"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.