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Ensign Beckett Mariner wondered if it would just be the ship’s brig, or if they would eventually take her somewhere off-ship. The guards behind her weren’t from the Cerritos, so she bet on the latter. Currently, they were escorting her to one of the ship’s smaller conference rooms typically used for second-contact administrative matters. Every culture and species has its bean-counters, I-dotters, and T-crossers. This conference room was designed especially for them. For that reason, it was one of Boimler’s favorites and it wouldn’t be the first time Beckett discovered whatever fate awaited her in this particular room. At least she wasn’t in cuffs this time.
The very last person she expected to see when the doors swished open was Commander Deanna Troi.
“Ensign Mariner,” the commander said, pushing her chair back and coming around the table. To the guards, she said, “Thank you, gentleman.” When they hesitated, she added, “You are dismissed.”
When they were gone, she turned back to Beckett: “Please take a seat. I sense you have many questions. ”
Beckett remained standing. “Oh, no. If they sent you, it must be bad. Is it gonna be Captain Jellico?”
Since they’d walked her mother off the ship in cuffs, her brain was made of one Beckett freaking out about her mother, and another Beckett freaking out about what kind of hardboiled martinet they’d bring in to keep a lid on things.
“Admiral Jellico has his hands full at Starfleet Command,” said Commander Troi. She gestured again to the seat, and with as much velvet as steel in her voice: “Beckett, sit.”
She dropped ungracefully into the chair. Commander Troi took her own seat with the grace of a clouded leopard. Her large Betazed irises - the utter black under heavy, long lashes - made for sultry feline eyes that seemed to see through you, into your soul. Her richly accented voice completed the image of a woman who was entering into maturity in the very bloom of beauty.
Commander Troi continued: “Let’s get the worry out of the way first, yes? I will be taking command of the Cerritos until matters are settled.”
Beckett took note that she had not said until a suitable replacement is found.
“Permission to speak freely?” Beckett requested.
With a Mona Lisa smile and an elegant gesture, Commander Troi said, “Always.”
“You’re not a captain and you’re not on the command track. You’re a counselor,” Beckett observed.
“All true,” Commander Troi replied, clearly ready for this contingency. “All highly unusual. But you serve on the Cerritos where I'm told the unusual is the norm.”
“That's an understatement.”
“Starfleet Command feels that the Cerritos needs special attention at the moment.” She held up her hand to stave off the retort already on Beckett’s lips. “Trust me, when I served on the Enterprise, she was in need of special attention all the time. It’s part and parcel of any ship and crew that find themselves in unusual circumstances. Captain Freeman may be many things, but a coward, she is not. Your crew has seen things most captains of a California class ship would avoid or pass on to another, larger ship.”
“We never back down, Commander. Cerritos strong!”
“As your mother is fond of saying. You must be very worried about her.”
“Who, mom? What? No! Do you know what’s going on?”
Of course, she was worried. All that celebration, plucking the Archimedes from the very brink of disaster, just to watch her get walked off the ship like a criminal, with nothing but a wild accusation and not a word of explanation to any of them, not that lower decks ever got explanations. But Captain Freeman was her mom. She’d figured at least that should hold some weight, but she’d been wrong.
“I do not,” she replied. “I very specifically asked not to be informed. My job is here, with the crew. And right now, with you. I know she is safe and has come to no harm, but that’s all.”
"We both know mom had nothing to do with what happened to Pakled Planet."
"I am not at liberty to discuss that, Ensign Mariner."
“Fine,” Beckett said, leaning into the table, lacing her fingers in front of her. “I may as well tell you that I don’t really do therapy and counseling.”
“I am aware. In fact…” She swiped through a few screens on the PADD in front of her until she found what she wanted. “I would like to talk about Vindicta.” She gently slid the PADD toward Beckett. “You created this program to get around therapy.”
“How’d you get that?”
“As acting captain, I have full access. As a senior counselor, I have full access. And under Starfleet Command’s purview, I have access.
And because she did not want to talk about it, Beckett said, “Yeah, it was great. Learned sooo many things about myself! I highly recommend it.”
“You may be surprised to hear that I agree with you,” Commander Troi replied, again clearly ready. “Roleplay is an excellent format in which to directly tap into situations, choices, and emotions that can be more real and dynamic than merely talking about them. I get the impression that you’re the kind of officer who does rather than talks. Captain Riker is much the same. No surprise that the two of you get along so well.”
“Look, if this is about the contraband, it was just some Romulan ale, and like, a few tribbles. Nothing major.”
“We can talk about all that later, but right now what I want to talk about is you and your friends in that program.” Commander Troi slid the PADD to the side, clearing the space between them. “Specifically the roles you gave to each of them and to yourself.”
“It wasn’t my program, to begin with,” Beckett attempted to redirect.
But Commander Troi wasn’t having it: “The logs indicate it was a program Ensign Boimler created in order to practice for an interview with the captain.”
“Yeah, so lame.”
“You consider preparing for an important interview to be lame?”
“I consider making fake holodeck people whose responses have no actual impact on your real life to be very, very, very lame. Yes. Super lame. Extra lame on the side in a cute little ramekin.”
“But you just said that those fake holodeck people taught you so much about yourself.”
Not even five minutes had passed and Commander Troi already had her pinned in a corner. Becket had to restrain a low throat growl.
“Yeah, well…” She shrugged off the apparent checkmate.
“I would like to focus on the real people who were in that program with you. Let’s start with Ensign D’Vana Tendi.” She began reading directly from the PADD. “Who was playing your savage warrior queen and who came from a long line of thieving Orion pirates.”
“Okay, I know that doesn’t hold up after the fact, but Tendi and I talked it out. We’re cool. She’s a cool Orion, not a thieving pirate.”
“All right, then,” she replied, though her tone said she wasn’t remotely convinced. “How about Ensign Samanthan Rutherford, or as you renamed him, Bionic 5. Half man meat, half robot meat, one hundred percent pain? I’ve met Ensign Rutherford. He’s a very sweet young man.”
“Hey, I hear you on the Tendi thing - no doubt, I was out of line - but Rutherford was into it. If you watched the playback, then you know that.”
“I watched the playback before I came over. Twice. And the fact that he was into it is what disturbs me.”
“Well, talk to him about it.”
“I did. He was following your lead. You were in command in that simulation. Ensign Tendi pushed back and left the simulation early, but Ensign Rutherford stayed. How do you account for that?”
“He was having fun?”
“I didn’t ask you to explain. I asked you to account for it. Accountability is what I’m getting at, Ensign Mariner.”
“Ugh! You sound just like my mom.”
“I’m happy to hear it. Those are the words that should be coming from a captain to one of her crew. When you stepped in here and saw me, you mentioned Admiral Jellico with dread. I’ve worked with him, and he certainly is a demanding officer.”
“Yeah, he’s not cool like Riker.”
“Captain Riker, Ensign.” She leaned back in her chair and released an uncharacteristic sigh of frustration. “Perhaps that’s part of the problem. You’ve been promoted and demoted how many times? You’ve worked with a wide array of officers from different ships, on many different missions. You should be at least a commander by now. Your record at the Academy is exemplary, and your list of commendations is just as long as your list of demerits and reprimands. And that’s just the official record. I was well briefed before taking this post and the stories I’ve heard about you… well… you certainly do not lack bravery or quick thinking under pressure.” She leaned forward. “Accountability is what’s missing, and I think you like it that way.”
“I answer for my mistakes. There’s a brig that’s pretty much my private quarters here on the Cerritos.”
“Yes. You go on a mission, fail to follow the mission brief, do as you please, get yourself in trouble, and often others as well. But why would you need to fear the brig when your mother is the captain, your father is an admiral, one of your drinking buddies and most flush sources of contraband is Captain Riker, and the list goes on and on. You have all the perks of a senior officer without any of the weight.”
“Or decent replicators. Or my own room.”
“Or accountability.”
“Accountability sucks.”
“Perhaps, but it’s the price for all those perks, Ensign Mariner. I think you did learn something about yourself that first time through the program. You learned about where you want to be and perhaps what you want to be doing, but Starfleet is not a one-woman show. It’s about the team.”
Commander Troi got up from her chair and walked to the viewport in the conference room. Stars stretched into rainbow streaks past the ship. Beckett watched the woman take in a deep breath and let out another uncharacteristic sigh.
“I am about to break protocol to a very severe degree,” she said. “At least as far as the ethics of my profession are concerned. And the irony of what I am about to do is not lost on me.”
“Ooo! Breakin the law, breakin the law!”
She turned back around. “In the Kalla System, when Ensign Rutherford was recovered from the shuttle and the captain saw that he’d had his implant forcibly removed during the Pakled attack, after that, Captain Freeman requested time with me professionally while the Cerritos was hauled to space dock for repair. She was devastated by what happened to him.”
“My mom? Devastated? Crewmen get injured all the time, and she’s basically made out of tritanium. And, whatever - he was fine. He even got a new upgraded implant out of it.”
“Captain Freemen spent most of her time while the ship was under repair placing calls and cashing in favors to make that replacement happen for Ensign Rutherford. Many favors. The Vulcan Science Academy doesn’t just hand out positronic devices.”
Commander Troi slid the PADD back in front of her, swiped through more screens, then passed the PADD over.
“There are thirty-seven upper echelon letters of request and recommendation there. All of them signed. Thirty-seven very high-ranking Starfleet officers your mother spoke to personally, told them what happened, and begged them to help her so she could help Ensign Rutherford regain what he had lost saving the Cerritos. That, Ensign Mariner, is accountability. That’s a captain. As they used to say on Earth, she made sure the buck stopped with her, not with Samanthan.”
Beckett flipped through the letters. It was a veritable who’s who of Starfleet big-wigs and big-shots, but most unbelievable of all was the letter from Admiral Jellico. It was the only one she read all the way through. He described Captain Freeman as an unsung hero, an underdog, an officer made of grit and steel. He said that if she was asking, then the person it was for had to be someone very special. She continued reading and was stunned at the final paragraph.
“Jellico gave the Vulcans three choice research positions in different parts of the quadrant in exchange for the replacement,” she said in disbelief.
“Whatever you may think of Admiral Jellico, Rutherford’s sacrifice was not lost on him. Those research positions are very choice, just as you describe. Reserved for only the best. And whatever you may think of Captain Freeman, she pulled out all the stops to help your friend. I hope I can count on your discretion now that you understand what’s in play.”
“Of course,” Beckett replied. “But I was the one who came up with the idea for the virus and mom was the one who let Rutherford go when Peanut Hamper refused. She’s the one who put him in danger. Rutherford would never refuse the captain. Not ever.”
“It’s my understanding that he wasn’t ordered. He volunteered.”
Beckett could still hear how overjoyed he was to be able to help.
“That’s true. He did.”
“Why did he do that?”
“To help.”
“Obviously,” the commander replied. “I mean, given the level of danger the ship was in, why did a young ensign in engineering undertake a high-stakes mission, a mission so dangerous, it would have failed had the Titan not come in to assist? Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Rutherford’s just kinda weird.”
“He did it because Captain Freeman has earned his unquestioning trust. Would you have done something like that for Admiral Jellico when he was a captain?”
“Probably not.”
“Ensign Rutherford did for Captain Freeman. And that brings us back to the day in the holodeck. Ensign Rutherford would follow you into that same firefight. He would do that for you because no matter how many rules you break and regulations you step on, he trusts that you care about him the way the captain does. He trusts that you understand the unwritten contract that exists between all of us who wear the uniform. Do you think that’s what you were showing him in the holodeck?”
It felt like she was coughing up sand to say, “No. It wasn’t.”
“And when you disintegrated Shempo, the avatar you created to stand in for Ensign Boimler? We haven’t even gotten to that part yet.”
“Okay, okay. I boned it. I know. But, in my defense, Boimler took a freakin promotion to the Titan right after the Pakled incident and just dipped out without even saying goodbye, so I feel like we’re even on that.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right, Ensign Mariner.”
“I know two Boimlers don’t make a right. How’s the clone doing?”
“Full Luitenant William Boimler is doing fine. He’s a bit less yellie than the original,” Commander Troi replied with a wide grin.
“Oh, my God. Do not tell Brad his clone got promoted again! Unless I’m there and can watch. Then, yeah.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said with the same grin. “In the meantime, I have a mission for you. Ensign Rutherford is finalizing a new program for you and your friends. There’s a great deal of randomization and he doesn’t know the real purpose of the program. I hear his own creations in the holodeck are quite realistic and detailed.”
“Mostly boring stuff only an engineer would think is fun, but I have to give credit where it’s due. His textures are seamless, with no repeating patterns, and he really does code every blade of grass by hand. I mean, who does that? And, sorry for asking, Commander, but you seem kinda focused on him. Like it’s personal. What’s that about?”
“He reminds me of a dear friend I lost. Commander Data. And you’re attempting to distract me.”
“Can’t blame a girl for trying. What’s the mission?”
“It’s simple. Get everyone home in one piece. Make choices that reflect the concern a Starfleet officer should have for her crew.”
“Pfft. Is that it?”
“Break no rules.”
“Aha. I knew there’d be a catch.” Beckett frowned.
“Hey,” Beckett said, sliding into the booth she, Tendi, Rutherford, and Boimler usually shared. Tendi and Boimler looked nervous and unsure what to say. Rutherford was distant, spooning food into his mouth absently, his right eye unfocused, his eyepiece scrolling data at a furious rate.
Boimler nudged Tendi with an elbow.
“So, have you heard the news?” Tendi asked, sounding pained.
“Of course. It’s all anyone’s talking about. I already had a meeting with her.”
“Me too,” said Rutherford. He put his spoon down when it missed the bowl. The data on his eyepiece cleared and was replaced by the standard digital iris. “Wow, wait until you guys see this new program! Tom Paris coded most of it. It’s not Captain Proton, but it’s really great. There’s some dead space outside the intended parameters, though. I guess it was put together pretty quickly. I’ve been filling in the thin spots.”
Beckett said, “Yeah, she told me she’d met with you first.”
And now, it was impossible not to see Rutherford as he’d been when they’d gotten him off the shuttle. Academically, she’d always known it was rarely pretty underneath an implant, especially one as extensive and deeply set into the cranium as his. She’d known there was no left eye hiding under the eyepiece and his left ear was purely artificial, but knowing and seeing are two different things. There’d been so much blood and the damaged connections that led to the deeper portions of the implant hiding inside his brain had just been hanging there, like something trying to get out of his head. He’d been completely unresponsive, barely breathing. Beckett had been sure he was dead. Dr. T’Ana had taken control of the situation, and though her manner lacked any kind of decorum, she’d been obeyed without question. Even Commander Ransom had humbly asked what he could do to help.
“You doing all right there, Rutherford?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m great. Just running a clarifying subroutine to boost the resolution.”
“So,” Boimler interjected. “You had a meet and greet with the commander already? Did she mention me? Or my clone?”
“Your clone is fine, Brad.” She wanted so badly to tell him his clone had been promoted, but somehow the joy just wasn’t in it right now. “When are we doing this thing?”
“It’s almost ready,” Rutherford replied. “It should finish uploading by the time we’re done here. You’re not eating?”
“Not hungry,” she replied. “What’s it called, the program?”
Rutherford made dramatic hand gestures. “Vindicta, Agent of Chaos VS Shempo, Follower of Rules.”
Everyone but Rutherford groaned.
“Didn’t you phaser Shempo?” Tendi asked.
Boimler cut in, “Wait, I was supposed to be Shempo last time. Am I still him? Is it gonna be you against me?”
“Ask him,” said Beckett, hooking a thumb at Rutherford.
“I’m not supposed to say anything.” Rutherford scratched the back of his implant and grimaced uncomfortably. “I gave the commander my word.”
“Lay off him, guys. We’ll find out soon enough,” Tendi added.
And for a small moment that she shoved down as fast as she could, Rutherford’s words stung. His loyalty was different than Boimler’s. It was quiet and never quoted regulations at you, but it did expect that you also knew those regulations and respected them.
Man, Commander Troi is good, she thought.
And Tendi, she was always so full of energy and up for anything. It was easy to forget she never gave less than her all. Or worse, it was too easy to write that off as being a try-hard.
And though Boimler was the epitome of a try-hard, he really was trying. He really did want to give more.
She sighed and resigned herself to whatever the program would roll out for them.
Near the end of their meal, a small band of lights on Rutherford’s implant rolled from red to orange, yellow to green.
“It’s done, guys,” he informed. “These are the instructions Commander Troi gave me. It’s in holodeck two, the big one. Tendi, you and Boimler go first and get into costume. Beckett, you and me are supposed to wait for about twenty minutes so the program can give them their parts and narrative.”
When there was just a lot of uncomfortable shifting of butts in the booth, Beckett said, “Come on, guys. Sooner we start, sooner we’re done.”
Boimler slipped out followed by Tendi, both taking their trays to the disposal.
“See you there,” Tendi said waving goodbye.
When it was just the two of them, she asked again, “You sure you’re okay, man?”
“Yeah. Never better.” He gave her a quizzical look. “Are you okay? Everyone’s trying to dance around it, but it’s gotta be weird about your mom, right?”
“They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. She’s been in a few scrapes before. She’ll get out of this one.”
“If you say so. I trust you,” he replied. “We’re both in the same parts as before. I can tell you that much.”
“Hey, about that. Calling you Bionic 5 was really insensitive of me. You’re way more than just a cyborg.”
“I appreciate that, but also, I am a cyborg! Bionic 5!” he replied with classic Rutherford enthusiasm and struck an old-timie strongman pose. “There are only a handful of us in Starfleet, so it’s cool being different and almost unique. I can do things like edit holodeck programs right in my head, or hear when an EPS array is out of phase just walking by it. If you could see what I see when I look at the warp core, you’d understand. It’s beautiful.”
“You don’t ever regret having it installed?”
“I don’t really remember how that went down since the replacement. A lot of my memory from before is just gone, but I know I’m happy now, so I think I made a good choice. I can do things for the Cerritos no one else can, at least not without a bunch of extra equipment. It’s good to feel needed.”
She sighed and said, “Can’t argue with that.”
Beckett and Rutherford stood in front of holodeck two in full marauder uniform. Vindicta had her warpaint and Bionic 5 had his battle suit.
“You been working out, Sam?” she asked, noting the extra muscle.
“When I have the time. Thanks for noticing.”
“How are things with Barnes?”
His lips drew into a thin line. “Mmm. Probably not gonna happen. She’s super pretty and really cool, but we’re on different paths.”
“Well, we need to fix that - find you someone new.”
“I was thinking of asking Brad on a date. Would that be weird, since we’re friends?”
Beckett almost choked on her own saliva. “Dude, how are you gonna just drop a subspace depth charge on me like that right before we go in there?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t realize it would be that, and you’re his best friend. I figured you’d be the right person to ask.”
“Oh, my God, Sam! I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with that right now, but we are talking about that later. And if things get in the way, I beg you, please don’t do anything unless I’m there. Promise me!”
“Okie dokie!”
She took a deep breath and said, “Let’s get this over with.”
The doors to the holodeck swished open and presented the bridge of the modified Klingon D7 battle cruiser she’d used as her marauder-mobile. But someone had remodeled it. The interior was covered in large panels of unmarked blinking lights, all of them looking like candy jewels. Her throne was even more elaborate than before. In the corner was some kind of large weapon that had no business on the bridge and there were strange pylons with metallic orbs that had dramatic electrical charges running nakedly between them, sizzling in actinic bluish-white.
The Captian Proton influence was everywhere.
Rutherford took a seat at what appeared to be a navigation console, though it was festooned with cruel-looking devices of unknown purpose. He swiveled in his chair and said, “Awaiting your orders Captain Vindicta.”
“Where’s Tendi and Boimler?” she asked.
Remaining in character, Rutherford stood sharply and thumped his chest with his bionic arm.
“D’Vana Tendi was captured, Captain, as I am sure you remember,” he said with a wink. “And I have no knowledge of what a Boimler is.”
“Ah, yes, okay. I see,” she said, trying to get into the mood. “Scan the vicinity for any ships or signs of life, Bionic 5.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” He sat and operated the strange controls. “There’s a signal, Captain. Dead ahead. Just outside of visual range. It’s really big and really strange.”
“How strange, Bionic 5? I want details!”
“Life signs are scattered and defused. I can’t get an exact number, but it’s a lot.” Sam craned his neck around to the throne. “We’re being hailed, Captain. Audio only.”
“Let’s hear it.”
Rutherford’s fingers flew across the controls.
“We are Shempo, Follower of Rules. Lower your shields and surrender your ship. We will add all your stuff to our stuff. Getting persnickety about it is a waste of time.”
It would have been terrifying had it been the real Borg spiel broadcast in the typically robotic Borg collective voice. But it was Boimler, doing a better rendition of Shempo’s squeaky clown voice than the computer had.
With a fist in the air, she said, “Fire at will, Bionic 5! We shall feed our need for vengeance. A feast, I say!”
“Firing, Captain!”
Buzzing and unusual whirring sounds from the electrical pylons were the only sign they’d fired.
“No effect, Captain! Their shields are on rotating frequencies. We can’t get through,” he reported. “Wait, we’re getting a visual signal.”
“On screen!”
There was darkness at first. She wasn’t sure the screen was even on. Then a deep green glow illuminated what seemed to be a table in a smoky, but otherwise empty room. Tendi was strapped down, her wrists and ankles at each point of the table with some kind of metal tubing. She struggled and writhed beneath the baleful glow that lent her naturally green skin an almost black cast. She was dressed in the same outfit she’d worn last time.
“As you see, Vindicta, Agent of Chaos,” Shempo clown-said. “We have the Orion. Give up and join us or your friend suffers.”
“Don’t listen to them, Captain!” Tendi cried. “They smell like old garbage bags and can’t be trusted. Blast them out of the sky!”
Boimler, as Shempo, coalesced out of the dark behind the table where Tendi was strapped down as captive. He was dressed as some kind of low-tech Borg. A bright red line of laser light came from the implant over one of his eyes. She was taken out of the moment when she realized how similar it was to Rutherford’s Vulcan implant.
“What do you want, Shempo?” she growled.
“We want what we said. Keep up. Lower your shields and allow us to beam you over. Then your friend will be safe. We are Shempo, Follower of Rules.” Boimler made a show of wringing his hands like a Ferengi.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Follower of Rules. Give me back my sav-” No, that was going in the wrong direction. “Give me back my brave warrior queen, and I may consider letting you live.”
“No deal, Vindicta. We have made ourselves clear. We will give you five minutes to decide.”
The screen went dark.
She leaned back into her throne. “I need ideas, Bionic 5.”
“When the visual signal came through, their shield frequencies stabilized and stopped rotating. “Instead of letting them beam us, what if we beamed over ourselves?”
“Ah, yes. We’d have the upper hand. Good thinking, Bionic 5.” She rubbed her chin dramatically in thought. “How long before they detect us? Don’t they communicate through a shared signal?”
“I can use my implant to integrate into their communications network, Captain. That will disguise us electronically. We just need some costumes in order to blend in visually.”
“There’s all sorts of junk in here, Bionic 5. Think you can cobble together something convincing in a few minutes?”
“Hell yeah, Captain!” His eye went huge. “I mean, yes Captain!”
She hopped off the throne to help Rutherford. Parts and pieces, bits and bobs came off with suspicious ease. She grinned to herself having recognized a conveniently open plot point. She brought her collection over to Rutherford who was piling his on the navigation console.
“Watch,” he said. The tip of one of his bionic fingers folded back and a torch shot from the end. He welded the collection into a makeshift headpiece for her and several different body pieces for both of them. Black plastic sheeting covering an unfinished repair to a computer bank was torn from the wall and tucked around their costumes. The body pieces attached with magnets. The headpiece was basically a skullcap and just fit like a hat.
“You’re a genius, Bionic 5! I knew saving you from the Rellian gladiator pits would pay off.”
“… what?” Rutherford asked.
“Just improvising, man. I’m in the groove!”
Rutherford laughed.
“How do I look?” she asked.
“Like a Shempo, Captain.”
“Ew, but good,” she replied. “As soon as the visual signal comes through, get a lock and beam us over.”
The signal came as they futzed over their disguises. Rutherford did his thing at the control panel and they swirled out of existence and onto the Shempo ship.
“Steampunk? Nice,” observed Beckett as the dark interior of the Shempo ship swirled into view.
Copper, brass, and bronze tubing connected an endless series of pod-like stations that ran into infinity down the four spokes of the corridor intersection where they stood. Vapor and the sound of steam pistons permeated the air. The same eerie green glow backlit everything.
“Bionic 5, have you patched into their comms yet?”
“Yes, Captain,” he whispered. “They’re everywhere. Keep your voice down.”
She scanned the area again and this time she saw them tucked into form-fit blanks around which the tubing and pipes ran.
They all appeared to be dormant.
She leaned close to Rutherford. “What are you getting?”
“Lots and lots of schedules. It’s weird. It’s like each of these guys is a square on a spreadsheet that keeps updating.”
“This place is a maze,” said Beckett. “We’ll never find where they’re keeping Tendi.”
Tapping his implant, Rutherford said, “I already know where she is, but it’s far and on another deck and-” He broke off and his gaze went unfocused. “Oh, no. They’re doing a shift change. We need a place to hide.” He looked down the dark corridor. “This way!”
They shuffled down the corridor, metal grating beneath their feet with vapor rising from beneath it.
“Turn here,” said Rutherford.
They made a left, Rutherford scanning the walls.
“Here,” he said. “No one is scheduled for these two pods on this shift. We can hide here until they all get to their next stations. We have to fit into their shift changes.”
So, these are the rules I can’t break, she thought to herself
They each slipped into the blank spot that best fit. She looked around one last time to make sure she was doing a convincing impersonation of their stiff-shouldered stance.
Soon the soft shuffle of rubber-soled feet filled the air. She dared to peek with one eye and saw the many Shempo passing back and forth.
It was hard to know how much time had passed. She didn’t dare peek again, and the shuffle slowed, but every time she thought perhaps the shift change was done, another set of shuffling feet came down the hall.
Finally, Rutherford tapped her on the shoulder and gestured for her to follow. They walked several corridors as fast as they could without running, trying not to attract attention, and then up a ladder of tubular rungs set into the wall. The next level up was identical to the one they’d just left, but Rutherford seemed sure of where they were going. They walked for what seemed an eternity before he pointed her to two more empty pods. These were tucked into the shadow of a partial wall that made an alcove. The last pods had been open to the corridor leaving them to depend on their costumes - these at least afforded a modicum of protection.
“Rutherford,” she whispered from her pod.
“Whisper quieter,” he warned. “Just move your lips. My implant can hear you.”
She’d known he could hear things she couldn’t, but somehow she’d always thought it was a technical thing, something that helped him work in engineering. She’d have to remember in the future not to whisper in his presence expecting him not to hear.
“You really gonna ask Boimler on a date?” she lipped silently.
“Yeah. Bad idea?”
“Not bad, just complicated. Boimler doesn’t react well to the unexpected. We all thought it was pretty much just girls for you. If anything, I thought maybe Tendi.”
The soft rubber shuffling of feet began again.
“If you think I shouldn’t, I won’t.”
“No, I think you should. But let me be wingman for you. I know all his buttons and quirks.”
“You’d do that?”
“I am Vindicta, Agent of Chaos. If I can’t wingman for my buddy, what good am I to anyone? Of course, I’d do that for you.”
“You’ve been kinda weird since you had your meeting with Commander Troi.”
“Yeah, it’s just…”
“It’s okay. I know that’s private stuff.”
Maybe it was better not to tell him. Commander Troi had made it clear about Rutherford’s working relationship with the captain. She didn’t need to mess that up by dumping personal information that wasn’t hers to share. He already knew how much the captain thought of him. He wore the evidence every single day.
This mission wasn’t about that.
“Just worried about my mom,” she deflected.
“Wait… what?” Rutherford rasped. “The next shift change is called the big sync. What does that mean?”
“We’ll find out, one way or another. How close are we?”
“Two more levels up.”
“Think we can make it that far before the next change?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
The shuffling began to slow and become dispersed. Her eyes were still closed when Rutherford placed his hand on her shoulder and it startled her.
“Come on,” he said. “We gotta go fast if we hope to make it. Stick close.”
She slipped out of the pod and followed Rutherford down the corridor. She tried her best not to run, but Rutherford could walk faster than she could. She almost wished she had learned Boimler’s speed-walking technique. At least Rutherford managed to do it without that silly hip swing.
Down the corridor, they found the next junction with the tubular rails in the wall. They climbed to the next level and when they ascertained it was clear, they continued up to the next.
“We go this way, and then there’s a roundabout.” Rutherford gestured the path. “It’s next to a main structural trunk. We go around and then to the right. The room where Tendi is located is there.”
They continued on. The corridor seemed to end, but it was just the section Rutherford had mentioned curving out of view. There was any number of valves, wheels, steam whistles, and the occasional archaically curved screen scrolling green nonsense.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Rutherford spat. “The shift change is starting now!”
“What do we do?”
There were no pods around them in this section, no alcoves, nowhere to hide. The shuffle began as the Shempo left their current stations for whatever the big sync was. Out of the mist and vapor, their red lasers pierced the darkness. There was a murmur and susurration. The Shempo were mumbling to themselves as they lumbered forward. One at a time, they paired off and did something that made little sense. Each found a partner and plugged a finger into the other’s ear. They began to hum.
“Quick,” said Rutherford. “That must be it. We have to do what they’re doing.”
“You’re kidding,” she replied.
How long could she keep from laughing at something so ridiculous?
It’s not about how hard the test is. It's about my priorities, she realized.
“Let’s do this, man. We’re gonna have to stay right where we are and try to blend in.”
“Okie dokie,” he replied.
She cleared her throat and put her finger to Rutherford’s artificial ear. She took a quick glance around and realized it was the wrong ear. The Shempo were all using the ear to the opposite of their head-pieces.
She and Rutherford both quickly changed hands and began to hum.
The urge to giggle was intense.
The barely restrained snort from Rutherford didn’t help one tiny bit.
She hummed louder to distract herself.
So did Rutherford.
From her right came a voice.
“We are Shempo, Follower of Rules. We do not recognize your units.”
Her eyes popped open. Rutherford was staring at her in panic. She had no idea what to do or say. Kicking their Shempo asses right now would break with the instructions Commander Troi had given.
Rutherford took the lead.
“We are Shempo from delta shift. We have recently been transferred to bravo shift. Verification is in our logs,” he said in a less than spectacular rendition of the Shempo voice.
The Shempo talking to them put a finger in Rutherford’s artificial ear.
“Verified,” said the Shempo. “We do not get a signal from the other unit.”
“That unit was damaged when the Klingon cruiser attacked. It was near the edge. We are currently repairing its transponder,” Rutherford improvised.
She was impressed with his quick thinking.
The Shempo beamed its laser at each of them in turn and moved on.
She wanted to let out a huge sigh of relief, but that would not help right now.
They watched as the Shempo continued their silly routine and then began to unplug from one another, wandering off in random directions.
She did her best to imitate how they pulled their fingers away and began to walk stiff-legged toward where Rutherford had said the room would be. He was right behind her.
The door had a panel next to it. She tried putting her hand to it, but nothing happened.
Rutherford nodded his head to the side, silently asking her to step out of the way. He lowered his eyepiece to the panel and emitted a series of blinking lights, almost like morse code.
The door slid open, revealing a dark room inside.
“I can’t see anything,” Beckett said.
“At your two o’clock,” Rutherford whispered.
“Vindicta, Agent of Chaos, and the infamous Bionic 5. We have been waiting for you. Please, come in. You were invited. Too bad you didn’t take the offer of a ride. We would have beamed you right here.”
“Give me Tendi and we all walk away alive,” she said, her voice finding steel.
Shempo’s red laser piped into being, disconnected from a body because it was still too dark to see anything and the laser did little to illuminate the area.
“Captain!” Tendi yelled. “You should have stayed on the ship. Shempo’s gonna kill you!”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she replied.
She squared her shoulders and entered the room. Rutherford was at her side, a look of aggressive determination painting his face into a scowl.
“You did a fine job of infiltrating our ship,” Boimler continued. “But we had you on sensors from the beginning.”
“Then why didn’t you try to take us out?” she demanded.
“It was too much fun watching the two of you try to blend in and follow the rules of Shempo. It was deeply satisfying as you betrayed every instinct to start handing people their asses.”
“It’s not too late,” she said, hearing her opening. “I can still hand you yours!”
The lights came up, green radiance permeating every corner. Boimler/Shempo was near the table, rubbing his hands together like a villain from a black and white movie. Tendi was trying to crane her neck to one side so she could see. The table was facing away from them.
“That would be against the rules,” he replied.
“I followed all the stupid Shempo rules to get here,” she said. “The only rule that matters now is that everyone gets home in one piece.”
“I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible. Also, boo, the rules are not stupid. We are Shempo. We are very efficient.”
She turned to Rutherford. “Shempo’s mine. You get Tendi.”
Rutherford growled and ran toward the table.
Beckett ran directly for Shempo, her hands made into claws, and tackled him.
Boimler screamed as only Boimler could.
“What… what are you doing? Stop that!” cried Boimler.
She was plucking at his costume pieces removing them one by one.
“I’m de-Shemponating you. I told Troi I would bring everyone home, and that includes you. If Janeway could save Seven, I can save Shempo. No one gets left behind.”
Boimler lay there where Beckett straddled his chest, all his Shempo gear gone, his shirt gone, and perhaps a little of his pride. She leaned close to his face, made a fearsome grimace, and gave him a peck on the forehead.
“What’s that about?” Tendi asked, now free and rubbing her wrists where they’d been bound.
“Listen, guys,” Beckett said with a heavy sigh. “I think fifty percent of this was just Commander Troi making sure I was occupied and didn’t get into any trouble considering what’s going on with the captain, but the other fifty percent was something I missed the last time we did Vindicta. It’s not enough that I love the Cerritos and my place on it. One day we’re gonna be upper decks, with the senior crew, and no matter which one of us is the captain, a captain is only as good as her team. This wasn’t about following the rules or even saving you, Tendi. It was about appreciating you guys.”
“Well, I would appreciate it if you got off me,” Brad complained.
Beckett grinned, got up off him, and offered a hand to help him up. He smacked non-existent dust off his costume pants, the only thing left to him.
The simulation dematerialized, leaving them standing within the empty grid of the holodeck. The doors swished open and Commander Troi entered the space.
“Well done,” she said. “You have the rest of the day off to reflect. I would like a word with Ensign Mariner, please.”
They knew when they were being dismissed and each gave a respectful nod as they exited the holodeck.
“Was I right?” Beckett asked.
“About?”
“Half of this was for the reasons you said, and the other half was just to keep me out of trouble?”
“Close enough, Ensign,” she replied. “Now, how would you summarize the lesson?”
She took in a deep breath and held it before answering.
“Can I ask you a question first?”
“Of course.”
“Were you watching?”
“Absolutely. You had to know I would.”
“Did you see how they threw themselves into it? Even Boimler did the Shempo voice and everything. And Rutherford? Dude was in character. So was Tendi.”
“Yes. There were moments that were quite entertaining.”
“That’s how I would summarize it. My friends pulled out the stops, and you know what? They always do. Just like mom did for Rutherford. Accountability is just another way to say being there for your friends, showing up. Accountability is pulling out the stops. It’s about answering for your actions and all that too, but, like, it’s made out of the other stuff I said. Does that make sense?”
“I think that makes perfect sense, Ensign Mariner,” she said, tipping her head minutely in acknowledgment. “I have a confession to make. I never broke protocol. Captain Freeman gave me permission to tell you the things I did.”
“You lied?” Beckett was flabbergasted.
“I exaggerated,” Commander Troi replied, gesturing to the holodeck exit. “Not something I’m proud of, but a skill I’ve acquired engaging Captain Riker. He’s quite the handful…”
The End