Message-Id: <108240967662468EMU0000@buchmf>
From: shimkevi@buchmf.bu.edu (shimkevi)
To: jfy@cis.ksu.edu
Subject: Grey Stars 5
Date: Wed Jun 24 18:15 EDT 1992


Everything is black. In the darkness there are voices speaking in an alien
tongue.

Voice 1 (female): It's a human! Wow!

Voice 2 (female): You've never seen one before?

Voice 1: Only on TV, not like this. Is it a he or she?

Voice 2: Want to find out?

Voice 1&2: Hee-hee-hee.

(The darkness suddenly turns to bright blue. There are two Gilchresian faces
looking down.)

Kiyoshi (sits up): Owww!

(He looks around. He is surrounded by Gilchresians, most of them are in
swimsuits. He then notices that he's dripping wet and, in fact, lying on a
couch near a swimming pool. His helmet is beside him.)

Kiyoshi (to himself): Right into a swimming pool, how embarrassing. Well,
could be worse... (to Gilchresians) Excuse me...(taps his communicator pin)
Mineo to Resilient. 

(no response)

(Kiyoshi taps it again and then notices that it doesn't even beep.)

Kiyoshi: Damn! ...Rena? (looks around) Rena?!!!! (to Gilchresians) Have you
seen my co-pilot?

(Blank stares)

Gilchresian girl 1: Hi....(thinks for a moment) OK!!!

Kiyoshi: OK what?

Gilchresian girl 1 (reassuringly): OK!!!

Gilchresian girl 2 (points at herself): Alh'hen!

Gilchresian girl 1 (points at herself): As'tap!

Kiyoshi (points at himself): Kiyoshi...Hey, you have a translator by any
chance? 

Gilchresian girl 2: Keeeoshi...Traslato?

Kiyoshi (to himself): We are not getting anywhere...(out loud) Does anyone
speak human? 

Gilchresian girls 1 & 2: Not speak human! Pash'ren poshel za "Toshiba
Multi-Speak"! OK!

Kiyoshi (smiles): OK...I guess.

Gilchresian girl 1: Where is Pash'ren? It's just across the street!

Gilchresian girl 2: He looks pretty shaken up. Should we give him something to
drink?

Gilchresian guy 1: No, we shouldn't. The body chemistry can be incompatible.

Gilchresian guy 2: Just where did he come from, anyway? 

Gilchresian girl 1: There was this flash in the sky. I guess his plane blew up
and he ejected.

Gilchresian guy 1 (looks at the uniform): Hey, he isn't regular Federation
Starfleet. It says "RRF SWAT" something.

Gilchresian guy 2: I think "swat" is police.

Gilchresian girl 1: I get it! The president must have asked Federation for
help and they sent the police to get those terrorists.

Gilchresian guy 2: Then how come they blew up above the city?

Gilchresian girl 2: Well, Pash'ren should be here with the Multi-Speak any
minute. Come on, guys, it is not very polite to speak in a language that
someone doesn't understand.

(A Gilchresian guy comes running.)

Pash'ren: I am sorry! SORRY! Couldn't find batteries!

Gilchresian girl 1: Give it to me! (takes the Multi-Speak and gives it to
Kiyoshi)

Kiyohi: Thanks. (stands up) Oww.

Gilchresian girl 1: Are you all right?

Kiyoshi: I think so...Leutenant Kiyoshi Mineo of the Federation Rapid
Response Force starship USS Resilient.. I, er,  apologize for any
inconveniences that my presence might have caused.

Gilchresian girl 1: Oh, not at all. I am As'tap, this is
Alh'hen (Gilchresian girl 2).

Gilchresian guy 1: I am Low're.

Gilchresian guy 2: I'm Jhaa'ben.

Kiyoshi: Nice meeting you...Listen, have you seen my co-pilot by any chance?

Low're: Co-pilot?

Kiyoshi: Yeah. We ejected together. I hope she's all right.

As'tap: She? You have women in Starfleet?

Alh'hen: Of course they do, stupid.

As'tap: Want a drink? We have some human stuff in the fridge.

Kiyoshi: Thanks a lot, but I really have to get in touch with my ship. 

Pash'ren: Oh, right, there was a public announcement on TV. They are looking
for two pilots.

Alh'hen: Public announcement?

Pash'ren: Yeah, about, eh, fifteen minutes ago. I saw it in the store where I
was buying batteries.

Alh'hen: How nice of you to remember...Guess we should try calling the police
(taps her bracelet)...Hello, police? 

Voice (sarcastic): Don't tell me, you've seen the pilots.

Alh'hen (taken by surprise): Why, yes. As a matter of fact, he is here right
now.

Voice: Yeah, sure. You are the forty-seventh one to have a pilot "here right
now". Call us when you've got the second one. Bye, miss.

Alh'hen: Wait!

As'tap: Great! They don't believe us.

Low're: Every loonie in the city is probably on the phone by now.

As'tap: So what do we do?

Alh'hen (to Kiyoshi): We can give you a ride to the nearest police station.

Low're: Nah, let's go to that place where they were holding hostages. I'm sure
somebody from the ship is gonna be there.

Alh'hen: All right, let's go.

Kiyoshi: How far is it?

Alh'hen: About twenty minutes...if we manage to beat the rush traffic, that
is...

(Cut to the outside of the building where the hostage standoff took place. Amu
and Dwight are inside a police hovervan, talking to a Gilchresian official.)

Amu: What is this? A city or some kind of desert?

Official: I am sorry, Leutenant, but we've got two hundred calls so far. We
are doing our best to check them all out.

(Amu swears in her native language and storms out of the van).

Official (listening to a message on the radio): Wait! We've got positive ID
from the twenty-fourth precinct. Yes, they have the female pilot. They should
be here any moment.

Amu (sticks her head in): How is she? Is she all right?

Official: They said that she was unconscious. They didn't have a medic with
them, so they don't know how serious the condition is.

Amu: How soon till they get here?

Official: It's a police speeder, so it should be here any moment.

Amu: Dwight! Where is Doctor Matthew?

Dwight: He's here. Don't worry, it will be OK.

Amu: How do we know? These morons don't know anything about human anatomy!
What if she's got internal injuries?

Dwight: Calm down, Amu. 

Amu: That's easy for you to say (leaves).

(There is already a large crowd outside which the police are trying to keep
out. Several news media hovercars above, shadowed by 
police hovercars. Dr. Matthew from Resilient and his nurse are standing near
two sophisticated-looking stretchers.

A police speeder with its lights flashing swoops down, right near Dr. Matthew.
Amu and a medtech from the Resilient help the Gilchresians inside to pull the
unconscious Rena out of the speeder and put her on the stretcher. 

Amu: Those idiots didn't even take the gravpack off!

(Everybody begins to gather around the stretcher. The nurse starts to take off
Rena's flight jacket and various gadgets that are attached to the suit. Dr.
Matthew activates the medical scanner.)

Dr. Matthew: Hmph...Nothing new here - your classic ejection trauma.

Amu: Ejection trauma?

Dr. Matthew: Happens all the time. Ejects too late, gets knocked
unconscious by the blast, then hits the ground while still unconscious. 

Amu: What do you mean "hits the ground"? What's the bloody gravpack supposed
to do, then?

Dr. Matthew: I don't design them, Miss.

Amu: Shouldn't you beam directly to Sickbay?

Dr. Matthew: We'll wait for the second pilot.

Amu (looks at the scanner display): She's got internal bleeding! Do something!

Dr. Matthew: Sure, my pretty. How 'bout stitching your mouth shut?

(Amu glares at him. Then the crowd behind the police barrier separates and a
hovercar glides through. Kiyoshi jumps out and rushes to where Rena's
stretcher is, followed by Alh'hen, Low're and As'tap. As'tap is wearing
Kiyoshi's helmet.)

Kiyoshi: Rena!!!

Amu (looks at him): Worried, aren't we?

Kiyoshi: Is...is she all right?

Amu: Why should you care? (points at Alh'hen and As'tap who are still in
swimsuits) Go on partying.

Kiyoshi: I wasn't partying! We got stuck in the traffic!

Amu: Traffic, huh (grabs him by the collar) SOME PARTNER YOU ARE!!! Her life is
at stake and you...you...PARTYING WITH ALIEN BIMBOS!!! 

Dwight (puts his hand on Amu's shoulder): It's OK, Amu. Just calm down.

(Amu pays no notice)

Dwight (sternly): Leutenant!

(Amu releases Kiyoshi, still glaring.)

Amu (grudgingly): Sorry!

Kiyoshi: That's OK. (runs over to Rena's side)

Kiyoshi: How is she, Doc? Will she live?

Dr. Matthew: Oh, here you are. Get on the second stretcher.

Kiyoshi: WILL SHE LIVE?!

Dr. Matthew: How many times do I have to answer this question? Yes, she will.
Now get on the stretcher.

Kiyoshi: I'm all right.

Dr. Matthew (working on Rena): Nurse, sedate him and get him on the stretcher.

Kiyoshi: OK, OK (gets on the stretcher).

(Alh'hen and As'tap are waving their hands in the distance.)

Dr. Matthew: Four to beam up. Directly to sickbay.

Nurse (in a very melodic voice): Oh, Doctor, should I use Becosine?

Amu: I'm coming too.

Dr. Matthew (matter of factly): No, you are not.

(Amu is about to explode again.)

Dwight: Calm down, Amu. She will be all right.

Amu: But I have to be with her!

Dwight: Get yourself together, Leutenant. When you are in Starfleet, you worry
in your spare time. 

Amu (stubbornly): She's my friend.

Dwight (to himself): She was in a MILITARY SCHOOL? Did they ever teach
DISCIPLINE? (to Amu) She's also a Starfleet officer, as you are. You are not
helping her or anyone else by getting in everybody's way.

Amu: <....>

Dwight: Did you bring your tricorder with you?

Amu: Eh?...Yes, I did.

Dwight: I want you to take a look at those cyborgs.

(Dwight and Amu leave.

In the room where the hostages were held. The dead (nonfunctional?) cyborgs
are lying covered on the floor, guarded by two SWAT troopers and two
Gilchresian policemen. Luis Mesa is sitting on the floor, rubbing various
parts of his body. Frey is standing near the window.)

Mesa: Is he gone?

Frey: Yup, just beamed back with the victims.

(Dwight and Amu enter.)

Dwight: Mesa? You are supposed to be in sickbay, not down here.

Mesa: No way, Dwight! Not Matthew! 

(Dwight and Amu approach one of the cyborgs. Dwight pulls down the cover.)

Amu (scanning the body): Hmm...looks like a modified BiOES-2...very
modified...what the hell is that?

Dwight: You tell me.

Amu: This is not BiOES-2, this looks like a...(stops short, looking at the two
Gilchresian policemen.)

Dwight: Replay this footage from my suit.

Amu: Yeah...(the screen on her tricorder shows the footage of the phaser beam
striking the cyborg)...OHHH, JEEZ! Dwight, we have to tell the captain!

Dwight: We'll talk to her in person. I asked her to get the permission to do
the autopsy.

(A comminucator in Dwight's suit beeps.)

Vildan's voice: Dwight, we've got the permission. We'll beam you directly to
the autopsy room. Dr. Matthew will be there as soon as he is finished with the patients.

Dwight: Acknowledged. Standing by.

(Dwight, Amu and the two bodies dematerialize.

On board the USS Resilient. Vildan and a Gilchresian in civilian clothes are
walking along the corridor.)

Vildan: As you see, Minister, it is in our mutual interest to keep this matter
as secret as possible.

Minister (of State Security): Quite so, Captain. We shall exhibit uttermost
discretion in our investigation. Be assured that any relevant information will
be passed on to your Intelligence.

Vildan: We appreciate your cooperation, Minister... Also, if you require any
assistance in your investigation, we'll be happy to provide it.

(they enter the transporter room which is empty)

Minister: I thank you for your most generous offer, Captain. However, taking
into account the very delicate nature of this case and the fact that the
presence of outside investigators will most certainly attract attention, I
must decline...Be assured that my decicion is in no way meant to undermine the
trust between the UFP and the Gilchresian Republic - I am acting solely in the
mutual interests of both governments.

Vildan: Be assured that it won't be taken as such. Being a public servant
myself, I understand your concerns.

Minister: The Federation is indeed fortunate to have you as their servant,
Captain Cevelek.

Vildan (smiles): Thank you, Minister.

Minister: My pleasure, Captain. (steps onto the transporter pad)

(Vildan activates the transporter. The Minister dematerializes. Vildan leaves
the room and almost immediately bumps into Amu.)

Amu: Oh, hello Captain.

Vildan: Hello, Leutenant.

Amu: Er, Captain, can I ask you something...

Vildan (suspicious): Forget it, Leutenant. No investigations on your own.

Amu: No, Captain, that's not what I wanted to ask.

Vildan: What is it, then?

Amu: Are we required to wear uniforms at the reception tonight?

Vildan: Mmm...we'll stretch the regulations on this occasion, I guess.

Amu: Thank you, Captain...And about that case.

Vildan: Yes.

Amu: Where did it get transferred - SIS or FCIA?

Vildan: It was SIS.

[SIS is Starfleet - Intelligence Section, FCIA is actually UFP-CIA]

Amu: This is strange, don't you think, Captain?

Vildan: We're not supposed to discuss that, Leutenant. As far as WE are
concerned, the case is closed. 

Amu: ....

Vildan: That's the way things are...See you later, Leutenant (leaves)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

(Cargo bay of the USS Resilient. It is empty and dimly illuminated. The door
opens and Amu walks in, very cautiously, carrying a duffle bag in one hand and
Rena's sword in another. Amu takes another look around, then
places the sword and the bag on the transporter platform. She then walks to
the control panel and activates the transporter. The bag and the sword
dematerialize. Amu turns around and leaves the cargo bay.

Cut to sickbay. Rena is lying in bed, sleeping. Dr. Matthew and his nurse are
nowhere to be seen. Amu comes in, she is now dressed in a blue gown, somewhat
reminiscent of XIV century France, though perhaps a bit more "functional".)

Amu (in a whisper): Rena! Wake up!

Rena (she was only pretending to be asleep): How did it go?

Amu (gives her an "OK" sign): All set.

Rena: What took you so long?

Amu: Somebody was in the cargo bay...OK, listen. When I leave, you get in
there and change. We're beaming down in about ten minutes. I've set the
transporter to get you out of there and feed your signal into the carrier
beam.

Rena: Did you get the medal? The new one, that the President gave to me.

(Amu nods)

Rena: Did you get the sword?

Amu: Yeah...Just don't clobber anyone on the head this time.

Rena: Aw, come on, that guy was really asking for it...What was his name, Bill
or Will something?

Amu: Will. Man, we sure are lucky he didn't know we were Starfleet as well.

Rena: You remember that, right? That guy was so pushy, jeez.

Amu: I sure am glad he is not OUR first officer.

(The door opens and Dr. Matthew comes in.)

Dr. Matthew: Hi there, young ladies.

Rena: Doctor, pleeeeze!!!

Matthew: Out of the question, my pretty. You're grounded for the rest of the
week. 

Amu: You won't be missing much. I'm pretty sure it's gonna be boring (gives
her a wink which Rena returns).

Amu: Well, I have to get going. See you soon.

Rena: Have fun.

(Amu leaves. A couple of minutes later Rena gets up and puts on her slippers.)

Matthew: Now where do you think you are going?

Rena: BATHROOM! (gets in and locks the door. Inside she opens the duffle bag,
takes out her dress, shoes, etc. and starts changing.)

(Cut to the transporter room. Janosz and Dwight are standing on the platform.
Vildan comes in, dressed in a somewhat risky garment.)

Dwight (appreciative look): Looking great, Captain. May I have the first
dance?

Vildan (smiles): If we survive the official part...(looks at her watch)
Where's Leutenant Sagie?

(Amu rushes in.)

Dwight: There she is.

Amu: Sorry I am late!

Vildan (absent-mindedly): That's all right. (to a person at the transporter
controls) Energize. 

(The "landing party" disappears.)

(Inside the sickbay)

Dr. Matthew (knocks on the bathroom door): Leutenant, get out of there.
(after a pause) Very well, you give me no choice...Computer, this is the chief
medical officer speaking. Requesting the sickbay bathroom lock override.

Computer voice: Affirmative. The door lock is now disabled.

(Dr. Matthew opens the door and sees Rena's patient gown, slippers and the
duffle bag.)

Nurse: Doctor! What shall we do?

Matthew: We'll have her head when she comes back. Her science officer friend's
as well...Young people today!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(A view of Kazhar at warp speed. On the bridge Pelle is standing near one of
the wall consoles, looking at the schematics displayed on the screen. There is
a neural interface bracelet on his left arm.

The door opens. Mike comes in drinking beer.)

Mike: Hi! Can I come in?

Pelle (without turning): Sure.

Mike: Thanks. Wes has crashed in the room, so I thought I'll just hang around.

Pelle (switches off the interface bracelet and turns around): By all means.

Mike: It's a great ship you've got.

Pelle: It's all right.

Mike: It's not all right, it's awesome! The only thing they told us about
BOP's at the academy is that they are unreliable and have a low safety margin.

Pelle: Only if you don't take care of it. As far as the design goes it is
probably the best.

Mike (not convinced): Really?

Pelle: When it was first introduced - sixty years ago, it was way ahead
of its time. Even now it is still the best all-around ship...well, I heard
some good things about the new Rihannsu "Glorious Inspiration" class, but it's
all hearsay so far, nothing solid.

[Rihannsu = Romulans]

Mike: Glorious Inspiration? I've never heard of that one.

Pelle (smiles): The Starfleet codename is "War Bird IV". It's not a correct
translation, though.

Mike: A new Warbird? But isn't their present design only five years old? 

Pelle: Why not, they are a paranoid race. Besides, their present design is
garbage. 

Mike: You can't be serious! A War...er, Glorious Inspiration can take out a
Galaxy-class ship.

Pelle (amused): Oh, Galaxy...Galaxy is a joke. Two BOP's can take it out -
easily. It's built for show, not real combat.

Mike: Not when it separates.

Pelle: Yes, but your enemy won't wait for you to separate. Besides, the saucer
section is extremely vulnerable. The only way this can work if you put a
cloaking device on the saucer...in which case you have to put a separate M/A
reactor in there...but if it is powerful enough to sustain a cloaking field it
is powerful enough to drive the on-board weaponry, then the whole separation
idea is unnecessary...Another triumph of politics over common sense.

Mike: You don't think much of Federation technollogy, do you?

Pelle: Not at all. The problem is not technology, in fact it's probably the
best there is. The problem is how it is being implemented. What your ideology
demands and what your survival instincts dictate is in constant conflict. 

Mike: Not with the Romulans and the Klingons.

Pelle: You're right about the Klingons. That's why their ship designs are the
most balanced. Not with the Rihannsu, though.

Mike: But still, they always say that Klingon ships are unreliable. 

Pelle: It's a cultural problem - mostly. In Klingon society, every male is
expected to become a warrior (this word said with sarcasm), not a technician.
Therefore their repair crews are always stretched thin and consist mostly of
unmotivated losers...But this is also the reason why they were the first to
develop a workable self-repair system. The Federation still doesn't have one.

Mike: No, they started putting one on the new ships.

Pelle: If you are talking about the RRF ships, the AMOS they use is bought
from the Klingons...Same as the one on this ship, actually.

[AMOS - Auto Maintenance Operating System]

Unit: Bleeeep! New information has been received. The USS Enterprise has left
Starbase 37 for Gilchres, apparently on a diplomatic mission.

Mike: Eh?

(The door slides open. Wesley comes in, rubbing his eyes. There are sleep
marks on his face.)

Wesley: Eh, what time is it now?

Mike: Wes, the Enterprise is no longer at 37!

Wesley: What did you say?

Mike: The Enterprise has left for Gilchres...You have any suggestions?

Unit: Bleeeep! Message coming in.

Pelle: From where?

Unit: It is coded and marked for you only. 

Pelle: Transfer it to my room (to Mike and Wesley) Sorry...can't get away from
those business calls. I'll be right back. (leaves)

Mike: This is just great, Wes. What are we supposed to do now?

Wesley (he is exhausted and doesn't care anymore): I don't know (in a very
honest voice)

Mike: Well, I know. We're gonna rot at 37 for the rest of our vacation. Thanks
a lot.

(Inside Pelle's room, which is fairly large. The room is a mess and is in
contrast with the rest of the ship. The only tidy spot is a small table near
the bed. A holographic picture of a young vulcanoid female is on the table,
signed in an alien language. Pelle comes in.)

Pelle: All right, what is it? (picks up a portable viewer from the floor)

Unit: Decoding...now.

(Pelle reads the text that appears on the viewer screen. It's a very short
message, basically a bunch of figures and numbers.)

Pelle: Ahh, bioscramble as well. Unit, give me a decoder.

(Two hyposprays materialize on the table. Pelle picks up the first one and
injects the contents into his arm. Switch to the view from his eyes - suddenly
everything in the room becomes a blur except for the message which is now
readable. Pelle examines the message, then closes his eyes and injects the
contents of the second hypospray. His vision slowly returns to normal.)

Pelle (winces): Uhhh...I hate this stuff...Unit, looks like we are not going
to Antanarivu after all. Set course for Sochi. (stands up)

Unit: Very well. The course change has now been effected.

Pelle (winces again and rubs his eyes): Send a message to USS Enterprise. Tell
them that we want to drop those two off and arrange a rendesvois. (leaves the
room) 

Unit: Very well. Sending the message now.

(Bridge of Kazhar. Pelle comes in.)

Pelle: Good news for you guys. Looks like I have to change my plans, so Unit
will try to arrange a rendesvois with the Enterprise. 

Wesley: Thank you very much, Captain.

Pelle: Captain? You see any crew around? I don't.

Mike: Thanks a lot.

Pelle: You're welcome. (comes up to one of the consoles and starts working).

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A seaside city drenched in water that is pouring from the skies.  
Looks like the downpour is not a problem for the diverse and colorful crowd in
the streets. Especially entertaining are the various attempts
to cope with the rain. Bright semi-permeable cloaks that allow bodily
perspiration to evaporate but do not let any water in, antigrav umbrellas
hovering over their owners' heads. One person is walking with a Yakti dragon
on his shoulders, covered by the almost translucent leathery wings of the
animal. But quite a lot of people clearly do not mind the water at all,
preferring to wear swimsuits. A Vulcan couple walks by, dripping wet but
impassive and unperturbed as usual. 

The cafe at the pier, built entirely of paper-thin transparent material, looks
like it is about to dissolve in the falling water. The material must be really
strong, though - the flimsy-looking stairs do not bend in the under
the weight of a Klingon couple who are leaving the cafe.
A gray-haired heavy-built human male is sitting at one of the tables. A young
couple is seated at the table nearest to him.

The water curtain at the entrance parts to let in Pelle, who's wearing a white
jacket, light grey pants and a dark green t-shirt. Pelle presses something on
the handle of the umbrella he is carrying. The umbrella folds
into a cylinder the size of a pen, which Pelle puts into the breast pocket.


Pelle (approaches the grey-haired man at the table): It's been a while, Udo.

Udo (looks up): Still feeling young, Pelle?

Pelle (sits down): I guess young enough to feel that three years have passed.

(The couple at the next table shows signs of discomfort)

Udo: I rather wouldn't start our conversation with this, but my assistants are
very sensitive to the thing you are wearing (points at Pelle's rather thick
headband).

Pelle: Betazoids, eh?

Udo: They are here for your protection as well as mine.

Pelle: I can decrease the intensity.

Udo: Please do. They can't monitor the people around with a neural jammer on
your head at full power.

Pelle: It's at 200 kPSI now. They should be able to tolerate it.

Udo: Barely. 

Pelle: You can give them my sincere apologies. 

Udo: These people are loyal to me. I do not feel comfortable subjecting them
to unnecessary pain.

Pelle (smiles): We all love our tools, don't we, Admiral?

Udo: Tools? Sometimes I wonder if your people have truly discarded their old
philosophy. 

Pelle (smiles): My people? How many of them, perhaps a hundred thousand at
most with eighty percent of those unaware of what they actually are. Of the
twenty thousand that remain, no one is in the position of power, not even
remotely. Once we understood that we are not a step forward in the human
evolution, we stepped aside and let the regular humans live their life as they
see fit.

Udo (sarcastic): Or rather been helped to understand?

Pelle: We could have easily regrouped after the Eugenics Wars and started
another round of planet-wide bloodshed. But we did not - on our own free will.
That decision, made more than three hundred years ago, still stands... Yet even
you still perceive us as a threat.

Udo: I do not perceive you as a threat. But I would rather not have you insult
my assistants.

Pelle: Insult? I apologize if it has been perceived as such.

Udo: I believe that we have carried this discussion too far.

Pelle: Quite so...Let's get back to business, shall we?

Udo: I believe you've been to Gilchres a couple of times.

Pelle: Only once. They were considering joining the Federation at that time.

Udo: They still do. That was one of the reasons we've sent in a SWAT team a
week ago, to assist in a cyborg hostage crisis. The operation was a success.
However, the results of the autopsy done on one of the terminated cyborgs were
quite alarming...The design did not confirm to any known standard - but one.
The Borg.

Pelle: Borg? That's interesting.

Udo: Then I assume you won't mind investigating this.

Pelle: This looks like a dangerous assignment.

Udo: What would you say about twice the usual rate?

Pelle: 2.5

Udo: The SIS is investigating this matter as well, so make sure you
don't get their attention.

Pelle: SIS? So your people are off the case...That would be three times the
usual rate.

Udo: There is a limit to how much we can write off in miscellaneous.

Pelle: You can use Infocom funds. What I am asking is barely adequate for what
you are requesting.

Udo: We don't know what it is yet.

Pelle: From what I know about the Borg, they do not plant agents. I assume
that this is some kind of underground weapons manufacturer who got hold of the
Borg technology.  

Udo: It's not as easy as you might think.

Pelle: Why not? After all, a Borg ship exploded above the Earth. Lots of junk
floating around, just waiting to be picked up. Plus there were those implants
on Captain Picard. 

Udo: The area was swept clean immediately after the explosion. There were no
unidentified ships in the area. All the techincal data on the Borg is
available only with a special security clearance.

Pelle: There could have been a cloaked ship.

Udo: Possible, but highly unlikely.

Pelle: If so, then the only alternative is that there is somebody in Starfleet
with enough authority to have access to the Borg data who is also working for
some yet unknown arms manufacturer... Quite a conspiracy to tackle, if you ask
me.

Udo: We don't know if there is a conspiracy.

Pelle: If not, then why do you need my services? Tell one of the ships under
your command to do an independent investigation. This is well within your
authority. 

Udo: You know the answer.

Pelle: Heh, heh (crooked smile)

Udo (takes something out of his pocket): This is the information that we've
got so far. 

Pelle: Thank you (takes the chip)...

Udo: The spending money will be in the Infocom account as usual. Any
additional information termed relevant to your investigation will be posted
there as well. 

Pelle: What about the payment? I would rather not have it appear in my
Federation account.

Udo: We'll do a wire transfer into a separate Infocom account every two weeks.

Pelle: Perfect...Looks like we've reached an agreement this time. (stands up)
It's been a pleasure, Admiral.

Udo: There is one more thing I wanted to tell you...It's about Praetor
Tessemok. 

Pelle (frowns): What about him?

Udo: According to the latest intelligence report, his son has died in an
accident...leaving no children.

Pelle: What makes you think that this is of any relevance to me?

Udo: As it is now, your daughter is his only descendant.

Pelle: He disowned Arsha and her future descendants when she married me. This
is something that no Rihannsu can take back, no matter how powerful. 

Udo: With both of his children dead and no one to continue the bloodline he
just might change his mind.

Pelle: He has other means of continuing his family line. The Rihannsu medical
sciences are not as advanced as ours, but they are not in the stone age,
either...Technology-wise, that is.

Udo (shrugs): You know their customs better than I do. Still, I suggest that
you take notice.

Pelle: Good-bye, Admiral.

(Pelle leaves)

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