation struck the world with a despair that lasted until Zephram Cochrane led mankind into space some seventy years later. The legacy of my superior race is sorrow and pain. I can understand, more than anyone in this room, why we are hated and feared. I cannot throw myself before the mercy of this court. I cannot beg your forgiveness, but I can offer my remorse. I can offer my penance. I committed no crime at the level of Khan, but I am all that is left to bear his guilt. I could be imprisoned or abandoned on a planet, and that may satisfy some, but I have chosen redemption. I will not be a victim of my own perfection. I will surrender my life and my destiny to the people of the Federation and to Starfleet. I ask to serve where Khan would demand to lead. My crimes, all of them, were committed to give me the chance to undo some of Khan's transgressions. I offer my guilt for a greater good, and I offer my service to Starfleet." When Keegan sat down, the prosecutor stood. Commander Simone Brown was a tall, attractive woman of about forty. She smiled before she spoke. "Redemption and remorse are wonderful goals, but those goals are what prison is for. No, Philip Keegan did not commit the acts attributed to Khan Noonian Singh. No, he was not a part of the Eugenics War. No, he did not harm the people of the Enterprise or the Reliant or Regula One. And he is not charged with those offenses. He is charged with lying to his superior officers on multiple occasions for personal gain. He is charged with mutiny in taking control of the starship Voyager, a crime if his time in control of Voyager were two years or only two hours. He is charged with insubordination and he is charged with violating a developing sentient, the ship's doctor, for his own purposes. And, he committed these acts out of arrogance. He knew if he were exposed, he would be removed from his position. He decided to supersede the regulations of Starfleet, an organization he promises to serve, and he placed his own ideals above the clear dictates of the founders of Federation law. The Federation and Starfleet were built upon the ideal that the greater good is the few suffering for the many. No one who places himself above that ideal should be a Starfleet officer." Commander Brown returned to her seat. "Thank-you," the Vulcan admiral said. "We will have a short recess while we consider your statements, then the defense may call its first witness." Keegan stood. "With all due respect, Admiral, my witness list is incomplete. Four of my key witnesses have yet to return to Earth or make sub-space contact." "Which witnesses are those?" Admiral T'Lara asked. "Commander Data, Commander Julian Bashir, Captain Montgomery Scott and Ambassador Spock. In particular, records show Doctor Bashir was sent on a mission to the Gamma Quadrant the day after I filed my formal request for a hearing. He has not yet returned." Admiral Chauhan scowled at the prosecutor. "I will see to it personally that Doctor Bashir return. You understand, however, that recalling Ambassador Spock will be much more difficult. I hope he is not vital to your case." "I hope that as well," Keegan said. "Do you have other witnesses prepared?" Admiral Chauhan asked. "Yes, sir, I do." "Then we will hear from them. This court is in recess for fifteen minutes." * * * STARDATE 54691.55: Six Months Before The Trial "Hello, Mister Eugenic," Neelix said, holding out a plate of food. "Don't call me that," Keegan replied. "I call Mister Tuvok 'Mister Vulcan'," he said. Keegan looked at the guards. "There's a difference. You need to ask someone about it." Neelix put the plate down on Keegan's cot. "I'll do that," he said. "That's enough, Neelix," one of the guards said. "Yes, Ma'am. Lieutenant, I'll see you at lunch." Phil finished the meal thinking Neelix should stop trying to cheer him up by experimenting with the food. He set the plate down, expecting a long day of waiting, when Captain Janeway walked in. "Stand outside," she told the guards. "You're getting what you want," she said when they were gone. He didn't react. She continued, "Starfleet will not conduct a trial with the prosecutor, the defense and the accused sixty thousand lightyears from the court. You will be granted a temporary reprieve. Upon our return to the Alpha Quadrant, the charges will be re-filed. Until then, you will retain your current rank of lieutenant, junior grade." "Thank-you, Captain." "Do you really think you fooled anyone?" she asked. "I didn't need to fool them, so long as I got that result." "So you get to wear that uniform for how long? Fifty years if things go poorly. You could retire with honor." He shrugged. "I won't retire in fifty years." "And why is that?" "I have a three hundred year lifespan." "What?" she said. "Why?" "Something my grandfather wanted. The genetic engineers implemented life extension in the eighth batch. One hundred and fifty years for them, and two hundred for the ninth." She shook her head. "Why didn't they build an eleventh batch?" "They planned on it. They were going to wait ten years from the end of my batch to see how the first group did." "What happened?" she asked. His eyes drifted off. "Something bad," he said. "Well," she said, "I'm afraid you'll have to stay in the brig a little longer. The crew is not happy with you, or some of the information you provided." Fifty-eight papers credited to a respected scientist of the late twenty-first century were proven to be identical in style to the Unclaimed Thesis and the three "Anonymous Einsteins" Keegan took for his own. Two of the Einstein papers were published before the scientist was born. "I read his autobiography when I was at the Academy," she told him. "I remember think his writing style was so different in his papers. I thought it was a part of genius, the mind shifting from one mode to another like a split personality." She sighed. "How many others are you going to reveal?" "All of them. My people deserve recognition for their benefits to mankind as much for their crimes against them. I would provide this information whatever the outcome of the trial. It is not a threat to secure a beneficial verdict." She examined the ground for inspiration. "Protocol whitewash; it did its job, I'll say that. We can't find any of your commands left in the computer. Why did you install those commands anyway? When did you think it would be necessary for a good Starfleet officer to gain complete control of the ship?" "A few years ago," he said, "After a bad experience with a girlfriend." "Are you joking?" "No, oddly enough. I knew I would be discovered at some point. I had to show you I wasn't Khan. I think it worked. You didn't shoot me, after all." "You didn't give me the chance." He laughed. "I guess we did things differently in my day than in yours. A show of power is not as well received now." "No," she said, "But we still understand violence. Thirty people have asked the Doctor to scan their DNA to make sure they are free of contamination. Many others fear to see you expose a beloved ancestor. They want you to shut up, and they are being very vocal about it." "'The Federation has a responsibility to the truth.' I am done with lying and silence," he said. "'Confession is good for the soul?'" she asked. "Yes," he said, smiling. "I need as much good in my soul as I can get. The people of the Federation and the families of those thieves will adapt. My people will be as hated as they are now, but they will be hated with a greater accuracy." Kathryn Janeway leaned against the door frame of the cell and flicked the defensive shield. Her finger numbed from the contact. "Could you get us home?" she asked. "They're demanding that too, aren't they? No," he said. "It's much easier hiding in the Alpha Quadrant. If I could get us home, I would have done so by now." "The fact that this helps you--" "Means nothing," he replied. "I avail myself of my environment, much as you do." "Speaking of which, I am going to double your guard: two to watch you and two to protect you. I am afraid you will be in this cell until the crew forgives you." "You could tell them I'm a better cook than Neelix." She laughed. "For god's sake, Phil, I'm a better cook than Neelix." She went to the door and ordered the guards to return to their post. Walking away, she thought, Finally got the last word in. Some hours later, Neelix returned with lunch. He held the tray out with shaking hands and wouldn't put it down until Keegan walked to the opposite side of the cell. "No desert, Neelix?" Phil asked. Neelix jumped back. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'll... I'll... I mean--" "I was kidding, Neelix. I'm on a diet, remember?" "Yes, Mist-- Lieutenant. Enjoy the meal." He walked out quickly. "Ahh," Keegan said to the guards, "Deep fried something. My favorite." * * * STARDATE 48404.9: One Month after Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant "No, Phil, stay," Crewman Denise Reed said. "It was just getting interesting." "We're replacing eight damaged struts tomorrow," Crewman Keegan replied. "I want to be ready for it." Denise looked to the other people at the table for help. Three faces returned sympathy to her. "You probably had it memorized a week ago. Do you know how hard it is to find someone who's actually read Renaissance poetry that wasn't a Shakespearean sonnet? At least talk to me about Mary Wroth. Just for a minute? Please?" "I'm very sorry, Denise, but I have a lot of reading to do. You don't want me to drop a strut on your head do you?" He shrugged innocently and walked out. "I'd like to drop a strut on his damn head." She turned to the others. "I was being obvious, wasn't I?" "I've never seen you more obvious," one of them said. "Thank-you. What is wrong with him?" "I think he's insane," another one, Ensign Suder, said. "And thank-you." "No, I think he's genuinely insane. You'll excuse me, please." The betazoid stood and followed Keegan. He ran to catch up and called out when he saw Phil. "Ensign Suder, how may I help you?" "Crewman, you have a very strange way of thinking," Suder began. "Is this about Denise?" "No. You have an almost Vulcan mind. You think about a tremendous amount of material simultaneously. It's very detailed, very complicated. It's a mind I envy. But, there have been flashes I've noticed a few times. Do you believe you're a eugenic?" "What?" Suder stepped back. "Wow. I've never found a mental shield that strong in a human before. Where did you learn how to do that?" "I had an unusual upbringing," Phil said carefully. "If you keep something like that up too long, you'll give yourself a headache," Suder said. Phil nodded. "Yes, I'll keep that in mind." "About the eugenics..." Phil answered slowly. "I thought, if I were a eugenic, I could get us home. I guess my fantasy got a little strong." "Yes," Suder said, "I thought it was something like that. Everyone is having trouble dealing with the situation. I know I've had my problems, but we don't need one of those psychotics to get us home. We'll get there on our own. The holodeck can run a good psych program for you. Just talk it out." "Thank-you, sir. I will do that. Excuse me please." Phil's long legs carried him to his room at almost a run. Too excited to sit, he called out to the computer while pacing between the screen and the bathroom door. "Computer, I need any available background material on Ensign Lon Suder." He stopped long enough to read. "What the hell is a betazoid?" He read again. "Are you shitting me? Those nutcases were right? Holy fuck." He continued to pace. "Computer, are there any plans for telepathic shields in the database?" "Nineteen such devices are on record." "Display them." Swallowing a page at a time, he considered and discarded most of the designs. Finally, he tapped the screen, highlighting one device in particular. "I need complete instructions on how to implant this shield," he said. "Warning, all telepathic shield designs are currently experimental. Use of a telepathic shield is not recommended by Starfleet." "Duly noted. Display the requested information." Six hours later, three versions of Philip Keegan sat in holodeck two perpendicular to each other as if at the corners of a square. As the living Keegan in the center moved, the holographic Keegans in front of him and to his right mimicked his actions. He lifted a laser scalpel and cut the skin above the ear of the hologram in front of him and felt the warmth and pressure of the cut above his own ear. He peeled back a flap of skin, an odd sensation if there was one, and inserted a universal translator. He planned to implant a translator soon anyway. He attached the device to his skull, fusing it in place with a skeletal regenerator. A thin wire slid out of the translator and dug through his soft tissue until it contacted his auditory nerve. It eased into place, and he heard a crackle. His tricorder indicated the translator was functional. He inserted a small tube into an opening in the translator. Nanobots crawled through the tube and out a series of holes at the base of the device. When a nanobot encountered his skull, it shoved its legs into the bone and locked itself into place. A new nanobot would crawl over the old, lock itself into place, and connect itself, nose to tail, with the first bot. Millions of nanobots, in twenty different streams, moved out over his skull, split into new streams, and continued. Soon, a fine web of nanobots covered his skull. He removed the tube and replaced it with an optional power upgrade. It would provide energy to the added circuitry in the translator. When the power source slid into place, Phil felt first a disorientation, then nausea, then mild pain, a headache, more nausea, and finally a fuzziness he knew would never go away. He would adapt to it. He picked up a tissue regenerator and sealed the seam in his scalp. "Computer," he said, "End program. Delete it from memory." He picked up his supplies and walk out. * * * STARDATE 48538.35: Three Months after Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant "Why, Phil?" Denise said. "I think I can do a better job in security." She was pouting. "I like working with you, Phil. I don't want to see you go." "It's not like I'm transferring to another ship," he said softly, keeping it light. "How did Retut react?" "He offered me deck nine." "Oh," she said. "I don't want you to be my supervisor." She leaned close. "I like to be on top." "I'm not surprised. You'll excuse me. I need to report to Tuvok." He heard, "Damn it," as he walked away. The interview with Tuvok took more than an hour. The Vulcan asked him questions about his background, his combat experience and his training. "Why are your records incomplete?" Tuvok asked. "I was a late addition. My records were never transferred." "Yes, I have found that problem with some other crewmembers. I am not pleased to take an individual into security on such limited information, but I am understaffed in a hostile environment. You understand, you will be watched more closely because of this?" "Yes, sir." "You said you have studied martial arts. Who taught you?" "My parents. They were tournament martial artists." "Which tournaments?" Phil listed some. He had prepared an elaborate background, more material than he thought he'd need. He was almost out of information. The trick, he found, was describing his training without providing a source or location. He tried to keep the outright lies to a minimum. And, so far, Tuvok had not asked him if he were Federation or Maquis. Keegan knew from other crewmembers that Tuvok did not know all the Maquis. Chakotay kept many of his people isolated from each other, a protection against infiltrators. The Maquis had arrived in the Delta Quadrant in two ships. Tuvok was not familiar with most of the Maquis from the second ship. "Did they place well?" "No. They never made it past the second or third round. They were excellent teachers, though." "How did you enter into your unusual occupation?" the Vulcan asked, presumably meaning the Maquis. "Through an absurd series of accidents and coincidence. I was happily a university student until fate grabbed me." Tuvok watched him silently. He never used a PADD during the interview and never read from his terminal. "Do you fear I will judge you for what you have done?" he said. "No, I am more than enough judge for what I have done. I don't need any help." "How do you judge yourself here?" Phil looked around the room as if watching the whole ship. "Voyager is a chance for redemption." "I understand," Tuvok said. "One more thing. I can normally detect a human at this distance. Are you using a telepathic shield?" the Vulcan asked. "Yes, sir," Phil said without hesitation. "Why?" "There are parts of my life I would like to forget. I don't want anyone accidentally reminding me of them." "That does not seem to be sufficient justification, considering the time and effort of the implantation and the mental training required to make it effective." Phil sighed. "The implantation took very little time, and my parents provided me with mental discipline as part of their training. Adapting that training to the telepathic shield was not difficult." Tuvok nodded to Phil. "Very well," he said. "If this personal training of yours does not interfere with your duties, I will not pursue the issue. Perhaps I will find some tactical use for it." He finally picked up a PADD and read from it. "I am in the second week of training a new team. Do you believe you can catch up to them?" "Yes, sir." "Good. Tomorrow, you will wear your workout uniform and go to holodeck three at oh-five-hundred." "Yes, sir." "Dismissed." * * * STARDATE 55223.05: Second Day of The Trial "How would you rate my performance, Commander Tuvok?" Keegan said. He stood in the middle of the room, facing the witness chair. "My evaluations of you ranged from above average to excellent," Tuvok replied. "Did I ever give you a reason to doubt my loyalty?" "No." "Did the presence of my telepathic shield cause you any concern?" Tuvok considered the question. "I remained curious about your decision to use the shield, but I did not feel it merited investigation." "How long did you consider me for field promotion?" "Three months," Tuvok answered. "Did you ever doubt your decision?" "Vulcans do not doubt. We review all factors logically." Keegan smiled. "What did your logic tell you?" "Your leadership skills were undeveloped, but your intellect and adaptability compensated. You exhibited superior physical and mental training, and you showed a strength of will often praised by other humans." "Where did this lead you?" "That you would make an acceptable officer, by human standards." Keegan turned to a display screen. "Computer, show defense exhibit four." Text appeared on the screen. "Commander Tuvok, would you identify that text for us?" "Those are the results of the Academy tests I administered prior to recommending you for field promotion." "Would you identify the highlighted area?" "Those are the results of the psychological exam." "Describe them, please." "The test indicated an unusual, possibly traumatic childhood. You showed a measure of arrogance and instability resulting from that upbringing and from your own perceived superiority. On occasion, you manifested a paranoid delusion." "What delusion was that?" "That the entire crew of Voyager was out to get you." Keegan smiled again. "Then why did you suggest me for promotion?" "Many members of the crew developed emotional difficulties during this time period. I found that you were able to deal with these difficulties more effectively than most of the other humans. I also found that you responded well to a challenge. I believed the increased responsibility would ultimately help you with these emotional problems." "In your opinion, do you believe you were correct? Has my rank and responsibility improved my emotional stability?" "For a human, yes." Keegan turned toward the admirals, and then the prosecutor, his face stoic. "Computer, screen off," he said. "Mister Tuvok, are you stronger than me?" "No," the Vulcan said, "Your mass affords you a benefit." Keegan began to pace slowly. "Are you faster than me?" "Yes." "And what about endurance?" "Comparable," Tuvok said. "Are you smarter than me?" "Overall intellect, no, but I have superior tactical knowledge." "Yes," Keegan said, "You do. Could you take me in a fight?" "Yes," Tuvok replied. "But I defeated you in the shuttle bay." "You had superior tactical information and the element of surprise." "Did losing to me bother you?" "That is an emotion," Tuvok said. "Do you fear me? Or, whatever Vulcans call it." "No." "Do you believe I pose a threat to the Federation?" "That would depend on the type of threat." "What would you have done," Keegan continued, "If I had told you what I was at that first interview?" "Informed the captain and reprimanded you for placing false information in the computer." "Thank-you, Mister Tuvok," Keegan said. "No further questions." "Mister Tuvok," Commander Brown said, "Philip Keegan fooled you for seven years. How was that accomplished?" "Voyager was in a constant state of alertness. We were under attack from many alien species. I needed to trust the crew around me and to rely on them in order to insure Voyager's survival. I did not have the luxury to consider an inside threat, and we had no evidence that the Caretaker had acquired anyone other than Voyager and the Maquis." The commander tapped her fingers. "And, did you change your policy when Seska was exposed?" "Yes," Tuvok said. "I reviewed the records of all Maquis personnel." "And how did Mister Keegan's limited background appear to you?" "He was not listed as Maquis. I considered it an error. In the end, I decided his incomplete records indicated he was not an infiltrator. Such an agent, like myself, would have a plausible history. However, I decided to review his record aboard Voyager and extend his probationary period." "Did you tell him this?" Brown asked. "Yes. He accepted my decision. He served with distinction during the probation, risking his own life three times in the course of his duties. At the end of the allotted period, I removed him from probation." "None of this caused you any concern?" Tuvok's expression drifted from annoyance to slightly more annoyance. "All of this caused me concern, Commander. However, I needed more than irritation or suspicion to pursue Mister Keegan's inconsistencies. My duty was to protect Voyager and her crew. As a security officer, Mister Keegan defended with the same dedication I expected from any other Starfleet officer. I knew he possessed an imperfect past, as did many crewmembers aboard Voyager. Captain Janeway specifically ordered me to ignore those crimes. She knew we could not create a unified crew if we began to prosecute one third of the people on board. I believed Mister Keegan was a part of that group, that he had committed a crime in the Alpha Quadrant that the Federation deemed unforgivable, but, when the subject was discussed, he claimed he sought redemption. I chose to judge him on his actions in the Delta Quadrant and not on his assumed former indiscretions. The Maquis were renegades and terrorists, but they did their jobs with passion and skill. They also responded well to loyalty and respect. I chose this path with Mister Keegan and found my decision rewarded. I knew he hid a crime, but, by my own logic and my captain's orders, I ignored it. In return, Voyager gained a capable officer. I considered the results satisfactory." "Would you serve with him again?" she asked, her voice calm. "I must reevaluate Mister Keegan as an officer," he said, looking at Phil. "However, I have not ruled out the possibility." "And when you reevaluated him for the computer core, what then? Did his lack of a history disturb you?" "No, Commander, it did not. By then, I felt I knew Mister Keegan. As I said, I believed he had proven himself to me." "And now, do you regret your decision?" Tuvok looked again at Phil. "No. During his time as Head of the Computer Core, he served Voyager well." Commander Brown sat back in her chair and crossed her fingers. "Thank-you, Mister Tuvok. I have no further questions." "Mister Keegan, you may call your next witness," Admiral T'Lara said. -- Constable Katie, ASC* Archive team Archive: www.trekiverse.org | trekiverse.crosswinds.net | qcontinuum.trekiverse.net Submissions: submissions trekiverse.org For archive updates: ASC-Archive-annc-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ASC* FAQs: http://trekiverse.crosswinds.net/FAQs/ ASC Stories-Only list: ascl-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCEM Stories-Only list: ascem-s-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! 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Fri Jul 09 22:41:22 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n31.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.99]) by quail (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bIXCO7yU3NZFkZ1 for ; Fri, 9 Jul 2004 08:49:22 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13809-1089388098-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com eceived: from [66.218.66.31] by n31.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 09 Jul 2004 15:48:19 -0000 X-Sender: asc-l@ix.netcom.com X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 28355 invoked from network); 9 Jul 2004 15:48:16 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.218) by m25.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:16 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.123) by mta3.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:16 -0000 Received: from h-66-167-46-192.phlapafg.dynamic.covad.net ([66.167.46.192] helo=localhost) by swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net with esmtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1BixbV-0006Rx-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Fri, 09 Jul 2004 08:48:01 -0700 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Trekiverse Message-ID: X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.9/32.560 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.123 From: ASC* Archive Team MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Fri, 09 Jul 2004 11:47:24 -0400 Subject: [ASC] NEW VOY 'Lieutenant Keegan, Part 2, the Trial' PG-13 3/12 Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ELNK-AV: 0 Yahoo! Domains - Claim yours for only $14.70 http://us.click.yahoo.com/Z1wmxD/DREIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> On Mon, 05 Jul 2004 15:46:10 GMT, in alt.startrek.creative, "Khaliban" wrote: Lieutenant Keegan - The Trial by Khaliban A ST:Voyager story Part 3/12 PG-13 Summary: Is it a crime to be too good at your job? STARDATE -335263.66: April 6, 1988 From an eighth story window, Phil watched as the governor cut a red ribbon at the entrance to the plant. The crowd around the governor cheered. The sound was a distant, happy squeal to Phil. "Imagine if they knew, Philip," a soft voice said. "I was." "Ah," Khan said, "I see my favorite scientist looks fondly on them. I am pleased. I think it will help to understand them." "And control them." "Yes, Philip. We must remember that. We are given the opportunity to help where no other could. We can guide with passion and intellect and wisdom. Has any leader in history offered so much? We will give them a thousand Solomons. Today they have free energy. Tomorrow, their freedom will grow. We have that responsibility." "My responsibility today is to the reactor." "And tomorrow, to the DY-fifty. How does that go?" Khan sat down and motioned Keegan to a chair. "Rodriguez didn't tell you? We can't compress the fusion reactor enough to fit the frame. We're going to scrap the fifty design and upgrade to the heavier seventy." "And if it used a fission reactor?" Khan asked. "It could shuttle you earth to moon. We can also use it to test the launch vehicle." "Excellent. How long before we can take mankind to Mars?" "The seventy will be ready by ninety-one. The ion drive will get you to Mars in about a month." "And by then," he said with a smile, "You will be just beginning your doctorate. Does that satisfy you?" "I did not feel the need to earn a doctorate before I was fifteen." Khan placed a hand on Keegan's shoulder and sighed. "Philip, will I ever regain your love?" "I'm sure, if you really needed it, you could get it from me." Khan laughed, but his eyes surveyed Keegan. "Philip, you have always had the best sense of humor among us. I hope you never lose it. Come with me," he said, standing. "Let me introduce you to the governor. Let him know a fifteen year old boy helped design the first fusion reactor. It will help prepare them for us." "No," Phil replied. "I like my anonymity. Let me keep it until I graduate." "Agreed," Khan said, embracing the word. "Let us rescue humanity from within the shadows today. But tell me what you want. Let me give you a gift." "Send me to Mars," Keegan said without pause. "Let me be among the first to walk there." "And will you love me if I do?" "I just might." * * * STARDATE 48576.14: Two Weeks into Training "Crewman Keegan?" Tuvok said, "Do I have your attention?" "Yes, sir. I'm sorry. This is the first time I've been off Voyager since the Caretaker Array." In time, he would be as familiar with it as those around him, but, right now, he enjoyed walking on his first new planet. "Yes," Tuvok said, "All of us have been in need of shore leave. You will be allowed to join the rest of Voyager's crew when our training is done. Follow me." Today was the first day Tuvok himself had trained the team. When the others in Keegan's group talked about it, they smiled wickedly as if they felt they would return to the ship beaten and bruised and twice as skilled as they were now. Phil nodded and repeated what they were saying. He spent most of his week learning security protocols and weapon systems. He had little time to learn much about the Chief of Security. "Are you Federation or Maquis?" In Maintenance, people had asked him that every other week. His response was, "Neither. I'm a member of Voyager's crew. I like to remember that." And that worked. "Good attitude," they would respond. Many even took up the mantra. Until one day, someone said, "No, seriously, Federation or Maquis? It's not like it matters." And he replied, "I'll tell you later," and put in for a transfer. But, security had not been a random choice. Tuvok walked them to an area of huge boulders. He took them to a relatively flat rise where several boulders met. He ordered the group into a half circle. "Mister Keegan," he said, "You tell me you've had some training. Show me." "Watch out," a team member whispered, "He's Vulcan." He said it as if Phil knew what that meant. He had read the background of them. They were strong. They lived two hundred years. They embraced logic the way humans embraced passion. They were respected. But, if he asked a question, he only got one answer, "He's Vulcan." Is he tough? Is he hard on you? Is he good at his job? How does he treat you? What's he like? "He's Vulcan." "Mister Keegan," he said, "Attack me." Phil dropped to a stance and punched out. Tuvok caught his arm and twisted him to the ground. "Well done, Mister Keegan," Tuvok said, "If you would--" Keegan curled up on the ground and kicked backward, catching Tuvok in the chest and knocking him back. The Vulcan rolled with the impact and came up in a guard. Keegan kicked out, a feint, and struck with his fist. Tuvok blocked his arm and hit Keegan in the back, knocking him to one knee. Phil fell smoothly into a sweep. Tuvok rolled over it and they stood as one. "I am pleased, Mister Keegan," Tuvok said. Half the group gasped. Phil smiled, in a way he hadn't in years, back when he could enjoy something. Tuvok appeared to acknowledge the smile as an incidental quirk in his opponent. Phil scoured Tuvok's face for a reaction; pain, joy, fear, hate, surprise, excitement, disdain, boredom, anything really. Does he like his job? He's Vulcan. I get that now, he thought. He attacked. The new attack differed from the old. Phil was no longer surprised. He knew Tuvok surpassed his speed. He had no reason to hold back with that. He limited his strength. He knew Tuvok could match it well enough, but the Vulcan would notice the difference. As for skill, Tuvok appeared to have had some training. Tuvok punched twice, both feints, and swung at Keegan with his elbow. Phil dodged and punched in one move. Someone in the group whistled. Tuvok took the blow and struck. More punches followed, half feint, half real, shifting as opportunity required. Phil blocked and struck as he could, but he had no chance. He was losing, with or without his strength. And he was smiling. With each bruise, his smile deepened. When Tuvok kicked him in the chest and knocked him into one of the other trainees, Phil laughed, though it sounded like a cry of pain. "Are either of you injured?" Tuvok said. "No, sir," both replied. "Good. You have seen Crewman Keegan make use of the terrain. Learn from this. Make your environment your ally. That must be stressed. Crewman Simms, step forward." * * * STARDATE -335264: April 6, 1988 "Khan said you wanted to talk to me?" Keegan said to Zi Lin. Lin walked to a table, stepping away from a naked man strapped to a chair. Fine cuts and precise bruises covered the man's skin. "I've gotten what information he has. Now I need him to take back a message." Keegan examined the man and the tears creeping down his face. "Industrial or oil company?" he asked. "Oil. Were you as amused by the lobbyists as I?" "I found their expressions memorable." Eugenics held two-thirds of the congressional seats. Established companies found their attempts to stop the fusion reactor surprisingly unsuccessful. "I need a device from you," Lin said. "A plastic with the density of human flesh. Make the trigger look like a pacemaker. I need it by tomorrow morning." "What parts will you remove?" Phil said, examining the man's chest and stomach. "I have a list there." Lin pointed to a sheet on the table. "What radius are we talking about?" "A refinery," Lin said. "It needs to be rubble." "That can be done," Keegan said, "But he needs to stand in the right spot." "I'll keep that in mind." Lin picked up a knife. "Was there something you wanted to ask?" Phil finally turned away from the man in the chair. "Have you finalized a design for the launch vehicle?" "No, McPherson is still reviewing them. Why?" "I guess I'm anxious to get into space." Lin chuckled. "Don't worry, Philip. We'll get there. If you'll excuse me, I have more work to do." * * * STARDATE 48762.89: Six Months After Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant The Kazon warrior swung his weapon toward the noise. Crewman Keegan caught his arm from behind and knocked the weapon from the warrior's hand. The Kazon turned and struck Keegan across the jaw. Phil smiled, trying not to laugh. A human jaw might have been broken. Keegan punched the Kazon in the chest with the heel of his hand, knocking the warrior into a bulkhead. The warrior drew a knife and attacked. Phil snapped the wrist that held the knife and shoved the warrior into the bulkhead by the neck. In the Kazon's eyes he saw fear? No. Anger? No. Exhilaration? No. Disappointment. He knew Phil was toying with him. He wasn't happy. Phil was defending his ship. He should do his duty. Keegan took the Kazon by the head and twisted. Another warrior heard the snap and ran to it. He charged Phil. Keegan took hold of him and shoved the warrior down hard, breaking the Kazon's back over his knee. A third warrior screamed a charge, and Phil put a knife in his neck. He picked up his rifle and stood over what he had done. "Phil?" a woman said behind him. "What happened here?" "It must have been one of the Vulcans." "Glad they're on our side," Munro said. "They need us a deck down." "Right," Phil said. "Right, let's go." * * * "A transfer, Crewman? Why would you request that?" "I killed during the last attack. I didn't find it to my liking. I would like to transfer to science or engineering, sir." Tuvok crossed his fingers. "You cannot transfer until your probationary period has ended. Neither science nor engineering will take you unless you have a degree. Do you?" "No, sir. I was unable to complete my degrees. However, I have pursued my education." "If you want an academic degree, I can test you for those. You understand, though, they would be the equivalent of a university degree not a Starfleet degree. It would not count towards your credits should you apply to the Academy." "I am currently not in a situation where I could apply to the Academy, sir." Tuvok's eyes drifted around his desk. "That is a very interesting point, Mister Keegan. Do you wish me to provide Academy tests as well?" "No, sir, that's not what I meant. I didn't mean to be that much trouble. The academic tests are more than enough." "I am aware of what you meant, Crewman. We do not have the opportunity to allow members of the crew access to the Academy; however, many of you may be Starfleet potential. I do not wish to see your abilities wasted, Mister Keegan. If you can prove yourself in your academic tests, I will recommend you for a field commission. It would require additional tests, but I am an authorized Starfleet instructor. The Academy would accept any results. The captain must approve all of this, of course. Are you interested in making the attempt?" Keegan stared at the top of the desk. "A Starfleet officer?" "Yes, Mister Keegan, does that interest you?" "What? Uh...yes. Yes, Mister Tuvok, it interests me a great deal." "Very good. How close were you to your degree?" He took a breath. "A semester away from degrees in physics and mathematics." "At what level?" "Doctorate, sir." "Very good. Two doctorates are the minimum requirement for graduation from the Academy." "Really? Oh." "Is something wrong, Crewman?" Tuvok asked. "No, sir. Nothing at all. Can I complete the academic requirements while I am under my probation?" "Yes, only the Starfleet tests require the probation to be ended. When would you like to begin?" "As soon as possible, sir. I've spent my free time continuing my education. I feel ready for the tests now." Tuvok tapped his terminal. "I will set up a schedule. We will begin the tests in two weeks. If there is nothing else, you are dismissed." "Yes, sir. And, thank-you, sir." * * * STARDATE -335280.39: April 12, 1988 "Well done, Philip," Khan said. He smiled at the news report. "Zi was very impressed with your design." "I'm certain he was." Khan tsked. "Philip, that man was here to sabotage the reactor. It might have gone critical. Imagine what would have happened. You may have saved many, many lives. Aren't you pleased?" "Pleasure is not a burden I will bear. Or remorse, if you were wondering." He turned off the screen. "Philip, it is a war. And war means death. They began the conflict. We respond to it." "No different than Oppenheimer, Khan? And no happier." "That was hardly Hiroshima," Khan laughed. "We offer them order, and they will have it." Keegan sat in a chair and stared at the inside of his mind. "We never knew the pains of birth. Are we inflicting those pains on others?" Khan sighed and watched out the window at the looming reactor. "The tiger would not weep if you were burning." "And who would?" * * * STARDATE 49438.18: Fourteen Months After Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant "It's a dangerous business, Phil," Munro said. "Tuvok said much the same." She reached across the table and took his hand. "We need you in security." "That too." "I want to sleep with you. Did he say that?" "No," Phil said, "That was absent." She squeezed his hand. "Scientists have designed weapons that worked and defenses that failed. Starfleet is dangerous. You can't hide from that." "I don't need to look at it quite that closely." "You hardly knew him. What's this really about?" "It reminded me of something that hurts a lot." Phil took his hand away. "Did anyone ever tell you that?" "Yes," she said, standing. "Right before they transfer. And, what about my offer, Phil?" "You're a bit callous, aren't you?" "The hell I am. You knew how I felt months ago. You can't run from life in the face of death." "I think no good will come of the bed-hopping among the crew. It's a bad way to deal with the stress." "That's a lousy lie, Phil, even for you." "I had a bad experience a few years ago. I hurt a woman badly." "I don't believe it." "Am I hurting you now?" he asked. "Oh, shut up. Fine. Best of luck, Phil." * * * "Physics and mathematics, huh?" Lieutenant Nirrip said. "We can use that. First, I'll need you to review all our current experiments. Run simulations on them and compare them to our results. Got all that?" "Yes, sir." "Get through them as quickly as you can and write a report on each. Let me introduce you to everyone in the department, and they will tell you which test they want checked." The Bolian Chief Science Officer smiled and led Keegan to a woman examining a cloud chamber. "This is Lieutenant Leslie Willis. She's our resident multitasker. Ask her anything." "Ensign, have a seat," Willis said. "Off the top of your head, what can you tell me about this experiment?" In the next three weeks, Keegan reviewed fifteen experiments and corrected two. He was praised for his attention to detail. In the next month, he analyzed twenty ongoing experiments. He corrected or improved eight. In the next two months, he assisted in the design of seventeen experiments. He suggested more efficient techniques for nine. He corrected four theories and dismissed one, with kindness. In the following month, they provided him with theories or experiments and gave him free reign to design simulations. The original theorists then rechecked his results. In the next month, they stopped rechecking his results. They began asking his advice. They asked him to review their theories in the planning stage. All the while, he sat in his corner, programming his simulations, never suggesting an idea of his own, never adding his name to any paper. And never, ever showing them his own writing. One day, Nirrip walked up to him and said, "Phil, how are you with biology?" People in earshot laughed. "I can hold my own." More people laughed. "The captain has given us a new microbe to analyze. I want you to do the work." "Are you sure I'm ready, sir?" Still more laughter. None of them noticed him sweat. "Long overdue," Nirrip said. "Show me your best, wunderkind." His second day working on the microbe, as he thought of new ways of dragging the experiment out, the Kazon took control of Voyager. Nirrip died during the fight. Ensign Suder died when they retook the ship. The most unfortunate good luck Phil might have imagined. He could tell Leslie Willis that Nirrip helped him with the work. With a careful manipulation, he could write the paper in Nirrip's style. It delayed the inevitable. He needed to do something genuinely wrong soon. After the cleanup of the ship, he walked into the main science lab with his story ready. The entire department met him and smiled at him. "Leslie?" Phil said. "I have some good news, Phil." The petite blond woman motioned him over. "Good news? Nirrip is dead." Shock? Fear? Anger? What emotion should he affect? "Bolians don't mourn. It would be disrespectful. He would want something right to come of this." Right? What the hell did she mean by right? "Chakotay spoke with me." Oh, shit. Shit, merde, hovno, bok. "Leslie, could I speak with you?" "Anything you want." "In private, Leslie." "Certainly, Phil." She shrugged at the others, and she and Keegan walked to another room. "Phil--" "I want a transfer." "What?! Are you out of your mind?" "Yes." "Oh. It was a joke." She shook her head. "No, it wasn't. I can't handle this job anymore." After several seconds, she said, "Chakotay needs a new head of the department." "Congratulations." "No, Phil--" "I want a transfer to Engineering. They need the help." "Yes, and so do we." "You were doing fine without me. You're perfect to head the department." She watched him, mouth open. "Phil, we just took a vote--" "Congratulations, again." "Why the hell are you doing this?" He took a short breath and let it out slowly. "I can't stand the sight of death." "I understand you liked Nirrip, but we have an obligation. We have a duty to the ship. I don't give a damn if you're afraid of death. When you put on that uniform, you took that oath." "You are required to submit my request to Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Torres. If they refuse--" "If?" she screamed, swinging her arm toward Engineering. "Do you know how many people Torres--?" She groaned at the words. "Fine. I'll submit your damn request. Are you happy?" "As happy as I can be." -- Constable Katie, ASC* Archive team Archive: www.trekiverse.org | trekiverse.crosswinds.net | qcontinuum.trekiverse.net Submissions: submissions trekiverse.org For archive updates: ASC-Archive-annc-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ASC* FAQs: http://trekiverse.crosswinds.net/FAQs/ ASC Stories-Only list: ascl-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCEM Stories-Only list: ascem-s-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Fri Jul 09 22:41:22 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n44.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.67.19]) by sparrow (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bIXBR79t3NZFjV1 for ; Fri, 9 Jul 2004 08:48:23 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13804-1089388091-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com eceived: from [66.218.66.159] by n44.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 09 Jul 2004 15:48:11 -0000 X-Sender: asc-l@ix.netcom.com X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 67712 invoked from network); 9 Jul 2004 15:48:07 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.167) by m19.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:07 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.123) by mta6.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:07 -0000 Received: from h-66-167-46-192.phlapafg.dynamic.covad.net ([66.167.46.192] helo=localhost) by swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net with esmtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1BixbZ-0006Rx-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Fri, 09 Jul 2004 08:48:05 -0700 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Trekiverse Message-ID: X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.9/32.560 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.123 From: ASC* Archive Team MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Fri, 09 Jul 2004 11:47:27 -0400 Subject: [ASC] NEW VOY 'Lieutenant Keegan, Part 2, the Trial' PG-13 4/12 Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ELNK-AV: 0 Yahoo! Domains - Claim yours for only $14.70 http://us.click.yahoo.com/Z1wmxD/DREIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> On Mon, 05 Jul 2004 15:46:47 GMT, in alt.startrek.creative, "Khaliban" wrote: Lieutenant Keegan - The Trial by Khaliban A ST:Voyager story Part 4/12 PG-13 Summary: Is it a crime to be too good at your job? "How would you deal with the excess muons?" B'Elanna asked. "What?" Phil said. "That method would produce excess muons. If you can't remove them, they'll destabilize the reaction. The mix ratio will be off." Phil laughed like a quick stutter. "You're right." "Yes, Ensign, I know." Phil laughed again. "You're right. And I was wrong." "Yes, I know. That's why I'm the Chief Engineer." Phil studied nothing with a wild expression. "Yes, it is. That's exactly why you're the Chief Engineer." He laughed again. "You're a better engineer than I am." "I'm glad you feel that way. If you're done laughing, could you reroute the plasma conduits in Jeffries tube five?" "Anything you say, Lieutenant. I am here to serve." Off duty, back in his room, he picked up a painting and looked at it. "I'm a lousy painter," he said and threw it against the wall. He laughed and picked up a violin. "I'm a mediocre musician." He threw it against the wall. "I'm a poor philosopher. I'm a rotten cook. I can't sing to save my life!" Books and pans struck the wall. Furniture, a potted plant, a sculpture all hit the wall. He turned the desk over and pulled out the dresser. He finally sat in a chair and tossed pieces of a model starship at the wall. "I'm not the best engineer aboard this ship. I'm NOT the best engineer aboard the ship!" He leaned his head back and laughed. The door buzzed. "Come on in!" he said. Leslie Willis entered. "Phil?" she said. "Are you Okay?" "Hell yes! I'm not the best engineer on this ship." "I know." "Why didn't you ever tell me that?" he said, looking up. "I don't know." She looked around the room. "Is everything all right?" He laughed again. "This is the best day of my life." "I'd hate to see your worst." "That, Leslie, was a very long time ago. You've nothing to fear." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Why are you here? I'm not going back to the science department. That's for damn sure." "I heard about what happened," she said. "I came to see if you wanted to talk about it. I guess you don't." "Leslie, my sweet," he said, lifting his head, "I am grateful for the offer. You are a true friend." Moments passed as she studied the giddy man. "Do you dance?" she asked at last. "Yes! I'm no damn good. Why?" "Jessica found a new club on the holodeck. We could go. I think I can get Lisa Hanunga to join us. Are you interested?" He turned to her with his head at an angle. "Are you trying to set me up with Lisa again?" "Yes." "So, this isn't because Jessica likes to dance and you can't?" "Sometimes I hate that mind of yours," she said. "I get a lot of that." He walked to her and took her by the shoulders. "Leslie, the way I feel right now, I will go anywhere and do anything." "Really? Lisa will be ecstatic." Hours later, as the tango reached its climax, Keegan dropped Lisa Hanunga into a low dip. Lisa arched her back and moaned. Jessica Rohr watched closely and licked her lips. "Hey!" Leslie said. "Eyes on the target." "Just admiring the technique. Why don't you ever do that?" "Because you're taller than I am." "Oh, right." Lisa staggered to the table, grabbed her glass and swallowed the contents. "No more," she said. "I need to rest." "Jess?" Phil asked. Jessica raised her hands. "I'll need some time, besides, I've had the most dances." "Then, Leslie, it falls to you," Phil said, taking her hand. "Fall is right." "Don't worry, I'll hold on." "Not too tight," Lisa and Jessica said together. Leslie leaned over and kissed Jessica. "No worries, my love." Phil pulled her onto the floor as a waltz began. "How did she get him to do this?" Lisa asked, not trying to hide the way she watched Phil. "After the incident in Engineering, Leslie went to see how he was." "And to see if the laws of physics had changed?" Jessica laughed. "She said he had demolished his quarters and was sitting in a chair laughing." She recounted the rest of the conversation. "He said that? All this time, and all I had to do was find a mistake. Tell Leslie I owe her a big favor." "Enough," Leslie said, sitting down. "Enough embarrassment." "You weren't that bad." "Yes, I was." "Will you feel better if I agree?" "Yes," she said, massaging a foot. "Then, who's next?" Lisa stood up and took hold of Phil. "The man's inexhaustible," Leslie said. "God, I hope so," Lisa replied. "Good lord, Lisa," Jessica said, "Why don't you rape the man in front of us?" Lisa swung around with a wry smirk and shoved the glasses off the table. "You up for it?" she said to him. He pushed himself against her. "You tell me." "That," Jessica said, "Is our cue to leave." "No," Phil said, "It's ours." He took Lisa by the waist and tossed her over one shoulder. "Lisa has been very naughty and needs a spanking." He carried the giggling woman off the holodeck and down the hall. "I know someone else who needs a spanking," Leslie said. "Bare hand or paddle?" "Surprise me." Two hours later, Phil, dressed in only a pair of pants, carried Lisa into Sickbay. She wore only a robe. "Ow, Phil, ow, Phil, OW, Phil," she said as he lowered her to a bed. "Doctor!" Phil called out. "State the nature of the medical emergency," the Doctor said, phasing into view. "What happened here?" "I got a little excited," Phil said. Lisa shook her head. "We both did. I'm as much to blame." The Doctor scanned her. "A cracked hip, a broken wrist and a dislocated shoulder. How excited were you, Ensign?" He injected Lisa with a hypo. "That will ease the pain and help you sleep. Open your robe." She looked at both of them and pealed the robe open. The Doctor picked up a belt with a strap attached. He put the belt on her and placed the strap around the leg below her broken hip. "You will be off duty for a week while that heals." He put a device on her wrist. "Please scream," he said and popped her shoulder into place. She screamed. "In the future, I suggest you use some restraint." "It was the damn restraint that pulled my arm out," she replied. She closed her robe and climbed off the bed. She winced when her weight reached her hip. "Let me help you," Phil said. "I'll be fine," she said. She limped to the door and leaned against the wall. She gasped a few times before she said, "Help me." He picked her up, gingerly, and carried her to her quarters. There, he laid her on the bed and grabbed his clothes from the floor. "Where are my damn socks?" he said. "Phil--" "Stop. I just need my socks," he said. "There they are." "Phil," Lisa said. "No. No, I can't do it." "Phil! Stop. Please. It was hard enough getting you here." She leaned on her good arm and watched him. "Do you need anything from the replicator?" He pulled his shirt on. "No. I can reach the replicator. Will you stop doing that?" "Stop what?! Hurting you?" Her voice was hard and steady, but her eyes glistened. "I'm willing to survive a few bruises for good relationship." "I'm not willing to cause them," he said. He walked out, carrying his clothes. * * * STARDATE 55228.88: Fourth Day of The Trial "I was twenty-one," Keegan said. "By three years, the youngest in the department. You were how old?" "Twenty-seven," Leslie Willis said, "And the oldest next to Nirrip." "You had seniority, experience, training. Why that vote?" "You had been the defacto head of the department for months. Nirrip's plan to ease you into the team failed the first day. You were ahead of us before you began. We never got to a vote, not really." "Did that bother you?" he asked. "I love science too much for an ego. My first Chief Science Officer was only two years older than me. I remembered her as a student from the Academy. She made my head spin. Our field is saturated with child geniuses. Einstein published Relativity at twenty-six. I was glad for the chance to work with you. Nirrip loved you. He gave you all his grunt work and got twice as much of his own work done." She gestured at him with fervor. "A child genius. That was what you thought of me?" "Yes," she said. "I remember... I remember a task the captain gave us. I wrote a paper in the Academy on the use of plasma scarring to determine the stages of manufacture of different alloys. The captain told us to analyze a relic drifting near a white dwarf. I got the job and sent it to you for review. You corrected my theory and my original paper. You fixed my damn doctoral thesis! I could have kissed you." Phil tried to hold in a smile. "Lieutenant Commander Willis, are you afraid of me?" "Hell no!" "Do you find the work I did suspect?" "No, not at all." "Why not?" She puzzled over her answer. "In the late twentieth century, doctors wondered if they should use medical information gleaned from the Nazi Holocaust. Volumes of documentation existed on hypothermia and dehydration, and all that work done with twins. No one questioned the value of the material, only the source. Would using that information betray the victims or justify their suffering? The information was not to blame. A fact is a fact." She paused, clearly organizing her words. "I based my view of your work on the man I saw. I still do. I don't credit the genetic engineers with your ideas or the other eugenics. In all the time I knew you, I never saw you do anything that would harm another. I don't hesitate to praise you for the papers those scientists stole." "Harm another? Like the crew of the Equinox?" "Yes. You tried desperately to be the voice of morality for the department. You seemed obsessed with it." "Objection," Commander Brown said, "The witness cannot know the mind of the defendant." "Mister Keegan?" Admiral Pek said. "I won't contest it," he said. "Lieutenant Commander Willis, what did you think of my efforts at morality?" "I was amused by them. I thought you were trying to please everyone." "To curry favor?" "Yes. Before I knew you, I dismissed it as the enthusiasm of youth." "And later?" "Just a quirk." "How so?" he asked. "You told us things we already knew or already did. I guess I found it endearing." "If you had found out what I was that first month in the Delta Quadrant, what would you have done?" She sighed and answered quietly. "I would have demanded you be put off the ship at the first opportunity." "Thank-you, Lieutenant Commander, I have no further questions." Commander Brown leaned back in her chair and waited for Keegan to take his seat. "Lieutenant Commander," she began, "What is your current assignment?" "Chief Science Officer of the Madagascar." Commander Brown read from a PADD. "I see you served well in that capacity aboard Voyager." "The captain never complained." "Were you happy to receive that position?" Leslie looked down at the floor. "Yes." "But, you believe Mister Keegan would have done a better job." "Yes, I do." Commander Brown walked to the middle of the room, reading from the PADD. "Who are the Vendite?" "They are a race we encountered. They asked us to repair their ecosystem. Their sun had entered a state of instability. Solar flare activity had increased tenfold. It threatened the biosphere." "Were you able to help them?" "Yes." "How?" the commander asked. "I saw Phil at lunch one day. He made a suggestion." "How much time passed between the assignment and Mister Keegan's suggestion?" "Two days," she said. "Did anyone die during that time?" "Yes," Leslie said in a soft voice. "If he had lead the department, could he have prevented those deaths?" "Yes, I believe so." "There are other examples," Commander Brown said, holding up the PADD. "I know," Leslie replied. "In your opinion, were his actions wrong for a Starfleet officer?" "Yes," Leslie said. "Thank-you, Lieutenant Commander." "Redirect, your honor?" Phil said, standing. Chauhan nodded. "Lieutenant Commander, would you serve with me again?" Leslie waited and waited, hoping for a good answer. "I would go to hell and back to read one of your papers, but I don't know how I would feel if I had to serve with you again." "Thank-you. No further questions." * * * STARDATE 50312.5: In Orbit Above Earth, 1996 He sat cross-legged in front of the window and watched India pass below him. He held a PADD that displayed his recent scan. Nine hundred and eighty-one eugenic signatures. Eighty-one signatures were below the age of five. In orbit, just past the horizon, two DY-50 series shuttles sat docked to the new space station. On the continent below, three DY-70 transports waited on launch platforms. Two DY-80 and DY-90 transports sat in hangers. On an island to the south, a favorite retreat for the Prime Minister, a single DY-100 stood in a bunker. In two months, the war would begin. Captain Janeway told the crew to ignore it. They could not interfere with this history. Keegan smiled lightly. "Burn in hell, you bastard," he said. * * * STARDATE 50472.37: Two and a Half Years in The Delta Quadrant "Taida was upset," B'Elanna said. "I noticed," Phil said. "I am prepared to open the primary computer panel." "You are authorized to do so." She examined a control terminal closely. "Why was she upset?" "You know why. I am removing the primary and secondary relay junctures." "Proceed. I think you make a nice couple." "Thank-you. I am now accessing the main library interface." "Wait." She input a command code. "Proceed." "I am now rerouting all secondary functions to the Auxiliary Core." "You have authorization to proceed." She watched the data flow. "It was just dinner." "No it wasn't. I am now inputting the modified interface protocols." "Stop. Disconnect the tertiary relay juncture." She continued to watch the data until he completed the task. "You have authorization to input the new protocols. So what if it wasn't just dinner?" "Stop it B'Elanna." He sat back while the programs loaded. "What's wrong with that?" "I put a woman in Sickbay." She leaned around the terminal. "Some women like that." "Taida isn't one of them. Neither is Lisa." "There are techniques. My mother told them to me." "Your mother?" he said. "She wanted me to marry a Klingon male. She thought I should be ready." "Is that a Klingon thing?" "No, that's a 'my mother' thing. How did you do that, anyway?" "I'm stronger than I look." She examined the breadth of his shoulders. "Oh. Does this happen to you often?" "Hurting women? I hope not." "No. Women throwing themselves at you." He sighed. "It seems like it. The fact is, few people in my family have been called unattractive." She nodded at that. "But," he continued, "I think it's cabin fever more than anything else. We need some kind of outlet. Once in a while, a woman will think I'd make a good outlet. They move on eventually." "Why do you let them?" He leaned back at her. "I don't want to hurt them physically or emotionally." "That's a pile of manure, Phil," she said, her eyes on the control panel. "The hell it is. How many women do I have to put in Sickbay to convince you of that?" She looked back at him, considering a response. "Fine, it's your personal life, but some of the women on board are healthier than you think." "Any suggestions?" She watched him and returned to the panel. "Not just now. I think some women would risk a night in Sickbay." "I don't like hurting anyone," he said. "No matter how much I might enjoy the experience." "Ah-ha! Lisa said you were having fun." "Up until the screaming began." She tapped the controls. "My mother said that's the best part." "Your mother is Klingon. Bruises are a sign of affection." "They can be a lot more than that." "What?" he said. "Nothing. Nothing at all. You have authorization to return secondary functions to the Primary Core." He input the commands. "I had a bad experience. Is that so hard to understand?" "You're running, Phil. Leslie said the same thing." "Please leave Leslie out of this." "You'd make a good department head." "Fine. I'd make a good department head. Find me a department." She stopped completely. "Do you mean that?" "Yes. Give me something really obscure, deep in the bowels of the ship." "How far do you need to run, Phil?" He lifted his eyes. "Relay junctures?" "You're authorized to replace the secondary and tertiary relay junctures. Answer my question." "I'm not running, per se." Her eyes said bullshit. "Fine. I'm running. Are you happy?" "No. I like you where you are." "You've never done anything bad?" She considered her answer. "You told me once you were seeking redemption. You won't find it down here." "I need to go down somewhere else for you?" he said softly. "What?" she said. "Nothing. Nothing at all." "You are authorized to replace the primary relay juncture, and nothing else." "Yes, sir." "Are you at least going to the party?" "No," he said. He watched her expression. "No." Her expression didn't change. "Yes," he said. "Are you happy?" "Yes." "We're not going to dance." "The hell we're not." "You're lucky you have a nice ass," he whispered. "Damn straight," she whispered back. It began with a game of darts. Someone suggested four teams; two Federation, two Maquis. Bets were taken. Everyone had fun. A joke was made. Another joke followed. A comment followed the joke. A harsher comment followed that. Two and a half years in the Delta Quadrant, and the crew was tense. For two and a half years, they refused to say what they thought. They refused to think what they felt. They refused to do what they wanted to do. Better it be done without phasers. Phil claimed he had work to do. It allowed him to delay his arrival. He hoped most people would be drunk or exhausted. He could walk in, say hello, beat someone at pool, laugh and leave. Two minutes later, and security would have stopped him. B'Elanna, screaming, "Damn Federation!" shoved an ensign against a wall and punched another in the stomach. Someone took hold of her from behind. She butted her head back and turned, fist forward, at any target. Phil walked in the door. He registered the chaos and heard the crack of a nose breaking. He turned and, by pure instinct, lifted his hand. With a loud smack, he caught B'Elanna's fist. A dozen combatants nearby stopped fighting when they saw it. B'Elanna stared at her fist, hovering in space as if detached from her body. She wondered, for just a moment, at the strength of the hand that held hers. "God damn it, B'Elanna!" Phil said, throwing her hand down. "Why the hell do you have to be so Klingon all the time?" Security found him on his way out and ordered him back to his quarters. Now in an ensign's quarters, he had more room to move and more furniture to throw. He took hold of a table and tossed it backhanded across the room. His door chimed. "What is it?!" It chimed again. "Come in." Munro stood in the doorway. "Why didn't you tell us you weren't involved?" "I was going back to my quarters, anyway. I had no desire to make trouble." "You sure as hell calmed down Lieutenant Torres," she said. She walked to the table. "Prefer your anarchy alone?" "Are you off duty?" "Computer, what is the time?" "The current time is twenty-one, oh four." "Yes, I am," she said. "Do want to go to Sickbay?" "Sickbay?" she asked. "The same way Lisa Hanunga did. I need to vent my frustration on something other than furniture." She sat on the bed and leaned back. "I'm a little healthier than Lieutenant Hanunga, and I know some techniques. Why are you like that, anyway?" "You can have sex or questions. Not both." She stood up and walked to him. "It's a tough choice, but I think those questions are worth knowing. Besides, I don't think you're at your best right now. You could try the 'Vulcan Love Slave'." "I'll keep it in mind." He took hold of her and kissed her. "Do you like me?" She laughed and pulled away. "Yes, that's why I'm here." "Thanks, that means a lot." She pondered him. "Oh yes, those answers are worth the wait. Do you need anything else?" "Time on the holodeck alone." "Do you want me to suggest a few other holonovels?" "No," he said, "I'll find my own." On Mon, 5 Jul 2004 10:44:08 -0500, in alt.startrek.creative, "Khaliban" wrote: Lieutenant Keegan - The Trial by Khaliban A ST:Voyager story Part 5/12 PG-13 Summary: Is it a crime to be too good at your job? "The Computer Core? Are you serious?" B'Elanna said. "As serious as I can be." "Nobody goes to the Computer Core." He shrugged. "You need someone there. I can do a lot with the core." She turned away from him. "Did you realign the coils?" "Yes." "Did you flush the vents?" "Yes." "Did I apologize about yesterday?" "Twice," he said. "How did you do that?" "Healthy living." "Phil--" "Damn it, B'Elanna, what do you want from me?" She struggled to find her best answer. "Okay, Phil. The approval process will take about a month." "Thank-you, and I'm sorry. I had a bad day. I don't like it when my supervisor tries to beat me up." "I apologized. Twice." "You're right," he said, smiling, "You did. I shouldn't complain about it. Or that weak punch." "Weak is it? Take me to the holodeck, and I'll show you something weak." He chuckled. "Take me to your quarters, and I'll show you something strong." "That, Ensign, is insubordination and highly inappropriate." "Yes, Mistress. Perhaps I deserve a good beating." She smacked him across the arm. "Back to work, before I have you flogged." "Not after?" "No! Back to work." "Yes, sir." * * * "B'Elanna and Tuvok speak highly of you," Chakotay said. "Perhaps they are being kind, sir." "B'Elanna and Tuvok? But tell me, why do you want the Computer Core?" "I feel I can do a good job." Chakotay crossed his fingers. "That makes no sense, Ensign. It hardly helps your career." "I don't need to help my career, sir. I need to do my job and help get us home." "You're not an Academy graduate, are you?" "No, sir," Phil said. "I received a field commission from Mister Tuvok." "He seems to think you're Maquis." "Not even Mister Tuvok can know every member of the crew. Personally, I've stopped caring which side anyone was on." "Commendable. I wish you were around during that brawl." "I was, sir," Phil said. "B'Elanna took a swing at me." Chakotay laughed. "You're lucky you're still standing." He read from a PADD and sighed over the material. "I see nothing in your record to indicate you are the best choice for this position. The Computer Core is a very important part of the ship. I can't randomly hand this out." "I understand completely, sir." "If it weren't for the recommendations of your former department heads, I wouldn't consider you for it at all." He read the PADD again. "Your history is very sketchy." "I'm from a very backward world." "That happens." He set the PADD down and thrummed his fingers across it. "You may not be the best I've seen, but you are the only person aboard to request the job. We do need someone in the Core, you can do the job, and Mister Tuvok trusts you. Pending review by the captain, you will receive your promotion by the end of the week. Congratulations." "Thank-you, sir. I will do my best." * * * STARDATE 55231.39: Fifth Day of The Trial "Lieutenant Torres, why did you suggest me for the Computer Core?" "I knew you could do the--" The sound of an infant's wail stopped B'Elanna. In the gallery, Tom shushed little Miral. "Do you need some time?" Phil asked. "No," B'Elanna said. "Tom?" Tom Paris carried his daughter out of the room. "Lieutenant Torres?" Phil said. "I knew you could do the work. I also trusted you completely." "Did you ever regret your decision?" "When you shut down my ship, yes." Phil smiled. "Looking back over the entirety of my time in the Computer Core, do you believe you made a bad choice?" "You did your job. You did it as well as I expected. You were one of the best computer engineers I've worked with. No, I don't believe I made a bad choice." "How did you feel about the Quagaar?" "More proof you weren't living up to your potential." "You were upset to lose me from Engineering." She nodded. "Not as upset as Leslie, though. She begged me to send you back twice." "Are you a better engineer than I am?" "Yes," she said. "I am." "But not a better scientist?" "No." "Do you like me?" She paused. "In many ways, yes." "Do you fear me?" She stared and stared at him. "No, Phil, I don't." "Would you serve with me again?" "Yes," she said quietly, "Yes, I would." He picked up a PADD. "Were you able to find any traces of my commands in the computer after my protocol whitewash?" "No, they were completely erased." "Did you find any hardwired commands?" "No." "Are you certain?" "Completely certain. Seven and I missed nothing." "Thank-you, Lieutenant. No further questions." Commander Brown stood and walked to B'Elanna. "Lieutenant Torres, I see you've distinguished yourself aboard Voyager on multiple occasions." "Yes, Commander." "Do you now consider yourself a Starfleet officer?" B'Elanna touched the two Starfleet pips on her neck. "Yes, I do." "Do you regret your time in the Maquis?" "No." "How do you resolve the two?" "I haven't. That time is ended. I deal with it when I need to." "But legally," the commander said. "All of you were given a pardon." "Yes." "Why?" B'Elanna looked at Phil, who could only shrug. He knew the question was coming. "We were given pardons, because we acted as Starfleet officers while aboard Voyager." "In your opinion, did Mister Keegan act like a Starfleet officer when he added those commands to the Computer Core?" "No." "Did he act like a Maquis?" B'Elanna stared at the commander. "No," she said slowly, "He didn't." "Thank-you, Lieutenant." The prosecutor sat down. "Redirect?" Keegan said. Pek nodded. "Lieutenant, what would you have done if you found out what I was that first month?" "Avoided you," B'Elanna said. "If you found me in the Alpha Quadrant, before Voyager, would you have recruited me for the Maquis?" "What?" she said. "Would you--?" "No," she said. "I don't believe any of us would." "Thank-you, Lieutenant." * * * STARDATE 51042.57: Three Years in The Delta Quadrant "Phil," B'Elanna whispered and looked down at her towel. He pushed a finger between her breasts and tugged. The towel fell away. Strong muscles showed beneath her brown skin. At last, a woman that could survive him. She drew him to her bed. After he pulled off his tunic, she reached up and ripped open his shirt. She lunged forward and bit his chest. He groaned and pulled her face closer. She arched her head back and brought her mouth close to his. "Do you know about the Klingon Orgasm Ritual?" she asked. "No," he said. She guided his eyes above her bed. "Take the painstick and place it--" "Lieutenant Keegan?" B'Elanna said. He looked up from his food and smiled. "Yes, Lieutenant Torres?" "How do you like the new rank?" She put her tray on the table and sat down. It had taken a walk to get there. Phil always took a table in the back corner of the mess. "I like my new quarters," he replied. She laughed. "Benefits of rank. So, what were you thinking about just now?" "Sex." She laughed again. "Anyone I know?" "Probably. It's not that big a ship." She looked out the window and sighed. "It's been a dry spell for all of us, hasn't it?" "Yes, but enough about the inadequacies of our respective personal lives. I wanted to ask you an engineering question. I found a lot of hardwired commands in the various transfer nodes around the ship." "I know," she said. "They're there for maintenance and security." "Some of the commands are very strange," he said. "I asked one of my professors about them once. He told me I would understand them if I ever became an admiral. Until then, don't worry about it." He scowled at the table. "Isn't it my job to understand it?" "Not according to my professor," she said, slicing off a piece of lasagna. "You know, you sound paranoid." "What?" he said. He appeared shocked, or hurt. "You're right. I can be paranoid sometimes." He lifted his coffee to his mouth but didn't drink. "Maybe it's just the Delta Quadrant." "What?" he said over the cup. "Yes, you're right. It's the Delta Quadrant." He laughed and took a sip. "The Delta Quadrant is out to get me." "It's not the only one." "Excuse me, Lieutenant?" She smiled past her fork. "Nothing. Nothing at all." "That didn't sound like nothing." "Well--" she began. "Am I interrupting?" Tom Paris said. He held a tray of food. "Tom?" B'Elanna said. "I thought you were on duty." "I can break for lunch." "Yes, you can," she said. "Do you mind if I have a seat?" Tom said. "What were you talking about?" "Transfer nodes," Phil said. When B'Elanna turned back, Tom looked at Phil and stabbed his head toward the door. Phil groaned. "It can wait until later. Besides, Tom is gesturing me to leave." "What?" B'Elanna said. She swung back around and slapped Tom in the stomach. "Why did you do that?" Tom put his tray down. "I wanted to have lunch with you. Is that so bad?" B'Elanna shook her head at him. "Yes, if you drive my friends off to do it." "I'm not driving him off," Tom said. "I just want to have lunch with you." "I know, but he's a friend. Three people can have lunch can't they?" "Yes, I suppose three people can have lunch, but that's not the point." She threw her hands apart. "I don't know if you ever know the point." Neither one noticed Phil leave. God, he thought, they're already married. * * * The door to Philip Keegan's room chimed. "Come in," he said. Seven of Nine walked in through the door. "Lieutenant," she said. "I have determined you have the greatest likelihood of providing physical gratification. I wish to study this aspect of human behavior. Do you find this course of action acceptable?" "Yes," he said, "I can agree to your proposal." "Then I will begin the mating act. Disrobe. I will do the same." "I'll watch for now." "That is inefficient." "Have you ever done this before?" "I have not." "Then, how do you know it's inefficient?" "It is not logical," she said. "The act requires that we are both disrobed." "It's not supposed to be logical," he replied. "Trust me on this." She considered him with irritation. "Very well. I will begin." For the next twenty minutes, she struggled to remove her clothes, tugging and yanking at the tight suit. Finally, she worried her feet out of her shoes and stood. "I am now prepared for the sexual act. Remove your clothing." "Um," Phil said, "Lie down on the bed." "Your actions remain illogical and inefficient, but we must use the bed for the act. I will comply." She walked to the bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling. "Begin," she said. "Begin?" he asked. "Begin the sexual act." "Oh, hell." "Yes, Lieutenant. You are now required to remove your clothing and insert your--" "Stop! Computer, end program." His quarters and Seven of Nine faded away. "I don't believe it. Only that woman could be irritating in a sex fantasy. Computer, delete program. While your at it, delete the Kes program too." "Specify," the computer responded. "There are two-hundred and thirteen 'Kes' programs on file." "Mine! Delete mine." He walked off the holodeck muttering, "This was just a bad idea." * * * "Ensign Sandra Donnelley, sir," she said. She pulled a panel from the side of the Main Computer. "Another Irishman. Glad to hear it. A British captain makes me nervous." He monitored her actions on his control panel. Donnelley laughed. "I think she was raised in America." "And I was raised near Borneo. Let's not quibble. I never met you when I was in Maintenance. Why is that?" "Denise Reed told me she'd make my life hell." She removed a component, ran a repair tool over it and replaced it. "You outrank her." She repaired another component. "Did you ever bug your older siblings?" "Constantly," he said. "Isn't she dating Jerry, now?" Sandra stopped. "Yes, she is." She continued with her work. "So, you're safe?" he asked. She dropped her eyes. "I guess you could say that." "Do you like Thai food?" She put her tool down and walked around the console to him. "I don't want to go to Sickbay." "My cooking isn't that bad." "You know what I mean." "I thought Starfleet officers didn't fear the unknown. Or a challenge." She walked back to her tools. "I like Cantonese." "I know a few recipes." * * * "You never talk about yourself." Sandra let her robe drop. "This is all you need to know," she said. She pushed up on her toes to reach his mouth. "I'm serious," he said. "I want to know about you." He took hold of her. "And I want to moan beneath your fingers. Which sounds like more fun?" "Okay, that does sound like more fun. But after three weeks, I expect more from a woman than just sex." He carried her to the bed. * * * Sandra stabbed around at her salad. "So you hated your cousin. So what?" "The point is, you know that. You know my sister is a writer. Do you even have siblings?" He pushed his plate away and ignored his food. He also ignored the other people in the messhall watching them. "I want that part of my life private." She ate a forkful of salad and chewed slowly. He leaned forward on the table. "I can strip you naked and do anything to your body--" "God, yes." "But, you won't tell me your first assignment out of the Academy. You won't even tell me when you graduated." She tossed her fork down. "Why does that even matter? Honestly, Phil, we're having a good time. You don't enjoy that?" He watched her and watched her. "No. I need more." "I don't." She stood up. "I need less. I'm sorry." * * * STARDATE 55237.21: Seventh Day of The Trial "Commander Chakotay," Phil said, "Please explain the dichotomy of the Computer Core." "It is one of the most important parts of the ship," the commander began. "But it requires very little maintenance. Officers are usually assigned to the Core only when they can go nowhere else. Often, the Core is without a department head, or a department for that matter, and the Chief Engineer oversees the maintenance of the computer. Inspite of the security checks and evaluations required for the post, inspite of it's importance, assignment to the Core often results in the stagnation of an officer's career." "Why did you give me the assignment?" The commander crossed his fingers. "Considering how far we were from the Alpha Quadrant, I didn't think there was anything you could do." "Do you believe I did my job well?" "Yes," Chakotay said slowly. "Did you ever reprimand me?" "No." "Did you consider me a good officer?" "Yes, I did." "Mister Tuvok thought I was Maquis. Why didn't you ask him about that?" "I had more pressing matters at the time." "Of course. However, it is the job of the First Officer to oversee the crew. My successful deception does reflect well on you. Can you justify the error?" "I thought you might have been a spy like Seska, or--" He looked at the admirals. "--something else. After Mister Jonas was exposed, I relaxed my view of you. We needed our crew unified. According to everyone I talked to, you always pressed for that. Your service in security showed your dedication to the ship. I considered your irregular history odd, but nothing more." "If you had been in my position, as a Maquis infiltrator for example, would you have done what I did?" "Yes, I believe I would." "How would you justify those actions to yourself?" "The Maquis always felt what we did was right." "Was it right?" Phil asked. Chakotay reviewed the question. "I know that we failed, but I don't know what we did was wrong." "What I did, was that wrong?" Chakotay looked hard at Keegan. "Yes," he said. "What would you have done if you found out what I was?" "Arrested you." "Why?" "To protect the ship and her crew. That's my first duty." "You were a good Starfleet officer." "Yes," Chakotay said. "But you were Maquis." "Yes." "Your crimes were forgiven." "Yes." "Why?" "The captain had no choice," Chakotay said. "We needed each other." "Did you need me?" "You helped us." "Did I need you?" Keegan asked. "Yes," Chakotay said. "You couldn't survive the trip back alone." "Then, was I a threat?" "No." "So why did you fear me?" "I didn't," Chakotay said, "Until I knew what you were." "Thank-you, Commander." Commander Brown stood after Keegan sat down. "Tell me, Commander, as Voyager's First Officer, how many crimes did you commit?" "None," he said. "At least, not willingly." "Yes, there was that incident. I'm curious, Commander, how serious do you consider Mister Keegan's crimes?" "He requested that assignment with the purpose of betraying it." "Do you like him?" the prosecutor said. "Until he took over the ship, he never gave me a reason to dislike him. He annoyed me on a couple of occasions, but nothing else." "On what did you base your decision to give him that post?" "Mostly on the opinion of B'Elanna Torres. She thought highly of him. She praised him. That's something rare for B'Elanna." "And Mister Tuvok?" "Tuvok trusted him. That's also something rare." "What did your personal evaluation of him reveal?" the prosecutor asked. "He did his job better than expected. Whatever the job." "Do you believe he served his ship to the best of his ability?" "Yes, I do." The commander blinked sharply. "I'm sorry, what?" "If we knew what he was, the captain would have imprisoned or abandoned him. His oath required him to serve. He could not serve from the brig, so he was required to lie and underperform to serve at all. Instead of some of his ability, we would have gained none of his ability." "You believe his crimes were justified?" The commander shook his head. "Not all of them, no. But I believe withholding irrelevant or private information for his own protection is not a crime." "You sympathize with his actions?" "With his actions? No. But I understand his motivations." "Thank-you, Mister Chakotay," Brown said. "No further questions." After a moment of silence, Admiral T'Lara said, "Mister Keegan, do you have any more questions for this witness?" "No, Admiral, I don't." He smiled as he said it. "Mister Chakotay," T'Lara said, "You may step down." -- eceived: from [66.218.67.196] by n50.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 09 Jul 2004 15:48:34 -0000 X-Sender: asc-l@ix.netcom.com X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 82799 invoked from network); 9 Jul 2004 15:48:32 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.167) by m3.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:32 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.123) by mta6.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:32 -0000 Received: from h-66-167-46-192.phlapafg.dynamic.covad.net ([66.167.46.192] helo=localhost) by swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net with esmtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1Bixbb-0006Rx-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Fri, 09 Jul 2004 08:48:08 -0700 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Trekiverse Message-ID: X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.9/32.560 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.123 From: ASC* Archive Team MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Fri, 09 Jul 2004 11:47:31 -0400 Subject: [ASC] NEW VOY 'Lieutenant Keegan, Part 2, the Trial' PG-13 6/12 Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ELNK-AV: 0 Make a clean sweep of pop-up ads. Yahoo! Companion Toolbar. Now with Pop-Up Blocker. Get it for free! http://us.click.yahoo.com/L5YrjA/eSIIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> On Mon, 5 Jul 2004 10:44:39 -0500, in alt.startrek.creative, "Khaliban" wrote: Lieutenant Keegan - The Trial by Khaliban A ST:Voyager story Part 6/12 PG-13 Summary: Is it a crime to be too good at your job? STARDATE 51115.63: Three Years in The Delta Quadrant "Computer, locate all references to a Philip Keegan, born nineteen-seventy-three, attended MIT beginning in nineteen-eighty-six." "References found." Keegan read through the short history of his life. "Locate the optical storage chips in the protected archive that hold these records." A list appeared on a different screen. "Computer--" He took a deep breath. "Computer, delete the identified files from the Primary and Auxiliary Cores." "Deletion of a protected memory file requires the approval of two senior officers." He pushed himself away from the console and took another breath. "Computer, engage protocol Valjean, authorization Keegan, beta-two-nine-one-four. Bypass memory safety protocols." "Confirmed." "Delete the requested files." "Files deleted." "Mark the selected memory chips as damaged. Record the damage under the following conditions." He input a series of damage reports. "Confirmed," the computer responded. "Delete this session, disengage protocol Valjean, delete protocol Valjean and all records pertaining to it." "Confirmed." "Run a level three diagnostic and correct any damaged files." "Beginning diagnostic." Keegan opened a panel in the floor and climbed down to the archive room. He took a tool from his belt. Walking along the wall of glowing chips, he found the first record. He put the tool to the base of the chip and disengaged its connection. He watched it in his hand and considered crushing it. He shoved it in a pouch and moved on to the next chip. * * * STARDATE -333516.43: July 8, 1990 An army of onlookers cheered as the first DY-50 planetary transport lifted off the launch pad. It carried a small crew and components of the new space station. In one of the observation booths, Philip Keegan raised a glass of Champaign to the ship. An arm's length away, one of Phil's brothers embraced his sister and kissed her deeply. Another sister, Gescilene, massaged Phil's arm and kissed his shoulder. "Disappointed?" she asked. "He promised me Mars." "He lied," she said and walked in front of him, her hand on his arm. "I know." He pressed his lips against hers. "Doesn't mean I can't be happy about the launch." She adjusted his shirt over his ever broadening shoulders. "That's true, I suppose." He pressed himself against her ever expanding chest. "We helped them today. That won't change. He can't take it back." "You sound the way I do when I save someone in the ER." "No, I don't. You giggle." "I do not giggle. How many more are going up?" "This year? Four. The first seventy will be ready next august." "When will I lose you to the red planet?" she asked. "When I can beg the trip out of him." Phil's brother looked up. "Stop! Stop such bitterness. Today, we are happy." "Phil," his other sister said. "Have you picked your sports?" "Where did that come from?" he said. "I want to know. I had mine picked the day of the announcement." "It's two years to Barcelona. Give me time." "Remember," Gescilene said, "Phil's still struggling with his Masters degree." They laughed, and Phil smacked his sister on the ass. "What is wrong with you kids?" a voice called out behind them. "We're enjoying ourselves, Cordaro," Phil said and hugged his sister. "I know. I just wanted to make you jump," Rodriguez replied. "Phil, Gesci, could I see you?" They groaned to each other and followed their cousin. He walked them to one of the secure hangers. Phil looked up with pride as they passed the DY-50. As they rounded the engines of the launch vehicle, they saw Zi Lin, his arm in a cast, standing over a man strapped to a chair. "Foreign spy?" Gesci ventured. "Not as far as I can tell," Zi said. "He calls himself Gary Seven." "Is that a joke?" Phil asked. "No," Zi said. He held up his broken arm. "Neither is this. He and his partner put up a hell of a fight." "Why?" Gesci said. "The only thing I've been able to get out of him is that 'This shouldn't happen. The launch isn't right.' I don't know what he means by that or how he did this to me. I haven't seen mental discipline this strong since grandfather." "What do you want us to do?" Phil asked. Zi tossed him what looked like a mutated fountain pen. "Tell me what you can about that. The circuitry self destructed, but you might learn something about the materials." "And me?" Gesci asked. "I need to do some tests on him, but I can't like this. He looks like a normal human, but he didn't fight like one. I want to know why. I'll need the works. Start with an MRI. Give me a full report after the dissection." "What--" Gesci said. "What about his partner?" "She was a normal human." "Oh." "Nathari and Kashmira are upstairs," Phil said. "I could use their help." "I'll get them," Rodriguez said. "You go to the lab." Gesci took hold of Phil's arm and squeezed until he winced. "I know," he whispered. "Get going," Zi said. Phil nodded and left. He had the pen under an electron microscope when Kashmira walked into the lab. "Where's Nate?" he asked. "He went to help Gesci," she said. She started up the mass spectrometer. "Do want to go somewhere and get drunk?" "Not as much a Gesci." * * * STARDATE 55242.35: Ninth Day of The Trial "Are you ready, Mister Tuvok?" Phil said to the computer screen. On the screen, Tuvok gave a single nod. To the Vulcan's left, a middle aged man scowled and shook his head, not lifting his eyes to the display. "Thank-you, Lieutenant Commander. Please remove the dedication plaque." Tuvok took a step toward the plaque, a molecular welder in hand. "Your honors, this is not necessary," the middle aged man said. He pointed to the plaque and the names that covered it. "Those men and women were heroes." "That may not be the case," Admiral T'Lara said. "We have a responsibility to the truth, Mister Gladstone. Mister Tuvok, remove the dedication plaque." Tuvok placed the tip of the welder to the first rivet. The plaque he touched read "S.S. Valkyrie, First of the DY-50 Transports, Launch Date July 8, 1990". Names of human engineers, etched into the metal, covered the space below the date. Tuvok separated each rivet from the wall and peeled away the plate. Signatures eight columns wide and twenty rows deep filled the smooth square of metal behind the plaque. "Computer," Phil said, "Focus in on the signature in the second column, third up from the bottom." The view on the courtroom display zoomed in. The members of the court struggled to read the grotesque handwriting. Only the "P", the "h" and the "K" could be easily identified. "That will be all," Admiral Chauhan said, and the display zoomed out. "Thank-you, Mister Gladstone." The curator of the Utopia Planitia Museum responded by taking the plaque from Tuvok and leaving. * * * STARDATE 54874.88: One Month Before Voyager's Return to the Alpha Quadrant "All of them?" Phil said. "Yes," Crewman Chell responded. He set down a plate and glass. "Instead of colonizing the nearest Class-M planet?" "Yes," Chell said. Phil shrugged. "And all this time, I thought it was just Neelix." He finished his meal, and Chell removed his plate and utensils. After Chell left, Captain Janeway walked in. She ordered the guards to leave. "We're going to move you," she said. "We can't keep you in here forever." "I was wondering when you would get to that." "You'll be in one of the least used parts of the ship and still under guard." "No replicator or computer access?" "You'll have an independent computer, and food will be brought to you. We will also allow you some books and other personal items. But no technology. The computer will be sealed off." "I'm not going to do anything." "I know," she said. "I wish you would sometimes." "Is it really that bad out there?" he asked. She sighed. "Where you're concerned, it is. You're creating a new rift. Some of your friends have gotten into fights." "I'm sorry. I don't want that." "What do you really want?" "Revenge against Khan for what he did to me, and I want my siblings to be remembered for the good people they were." "What does that mean to you, siblings and cousins?" "Same batch, siblings; different batch, cousins. Ten batches, one hundred to a batch. We called the genetic engineers our parents. Some of them probably were." "I'm not surprised you have rogue scientist in your blood," she said. "They weren't rogue. They were part of a large project that began in eighteen-sixty-eight." "You mean nineteen." "No. The project began in eighteen-sixty-eight after the publication of Origin of Species." "We were told--" "No. Only direct genetic manipulation began in the nineteen-sixties. Selective breeding began a century earlier." "I wonder why we never knew." "The selective breeding didn't produce emotional instability. Those scientists were arrogant but not at the level of Khan." "Every time we talk," she said, "I feel a little of history destroyed." "Human ego has always tried to make history and the universe fit its desires. The ego has always lost." "Is that why you are the way you are? Do you feel your ego losing?" "No," he said. "It's for a completely different reason." She found she wanted to draw out the conversation. She shook it off. "We'll move you in two days. Give the guards a list of the items you want from your room." When she left and the guards returned, one of them walked to him with a PADD. She watched him with eyebrows raised. "Lieutenant Munro, how are you?" he asked. "Should I shoot you or slap you?" "You made your choice. You got your answers." "Definitely shoot you. Maybe later." * * * Two days later, four guards escorted Philip Keegan to his new quarters. Tuvok spent the previous eight days on every small detail, insuring that even Mister Keegan could not escape the room. Unlike Phil's first trip through the corridors, no crewmembers watched him pass. The captain ordered the route off limits. Keegan, his hands cuffed in front of him, enjoyed the opportunity to walk more than three strides without hitting a wall. The guards, two human in front and two Vulcan in back, walked with rifles ready but expected no trouble. At the largest intersection, the humans advanced, watched the length of the side corridors, and motioned the procession forward. When the Vulcans reached the intersection, a flash grenade and a sonic grenade struck. Keegan dropped to the ground as the first phasers hit. He crawled to one of the stunned humans, felt around in the burning white and took his comm badge. Phil tapped it, whispered "Tuvok," and stuck the badge to his shirt under his tunic. A hand took hold of his arm and pulled. "Come on," a voice said through the metallic hiss in his ears. The hand pulled him down a corridor. He regained his sight just as they entered the access corridor to the Aero Shuttle. "Why are you doing this?" he said. Sandra Donnelley turned and kissed him. "Do you need to ask?" "Yes," he said. "In my era, we don't stop caring for someone just because we broke up." She opened the hatch to the repair bay around the shuttle. "I know. That doesn't answer my question." She reached the ventral hatch and tried to open it. "That won't work," he said. "It worked yesterday." "We didn't have a security lockdown yesterday." "Don't worry. I know a few tricks." She took out what appeared to be a normal tricorder and removed a non-standard device from it. She set the device on the hatch control panel and entered commands onto it. The hatch didn't open. She entered the commands four more times. She climbed down the side of the shuttle and opened a panel. She removed, examined and replaced some of the components. "I have it all set up," she said as she worked. "I installed a cryogenic chamber in the Aero Shuttle along with a holographic engineer and pilot. You'll be back in the Alpha Quadrant before any of us. You'll be safe." "I took them out," Phil said. "The cryogenic chamber?" She moved to a new panel. "The hardwired commands." She looked up. "What are you talking about?" "The hardwired commands built into the transfer nodes. I took them out." "What?" "What are you called?" he asked. "What are who called?" "Your organization," he replied. "In my day we called them secret police. What does Starfleet call them?" She watched him with narrow eyes and a clenched jaw. "What did you say?" "People today are very trusting, especially of Starfleet. No one would look for a department like that. You must find it very easy to hide." He smiled, as if at an inside joke. "Paranoia has some benefits over trust." "You bastard. That's why you were sleeping with me." He shrugged. "If it's any consolation, I broke it off when I started to like you." "No, Phil, it is not a consolation." She raised her phaser. "You're getting on that ship and going back to the Alpha Quadrant." "I want my trial." "Starfleet wants you back as soon as possible. The engineer has schematics from the Delta Flyer. She'll be just as fast when he's done." "Starfleet didn't issue this order. They want to kick me out." "We're offering you a way to serve in Starfleet. Do you want to abandon that?" "Yes." She took a step toward him. "I don't care." He jumped forward. The phaser struck his shoulder and numbed his arm. His other hand took the phaser from her. He bent it in half and tossed it away. "I will stay here," he said. She punched at him. His left arm, dragging his numbed right, knocked her hand away. She kicked out. He lifted a knee to block and jumped back. She attacked with more force and fury, continuing to attack until Janeway and Tuvok arrived. "Mister Keegan," the captain said, "Stop this before I stun you." "I'm not fighting back," he said. Donnelley punched and kicked at him with great skill. He blocked her hits or took them when necessary. His face was bruised and he favored one leg, but he never attacked. "Ensign Donnelley," Tuvok said, "I will not permit this." She continued to fight. Tuvok fired a phaser between them. When that failed, he shot her leg. She dropped with a yell. The captain tapped her badge. "Security--" she began. "No!" Donnelley said. "You can't do that. Tuvok, starlight protocol, code winslow eight-one-five. I commandeer this ship." "Your code is correct," Tuvok said, "But I will not permit this. You do not operate with the approval of Starfleet. Mister Keegan was correct." "What?" she said. Keegan threw the comm badge to Tuvok. "You son of a bitch," Donnelley said. "Mister Tuvok," the captain said with a little sarcasm, "Could I have an explanation?" "They are called Section Thirty-One." "No!" Donnelley said. "You are not permitted to discuss this." "They tried to recruit me out of the Academy. I declined, but duty prevented me from revealing them," he said. "They are Starfleet's espionage division. I do not know why they want Mister Keegan, but they are not autonomous. They cannot take him without Starfleet approval." "Why is she on my ship?" Janeway said. "Most starships, especially the long range exploration vessels, have one operative in the crew. As Security Chief, I was made aware of certain commands. If a crewmember gave me those commands, I was required to allow him or her to complete one action without interference. After that, the crewmember would be immediately transferred." "You are in violation of numerous Starfleet security directives," Donnelley said. "You'll be stripped of duty. And he" She pointed at Keegan. "is guilty of removing hardwired security commands from Voyager's computer system." She turned to Phil. "You're out of Starfleet no matter the results of your trial." "I'm certain the new charges will be added to the list," Tuvok said. "However, if this is not sanctioned by Starfleet Command, both of us will be cleared of the charges." "Ensign Donnelley," the captain said, "You will return to your duties in maintenance until I speak with Starfleet. You will be monitored. Those hardwired commands will not be put back unless I receive a direct order from Admiral Paris. You will not be allowed near Mister Keegan or any of the shuttles. I will maintain your anonymity, but this is my ship. You will not supersede my authority again." "My orders--" "Are irrelevant," the captain said. "Everyone has made sacrifices because of the Delta Quadrant. This is one of yours. Disobey my commands, and I will put you in the brig. Is that clear?" "Yes, sir." "No one will record this incident." the captain said. Donnelley nodded. "Mister Tuvok, escort Mister Keegan to his new quarters." "Yes, Captain," he said. "Mister Keegan," the captain said. "These grandiose performances of yours are growing tiresome. Could you try to avoid them?" "I will do my best, sir." "I can't ask for more than that." * * * One month later, as Philip Keegan sat at his computer composing a new paper, the intercom chimed. "Lieutenant, you have a visitor," a guard said. "Step away from the door." Without looking up, he replied, "I am." The door slid open, and a security officer stepped in with his rifle raised. He aimed the rifle at Keegan, waited to see if the eugenic would move, then nodded to someone outside. Admiral Kathryn Janeway walked into the room, crossed to a chair and sat down. The security officer, phaser still aimed at Keegan, stepped back, and the door closed. The admiral sat and waited, legs crossed, until Keegan finished his paragraph. "Admiral Janeway?" he said, turning to her. "Admiral. What can I do for you?" With age, the natural gravel of her voice had turned to a rasp. But, it still held all of its strength. "It's good to see you again, Phil." "Am I dead?" "No. You were in prison." "I lost?" "Yes. You were discharged and imprisoned for ten years." "Am I out?" "No," she said. "You were granted a special pardon after five years. I haven't seen you since." "Section Thirty-One," he said. She nodded. "I must have been very desperate." "You loved Starfleet. In five years, you became my Chief Science Officer. Leslie Willis stepped aside so fast, I thought she hurt something. You served well. I promoted you to Lieutenant Commander. Every last one of us testified for you, those two out there included. It didn't mean a damn thing." Phil shrugged. "They had more time to prepare their case." "That wasn't it. You always told me you had an ace in the hole, but you were afraid to use it." "Not afraid, Admiral, I'm not sure it would be right for a Starfleet officer to do something like that." "You never told me what it was," she said. "I don't think you'd like it." "I hate it when you say that." He felt the need to chuckle. "I'm proud of my counterpart. I'm glad he didn't use it." "He couldn't," she said. He tilted his head at her. "We were still five years from home. We were in the Alpha Quadrant but not close." She sighed around the memories. "The Borg attacked the Federation. Starfleet ordered you into Astrometrics. We set up a replicator, a bathroom, a shower, a bed, everything for you. You were there for a month without communication. Just you and Pathfinder. When you walked out, you told me you were going to prison. The next thing we heard, the Borg had been defeated. The Federation was safe. When we returned home, they took you into custody before the celebration even began." She scowled at her memories now. "It was your ace, wasn't it?" He nodded. "You said you'd tell me one day. Why did the Federation abandon its savior?" "They didn't. I don't know how to defeat the Borg. My counterpart did his duty, as a good Starfleet officer. I'm sure he knew the consequences. And Starfleet Command did their duty, as they saw it. I'm actually glad. It's good to know I progressed that far. I do thank you for the warning about Section Thirty-One and their special pardon." "It will be different this time," she said. "The Borg haven't attacked. You still have your ace." "Yes, and I must make the choice to use it or not. I must decide what is right for a Starfleet officer." "You were the best Science Officer I ever had. That should tell you what's right." "Unfortunately, I don't have my counterpart's years of service to draw on. I'm still struggling with the question." "Your admiral is ordering you," she said. He smiled. "My admiral is also breaking the Temporal Prime Directive. Maybe you didn't make me better. Maybe I made you worse." "Oh, god," she said with a laugh. "I hate it when you do that. Promise me one thing, promise me you'll tell her one day." "I promise." "You'll be getting out of here. They need your help to install the new systems." "No, they don't." "They do if I say so." "Yes, Admiral." "And, Phil," she said, standing. "If I don't see you again, I enjoyed working with you." "Thank-you, Kathryn. I enjoyed most of my time on Voyager." She called to the guard and left. -- Constable Katie, ASC* Archive team Archive: www.trekiverse.org | trekiverse.crosswinds.net | qcontinuum.trekiverse.net Submissions: submissions trekiverse.org For archive updates: ASC-Archive-annc-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ASC* FAQs: http://trekiverse.crosswinds.net/FAQs/ ASC Stories-Only list: ascl-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCEM Stories-Only list: ascem-s-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Fri Jul 09 22:41:22 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n13.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.68]) by mamo (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bIXBK5Ea3NZFk71 for ; Fri, 9 Jul 2004 08:48:16 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13805-1089388093-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com eceived: from [66.218.66.30] by n13.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 09 Jul 2004 15:48:13 -0000 X-Sender: asc-l@ix.netcom.com X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 41762 invoked from network); 9 Jul 2004 15:48:12 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.172) by m24.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:12 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.123) by mta4.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:12 -0000 Received: from h-66-167-46-192.phlapafg.dynamic.covad.net ([66.167.46.192] helo=localhost) by swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net with esmtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1Bixbe-0006Rx-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Fri, 09 Jul 2004 08:48:10 -0700 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Trekiverse Message-ID: X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.9/32.560 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.123 From: ASC* Archive Team MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Fri, 09 Jul 2004 11:47:33 -0400 Subject: [ASC] NEW VOY 'Lieutenant Keegan, Part 2, the Trial' PG-13 7/12 Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ELNK-AV: 0 Make a clean sweep of pop-up ads. Yahoo! Companion Toolbar. Now with Pop-Up Blocker. Get it for free! http://us.click.yahoo.com/L5YrjA/eSIIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> On Mon, 5 Jul 2004 10:45:11 -0500, in alt.startrek.creative, "Khaliban" wrote: Lieutenant Keegan - The Trial by Khaliban A ST:Voyager story Part 7/12 PG-13 Summary: Is it a crime to be too good at your job? "Written any papers?" Lisa said. "A few." Phil removed a shield control unit and replaced it with the upgraded design. "I want to read them." Lisa pulled out a gel pack, injected a circuitry upgrade and replaced it. "I'll send them to you." Phil replaced a panel, removed another and began disconnecting another shield control. "You owe me dinner." He stopped his work and inched around in the Jeffries tube. "You're right, I do." "B'Elanna said you cook." Lisa continued working, never looking at him. "Yes." He turned back. "My mother made a very good sayyadiya." "I know a recipe. I'll have to replicate the ingredients." "Officer's Mess at eighteen-hundred." "That may be difficult," he said. "I'll speak to the captain." He sighed. "I'll be there." They crawled out of the Jeffries tube to a waiting security officer. "I have him," the officer said. "Jeffries tube three, hatch b. Now moving to hatch d." "Proceed," Tuvok replied over the comm. Lisa stopped the officer. "Lieutenant Munro," she said. "Lieutenant Hununga," the officer replied. "Lieutenant Keegan is preparing a dinner at eighteen hundred hours. Would you join us?" "I would be pleased to," Munro said. "Very good," Lisa said. "If you will proceed to hatch d?" Munro replied and gestured them on. Lisa nodded and followed close to Phil. Four hours later, Phil distributed the plates of fish and rice, and Lisa poured the wine. The small clutch of diners in the otherwise empty messhall waited with eagerness. Lieutenant Commander Tuvok and four of his security officers watched with phasers in hand. "It's not how my mother made it," Lisa commented, sitting at her plate. "It's my sister's recipe," Phil replied. "Was she a scientist, too?" Leslie Willis asked. "No, a writer." "That was true?" Munro said. Phil laughed and nodded. "May I read her work?" Jessica said. "After the trial," he replied. "Not much longer now," Tom said. Leslie groaned. "Oh god, I have to tell my mother I'm married to a Maquis." "You didn't tell her yet?" Jessica asked. "It's not that easy," Leslie said. "She's a commodore." "You told me you told her." Leslie raised her eyebrows and looked for help. "So, Phil," Lisa said. "What was your childhood like? We know so little about your people." "The genetic engineers didn't think our development stopped with birth. We spent our childhood learning everything they could teach us." "Wasn't that difficult?" Tadao said. "Not to have a childhood?" "We didn't know anything different," Phil replied. "But I don't regret it. I still learn everything I can. Now I have a galaxy of knowledge around me." "How many papers did you write back then?" Jessica asked. "One hundred and thirty. Seventy-two were published by others. The remainder are still in archive. I also encoded twenty-six other papers into the written works." Phil smiled. "We liked codes." "I hated your people," Tom said. "My mother's great-grandfather loved his captain. His anger stayed with my family." "I'm sorry about Astrometrics, Tom. I shouldn't have done that." "You're right," he said. "You shouldn't. What the hell. Family forgives." "What was he like?" B'Elanna asked and touched her stomach. "My daughter's ancestor?" "A sick bastard like most of them. He told me he dated human women as a hobby. He died early in the war." Phil took a sip of wine. "He was an electrical and mechanical engineer and built the world's first production model hydrogen fuel cell car." "Llawdden Roche?" Tom said. "I didn't know he was a eugenic. Or that we were related." "What about the other batches?" Tadao said. "Were they all like Khan? I mean, I'm trying to understand why you are like you. I want to be ready when I testify." "I can't give you your answers, Tadao," Phil replied. Tadao shook his head. "I need to understand you, so I can evaluate you, Phil," he said. Some of the others nodded at the statement. "We're going to testify, Phil," Lisa said. "We need to know what we're talking about." "I'm not sure if that's a good idea for you, Lisa," he replied. "Why not?" she said. "I don't want them turning you into another Marla McGivers." The people at the table stopped eating and stared at Keegan. "What?" he said. "We don't do that in the Federation, Phil," B'Elanna said. "Oh," he replied. He turned his wine glass. "I'm sorry." Jessica sipped her wine and said, "You told the captain the eighth and ninth batches also had emotional development." She let it hang as a question. "Yes," Phil said. "The eighth batch didn't turn out well. They were mad geniuses. A hundred Fermis that seemed to be everywhere all the time. Only three of them survived to the Trials. One of them apologized for taking up everyone's time." "That guy?" Tadao said. Phil nodded. "Batch nine may have been the worst of them. They believed they were superior, but they were cautious. They picked their battles. Khan took only one batch nine with him. That didn't surprise me. Those two were always close. That war would have turned out very differently if Khan had been one of them." His voice began to fade and his eyes drifted to the gold distortions in his glass. "My batch did the best they could." "Were they all like you?" Munro asked. "No. My sister Gescilene was the best of us." "What did she design?" Leslie asked. Phil shook his head. "Nothing. She was an emergency room surgeon. She saved hundred of unimportant lives, often waiving her fee. She helped anyone she could." He sighed. "She would have understood your world much better than I do. She would be so much a part of you now, you wouldn't care where she came from." He lifted his head. She died six weeks after the probe took me." They finished eating in silence. Everyone carried their dishes to the kitchen except Phil. Lisa took his. With the meal ended, he was required to remain visible to the guards. Tuvok ordered Phil to one of the doors. Lisa followed at a respectable distance. The guards at the door did not move. "I don't believe any of it," the closest said. "I'm sorry," Keegan replied. Tuvok said, "Ensign, step aside." The officer didn't turn. "The Nobel Committee is considering asking my family to return the medal." "I'm sorry," Keegan said again. "What gives you the right?" the ensign asked. "Ensign," Tuvok said. "You will step aside." The officer stepped back, and Keegan continued on. As Phil passed, the second officer said, "You're just like him." Phil turned so fast, only Tuvok could follow the motion. Keegan took the officer by the tunic and shoved him against the bulkhead, screaming, "I am NOTHING like Khan Noonian Singh!" "Lieutenant," someone said from the door. "What the fuck do you want?!" Phil turned and closed his eyes with a sigh. "My apologies, Captain." "Put Ensign Kruger down," she said. "I'm not holding him in the air." "Then let go of him." she replied. Phil complied. "Thank-you. I believe your dinner break is over." "Yes, sir." "If everyone has eaten," she said, "Everyone should return to their duties. I don't believe we have the time for more recreational activities." She turned to Tuvok. "I'll have a moment alone with the lieutenant." "Yes, sir," Tuvok said and followed the others out. "I'm sorry, Captain," Keegan said. "I don't pretend to understand you, Mister Keegan. This is not easy on anyone." She watched him. "Not on any of us. I need to know something. We are about to enter a most difficult area. I need my best pilot." Phil sighed. "Your people never understood that. I am better than you in a lot of ways, but I am not better at everything. Khan would say that. I know I'm imperfect. Tom is your best pilot." "Thank-you, Lieutenant. I believe you." She stepped to the door and called for Tuvok. Two new officers led Keegan away. What was it her counterpart said about him? Too much and not enough. Damn bitch. * * * STARDATE 55059.01: Two Months Before The Trial Anzhelika Ponomarev graduated third in her class. She held degrees in law and history. She surged to the rank of Commander early and held it, refusing captaincy or higher and the judicial positions those ranks offered. Early in her career, she selected the defense chair. Her superiors complimented her decision as her medals showed. When Voyager returned, and the announcement was made of the eugenic's trial, she condemned the actions of Starfleet and called for the immediate dismissal of Keegan. Admiral Chauhan approached her personally for the defense. To convince her, he provided records of her husband. He, and by extension her son, were descended from a eugenic. According to Keegan's information, he was a fifth batch named Borritz. She shouted, she screamed, she pulled away from her husband's touch. Her husband took one of her medals from its display and threw it to her. Excellence in the Service of Truth. She took the job. She entered his cell and shook his hand quickly. "Lieutenant Keegan, my name is Commander Anzhelika Ponomarev. I will be your defense attorney." "Commander, it will be pleasure working with you, but I prefer to defend myself. I will need your help as co-counsel, though." She raised her eyebrows. "You speak Russian, and very well." "I speak seventeen languages, average by the standards of my family," he continued in Russian. "The Universal Translator is wonderful, but I miss the variety of voice." "I admit," she said, "It's nice to use the native tongue once in a while. I don't recommend defending yourself, though." "You can't know my case as well as I do." "I know Federation law." "So do I," he said. "I learn quickly. Seven years was more than enough." "Well, I can't stop you." She removed several PADDs from a briefcase. She tossed them to him across the length of the cell, describing each in turn. "Here is a list of your charges with all pertinent references. Here is a list of possible witnesses. This is a complete account of the statutes you've described along with a list of cases involving each. Some of the cases are more recent than Voyager's memory." "Starfleet transmitted a lot of this information in a large block," he said. "I'm sure this is complete. I will go over it later. I need to talk to you now." "About what?" "For one thing, you're cowering from me. You can step closer. I won't hurt you." "It takes a little getting used to." "If you are afraid to sit next to me, it will weaken my case." She stepped closer and sat down on the cot. "I am a Starfleet officer. I will do my duty." "Thank-you." "As your co-counsel, I recommend you take a deal. I've seen their offer. It's very generous." "No. I will not be moved from this." "Philip," she said, forcing the word, "It is not in your best interest. They will imprison you. You have admitted to your crimes." "I have been reprimanded for some of them already." "They have taken that into account. But, this isn't your century. Double Jeopardy doesn't work the same way. We don't reward deceiving the court. They won't include those charges, but they will consider your actions when determining your sentence." "I know this." "Mister Keegan--" "Lieutenant." "What?" "Always call me 'Lieutenant Keegan'," he told her. "I want them to remember I am an officer." "Of course," she said. "You need to know, the tribunal will consist of admirals currently serving on the Federation Council." He whistled. "They want this done right. I didn't realize I warranted that amount of attention." "I'll assume you want the prosecution to proceed first." "No. I'll go first." She shook her head. "Even in your day, they recognized the benefit of presenting second." "That's not the case here. I know what the prosecution will do. I know what parts of my past they will discuss. I need to prove my humanity to the tribunal before the prosecution can show me as a devil. If I don't cushion the blow, I'm lost." "Your past is that bad?" she said. "Of course your past is that bad. What have you done?" "Much of it falls under the protection of war. I was responding to attacks from others. My batch did as little as possible to help the other eugenics. I also need to show the contributions we made." She winced. "A lot of people are upset by what you've revealed." "It doesn't matter what the general population thinks. The tribunal will view it correctly." "Your unpublished papers have been pulled out of archive." "Good," he said. "Some of the ideas were published by others." "Those scientists are innocent. It's a case of simultaneous discovery." "Good. I'll make that information public." She took a slow breath. "I am required to inform you that you are not allowed to mention Section Thirty-One." "I understand." "They also guarantee Section Thirty-One cannot approach you." "Or abduct me." "Yes. And, they recommend that you continue to use your telepathic shield." She picked up a PADD. "Now that we have that out of the way, what do you need me to do?" "I have a list of witnesses." "I'll get them. A third of Voyager's crew has offered to testify." "That's more than I expected." "Admiral Janeway's testimony will carry particular weight." "Admiral? From captain? That's impressive." "Starfleet promoted about half the crew. Most of the Maquis had their honorary rank made official." "That's good to know." "I need to know this," she said. "How much like Khan are you?" "That is a very good question. I am more like him than I want. I have spent the last seven years trying to change that. But we were raised the same way. That can be difficult to overcome." "The prosecution will use that." "So will I," he said. "Please be ready for it." She lowered the PADD. "It would be best if I knew more." "Not in this case." "Very well, but don't lie to me. Ever. I will quit if you do." "I can accept that," he replied. She searched through the PADDs, finally finding the one she needed. "Are these all the contributions of the other eugenics?" "No," he said. "Some of them will be more difficult to take. I want to reveal those during the trial." "The prosecution will contest admissibility without some prior disclosure." "It's not the prosecution that worries me," he told her. "Some people will try to suppress the information or hide the evidence. I can't allow that." "Why would they do that?" "I've received more than a hundred letters demanding I recant my authorship of the Unclaimed Thesis. One of them was signed by two-thirds of the Daystrom Institute's Physics Department. Some of the other information has a greater following." "Like what?" "My sister's novels, for one. She wrote two-hundred and twenty-six of them." "Wow. That's the same as--No!" "Her daughter." "That can't be. She was born in twenty-thirty-four." "She was the daughter of two batch ten eugenics. She had a three-hundred year lifespan. She published the novels under her mother's name. In her original 'life' she worked as a literary historian. She also published her father's symphonies, claiming--" "They belonged to her brother." Anzhelika lowered her head to her hand. "God. No wonder her books were so dark. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." "Don't worry." He let the information sink into her before continuing. "The event in 'Diary of a Child's Moment' was real." "What?" Her voice wavered. "It all happened, just as she described it." All she could say was, "Oh." * * * Simone Brown graduated near the middle of her class, but she rose in rank faster than the valedictorian or any of the others. She took the most difficult cases she could get, pursuing the truth and the safety of the people of the Federation as passionately as any deepspace explorer. Many years earlier, she prosecuted Tom Paris. His father wanted it done right, without a hint of bias. A way of teaching his son. She begged for the opportunity to prosecute Philip Keegan. She found many of his comments disturbing. Reviewing her own life, third generation Starfleet with enough officers in her family for a tactical fleet, she realized she had never dated outside of Starfleet. Her studies prevented dating before Academy acceptance. Afterward, she found only other officers could keep up with her mentally or physically. Then there was the revelation about that book. "When I was twelve, I wanted to marry you," Commander Brown said. "That's a tough book to read at twelve," Phil replied. "It took several tries. I strongly considered science because of 'Kieron McCray'." "I'm sure you chose the right path," he said. "In light of this evidence, I'm willing to improve your deal. The tribunal has agreed." "I believe you." The commander closed her eyes and shook her head. "I can see why you frustrate Admiral Janeway so much." "Commander, I want to remain in Starfleet for more reasons than those described by my sister. I will not leave unless forced out." "I believe you," she replied. "I understand why you hate Khan so much, but you don't need to pay for his crimes." "First, you don't know why I hate Khan. Kashmira left out the worst part of that event, and she didn't have the chance to include some later details. Second, it's more than just Khan's crimes." "There's...worse?" she asked. "You have no idea." "Very well," she said. "Mister Keegan--" "Lieutenant." "Lieutenant Keegan, are you certain that what you are doing is in the best interest of the Federation?" "No, I believe what I am doing is necessary." "As you wish. You understand, my sympathy for you will not interfere with my responsibilities." "I understand, Commander," he said. "I expect nothing else." "Understand this as well, a painful past does not make you a good officer. Starfleet considers revenge a poor motivation," she told him in a steady voice. "It's not revenge, Commander," he replied. "To be honest, I don't want the job if I don't deserve it." Her head tilted to one side. "You don't actually know, do you?" "A Federation trial is about finding the truth." "I look forward to it, Lieutenant." -- Constable Katie, ASC* Archive team Archive: www.trekiverse.org | trekiverse.crosswinds.net | qcontinuum.trekiverse.net Submissions: submissions trekiverse.org For archive updates: ASC-Archive-annc-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ASC* FAQs: http://trekiverse.crosswinds.net/FAQs/ ASC Stories-Only list: ascl-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCEM Stories-Only list: ascem-s-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Fri Jul 09 22:41:22 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n32.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.100]) by cockatoo (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bIXBP1Wp3NZFkl0 for ; Fri, 9 Jul 2004 08:48:20 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13806-1089388095-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com eceived: from [66.218.66.28] by n32.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 09 Jul 2004 15:48:18 -0000 X-Sender: asc-l@ix.netcom.com X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 15415 invoked from network); 9 Jul 2004 15:48:14 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.166) by m22.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:14 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.123) by mta5.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:14 -0000 Received: from h-66-167-46-192.phlapafg.dynamic.covad.net ([66.167.46.192] helo=localhost) by swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net with esmtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1Bixbg-0006Rx-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Fri, 09 Jul 2004 08:48:12 -0700 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Trekiverse Message-ID: X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.9/32.560 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.123 From: ASC* Archive Team MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Fri, 09 Jul 2004 11:47:36 -0400 Subject: [ASC] NEW VOY 'Lieutenant Keegan, Part 2, the Trial' PG-13 8/12 Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ELNK-AV: 0 Make a clean sweep of pop-up ads. Yahoo! Companion Toolbar. Now with Pop-Up Blocker. Get it for free! http://us.click.yahoo.com/L5YrjA/eSIIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> On Mon, 5 Jul 2004 10:45:30 -0500, in alt.startrek.creative, "Khaliban" wrote: Lieutenant Keegan - The Trial by Khaliban A ST:Voyager story Part 8/12 PG-13 Summary: Is it a crime to be too good at your job? STARDATE 55244.86: Tenth Day of The Trial "Admiral Janeway," Commander Ponomarev said, "Please describe your relationship with Lieutenant Keegan." "I served as his commanding officer for seven years." She understood why Lieutenant Keegan chose Ponomarev to question her, but she was embarrassed that it was necessary. "How did you come to view him?" "For most of that time, I barely knew him." "Yes," Ponomarev said, "An away mission brought him to your attention. How did he perform on that mission?" "He risked his life to save another officer." "Yes. Ensign Nureek. We've heard his testimony." Ponomarev rose from her chair and walked to the front of the table. "You ordered him to design a method of helping the Quagaar. How did he do?" "Very well," the admiral said. "Better than your Chief Engineer, in fact." "The problem was one of geology, not engineering. Lieutenant Keegan was better suited to the job." "You planned to promote him to the bridge, is that correct?" The admiral nodded. "During gamma shift, yes. I wanted him at the science station." "Why?" "He could do the job." "So could many others. Why him?" Janeway looked over at Keegan, then back to the commander. "I felt he showed a lot of potential." "How do you feel now?" "I feel the same." Ponomarev shrugged. "Is it really a lot of potential?" "What?" Janeway asked. "He's a eugenic. Is he really showing more potential than he's worth?" "I don't understand." "As a eugenic," Ponomarev continued, "He's not really showing potential. He never risked his life to help Ensign Nureek. The Quagaar problem never challenged to him. What did you reward?" Janeway scowled. "I rewarded his dedication," she said. "You said you rewarded his potential. Did he show his true potential?" "No," Janeway said, looking at Phil again, "He held back." "Then, what did you respond to?" "He did his duty," Janeway said, "Whether he wanted to or not." "Thank-you, Admiral." Ponomarev returned to her chair. "Admiral Janeway," Commander Brown began, "You consider Lieutenant Keegan a good officer?" "Yes," she replied. "And you would serve with him again?" "Yes." "He lied to you. Often. He falsified information and corrupted Voyager's database. How can you forgive that?" "His lies were personal, not professional. The information was likewise personal. I have the right to withhold embarrassing information from my commanding officer, for example." Commander Brown contemplated the admiral. "What do you believe is his worst crime?" The admiral sighed. "Interfering with the development of a sentient." "The ship's doctor?" "Yes," Janeway said. "Why is that his worst crime?" the prosecutor asked. "It violated the Prime Directive," the admiral answered. "Didn't you yourself violate the Prime Directive your first day in the Delta Quadrant?" "Yes," Janeway said. "Please," the commander continued, "Explain the difference." She spoke in an even tone without sarcasm. "I did it to help the Ocampa." "And Lieutenant Keegan?" "Lieutenant Keegan," the admiral said, "Reprogrammed the Doctor to help himself." Brown paused over the words. At last, she said, "Tell us about the mutiny." "Lieutenant Keegan took control of Voyager to prove a point," Admiral Janeway said. "Did it work?" "Yes." "What exactly did he prove?" "That he did not need to command those around him," Janeway said. "Why did he even think of it?" the commander said. The admiral glanced at the tribunal. "I am not permitted to answer that fully," she replied. "Yes, of course. But, was his action necessary?" "No," Janeway said. "What should he have done?" "As a Starfleet officer, it was his duty to provide his captain with any information the Federation deemed important." Commander Brown said, "And that included his background, whether he fell under the scope of the regulation or not?" "Yes." "Why?" "Because," Janeway said, "He was a Starfleet officer. At the very least, he had the responsibility to tell me my questions entered personal territory. Instead, he deceived me." "What would you have done, had he told you?" "Put him in the brig and had him watched." "That was hardly in his best interests," Commander Brown said. "His interests were not the issue." "Then, as a Starfleet officer, he doesn't have the right to defend himself?" The admiral scowled openly at Commander Brown. "Not when it interferes with his duty." "He did his duty when saving Ensign Nureek." "Yes, he did." "Does he have the right to pick and choose when he will obey his oath?" "No. Starfleet regulations are clear." "Thank-you, Admiral." "Defense?" Admiral Chauhan said. "Thank-you, Your Honor," Ponomarev said. "Admiral Janeway, when you discovered what Lieutenant Keegan was, what did you do?" "I ordered him stunned on sight." "Was your action justified?" "No. I owed him the same loyalty I owed any member of the crew." "Have you been charged for your action?" "No." "When did Philip Keegan alter the Doctor's programming?" "In his third month aboard Voyager." "Was the Doctor sentient at that time?" "I don't know." "Doctor Zimmerman himself testified that was unlikely." "I trust his answer." "Then tell me, when does Lieutenant Keegan's crime begin?" The admiral sighed. "When Mister Keegan realized himself that the Doctor had achieved sentience." "When was that?" Ponomarev said. "I don't know," the admiral said slowly. "Is the Doctor sentient now?" "I believe so." "Can you prove it?" "No," Janeway said. "I cannot." "Doctor Zimmerman also testified that the amount of influence from Lieutenant Keegan's addition to the Doctor's program was minimal. Does that matter?" "I don't know." "You altered the Doctor yourself, didn't you?" Ponomarev said. "His ethical subroutine entered a feedback loop. Lieutenant Torres made the actual change." "How is this different?" The admiral lowered her head while she thought. "Mister Keegan's action was selfish," she said at last. "Would the Doctor withhold Lieutenant Keegan's secret if asked?" "He is programmed for doctor-patient confidentiality." "Yes," Ponomarev said, "What would cause him to violate that?" "Evidence of a crime." "Is Lieutenant Keegan's eugenic heritage a crime?" "I don't know." "In your opinion," Ponomarev said, "Could the Doctor know?" "Do you mean, is he programmed for it?" the admiral asked. "No. He is not." "Would he have informed you of the Lieutenant's background?" "He might." "Would he have that right?" "I don't know," Janeway said. "Did you consider these factors when you punished him for this act?" "No." "What did you consider?" Ponomarev asked. "I believed Lieutenant Keegan was a good officer trying too hard to prove himself to those he felt stood in judgment of him. I believed he made a mistake of innocence." "And now, would you alter his punishment?" "No," the admiral said plainly. "Thank-you, Admiral." * * * "Ambassador," Keegan said, walking to the door of his cell, "This is most unexpected." "I am not pleased to be here," Ambassador Spock replied. "The solidarity created by the Dominion War between the Federation and the Romulans has allowed me this time away from my work. I did not wish to spend that time sitting in defense of a eugenic of old Earth. I believe I have experienced more than enough of your people." "I apologize, Ambassador. You are correct, of course. I know more than any the difficulties Khan could create for those around him. What he did to you and those aboard the Enterprise are but the least of his crimes." "His crimes and yours are not dissimilar," Spock said. "'Never argue with a Vulcan'. Commander Chakotay once mentioned that," Keegan said. "You are correct again. I am not arguing innocence, Ambassador, I am arguing motivation." "I know neither your mind, nor that of Khan." "It is not your place to know, sir. It is your place to deliver testimony. The tribunal sits in judgment. You can provide information of particular importance. That is all I ask." The ambassador shook his head. "You understand, your claims are difficult to believe." "Yes, Ambassador. Tell me this, can you imagine what Khan would have been like as an elder sibling? Or as a surrogate father?" "Supposition in the absence of sufficient information is not logical." "Damn Vulcans. Again, yes. I can tell you, sir, no one from the Enterprise could hate Khan as much as I do. That is not supposition." Spock regarded the statement with slow precision. "I am not pleased to see one of your kind in a Starfleet uniform, but I wore one long enough to know the duty it commands. I have reviewed your career aboard Voyager. It is a dichotomy, but one that supports your claim. But, you also had access to Voyager's historical records. You are certainly intelligent enough to learn from Khan's mistakes. I will present the evidence you ask. That is my duty. I will also consider the possibility you are deceiving the tribunal. If I see evidence of that, I will make that information known." "You understand humans very well," Keegan said. "Do you understand penance?" "I have seen it." "I have lived it for seven years. I will not deceive anyone. I want very much to prove I am what I claim." Phil lowered his eyes and raised them again with determination. "Tell me how he died." "You have read the records." "I have," Phil said. "I want to know what he was when he died." "He was a man who pursued the mechanism of his own failure." Phil sighed, slow and stuttering, a primal release. "Thank-you, sir. That is more than I hoped for. When this trial is ended, I would like to speak with you again on a very different matter." "Perhaps, Lieutenant. You remind me a great deal of someone I once met. I am interested to discover just how similar you are." "So am I." * * * "...His final act was to attempt to destroy the Enterprise," Spock told the court. "And your response?" "I gave my life for my ship and crew." "Tell me, Ambassador," Keegan said, "Have you reviewed my analysis of the history of the Vulcan people?" "I have," Spock said. "Do you consider the ideas valid?" "They are worthy of investigation." "How similar are eugenics to Vulcans?" "Vulcans are slightly stronger and faster. Endurance and intelligence are comparable." "And, you are telepathic." "There are human telepaths, though they are rare." "And not as gifted," Keegan said. "It is not a gift. It is a quality of the species." "But, your species is superior." "That is not an accurate conclusion," Spock said. "What is the accurate conclusion?" "Lieutenant, you know as well as I that a perfect determination cannot be made. You are asking why Vulcans are allowed into Starfleet and eugenic humans are not. Eugenic humans have shown mental instabilities. Vulcans have not. Humans, in fact, are the only known species to use eugenic manipulation. If my long distant Vulcan ancestors manipulated themselves to this point or evolved here naturally is not known. We may never know. However, Vulcans can control their emotions and deal more effectively with their advantages. Humans do not show that same capacity. You wish to know if you remind me of Khan. You do not. Neither do you resemble a Starfleet officer. Lieutenant, you control your advantages better than Khan. That is all I can say." "Thank-you, Ambassador," Keegan said. Commander Brown stood. "The prosecution has no questions for this witness." "Very well," Admiral T'Lara said. "Ambassador, the court thanks you for your time." * * * "Lieutenant," Ambassador Spock said. "You are a curiosity." "Is that good?" Keegan said through the security field of his cell. "I did not apply morality or quality to the comment. It was only an observation." "I want your approval, Ambassador. I want to know what you value." "I value the truth. I value logic. I value what helps the many. I thought you would know that." Keegan nodded. "Yes. I hoped you valued redemption." "Redemption is a selfish act. Do not redeem yourself, Lieutenant. Do what is right for the people of the Federation." "I struggle with that, sir. I hope I will select the correct answer." "I doubt I will be here to see that," Spock said. "I will likely die on Romulus. I suspect you are honest about your origin, but I am not certain that fully frees you from your heritage." "No, Ambassador, you are correct, it does not. That will require vigilance and determination." "That is the most correct comment you have made, Lieutenant. I hope you will succeed." * * * "Did you reprimand Lieutenant Commander Data for his action?" Keegan said. "No," Captain Picard replied stiffly, "I did not." "Please tell the court why." "Lieutenant Commander Data believed he protected a developing sentient lifeform. It is the duty of Starfleet to seek such life, not order it to its death." "Are they alive?" Keegan asked. When Picard did not answer, he said, "Captain? Are they alive?" "Further study indicates only a rudimentary intelligence, but enough to justify Mister Data's actions." "Those actions did not bother you?" "No. He did his duty as a Starfleet officer." "That duty permitted him to put your life at risk?" "Yes," Picard said. "If I served aboard your ship, how would you react to my actions?" "Dismiss you immediately," the captain said. "Why?" "Your crimes were selfish." "How so?" "Objection, your honors," Commander Brown said. "Lieutenant Keegan is fishing for rationalization. Jean-Luc Picard was not his captain and does not sit in judgment of him." "I agree," Chauhan said. "Mister Keegan, keep your questions more relevant." "Yes, sir," Phil replied. "Captain, do you fear Lieutenant Commander Data?" "No," Picard said harshly. "Why not?" "He has proven himself to me." "Did you fear his brother?" "What?" Picard said. "Did you fear Lore?" Keegan pressed. "I was aware of the danger he represented." "How was Data's construction different from that of Lore" "Your honors," Brown said. "This will all be made clear when I question Mister Data," Keegan said. "This tribunal is not fond of tricks, Lieutenant," Chauhan said. "Keep that in mind. Captain, you may answer." "The difference is one of programming only," Picard said. "How would you, as Mister Data's commanding officer and friend, define the difference?" "It is," Picard said, "one of character." "Thank-you, sir." "No questions," Brown said. "Your next witness," Admiral Pek told Keegan. "Lieutenant Commander Data." Data took the stand. "Mister Data, I asked you to review my analysis of Starfleet Academy. What are your conclusions?" "Your analysis has merit." "Describe the differences between the Academy and the eugenic program that developed me." "The Academy was not a conscious effort at eugenics. Development in the Academy is also much slower and does not exhibit the same emotional instability that affected many of your kind," the android replied. "Very good," Keegan said. "Tell me, Mister Data, are you more intelligent than me?" "Yes." "Are you stronger?" "Yes." "Are you faster?" "Yes." "Longer lived?" "Potentially." "Why?" "Well," Data said, "For one, my servo motors generate--" "No, Mister Data," Phil said. "Not how. Why? Why are you stronger than I am?" "I do not understand." "I know how your body is stronger than mine. I am asking you why. Why did Doctor Noonien Soong make you that strong?" "I do not understand." "Is your strength necessary for your operation?" "I must be capable of movement to perform my duties." "The same could be said of a lawn mower. Could you still function--" "Objection, your honors," Brown said, rising. "Mister Keegan is badgering a respected and decorated Starfleet officer. I move--" "Objection overruled, Commander," T'Lara said. "We will hear this out." Keegan waited for permission from the court before continuing. "Could you still function," he said, "if you were only as strong as a normal human?" "Yes," Data said. "Or as fast as a human?" "Yes." "Or with the lifespan of a human?" "Yes." "Then," Keegan said, "Why are you stronger than me?" "My father designed me that way." "Yes, he did. He also designed your brother that way, did he not?" "Yes." "Your brother was shut down and you were built because Lore frightened the colonists of Omicron Theta. Is that correct?" "Yes, it is," Data said. "Would Lore have been as frightening if he did not have his superior physical abilities?" "I do not believe so." "If Doctor Soong knew those physical abilities made humans nervous, why build you the same way?" "I do not know." "Speculate. You are the foremost authority on Soong-type androids and Doctor Soong himself. Why would he do this?" "Perhaps he felt safe with my programming." "Why not simply transfer Lore's brain to a weaker body?" "My brother would have rebuilt his original body," Data said. "Why?" "He did not want to be...," Data said, looking at the tribunal, "To be as weak as a human." "Isn't that eugenic manipulation?" "He is an android." "Yes, Commander, but isn't it the android equivalent of eugenic manipulation?" "Objection," Brown said. "Mister Data is not an expert in eugenics." "Mister Data holds a degree in exobiology," Keegan replied. "The court will hear Lieutenant Commander Data's analysis," Admiral T'Lara said. Data continued, "One could argue that interpretation." "And," Phil said, "If that interpretation is valid, you yourself are eugenic. Is that correct?" "That is also plausible." "Should you be in Starfleet, Mister Data?" "It is not my duty to make that determination," Data said. "No, it is not. It is the duty of a Federation tribunal. Will you request such a tribunal?" "No," Data said. "Why not?" "I want to remain in Starfleet." "Thank-you, Mister Data." Phil returned to his seat. Commander Brown stood and walked to the center of the room. "Mister Data," she began. The commander tapped her PADD. "Commander?" Data said cautiously. "Have you ever placed your own interests above that of the Federation or the crew of the Enterprise?" "Once, when my brother deactivated my ethical subroutine." "Have you, of your own free will, acted against the people of the Federation or violated the regulations of Starfleet?" "No, Commander," Data said slowly, "I have not." "Thank-you, Mister Data." -- Constable Katie, ASC* Archive team Archive: www.trekiverse.org | trekiverse.crosswinds.net | qcontinuum.trekiverse.net Submissions: submissions trekiverse.org For archive updates: ASC-Archive-annc-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ASC* FAQs: http://trekiverse.crosswinds.net/FAQs/ ASC Stories-Only list: ascl-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCEM Stories-Only list: ascem-s-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Fri Jul 09 22:41:22 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n23.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.79]) by mamo (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bIXBO4uk3NZFk72 for ; Fri, 9 Jul 2004 08:48:20 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13807-1089388097-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com eceived: from [66.218.66.27] by n23.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 09 Jul 2004 15:48:17 -0000 X-Sender: asc-l@ix.netcom.com X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 66559 invoked from network); 9 Jul 2004 15:48:16 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.172) by m21.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:16 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.123) by mta4.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:16 -0000 Received: from h-66-167-46-192.phlapafg.dynamic.covad.net ([66.167.46.192] helo=localhost) by swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net with esmtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1Bixbi-0006Rx-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Fri, 09 Jul 2004 08:48:14 -0700 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Trekiverse Message-ID: X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.9/32.560 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.123 From: ASC* Archive Team MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Fri, 09 Jul 2004 11:47:39 -0400 Subject: [ASC] NEW VOY 'Lieutenant Keegan, Part 2, the Trial' PG-13 9/12 Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ELNK-AV: 0 Yahoo! Domains - Claim yours for only $14.70 http://us.click.yahoo.com/Z1wmxD/DREIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> On Mon, 5 Jul 2004 10:45:53 -0500, in alt.startrek.creative, "Khaliban" wrote: Lieutenant Keegan - The Trial by Khaliban A ST:Voyager story Part 9/12 PG-13 Summary: Is it a crime to be too good at your job? "Doctor Bashir," Phil said. "How long have you served in Starfleet." Bashir, his head turned away, watched Keegan sideways. "Ten years," he said. Keegan stepped forward and Bashir winced. "You are eugenic yourself, are you not?" "Yes," Bashir said. "Doctor, are you a Starfleet officer?" "Yes." "Please act like it." Bashir's head snapped forward, his eyes wide. He straightened his back and tugged his tunic into place. "Thank-you. You are also an expert on eugenics. Tell me, what do you think of my analysis of Starfleet Academy?" "If any manipulation exists, it is not intentional." "I am not arguing intent, Doctor. Is the analysis valid?" "It is possible, but I cannot support it one hundred percent." "What percent can you support?" Keegan asked. "Perhaps seventy," Bashir said. "Have you suffered much discrimination since Starfleet discovered your status?" "Some, not much." "Describe it." "Objection, your honors," Brown said, "Doctor Bashir's difficulties have no bearing on Mister Keegan's actions. He was not aware of Doctor Bashir's status when he committed his crimes." "The objection is sustained," Admiral Chauhan said. "Yes, sir," Keegan said. "Doctor, you have worked extensively with other eugenics. Are they all emotionally unstable?" "No," Bashir said slowly. "You were, in fact, able to help one of them, were you not?" "Yes, Sarina Faith." "The other eugenics predicted the Federation would lose the Dominion War. Is that correct?" "Yes," Bashir said. "Then, a eugenic can be--" "Now!" someone yelled from the back of the gallery. Keegan, Bashir and the rest of the court turned to the noise. A tall redheaded woman in a security uniform stood up in the back of the room. "Now, Bashir!" she said. Julian groaned. The woman started forward, her eyes on Keegan. Two security officers intercepted her. She slid past one and twisted the other to the ground. When more security pressed toward her, a mature cherub of a man, dressed as an admiral, ran past the guards. One guard tried to stop him. He tripped her and jumped over her, landing in a clutch of Voyager's crew. Tuvok caught and controlled him. While the struggles occurred, Keegan scanned the front of the gallery. He stopped on a man dressed as a captain. The man's eyes gleamed wide, and he jumped at Keegan. "Jack, stop it!" Bashir said. Jack punched at Keegan. In a single move, Phil blocked the fist and struck Jack across the jaw. Jack fell back. He paused for an instant and leapt at Keegan with both feet. Phil caught him and shoved him hard into the ground. Phil held Jack in place. "He's killing me!" Jack yelled. He twisted and screamed in agony. "Look at him! Look at what he's doing! Ahhh!" "Lieutenant?" Chauhan asked. "He's faking it," Phil replied in a calm tone. "Stop it, Jack," Bashir said. "He's killing me! He's killing me!" "Stop it!" Bashir said. "Your faking it. We can all tell." Jack stopped struggling and turned toward Bashir. "You can?" "Yes. Now, stop it." "He can't be allowed to exist," Jack said. "Why is that?" Commander Brown asked. "He's a murderer. He's killed thousands. Millions." "No, I didn't," Phil said, but he sounded angry as if caught in a lie. "You designed the fusion reactors!" Jack yelled. "I helped to design them," Phil said in a flat voice. "But Khan ordered their detonation. I was half-way to the Delta Quadrant then." "Millions died because of you!" "Over a billion," Phil said. "He admits it!" Jack screamed. "We already knew it, Jack," Bashir said. "What?" "He confessed those actions before the trial," Bashir continued. "He did?" "Yes." "All of them?" No response. Keegan pulled Jack to his feet and pushed him at a Vulcan security officer. "The defense would like to request a brief recess," he said. "All of them?!" Jack said. Keegan walked through the clutch of people to the defense table. "Everything?!" Jack yelled. "You're fishing for an answer," Keegan said. "But there is an answer." "That," Phil said, "is the responsibility of the prosecution." "Tell me!" Jack screamed. "Why?! So you can find out if you're exactly like me?" Jack winced away. His companions cringed and lowered their eyes. Bashir ignored the reactions of his former patients in favor of the clear self-loathing in Philip Keegan's face. "Your honors," Commander Ponomarev said, "The defense has requested a short recess." "Yes, Commander," Admiral Pek said. "This court is in recess for thirty minutes. Security, remove these people." While security pulled the eugenics from the room, Anzhelika Ponomarev leaned toward her client and whispered, "Phil--" "Thank-you, Lika," he said. "I was doing my duty." "I know," he replied, "Thank-you." Thirty minutes later, and with more security in the room, Lieutenant Keegan continued his questioning. "Have you continued your professional relationship with Sarina Faith, Doctor?" "Yes," Bashir said. "I examine her once a year to see if there is any change in her behavior." "Has her emotional state deteriorated?" "No." "Then, Doctor Bashir, it is possible for an advanced eugenic to be emotionally stable." "Yes, but Sarina and the others haven't received as much manipulation as you." Bashir stopped on his own words. "Wait. That doesn't--" "Thank-you, Doctor," Keegan said. "Tell me, why did your parents have you altered?" "How could that be?" Bashir continued. "You were--" "Doctor! I will ask the questions." "Yes, Lieutenant. I...I was suffering in school because of my inadequacies." "Tormented because of them? Particularly considering the reputation of your parents?" "Yes." "How many people suffer from averageness today, Doctor?" "Obviously, there's a range of the best and worst." "Are the worst rewarded in today's society?" "No." "Are they condemned?" "Children can be cruel," Bashir replied. "Yes. I know. What about adults?" "Very rarely." "Yes, it is a more tolerant society." "Exactly." "Then, you had nothing to worry about when you reached adulthood." "I suppose not." "Do you enjoy your abilities, Doctor?" Keegan asked. "Enjoy them?" "Yes. Your understanding of medicine, for example. Do you feel a thrill when you discover something new or when you read a particularly insightful paper from one of your colleagues?" Bashir lowered his face. "Yes. I do." "Do you have that right?" "The right?" "Do you ever feel guilty knowing you may be stealing someone else's discovery?" "Stealing?" "Yes, Doctor. If you had not discovered polytransitional recombinant cellular cohesion, for example, someone else would have. You, in effect, stole the discovery from that other researcher, whoever that might have been. Does that make you feel guilty?" Bashir answered with a nervous nod. "Your 'natural' colleagues, do you think they feel guilty?" "I don't think so." "What is your crime? What causes your guilt?" Bashir sighed and spoke as if the answer were old for him. "I cheated." "And, your colleagues did not?" "Yes." "Why is that?" "They were born with their abilities." "So what?" "I'm sorry?" Bashir said, his head at a tilt. "Is your surgical ability cheating when you save a life?" "Yes." "Do the patients care?" "Some of them, yes." "Do you care?" "I feel guilty, as I said." "Do you think about that while you're helping them?" "Yes." "Does it stop you?" "No." "Are you glad you are able to help them?" "Yes." Keegan smiled at a distant memory. "What are we, Doctor?" "Eugenic." "Yes. What does that mean? We had no choice in what we became. What are we? What do we represent?" "Vanity," Bashir said as if familiar with the answer. "We represent the vanity of our parents." "What is the strongest species in the Federation?" "That's difficult to say exactly. There are many forms of strength," Bashir said. "In a general way," Keegan replied. "As you would classify strength." "The Horta." "The longest lived?" "The Medusans." "The most intelligent?" "The Vulcans." "Tell me, Doctor, what advantage do I have over those races?" "I don't know," Bashir said quietly. "What advantage do you have?" Bashir turned his head in thought. "None," he said. "Why did you apply to Starfleet when you knew it was illegal?" "I wanted to serve in Starfleet, and I wanted to help people." "Why did you want to serve in Starfleet? Helping people could be done anywhere," Keegan said. "Because it's Starfleet. It's special." "Thank-you, Doctor." Phil returned to his seat. "You have quite a list of deceptions to your name, Doctor Bashir," Commander Brown said. "Yes," he replied. "Your father paid for those deceptions, didn't he?" "Yes, he did." "Did you ever alter medical records to hide your nature?" "Not exactly. As a doctor, I knew how to confuse the sensors." "Did you ever rewrite computer records or delete files?" "No." "Did you ever misrepresent your abilities?" "Yes," Bashir said. "But never with a patient." "Did you ever take control of a starship or Deep Space Nine to hide your identity or make a point?" "No, never." "Did you ever put anyone at risk--" "Objection," Keegan said. "Lieutenant Commander Tuvok and Lieutenant Torres have proven Voyager and her crew were not at risk while I was in control." "The objection is sustained," T'Lara said. "Yes, sir," Commander Brown said. "Doctor, have you ever lied directly to a superior officer?" "Directly? No." "Are you afraid of Lieutenant Keegan?" Bashir lifted his eyes to Keegan. "Yes." "Why?" "He likes what he is." "Why would that frighten you?" "I was salutatorian of my class, because I was one of the best. I have been asked if I intentionally failed to get valedictorian. I didn't. That wouldn't be the case with Philip Keegan. He would place himself exactly where he needed to be. He would choose his position because he could." "Phil?" Commander Ponomarev whispered. "Do you have an objection?" Admiral T'Lara said. "No, sir," Keegan replied. "Please, Doctor," Commander Brown said, "Continue." Bashir took a breath and let it go. "I believe Mister Keegan has decided where he wishes to be in Starfleet. He has created a scenario for it. He will get what he wants, because we cannot know how to stop him." "We are pawns?" "No. Not pawns. We are elements of the equation. I don't think he can view us as human. I don't think he can understand what we mean to ourselves and our society. I don't think he can understand what humans have become. I think he is the worst thing I have faced." Bashir stopped. He looked around the floor, trying to find his answer. "No. He is like something I faced. He is like the Founders. He has that same disregard for the sentience of others." "That's a very strong comment, Doctor. Can you justify it?" Brown asked. "No," Bashir said quietly. "Thank-you, Doctor." "Redirect?" Keegan said. T'Lara nodded. "Doctor, do you know why I hate Khan Noonian Singh?" "I've read 'Diary of a Child's Moment'." "That tells you what he did to my siblings and me. Some of it, anyway. Do you know what he did to me?" Bashir shook his head. "How did you feel about the Founder that replaced you?" Bashir tried to respond, but failed. "Now, imagine you grew up with him and, at the age of six, looked at him as your hero. How would you feel?" "Objection," Commander Brown said. "I don't see how this has relevance." "Sustained," T'Lara said. "Any other questions, Lieutenant?" "No, sir." After he was dismissed, Bashir walked toward the exit but stopped near the defendant's table. "I don't hate the Founders," he said. "Who do you hate?" Keegan replied. "I hate what happened." "Thank-you, Doctor. I think you do understand me." * * * STARDATE -342376.59: May 18, 1981 "Thank-you, Kashmira, that was very insightful," the teacher said. Like all the teachers on the island, he was also a genetic engineer, a fifth generation eugenic, and the biological father of one or two of the eugenic children. "Gescilene, can you describe the similarity of reincarnation imagery as used by Li Po and Marot?" Gescilene did not answer. Instead, she looked toward the door of the classroom. Philip Keegan, sitting behind her, followed her head and saw Allyn McPherson enter the room. "Mister McPherson," the teacher said. "How may I help you?" "I'm sorry, father," he said. McPherson and the teacher looked nothing alike. "I'm afraid you've become a problem." "Problem?" the teacher asked. McPherson took him by the head and snapped his neck. He turned to the children. "Bury him," he said. "And dig enough graves for all of them." He spoke in a gentle tone, without anger. Phil and Gesci, closest to the teacher, stood and picked up his body. They carried him out of the building, followed by a long line of their siblings. More batch ten children, with bodies in hand, met them at a large, unused field. Shovels arranged like a pyre awaited them. The children dug without voice or tear. When the first group was buried, Khan walked out and ordered half the children back inside to get the rest. "What do we do?" Kashmira whispered. "Shut up!" Phil said. "Dammit, Phil--" Kashmira started. "Shut up! There's more than enough room here for us." Phil pretended to wipe sweat away. "Try writing something." "Do you--" Gesci began, "Do you want to talk about reincarnation imagery?" She responded to her own question by stabbing her shovel blade and two inches of handle into the ground. She scooped out a block of dirt the size of her ribcage and tossed it onto a pile. Phil jumped into a grave and pulled in one of his mothers. He lay her flat on the soil, crossed her arms and, with a snap, straightened her head. He closed her eyes and climbed out. Nathari began to whistle. Slow and steady, he created a requiem as he worked. The slice of his shovel set the tempo. Phil, Kashmira and Gesci picked up the refrain. Others down the line collaborated in tone. A symphony of fifty voices and fifty shovels and more bodies than they wanted to count. Days later, Phil sat in the library. Once a week, each child was given three hours alone to pursue themselves. Khan, it was said, rewrote Sun-Tzu and applied it to the instincts of Alexander. Kashmira wrote novels. Nathari transcribed his music. Gescilene studied surgical techniques. Phil usually read physics journals, but not this week. A large unread stack stood at one end of his table. A small finished stack lay turned over at the other end. In the center of the table, an eight year old boy cried for his parents. -- Constable Katie, ASC* Archive team Archive: www.trekiverse.org | trekiverse.crosswinds.net | qcontinuum.trekiverse.net Submissions: submissions trekiverse.org For archive updates: ASC-Archive-annc-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ASC* FAQs: http://trekiverse.crosswinds.net/FAQs/ ASC Stories-Only list: ascl-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCEM Stories-Only list: ascem-s-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Fri Jul 09 22:42:08 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n22.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.78]) by cockatoo (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bIXDIrg3NZFkl0 for ; Fri, 9 Jul 2004 08:50:17 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13810-1089388105-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com eceived: from [66.218.67.195] by n22.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 09 Jul 2004 15:48:25 -0000 X-Sender: asc-l@ix.netcom.com X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 15565 invoked from network); 9 Jul 2004 15:48:24 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.218) by m2.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:24 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.123) by mta3.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:24 -0000 Received: from h-66-167-46-192.phlapafg.dynamic.covad.net ([66.167.46.192] helo=localhost) by swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net with esmtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1Bixbk-0006Rx-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Fri, 09 Jul 2004 08:48:17 -0700 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Trekiverse Message-ID: X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.9/32.560 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.123 From: ASC* Archive Team MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Fri, 09 Jul 2004 11:47:42 -0400 Subject: [ASC] NEW VOY 'Lieutenant Keegan, Part 2, the Trial' PG-13 10/12 Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ELNK-AV: 0 Yahoo! Domains - Claim yours for only $14.70 http://us.click.yahoo.com/Z1wmxD/DREIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> On Mon, 5 Jul 2004 10:46:26 -0500, in alt.startrek.creative, "Khaliban" wrote: Lieutenant Keegan - The Trial by Khaliban A ST:Voyager story Part 10/12 PG-13 Summary: Is it a crime to be too good at your job? STARDATE 55434.01: Eighteenth Day of The Trial "Gordon's Island, near Borneo," the computer said. "A mass grave of four hundred and forty-eight people was discovered on this island in twenty-seventeen. The site was dated to between nineteen seventy-seven and nineteen eighty-three. No reason was found for the grave. The event was attributed to the eugenics, but without solid proof." "The defense wishes to enter this information into record," Keegan said. "So noted," Admiral Pek replied. "The defense calls Captain Montgomery Scott to the stand." The fifty year space veteran walked to the witness chair with a snarl and a grunt. He sighted down the length of the room and watched Keegan rise and walk around the defense table. Keegan gave the captain a moment of unrestrained hatred before he began. "Captain Scott--" "You'll get no help from me." "Captain," Admiral Chauhan said, "You may be retired, but you are still a Starfleet officer. I expect you to do your duty." "Aye, sir," the captain said. "Ask your damn questions," he said to Keegan. "Thank-you, Captain. Do you fear me?" Captain Scott ground his teeth hard. "Yes." "Why?" "Why?!" "Yes, Captain." "What the hell do you mean 'why'?!" "Captain Scott," Chauhan said, "Please control yourself." "Aye, sir," he said. The captain turned to Keegan. "I fear you for what your kind did." "My kind, Captain, but not me. What did I do?" Captain Scott watched Keegan in silence. "Captain, what did I ever do to you?" "Not a damned thing," he said. "So, you fear Khan." "Aye." "Why?" "Is that your question?" "Captain," Keegan said. "Please respond." "He tried to kill the captain, is all. And killed my own nephew. And Mister Spock. Is that reason enough for you? He tried to take the ship. When he couldn't get it, he tried to destroy it. Is that reason enough to fear him?" "No," Keegan replied, "It is not. The people you mentioned were all Starfleet officers. They knew the risks." "The hell they did! My nephew was a cadet. He didn't know a damned thing." "He knew to stay at his post." "Damned straight! And it got him killed." "Shouldn't he be commended for that?" "No, damn it! He should be alive." "But, he was Starfleet. He knew the risks when he applied." "The damn scientists didn't!" "Scientists?" Keegan asked. Simone Brown and Anzhelika Ponomarev leaned forward together. Their eyes met. For the first time, Anzhelika saw the cunning of her client. She didn't like it. "Aye," the captain continued. "The scientists of Regula I. He killed them, tortured them! I saw the bodies. Do you have any idea what he did to them?!" "Yes," Keegan replied, "He tortured me the same way." Captain Scott's face drained of blood and anger, and he fell back. "Objection," Commander Brown said. "Move to strike." Keegan turned his head around toward Commander Ponomarev. He raised an eyebrow at her. She spoke in a stilted voice. "A spontaneous declaration from the defendant is always admitted." "That was not spontaneous!" Commander Brown said. "The declaration occurred in open court without prompting from the prosecution," Ponomarev continued. "It should be admitted." Chauhan, watching Keegan, said, "The defense co-counsel is correct. The statement will be admitted. Mister Keegan, I assume you have no further questions for this witness." "No, sir," Keegan said. "I do not." "This court stands in recess for the next twenty minutes," Chauhan said. "Mister Keegan, I suggest you take the time to speak with your co-counsel." Back in the holding cell, and alone with her client, Anzhelika Ponomarev tried to pace away her anger. "What the hell were you thinking?" she yelled. "I needed them to know the information." "Not like that!" "I needed them to understand." "By embarrassing a legend of the Federation? Are you insane?" "They needed to hear it." "Hear what? What did he do? Why did he do it?" "I cried. We all did when our parents were killed. The scientists would torture us for an hour each week, so we would not fear pain. Khan increased it to three hours every day until we stopped crying. He took three sessions with me himself. He was very professional in his work." "Tell them that, for god's sake. That's what you do in the Federation. Tricks like this, manipulations, are wrong. Do you have any idea how much you've hurt your case?" "No," he said simply. "I made myself believe you belonged in Starfleet. I'm not sure now. When we go back out there, you damn well better do things the Federation way." "I understand." "That ace, can you still use it?" "Yes, but I don't know if I should." She exhaled as much anger as she could. "You must do what is right." "I am beginning to understand that," he said. When they returned to the courtroom, Admiral Chauhan asked Keegan to explain his comment. He did. Then the admiral asked Commander Brown if she had any questions for Captain Scott. She did not. "Mister Keegan?" Chauhan said. Keegan stood. "The defense rests," he said. "Very good," Chauhan replied. "Is the prosecution ready to begin?" "Yes, sir," Simone said. "The prosecution calls Voyager's Emergency Medical Hologram." The Doctor walked down from the gallery to the witness chair. He sat, scowled briefly at the defendant and tilted his head toward the prosecutor. "Tell me, Doctor," Commander Brown continued, "How long have you believed you were sentient?" "For about five years." "According to Doctor Zimmerman, that is unlikely." "My 'father' has some restricted notions about the development potential of my program. Why, five years ago, I had already acquired an interest in opera and the classics. I developed advanced medical techniques. I studied holography, my own existence, philosophy--" "The defense concedes the Doctor's personal development," Keegan said. "Thank-you," T'Lara said. "Commander Brown, please continue." "Yes, sir. Doctor, how do you regard Lieutenant Keegan's action?" "The lieutenant took from me my right to choose. He stole a portion of my sentience." "Explain please," the commander said. "Scientists define sentience as possessing intelligence, self-awareness and consciousness. I disagree. I believe it is the act of desire. A machine does not want. I do. I want to live. I want to think. I want to feel. I want to improve myself. With desire comes choice. My program will hold only so much. I must choose which information I will learn and which skills I will possess. If I choose to learn an opera, I must leave out a musical. My desires define me, so my choices define me. Lieutenant Keegan took my right to choose." "Did you have the right to choose?" Brown asked. The Doctor shrugged with excess. "I am not an admiral, no. I do not know Federation law as well as I might. But, I do know doctor-patient confidentiality." "You also know you must tell your captain of any illegal acts whether confidentiality applies or not. Could you resolve this issue?" "As I said, no. I would hope the lieutenant would think enough of me to trust me." "What if you were wrong? Could you take that chance?" Simone Brown said. "You had the ability to destroy a man's life. Did you have the right to make that decision? Would any doctor, flesh or otherwise?" The Doctor tilted his head to the side in deep contemplation. "No," he said. "No doctor would." "Does that excuse his act?" "No," the Doctor said slowly. "He should have found another method." "Such as?" The Doctor started to answer, paused and started again. "I don't know. I don't know the extent of his skills." "You leave him very little alternative." The Doctor paused again, with more flair. "I was not to blame for his situation. I should not have been made a victim of it." "Thank-you, Doctor." Commander Brown returned to her chair. Commander Ponomarev began to stand, but Keegan put a hand on her arm. He stood in her place and walked to the middle of the room. "Tell me, Doctor," he began, "What do you think your decision would have been?" "It's difficult to speculate." "I trust your ability to do so," Phil said with a smile. "I might have reviewed your life aboard Voyager up to that point." "And?" "You did not seem to show too much mental instability." "Then, Doctor, tell us your decision." "I would need to know if you posed a threat," the Doctor said. "Did I?" "I'm not certain." "Guess, Doctor. What would you have thought?" "Objection," Brown said. Keegan turned around, clearly surprised. "The Doctor's program suffered a breakdown from an ethical feedback loop," Commander Brown continued. "The lieutenant's questions may cause another breakdown." "Lieutenant?" T'Lara said. "That was not my intention," Keegan said slowly. "Doctor," T'Lara asked, "Do you feel you can continue." "Yes," he said. "With respect to the prosecutor, I am perfectly safe." "Very good," Brown said. "Lieutenant," T'Lara said, "Please continue." "Doctor," Keegan said. "What is your answer?" "Some of your actions appeared suspicious." "Were they?" "I don't know." "How long do you think you would wrestle with this question?" "I can't say." Phil sighed carefully. "Could you ever answer this question?" "I don't know." "Is your duty more to the ship or your oath as a doctor?" "They are the same if you posed a threat." "Did I?" The Doctor paused, tilting his head and spreading his hands. "I'm not sure." "Are you not sure because of my actions in the last five years or the two previous?" "I don't know." "Then or now?" "Either," the Doctor replied. "Then, if I had asked, would you have accepted the subroutine willingly?" The Doctor arched his eyebrows and turned his head to one side. Then he arched them again and turned his head back. "I believe I would," he said. "But how would you ask me?" "The memory buffer on the holodeck," Keegan said. "What?" the Doctor replied. "When you use the holodeck, your active memory is stored in the buffer. I could have extracted that memory into the holodeck and asked it. It would not have access to your core program and would suffer because of that. Had I asked it the question, its decision would match yours to within ninety-seven percent." Commander Brown stood. "The prosecution asks Doctor Zimmerman to confirm that value." Zimmerman stood and walked to the edge of the gallery. "Doctor Zimmerman?" T'Lara asked. "I estimate ninety-four to ninety-six percent," he said. "Thank-you, Doctor," T'Lara replied. "Lieutenant, please continue." "I have no further questions," Keegan said. "Redirect?" Chauhan asked. Commander Brown shook her head. "Doctor, you may step down. Commander, your next witness." "I'm sorry, Lika," Phil whispered. "For what?" "For not telling you this." "The prosecution calls Sarina Faith," Brown said in a clear voice. Sarina, shy to the point of non-existence, slipped down from the gallery almost unseen. She pulled herself back into the witness chair and kept her eyes well away from Lieutenant Keegan. She was sworn in and smiled at Simone Brown. "Professor Faith, I asked you to research Lieutenant Keegan's claims and his background prior to his abduction by the Caretaker. Could you tell us your findings?" She nodded and took a quick, shallow breath. "Philip Keegan attended the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and earned Master's degrees in physics and mathematics. He also assisted in the development of the first fusion reactor." "Was he responsible for the design used to detonate the reactors?" Brown asked. "No," Sarina whispered and shook her head for emphasis. "Though I consider it unlikely that he did not know of its existence." "Is he the author of Cochran's Unclaimed Thesis?" "Yes," she replied with a nod. "Anything else?" Sarina turned her face and body toward Philip Keegan. "He murdered a man in cold blood in nineteen-ninety-two." Simone and Anzhelika spun toward Phil. The admirals, the gallery, the eyes of Kathryn Janeway all moved to him. He didn't twitch. He hardly blinked. "Well done," he said softly. "Objection, Lieutenant?" T'Lara said into the heavy silence. "None, your honor." His eyes remained on Sarina. "Commander Brown," T'Lara said, "Please continue." Simone did not respond. "Commander, are you able to continue?" "Yes," she said. "My apologies to the court." She straightened her tunic with a snap. "Professor, why did no one else find this information?" "Someone hid it very well," Sarina replied still watching Phil. "How could that be?" "He was acquitted. Some assumed his disappearance was the result of revenge. No further action was needed." "Why was he acquitted?" Simone asked. "According to the medical examiner, no human could do that much damage to a person's skull without mechanical help. No machinery was found." "Is that analysis true of a eugenic?" Sarina finally turned her head to Commander Brown. "No," she said. "How did the victim die?" Simone asked. "I shoved his skull into a stone wall," Phil said. "Why?" Sarina said softly. Phil drew a deep breath and let it drain out of him. "Do you know how much I hate Khan Noonian Singh?" "Lieutenant," Chauhan said, "If you have pertinent information, please enter it into the record." "Has the prosecutor completed her questioning?" Phil asked. "Yes," Brown said. "No further questions." "Lieutenant?" Chauhan said. "Professor Faith, do you fear me?" "Yes," she replied. "Why?" "You don't know what you are," she said. He laughed, slowly. "I wish that were true." * * * STARDATE -331186.81: March 9, 1992 Phil hefted the four-hundred pound bar to his shoulder and shoved it above his head. He began to grunt and moan beneath the weight. He paused, repositioned his hands, scratched his nose, and put his free hand back. "Philip," Khan said with a tilt of his head. Phil shook his head and tossed the bar down. It hit off angle and cracked a groove into the floor. Khan picked up the bar in one hand and walked back to Phil. He put his hand on Phil's shoulder. "I understand your feelings, Philip, but we must do what is necessary." He set the bar down in front of Phil. "They are not ready for the full knowledge of us. Please continue." Phil took a water bottle and squeezed an amount into his mouth. "I don't care if they ever know," he said. Khan's perpetual smile froze, and his eyes tightened. "They will know well enough, Philip. They will welcome us." "They will welcome you. I'm just a guy who's good with numbers." "Well said!" Khan laughed and knocked him in the shoulder. "One of the foremost physicists of our era." "Hawking has me beat any day," Phil replied. Khan exhaled through a determined smile. "Yes," he said, his mouth still in its smile, "He is very good. The world is lucky to have you both." Phil pressed a towel into his face, dabbing sweat he did not have. "I think luck only applies to one of us." "True enough," Khan said. "But the world will be pleased with you both." "Perhaps they will," Phil said. "I need to go. I'm meeting the cadets." "That's not for some time." "I want to look my best." "I want you ready for the exhibition," Khan said. Phil shrugged. "I was born ready." Khan laughed well, but his eyes never lost focus. Some time later, two dozen hopeful cadets stared up the dry brown length of the unpainted launch engines of the DY-70 planetary transport. Far in the back, one cadet raised his hand and looked at Keegan. "Why a submarine?" he said. "Submarines make the most efficient use of space," Phil replied. "We could copy their schematics almost exactly into the design of the transport." A woman raised her hand. "How important is the physical portion of the training?" Some of the cadets laughed. "Very," Keegan replied. "We have no idea how difficult the trip will be for the crew. All the knowledge in the world can't help you if your body won't do the job." "Equal importance, then," she said. "Yes," Keegan said. "Any more questions?" "Will we be training on the space station?" "No," Keegan said sharply. "I'm sorry. We'll be using a mock-up." "How long will the trip take?" Phil sighed. "If the ion drive works, only a few weeks." "How will selections be made?" He sighed again. "Highest scores for the first trip to improve the chances of success. I'll let you look at the ship now. You can't go in yet, but it doesn't hurt to look at it." The cadets picked around the engines and massaged the ship. "Well done," Khan said beside Phil. "They are a good group." Phil turned around. "What's that?" he said of the bundle under Khan's arm. "The new uniforms. Do you like them?" "It's not really my color." Khan smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. "You'll look fine." "Doctor Keegan?" a cadet said. She was pretty, with Chinese features and an American smile. "I'm not a doctor," Phil said. "Oh. I'm sorry. I read your last paper. I just assumed..." "I'll have my doctorate by the end of the year." "Of course. Anyway, it's a pleasure working with you. Your work is brilliant. I hoped I could discuss your paper with you. I wrote an analysis of it, you know." "Yes, I read it. You failed to account for some of the infinities in your results." "Really? Well, it will be something to work on during the trip, won't it?" "If you manage to get a spot." "Will you be going on the mission?" "No," Phil said. "As an instructor, I'm not eligible." "Oh, that's unfortunate." She stalled against her thoughts. "Well, I would still like to discuss your work. If you'd like. If you have the time." "Yes, I would like that." "And, Doctor Singh!" she said. "I know you're a doctor. It's an honor to meet you." "Thank-you, my dear. And congratulations. Only the best and brightest are allowed in here." "Yes." She looked at Phil. "The very best." Khan slapped Phil's shoulder again. "I am very proud of my cousin." "Cousin?" "By marriage," Phil said flatly, as if by rote. "Now, my dear, you should return to the others," Khan said. "There's much more to do." She nodded and walked away. "I don't think Gescilene would mind," Khan said in a low voice, his eyes on the cadet. "Gesci would cut them off, sew them back on and cut them off again." Khan chuckled. "Never lament a strong-willed woman, Philip." "I'll remember that." "Be happy, Philip. That vessel will soon take humanity to Mars. That attractive young woman may be among them. It is better, don't you think, for them to prepare the way for us?" "As you wish, Khan." "Philip, Philip," he tsked. "I thought you loved them. Are your passions so easily turned?" "No, Khan. I am glad for them." He looked at the cadet. "I wish them all the best." "And they will thank us for that. Their gratitude, their love, is not so unpleasant." "Yes, Khan, you're right. I have all that you've described. I have everything they could want. All they need to do is ask for it." Khan nodded. "Well said, Philip," he whispered gently. "Well said indeed." Many hours later, Phil stood alone in the gymnasium. He tapped the top of a CD player and one of his brother's concertos began to play. He jumped up to the rings and began his routine. He was not in the gymnastics competition, but he enjoyed the rings as an exercise. He moved so the crack of the straps matched the beat of the music. At one point, when inverted, he saw the door of the gymnasium close and a figure move into the room. He twisted as he fell so he faced her when he landed. "That was very impressive," the cadet said. "It's a hobby," Phil replied. "You're not supposed to be here this late." "Really?" she said. "I was told it was allowed. I'm sorry." "Don't worry. It won't get you kicked out." He leaned over and turned off the music. "That was nice," she said. "I'll tell my brother you liked it." She shook her head. "You have an amazing family." "Thank-you," he replied and picked up the player. "Truly amazing. In everything you do. I mean that." "Yes, I know. Thank-you. Did you want to use the equipment?" "I just wanted to say..." she took a breath. "How proud I am to work with someone like you." "Yes. Thank-you." He threw a towel over his shoulder. "I'm proud to work with someone like you, too." "Someone like me?" "I had a privileged upbringing. You earned your place here. I envy that." She put her hand on his arm. "I really, really mean what I'm saying. I'm very glad I'm working with you." He put his hand over hers, holding it against his skin. "Do you dance?" he said. "Yes," she said quickly. He put the player down and selected a track. A waltz began to play. Phil pulled her into position. She lay her head against his chest and they began to move. Two hours later, she clutched his chest and whimpered in pain as he carried her into the ER. He called out for help and laid her on a gurney. "What is it?" a doctor said, the last doctor he wanted to hear. "I think her pelvis is broken," he replied. "How did this happen?" Gesci asked. Before Phil could reply, the cadet yelped. Gesci saw to her injuries, gave her a pain killer and called for x-rays. "You'll be fine," Gesci said. "What..." the cadet winced. "How..." "It's okay. My brother only does this with women he likes." "Brother?" the cadet said in a surprisingly clear voice. "By marriage," they replied together. "Oh," she said and waited. "The...mission." "You're not off the team, but you won't recover in time for the first trip," Phil said. "I'm sorry." "I understand. I just... Why did you do that?" "I got excited," he said. "We're taking you to x-ray, now," Gesci said. "Thank-you, Doctor." A man took hold of the gurney, said some reassuring words, and pushed her down the hall. "Phil," Gesci said, "I'll be back in a moment." "Gesci?" He said and followed her to a locker room. "Gesci, let me apologize." Once the door shut, she yelled, "Mother-fucker!" and punched a locker. Her fist yanked the locker door from its hinges and pushed it two inches into the back panel and into the locker behind the first. The lockers wobbled from the impact. "It's this again," Phil said. "Shut up, Phil." "Tell me." "SHUT UP!" She threw her fist at him. He caught her punch and held it until she pulled her hand away. "Tell me, Gesci," he said, shaking the sting out of his hand. She panted against his words. "Damn it!" he yelled and hit the lockers with his fist. He dented the corner four inches deep and twisted the lockers hard against their base. "What is it?! It's two damn years of this. I want to know." "That goddamn bastard." "That's a given," he said. "Did he know you were on duty?" "God, Phil, he called me in." She sat down with a shudder. "And I thought this was all for me." She laughed, dry and empty. "Why fuck over one when you can fuck over a hundred?" He dropped to his knees in front of her. "Tell me," he whispered. "Please." She closed her eyes and twitched at the memories. "He was awake," she said. "Who?" "The saboteur from the fifty launch. I gave him enough sedative to knock out even you. None of it worked. He was awake through everything I did, watching me." She took a breath. "And Zi, never one to leave a blade untwisted, told me how much he admired my technique." "Gesci--," Phil said. "Doctor Amarel?" an orderly asked, walking into the room. "Is everything all right? Do you need any help?" "I'm fine, Tony," she said. "Are you sure?" He looked at the room. "Yes," she replied. "Should he be in here?" Tony asked. "Yes, Tony. My brother would never hurt me." "Brother?" "Yes, Tony," she said. "If you don't mind, this is family business." "I'm...sorry, Doctor. If you need me, call." "Thank-you, Tony." He turned to leave, but more hospital staff had crowded against the door. One, a surprisingly young and well built Chief of Staff, examined the damage to the lockers. "Gescilene, are you having some difficulties?" he asked with a smooth lilt. "No," she said. "Philip?" Phil was still on his knees, struggling not to hold his sister. "None at all." "I don't think you should be in here, Philip," the Chief of Staff said. Gesci stood and smoothed her coat. "I need to check on my patient." When she passed the other doctor, he said, "One of Philip's cadets, isn't she?" "Yes," she replied. "Do your best, Doctor Amarel. We want her ready for space." Phil remained on the ground until the room emptied. He left the hospital with his hands crushed into fists and looked for something to break. He found Tony. "I don't like the way you treat her," Tony said. "I'll keep it in mind," Phil said. Tony had two inches and thirty pounds on Phil. He made his weight known. "I don't want Doctor Amarel hurt the way you hurt that girl." "God, if you only knew," Phil whispered. "What?" Tony asked. "You're not her type, Tony," Phil said. "Give it up." Phil tried to move around him. Tony put a finger against Phil's chest. "I don't want you hurting her. Do you understand?" Tony said. Phil took Tony's finger and squeezed. Tony winced, then cringed, then gasped, then grunted and began to drop. He finally cried out in increasing volume as he slid down, pounding Phil's stomach all the way. "What are you doing?" Gesci said, walking toward them. "Crushing his distal phalanx," Phil replied without turning. "I can see that. Why?" "He irritated me." "This doesn't help. Let him go." Phil released the mangled finger. "Go back inside, Tony," Gescilene said. "Doctor--" he began. She grabbed his shirt and yanked him up. His eyes widened when his feet left the ground. He landed standing but mute. "Go inside and get that looked at," she said. "And my brother was right. You don't stand a chance with me." Phil waited until Tony went back inside. "Gesci--" he began. "Don't. Don't bother." "What?" She laughed, tired and painful, an increasingly familiar sound among Phil's siblings. "After the--" she said. "Dissection, I wanted to be with someone who wasn't one of us. A surgical resident was kind enough to accommodate me." "He said you wouldn't mind. I should have known." "None of us have been at our best for a while." "I know." They stood in silence, close but not touching. "Tell me," she said. "Tell you what?" he said casually. "What did grandfather say to him? I know you were there." "Nothing." She sighed. "It's your turn. I get a secret." "It was nothing." "Well, I want to know what the nothing was. Before--" She took a deep breath. "Before he transfers us. I don't think it will hurt if I know." Phil looked one way down the road then back. He looked at the small white buildings of the base and at the hospital entrance. He leaned close to his sister's ear and whispered. "'You turned out well enough for an early batch.'" She cried out and fell against him. "Oh, god," she whimpered. He tried to hold in her shaking. "How bad will it be?" she said after a while. "He doesn't want petty revenge. Not really." "Why did he say it?" "Grandfather? Why does grandfather do anything?" "And us?" she said. "What about us? When...?" She took a breath. "When?" "After Barcelona, if we're very good." "Long enough for Kas to have her baby." He nodded. "I've been trying to draw it out. He's been busy, but that won't last." She hugged her head against his chest. "I want to meet tomorrow. Make the time." "I will," he replied. "And the cadet--" "She'll be fine. I'll be damned if I do anything different because of him." "I meant treat her well. I want her to make it to Mars." "God, you have a hard-on for that place." He groaned at her. "Tomorrow, after classes." "Yes." "And damn the rumors." She smiled. "Finally." He held her until they called her back inside. -- Constable Katie, ASC* Archive team Archive: www.trekiverse.org | trekiverse.crosswinds.net | qcontinuum.trekiverse.net Submissions: submissions trekiverse.org For archive updates: ASC-Archive-annc-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ASC* FAQs: http://trekiverse.crosswinds.net/FAQs/ ASC Stories-Only list: ascl-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCEM Stories-Only list: ascem-s-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! 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Fri Jul 09 22:41:22 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n26.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.82]) by tanager.mail.pas.earthlink.net (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bIXC146N3NZFmQ1 for ; Fri, 9 Jul 2004 08:48:33 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13811-1089388106-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com eceived: from [66.218.66.157] by n26.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 09 Jul 2004 15:48:27 -0000 X-Sender: asc-l@ix.netcom.com X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 60285 invoked from network); 9 Jul 2004 15:48:23 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.166) by m17.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:23 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.123) by mta5.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:21 -0000 Received: from h-66-167-46-192.phlapafg.dynamic.covad.net ([66.167.46.192] helo=localhost) by swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net with esmtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1Bixbn-0006Rx-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Fri, 09 Jul 2004 08:48:19 -0700 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Trekiverse Message-ID: <0hfte09n9mprrh0lnslkknocig4c3m0ohk@4ax.com> X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.9/32.560 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.123 From: ASC* Archive Team MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Fri, 09 Jul 2004 11:47:44 -0400 Subject: [ASC] NEW VOY 'Lieutenant Keegan, Part 2, the Trial' PG-13 11/12 Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 X-ELNK-AV: 0 Make a clean sweep of pop-up ads. Yahoo! Companion Toolbar. Now with Pop-Up Blocker. Get it for free! http://us.click.yahoo.com/L5YrjA/eSIIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> On Mon, 5 Jul 2004 10:47:01 -0500, in alt.startrek.creative, "Khaliban" wrote: Lieutenant Keegan - The Trial by Khaliban A ST:Voyager story Part 11/12 PG-13 Summary: Is it a crime to be too good at your job? The metal legs of the horse cracked and moaned beneath the energetic manipulations of its rider. Philip Keegan, at the door of the gym, watched Joachim in his routine. The blond man finished his spinning and dropped to the ground. "Careful," Phil said. "You might just win." "It's my Barcelona routine. I haven't trained in the exhibition routine for a month." "That should work." "Join me?" Joachim said, motioning to another horse. Phil shrugged and walked to the apparatus. Joachim began his routine again. Phil mirrored his movements exactly. At a handstand, Joachim stopped. "You and Gescilene have been very public lately," he said. "Not much need to hide anymore." Phil followed Joachim through more moves. "Odd, because she seemed upset a few weeks ago." "That was nothing. We had a spat over the cadet." Joachim stopped at the edge of the horse. "Of course," he said. He continued his routine. "Tell me, were you there when grandfather left?" "I was on the other side of the room from you. You might have missed me." "Oh, that's right." He continued the routine. "What do you suppose grandfather thinks about?" "I wish I knew," Phil said and meant it. "Yes," Joachim said. "So do I." He twisted off the horse and landed. "Perhaps you should do gymnastics. They could hardly deny the uniqueness of someone your size winning." "What does Khan think?" Joachim shrugged. "I'll ask." Phil nodded. "I need to train for tomorrow." "Of course. I'll leave the gym to you." He picked up his things. "What were you thinking, second?" "That was the plan, so I'll look like a dark horse." "Good luck." "Thank-you," Phil said. "You'll need it," Joachim said with a smile. The next day, Phil stood at the edge of the deck watching the fifth place lifter push the bar above his head. The successful lift moved him to fourth place. The man, trailing a scent of chalk dust, walked past Phil with a scowl. Phil was at the lowest weight for the category but the tallest of all of them. He looked gangly next to the other athletes. And he was in second place. The smiles and mentor like comments that met him when he arrived were gone. Phil watched the board. Third place was too close. His adjustments within the gap between the two spots felt like the fine vibrations of a violin string. He watched third place push his bar into place with enough weight to hold the spot. "Good luck," a man said next to him, Scaios Savakis, first place and the silver medalist in Seoul. He whispered a curse Phil pretended not to understand and walked away. "He seems nice," Joachim said. He was dressed like a coach and smiled like Khan. "Are you ready?" "Ready enough," Phil said. He walked to the bar and took hold of it. He repeated many of the warm-up actions of the other lifters while playing in his mind the struggle he must affect. He pulled the bar up and felt a problem. Not until he shoved it above his head did he know. The bar weighed too much. Four or five pounds he guessed. Momentum carried the weight into position before he could decide what to do. He dropped the bar, too smoothly, and looked at the board. Four point three pounds too high. Savakis could never make that up. The audience, seeing the weight, applauded. "Well done, Philip," Joachim said. "Yes," Phil replied. Savakis tried and failed to pass Phil and earned fourth place. Phil, to applause and positive commentary, took first. Reporters spoke with him. He was tested for steroids three times and passed each. "The most unexpected event of the exhibition." and other such phrases bounced around the airwaves. But this was weight lifting. Not many people heard. Phil, when the interviews ended, found a bottle of the best wine. He drank and appreciated all of it but felt nothing from it. Savakis, on the other hand, was well in the bag when he found Phil. "You, skinny cheat," he yelled out. His voice ricocheted off the buildings in the empty street. Dark and quiet and far too late at night. Phil was not in the mood. "What is it?" "You tell them you cheated." "Fine, I'll do that tomorrow." "I knew it," Savakis said. "I knew you cheated. What did you use? Blood doping? A new steroid?" "Nothing you could use," Phil said. He tried to walk away. "You tell me what you used." Phil cursed at him in Greek and turned away. That was too much. A heavy fist struck him across the jaw. "Stupid, fucking HUMAN!" Phil said and caught Savakis in the face. Locking his knee, he pushed from the ground, up his leg, through his torso, down the length of his arm, hard enough to lift Savakis from his feet, pushing the weight lifter's head into the wall behind him, stopping only when he felt the crunch. He wanted to wait. He wanted to confess. He wanted to tell everyone. He did none of that. He returned to his hotel room and waited for the sunrise. The policia knocked on the door soon after. At the trial, another Greek athlete testified about the victim's state of mind. He was new to the sport but did surprisingly well in his exhibition matches. He carried with him a disturbing smile. "He was very angry," the translator said. "He said the defendant cheated in the match and bribed the judges." "Did he have proof?" the prosecutor asked. "No, but he said no skinny Irishman could lift so much." "What did you do?" "I tried to calm him down. I told him this was not the Olympics. The Olympic judges could not be bribed. He would be exposed. Savakis would not listen. He was very angry." "Did you try to stop him?" "To stop him from what? I thought he was returning to his room. I told him this was one match, and the Irishman was very lucky. He told me he would go. He told me he would not let this Irishman ruin his day. I did not know to stop him." "What did you do after he left?" "I finished my bottle and returned to my room. I did not know he was gone. We do not share a room. I knew nothing else." "Thank-you," the prosecutor said. "So," Joachim said, standing. "You never saw my client with Savakis. Is that correct?" "Yes." "Savakis lost to Seņor Keegan, yes? How much stronger is he than Savakis?" "He is not. The competition measures what percentage of your own weight you lift. The defendant lifted more of his own weight, but Savakis was much stronger." "Thank-you," Joachim said. Later in the trial, the defense brought in a forensics expert. She was very attractive and remarkably young for someone so respected in her field. Phil wondered how many more would of them appear in this farce. He felt genuinely sorry for the balding judge and the overweight prosecutor. "Describe your findings, please," Joachim said. The witness removed a large photo of the back of Savakis' skull. A woman cried out in the back of the court. Pitch and tone implied a mother. Phil ground his teeth against the noise. The witness explained the amount of damage to the skull and the force required. She described the post-mortem indentation of the face. "Cylindrical and metallic. It did not create the initial wound, but it crushed the bone and tissue to such a degree that it is impossible to identify the murder weapon." Prosecution experts confirmed her findings. Insufficient evidence. The body was too clean. She did it. Phil knew as he listened. She had watched him and cleaned the body when he left. When Phil was acquitted, the prosecutor apologized. Savakis' mother was carried out. Joachim patted him on the shoulder and told him, "Well done." He found Gesci, Nate and Kas in his room when he returned. "I'm sorry it had to be you," Nate said. "So am I," Phil said. "I was looking forward to Barcelona," Gesci said. "So was I," Nate replied. "Where are the others?" Phil asked. "Paired off and trying to find someplace pleasant," Kashmira said. "We're not getting that, are we?" Phil said to Gesci. "I won't let anyone else deliver this child," Kas said, touching her belly. Phil shook his head. "I don't blame you." He took hold of Kas and kissed her deeply. "We still have a good legacy," he said. "We need to go," Nate said. Phil nodded. The brothers hugged. Nate and Kas left. "Phil--" Gesci began. Phil pushed his mouth over hers to stop her. "If you weren't my sister," he said. "Shut up, Phil," she said. "Just shut the fuck up." They had an hour. Not the whole night. Silence and hunger and nothing else. She dressed and left while he packed. Phil rented a car and drove south. He would be easy to find but hard to catch. He'd make them work. The two from the trial he was sure. He'd give time to those that needed it. So would the others with no reason to wait. He bore east. The Riviera, maybe. He'd enjoyed it there. He came to Phil, days later, when he stopped for lunch far off the road. "Philip?" he said. Phil turned without shock or anger. The man was average height with a slim build. He had dark hair and Mediterranean skin and eyes as grey and sharp as flint arrowheads. "Hello, grandfather." "How is my favorite grandchild?" "She's fine. She's in Australia training." The man laughed. "You always had the best sense of humor." "It never did me much good." Phil turned to the wide Mediterranean Sea. "It was you, wasn't it?" "I made a comment to Kahn. He did the rest. I'm sorry. I needed to know." "I didn't. You could stop them." "I used to do things like that. It never turned out well." "Can you do anything?" Phil said. "As a personal request from your second favorite grandchild? Or wherever I am on your list. Can you do one thing for me?" "The children will be fine. I'll even help you retain your anonymity. You'll be remembered for the good you did or not at all." "And Kahn?" "I don't think humanity will need my help." Phil nodded. "Care for some lunch?" he said. "Certainly." A week later, again in the middle of nowhere, Phil lay on a sleeping bag and stared at the stars. He saw one detach and approach him. "What the hell is that?" he said. * * * STARDATE 55439.15: Last Day of The Trial "Commander Brown said prison is for redemption and remorse. She was wrong. I have lived in my own prison for seven years and used that time to fight for Voyager, to help its crew and to help whatever species that asked. I did this to rid myself of what Khan revealed in me. Prison would not change me. I could only do that myself. "In the past seven years, I have done all that I could to redeem myself for my crime. I have tried to help. I tried to be the best Starfleet officer I could. I tried to undo as much of my failures as Khan's atrocities. And I have failed. I did everything as a eugenic. Skills, knowledge and interaction were all easy. I could make myself anything I needed, except a Starfleet officer. I tried to understand you, your culture, what humanity has become. I failed. But every time I learned something new about you, every time I saw my own failures, I wanted to be one of you even more. I once told Captain Janeway that Starfleet was all I could ever want. That was one of my few truths to her. I am not the Starfleet officer you desire. But I will become that officer if given the chance." He sat down. "Do you think it will be enough?" "No," Anzhelika said. It was strange how comfortable his cell felt now. "I understand." "And your ace?" "You mean win for losing? I still don't know." "That's too bad," she said. "You are much better now." "Thank-you." "I hate to ask this, but that cadet--?" "Yes." "So, you were..." "Her autobiography described me as 'faulty exercise equipment'." "Right," she said. "In Starfleet, you learn to bend only the right rules. Consider that." He smiled at her, genuinely happy. "What?" she said. "You have been very helpful to me as a co-counsel." "Damn straight." * * * "With clear knowledge of the rules against eugenics, Philip Keegan entered Starfleet. He did so not for remorse or redemption, not to repair the harm done by Khan, but for his own satisfaction. All that he did, save run Voyager's Computer Core, could have been done as a non-Starfleet crewmember. Mister Neelix and Seven of Nine both served Voyager without ever obtaining Starfleet rank. Indeed, he could hide his secret more effectively without that rank. He could refuse the Doctor's scans. He never needed to corrupt his programming. All that Mister Keegan did could remain in tact without the deceptions, without the crimes. Mister Keegan wants to make up for his own crimes and those of his people. That uniform is not required for that. That uniform serves Mister Keegan. He does not serve it." Simone Brown sighed quietly when she finished and sat down. "Lieutenant?" Admiral Chauhan said. "Your closing argument?" Phil closed his eyes and listened to the advice of his friends and his superior officers. He played back the questions he asked and the answers they gave. He saw the hope in their faces. He saw desire in the eyes of some. He saw what he wanted, and he saw what he needed. He remembered the fear and the pain and the anger of those who knew him better than he liked. He saw himself in a mirror the first time he put on the uniform. He still didn't understand this culture. But that wasn't enough. He opened his eyes. "Stardate five-eight-four-three-point-seven," he said. "Thank-you, Lieutenant," Chauhan said. "We will take this information into consideration. This court is in recess as we consider the case. Ambassador Spock, the Tribunal would like to speak with you." "Of course, sir," the ambassador said. "Sir," Commander Brown said. "Any testimony should be publicly delivered." "Lieutenant?" Chauhan asked. "Defense does not contest this action, sir." "Commander, do you withdraw your objection?" Chauhan said. She turned to Keegan, but he did nothing to help. "Yes, sir. I withdraw my objection." "Very good. This court is in recess." The admirals filed out with Ambassador Spock. Guards approached Phil to take him to the holding cell. "That was it?" Anzhelika said. "Yes." "Well, good luck," she said. "Lieutenant?" Commander Brown said. "Yes?" "I wish you the best." "Thank-you, sir." He was taken to the holding cell. Lunch passed and dinner approached, and they called him back inside. Ambassador Spock watched in the gallery. The crew of Voyager and the witnesses he called waited. Admiral Kathryn Janeway kept her eyes on him but signaled nothing. Finally, the Tribunal entered. "Please stand," Admiral Pek said. "On the charge of entering Starfleet illegally, the Tribunal finds Lieutenant Keegan not guilty. His claim that he is a victim of time travel is valid. On the charges of deceiving a superior officer and altering computer records, the Tribunal finds the defendant not guilty. These acts were committed to hide personal information not bearing on Mister Keegan's right to be a member of Starfleet as previously noted. On the charges of interfering with the development of a sentient lifeform and mutiny, the Tribunal finds Lieutenant Keegan guilty. These acts, however small their impact or duration, are in violation of the laws and purpose of Starfleet. "Lieutenant, the Council considered many possible punishments for your crimes. Eventually, we had to choose between exile and--" "Exile?" Anzhelika asked. "Lika, please," Phil whispered. She shook her head. "Admiral, exile?" "Lika!" Phil hissed. "No. Admiral, the Federation does not exile people." "Commander," Admiral T'Lara said, "May the Tribunal finish rendering its verdict?" "Yes,...sir," she said. "We had to choose between exile," Admiral Pek continued, "And demotion. It is the determination of this court that the Federation would be better served by allowing Mister Keegan to remain in Starfleet. However, we cannot allow his crimes to go unpunished. Lieutenant, you will reduced in rank to ensign and placed on three years probation. During that time, you may not advance in rank or hold a security rating greater than required for your post. You will also not be allowed access to a computer core where not required by your post. "This is the decision of the Tribunal. This court is adjourned." He tapped the bell three times. "My god," Phil whispered, "They were listening." "Yes, Mister Keegan," T'Lara said. "We were." "Yes, sir," he said. "Thank-you, sir." "Ensign Keegan, the Council would like to see you regarding your new post," Chauhan said. "Yes, sir. May I have a moment to thank my co-counsel?" "You have fifteen minutes." "Yes, sir," Phil said. The Tribunal left and Phil turned to Anzhelika. "Lika, I'd like to thank you for all your help." "Your...welcome?" "Don't worry about it, Lika. You did well." "Excuse me," Simone said. "What the hell just happened?" "You won." Phil was smiling and likely wouldn't stop soon. "Yes, how? Forget that. Why? No. What the hell did they mean by exile?" "I'm not allowed to say. Starfleet orders." She blinked at him a few times. "Well, I see. Am I ever going to understand this?" "I doubt that," he said. "But they delivered the right decision." He laughed. "Why the hell didn't I see that?" He spun around. "Lika, I have a gift for you." "That's not required, Phil." "Who the fuck cares?" He handed her a PADD. "My family liked codes." "You mentioned that." "We also hid things. My sister hid a novel in every twenty she wrote. I've extracted them for you. Eleven new novels. You'll be the first to read them." She tapped the PADD and scanned the text. "Oh. Thank-you." She lowered the PADD. "What happened to her? To your niece?" "She lived a third life and began a fourth. She moved to one of the new colonies and died in a shuttle accident at the age of a hundred and seventy-six. I wish I could have met her." "Ensign?" Simone said with a cough. He turned and handed her a PADD. "Three operas, seven symphonies and numerous shorter arrangements. Some of my brother's best work." "Thank-you," she said. I'm... It was a pleasure, Phil." She shook his hand. Phil turned toward the council room and found Captain Scott in his way. "Captain, my apologies for what I did." "See you don't do it again." "Yes, sir." "I want to know, am I one of you?" Phil shook his head. "No, sir, you are not. Neither was Admiral Kirk or Ambassador Spock's mother." "Any of them? Any of my friends?" Phil sighed. "Doctor McCoy was descended from a batch nine eugenic. It's why he lived so long. None of the others." "Aye, I'll guess that'll do. Ye best do that uniform right." "I will do my best, sir." "I'm sure you will." -- Constable Katie, ASC* Archive team Archive: www.trekiverse.org | trekiverse.crosswinds.net | qcontinuum.trekiverse.net Submissions: submissions trekiverse.org For archive updates: ASC-Archive-annc-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ASC* FAQs: http://trekiverse.crosswinds.net/FAQs/ ASC Stories-Only list: ascl-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCEM Stories-Only list: ascem-s-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Fri Jul 09 22:41:22 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n5.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.89]) by bunting (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bIXC93oo3NZFmR0 for ; Fri, 9 Jul 2004 08:48:40 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13812-1089388107-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com eceived: from [66.218.66.31] by n5.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 09 Jul 2004 15:48:28 -0000 X-Sender: asc-l@ix.netcom.com X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 28857 invoked from network); 9 Jul 2004 15:48:25 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.218) by m25.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:25 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.123) by mta3.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 9 Jul 2004 15:48:25 -0000 Received: from h-66-167-46-192.phlapafg.dynamic.covad.net ([66.167.46.192] helo=localhost) by swan.mail.pas.earthlink.net with esmtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1Bixbq-0006Rx-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Fri, 09 Jul 2004 08:48:22 -0700 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Trekiverse Message-ID: <2hfte09iqvj1oimoroqapskompb4000d35@4ax.com> X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.9/32.560 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.123 From: ASC* Archive Team MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Fri, 09 Jul 2004 11:47:47 -0400 Subject: [ASC] NEW VOY 'Lieutenant Keegan, Part 2, the Trial' PG-13 12/12 Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ELNK-AV: 0 Yahoo! Domains - Claim yours for only $14.70 http://us.click.yahoo.com/Z1wmxD/DREIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> On Mon, 5 Jul 2004 10:47:26 -0500, in alt.startrek.creative, "Khaliban" wrote: Lieutenant Keegan - The Trial by Khaliban A ST:Voyager story Part 12/12 PG-13 Summary: Is it a crime to be too good at your job? Packing was a slow process. Phil spent too much time laughing at his situation. He was like that when Admiral Janeway knocked at his door. "Sir!" he said, standing at attention. "At ease, Ensign. And wipe that smile off your face." "Yes, sir." "Ensign, what the hell just happened?" "I lost." "You know what I mean," she said. "I learned why Khan lost to Kirk." "Enlighten me, if you can." He took a deep breath. "I thought I always knew. I thought it was 'Theories of Capitol Ship Combat in Micro-Gravity'." "I guess we humans got a few things right." "Yes," he said. "So did Khan." "What? Are you serious?" "The most influential work by a human on starship combat. I believed two hundred years of advanced ideas and real-world experience gave Kirk the edge. But that was how Khan lost, not why." He laughed, the healthiest she'd ever heard from him. "I have a secret." "Oh, god." "I was convinced the Council would keep me Starfleet so they could order me to reveal my secret. Instead, they are keeping me in Starfleet so they can order me not to." "You sound... happy." "This is the best failure of my life, Admiral. I am finally beginning to understand your culture. I want very much to be a part of it." "I don't suppose they will let you explain any of this?" He smiled at her, not in a way an ensign should smile at an admiral. "I made your counterpart a promise. If my secret is ever needed, I asked the Council to allow you to be there. They agreed. I should warn you, though, I don't think you'll like it." "Klingon shock troops couldn't keep me away." "I'll remember that." She scanned his suitcases. "And what will you do until then?" He sighed. "Utopia Planitia. I am going to design starships, B'Elanna is going build them, Tom is going to fly them." "They want to keep you close." "No," he said. "They want to keep me busy." "Fair enough." She sighed herself. "Philip, you're a damn good officer. It was a pleasure serving with you." "Thank-you, sir. I felt the same." She shook his hand and walked out. Dammit, she thought, he got the last word. * * * STARDATE 70618.2: Fifteen Years after the Trial Admiral Janeway watched the tractor beams pull the mutilated hull of the U.S.S. Savaal into spacedock. Two-thirds of her crew were dead. A third of the main dish was gone including the bridge. A scar three decks high ran the length of the engineering hull. She still had warp power and weapons. Holy god, Kathryn thought. Starfleet told her nothing. She read reports from the other ships that made it back. The Savaal drew the cube away. That was the last they saw. No communication with the Savaal was permitted. The ship was ordered to Starbase Four for refit, a long trip with that much damage. No explanation offered. They gave Kathryn two orders. The first she couldn't believe. The second let her ask any question she wanted after she was aboard. The gantry locked into place, and Kathryn approached the airlock. "Warning," the starbase computer said, "You have been targeted by phasers. Identify yourself or you will be fired upon. Enter voice and DNA identification now." She provided her name, rank and service number. "Recognized. Prepare for security scan." Janeway took a shallow breath. "Scan complete. Welcome aboard, Admiral." The airlock thrummed open, and shut as soon as she entered. She walked the cylindrical corridor with only the echo of breathing. The second airlock opened on a familiar face. "Ensign Wildman," Kathryn said. "It's good to see you." Naomi smiled back. "Good to be seen." She was bruised and pale. Her uniform was torn and a horn was missing. The admiral touched the empty spot lightly. "Does it hurt?" she asked "No more than the rest," Naomi replied. "The doctor will grow me an new one." "You don't look right without it," Kathryn said. Naomi sighed. "How many mothers does one ensign need?" "One hundred and forty-four of us. Remember that." "Yes, sir. I'm sorry we couldn't afford more of a welcoming party." "Ship before formalities," Kathryn said. "Where is he?" "On the Auxiliary Bridge." "Let's get this over with." She followed Naomi past the blocked passages and exposed decks. "Tell me what happened," she said after a while. "The task force engaged the Borg cubes. They finally adapted to the technology the other Admiral Janeway brought. We destroyed two of the cubes, but the third hit our bridge and main dish. The senior staff was killed. He was the next in line. Only three of our ships were left. We were not enough for the cube. He ordered the other two to split off and try to reach the reinforcements. We pulled the cube away. We used nebulae, asteroid fields, even an ion storm to harry it until the fleet arrived." "That's very impressive, Naomi." "We never would have made it without him." "I can see that, Ensign." "I'm sorry, sir. On this ship, you get in the habit of defending him." "I understand. You won't need to worry about that any more." As they stepped onto the bridge, a lieutenant called out, "Admiral on the deck!" The crew snapped straight. "At ease," Janeway said. She walked around the tactical station to a figure in a blue uniform. Still so young looking, damn him. "Lieutenant Commander Philip Keegan." "Admiral Janeway," he replied. "By order of Starfleet Command, you are hereby promoted to the rank of captain and given command of the U.S.S. Savaal." She placed the pips on his collar and held out her hand. "Congratulations." He took her hand. "Sir, I will serve to the best of my ability." "I'm certain of that." She turned to the Vulcan at Keegan's right. "Lieutenant Commander Senek, you are promoted to the rank of commander and given the position of First Officer of the U.S.S. Savaal." "Admiral," he said, "I shall serve as duty requires." The admiral nodded. "Captain Keegan," she said. Behind her, Naomi smiled. "You request that Lieutenant T'Zel be made your chief engineer and Second Officer is denied. Command feels she lacks the experience. You will be assigned new officers to fill those posts." "Yes, sir," he said. He turned to Senek. "Commander, you will be in charge of the refit for now. Do nothing to the weapons or defensive systems. Admiral Janeway and I have been ordered to acquire schematics for those systems from a research facility. The Savaal will serve as the test bed for the new weapons." "Yes, sir," Senek said. "When should I expect your return?" "Within eight days. Work on the superstructure and the power systems first. We'll need those in place for the weapons." "Yes, sir. The ship will be ready." "I have every faith in you, Mister Senek. Admiral, shall we go?" "Lead the way, Captain." They reached the Captain's Yacht and took their seats. Kathryn smiled at the familiarity of it. The Delta Flyer was the template for most Yachts now, this one included. Phil pulled the shuttle away from the Savaal and rushed her out of spacedock. Kathryn waited until they were in warp to ask the question. "Research facility?" "Some of the more rogue members of Section Thirty-One might have sent Betazoids to you. Command couldn't take the chance. They let me tell you." "Tell me what?" "The secret." "Which secret is that, Philip?" "The secret, Kathryn." "Oh. That secret." She leaned back in her chair and tried to relax. "What about the Section Thirty-One operative on the Savaal? Will he try anything?" "He died defending the ship against a Borg assault team." Phil shook his head. "I may not like their methods, but I cannot question their loyalty." "So, where are we going?" "We are going to Holberg 917-G," he began. "That's forbidden space," she said. "I know. The system was damaged by Omega particles. They were detonated intentionally." She shook her head. "That doesn't sound like the Federation." "It wasn't. My grandfather did that. He wanted to deter visitors." "Your grandfather?" She said the word hard and said it again in her mind. "How?" "My grandfather possessed instant tissue regeneration. He could not age. He came here when he was more than six thousand years old. He wanted to create a companion. He failed, again. And, removed from the Earth, he lost the ability to regenerate." "He died?" she asked. "I don't know. We shall see." "He is your secret?" "No. The Council knew about him. The Constitution class Enterprise visited here to acquire emergency medical supplies. Ambassador Spock was the ship's First Officer." "His secret testimony?" she asked. "Additional information not in the logs. Only three men met my grandfather on Holberg 917-G. At the time of the trial, two of them were dead." "Kirk and McCoy." "Yes. My grandfather promised to devote his remaining years to the betterment of mankind, but the technology he developed was too much for us. We weren't ready. He knew that and hid the system behind the Omega damage and hid the world behind a defense screen we still cannot penetrate." "You hope he's still alive and will respond to you?" "No," he said. "He set up a security code. When we can pass that, we can reach the planet. The best computers and codebreakers of the last century have tried to defeat it. They failed." He smiled. "But they didn't grow up with him." "You're counterpart," she said with a smile of her own. "That's what he did." "Yes. It took him a month with Pathfinder. I don't have that restriction. I should be through in about a week." "A week? What shall I do, Philip?" "Kathryn, you have a war to organize." "True enough." He sighed. "Coffee?" "Yes." He returned with a mug and a plate for both of them. "This is a dessert made by one of the Andorians on the Savaal from Vulcan ingredients. It has a complex taste." She took a bite. "My compliments to the chef." "To his family," he corrected. They sipped coffee in silence. "Your grandfather failed twice?" she asked. He sighed. "He tried to create a positronic android. It collapsed under its own emotions. He wanted a companion that would last longer than a human lifespan, something that would match his mind and body. An equal." She nodded and ate her dessert. "I quite enjoy this." "I've had to add time in the gym because of it." "How has it been for you?" "Well--" The warp engines cut out. He turned to the controls. "Full impulse from here to the planet." "Enough time for you to answer my question?" "I lost two-thirds of my closest friends in one day. I've been better." "Before that." "Honestly, Kathryn, I was happy. I was the Chief Science Officer of a Federation starship. That's all I ever wanted." "On a ship sixty percent Vulcan. That must have been interesting." He smiled. "Are familiar with the term 'back seat driver'?" "Yes, in my day we call them a First Officer." He laughed loud and well at that. "I must tell that to Chakotay," he said. She sipped her coffee again. "I read that paper you wrote with Lisa." "I did enjoy that," he said. "How is she?" "She's fine, the kids are fine, Tadao's fine. I'll tell them you asked." "How are you doing?" He squinted at her. "What do you mean? I was Tadao's best man." "I know that, Phil. I mean, how are you doing?" "It's difficult. Human women are afraid." "Are you still...?" "No. I stopped that years ago. They're afraid of what any children might be like. I can't blame them." He contemplated his cup. "And the non-humans?" she asked. "On our last long range mission, one of the Vulcan women had her mating cycle kick-started. Mating with another Vulcan would have created problems. She asked for my help. I've had worse weeks." "Did she...? Is she still on the ship?" "Yes. You just turned her down to be my Chief Engineer." "Speaking of engineers, I'm looking forward to what a six thousand year old genius can create." Still too distant for the eye, she watched the planet approach in the monitors. "You have. Where do you think we got the ablative armor and transphasic torpedoes? That's a hell of a lot of advancement for twenty years." "When did you know?" she said. "The minute I saw the schematics. My grandfather's signature is easy to spot." He stretched. "I'm going to get some sleep. I want to be rested for my encounter with grandfather's computer. I haven't had much good sleep lately." She looked at the monitor. "You've got two-and-a-half hours." He nodded as he walked to the back of the shuttle. Kathryn opened a database on Borg movements and saw Starfleet had updated the information that morning. She smiled at their thoroughness and began reviewing tactical information. He returned on time wearing a command uniform and carrying more coffee. "Watch the bed," he said. "It's a bit stiff." "Just one?" she asked. "This is not the original Captain's Yacht from the Savaal. They ripped out non-essentials for computer space. It's basically a flying codebreaker." She leaned back from her console and watched him work. "Do you feel vindicated?" "I feel accepted. I said the Tribunal delivered the correct verdict. That's still true." The comm bleeped and a voice said, "Your ship has been targeted. Any attempt to land will result in your destruction. You may leave at any time in safety. Access to the planet will granted if you are able to provide the correct entrance codes. First code: complete the following number sequence." A series of numbers appeared on the monitor. "That seems a little easy," Kathryn said. "The number sequence is irrelevant. The first transmission carries a modulated signature. The modulation follows a series of increasingly complex formulae. I must identify the formula from each signature, identify the sequence and transmit a response using the next signature. That's step one. Starfleet codebreakers have made it to step fifty-three. I estimate about two hundred such steps, each more complex." "Oh," Kathryn said. "My grandfather liked codes." "I see that. I hope he's still alive. I really want to meet him." "Yes, Kathryn," Phil said softly. "I know." They talked little during the week. His level of concentration disturbed her. He would break between codes sometimes and talk to relax. That was all. Once, he laughed when he figured out a code but never explained why. He finished six days and four hours after he began with barely twenty hours of accumulated sleep. Kathryn had to land the ship. A woman met them, pretty and blond with a disconcerting smile. "You are...ahead of schedule," she said. "That's my fault," Phil replied. He introduced himself and Kathryn. "I followed your progress. Your approach was very different." "Yes," he said. "I cheated." She tsked at him. "Well, you're here. Please follow me." After a few steps, Kathryn asked, "Is he here?" Phil and the woman stopped. "I don't know where he is," she said. "I'm sorry." "That's all right," Phil said. "May we continue?" "Of course. My name is Aricia, by the way." "Greek," Phil said. "Princess of the royal blood of Athens." She turned around and stared at him. "You sound a great deal like him." Phil shrugged. "May I ask why you have come?" she said. "A species called the Borg has begun a full scale invasion," Kathryn said. Aricia shook her head. "That is ahead of schedule as well." "You know about the Borg?" Kathryn said. "Father knew of them, yes." She guided them down a wide corridor lined on both sides by art of the highest order. Phil stopped at a painting of "The Capture of Persephone". Hades was obscured by armor and a helmet, but the face and body of Persephone were both openly exposed. Phil touched the face of the dark haired child of Demeter. "Phil?" Kathryn asked. "Gescilene," he replied. "Your...sister? The one you--" "They were just words, Kathryn. We were never related. He always loved her features. He painted her a dozen times. I never saw this one." "He painted this a century ago," Aricia said. Phil removed a tricorder and scanned the image to the last molecule. "You were one of his grandchildren," Aricia said. "How? You were not with Khan." "Cryogenics not of my doing," he replied. "That explains your cheat." "Yes," he told her. "You must repair that after we leave." "I shall. This way please." They continued on. "Which batch were you?" "The last. I was the physicist." She stopped again and began to laugh. "Kieron McCray? Father said I have some of you in me. Your sense of humor. He called it an unexpected act of penance. I think it pleased him." "You'll forgive me if I don't know how to respond," Phil said. She smiled. "We both knew him." They arrived at a large chamber. At its center, twenty feet to a side, stood the familiar form of a Borg cube. Kathryn examined it and whistled. "This is amazing," she said. "You will need weapons and defensive systems," Aricia said. "Yes," Kathryn replied. Aricia turned her head to one side as if listening. "You have some of his technology aboard your ship now. How is that?" "An act of time travel gone horribly right," Phil said. "Father would not be pleased," Aricia replied. Phil pointed to Kathryn and said, "She did it." Aricia shook her head. "You should be ashamed of yourself, young lady." "Oh, god, you are alike. I don't think the world can survive two people with your sense of humor, Philip." The children of the immortal smiled. "I will return soon," Aricia said. Phil wandered the room and scanned more paintings and sculptures. He stopped at a harpsichord and sat down to play. "That sounds like Brahms," Kathryn said. "Grandfather was Brahms." "Of course. Was he also Shakespeare?" "No. He was Francis Bacon." Phil continued to play. "This model is astounding." "It's not a model," Phil said. Kathryn examined the ship closer until she saw a frozen figure. She swallowed hard and stepped away. "Who else was he?" she asked. "Archimedes, Alexander, Merlin, Imhotep, a few others. Some he would never talk about." "Remarkable. Did he make all of these?" she said. "Yes," Aricia replied, entering the room. "This is my favorite." She pointed to a very dark painting. It depicted a line of people digging graves. "He was there?" Kathryn asked. "I didn't see him," Phil said. "Why is that your favorite, Aunt Aricia?" "It's when he turned to androids," she replied. "Where were you? I wanted to ask him, but he left before I could." "Fifth grave in from the right with the shovel over my shoulder," he replied, standing. "Do you have the schematics?" "Yes, these should be more than enough." "Thank-you," he said, taking the isolinear chip. "May I ask you something? You don't seem as...unstable...as I was led to believe." "Nor as sophisticated, I'm afraid. I do not meet father's standards for a companion. I can maintain his home, however." "Sophistication is in the eye of the engineer. It was a pleasure, Aricia." He kissed her cheek. "I hope to see you again. One last thing." He picked up the sheet music and raised his eyebrows. Aricia nodded. "You are a precocious nephew, but I will forgive you." She turned to Kathryn. "Admiral, I wish you the best in your war." "Thank-you," Kathryn said. "For the most intriguing afternoon I've ever had." Back in space, Phil plunged into the schematics. He swallowed page after page with hardly blinking. "Don't you need sleep?" Kathryn asked. "Desperately." "Will they do?" He looked up. "Yes, I'm certain they will. How are you doing, Kathryn?" "I'm overwhelmed by your grandfather's technology and his life. His music. He was one of my favorites. His artwork is incredible. His paintings look exactly like Da Vinci's. The most amazing gift for mimicry I've seen." Phil sighed. "Kathryn," he said in a stern voice. "No, that wasn't very clever of me." She lowered her eyes as if scolding herself. "I took so many of your heroes, Kathryn. I wanted to leave you your favorite." "The Federation has a responsibility to the truth. I will survive this. Tell me, did the simulation look anything like him?" "Not a bit." "And what about you? Neither one of you seemed to care if he was alive. I thought McCoy said he was going to die." "McCoy told my grandfather he lost the ability to regenerate when he left the unique balance of Earth's environment." "Why not go back to Earth?" Kathryn asked. "I asked Ambassador Spock that very thing. He said, 'Perhaps he did.'" "I still don't understand." "No one does. I cannot love my grandfather or hate him, because I cannot understand him. He was never a part of any era to which he belonged, centuries ahead of everyone around him. He saw children born, grow old and die. He saw our every beauty and every horror. All manner of life and death. He created more of our civilization than we could ever know." Phil took a slow breath. "Have you ever felt alone in a room full of people? Imagine six-thousand years of that. So, no, Kathryn, I cannot condemn my grandfather for what he did. I don't want to know if he's alive, and I don't want to know if he's dead." She watched him for much longer than she needed to. "He didn't fail completely." Phil laughed. "Ah, Kathryn, if only I were three centuries younger." She sighed and stood up. "I've grown suddenly very tired. Read your schematics, Captain Keegan. I want you prepared by the time we reach the Savaal. Good evening." "Pleasant dreams, Admiral Janeway." She lay down in the captain's bed and let the memory of Brahms lull her to sleep. THE END -- Constable Katie, ASC* Archive team Archive: www.trekiverse.org | trekiverse.crosswinds.net | qcontinuum.trekiverse.net Submissions: submissions trekiverse.org For archive updates: ASC-Archive-annc-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ASC* FAQs: http://trekiverse.crosswinds.net/FAQs/ ASC Stories-Only list: ascl-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCEM Stories-Only list: ascem-s-subscribe @ yahoogroups dot com ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? 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