Date: Tue, 4 Aug 1998 00:00:21 -0500 (CDT) From: Allen Edward Veazey Subject: USS OBERON: Complications have a way of multiplying Stardate 100802.1800 (Ens. Nabon's quarters) "Computer, open the door to Ensign Nabon's quarters. Personal code Octavius." The door whooshed open. "Computer, place this room at my future disposal." Not waiting for the chime, he strode into his quarters, immediately sat down at his desk. A touch of a button, and the viewscreen flickered into life. "Computer, display the current watch schedules and specialties for personnel in Science, OPS, Medical, and Security." This was going to be kind of tricky, he knew. He was ordered to take an away team down to investigate (hunt?) Ens. Nivek, yet had little or no idea about the people he was bringing. The senior officers, the ones who had really had the most interaction with him, either couldn't go or were unwilling; Christie and Dacey out, Tabak and Crown busy. Iona already looked like she wanted to scratch him, and the new FCO was in shock over his revelations. No, he knew why he had been ordered to lead an away team; they wanted him out of the way. That was acceptable to him. For a moment, he was awash with self-pity. It was always this way. Not as intense, rarely did so many people know his secret, but it was always the same. He was anathema, unclean. The body thief. Once, perhaps, he might have felt the same way about a creature that ...possessed...flesh, but then he had experienced the loneliness, hadn't he? No one could know what it was like to sit, alone, and watch life pass him. On and on, for centuries. Never to join in, never to participate. No escape, no surcrease of final death, just the dumb pained spirits that fled from him and the living creatures that reviled him. There was only his little game, pretending to live as the others, clothing himself in the bodies that he couldn't really call his own. It was all he could do, until he could find a way to escape his own personal prison. After all, that's why he had signed up with Star Fleet in the first place. Nabon/Keyotay shook his head. It was just his dumb luck that someone could *see*. Now many of them knew, and unless he thought of a way to resolve this, everyone would know. And what would happen to his secret then? He shivered, thinking about the report that had to have been made. He feared that discovery, feared the exposure. He feared the possibility that he might have finally met a group that had the capability of ruining his plans, even capturing him. Well, he would make the best of it for now. Don't let fear dictate your actions, he admonished himself. There was even a bonus, in that he no longer had to pretend he was a bright starry-eyed boy from Earth. No more false exuberance, no more naive stupidity. Within the restraints of pretending a Vulcan to the rest of the crew, he could be himself. "All right, computer, assign the following to the away team: myself, Dr. Switzer from Medical, Korom and McDougall from Security, Keldaen from OPS." He tapped his comm badge. "Lt. Keyotay to Dr. Switzer..." Keldaen was last. "Are you sure you want me on the away team, lieutenant?" "That's correct. Is there a problem?" "Not at all." The voice was icy. "Perhaps, we should talk, Ri'sahn, if there is something bothering you." "I'd prefer to speak to you face to face, lieutenant." "As you will. Meet us in transporter room three in fifteen minutes." He broke the link, then frowned. Had word spread that quickly? Surely not...but it was possible. What would he do then? He would be looking forward to talking to Owen Christie when he revived, that was for sure. Thankfully, repairs were coming along very quickly. For what it was worth, the android had had a wealth of experience of his own, and might just be the only kindred spirit he was likely to meet. On a whim, the thumbed up a schematic of the current repairs, and whistled at the intricacy of the circuits. To his complete suprise, the terminal spoke to him. "What? No...neither are you." "Simple enough, I'm involved in his repair. Care to explain just exactly who you are?" The voice sounded familiar, though, perhaps if he... he suddenly remembered. On the Gateway planet. "You sound like Lt. Christie. Is this some kind of elaborate joke?" "Hardly necessary. I'm Nabon." "Yes I do, don't I? Until you explain how we can be talking, perhaps I'd better refer you to the captain." "Unglaublich!" "Simply amazing. I believe you, of course." "Because for one thing, it's plausible. I just didn't consider the possibility. For another, only a ranking officer would explain that they lived in the computer and then taunt the OPS." "Isn't it obvious? I'm Nabon, in Keyotay's body. There was a lot of switching around while you weren't looking. I'm pleased to meet you, of course, though we've met before." "Oh, before that. Gabbatha...twelfth century China, the conversion of fireworks to rocket-arrows...the building of the Vatican...most memorably, your appointment as ambassador to the French court after the American Revolutionary war. I remember you drank wine like a fish. Or, perhaps, I should say your predecessor did. Then of course there was the Questor project in the late twentieth century...a lot of people got into hot water when you ran away. Including me." "I've looked at some of your memories, Owen Christie. I saw them in the computer, and I saw them when I animated your body, on Jonah. You've suddenly proved very valuable to me." "We need to have a very long talk...unfortunately, I need to go. The Captain wants me to go down to Gateway, and I'm about to be very late. I think we need to talk when I come back. More than anything, I need to know how you do it." For a second, a ghost of despair crept into his voice. "How you can have a purpose, Owen Christie. Without it, there's nothing." He unconsciously nodded at the terminal before rising to leave. *************** He mused on the turbolift, completely ignoring the vulcan who was there as he stepped in. Purpose was the keyword, the answer to everything. Somehow, Christie had managed to hang on to some semblance of purpose. A benefactor to humanity. Was it merely programming, or did he make a conscious choice? With such unbelieveable sophistication, he had no doubt that Christie was free-willed. He hoped it was the latter, for if the android had no choice in his actions, there would again be no answer for Nabon. In all this time, he had not found all that much direct evidence of a higher power. Heaven. Hell. Reincarnation. Valhalla. Amber. All had turned out to be a big guess. No reason to live for. "Lieutenant?" Nabon looked up to meet the other vulcan's eyes. "Yes...Ensign?" he answered, eyeing the other's collar. "Sir, you appeared...despondent." The other's voice was very formal. "T'kau cyrcuth hiurtal c'oru Bendii?" "I am...all right, Ensign," he responded, mentally kicking himself for not bringing a universal translator. He understood almost no Vulcan. "This is my stop." "Perhaps I can assist you, Lieutenant." "There is no need." He almost sighed with relief as he exited. ************************ The most immediate thing that struck him about Gateway was the pervasive noise that stayed in the background, wind noise that vaguely reminded him of a choir. Keldaen and Switzer had tricorders out, while the rest carried phasers. They all relaxed when there was no one to be seen. Nabon looked at his second. "Any sign?" Keldaen shook his head. "No one here. Just like the sensors, lieutenant." His voice was gruff. "All right then, fan out, be careful. Report anything suspicious. Ri'sahn, a moment of your time, please." The rest of the group wandered away, and Nabon looked into faceted eyes. "Now is the time to speak." "Permission to speak freely, lieutenant?" "Of course." "With all due respect, I don't see why you're here. You're an FCO, and all of a sudden you're OPS." "OPS is necessary." "Of course it is. You don't understand the volatility of this position, I don't think. There have been five...no six people in command of OPS since I've been here. I didn't even see the last one, he was here so short. Now you're in charge..." "And your point?" "I don't understand why I wasn't selected. I know OPS better than most. I feel that I'm more qualified." Jealousy? Well, he understood that well enough. "Perhaps you're where you are simply because you're a constant. Someone to rely upon in what you describe as a volatile position." "I'm still more qualified. Sir." "I'm only here temporarily. I expect that Nabon will return shortly." "I question his qualifications, too. He's fresh out of the Academy!" Nabon fought the urge not to smile. "Just between you and me, lieutenant, you may be right. I've reviewed what other officers have done in OPS already. I'll admit to you that despite my computer expertise, I can't sit down and design fractal virus antidotes as fast as Lt. Dacey, or design algorhythms like Cm. Zinoviev. I expect that you'll find a lot of faults with my abilities in OPS, and perhaps you're right that you are more qualified. I have it on good authority that Nabon won't be any better at it than I am. We both are going to need assistance, and I trust that you will do the best you can to ease us both through that period. Am I correct?" "Yes." The voice was surly. "Then, perhaps we can stick to the matter at hand. I think, Lieutenant, that you will like Ens. Nabon. From what I have observed, he also often shows his irritation over what he considers intolerable situations." Within minutes, they had established that Nivek was no longer around. "There's no place for him to go, is there? This whole region appears desolate." "The Guardian, Lieutenant." "Yes...I was seeing if there were other possibilities. What have you picked up?" "This is the spot where Lt. Dacey was fired upon. There are a large concen- tration of anti-protons here." "Anti-protons? That's a Romulan design." "Very good, Mr. Key. It was probably a Romulan disruptor. It's not here, so I'm assuming he took it with him. There's also traces of crystalline dust on the ground, they don't match the geology of the area. The largest concentration is...over there," he said, pointing. Nabon saw it first, a small pile of crystals, a boot print clearly imprinted on the top. "Does this match Ens. Nivek's boot size?" "It does." "This is where the earlier battle occured. Where does the dust trail lead?" "Straight to the Guardian." "This makes no sense. Why would Nivek be carrying a Romulan disruptor? Why use it on Dacey? Why even go through the Guardian?" He stopped himself from frowning. "Ri'sahn, was there some kind of relationship between Dacey and Nivek?" "Not that I'm aware of." "Maybe to cover his tracks, then, like he wanted to get rid of the evidence." He did frown, then. "Like he planned for the possibility of coming to Gateway, and arranged things so that he could go through the Guardian. With a Romulan disruptor. It may just be supposition, but it doesn't sound promising." "No, it doesn't." Nabon looked up at the huge torus. Almost to himself, he muttered, "So I guess you're not willing to just tell us where he went." A voice boomed in his head. "HE HAS RETURNED TO THE PAST, TO THE PLACE YOU CALL WOLF 359." "Why?" "Why what, Lieutenant?" Keldaen looked around. "The Guardian...it's speaking to me." He looked back up. "Why did he go there?" "HE WILL ALTER THE PAST, SO TO ALTER THE FUTURE. THE CHANGE WILL BE SIGNIFICANT." "Is he Romulan?" Silence. "Well, what can be done to stop him?" "THERE IS LITTLE THAT YOU CAN EFFECT. THE DECISION, THE CRUX OF CHANGE, FALLS TO ANOTHER. YOURS IS TO OBSERVE, AS ALWAYS." "What do you mean, 'as always'? What do you know?" "I KNOW YOU, WANDERER. YOU AND YOUR KIND FROM BEYOND THE RIM HAVE PROVED DETRIMENTAL IN THE PAST. YOU ARE A WILD FACTOR, AN UNCERTAINTY IN A TIME-SPACE NEXUS THAT IS ALREADY FULL OF ANOMALY." 'Rim'? As in, 'Galactic Rim'? What the hell was it talking about? "What do you mean, 'my kind'? I don't know what you mean!" Silence. "I don't know! Why am I here? What do you know? What is my purpose?!" Silence, again, the space inside the torus filling slowly with vapor. "Tell me!!" ************************ Allen Veazey Nabon/Keyotay, OPS, USS OBERON Allen Veazey wolf@dbtech.net "And in these days, When darkness falls early And people rush home To the ones they love, You better take a fool's advice And take care of your own; One day they're here Next day they're gone." --Don Henley, New York Minute