"Mistaken Identity" Part 5

When last we saw our brave heroes, Captain Blanchard was unconscious in Sickbay, disabled by a weapon meant for another man, and the McAuliffe's doctor unable to reverse its effects. Not only that, but it appeared she was also about to come under attack from one of her own crew. In the meantime, Commander Rocky Jordan had taken the alien behind the energy weapon into custody, but has so far failed to get him to reveal any information on reversing its effects. Read on to see how our stalwart crew fares this week.

T’Ku’lhan’s shape changed once more, and she resumed her usual Vulcan appearance. “My mother was an El-Aurian. And, as you know, El-Aurians are a very long-lived race. About two hundred years ago, a very charming gentleman completely swept her off her feet. After they were married, he informed her that he was a member of a race called the Q Continuum. Have you heard of it?”

The captain retorted, “All starship captains have been fully briefed on the being known as Q and all of his ilk.”

“Then you know that those from the Continuum possess incredible powers. My father passed some of them on to me.” T’Ku’lhan smiled enigmatically.

“So, are you toying with me now?” A feeling of dread crept up on Blanchard. She had heard stories of how the being called Q had amused himself with other starships in the fleet, most notably the Enterprise.

The other woman chuckled softly. “Let’s just call it an experiment. You see, I’ve always been afraid to use my powers very much. The Continuum sought out my father and killed him when they found out about his marriage to my mother, an inferior life form. I’ve always been a bit cautious about them finding out about my existence and doing the same to me. So far, luckily, I’ve managed to keep them from discovering my existence.”

=/\=

Dr. Castle suddenly swore under her breath. “She’s slipping farther away. Whatever that Vulcan’s doing, she’d better hurry it up.” The readings on the computer terminal next to the captain’s bed were becoming more and more erratic.

=/\=

Suddenly the captain gasped and clutched her chest, reacting to a sharp and intense pain. Her heart felt as if a hand had grasped it and squeezed it very hard. Blue-green eyes blazed angrily in T’Ku’lhan’s direction. “What are you doing to me?”

“That’s not my doing, unfortunately. The energy blast that knocked you unconscious is slowly eating away at your bodily functions. You could say we’re running out of time.” The woman gave an eerie laugh, accompanied by a wink of the eye.

“If that’s the case, then what are you waiting for? If you are so sure you can get me out of here, then let’s go.” Blanchard sounded far from amused.

“Now, wait just one minute. I haven’t decided whether I want to help you or not. This may be sheer serendipity. I may have been given the opportunity to dispose of a nasty little problem.” T’Ku’lhan rubbed her hands together gleefully.

“What do you mean?” the captain asked. All of a sudden she felt like she was looking in a mirror. T’Ku’lhan had formed herself into an exact likeness of her, from head to toe. Then the surroundings changed, and the two women found themselves standing outside the McAuliffe, perched on top of the starboard warp nacelle.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be in command,” T’Ku’lhan said thoughtfully, her head cocked slightly. “This little . . . situation . . . will give me the perfect chance to do just that. All I would have to do is to wave my hand and send you floating off into the great unknown.”

Blanchard’s eyes widened. She didn’t know whether to be terrified or furious.

Suddenly, the two women were standing in the empty corridor once more. T’Ku’lhan spoke, as if without interruption, “Of course, the supreme irony would be to make you remain on the ship. In a completely different capacity, of course, and nowhere near the top of the food chain.” Blanchard looked down at herself as her uniform changed color, from command red to the teal of the sciences department. It took only the briefest of moments to place a hand to her collar and feel the solitary pip there.

“I think this has gone quite far enough,” the captain growled as she took a step toward the other woman.

“Yes, I think you’re right. How delightful it would be to watch you go through life as a lowly ensign, forced to run mindless repetitive tests for the rest of your days, without the slightest chance of getting anywhere close to the bridge again.” This was followed by diabolical laughter.

“I demand that you stop this foolishness,” Blanchard ordered, her stance firm. “I refuse to bargain with you . . .”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re in any position to bargain, my dear Adele,” T’Ku’lhan smirked. “I, on the other hand, am in an excellent position to be very magnanimous, if I choose to do so.”

“Yes, I can see that you are indeed your father’s daughter,” the captain spat. But before she could continue, her legs buckled under her and she sat down hard on the deck. “What . . . what are you doing to me?”

“I said before that I wasn’t responsible for getting you into this predicament. An energy weapon from some race we have yet to identify hit you. However, if you are a good little girl, I may be able to get you out of this mess before any more of your bodily functions quit on you. As it is, the doctor has had to administer medicine to keep your heart beating, and it looks as if you just lost motor control.”

“Alright, what do you want?” Blanchard sighed.

“First of all, you must never reveal to anyone what I have just told you. If the Continuum were made aware of my existence, they would most certainly hunt me down and destroy me. And they might not be too careful about who or what they eliminate along the way.” T’Ku’lhan winked knowingly at the woman below her.

“Agreed,” the captain grimaced reluctantly. “But I have a feeling that’s not all.”

“I want you to get me off the bridge,” the other woman said evenly. “If I’m not so visible, then I’ll stand a better chance of not catching the eye of anyone from the Continuum who might come snooping around.”

Blanchard told herself that she didn’t want this woman anywhere close to the bridge, but she wasn’t about to reveal that openly. So she decided to play along for the time being. “I can see that.”

“So you’ll do as I say in this?”

“I think you can count on me to do what I can.” The captain’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked away from T’Ku’lhan briefly.

The other woman held out her hand, a challenging look in her eyes. Blanchard took that hand and clasped it tightly, her own expression just as bold. It was at that moment that things started to go dark.

As if out of a fog, the captain saw moments from her past flash in front of her eyes, as if she was watching from afar. She saw herself sitting at the helm of a Galax-class starship traveling at warp speed, thinking that nothing she had ever experienced at the Academy had prepared her for this. She saw herself in the arms of the first man she had ever loved. And, as a deep sadness suddenly washed over her, she saw herself standing at her father’s grave.

And then these, and many more, images vanished as Blanchard became aware of a bright light all around her. She struggled to open her eyes.

=/\=

Jordan was the first to see the captain’s eyelids start to flicker. “Doctor!” she called out as she took a step forward.

Castle looked away from the computer and quickly pulled out her scanner, running it over the prone body on the bed. “All of her vital signs are returning to normal. That Vulcan must have done something after all.”

Just then, that very Vulcan staggered back from Blanchard’s bed, her hands still out in front of her, a pained expression on her face. Keeping her attention focused on the captain, Castle motioned to one of her nurses to help T’Ku’lhan.

As she did this, the first officer kept her eyes carefully fastened on the captain. Just as she was the first to notice the signs of her awakening, she was the first to see Blanchard’s mouth move ever so slightly. Jordan leaned closer, her ear a fraction of an inch from the captain’s face, and even then barely managed to make out her words. “Ship . . . safe?”

Jordan nodded, smiling as she patted the other woman’s arm. “Yes, Captain. The ship is out of danger. Now, just lay back here and let the good doctor do her work.”

Standing up straight and looking toward T’Ku’lhan, the first officer forced her voice to sound respectful. “The ship owes you a debt of gratitude, Commander. I don’t know what you did, but you’ve saved the captain’s life.” Inwardly, she felt her stomach wrench with the knowledge that she herself had not been able to protect her captain, as she should have been able to do.

Jordan’s eyes widened in surprise, however, at the feel of a hand grasping her wrist so sharply that it threatened to break bone. She looked down to see Blanchard staring at her, blue-green eyes large and blazing. She bent down once more to hear the other woman’s still-weak whisper. At first she thought that the captain must be in shock or dazed, because she asked, “Captain, are you sure?” But when the first officer saw Blanchard begin to become agitated, she nodded. “Yes, sir. Right away.”

Jordan stood up and stared at T’Ku’lhan as she slapped her comm. badge. “Security to Sick-bay, immediately.”

It was only seconds before Ghegau and two of her guards came jogging into Sickbay. The security chief spied Jordan and moved quickly in her direction. “The captain?”

“Safe and recovering,” the first officer nodded. “I called you down here to take Commander T’Ku’lhan into custody.”

That woman hardly had time to react with surprise before Ghegau had motioned to her two guards, who came to stand on either side of her. “What is the meaning of this?” T’Ku’lhan demanded.

“Captain’s orders,” Jordan responded calmly. “Take her to the brig for now.”

“Is this how I am repaid?” The other woman raised her voice, uncharacteristically. “I believe that I am responsible for returning her to consciousness. How can you have me arrested?”

Jordan crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sure that when Captain Blanchard recovers more fully, she will give us all the answers we need.” With that, she turned and walked briskly out of Sickbayb. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the security detail holding T’Ku’lhan firmly by both arms. The woman accompanied them without a struggle, although her head was held high in defiance.

So, we find Captain Blanchard finally free of the effects of the energy weapon. But how will she deal with both T'Ku'lhan and Lord Waryn of the Zingaro? Are her troubles over, or is there more to come? Return next week to find out.

Mistaken Identity, Part 4

Last week, we found out who was behind the attack on Captain Blanchard and her ship. We also found out that the assault was actually intended for the McAuliffe's previous commander, Capt. Stewart Livingston. However, far from being remorseful, the being who planned and carried out this attack seems to be even more gleeful to learn that his weapon has disabled the wrong person -- and is stubbornly silent as to how to cure the captain.

This week, while Dr. Castle struggles to find a way to help Blanchard, we spend some time with the captain in the strange place the energy ray has sent her. We also discover a great secret about one of our crew. Will this secret be able to help the captain, or will our villain finally reveal the answer? Read on, and find out the answers to these questions and more.

Upon entering Sickbay, Jordan walked straight toward the captain’s bed, noting that the patient looked much as she had before. When Dr. Castle approached, she queried, “Has there been any change?”

Castle shook her head. “If anything, she’s gotten worse. Her brain waves are starting to become erratic. And I’ve had to administer medication to keep her heartbeat regular.” The woman took a deep breath before commenting, “She keeps slipping farther and farther away from us, Commander.”

The XO sighed as she leaned against a nearby bed. “We’ve discovered that the captain’s condition is the result of some kind of energy weapon that was stolen by the Zingaro – from whom, we have no idea. But apparently this was meant as a personal attack on Captain Livingston.”

The doctor’s face showed her amazement. “Captain Livingston?”

“I’ll explain later,” Jordan replied, waving her head wearily. “T’Ku’lhan is trying to find out who created this thing, in the hopes that will help us figure out how to counteract its effects.”

“We may not have time for that.” Castle shook her head sadly. “If we don’t do something very soon, we’re going to lose her.”

Jordan’s head snapped up at that, and she felt a sense of fear that was completely foreign to her nature. No longer engaging in a sparring match with the doctor, she queried, “And you don’t have any idea how to bring her out of this?”

The doctor paused for a moment before answering, just a bit sharply. “I did have one idea, as you might recall, Commander. You vetoed it at the time, but I don’t think we have any other options at the moment.”

The XO knew very well what Castle was referring to, and she shook her head defiantly. “No telepathy, Doctor. I’m afraid I’m going to have to be very firm on that.”

The doctor’s expression became challenging. “Commander, may I remind you that Captain Blanchard’s life is at stake here. How can you even consider ruling out anything that might be of help to her?” She paused before adding, “And, to be honest, I can do it with or without your permission, as Chief Medical Officer of this ship.”

Jordan paced around the ward, pondering her next move. Her own telepathic powers were a secret that had been known only to herself and to Captain Blanchard for years, as a result of an unspoken agreement. They had both benefited from those powers, on the command deck and on away missions as well. One of the XO’s greatest fears was to have Starfleet discover her gift. But was it worth the captain’s life to keep that secret? Surely she could take the doctor into her confidence, couldn’t she?

Dr. Castle watched the other woman curiously, sensing that she was going through some sort of inner turmoil. She also sensed that this was not the time for levity, and so waited respectfully for the XO to inwardly settle whatever it was that was disturbing her.

Finally, Jordan turned back to the doctor and approached the captain’s bed once more. “The reason I refused to allow a telepath to read the captain is because I had already done so, when I was down here earlier.”

The doctor cocked one eye inquisitively, but remained quiet as she sensed more was to come.

“Doctor, my grandmother was a Betazoid.” Jordan flushed as she said this, not sure how Castle would respond.

Castle nodded slightly as she considered this. “Yes, that would be part of your personnel file. But that only accounts for one-quarter of your genetic make-up. None of your physical exams have shown any indication of telepathic abilities.”

Jordan nodded. “I have spent a long time developing shields, Doctor.”

“If your shields are strong enough to block the kind of scanning you would have been subjected to before entering the Academy, then your powers must be strong indeed,” Castle commented thoughtfully. “I would love the chance to study them some time.”

The XO’s expression darkened considerably as she was tempted to loudly protest this, but then realized that this wasn’t the time. For now, Captain Blanchard’s safety should be their primary concern. So she replied only, “Perhaps, Doctor.”

The two women fell silent for a moment, then, as both considered what to do next. It was Jordan who spoke first. “Doctor, I do have an idea, if you will promise to keep what I have told you in the strictest confidence.”

“Of course, I will,” Castle responded, sounding slightly offended. “I am your doctor, after all.”

The XO looked as if she was about to debate the truth of that, but then decided against it. Instead, she put both hands in her pockets and leaned against the empty bed once more. “I think I can suggest a compromise, Doctor. We may have tried Betazoid telepathy, but the process works entirely differently with Vulcans. What do you think?”

The doctor looked skeptical for the slightest of moments, but then nodded her head thoughtfully. “It just might work. We don’t have any other options, after all.”

With that, Jordan stood up and slapped her comm. badge. “T’Ku’lhan to Sickbay, immediately.”

The briefest of intervals elapsed before the Vulcan woman entered and looked around her. Spying the doctor and XO, she made her way in their direction, looking down at the captain with an expression that looked like she was studying a new species of protozoa. “Yes, Commander?”

Jordan quickly summarized the situation, and the plan she and the doctor had agreed upon. T’Ku’lhan nodded as she listened, and appeared to ponder what she heard. “Might I be permitted to ask what you think I might be able to do here? I am no doctor.”

“No,” the doctor said, “that is very true. But, you are a strong telepath, like the rest of your people.” She took a step closer to the other woman. “We are asking you to try a mind-meld with the captain, to see if you can determine a solution to this problem.”

T’Ku’lhan nodded her understanding. “I’m afraid I cannot comply with your request,” she said evenly as she looked down at Blanchard.

Jordan’s face telegraphed her displeasure. “May I ask why not?”

The Vulcan nodded. “A long time ago, I took a vow to never meld with anyone without their consent.”

The doctor looked dumbfounded. “But the captain cannot give or deny consent in her present condition.”

“Nevertheless,” T’Ku’lhan countered, “I cannot go against my vows.”

“I’ve never heard such malarkey,” Jordan snorted. “Alright, I order you to mind-meld with the captain.”

“We do have Betazoids on the ship’s crew,” the Vulcan offered. “Perhaps one of them could be persuaded to attempt this task. The powers of those from Betazed are known to be very strong.”

The XO cast a warning look at Castle. The doctor nodded slightly and responded, “That has already been attempted.”

“Then it would be highly illogical for me to attempt something that has already been tried unsuccessfully,” T’Ku’lhan said calmly, arms crossed over her chest.

Jordan looked as if her temper was about to erupt. “I never heard such insubordination!”

The Vulcan turned serenely toward the XO. “I merely offer that my time would be better spent continuing my search for the race who created the energy ray that disabled Captain Blanchard.”

Now it was Dr. Castle’s turn to express her irritation. “Confound it, Commander! We’re running out of ideas here. As much as you and I may disagree with the captain’s policies, I refuse to stand by and allow any patient of mine to die for lack of trying. For one moment, can’t you throw your damnable logic out the window and try a little humanity?”

T’Ku’lhan cocked her eyebrow at the doctor, “I do not see why you should insult me, Doctor.”

“Hold on there!” Jordan exclaimed, her patience long gone. She strode forward and grasped the taller woman by her arms, forcing her to turn and look in her direction. “Commander, I don’t care what your personal feelings toward the captain – or toward me, for that matter – are. I’m asking you, as a personal favor, to do whatever you can do here.”

The two women stood eye to eye. One was tall and willowy, with an aloof air in her dark almond-shaped eyes. The other was shorter and more compact, and appeared to be barely suppressing an intense rage. T’Ku’lhan spoke with maddening calm, “Being a Vulcan, sir, my personal feelings, as you call them, are not a consideration.”

Jordan spun around, then, and marched off as if in search of something to hit. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she walked back to the other woman and spoke with a lowered voice, “Alright, then, I’m giving you a direct order to try a mind-meld with the captain. Your vows, whatever they may be, mean less to me than the well-being of that woman over there.” She nodded toward the bed where Blanchard lay, still. “Now, do I have to get Ghegau down here with her guards and arrest you for disobeying a direct order?”

T’Ku’lhan nodded once, and then walked over to stand before the unconscious woman on the bed. She pressed her palms together and closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them and placing her fingertips on the captain’s face. She closed her eyes again, in concentration.

=/\=

After sprinting down the corridor for several seconds, Blanchard slowed to a stop. This was pointless, she thought. Someone had apparently brought her into this place with the intention of holding her as a prisoner. She was not going to find a way out by running down endless corridors. There had to be another solution.

Just then, she became aware of a movement behind her. Turning around quickly, she was surprised to see Lieutenant Commander T’Ku’lhan leaning against the bulkhead, arms crossed over her chest. “Hello, Captain,” the Vulcan woman said amicably.

“Are you behind this nonsense?” the captain demanded.

“No, not at all,” answered the Vulcan. “But I may be able to get you out of here.”

“That’s fine with me,” Blanchard replied. “Let’s go, then.”

“Not so fast,” T’Ku’lhan remarked, a slight smile playing across her face. “First I wanted to take this opportunity to have a little chat with you. Girl talk, you might say.” She sat down on the deck and patted the floor beside her, as if in invitation.

The other woman stayed right where she was, however, and stared down at the Vulcan. “I think you’d better tell me exactly what is going on here,” she ordered sternly. “I heard the Red Alert. If you’ve put the ship in danger. . . “ Blanchard took a step toward T’Ku’lhan, her fists balled up and her threat unfinished.

T’Ku’lhan spoke with a slight sarcastic edge to her voice, most uncharacteristic for a Vulcan. “We’re in your mind, my dear Captain,” she laughed, her behavior departing even further from the cool, unemotional demeanor she usually displayed. “Wandering through the endless maze of your empty human mind, as inferior as it may be. My, what a frightening thought. And, as for the ship, I claim no responsibility for the actions of that loose cannon you call a first officer. If she wants to get the McAuliffe blown out of the galaxy, that’s entirely her problem.”

Blanchard stared at the other woman, amazed at the change in the usually cool, aloof Vulcan. But then, she had only been in command of the ship a short time; perhaps this was merely a side to T’Ku’lhan that she had not encountered before. Carefully, she took a seat on the opposite side of the corridor, her back against the bulkhead. “Watch your tongue, Mister,” she warned. “I can’t believe Captain Livingston allowed you to speak to him like that.”

“He was far more deserving of my respect than you, I can assure you,” the Vulcan smirked. “However, let’s get back to the business at hand. As you have probably surmised by now, I am not whom I appear to be.” T’Ku’lhan’s form suddenly began to shimmer and to change shape. There, sitting across from the captain, was a statuesque Klingon woman in full battle armor. But, before Blanchard had time to react, the image of a Cardassian, and then a Romulan replaced it.

Blanchard jumped to her feet and took a few steps backward, her eyes wide with amazement. “Just what are you?” She was growing more alarmed with every passing moment.

What is this? Captain Blanchard, paralyzed by the effects of a strange alien weapon, suddenly finds herself under attack from one of her own crew as well. What is behind this new assault? Will she find a way to defeat this attacker, while her crew madly searches for a way to deal with the weapon that laid her low in the first place? Return here next week to find out.

"Mistaken Identity" Part 3

Last week, we saw First Officer Rocky Jordan forced to assume command of the McAuliffe, while Captain Blanchard lay unconscious in Sickbay, the victim of a mysterious alien probe. If some of the McAuliffe's crew were doubtful about Blanchard's ability to command, they were even less trusting of her chosen XO's suitability for that task. And, to lead her into possible battle at that. For, with a group of unidentified vessels rushing toward the ship, that may well be what lies in store for our stalwart crew! Read on to find out what happens next.

Captain Blanchard sat on the deck in the corridor, deep in thought. She had begun to suspect that she was not on the McAuliffe after all, but had been transported to some mysterious location that had been designed to look like her ship. The seemingly endless corridor had doors placed at appropriate intervals, but she could get none of them to open. And all of her attempts to contact other ship’s personnel had so far been unsuccessful.

The last thing she remembered before finding herself here was encountering a strange vessel during what should have been a routine mission to the Albrecht system. But how she got from the bridge of her ship to this place was puzzlement in the extreme. If she was no longer on the McAuliffe, how had she been transported from the ship? There had to be some answers here somewhere, if only she kept looking . . . and if she could get her thoughts organized. But she was having a great deal of difficulty concentrating on the task at hand without giving in to a rising sense of panic. And that was not like her at all.

Suddenly the captain’s thoughts were interrupted. Alarms sounded throughout the corridor, accompanied by red flashing lights. Red alert! The ship was in danger! She had to somehow get to the bridge and deal with this emergency, whatever it was. Jumping to her feet, she took off down the corridor at a dead run.

=/\=

Jordan ordered Ghegau, “Open a hailing frequency.” She then stood up and directed her voice toward the intercom; “This is Commander Rocky Jordan, aboard the Federation starship U.S.S. McAuliffe. Please identify yourself.”

However, there was no answer. As the XO paced across the bridge, the silence grew oppressive. “Repeat, this is the Federation starship U.S.S. McAuliffe. Identify yourself or prepare to be fired upon.”

The security officer spoke up, “Sir, we are receiving a signal from one of the ships.”

“On screen.”

A strange image then filled the main viewscreen, that of a large humanoid with bright blue hair and beard. He was dressed in a loose-fitting emerald-colored shirt made out of some kind of satiny material, fastened with large gold buttons. “I am Lord Waryn of the Gathering. Why have you intruded into Zingaro territory?” His arms were crossed over his massive chest, and his golden eyes blazed defiantly.

Jordan walked toward the screen, making a conscious effort to keep her voice civil. “Our ship was attacked by a vessel which we traced to this sector. Do you know anything about. . . “

The Zingaro chieftain interrupted the woman, “As you can plainly see, we have no ship in our clan that is capable of attacking a ship the size of yours. However, if you continue to remain in this area, we will be forced to take whatever defensive actions we might be capable of. One little ship might not cause you any harm, but ten of them together might well prove worthy of the task.”

At a gesture from Jordan, Ghegau broke the connection. In answer to her wordless inquiry, she shook her head, “None of the Zingaro ships are any match for us, sir, singly or together.”

Jordan was tempted to order the ship to fire on the chieftain’s craft, thereby effectively silencing his braggadocio. However, she knew that such unprovoked hostility went against what Captain Blanchard would do in this situation, and was quite possibly a violation of the Prime Directive as well. She sighed audibly.

At that moment, the group of Zingaro vessels began to quickly dart around the larger ship, at times approaching as close as they dared before dashing off to what they perceived as a safe distance once more. Jordan was more annoyed than angry, “I’ve had just about enough of this. Commander T’Ku’lhan, can you get a transporter lock on the Zingaro leader?”

“Affirmative, sir,” came the response as the Vulcan’s fingers flew across her console.

“Beam him directly to the bridge.”

Suddenly, Waryn materialized in the center of the bridge, looking mystified and angry at the same time. Following Jordan’s lead, Ghegau pulled her phaser and pointed it at the big humanoid. Finding his voice, he blustered, “What is the meaning of this? I demand to be sent back to my own ship!”

“Not until I get some answers,” demanded the XO. She motioned to Ghegau, “Open a channel to all the Zingaro ships.” Upon a nod from the security chief, Jordan spoke up loudly, “Attention all ships. Lord Waryn is presently a guest on board the McAuliffe. I suggest that you break off your attack immediately, unless you wish to place his life in danger.” Soon all of the smaller craft had assumed standing positions, forming a perimeter around the starship.

Jordan turned on the chief. “Now, suppose you tell me what’s going on here?”

The big man took a belligerent stance. “My business is with Captain Livingston. I’ll speak to no one else.”

Jordan debated inwardly the wisdom of telling Waryn that Livingston was no longer in command of the McAuliffe, and quickly decided against it. “Captain Livingston is unavailable at the moment.”

“I’ll wait,” came the response. Waryn crossed his arms over his chest and looked around him with interest, smiling wickedly.

The XO gestured to Ghegau. “You’ll wait in the brig, then.” The security chief moved down and took hold of the chief’s arm.

Waryn attempted to break away from the woman’s surprisingly firm grip, blustering, “You have no right to treat me this way! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Consider it a well-earned vacation,” Jordan retorted, turning her back on him and moved toward the science officer, feigning interest in the readings on her console as she pointedly ignored Waryn.

As the security chief began to escort him from the bridge, the Zingaro chief grew louder in his protests. “I demand to see Captain Livingston right now!”

Seeming to make casual conversation with Lt. Twi Son, the Chief of Sciences, Jordan remarked, “I guess we could always cram the big oaf into a torpedo tube and fire him in the direction of Livingston’s last known location.” Jordan’s sense of humor, which many might label bizarre, was often expressed in the form of sarcastic commentary such as this. She enjoyed keeping those around her wondering about what she was up to.

Ensign Proto spoke up then from the conn. “Wouldn’t that be extremely hazardous to Lord Waryn’s safety, sir?” More than one person on the bridge forced back a smile at the PHC’s question. Humor, not to mention sarcasm, was often difficult for him to comprehend. The reaction of the Zingaro chief was impossible to gauge, as the turbolift closed at that very moment, carrying him down to the ship’s brig.

=/\=

Commander Jordan left Lord Waryn to stew in the brig for a couple of hours. During this time, the Zingaro ships maintained their position around the McAuliffe, waiting for their chieftain. Their patience seemed to be inexhaustible, as judged from their continued silence. The same could not be said for the XO, however, who alternately looked over the shoulders of the bridge crew and pored over computer records as she sat in the command chair.

Finally, Jordan could stand it no longer. She ordered Ghegau to bring Waryn back to the bridge. While waiting, the XO bent over T’Ku’lhan and whispered something into the pointed ear. The Vulcan responded with the slightest nod of her head in the affirmative.

As soon as the Zingaro chieftain stepped onto the bridge, he exploded. “I demand to see Captain Livingston immediately. This is outrageous!”

“Yes, I have to agree with you,” Jordan responded evenly. “However, I must inform you that Captain Livingston is no longer in command of this ship. I’m afraid you’re going to have to deal with me, after all.”

“You should have told me from the very first that you were Captain of this blasted ship!” Waryn protested loudly.

“Oh, I’m not the captain, either,” Jordan said, smiling crookedly.

The chieftain stamped his feet in irritation. “Then who is the captain of this horrid ship?”

“That would be Captain Adele Blanchard,” the XO promptly replied.

“Then I demand to see her!” Waryn shouted, his face growing purple with rage.

“I’m afraid she is unavailable at the moment,” Jordan answered, almost breaking into laughter, thinking that the chieftain looked at if he was about to explode.

“Then I insist that you return me to my ship and allow my clan to return to their homes!”

“Of course I will,” Jordan nodded. “As soon as we settle this little matter of why you sent that probe to attack us.”

Waryn turned his back on the XO. “I refuse to deal with underlings.” His nose lifted into the air contemptuously.

Jordan’s face darkened for just a moment, before she turned to T’Ku’lhan. “In that case, destroy one of the Zingaro ships. I don’t care which one.” She waved her hand in dismissal.

A stunned Waryn watched the viewscreen, speechless, as a phaser beam darted out from the ship toward one of the waiting craft, reducing it to a cloud of debris. He sputtered and shouted, “How dare you? Those people meant you no harm!”

The XO had somehow forgotten to inform Waryn that, before destroying the Zingaro craft, T’Ku’lhan had transported everyone aboard into one of the McAuliffe’s cargo bays, along with most of their belongings. Here select members of the starship’s security department were closely guarding them. In the meantime, the remaining Zingaro were fleeing toward the safety of the nebula at what was probably maximum velocity.

“Commander, snare the closest of those vessels with tractor beams.” Jordan walked smoothly over to stand directly in front of Waryn, looking him straight in the eye while still speaking to the Vulcan. “Then target forward phasers and wait for my signal to fire.”

Waryn looked as if he was about to soil his trousers. His mouth opened and closed several times as if he was trying to speak, but nothing came out.

The XO continued, speaking directly to the Zingaro this time. “Now, I strongly suggest that you start talking, and do it NOW!” She leaned forward, her eyes blazing.

Then it was Jordan’s turn to back up, a look of surprise on her face as Waryn’s expression changed from fear to apparent triumph. He cackled madly and rubbed his hands together as he chuckled, “My plan worked, it seems!”

Jordan quickly recovered her composure and moved toward the Zingaro once more. Grasping his collar with both hands, she pulled him close so that only he could hear what she said in a threatening tone, “What plan?”

The chieftain assumed an equally threatening tone as he whispered, “Take your hands off me or I won’t say another word.”

A look of disgust on her face, the XO forcefully released her hold on Waryn’s collar and took two steps back, leaning on the console with arms crossed over her chest. “Alright, I’m listening.”

“What I’ve done,” the Zingaro said, gloating, “is to get my revenge on that monster who killed my Jiara.” He looked around the bridge, eyes twinkling mischievously. “That little energy weapon – which we stole, by the way – is slowly shutting down all of the good captain’s cognitive processes. When it is finished with that chore, it will begin to attack the more primitive parts of the brain as well, effectively extinguishing her life one step at a time.” At this, he broke into an evil-sounding laugh.

Jordan took the man by the collar again, this time backing him up until he was against the bulkhead. “What are you babbling about?”

Far from terrified, Waryn spat out his words. “Let Livingston find out that his scheming has taken the life of another innocent victim. Then let him live with that guilt for the rest of his days!” He grinned viciously as he continued, “Oh, and there is no cure for the effects of the ray.”

Jordan removed one hand from the Zingaro’s collar and balled it into a fist, bringing it back level with her head, preparing to launch it full-force at her enemy’s jaw, but Science Officer Twi Son grabbed that fist and prevented her. The Bajoran protested, “No! If you harm him, we’ll never find out how to help the captain!”

Releasing the chieftain with a cry of disgust, Jordan backed a few steps away, her eyes remaining fixed on her adversary. Waryn calmly stepped away from the bulkhead and straightened his clothes with an expression of indignation. The XO spun on her heels and marched back to the command deck. “Take this THING out of my sight, and let him enjoy the hospitality of our brig for a bit longer until I decide what to do with him.” She took three deep breaths, trying to calm down.

After Ghegau and one of her guards had escorted Waryn from the brig, T’Ku’lhan spoke up. “Commander, when Waryn was speaking, I was reminded of an encounter that this ship had with the Zingaro almost five years ago. The McAuliffe was giving chase to a raiding party when one of the Zingaro’s vessels experienced an engine overload. Captain Livingston ordered the transport of all on board to this ship, but it exploded before transport could be completed.”

Taking a seat, Jordan listened rapty to the Vulcan’s words. “Yes, I think I see where you’re going with this.”

“It may well be that this Jiara whom Waryn was referring to was on board that vessel, and that he blames the former captain of this ship for her death.” T’Ku’lhan shook her head slightly. “How very illogical to hold such a grudge for so long, but then Waryn appears to be a highly illogical being.”

The XO nodded thoughtfully. “No, it sounds like a highly logical explanation, at least it does to me.” She closed her eyes for a second, pondering this latest development. Could it indeed be true that Captain Blanchard was merely an innocent victim of some crazed being’s quest for revenge?

“Even so,” Twi spoke up from her station, “we still have no idea how to help the captain.” She rubbed her nose ridges absent-mindedly. “If we knew who the Zingaro got the ray from, that might help us out.”

T’Ku’lhan nodded in agreement. “I’ll begin to scan Starfleet’s weaponry database for any reference to a similar device.”

“Good,” Jordan said as she rose from her seat and headed for the turbo-lift. “In the meantime, I’ll be in Sickbay.”

So, we may know who is behind the attack on the McAuliffe and her captain, and why. But our heroes are no closer to finding a solution to their problem, are they? Will this situation change? Will Rocky Jordan find a way to make Lord Waryn talk? Return here next week to find out.

"Mistaken Identity" Part 2

Attacked on the bridge of her own ship by a weapon of unknown origin, Captain Adele Blanchard lies unconscious in Sickbay. Meanwhile, XO Rocky Jordan finds herself in command of the McAuliffe, searching for who or what is behind the attack on her captain. And yet, Jordan finds time to leave the bridge at this time of crisis to be with her captain. What secret is about to be revealed? Read on and find out.

Jordan took this opportunity to move closer to Blanchard. Putting her hand on the captain’s arm, almost nonchalantly, she stared intently at the other woman’s face.

The captain and her first officer shared a secret that they kept closely guarded from anyone else. The two women had been linked telepathically since their Academy days, when both had barely survived a tragic accident. This helped them work together as a team, and Jordan was able to anticipate Blanchard’s orders almost before they were given. Of course, there was a bad side to this as well. Neither woman could hide her emotions from the other for very long.

Jordan peered intently at the other woman and concentrated. She probed the captain’s mind, looking for some kind of contact with her psyche. However, all she encountered was a great nothingness. Puzzled, she closed her eyes so that she could focus better, and tried again. This time she felt a sensation strangely akin to running into a brick wall. Opening her eyes, she shook her head and readied herself for another attempt. However, she saw Dr. Castle hurrying back from the other patient. Muttering a curse to herself, she backed away from Blanchard. “I’ll be on the bridge if there is any change in the captain’s condition.”

=/\=

Adele Blanchard found herself walking through the corridors of the ship. Looking around, she realized that she was alone, and tapped her comm. badge. “Blanchard to Jordan.” When there was no reply, she tried again. “Blanchard to Jordan. Respond, please.” Again, no answer was forthcoming.

The captain continued walking, and headed in the direction of the turbolift. However, when she got to where she knew the lift doors should have been, the corridor continued on as before. She attempted to open one of the doors on her right, but found it locked. “Computer, unlock this door. Security clearance Blanchard Delta one-six-three.” Pressing the control panel beside the door, she expected it to open. Instead, it remained locked.

Blanchard tried the door on the other side of the corridor, with the same result. Beginning to become concerned the captain spoke, “Blanchard to anyone on board, please respond.” Her call was met by silence, and she tried a different tactic. “Computer, what is my present location?” But again there was no answer. Feeling frustrated, and fighting the first twinges of fear, she turned and went back the way she had come.

Suddenly, the captain heard a loud voice calling, as if from a long way off. “Adele!” It sounded like Rocky Jordan.

Breaking into a trot, Blanchard made her way down the corridor. “Number One, what is your present location?” But there was no answer.

After what seemed like several minutes, the voice could be heard again. “Alright, Princess, move your tail feathers. I’m getting tired of waiting for you.” At first the captain smiled inwardly at her XO’s manner of address, knowing that no disrespect was intended. However, Blanchard also knew that she wouldn’t speak so unless they were alone, and certainly never over an open intercom. Something was very wrong here.

Blanchard’s voice betrayed her irritation. “Commander Jordan, report please.” What in blazes was going on?

=/\=

Rocky Jordan returned to the bridge and sat down in the center seat. She sensed, rather than saw, more than one pair of eyes following her. “Ensign Proto, what is our current heading?”

The PHC replied without looking back. “We are currently on course to the Marshall Nebula. At our current speed of Warp 3.4, we should arrive there in six hours, twenty-seven minutes, and twelve point seventeen seconds.”

T’Ku’lhan spoke up. “Commander, I have traced the probe’s ion trail to a small planetoid within the nebula. I took the initiative of ordering a course change, as you were occupied elsewhere.”

Jordan nodded. “Well done, Commander. Increase speed to Warp 4.” She stood up and retreated to the captain’s ready room. She needed to decide what to do next, and she preferred not to do it under the scrutiny of the bridge crew.

When the first officer entered the ready room, however, she faced a moment of indecision. She walked slowly into the room and stood before the desk for several seconds, as if pondering her next move. Then, almost reluctantly, she moved behind the desk and lowered herself into the seat, taking a deep breath as she placed her hands on top of it.

Soon, the door chime sounded. Upon being given permission to enter, T’Ku’lhan came in and stood before the desk. “What can I do for you, Commander?” Jordan asked, trying not to sound too brusque.

The Vulcan woman came right to the point, as usual. “The Zingaro have recently been reported raiding transport ships in the area of the Marshall Nebula. I would suggest caution in our approach.”

“Yes, Commander,” Jordan replied with a nod. “I have read Starfleet’s reports on the Zingaro. Do you think they are behind the probe’s attack?” She leaned forward slightly and studied the other woman.

“The Zingaro do not have the scientific capabilities of constructing such a device. However, they have been known to acquire sophisticated technology from other races, either through trade or theft.” T’Ku’lhan continued to stand erect before the desk, hands behind her back.

“But why would the Zingaro send such a long-range device to attack a Federation starship?”

The Vulcan woman speculated with a slight cock of her head, “One might wonder if the weapon was intended specifically for the captain, since she was the only one affected.”

Jordan mentally chastised herself for not considering that possibility. “If that was the case, what reason would they have for targeting Captain Blanchard?”

“I do not know, sir,” came the reply. “You are much more familiar with the captain’s service history than I am. And, indeed, I may be mistaken in my assumption. However, I recommend that we consider it as one possibility.” The woman gave the slightest of smirks, suggesting that she wasn’t accustomed to acknowledging mistakes.

“Thank you, I will,” the XO responded. She paused for a moment as if lost in thought. Then she looked up and nodded at the Vulcan. “Dismissed, Commander.” She started to turn in her chair but was interrupted by the Vulcan.

“If I may inquire, sir, what is the captain’s condition?”

“She is being cared for by our able Dr. Castle,” Jordan answered carefully, unwilling to admit to the truth for more reasons than one. “The captain was knocked temporarily unconscious, but she should be well and able to return to duty shortly.”

T’Ku’lhan raised an eyebrow slightly at this, but refrained from commenting. “That is very good news, sir..” With that, she turned and left the bridge.

The first officer turned to the computer viewscreen and called up information on the Zingaro. If they had once had a planetary home, this fact was now lost to history. According to the Starfleet data bank, they were a nomadic people, with groups of extended family members traveling in a cluster of small vessels. They lived by trading with other races, and were not averse to stealing what they needed . . . or wanted.

The Zingaro usually avoided contact with the major powers – the Federation, Klingons, and Cardassians. (Their activities in Romulan space were largely unknown, but it was presumed that the same held true with them.) One of the few planets they shared friendly relations with was Ferenginar, not surprisingly.

But, for the most part, the Zingaro were not an aggressive people, preferring to strike quickly and run. If they were behind the attack on the McAuliffe, it would be very uncharacteristic of them. Was the ship a victim of a random act of mischief, or had she been targeted for a specific reason? And if the attack was aimed directly at the captain, as T’Ku’lhan had suggested, then why? To the best of her knowledge, Blanchard had not run afoul of the Zingaro during her career. Jordan leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers over her chest, pondering the matter.

The first officer’s ruminations were interrupted by the arrival of the good Dr. Castle. Jordan instantly sat erect, her face showing her concern, and asked, “What is the captain’s condition?”

The doctor took a seat across from the desk and crossed her arms. “She is much the same as when you saw her last. Her vital signs have stabilized, and by my calculations she should have regained consciousness by now. But she steadfastly remains unresponsive to all external stimuli. I must admit that I’m currently at a loss as to how to explain her condition, let alone treat it.”

Normally Jordan would have taken this opportunity to direct a few jibes at the doctor, but her concern for Blanchard drove that thought from her mind for the moment. “How do you intend to proceed?” The XO got up from behind the desk and began to pace from one end of the room to the other.

“There is one course of action that I hadn’t tried yet. Frankly, I was reluctant to do so until I had ruled out every other avenue,” Castle related. “Ensign Lorenc in Xenobotany is a Betazoid. I would like for him to try using telepathy to reach the captain’s subconscious mind.”

Jordan stopped dead in her tracks at this, momentarily thankful that she was outside of the doctor’s line of sight. Her face clouded over for the briefest interval, before she managed to harden her expression once more. “No, Doctor, I don’t think that’s a very good idea, to be honest.”

Castle turned around to face the XO, surprise showing openly on her face. “No? Why in the great galaxy would you resist such a thing?”

The other woman moved to the desk and sat down once more. “Well, Doctor, I know Captain Blanchard a little better than you do. Remember, I’ve served with her for a number of years. I have reason to believe that what you’re talking about just won’t work.” She crossed her arms before her, almost defiantly.

Shaking her head as if in disbelief, the doctor remarked, “I can’t believe that you wouldn’t want to try something that might possibly have a chance of helping the captain.”

Jordan leaned forward slightly, looking at the other woman directly. “I can’t explain further at the moment, but I want to make it clear that I don’t want Ensign Lorenc or anyone else to invade the captain’s mind.”

Now it was Castle’s turn to pace around the ready room. “Well, I’m willing to go along with your wishes for now. But there may come a time, very soon, when I’ll be left with no other choice. And when that time comes, quite frankly, your opinions won’t have a chance of swaying my decision.”

The XO nodded to indicate her understanding, but remained silent.

The doctor looked as if she was about to say something more, but thought better of it. She turned to leave, but when she got to the door turned to face Jordan once again. “Are you sure you’re capable of handling this mission, Commander?” The expression on her face showed that she, herself, wasn’t sure at all of Jordan’s ability to command in a crisis like this.

Jordan rose from the desk, her face a mask, and moved to stand directly in front of the doctor. “I can’t think of anyone on this ship more capable, Doctor. You certainly have your hands full trying to save the captain’s life. And, besides, Captain Blanchard herself seemed to think that I was the right person for this job.” If Dr. Castle wanted a fight, she would be happy to oblige.

But the doctor refused to back down. “I was going to suggest that you wait for help from Starfleet. After all, it was only three months ago that you took your Bridge Officer’s Exam.”

The first officer suddenly didn’t care about concealing her anger. “Doctor, I assure you that I am quite capable of performing the duties of command in the absence of Captain Blanchard. And, as long as we’re speaking candidly, the captain may have appointed me to this position, but Starfleet Headquarters confirmed my position. So, unless you plan to declare me unfit for duty on medical grounds, I suggest that you get back to doing your job and let me do mine.” Jordan took a deep breath, forcing herself to move back a step. “Dismissed.” She spun around on her heel and marched back to the desk, sitting there as if defying anyone to remove her.

When the doctor had left, Jordan took several deep breaths in order to regain control of her emotions. When she was sure that her face would show none of the stress that she was feeling, she returned to t he bridge. “What is our ETA, Ensign?” she queried Proto.

“The ship should arrive at the Marshall Nebula in forty minutes and twelve seconds, sir,” the PHC responded promptly.

Jordan sat down in the center seat and waited impatiently for the ship to reach its destination.

=/\=

When the Marshall Nebula became visible on the main viewscreen, Proto brought the ship out of warp, to one-quarter impulse, per the first officer’s instructions. “Commander T’Ku’lhan,” Jordan asked, “do ship’s sensors show any sign of Zingaro activity in the area?”

The Vulcan woman’s fingers flew across her console for a moment before she answered, “Sensors are having difficulty penetrating the nebula, sir. There are some indefinite readings, however I am unable to ascertain whether they are coming from ships or not. I am attempting to reconfigure the sensors to break through the interference.”

“Do so,” ordered the XO. “Signal yellow alert, Commander Ghegau. We don’t know what we’re up against here.”

“Aye, sir,” came the quick reply from the ship’s security chief.

As the ship drew closer to the nebula, Jordan commanded, “Full stop engines.” After a moment she spoke to no one in particular, “Now, let’s sit here and wait for a bit, and see if anyone comes out to meet us.” Privately, she thought that if there was going to be a fight, she would just as soon do it outside the margins of the nebula, where visibility was better.

At that very moment, a group of ten vessels came rushing out of the nebula toward the McAuliffe. They were a mixed-up hodge-podge of small craft from various worlds, all relatively small and most likely capable of low warp speeds at best. They formed a ring around the larger ship and held that position.

Jordan barked an order, “Red alert!” As klaxons sounded all over the ship she muttered, “It looks like the welcoming committee has arrived.”

It finally appears as if we are about to discover who is behind the attack on Captain Blanchard, and why. Or are we? Return here next week to find out the answer to this question and more.