"Mistaken Identity" Part 1

This week, Captain Adele Blanchard is faced with opposition on two fronts. This opposition takes the form of an attack by a mysterious new race of aliens, and (if that was not enough) continued resentment of her own crew to her command of the McAuliffe. And, as if that wasn't enough excitement, Commander Rocky Jordan is faced with having to assume command of the ship, for the first time in her career. How will our stalwart crew handle these obstacles? Read on and find out.

=/\=

Captain Adele Blanchard looked out the window in her ready room. Lost in thought, she hardly saw the stars as they sped by. The door chime sounded and she spoke. “Come,” she said, taking a seat behind her desk and facing the door.

A Vulcan woman entered the room and said, “Captain, you sent for me?” She stood at attention just inside the door.

The captain gestured toward the chair opposite from hers, and waited as the other woman moved swiftly to obey. She came right to the point. “Commander T’Ku’lhan, are you happy with your assignment on the McAuliffe?” Her tone of voice implied that she was not making polite conversation.

“Yes, sir,” T’Ku’lhan answered. Her stoic demeanor, so typical for a Vulcan, made it difficult to gauge how she took the question.

“I’m glad,” the captain stated. “From your job performance during the last couple of months, I thought perhaps you were reconsidering a transfer to another ship.” She leaned back in her chair and leveled her gaze at the other woman.

That drew a visible response. T’Ku’lhan appeared to be somewhat offended (if, indeed, a Vulcan can show such an emotion) and asked, “May I ask what aspects of my performance the captain has been dissatisfied with, sir?” She sat up even straighter in her chair, if that was possible.

Blanchard responded bluntly, “Ever since I assumed command, you have continually questioned the logic of my orders. At other times, I’ve found out that you’ve disregarded my commands entirely. Only yesterday, I told you to use the forward sensor array to scan Fisher VII. However, upon reading the report I see that the lateral arrays were used.”

T’Ku’lhan spoke evenly. “I determined that the lateral sensors could be the most effective means of conducting the planetary survey, sir.”

The captain stood up, trying to mask her increasing displeasure. “That very well may have been the case, Commander. And, if you had made your recommendation in an appropriate manner, instead of taking it upon yourself to act contrary to orders, I might have agreed. However,” and here she moved forward to stand directly in front of the Vulcan, looking down upon her with cold blue-grey eyes, “I will remind you that I am in command of this ship, and not you.”

“I will try to remember that in the future, Captain.” T’Ku’lhan did not sound the least bit remorseful, but Blanchard reminded herself that this was a Vulcan before her.

“On your feet,” the captain barked, and the Vulcan sprang quickly to her feet, eyes riveted forward. “In the future, Lieutenant Commander T’Ku’lhan, you are required to consult with me before making any changes to my orders. And if you question the reasoning behind them, you may do so in private, and with respect.” Blanchard paused slightly before continuing, “The next words I expect to hear from you are Yes, sir.” The captain’s voice became ominously quieter as she moved to look directly into the other’s eyes.

T’Ku’lhan waited momentarily before responding, “Yes, sir.” The tone of her voice was nearly emotionless, as usual, but the slight turning of her head had an almost sarcastic tenor to it.

“Dismissed,” the captain said decisively, turning to look out the window without another glance at the Vulcan.

Rising to return to her post, T’Ku’lhan returned to her post. In spite of the door swishing almost soundlessly behind her, a painting on the wall of the ready room crashed to the deck almost at the same moment. Startled, Blanchard spun around quickly only to find the room empty except for herself.

=/\=

When the captain returned to the bridge, Commander Rocky Jordan stood and crisply moved to the right-hand chair. As she relinquished the center seat she glanced momentarily at Blanchard, studying the other woman’s face momentarily.

“Report, Number One,” Blanchard ordered as she sat down smoothly. While her eyes were focused forward, her senses were keenly attuned to everything going on throughout the bridge.

“We are proceeding to the Albrecht system at Warp 1,” came the XO’s reply.

“Carry on,” Blanchard nodded. She calmly studied the two officers seated before her for a long moment, and then studied the readings displayed on the arm of her own chair. In the three months since she had taken command of the McAuliffe, she had learned a lot about her new crew. Some had handled the transition well, but several of them had been openly resentful about the change in command.

Captain Stewart Livingston, the ship’s previous commanding officer, was a seasoned Starfleet veteran, revered by many on the ship. He could have had his pick of choice assignments, including moving up to the Admiralty or teaching at the Academy, but instead had chosen a life of retirement. He had purchased a small plot of land in Montana, where he could finally spend some quality time with his long-suffering wife while enjoying his favorite off-duty pastime, fly-fishing. After he departed the McAuliffe, there was a genuine feeling of loss felt by many on board.

In sharp contrast to her predecessor, Adele Blanchard was considered by many to be too young and inexperienced in the ways of command. While most of the crew seemed to accept the change without difficulty, others were almost openly contemptuous. Foremost among these were Lt. Commander T’Ku’lhan at Ops and Chief Medical Officer Linda Castle.

During this period of transition, Blanchard was intensely grateful for the support and loyalty of her first officer. She had attended Starfleet Academy with Rocky Jordan, where they had become close friends. Later, the two women had served together on the U.S.S. Exeter, and their respect for each other had intensified. When Blanchard was given the opportunity to choose her own XO aboard the McAuliffe, it was an easy decision for her to make.

Lt. Ghegau, the ship’s security chief, interrupted the captain’s thoughts. “Captain, sensors are picking up an object of some sort ahead.”

“Are we in range for visual?” Blanchard asked, leaning forward slightly in her chair. The main viewscreen came to life and showed a nearly unremarkable starfield. An object of some sort was barely perceptible in the distance. Eyes narrowing a bit in curiosity, the captain ordered, “Maximum magnification.”

The image on the screen shimmered and seemed to come closer, so that those on the ship could now make out its configuration. Two long cylinders appeared to be unbroken by windows or openings of any kind, and were connected at either end by short narrow rods. Standing, Blanchard walked over to stand behind T’Ku’lhan at Ops. “What do you make of it, Commander?”

The Vulcan woman’s slender fingers darted over her console. “The configuration doesn’t appear to match anything in the Starfleet data banks.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “Sensors indicate the two main cylinders are 100.3 meters in length, and approximately . . . “

At that moment, a beam of bright light, which was suddenly emitted by the object and directed toward the ship, interrupted T’Ku’lhan’s words. Jordan bounded out of her seat as Cherokee called out, “Shields have been penetrated!”

But the security chief hadn’t even finished speaking before the bridge was bathed in a blinding light and a concussion that knocked everyone to the deck. Jordan was the first to spring to her feet, trained eyes darting around the bridge for any signs of damage. She didn’t have to look far before shouting, “Medical emergency on the bridge!”

T’Ku’lhan at Ops was quickly picking herself up and straightening her uniform, her normal Vulcan aplomb sharply out of place after what had just happened. Ensign Proto still sat at his post, his program seemingly unaffected. Groans of pain could be heard from the aft portion of the bridge, as various crewmembers recovered their feet. But Jordan’s eyes were focused on Captain Blanchard, crumpled in a heap on the command deck.

As concerned as she was for her captain and friend, Jordan’s first thought was for the ship. She turned to fire a question at Cherokee, “Shield status?”

Her uniform ripped at the sleeve, the security chief looked down for a moment, “Holding for now, Sir, at 75 percent.”

As she knelt down beside the stricken Blanchard, the XO commanded, “Target forward phasers on that thing, in case it attacks again!” Silently, she thought to herself, Oh Adele, don’t do this to me. I’m not ready yet.

Without being asked, T’Ku’lhan called out, “Propulsion and weapons systems back on line.”

At that moment, Dr. Castle came rushing onto the bridge, followed by two nurses. Quickly assessing the situation at large, she knelt down next to Jordan and pulled out her tricorder. As she scanned the captain’s prone body, she directed a biting inquiry toward Jordan, “What happened here?” For a fleeting moment, the XO was reminded of her primary school teacher back on the starbase, after she had gotten into yet another fight.

Rocking back on her heels to give the doctor space to do her work, Jordan replied, “The ship was attacked, and the captain was hit by a beam of some kind.” She had a strange feeling that she was merely stating the painfully obvious.

Castle nodded and directed her full attention to her patient. Continuing to scan Blanchard’s body, she spoke to her team, “Cortical activity is shutting down. We need to get her to Sickbay fast.” She slapped her comm. Badge. “Emergency transport, four to Sickbay, NOW!” The doctor, two nurses, and patient promptly disappeared, leaving Rocky Jordan alone in command of a Galaxy-class starship.

The first officer stood and pondered her options for a split second before taking action. “What do the sensors tell us about that ship?”

T’Ku’lhan responded almost as if nothing had happened, sounding almost bored. “There is some kind of shielding around the vessel that is preventing us from picking up any internal readings. I’m attempting to reconfigure the sensors even now.”

Jordan nodded and then looked aft. “Ghegau?”

The security chief had fully recovered by now and was at the alert, “Phasers armed and targeted on the vessel, Commander.” From the look in her eyes, she was just itching for a chance to fire.

All eyes were instantly directed to the viewscreen as the strange vessel suddenly exploded, sending debris flying in all directions. However, due to the distance between the two ships, along with the McAuliffe’s shields, no real damage was done to the starship’s hull. However, the force of the explosion rocked the larger ship and threw many of its crew to the deck once more.

Jordan had just resumed her seat when Castle’s voice was heard over the intercom, “Would you mind taking it easy up there? I’m trying to save the captain’s life!”

The XO bit back a sarcastic rejoinder. Instead she issued a query of her own, “Are there any other casualties?”

“Several minor injuries have been reported at various locations,” the doctor responded, her voice all business once more. “They are being seen to.”

Jordan nodded and broke the connection. She questioned T’Ku’lhan, “Were you able to get any more information from that thing before it exploded?” Her body language loudly telegraphed the tension she was feeling, her fists curled up as she strode around the bridge furiously. It was at times like these that she admired Blanchard’s cool outward demeanor during a crisis.

“Sensors were unable to pick up any information from the vessel,” the Vulcan answered a she turned to face the XO. “But I may be able to use its ion trail to trace it to its point of origin.”

“Do it,” came the order. “I’m going to Sickbay to check on the captain. You have the bridge, T’Ku’lhan.”

“Aye, sir,” the Vulcan answered as she watched Jordan leave the ship. If some on the McAuliffe’s crew had reacted badly to Blanchard’s presence on the ship, these and more had little respect for her first officer. Oh, it was true that Jordan was very efficient, and knowledgeable in the workings of a starship. But her personality could be more than a little bit abrasive, and she had little patience for the mistakes of others. She wasn’t afraid to express her opinions openly, even if those opinions were uncomplimentary.

=/\=

As the first officer entered Sickbay, she saw Dr. Castle and a nurse hovering over a bed in the center of the room. They looked as if they were running tests of some sort, reaching occasionally for instruments from a nearby table. Jordan walked hesitantly over to the bed, afraid of what she might see. There lay the captain, perfectly still. She showed no visible signs of injury, and one would have thought her to be sleeping, had it not been for the cortical stimulator attached to her forehead.

Without looking up from her patient, the doctor addressed Jordan crossly, “What are you trying to do, Commander, kill us all? If that last jolt had been any stronger, the captain would have ended up on the floor again. I barely was able to keep her from sliding off the bed as it was.” She stepped over to check some readings from the computer terminal on the wall.

For once, the first officer refused to be baited into an argument. Jordan moved closer to Blanchard and asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

“I haven’t been able to determine that. Every system in her body is functioning flawlessly. There is only one thing peculiar that I can find, and let me tell you, it’s damned peculiar.”

“What’s that?” Jordan demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

“Initially, the captain’s cortical processes showed signs of shutting down,” Castle replied, looking perturbed. “But, lately, there has been a rapid increase in brain functions, in a very unexpected manner. Chemical and electrical activity in her brain would almost suggest that she is in the middle of some form of strenuous physical activity. Her cortical centers are processing sensory information at an almost alarming rate.”

Jordan listened to Castle’s recitation with growing impatience. She couldn’t resist getting in one jab. “Just because your great-grandfather was a famous doctor, that doesn’t mean you need to go having delusions of grandeur. Would you mind putting that in terms that we common folk can understand?”

The doctor got a disgusted look on her face. After taking a deep breath she said, “To put it plainly, Commander, the lights are on but no one’s home.”

v

The XO was just about to issue a sarcastic retort of her own. However, from the other side of the room a nurse called, “Doctor, could you come over here, please?” Castle laid down the instrument she was using and stepped over to look at the other patient.

=/\=

How will our stalwart crew deal with this latest menace? Will Captain Blanchard survive this personal attack, and will Commander Jordan be able to successfully lead the crew to victory over their attackers? And just who is attacking the ship, anyway? Come back next week to find out.