The Vulcan - Episode 8: The Job

The Vulcan

Table of Content:
Ep. 1: The Needs of the Many
Ep. 2: The Needs of the Few
Ep. 3: 'T' Minus Negative
Ep. 4: A Pon Too Farr
Ep. 5: Seeing is Believing, Part 1
Ep. 6: Seeing is Believing, Part 2
Ep. 7: Mind in a Vat
Ep. 8: The Job
The Vulcan Character Highlights

Episode 8 - The Job

Vulcan flying in the Epsilon-Hydra system

S'Talla is updating her log. "Captain's Log, stardate: three eight one three point one.

"We have entered the Epsilon-Hydra system and are on our way to the seventh planet where the Intra-Galactic Royal Museum of Cosmic Antiquities and Curiosities is located.

"We need to confirm the location of the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki at the museum or find the ship we have been chasing. Then, we will have to, as Mr. Santayana says, 'case the joint,' to determine our next course of action.

"Sam, Art Santayana, and Mr. Naxx will be approaching the curator of the museum, to establish themselves as commercial transporters and traders of art and antiques. I will accompany a group of our crew down to the surface by shuttle craft, for shore leave, where I can ask around the spaceport about the mystery ship. Vulcan and the watch crew will remain in orbit and concentrate on tracking traffic coming and going, looking for our mystery ship.

"According to our records, Epsilon-Hydra VII is controlled by the Mok-Doc A`Koppa Tarri-Tjupunti-Waal Mejuatalanni Royal family from their capital city of Tju.

"T'Perl has traced the mystery ship through Klingon space. On the other side, past Klingon space, the trail has grown too faint even for Vulcan's sensors. However, Tju is still the most probable destination. Our estimates have our target nine days twelve point three hours ahead of us. We do not expect to find the ship, but estimates give a fifty two point five percent chance the stone will be here. Much higher than other destinations, including the possibility of an undocumented outpost."

Corridor outside S'Talla's quarters

S'Talla is stepping out of her quarters when Vulcan informs her, "Captain, we have just entered Epsilon-Hydra seven space. We have reached Ken'tsen and Ya is maneuvering me into orbit over Tju."

The comm signals for S'Talla's attention. "Bridge to Captain S'Talla, this is Sadek."

S'Talla answers with a tap of her comm badge, "S'Talla here. I am on my way to the bridge now."

Sadek finishes, "I just wanted to inform you that we have entered Epsilon-Hydra seven space. We are coming into orbit now."

S'Talla keeps walking to the turbo lift. "Thank you Mr. Sadek. Ask Ms. T'Pree to raise the port authorities."

S'Talla steps aboard a turbo lift as the doors swish open. The lift closes and travels to the bridge without the need for any commands from S'Talla.

Vulcan's bridge

S'Talla steps out of the port side lift and onto the bridge. She walks over to T'Pree instead of heading to the captain's chair.

T'Pree hands S'Talla her ear piece and says, "Royal immigration and customs agent Chek-Devona Ant-A'Goré Basstan-Corraan."

"Thank you." S'Talla fits the earpiece to her ear. "Agent…" S'Talla crooks an eyebrow at T'Pree to silently ask if it was necessary to use the agent's entire name. T'Pree shrugs with a palm turned upward. S'Talla returns her attention to the communication.

"This is Captain S'Talla of the freighter Vulcan, hull number 'V' five dash 'B' three seven three. We are requesting permission to planet."

The agent responds over the comm link, "Captain …S'Talla, Welcome to Ken'tsen. Please state the purpose of your visit to the Epsilon-Hydra system; business or pleasure?"

"Business," answers S'Talla. "...as well as shore leave for my crew."

Agent Chek-Devona Ant-A'Goré Basstan-Corraan states, "Please fill out the Off-World Visitation and Immigration Information Form, including all items to be declared before beaming to the planet surface. We are sending you an orbit solution. You will proceed to latitude zero one zero point six and join the Capitol satellite cluster. A customs agent will beam aboard to check you and your crew through. Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you Agent Chek-Devona Ant-A'Goré Basstan-Corraan," responds S'Talla. "Vulcan out."

S'Talla hands the earpiece back to T'Pree and turns to Ya at the helm. "Ya?"

Ya works the helm console. "We have received the orbit instructions."

Ne finishes the response while Ya completes the maneuver. "We are dropping into position now."

Sam enters the bridge. "Vulcan passed the link for our entry application to me in my quarters. We are all set, as soon as the crew going planet-side fills out their declaration of regulated goods. Do we all beam down to their facilities?"

S'Talla, still standing, says, "We are expecting an agent to beam aboard once we settle into our assigned orbit."

Sam swings her arms out casually and palm slaps the front of her thighs lightly, "Well, I guess we better get to the transporter cabin. I have never been out this far. This may be fun."

S'Talla makes no comment. The two of them move to the starboard turbo-lift. S'Talla turns back. "Ya," she instructs. "You and Ne are in charge on the bridge. As soon as you have set our orbit, set the ship on auto-pilot and fill out the visitor's form, if you wish to visit planet-side."

S'Talla sweeps her gaze around the bridge and settles on T'Pree. "I would like two people to remain on the bridge and two in engineering to keep watch, but they are welcome to rotate down to the surface on a two hour watch schedule. That should give everyone at least six hours to enjoy their shore leave. You are welcome to work that out among yourselves. I plan on being back to take my watch in four hours."

On the streets of Tju, in front of the museum

Sam, Art, and Naxx beam to the square in front of the entrance to the Royal Museum. The three are dressed in formal business wear. Art has reluctantly agreed to leave his cap off and acts uncomfortable in a suit, constantly adjusting the fit around his neck and waist. Art complains, "I am so glad fashion has moved past neckties. This monkey suit is bad enough."

Naxx looks like he was born to orchestrate high finance transactions. Sam's red hair is cut and styled in a simple, but sophisticated sweep over her left ear and held with a stylish pin. Her dress is well tailored and pleated on the same line as her hairpin. The group makes a statement of wealth and importance. Art carries a slim briefcase.

"Naxx, just to remind everyone, you are the company lawyer, and Art?" Sam scans his well dressed figure, "You are too good looking to be anything but my personal assistant, so please keep your eyes from wandering and do whatever I say. Don't talk and don't lose our scanner. Professor Kazzak will be very upset with you, if you do."

Art smiles, "You flatter me, and my eyes don't wander."

Naxx laughs. "Art, if anyone's eyes could jump out of their head to wander after a beautiful woman, you would have two prosthetic eyeballs by now."

Art defends himself, "I appreciate beauty, so phase me."

Sam looks about to say something, then presses her lips sealed and breathes out through her nose as she walks purposefully away from her two companions, towards the museum.

Art follows Sam's backside with his eyes for a second, then leaps forward, racing after his boss. He tries to appeal to Sam, "Okay okay, I'll control myself. You and… well you don't make it easy."

Naxx smiles and follows, shaking his head.

At the door, Art tries again, "I know my job, Sam. I can control myself."

Sam simply says, "I know you will." and she enters the museum. The threat in the stress she put on the word 'will' is not lost on Art.

Naxx walks in behind Sam, pointing at her back as he looks towards Art still standing beside the door: "I really like her."

Number one shuttle from Vulcan

Skyvik is piloting, Randool has the co-seat. Aboard are S'Talla, T'Pia, Charlie, T'Perl, Damian, Spalloz, Sadek, and Prof. Kazzak.

Charlie says to Kazak, who is sitting next to him, "I tried reading your paper on gravitational wave energy in the matter/ space/time medium. I got lost just in the abstract."

Kazzak looks at him for a moment, before responding, "You must be an exceptional Earthling."

Professor Kazzak let the silence go on.

Charlie persists, "I was actually surprised anyone could understand it."

T'Pia taps Charlie significantly on the knee. "The Professor is the leading scientific theorist in the field of Gravitics. I don't think you are up for a debate on the science, against the professor."

"Actually," states Kazzak, "Only one other person I have met admitted to not understanding my paper and accused me of being illogical. She actually accused me of not being Vulcan. I am certain that she is now the only other person in the Quadrant that understands the science."

Charlie turns more fully towards the scientist. "You really think matter, energy, space, and time are all one medium?"

Kazzak pulls his goggles down over his eyes and settles back against his seat. He ignores Charlie after that.

T'Pia leans over and whispers in Charlie's ear, "I am impressed you could get through the abstract. But no one is going to accuse Professor Kazzak of being illogical."

Skyvik calls back, "Harnesses. Atmosphere in sixty seconds."

The crew aboard strap in. Restraints are checked and cinched.

"Entering the atmosphere now," states Randool.

A rough quaking begins with a firm initial shake against the atmosphere. It remains turbulent for a few more moments until they have fully passed the Exosphere, and traversed the Thermosphere to enter the Mesosphere.

Randool announces, "Eight minutes to the ground."

Damian turns to Spadek and says, "You know, my great grandpa told me he got to ride in an old jet airplane once, when he was little, and he thought he was going to lose his hearing when his ears popped."

Spadek asks, "Did they not pressurize the cabins?"

Damian replies, "Yes, but the whole plane would flex and the skin would crack if they didn't allow some venting. And, of course, take off and landing wasn't always at the same altitude. They hadn't invented Altoids to absorb air in the inner ear. My great grandpa used to laugh over that name. Seems like an appropriate name to me." Damian shrugs.

Randool announces, "We're about to land. Everyone, I will be piloting the shuttle back in six hours, if anyone wants to return at that time. If your shift changes before then, call for a transporter."

The ship quivers for a moment and Skyvik unfastens his restraints. "We have landed." He stands.

T'Pia unsnaps and calls, "No one on board has been to Epsilon-Hydra before, I suggest you pair up and stay together until you have a better understanding of Tju. Keep your comm badges on and communicators with you. Watch out for pickpockets."

They exit the shuttle onto the transient landing dock and see a wide set of glass doors over which reads, 'Welcome to the Royal Tju Regional Spaceport,' written in Ken'tsen, Imperial Klingon, and Federation Common.

The exit sign leads the crew through the spaceport building to a public hover-rail train platform on the right, and out to the commercial docks district on the left.

Outside the Tju spaceport

T'Pia, Charlie, and T'Perl get on the train to downtown Tju.

Randool consults his personal access display device and points in a direction for Spalloz and he to take. The two are soon heading for a diner. On the roof is a large lighted sign showing a drink with a straw sticking out of it, and a dish that looks somewhat like a hamburger from Earth. They are featured inside a gear sprocket inside a circle. Randool's translator allows him to read the name, "The Road Diner and Racing Club."

S'Talla, Skyvik, and the Professor walk, with Spadek, toward a bar where some of the port workers seem to be heading. The closer they get to the bar, the rougher it looks.

The professor stops before the black front doors, their two circular windows opaque with grime. He lowers his goggles and scans the building and doors through them.

"Wait," orders Kazzak.

The other three Vulcans turn to look at him. A pair of Klingon dock workers open the doors to enter ahead of the Vulcan crew. It is dark inside, except for the lights behind the bar where a black and gray splotched purple skinned creature with multiple tentacles is serving drinks. The noise from some throbbing alien beat wrestles with the clatter and chatter of every bar community across two quadrants.

Kazzak peers inside through his goggles and explains, "I have no interest in entering a bar. I can see that my help in locating our quarry will be better applied elsewhere. I will not be following you into there." Kazzak indicates the bar with his finger.

S'Talla and Skyvik look at the professor without comment. Spadek says, "Logical." All three turn back to enter the bar, leaving the professor to his own resources.

In the lobby of the museum

An expensively dressed native Ken'tsen walks up to shake Sam's hand. The wide sensory flap, that drapes down across the back of the roughly humanoid species' head, looks almost like a purple/brown wig of plastic hair falling to the shoulders. It is a distinguishing feature of H'Popattapi physiology. H'Popattapi is the name of the dominant species of Ken'tsen. They do not have ears or a nose, since their aural crest, as it is called, performs those functions.

"My name is Mortju-Bacc Eel'Atuan Pac-Dauhah Rjatonn-Caugnt. I am the museum curator. How may I be of service to you?"

Sam responds in kind, "I am Samantha Colleen Kelly, but you can just call me Sam." She pauses slightly to give the curator a chance to offer a similarly shortened name by which to call him. He makes no such offer. "Ahem, I am here as the owner of Vulcan Shipping and Transportation Enterprises. We provide custom shipping and other specialty transportation services that are both fast and discreet. There's no place that we won't go."

The curator is beginning to lose a little interest in the unsolicited promotion Sam is describing.

"However," Sam goes on, finally letting the yellow hand she had been shaking go. "I also procure rare art and artifacts for certain exclusive clientele across the quadrant. I am a collector, as well. So, I wanted to introduce myself, since your museum is legendary back home. This is the first time I've had a chance to get out this way."

The curator smiles indulgently. "What is it that brings you out…" The curator looks Art and Naxx over. "This far? You are from Earth? The United Federation of Planets?"

Naxx says, "Vulcan. But we are a private business."

The curator sweeps the group again. His aural crest ripples and spreads wide. "Well, I do smell Vulcan on you, but you are not Vulcan."

Sam adds, "I am sorry. This is Mr. Naxx or Naxx for short. He's our company lawyer, and Arthur Santayana, my personal assistant. Just call him Art. It is easier. I am Human, but I grew up on Vulcan. "

The curator nods and shakes that aural crest almost like tipping a hat. "Sam, Naxx, Art." You are… basic with your syllables."

Again the curator does not take the hint to offer a shorter name for himself.

"Please," the curator invites the trio. "Follow me to my office."

They turn to follow when the main door behind them sweeps open. A familiar voice calls across the marbled space: "Ms. Kelly, sorry I am late, I had a little trouble figuring out the train system. There is no logic behind it at all."

Professor Kazzak walks over to the group. The curator glances up at the goggles still strapped across the old Vulcan's forehead. Sam glances back at Kazzak and turns back to Mortju-Bacc Eel'Atuan Pac-Dauhah Rjatonn-Caugnt. Sam has to think quickly at the unexpected change to their script. "Ah… excellent. My appraiser is here."

Sam introduces Kazzak when he reaches the group. "This is Mister Kazzak. He is my appraiser. You see, I had hoped to have the chance to find some rare art to purchase. Maybe even get lucky and discover an auction I could get an invitation for?" Sam turns to the professor, "Mister Kazzak, this is…" She turns back to the curator. "I am so sorry, but I am not used to H'Popattapi names. Would you mind repeating it for me?"

The Ken'tsen answers with only a small amount of annoyance, "Of course." He turns to the Vulcan and taps his chest with his three-fingered hand and straightens up to full height, even tilting backwards slightly, in what seems like inflated pride, "My name is Mortju-Bacc Eel'Atuan Pac-Dauhah Rjatonn-Caugnt. I am the museum curator."

The Professor does not bother to lift his hand in a Vulcan greeting. He gives the slightest of bows of his head and says, "The rail system is starting to make more sense, now."

The Ken'tsen turns back to Sam with a curious look and suggests, "Why don't we take this conversation to my office conference room. I can offer you a drink and a comfortable seat and we can discuss how we might be able to help each other further."

Sam nods and follows the curator towards a door behind a security desk. He says, as he's waving the group past the two H'Popattapi security guards, "There is an auction scheduled for the end of next week. If you can remain on Ken'tsen for that long, I think I might be able to offer you an invitation."

Kazzak drops his goggles over his eyes and looks around the lobby and the security area when he moves to follow. One of the guards puts a hand on the old Vulcan's chest to stop him.

"No scanning or imaging equipment allowed. You must check your goggles here."

"Oh?" says the professor. "These are more like reading glasses. They provide a small amount of augmentation to my sight. I am," Kazzak looks at Sam. "The appraiser. I need my tools."

Sam turns back from the other side of the doorway to see what is wrong. She meets Kazzak's gaze. The curator studies the situation and offers an explanation, "We have to be very cautious. There are some of the most precious artifacts in the galaxy inside this building. We have to keep them safe."

Kazzak, still in conversation with the guard, explains, "I am over one-hundred-eighty years old. My eyesight needs augmentation."

The curator nods at the guards, "Trann Touh-Itanna Bienjah-Tuihii Ich'nah, I am only taking them to the conference room. Even if his vision correctors are recorders, there will be no danger there. The curator pauses to think. "Actually, why don't you call security and attach one guard to us. I think that would be a good compromise."

The guard steps back from the Professor and agrees, "I will call for relief and join you myself."

Kazzak is allowed to join the group again, this time he leaves the goggles raised on his forehead. Kazzak reaches for the briefcase Art is carrying. "Thank you for bringing my tools, Mr. Santayana. I almost forgot."

Art reluctantly let the case go, surprised by the action of their unexpected addition. He recovers quickly, "Of course, I'm glad I could help. I was afraid you weren't going to make it."

The conference room in the curator's office

A younger male H'Popattapi meets the five as they enter the room.

The curator introduces him, "This is my assistant Anjii'Miegh Kettu-Baratza Mogah-Tretch'Macc Kallatih. This is Ms. Samantha Colleen Kelly of the starship Vulcan, from the United Federation of Planets."

Behind the three, Kazzak lowers his goggles and looks around the room. The professor scans the ceiling, walls, and floor.

The assistant lifts his crest and raises his chest, leaning backwards slightly at the waist. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Are you here to see the Byacol-carak-uvakow-varrakai…?"

"Ahem, No!" the curator breaks in, interrupting his assistant. "Ms. Samantha Colleen Kelly of the starship Vulcan is interested in rare antiques and art. If you could bring up the catalog and be prepared to enter her name as a guest to the next auction, I am hoping we can welcome our guest as a new member." The curator gives Sam an apologetic smile, "If our background check qualifies her, of course."

Sam nods her willing capitulation as she releases the assistance's handshake.

The curator turns back to his assistant, "Please, Anjii'Miegh Kettu-Baratza Mogah-Tretch'Macc Kallatih, have that report forwarded to my terminal immediately. Thank you." With that, the assistant is dismissed to discharge his duties.

Kazzak quickly raises his goggles back upon his forehead and smiles thinly at the curator just as the curator turns to take in the rest of his guests. He just misses seeing Kazzak inspecting the room through his goggles. The security guard, Trann Touh-Itanna Bienjah-Tuihii Ich'nah, enters the room and takes a silent position to the right of the door.

Naxx asks Kazzak quietly, "What are the captain and Mr. Skyvik doing?"

Kazzak answers tonelessly, "The most probable answer is, they are embroiled in a bar fight by now. I think they are likely to win, so I excused myself to come here."

 

A rough Ken'tsen bar.

Two H'Popattapi fly across a table and slam into the wall behind it. One hits the wall upside-down while the other looks as if he simply ran up, onto, and across the table before being stopped dead by the wall. Both slide unconscious to the floor.

S'Talla has a large rough looking Klingon dock worker in a wrist lock. His Klingon companion is held, chest-to-chest against his friend, in a mirrored hold. Both of their arms are twisted long, wound one against the other, preventing them from straightening or turning out of the hold. S'Talla is relaxed and unaffected by the strain.

Skyvik, who has just thrown the two Ken'tsens over the table, turns to her, to double check, then moves on to see how Spadek is doing. Spadek is facing off against the biggest Ken'tsen in the room.

The H'Popattapi is muscular and tall. His eyes are intense and his aural crest is raised behind the determined tilt of his head. He grins a row of rounded teeth at Spadek and says, "I don't think you'll have it as easy as your friends, Pokkak!"

Spadek lifts his arms and replies, "Of course, I'm not the fighter my crew mates are." Spadek steps closer in surrender. "We were only asking about a ship, hoping to make friends, not cause… Here let me get that for you." Spadek carefully gestures to the huge H'Popattapi's left shoulder and slowly, carefully reaches out to brush something off the giant's collar.

The big male glares a warning, but follows the slim Vulcan's hand only with his eyes. Spadek's helpful gesture turns easily into a nerve pinch and the huge being collapses to the floor.

Spadek looks at Skyvik and comments, "You work too hard, my friend."

Skyvik turns to the bartender. "The ship the captain was just asking about!" He sees the weapon wrapped in one of the bartender's eight snaking secondary tentacles. The weapon levels at him. Skyvik shakes his head as a warning to the Octilian.

The bartender is technically a quadrupedal reptile, but it resembles a large land dwelling octopus because its four primary limbs are bifurcated into eight much longer arms.

Behind the bar, It is holding itself up on three of its prehensile tentacles; the blunt pad at the tip of a fourth tentacle holding the weapon, presses lightly against the triggering button. The sentient reptile slithers out from behind the bar's draft-pulls on the ambulate bands that line the underside of its unusual limbs. He is bracing himself on the bartop with his other four arms, a cleaning towel still clutched in one. It glides smoothly along the ring stained and wet surface without any change to its posture, holding the weapon steadily upon Skyvik.

"Captain," Skyvik calls.

S'Talla twists the two Klingon arms in her grip, and the Klingons convulse in slightly more pain, raising to their toes. They stoically bear the pain while S'Talla focuses her attention on the Octilian bartender. She barely moves her lips and whispers, "drop it."

The Octilian's weapon arm goes loose and the weapon clatters to the floor.

Skyvik says to the Octilian again, "The ship!"

The bartender answers, "The NaGoya Talt. It dropped off something, something important, and left six days ago. You should forget whatever you are after. You don't want to be involved with these people. They control everything."

S'Talla answers Skyvik's questioning look: "The Mok-Doc A`Koppa Tarri-Tjupunti-Waal Mejuatalanni Nok Royal family."

"I did not say that." The Octilian acts panicked. "I did not tell you that."

S'Talla lets go of her two Klingon captives, casually blocks a punch from one, and sits him down in a chair turned out from its table behind him. She does not need to tell the other Klingon to take a seat too. The three Vulcans walk out. There are four other patrons of the bar laying under tables or just sitting up shaking their heads.

The Octilian retrieves his weapon and says to the two Klingons standing from their seats, "You are Klingon and you just give up because one Vulcan woman got the better of you? Where is that famous Klingon honor?"

One of the Klingons answers, "You don't see us challenging an active volcano to single combat. There is no dishonor to losing to a force of nature."

The other Klingon adds, "There is no honor in the futility of defying such a force."

Downtown Tju

T'Pia, Charlie, and T'Perl are on a footbridge admiring the view of the canal it crosses. They each have a slim twisting pastry on a stick that they bought from a street vender. A long flat skiff glides quietly by, under their bridge. A Ken'tsen gondolier is standing in the stern. A long control arm angles up from forward of his feet to be gripped lightly in one three fingered hand. A couple of Ken'tsen tourists huddle comfortably near the bow, giggling in delight in each other's company.

Charlie comments, "This reminds me of Suzhou, back on Earth. I've seen a few cities with canals running through them. A water taxi would be fun."

T'Pia states, "There are more streets and walking paths. It will take much less time to see the sights on foot."

T'Perl nods in agreement. Her eyes follow the gondola, then she notices a ripple disturbing the surface when the boat rolls gently in a small wake. She traces the water's disturbance back under the bridge. Leaning over, she can not see below the surface to tell what may have just swum by. "What sort of aquatic life do you suppose is in these canals?"

T'Pia answers, "It is unlikely there is any life. According to my research for this trip, the water running through the city of Tju is heavy with barium and iodine. However, life has been known to develop in environments much more inhospitable than that."

T'Perl's eyes, having followed the mysterious wake, rise to the bank towards which the three are walking. She looks to the end of the bridge and points. "We can not window shop from the water. That shop looks interesting. We should see what is there."

Charlie follows her gaze and holds a personal assistance travel device up. The projection above the data device overlays the signs down the street with a translated reproduction of all the text in Ken'tsen. He reads the sign in front of the store T'Perl is pointing to. It says, "Rare Antiques, Art, and Collectibles".

A Ken'tsen antiques, art, and curios shop

A whistle slides up then down a full octave when T'Pia, T'Perl, and Charlie pass through the automatic doors into the art shop. To the left is a sales desk, glass to show the collection of jewelry and small valuable objects d'art. The main floor boasts several pedestals displaying 3D art objects and the walls are lined with framed art, masks, relief sculptures, and decorations from all across quadrants Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. The gallery is pristine and projects prestige and wealth. The clerk is dressed well, and welcomes the three with a reserve that suggests judgment will be held until serious business is conducted.

"Welcome to Bahmalla Antooh-Jentnak Vehgamak-Tohotie Anchoroe-Bimahear's Gallery of Art, Ancient and New. I am the owner, Bahmalla Antooh-Jentnak Vehgamak-Tohotie Anchoroe-Bimahear. Are you just touring the city or may I be of service to you?"

Charlie picks up a distinct tone of antipathy, while T'Pia and T'Perl only hear the words.

Charlie rushes to reassure the shop attendant that they are serious art patrons. "We have traveled all the way from Vulcan because we heard a rumor of a fabled artifact that could be found here. Perhaps you've heard of it? The… Philosopher's Stone?"

Charlie and T'Perl look too young to be taken seriously, but T'Pia steps in to fill the role of independent collector, when the man smiles indulgently at the two younger people, then directs a more serious questioning stare at T'Pia.

"What Charlie is trying to say is, I have come looking for something truly rare and valuable to complete our collection. Charlie is young, and so tends to be more forthright than discrete, but he is extraordinarily intelligent, and capable. As all of my children have been."

The Ken'tsen shop owner flutters his aural crest. "Your children? What happened to his ears?"

T'Pia didn't miss a beat and explains, "Both Charlie and T'Perl were orphaned at a young age. I am the closest thing they have to a mother now. But please, we are interested in your antiques." T'Pia, along with both T'Perl and Charlie, gaze around appreciatively. "Since Charlie has already broached the subject, we are following a rumor, and I am prepared to spend what it takes to find this legendary artifact. T'Perl does not believe it even exists, but Charlie has recently heard that it is on Ken'tsen. What can you tell us about the Philosopher's Stone? On Vulcan, it is also known as the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki."

The man does not seem to understand. He answers, "I have never heard of a Philosopher's Stone nor the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki. Ken'tsen seems like a long way to travel for the rumor of an item that most certainly would be of Earth or Vulcan."

Charlie answers, "We have been unable to find more than stories in our search among the Federation Planets. Each seems to have its own name for the Stone. Perhaps Ken'tsen does, as well?"

T'Perl turns slowly around to scan the showroom. She begins browsing the displays while T'Pia and Charlie talk to the clerk. One tall case attracts her interest, in particular. It is glass with a set of gemstones and jewelry. A large stone necklace featured on the center shelf. It sparkles in blues and gold around the neck of a headless black bust. What T'Perl notices about the two meter tall case is that it is set against the wall, firmly fastened, yet there is a thin seam all the way around the edge of the case, into the wall itself. The case seems to be attached to a door instead of just a section of the wall, hiding the possible opening. She looks particularly around the baseboard to note a scuff streaked along it as though years of something heavy sliding back and forth, something very much like a door made heavy by an attached cabinet. T'Perl scans the other walls. There is a door, discreetly located in the back. T'Perl interrupts, pointing at the back door, "Are your public facilities located back there?"

The man pulls his attention away from T'Pia, and replies, "I'm afraid we do not provide public facilities. That is our stock room and business office. My apologies for the inconvenience."

He turns back to T'Pia. "We do have several good sources that may help." The Ken'tsen walks back to his sales counter and opens a computer screen.

After the clerk asks the computer to pull up information on the Philosopher's Stone of Earth and Vulcan's Vaikar-Kau-Bureki, the computer announces, "The Philosopher's Stone of Earth is reported to be a magical stone, sought out by ancient alchemists. The Philosopher's Stone could turn lead into gold, cure the sick and bring life to the dead. There is an ancient book called the Mutus Liber, from Earth's Late Medieval period, that describes how to create the Philosopher's Stone. The Philosopher's Stone has been referenced in innumerable works of fiction about magic and alchemy."

The clerk asks, "Computer, what information do you have on the Vulcan Vaikar-Kau-Bureki?"

The computer goes on to repeat, "The Vaikar-Kau-Bureki is a legendary stone of magical properties that had the ability to create, destroy, and transmute matter. It reportedly provided unlimited energy and could bring forth life, as well as restore the dead. It is analogous to Earth's Philosopher's Stone, the Klingon Hero Stone, Andorian's Legend Stone, and Ken'tsen's Magical Stone of Wisdom, the Byacol-carak-uvakow-varrakai-yanah-kanna-poouak.

"There are theories that suggest all of these legends come down from a single common source."

"That's enough, computer," calls the shop owner. He contemplates his three customers, watching for their reaction to the computer's information for a minute.

T'Perl rejoins her group and asks, "Would the museum have more information about the… Magical Stone of Wisdom?"

Bahmalla Antooh-Jentnak Vehgamak-Tohotie Anchoroe-Bimahear answers cautiously, "I am certain it would, but I sincerely doubt you will find any more pertinent information as to its location, merely a few more details to its legend. If you would like, I can call ahead for you."

T'Pia says, "That will not be necessary, but thank you. You have been helpful, if not productive. We will be on our way." T'Pia starts leading Charlie and T'Perl to the door.

T'Perl stops and turns to ask the shop owner, as she stands in the open front portal, "Does the canal system run all the way to the Museum and the spaceport?"

The shop owner cuts his eyes towards the cabinet T'Perl had inspected earlier, then shifts back as if in contemplation of her question.

T'Perl clarifies her question to relieve him of his obvious confusion, "My brother and I were interested in catching a water taxi ride. I just thought it would be convenient if it went to the Museum right from here, then back to the spaceport."

Bahmalla Antooh-Jentnak Vehgamak-Tohotie Anchoroe-Bimahear let out a breath with his renewed understanding. "Yes, you should be able to catch a water taxi at any pier along the canals and ask for the museum landing."

T'Perl thanks the man: "Thank you very much. Oh, one more question. I understand you are busy, but if you know, are there any kinds of fish or aquatic life in the canal waters? I have a fascination with marine life."

The Ken'tsen replies with a shallow smile, "Only a little bottom algae and the Krephnie, a type of small guppy that feeds on the algae. But they are never seen through the milky barium laced waters. They are blind because light doesn't pass through."

"Oh, well thank you. Have a good day." T'Perl leaves, letting the doors slide shut in her wake.

Out on the street

T'Perl catches up to T'Pia and Charlie. "They are smuggling stolen goods in that shop," she announces.

Charlie laughs, "How would you know that?"

T'Pia stops near a set of escalators descending down to the quay below. A collection of gondolas rest along the seawall, their owners visiting along the wall ashore. T'Pia raises an eyebrow to wait for T'Perl's explanation.

"While we were crossing the bridge, I watched a gondola glide by. It rocked slightly from the wake of a passing underwater body. I followed the wake's path to the bridge we were crossing where it appeared to veer towards this side of the canal, right below the gallery we were just in. Inside, there was a hidden door in a wall and it did not lead to the stock room or the back office. Its position would be consistent with access to a room at level with the water on the canal side. I thought, as I was inspecting the cabinet that hid the door, that I could hear voices echo as if in a tunnel of some sort, just below. The owner, Mister Long Name, said there are no life forms in the water big enough to disturb a gondola and that the canals run at least as far as the museum and the port district.

"Everything logically adds up to some sort of illegal smuggling operation. I would not be surprised to discover an underwater passage directly beneath the building, and a submersible unloading something where the authorities could not track them."

T'Pia responds, "The barium and iodine are radio opaque so a submersible would be well hidden from satellite surveillance. Fascinating."

The Roadway Diner and Racing Club

Spalloz and Randool are enjoying a burger-like fried cadswin sandwich and toreenoe flakes, made with Ken'tsen ingredients. Randool is swiveling his head around, taking in the decor, which is themed on, what appears to be, racing a sleek ground vehicle.

"It seems the racing culture has made it out to Epsilon-Hydra," says Spalloz. "These vehicles, pictured with Ken'tsen numerals on their sides, look similar to your Maybellene."

Randool nods in agreement. "Yes, That's why I picked this diner. The travel brochure I downloaded when we arrived in the system said there was an active racing club, and the sign outside made me think of road-bound racing vehicles. One of the customers leaving appeared to be wearing a racing team jacket of some sort." Randool points at an image on the wall behind Spalloz, and observes, "That must be the local racing club holding up their winning trophy. And check out the word written under the winning vehicle. Is it the club name? My translator didn't translate it."

Spalloz turns to follow Randool's nod over the Vulcan's shoulder. Behind him, Spalloz studies the image of a seven person team of Ken'tsens standing around a modern roaster with an alien symbol centered on the side panel. The shorter Ken'tsen in the crash helmet and baggy safety coveralls is holding a trophy at least half as tall as they are. The support crew, also in team coveralls, are crowded around the trophy bearing driver and leaning against the front fender of the four wheeled racing vehicle. Scrawled in hand written Ken'tsen writing is the phrase, "Bomleguooshass-Fueagop A'Lignous-teariddup Ken'ahha-bunnshuss'Pa #1 champion '69-'74."

"It could be the name of their organization," Spalloz agrees.

Randool speculates, "I think it's the name of their vehicle. It looks like they have won five years in a row. I'm impressed."

A slim lanky Ken'tsen wearing a similar team jacket to the ones in the picture Randool and Spalloz have been studying, enters the restaurant and walks to a table past Spalloz and Randool. Randool calls out, "Excuse me please, but would you happen to be a member of the racing team pictured on the wall?"

The male Ken'tsen stops and turns to Randool. He answers with an up and down flutter of his aural crest, "Yes, team

Bomleguooshass-Fueagop A'Lignous-teariddup Ken'ahha-bunnshuss'Pa. We have won the planetary championship five years running."

Randool reaches out a hand, using a common Tiburonian hand greeting. His thumb and index fingers are extended, the middle, ring and little finger are curled in at the last two knuckles. It looks almost like he is pointing, with his thumb sticking out to the side. The H'Popattapi studies the gesture for a few moments. He looks to Spalloz for a clue of what Randool is doing.

Spalloz, noting the man's confusion, offers guidance, "Randool Harrix is Tiburonian. Simply repeat the hand gesture and tap the tip of your finger to the tip of his thumb while touching the tip of your thumb to the tip of his finger. It will make a rectangle representative of the four sides of peace.

"Excellent," answers the Ken'tsen, "My name is Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc." As he's introducing himself, he leans back with a three fingered hand laid across his chest, leaning backwards, chest puffed upwards. His purple-black crest tilts up and spreads wide across the three back of his head. When he's done, he straightens up and reaches out to meet Randool's hand gesture in kind. However his introduction, with his long name, took time and Randool had lowered his hand. Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc waits with his own hand out his thin and first finger duplicating Randool's greeting, his other finger curled under, in imitation of the three last fingers on Randool's hand.

Randool realizes he is being met with the H'Popattapi copy to his Tiburonian greeting and moves quickly to match it. They touch their fingertips together and the Ken'tsen shifts to greet Spalloz with the same gesture, his index finger pointing at the Vulcan.

Spalloz meets the Tiburonian greeting in kind, then follows it with his Vulcan hand sign. "Live long and prosper." After the greetings are dispensed with Spalloz comments, "H'Popattapi names are very long. So you have shortened versions of your names to make it easier when talking to others?"

The Ken'tsen wags his aural crest, "No, few on Ken'tsen would want to give up their dignity by shortening their name. My mother called me, 'Chiff', which means sky. For others to shorten your name, is considered a sign of disrespect."

Randool says, "We are very pleased to meet you. Please forgive us if it takes a few times to get your name right. Such long names are rare in the Federation. Would you mind repeating it again, for me?"

Spalloz says, "Broogleăgee Annastar- Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion."

"Pauc." Says the Ken'tsen, helpfully. When Spalloz lifts an eyebrow in question, the Ken'tsen explains, "You forgot my great grandfather's name. Pauc. It would be an insult to his memory if I did not include a part of his name when reciting my own. I am Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc."

"Please, join us," invites Randool, moving over along the bench of his seat, to make room. "I was hoping you would tell us more about the racing scene in Tju. I have just finished building my own MISER racer and it is road surface capable."

At this, the H'Popattapi's aural crest flutters and his face lifts in delight. "A fellow LPV racer. Excellent." And he sits with Randool. Spalloz leans slightly forward, "LPV?"

Randool explains, "Light personal vehicle. It is a broad general class of racers. They are racing vehicles only large enough to hold a pilot and a navigator, or a single pilot who does both. Maybellene, and your SSSS-One are LPVs. You sure you don't want to give her a name? SSSS-One is kind of awkward."

"It… is a single seat sublight spacecraft, and…it…is the first of its…design. It…is not a male nor female. It…is a machine," states Spalloz, putting emphasis on 'it' to let Randool know he was putting the subject to rest. "SSSS-One is the logical designation. I have no desire to name a machine, as you have."

Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc watched the exchange in confused amusement. Tiburonians tend to emotional thinking, sometimes to a higher degree of irrationality than even humans. Randool's and Spalloz's friendship was extremely odd, considering their highly divergent philosophies, and their new H'Popattapi acquaintance was getting lost trying to reconcile the two.

Randool started to say, "But someone else might build a single seat sublight…"

Spalloz turns suddenly to their guest and asks, "Please, tell us about your racing club. I am new to the concept of speed as a competition, and am attempting to learn more about my friend's hobby. Are there many competitors in your club?

The H'Popattapi smiles and flutters his crest up and down. "Yes," he says, "our club has twenty-three members, the largest ground bound LPV racing club on Ken'tsen. You are welcome to come to a race. There is a qualifier race this evening, out at the flats, around thirty-one hundred hours. I'll be happy to show you around."

Randool smiles with delight. Spalloz says, "We would be fascinated to attend, if our ship's schedule allows. May we bring along a friend, as well?"

"Of course, please do, there is plenty of room on the bleachers, bring whomever you'd like. Just ask for me, Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc on team Bomleguooshass-Fueagop A'Lignous-teariddup Ken'ahha-bunnshuss'Pa."

Spalloz asks another question, "Do team names include ancestral homage, as well?"

"No," answers the Ken'tsen, "Our club is named for our car, which is named for the driver, the lead mechanic, the club president, and two sponsors. It is a real honor to be able to provide such a dignified lineage to our club."

 

The bridge conference room aboard Vulcan

Sam is sitting to the right of S'Talla, who is seated at the head of the large table. Skyvik is seated on the other side of Sam, to S’Talla’s left is T'Pia, on her left sits Charlie, then T'Perl. Ya and Ne are opposite her, Spadek sits next along the edge of the table. Naxx and Art are standing while Proffessor Kazzak works a remote to bring up a holographic display over the table.

The Professor speaks as a three dimensional map of the downtown district of Tju comes up on the screen. His briefcase sits open in the middle of the table.

"Mr. Santayana was able to get good recordings of the inside of the museum with my equipment, but first, it is most logical to talk about the shielding around and inside the museum," says the Professor. "Mr. Santayana also did well collecting enough energy data to provide us with a full analysis of force fields used by the museum."

With these words, the Professor changes the holograph to show a dome of energy around the museum block. It encompasses most of the building. Two of the most prominent building's corners pass out, through the edges of the shield.

"As you know, and as Vulcan has informed us, the city wide shielding makes simply beaming in and out a problem. Francesca and I were able to improve further upon the significant improvements Vulcan herself had been able to make in Professor Tol Houk's design. We now have better than ninety-nine point eight percent chance of success, in beaming through the city's shields. Francesca says she and Mister Spadek can improve on that with a little more work on the math."

Sam interjects, "Our energy beam will be detected and recorded by the city's central defense systems."

Naxx speaks up, stepping forward slightly, "I suggest we contact the city and inform them of work we are doing on our teleporters, so they will be expecting something like a random energy burst. We beam our team into the commerce building across the street, earlier in the day. The city will send out a defense team to investigate five areas, including the commerce building across the street. They will not be expecting to find anything, and at four of those five sites, there will be nothing to find. Our team will have to avoid detection. Art will be able to help with that."

Art straightens up, "How am I supposed to help with that?"

Naxx simply taps Art on his left temple and says, "Use your head."

"This cap makes me invisible, too?"

"Not to the naked eye," Answers Naxx, "but their scans will not pick up anything within a one meter radius of the hat."

Naxx and Art both step back. Naxx has said what he had to say. Art smiles and says quietly, to no one in particular, "I'm liking this cap more and more."

Professor Kazzak continues, "Logically, the museum's shielding will not be vulnerable to our modified transporter, because it will not be on the same cycle as the city's shields. It is possible, likely even, that their different frequencies will allow for very brief windows that synchronize so we could beam through both, but those windows would be less than a nanosecond and may take hours before reappearing. I have designed a field energy ground shunt that can create a localized hole in a force field, but we would need to be on the generator side of the field to use it, and it will only last while the device is engaged."

Naxx steps up again. "A physical body can easily pass through the shielding, once we are inside the city's shields, but that isn't the real problem. Sam, tell everyone what the curator showed you."

A hallway in the Royal Museum of Cosmic Antiquities, three hours earlier

The museum curator, Mortju-Bacc Eel'Atuan Pac-Dauhah Rjatonn-Caugnt, lead Samantha Kelly, Art, Mr. Naxx, Professor Kazzak, and the museum's head of security into a gallery of artifacts. They came upon two guards sitting at desks on either side of a doorway to one of the main galleries. The guards waved their curator and his group in, their aural crests dipped deferentially.

There was a giant stone statue from Easter Island, Earth, a severely scorched metallic device about a meter in length, floating in a stasis tube. It had the word NOMAD on a plaque in front of it. A rod or staff with flared heads at either end, took up another case, the placard read 'Ma'Tok Weapon'. There was an odd looking antique blue British, Earth telephone booth in one corner of the room, no sign to name it. A clear floor to ceiling tube contained a liquid holding a strange creature suspended in stasis or death, it's placard simply read, 'Alien Creature'. There were more such oddities filling the gallery, but Sam and the others stopped to listen to Mortju-Bacc Eel'Atuan Pac-Dauhah Rjatonn-Caugnt.

"This entire building is secured with the latest, most powerful deflector shields. They can withstand numerous blasts from a Klingon battle cruiser's disruptor cannon, even if an attack could breach the city's defensive shields. But, as you saw, we always maintain a live security presence. There are stations with two guards each at various security points. In addition, there are, of course, recording sensors and security lock doors."

The curator motioned the group over to the display that said, 'NOMAD MK-15c'. Their H'Popattapi guide addressed Sam, "Ms. Samantha Colleen Kelly of Vulcan Enterprises, you might find this display particularly interesting, since you have a background in artificial intelligence. This is a new find for the museum, just last year, in fact. The Nomad is an astounding example of a merger of technology between two alien designs. It, unfortunately, has been nearly destroyed from an internal surge overload, but the alien technology, what we can best determine, was a similar device to the Earth probe. We know only its name as Tan Ru. Tan Ru's technology allowed much of the hardware of the device to survive. It seems as though the alien device and the probe, from your Earth, somehow merged both technology and AI programs together like two separate strands of DNA inside a cellular nucleus. They blended together to produce something that resembled each of the two devices, but was unique, as a new whole."

"Excuse my interrupting," interrupted the Professor, "but you said, 'security lock doors'. Would you mind explaining that before you move on?"

The curator fluttered his aural crest with a small annoyance, but he complied. "They are hardened Krynite/Magnibdimum composite doors that engage and lock if an intrusion is detected. Any would-be thief will be trapped inside until our security team is ready to apprehend them." The H'Popattapi turned back to Sam and waved her over towards an odd looking crystal. The curator resumed his tour, "Now this programmable crystal was found on…"

Back in Vulcan's planning room

Sam explains, "The security doors won't be an issue if we can not figure out a way to handle the guards. Our goal is to get in and out without being detected… at… all. So, no 'Magnibidimimumum' security doors to worry about."

Sadek begins to correct Sam, "I believe it is pronounced, Krynite/Magnibd…"

The Professor abruptly takes the floor again, cutting Sadek off from explaining to Sam something the wiser Vulcan scientist realizes Sam did not need an explanation to, "I was able to determine that the stone is eighty-six point four percent likely being studied two levels below the main floor."

"How, in the world, could you come to that conclusion, Professor?" asks Art. "I never saw anything that could indicate there even was a basement, much less a sub-base…"

While Art is asking his question, skepticism heavy in his tone, Kazzak triggers the holograph to change, and a 3-D transparent image of the museum, its surface grade, and three levels of basement and foundation appear above the table. Every room is laid out in detailed 3-dimensional photon graphics.

"Right," concedes Art. "But what makes the Stone only eighty-five percent likely to be there?"

Kazzak points to a small bluish glowing sphere in the center of the second basement level. "That is a third deflector shield. The surrounding equipment and layout of sub-basement level one logically suggests a research laboratory where they would keep acquisitions until they have either rendered them safe or learned how to operate and control them. I can only estimate eighty-six point four percent." The very subtle stress on the more exact number lets Art know the Professor does not approve of Art's casual rounding of his calculation. "Because, while all evidence, gathered by Vulcan, Captain S'Talla and crew, compiled, along with our observations at Cyran Station, strongly point to the Stone being here, I have no way of detecting the Stone. My scanner can see inside the deflector shield in the basement, but there is a dead spot right here, in this laboratory, almost in the center of the shield's sphere. No one has laid eyes or sensor equipment on the Bureki. That logically leaves us with a thirteen point six percent chance the stone is somewhere else. If it is on Ken'tsen, it is here."

S'Talla and Skyvik remain quiet, listening and undisturbed by the possibility that they may not find the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki. They have committed to this direction of their investigation; they will not entertain doubts, only contingency plans.

Sam asks, "Any tricks up your sleeve, Professor, for dealing with the guards?"

Kazzak glances, almost reflexively at his sleeve, but quickly concludes Samantha was speaking in an Earth metaphor. "No," he simply states.

Charlie asks, "How are you planning to get inside the building in the first place? You will be, not only outside the block-wide force field, but outside a locked, patrolled and surveillance recorded building with kick-ass security doors."

The room is silent for a moment. Then, Naxx steps up to the table.

"After we have eluded the city security inspectors, our team will have to enter through this ventilation screen." Naxx points to a tiny vent on the upper corner of the building, just on the outside of the energy deflector dome.

Charlie observes, "That's ten stories up. Why not enter through one of these lower vents? I know they are inside the shield, but we could just walk through the shield and climb the wall only a couple of floors up from the street."

Naxx smiles, "I like the way you think, Charlie, but there is too much surveillance at street level." Naxx points at small yellow cylinders dotted around the outside of the building and on lamp posts on the street.

Naxx pauses to give everyone a chance to take in his information. He finally points again to the tiny vent of interest. "This vent is the only possible access point that does not expose us to sensors. The small missile that will carry a cable across to reach this opening will be traveling with plenty of energy, and may not penetrate the deflector shielding.

"The vent is small, I doubt I will fit, Art might be a tight squeeze. If you would like to volunteer Charlie, you have a slight enough build. We will need two others. Skyvik recommends a four man team inside. Larger and there are too many variables. Someone will miss their mark, or make too much noise, less, we won't be able to secure our retreat."

Naxx takes a breath, "I think Ya & Ne would be perfect, they have agreed, but if we can keep them working with Vulcan on information systems, they can work fast enough to clean up any electronic footprints we might accidentally leave behind. That is where they would be most useful.

T'Perl raises her hand, "I can do it." She makes eye contact with Charlie as she volunteers.

Charlie responds with his own raised hand. "Yeah, sounds like fun."

At Charlie and T'Perl's volunteering, T'Pia lifts a hand, "Someone needs to keep an eye on them, so I will go."

Sam says, "Sorry T'Pia, we need you here, I have already made plans to be the fourth. So don't worry about Charlie and T'Perl, I will make sure they are watched out for."

"Okay, back to the live guards," Sam returns.

"Please excuse my interruption, but, if I may join in on this fascinating game, I may have an idea," interposes Vulcan…

The museum Curator's office

Sam is facing the curator with Art and Naxx behind her. "I am so sorry, Mortju-Bacc Eel'Atuan Pac-Dauhah Rjatonn-Caugnt, but I can not stay on Ken'tsen long enough to attend the auction you so graciously invited me to. I just got word that an important client has brought a complaint about a shipment, and I have to leave immediately to see to his satisfaction. Vulcan Enterprises stands behind our promise to deliver swiftly, discreetly, and above all, safely. So I can not allow a valued customer to wait on hold while I indulge my own whims. I hope you understand."

"Of course, Ms. Samantha Colleen Kelly of Vulcan Enterprises and the United Federation of Planets. I commend your commitment to your customers. Perhaps you will make it back out to Epsilon-Hydra, another time. I might even be interested in becoming a customer, at some point."

"Thank you," Sam reaches out to shake the curator's hand, "You have our contact information. Feel free to call us anytime."

The three Vulcan crew turn to pass back through the door, on their way to the exit.

The crew pit of a Ken'tsen racetrack

The bleachers are less than half filled with spectators. Randool and Spalloz sit on a bench with the bleachers at their backs. A busy crew of Ken'tsen dressed in team Bomleguooshass-Fueagop A'Lignous-teariddup Ken'ahha-bunnshuss'Pa coveralls sit along the same bench, half a dozen more are working around their team racer, parked directly in front of the pit bench. A small technical crew attend an instrument station to Randool's and Spalloz's right. Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc sits to Randool's left.

On the track, a group of ground racers are being called to finish by the lowering of a track-wide staff across the roadway, just in front of the lead vehicle. It shatters spectacularly when the winner crashes through the long stick and the small crown cheer while the announcer energetically describes the final moments and finish of the winner. The engines are loud, but not deafening like old fashion Earth auto races used to be. Their engine whines are higher pitched and have a modulating electronic hum to them. The whoosh of speeding air is nearly as loud when the vehicles all pass the projected finish line.

Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc stands and turns to wave at a Ken'tsen walking along the bottom row of bleachers behind the pit. The young H'Popattapi is carrying a large flat box supported by a strap on either side that runs around the back of his neck, under his aural hood. The young Ken'tsen is yelling up to the people sitting in the bleachers.

"Hey, over here!" Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc shouts.

The young man turns to look at Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc.

"We'll take three Faxy sodas and three bags of Toreenoes, please."

"You got it," replies the young man.

The vendor taps a couple of buttons three times each on the top of his box, then lifts the cover. Inside he reveals three tall drink cups with straws and three sealed snack bags. The vendor reaches the drinks down over the railing and hands them, one by one, to Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc.

Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc, hands two of the drinks to Randool, then Spalloz, before taking all three bags of flakes, along with his own drink, thanking the young Ken'tsen, and turning back to sit down with his guests.

He passes Randool and Spalloz each a bag of the Toreenoe flakes and asks them, "what happened to your friend?"

Randool replied, "She got involved in another project. Our ship is getting ready to head home soon and she is trying to help the captain wrap up a few things first."

A light flashes in the pit.

"We are up next." Their host announces.

Spalloz asks, "Are you the pilot?"

"Oh no," their Ken'tsen host shakes his crest in the negative. "Streak is." He points to the small group of Ken'tsen entering the pit and heading for the car. The shortest one in the middle is just fitting a helmet on before turning to the vehicle.

"Streak!" shouts Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc. The helmet turns and a mechanic steps aside. Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc stands and points out Randool and Spalloz. "These are our two guests, from the Federation, I was telling you about."

The diminutive Ken'tsen approaches, reaching up to doff the helmet again.

Randool and Spalloz can see there is a lighter, feminine look to the figure in baggy team coveralls. When she removes her helmet, she smiles at them and ruffles her aural crest. There is no difference in her crest than in any of the male Ken'tsen Randool and Spalloz have met. Other than her lighter figure, female and male features are nearly identical.

Spalloz queries, while holding up a Vulcan hand greeting, "Live long and prosper…uh… Streak? You are the first H'Popattapi female we have met, you…are female, correct?"

Streak's smile becomes wider and her crest stretches out to match.

"Yes," she answers with a small chuckle. Then she holds her hand out in the Tiburonian greeting that Randool had taught to Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc.

Randool meets it with his own match. "We are very pleased to meet you, but please, don't let us hold you up. You have a race to win."

Streak offers the same hand greeting to Spalloz and replies with a lift of her helmet in one hand, "Oh, we have a good fifteen minutes before I have to be on the track. I usually sit in Bomleguooshass-Fueagop A'Lignous-teariddup Ken'ahha-bunnshuss'Pa while the team goes over the final check and disconnects the power chargers, but I don't need to."

Randool asks, "Your name is Streak. Are H'Popattapi females' names shorter than males? I understand it is an insult to shorten a Ken'tsen's name."

Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc answers for Streak, "It is so, and 'Streak' was meant to be an insult, started by a rival team. It means smear, but Hi'Bunnshuss'Pa-hi'Kihajataja Fillannia-po-hi'Vail hi'Trinnadarrus-Rhanniamay Terrotak hi'Fay thought she would embrace the nickname because, in some dialects, 'streak' means fast. And, some off-planet cultures use it to mean an unbroken series of wins."

Streak explains, "When I got my reluctant teammates to start calling me 'Streak', it removed the power the other teams thought they were gaining by insulting me. I turned the insult into a point of pride. Now everyone who calls me 'Streak' says it with awe and reverence. No one can give me an insult. Only I can choose to take it, and I take no insult by having my name shortened to 'Streak'. My ancestors would approve."

Streak beams and her crest flutters.

Randool says, "I couldn't think of a more intelligent response. I think I'm in love. Have you ever considered dating a Tiburonian?"

Streak's eyes twinkle when she replies, "I have never even heard of Tiburonians before, but I don't think my husband would care for them. Streak laughs. "Excuse me, I have a race to win. We can talk more after."

Spalloz gets a chirp on his com badge. Randool's badge follows with its own alarm.

Spalloz steps away with an apologetic nod of his head, to answer the call.

Randool says to Broogleăgee Annastar-Dirankoleekko Enpo-Kihajataja Eradak'jion Pauc, "Her husband is a lucky man."

Their host answers with a knowing smile, "Yes, I am."

Spalloz returns, "We cannot stay, Vulcan is leaving port in twenty minutes."

The three make their goodbyes. Randool says, "I am torn. I wanted to see your team win. I will return some day, to watch Streak drive. And, you never got a chance to meet Maybellene." Randool taps his badge, "Spalloz and Randool are ready."

The two crewmates beam away.

On the bridge of Vulcan

T'Pree is at sensors and communications, Skyvik is at tactical, Sadek is across the brigade at system support, and Ya and Ne are at helm and defense.

Ya says, "Captain S'Talla, we are now beyond…"

Ne completes, "Ken'tsen planetary sensors."

S'Talla, sitting at command, instructs Ya and Ne, "Ne, engage cloak. Ya, set a course back to Ken'tsen and Tju. Maintain an orbit above the museum."

 

Inside a utility closet on the top floor of the Commerce building

Naxx leads Charlie, T'Perl, Art, and Sam, all five dressed in black, out of the closet.

Naxx folds a compact tricorder closed and tucks it away. "It is clear, and Vulcan must be back in orbit by now. Follow me."

The group moves silently to a window across the large opened office space. At the window, Naxx pulls a short rod, not much longer than the width of his hand, from his belt. He holds it out to the window and it gives a quiet snick to extend to either side of his fist. He draws the rod vertically up from the bottom, holding it horizontally. When he passes the halfway point towards the top, with his other hand, he presses a gloved palm to the center of the glass. He finishes his sweep upward to the top of the window. He clicks the device off and it folds back up to be secreted away into his belt again. Naxx palms his now freed hand to the top of the glass and pulls. A full length swath of glass peels out of the window, about half a meter wide. The glass sticks to Naxx's palms until he sets the glass panel carefully against the wall. The wind from ten stories up blows in and a single loose lock of T'Perl's short black hair escapes her hood to blow across her nose. She ignores it.

Naxx reaches into the front of his tunic and retrieves another small, slim rod. He breaks it near the middle and it folds into a slim gun shape, almost toy like. From his sleeve, he pulls on something, a very slim cable, and clicks it in place at the back of the gun. Then he pulls out another small object and clicks it to the front of the gun's barrel. The object is a ball of sorts, approximately fifteen millimeters across. Naxx aims the device out the window and pulls the trigger. The ball flashes across the distance to the Museum building. Naxx holds his arm out to allow the thin cable to pay out.

Naxx's aim is good and the dart with the ball tip connects with the museum wall, just above the vent cover. When the bulbous head slams against the wall, the spherical shape collapses into a half dome shape. The force, folding the round head up inside the hemisphere of the back side, creating an extreme vacuum bond with the museum wall. At the other end of the attached cable, Naxx grabs the thin line, when they all hear the faint thunk of the missile hitting the wall across the street.

Naxx retrieves the folding rod he and Art had used to scale the wall on Arvada III, from his tunic. The rod extends to almost a meter and a half. This time the ladder steps remain closed. Naxx braces the rod across the top of the window and uses it to pull tight and secure the slim cable. Nobody says a word the entire time Naxx is setting up the zipline. He is prepared and efficient. It only takes moments before he signals Art to step up first.

"Take this. Connect it to the cover and the wall. We don't want to drop the vent to the street," Naxx instructs quietly.

Art takes the small box, then leans out the window, into the wind. He backs up again: "I forgot, I'm afraid of heights."

Naxx grabs the clip dangling from Art's chest harness and clicks it to the taught cable overhead. With a smile he says, "I've always like your sense of humor, and he pushes the human out of the opening.

"Dj'Oukk!" exclaims Art, and slides the length of the cable to hit hard against the wall.

A couple of moments pass while Art orients himself. He attaches the small box Naxx gave him, to the vent. It reels out a light tether and Art clips it to the cable over his head. As soon as both ends are attached, the vent cover pops and swings free, dangling at foot level. Art swings his booted feet into the opening and begins his shimmy to squeeze inside.

Art hears Naxx's voice in his head, "Don't forget to scan for any alarms or patrols, Art. You're doing great. We'll make a first rate spy of you yet."

Art freezes half inside the vent. He fishes out a small tricorder and scans the area ahead of him. "All clear," he whispers.

"Good. T'Perl is next, so make room."

Art gets stuck, one arm inside the opening, the other one thrust out, pressed against one ear. The rest of his body inside.

"I'm stuck!"

Silence.

He squirms and another few inches presses through the opening.

Sam's voice sounds in Art's ear, "Your harness. I can see from here. There's a clip under your arm that's hooked on the rim. Lift up your shoulder."

Art bounces his shoulders upwards, as best as he can and the harness adjustment clip comes unhooked from the vent rim.

Environmental facilities in the attic of the museum

"AWK!"

Art, so suddenly freed from the edge of the opening, tumbles down and into the attic space below. He lands, off balance, onto his buttocks and rolls backwards to fetch up against a piece of HVAC equipment. Dust falls and causes him to sneeze when his face is covered.

Art coughs and says, "I'm in."

A moment later the sound zipping along the wire comes through the opening above and T'Perl's own boots appear, then her legs, as she rolls over onto her stomach.

Art hurries over to give T'Perl a hand and he grabs a foot. Then, T'Perl's rearend slides back into the room, and Art is staring straight at her round bottom.

Art whispers so quietly, he could barely hear it himself, "Wow."

Sam speaks in his ear, "Eyes, Art. I can tell from here, what you are looking at. Keep it professional."

Art responds, as he helps T'Perl slide all the way in and down to the floor, "How…? This damned cap."

Naxx says, "You could give it back."

"Not on your life."

A zip, and Charlie is next. Art hurries to help the young man climb down. Then it is Sam filling the opening and Art is louder in his praise, "Now that's a butt."

Sam hops down, pulling herself away from Art's help and ignores him. She steps into the group and is about to speak when they hear sirens outside the vent penning.

"What's that?" asks Charlie with concern.

Sam puts a calming hand on his forearm. "There are a bunch of unknown energy bursts going on throughout the city. Don't worry, they are not coming here, just responding to investigate those odd, randomly scattered signals."

T'Perl whispers, "Vulcan is covering our activity in a crowd of similar problems throughout the city?!"

Sam nods, "Most are on the other side of the city, but a few are in this area. Hopefully, the responders will have been spread too thin and found nothing significant to pay much attention to our short bursts of the transporter. Now come on, we are still outside the force field, we have to move inside before we can make a hole in it."

They move deeper into the building, weaving their way among the machinery.

Shortly, Sam stops. She doesn't talk, but signals T'Perl to turn around. As the slimmest in the group, T'Perl was given the small equipment pack to carry. Sam opens T'Perl's low profile backpack. She pulls out the device Professor Kazzak and Francesca built, and opens up the attached tripod legs. The other three stand around the device watching.

Sam looks up at Charlie, T'Perl, and Art watching her. "Scan the area," she directs.

Art breaks into motion. He pulls his tricorder out, Charlie and T'Perl do likewise. Sam clicks the device on and a soft glow and a faint, low hum tells her it is working.

Charlie taps her shoulder. He signals by pointing at his screen, then in a direction and mimes walking with his fingers. Sam glances around and sees a couple of loose filters or some type of light weight panels leaning against the machinery. They are quickly propped around the device to cover its faint glow and deaden the hum even more. Then T'Perl snaps out a cloth from her pack and flips it out and over the device. Thee of the crew disintegrate in three columns of light, leaving Charlie behind.

The attic door slides open and a guard looks in. Charlie had moved behind a piece of HVAC equipment, waiting, his breath held, for the guard to leave. A second Ken'tsen guard says, "what do you think? Is everything the same, or do we need to clog up our crests for the third time tonight?"

The first guard closes the door, saying, "I don't want my crest covered in dust any more than you…"

Charlie lets out a breath when he hears the closing door cut off the guard's words. He stifles a cough into his elbow.

The small gallery visited previously on the first basement level of the museum

Sam, Art, and T'Perl beam just inside the gallery Sam and Art had been shown on their earlier visit, the previous day. Sam looks questioningly at the empty corner where the odd blue booth had been a day ago. Art does not notice the missing phone booth. Otherwise, everything is exactly as they last saw it.

They each scan with their tricorders then move down the hall.

T'Perl peeks low around the corner of the hallway they had moved along. Sam's face peeks around just above her and Art pokes his head briefly around, leaning over Sam's back, before pulling them both backwards from the corner.

There are two guards sitting at the end of the hall. Art holds a finger to his lips to silence the two already silent women. The guards have moved their chairs together to watch a small portable vid-screen. The action on the screen looks like an Earth soap opera with H'Popattapi actors. The three can hear the melodramatic organ music that accompanies the domestic drama unfolding upon the screen.

"No Marrah'Tine-Farrah Lukin-Larrah'Ch Ren'tenStimp-Atchaah Rant, can't you see he's cheating on you?" The guard on the left implores the screen. The other guard crunches on a bowl of toreenoe flakes while he watches the action.

T'Perl starts to ask silently, "What do we do?"

Sam holds a hand up to signal 'stop' and shifts her gesture to a single raised finger: 'wait.'

Sam takes a small puck from her tunic and carefully sets it on the floor before pushing it slowly out and around the corner. A faint glow and echoing hum, then Sam peeks again. She breaks from the corner and all three move towards the door. The table and chairs are empty.

Sam hands the puck to T'Perl and whispers to her, "You wait here. If someone comes along, press the button. It will signal the transporter relay in the attic, the guards will be beamed back, and you return to the attic with Charlie."

Another hall, exactly like the one Sam, Art, and T'Perl are in

The two guards are engrossed in their video melodrama. They notice nothing except the action on the screen.

T'Perl scans the door between the two abandoned guard stations, then nods her head. Art steps up to the door, when Sam steps aside, and the two door panels slide open.

Sam leads Art to another door and a turbo-lift, a few paces down the hall. The turbo-lift opens, but Art stops Sam from entering. He points at another door. A staircase symbol is over it. Sam nods and they make their way down the stairs behind the door.

Sam scans the exit door on the next level down and points to the right, switching to hold up two fingers, to indicate the two guards are to the right of the door.

Sam continues scanning.

Out in the museum's sub-basement hall

The two guards are asleep at their respective tables. One leans backwards in his chair and snores loudly at the ceiling. The other is, head down on table, sound asleep, as well. The stairwell door slides open quietly and Art's index finger pushes another small puck into the hallway. Both guards fade in a scramble of transporter radiation.

A duplicate hallway with empty guard tables and chairs

The glow and hum of two transporter beams deposit the two sleeping guards into the two chairs. The snoring guard snorts, his shoulders jump up and his aural crest lifts and spreads. He straightens out of his sleep and opens his eyes. His heavy lids just allow him to look around at his surroundings until they land on his companion across the doorway. He is satisfied and leans his head back into sleep once again.

A monitor station outside the large doors of cargo bay four, aboard Vulcan

T'Pree is monitoring the readings and a video monitor that shows four reproductions of the guarded museum hallways. The second monitor displays the second set of guards just beamed up from the planet surface. One guard is lifting his head to look around.

T'Pree calls into her comm. "T'Pree to Skyvik, it looks like one of the sleeping guards has noticed the transport and is waking up… No. Wait. He has gone back to sleep. All is clear."

"Carry on, T'Pree," responds Skyvik. "Expect the third set of guards any moment."

Another hallway in the museum sub-basement

The two guards have moved both of their chairs to sit on opposite sides of the small table on the right and are playing a game of chance. They each hold one of two identical cylinders and study the set of four alien numbers in three colors, dialed along one side of the cylinders. There is a small pile of chips in the middle and each has a stack at their elbows while they face off.

One guard adds a chip to the center pile and says something in Ken'tsen. One number spins around booth cylinders and when it stops again in position, it has changed color. The other guard swears, "Ghuy'cha," in Klingon. The two Ken'tsens fade away in a transporter beam.

The table and chairs are empty, only the small pile of chips remains.

Another hall, exactly like the one Sam and Art are sneaking down

The two guards sit, playing cards at an identical table. The winner of the last hand reaches to scoop up his chips and blinks. He swipes his hand over the empty tabletop. Where are my winnings? Where are my chips?" His aural crest stands up behind his head in anger. The second guard searches the table, "My chips are gone too."

They look at each other in anger. Each suspecting the other of stealing the chips.

"Give them back, or I'll…"

"I demand their return!"

Each accuses the other of stealing.

"You cheating son of a…"

"I'm a cheat? You were cheating! That four match was impossible without…"

One guard stands abruptly, slamming his three fingered hands down on the tabletop. The other also leaps to his feet and squares off in similar fashion.

Hallway leading to sub-basement lab

Sam scans the doors with her tricorder, then steps back for Art to open them for her.

Inside is a vacant laboratory. Near the center is a pedestal upon which is the stone pyramid. A glow of light surrounds the object. Sam takes the puck from Art's hand and waves him in to retrieve the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki.

Art looks at her and mouths, 'Why me?' while placing the fingers of his left hand in his own chest.

Sam taps his cap.

Art rolls his eyes in resignation and mutters silently, 'Damned cap." He enters the lab and scans the room while carefully making his way to the artifact. The surrounding shield of light goes out as he approaches.

Reaching inside his tunic he pulls out a puck of his own and touches it to the surface of the Stone pyramid. It attaches.

One of the faces of the pyramid glows softly and symbols appear over its surface. Art clicks the button in the center of the puck. Nothing happens. He double clicks it. Nothing.

Art looks back at Sam. Sam is in the hall, scanning for approaching guards. She glances in at Art and holds her hands out to say, 'what's taking so long?'

Art shrugs, then he clicks the button on the puck he'd attached to the pyramid so Sam could see.

Still nothing.

Art carefully hurries over to Sam waiting in the doorway. He puts his lips to Sam's ear: "What now?"

Sam whispers, she does not move her own mouth to Art's ear, "Just grab it, we'll carry it back the way we came."

Art hears Sam clearly in his head. His cap amplifies and clarifies Sam's voice. He remembers. Naxx is probably listening in, as well.

Art looks back at the stone pyramid. He whispers an objection: "That thing must weigh a hundred kilograms."

Sam taps his shoulder. Art looks around. She is holding out a set of straps with shoulder pads. "You're strong. You can do this."

Art asks, "Where did you get that? Why is everybody so prepared for these things?"

Art grabs the harness and walks back over to the pyramid. He sorts through the straps and soon has it secured around the object. He backs up to it and threads his arms into the shoulder straps. Giving Sam a resigned look, he straightens up, pulling hard against the expected resistance.

He stumbles. The stone pyramid is heavy, but much less than he expected. He settles it on his shoulders and smiles at Sam, hoping to impress her with his manliness.

An alarm goes off and the Krynite/Magnibdimum doors slam shut. He looks down from staring at the flashing alarm lights and sees Sam holding the doors opened with a foot braced between them. He notices she is holding a short stout rod in place with her foot.

Art comes back to himself and leaps for the door. It isn't opened wide enough to squeeze through with the pyramid on his back. He helps Sam shove. The doors won't budge a micron.

"Open, damn you!" Art grunts, and the doors slide open again. "I love this cap!"

Sam and Art waste no time heading back down the hall. The next set of doors by the guard's station is closed.

Art says, "Open!" and the doors slide open.

Sam and he rush in and Art heads down the hall around the corner. Sam turns back and points her puck at the empty guard station. The laboratory doors have closed again and have kicked the brace, Sam had left behind, out into the hall. She presses the button and the two guards beam back in. They are tumbling around on the floor, fighting each other. Sam is beamed out.

The guards wrestle for a moment longer, then they lift their heads to notice the museum alarms sounding. They pull themselves to their feet and one sees the stack of chips sitting on the table where they had left them. He tugs the sleeve of his fellow guard and points. Both Ken'tsen stare in wonder and embarrassment.

The museum attic

Charlie turns when the device beeps and more lights start to flash under its tarp. He moves to pull the tarp off and tilt back one of the panels Sam had hidden the tripod behind. While he is inspecting the device, Sam and T'Perl beam in next to Charlie.

Sam asks, "Where's Art?"

Around another corner of the sub-basement level

Moments before Art reaches the doors of the next area, two guards, fast asleep, materialize at their stations. Art barrels out of the opening doors and past the two guards. They wake and stand, groggy, disturbed by the alarms. Art races between them. While they are rubbing the sleep out of their eyes.

"Hey, stop!" one shouts.

"Open!" Art seems to shout back, as he turns to duck through the opening doors, into the stairwell.

The doors slide shut behind him and the two galvanized guards slam ineffectually into the locked Krynite/Magnibdimum doors.

The top of the stairs on the first basement level

Art bursts through the opening stairwell doors and into the main corridor. Two guards are sitting watching a soap opera, oblivious to the sirens and emergency strobe lights going off around them. One reaches into the bag of toreeneo flakes his companion is holding between them.

He points at the screen excitedly: "He's going to ask her to marry…"

Art skids to a stop when he sees the guards and flips around to dive back into the stairwell. The doors close behind Art.

The guard with flakes in his mouth looks up at the closing doors. He spits, flake crumbs flying, and he yanks himself to his feet by his companion's uniform shoulder.

"Hey, shut that off, somethings happening."

The main museum floor

Art finds himself in the back office hallway. 'Museum Curator' is written in Ken'tsen on a door to his left, his translator automatically translates it for him. Art studies it for only a moment to get his bearings, then turns, running as hard as he can with the heavy pyramid on his back. He shouts, "Open!" at the doors, when he gets to the end of the hall on his right.

He flies through, right between two guards facing outward.

Before they can react, Art is several meters past and into the main lobby. Security doors have been locked across the far exits. He runs.

"OPEN!" He shouts at the distant doors. Nothing happens.

Still running across the large open lobby, Art calls, "Naxx. I'm in the lobby, get me out."

"We can't get a lock on you. Use the front doors." Naxx replies in Art's head. His directional stereo hearing lets Art know Naxx is still on the tenth floor of the Commerce building.

"OPEN!" Art yells at the doors he is rapidly running towards. He ignores the shouts of 'stop' from his pursuing guards.

"Open…open open open open open!" Art chants at the doors. The inner set slide open as he gets close enough. "Open!"

And, Art is all but out on the top steps of the museum's street façade. Disrupter fire seems to boom in Art's head while he races through the front doorway. His entire back, from the neck down tingles, inflamed by his nerves, as he realizes he has been shot at. His personal force field, generated by his cap, glows around him for a moment.

 

On board Vulcan, in Engineering

"S'Talla to Engineering." The comm cuts in.

T'Pia answers from her data console, "This is T'Pia, go ahead captain."

Spalloz and Randool are trying to maintain their work responsibilities while the Captain talks to their boss over the comm.

S'Talla starts with her query without further preamble, "How do we get a shuttle through the city shields? We can not get a transport lock on Art. We need a way to get a shuttle down to pick him up. He is on foot, making his way to the museum's street exit. "

T'Pia runs to the nearest turbo-lift. "I need to speak to Art. Is that possible?" She turns and mimes for Spalloz and Randool to listen in. The doors close.

S'Talla answers, "Only through Mr. Naxx. We cannot seem to establish any kind of connection from outside the shields."

T'Pia says, "Vulcan, bridge please." The lift moves immediately.

"You have communications with the rest of the team?" T'Pia asks.

S'Talla answers, "Yes. Art is the only one we cannot connect with."

Vulcan's bridge

T'Pia steps out onto the bridge. "Bring up the city map." T'Pia wastes no time with pleasantries nor deference. The only thing she is concerned with is getting Art back safely.

S'Talla stays out of her way. Skyvik was already bringing up the map as T'Pia exited the lift. He, like his captain, allows T'Pia to act.

"Connect me to Naxx. Do we have a location on Art?"

Skyvik turns from his position at tactical where he has been directing the rescue efforts. "We are projecting his position based upon a moving dead zone. Either his cap or the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki is killing all nearby electromagnetic…"

Professor Kazzak steps out of the opposite turbo lift from the one T'Pia had taken. "It is the Stone," is all he says before joining Skyvik at the tactical controls.

The city map is up.

"What about a shuttle, can we get a shuttle through the city shields?" repeats S'Talla.

Kazzak says, "No. Not soon enough. A shuttle will not be able to maneuver at slow enough speeds to get through the shield in any reasonable amount of time to save Mister Santayana, and it has too much mass to beam it through the shields.

"Our capacity, according to Mr. Spadek's and Vulcan's specifications say we have a ninety-five percent chance of success beaming a mass of two-thousand kilograms through the city shields. After that, the chance of success falls exponentially by a factor of three with every increase of ten kilograms of mass. Vulcan's shuttles have a mass of six-thousand-eight-hundred-forty-six kilograms."

T'Pia is following the roaming dead spot on the projected map with her eyes. It is leaving the front of the museum. A sudden glow of energy seems to point directly at the moving area from the museum's interior.

Skyvik explains, "Disruptor fire."

"Naxx, this is T'Pia, can you hear me?" T'Pia calls into the comm.

"I read you T'Pia." Hearing Naxx's voice seems to allow T'Pia a moment to exhale.

"Good. Tell Art to turn to his right. Have him cross the bridge he can see ahead of him."

Naxx gives a quick reply, "Got it."

The streets of Tju, just in front of the museum

Art is startled by the eruption of energy pulses dispersing in a loud electrical hiss around an invisible sphere surrounding him. He dives through the doors in response and lands, tumbling forward across the stoop at the top of the stairs. The pyramid strapped to his back almost prevents him from rolling upright and he hangs, feet kicking in the air, upside-down for a couple of heart beats.

Art gives a big kick to right himself and hears Naxx's voice as he stands up again.

"Turn right, Art, and cross the bridge."

Sirens are blaring. They are different from the museum's alarm sirens.

"You hear that, Naxx? The city patrols are coming." Art runs to the bridge.

Naxx says, "When you get to the intersection on the other side, take another right. T'Pia says, you need to go four blocks."

Art doesn't reply. He gets to the end of the bridge and runs to the right.

A flash of red and yellow emergency lights approach a corner two blocks ahead. Art ducks into a shop doorway. His breath is labored as he tries to catch it again.

"It's getting… hah…hah… hot down here."

"Just keep going. T'Pia knows a place for you to hide."

Art wants to ask 'how', and opens his gasping mouth to do so, but decides to conserve his breath.

"Move!" Naxx prompts.

Art peeks. The patrol has moved on. He runs.

Naxx's voice encourages Art: "T'Pia says you're almost there."

Art is glad for Naxx's encouragement.

"Art, can you swim?"

Art stops running. "What?"

Another patrol approaches from behind.

Art turns into an alley.

"Stop!" calls Naxx in Art's head.

Art freezes. The patrol cruises slowly past. A spotlight beam sweeps the alley. Art leans behind a disposal unit. He can hear the communicator chatter. "Scans show nothing. We'll do a loop around…" They move out of earshot.

"Don't go down that alley. One more block then cross the next bridge. Dive into the water under the near end and swim under the building to your left.

"Under the building?" Art is peeking out into the street again.

"I don't know. T'Pia says there's an underwater passage beneath the building. You need to swim down and find it."

Art wonders aloud, "How would T'Pia know that?"

T'Perl's voice is in Art's head, "T'Pia, Charlie, and I found it when we were touring the city yesterday. Be careful, it's being used by thieves to move their stolen goods."

Art rolls his eyes, "Oh great."

Sam speaks in Art's head, "just do what T'Pia tells Naxx to tell you to do."

Vulcan's bridge

Skyvik asks Professor Kazzak, "How long until a shuttle can get down to the surface?"

Kazzak replies, "I estimate about one point two one two five hours. T'Pia is being logical, to find Art a place to hide first."

T'Pia says, "Not a place to hide. A way out of the city. Land the shuttle at the space port. Art will meet it there."

Randool speaks over the comm, "We can get Art out in less than 20 minutes."

Kazzak asks, "How?"

"Maybellene."

Kazzak looks at S'Talla. "Who is Maybellene?"

S'Talla says, "I do not know."

Vulcan volunteers, "Maybellene is a small, two person racing vehicle. It is light enough to have a reasonable chance of transporting through the city shields. However, I cannot, as yet, pilot Maybellene, like I can the XA-seven-hundreds in my mission hanger."

The entire bridge crew falls silent to digest what Vulcan has just revealed. Everyone is staring up to the bridge sound system.

"XA-seven-hundreds?" asks Skyvik. "There are light attack drones aboard Vulcan?"

"Yes," answers Vulcan. "You did not know?"

S'Talla asks, "Where is your mission hanger?"

"My mission hanger is located in the forward section below deck C's main hanger.

T'Pia states, "We do not have time." T'Pia turns her head, switching to Randool Harrix's personal comm channel. "Randool, take Maybellene and get Art back. Vulcan, as soon as Randool is ready, transport him through the shields and send… How many of these XA's…? Never mind. Send two, if you have them. I assume they have weapons and shielding."

"Correct," answers Vulcan, at the same time Skyvik confirms T'Pia's speculation.

"Then escort Randool and get Art."

"Mister Naxx," T'Pia calls to Naxx.

"I'm here, T'Pia."

"Tell Art to procure the submersible. Be careful. It is logical that thieves would be armed. He then needs to navigate the canals to the spaceport. We will pick him up from there."

Naxx confirms, "I will instruct him."

Kazzak points out, "There will be no communications with Art while he is under that water."

T'Pia relays the Professor's concerns, "The barium will block all communications with Art."

"Got it," answers Naxx.

The city bridge near the antiques shop

A patrol vehicle hovers past. It stops at the crest of the bridge and a sensor box sweeps a circle, led by a double beam spotlight. Art is caught in the beam running up to the end of the bridge. He is silhouetted against the front of the antiques shop.

"Halt and surrender yourself!" commands the vehicle's PA. The two patrollers see Art centered in their beam. The driver begins maneuvering towards the end of the bridge while the other one comments, "He doesn't show up on sensors at all."

Art panics and leaps over the bridge railing, A disruptor charge deconstructs the end of the railing right on Art's disappearing heels.

Art dives. He is blind. He screws his eyes shut; the sting of iodine burns at the corners of his tightened lids. He gets some of the water under his tongue before clamping his mouth shut. The pyramid carries him upside down to the bottom. Art tries not to panic and gropes in the dark for the seawall. Tiny fish flutter out of his way beneath his fingers.

Art sweeps his arms around, practically crawling on the bottom. He can't be sure he is even turned in the right direction. His head hits something hard. It has a metallic ring under the water. Art pushes to the side, because it's over his head and he finds himself between the curving metal object and the stone wall. Up he shoves.

Art's fingers curl around a ladder rung and he breaks the surface. His eyes remain shut while he takes a careful breath, then another. He waits, listens. He dares not open his eyes with the iodine and barium still dripping from his eyebrows and hair.

The subterranean dock beneath the Antiques shop

Two H'Popattapi men are unloading the small cargo hold of a rust colored submarine. A low clear bubble conning tower sits propped open like a hatch. The aft cargo hatch stands angled up and an H'Popattapi man is carrying a crate up from the hold. He hands it off to another Ken'tsen waiting on the quay.

"I'm telling you, there was only three of them and they took the whole place apart. The woman handled those Klingons, Krauff and Rhool, like they were her toys," says the one on the dock. His head is wrapped in a light bandage with bruises showing on his face. He sets the crate onto a dolly and picks up a small piece of gravel. "Then this skinny guy drops Trammo-Shak'tarrinno Hakkaw'ja-Edieebakk Grohfoe-Illiannorinna Trants without even throwing a punch. Everyone has just started calling him 'Trants,' after that."

The other Ken'tsen comments, "How insulting. I'm sorry I wasn't there. It would have been a different story." He steps onto shore and clicks a remote to close the cargo hatch.

"You did not want to be there. The third guy was nearly as big as… Trants… he he he," the Ken'tsen shakes his head and aural crest in amusement. "Anyhow, he tossed me right up over a table and into the wall like I was a small skipping stone." The bandaged Ken'tsen throws the small stone at the water between the dock and the sub.

The stone skips, then clangs, with a loud echo, into the side of the submarine. There is a big release of bubbles, the sub lists slightly in the water, another burst of bubbles, and the vessel sinks right at the dock. Both Ken'tsen watch the submarine sink in astonishment, then stare at each other. The bandaged Ken'tsen flutters his crest in guilt and fear, while the other Ken'tsen is just confused.

Inside the submarine

Art has settled into the pilot seat and is trying to figure out the controls. He is staring at the large flat panel display screen in front of him. He hovers his hand over a likely area of controls, but hesitates to be sure he's understanding what he's trying to do when a loud clang rings the hull from outside. Art jumps and hits a random spot on the panel. The sub lists with the burst of releasing air from its ballast tanks.

"Dj'Oukk!"

The submarine begins to sink. The clear bubble overhead darkens as the waters close over it, leaving Art completely blind. It settles on the bottom.

"Naxx, can you hear me?"

No reply.

"Okay. How to get to the spaceport?" Art begins to talk himself through the controls. "That's not it. Maybe…?"

He hits a button and a map of the canals flashes up on the screen. "That's good."

Art hits another button and the panel turns off.

"No!"

He hits the panel again and it starts back up.

"Fwew! Alright. Figure this out. I need to go…"

Art scans the map and taps the spaceport on the map. He is rocked as the sub lifts off the bottom. The dome conning tower breaks the surface again and Art looks around. He's still in the secret loading dock. He makes eye contact with the two Ken'tsens. Then, the sub is forced down as it powers out through the subsurface exit tunnel.

The secret loading dock

The two Ken'tsens watch in astonishment as the submarine leaves the dock. The murky waters of the canals of Tju run off and part around the conning dome and they see Art looking back at them.

"Someone is stealing our submarine." The bandaged Ken'tsen shouts, almost with relief. He taps a wrist comm. "Someone has just stolen our sub."

"Well, go after them, you thuks," the thready voice of the shop owner from above comes back across the two comm badges.

The canal outside the antique shop

A small section of wall slowly lifts, like a garage door and a sleek powerboat roars fourth into the canal, to give chase. Only, it stops and drifts in the middle of the canal.

The door closes behind the two thieves and they both stand in the open cockpit to search the canal.

"Which way?" one H'Popattapi asks. He's watching the flash of city patrol lights cross the bridge. They join a cluster of more lights and patrols searching the streets and waters nearby. The two thugs motor sedately around the bend, to avoid scrutiny.

Another boat, a gondola, comes moving lazily along. The oarsman had just dropped off a fair at the adjacent pier.

The guy with the head bandages jumps into the man's boat.

"Hey!"

The thief pulls a weapon and says to the gondola captain, "You're going with me or you're getting off right here." He then turns to his buddy and directs him to the left, "You search that way, I'll go this way." The powerboat roars off towards the next intersection. The bandaged H'Popattapi directs the gondola captain to a distant corner and moves to the bow to search the water. He turns back with his weapon. "Faster!"

The gondola shoves forward, the bow lifting up by the large wake and the thief tumbles towards the stern.

The captain veers to a seawall and is out of his suddenly drifting boat and running away down the street.

The thief picks himself up and looks to the abandoned tiller. He turns to watch the gondolier racing away, then he sees the welling of water just as the bubble shaped conning tower of the stolen submarine break the surface. Art is on his way around a distant corner of the canal.

The Ken'tsen yells, "Stop, Pokkak!" He fires an angry shot from his disruptor, in the direction of the disappearing submarine. The seawall disintegrates beneath a passing H'Popattapi business man heading in to work in the early morning hours. The well dressed Ken'tsen falls into the water and sputters over to a nearby gondola quay.

The angry thief leaps to the stern to take the gondola helm. He has a moment fighting for control, but quickly straightens out and points his boat after the wake of the submarine. He speaks breathlessly to his comm badge on his sleeve, "I found him. Get over here."

 

The cockpit of the submarine

Art is still trying to figure out the controls. He is scrolling through control screens, readouts, the city map, other maps. He did not mean to, but a press of his right foot on the pedal causes the submarine to angle upward. He breaks the surface. Art takes a quick look around. The submarine seems to know where it is going without his further input.

A section of seawall disintegrates to Art's left.

"Hey, someone is shooting at me." Art then disappears beneath the canal waves again.

Converted cargo bay, on board Vulcan

Randool is strapping into Maybelline. Spalloz is helping by folding up the tarpaulin. Spalloz is informing Randool, "Theoretical calculations say your mass, combined with that of Maybellene, puts you right at the edge of the ninety-five percent threshold. My concern is that you will be significantly over that threshold with Mister Santayana and the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki, aboard Maybellene.

"If you can not cross out through the city shields on your own, the probability of a successful transporter extraction will drop by the cube of every ten kilograms over your current weight."

Vulcan explains, "That means you will have less then a sixty-five percent chance of living through a transport. That is assuming the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki has a mass of approximately 50 kilograms."

Spalloz comments, "Live long. Make it through the city shields, so my SSSS-One can beat Maybellene in our first race."

Randool gave his friend a stained smile, "Good luck with that, my friend. I'm just worried T'Perl will be the one to beat."

Vulcan states, "All systems check. Buckle up and, good luck, Mister Harrix. I will be with you to make sure you and Art make it back."

Randool clicks his restraints in place and Maybelline's doors close.

Randool pushes a button on the dashboard and turns a dial. Chuck Barry's song You Can't Catch Me, comes up on the sound system.

"Ready. Energize!" he directs.

Maybellene vanishes in a photonic mist and Randool, belted into Maybellene's driver's seat, is suddenly in free fall inside the city shields.

In Maybellene's cockpit

Randool reaches out and presses the engine engage button. A strained mechanical sound, then nothing.

"Come on!"

Randool hits the button again. This time it works and a building top looms before him. He jerks the steering wheel to the left and Maybellene veers and lifts to a higher altitude. Two XA-700s appear, one on either side of Randool.

XA-700s are single-passenger, semi-autonomous combat drones. They look somewhat like the Greek letter Omega, from above, and have a clear domed cockpit cover with a field drive and shield ring that encircles their width. They have an almost classic flying saucer look with a light weapons array on either side of their bows.

Vulcan interrupts the rock-a-billy music, "Mister Santayana is four point six kilometers from the spaceport. He has pursuers closing in on him. I suggest you try to pick him up as soon as possible, or he may not make it to the spaceport."

Randool reaches out and presses another button. He sees a city map open on the dashboard display. "Okay Vulcan, give me his location."

Vulcan replies, "Mister Santayana's approximate location is in blue. I am also sending you the known locations of his pursuers in red. They are right on top of him."

"Can I speak to Art?"

Vulcan says, "I am relaying your communications directly to Mister Naxx and he has done the same for Mister Santayana. You should have a live connection. I warn you, though. You will only be able to communicate when Mister Santayana is above the surface."

"Art, this is Randool. I'm coming. Just find a landing and I'll get you out."

Silence.

"Vulcan. Can you tell when Art is above the water?"

"Affirmative," Vulcan answers, "I am tracking Mister Santayana by the surface wake he is leaving behind. I will be able to see when he breaks the surface."

Art's voice comes over the comm, "Naxx, I don't think I can make it to the Spaceport. I have to figure out a way to shake these… Hey!" Art's communication was cut off."

Vulcan speaks, "Mister Harrix…"

"I heard. There's a parallel street with a connecting alley. I'll set down there."

Naxx speaks, "We have to move. There's activity in the building below. I'll try to stay in contact, but Sam and the others need to beam up now."

Randool straightens Maybellene out, in alignment with the street below and touches down. The two drones fly just overhead and take up a flanking position above the buildings.

The cockpit of Art's submarine

Art has brought the submarine under control and has settled the vessel on the bottom of the canal.

"Okay," he says to himself. "Well this isn't ideal." Art scrolls through the map of the canal system. "How do I get to the spaceport?"

A warning light comes on with a frantic beeping. A power level guage shows a mostly empty power column and an air guage shows the translated Ken'tsen words, 'Warning, replace air filters. Surface soon.'

"I guess that means I can't wait them out."

Art glances back to the map. "Ah!" He snaps his fingers with an idea.

On the bridge of Vulcan

Sam, Charlie, and T'Perl hurry out of the starboard side turbo-lift, onto the bridge. Sam steps next to S'Talla to study and watch the city map displayed on the main screen. The pulsing blue light that represents Art's position is holding still. The red dots of pursuers are moving along the canal, both on shore and upon the water. A red dot moves towards Art's blue lit position and passes right over it.

The bridge crew watch until T'Perl asks, "What is he doing?"

S'Talla answers, "He is most likely trying to wait the thieves out."

A moment longer and the blue icon begins moving away from the spaceport.

"He's moving away from the spaceport," observes Charlie. "Waiting seems like a good strategy. He should stay put."

S'Talla speculates, "He is surrounded by the antique thieves, he will not be able to safely land at the Spaceport. His only hope is to try and slip by them in a direction they are not expecting."

Vulcan volunteers, "My analysis of the submarines systems indicate low power and possibly poor oxygen levels. Mister Santayana can not stay submerged for very much longer."

Sam asks of Vulcan, "Vulcan, can you communicate with Art?"

Vulcan answers, "Only through Mister Naxx, who has a special frequency connected through Mister Santayana's cap."

"How is he able to navigate, if he can not see through the water in the canals?" Sam asks.

Vulcan answers, "A brief scan of the submarine while Mister Santayana has surfaced, shows a computer navigation system aboard that would be capable of following the mapped canal system without sensors."

"If Art surfaces again, tell him to find a quay to land on near that block right there." Sam steps up to the forward screen and points at a landing on a secondary canal two blocks from Art's current position.

Vulcan answers, "I will do so. I will also be able to update his onboard map to show the relative positions of his pursuers. I cannot be certain he will understand what I can show him. I will try to talk to him."

Immediately Vulcan informs the crew, "Mister Santayana has surfaced and I have provided his system with a snapshot of his current situation. I have informed him of my efforts and… well, listen."

Art's voice comes over the bridge comm. "I can't stay submerged, the sub is running out of air."

Vulcan answers "Sam suggests you find a quay down the next secondary canal. There is no traffic, at this time. However, two identified pursuers are converging on an adjacent intersection. It is logical that one or the other will turn to search down that side street."

Randool's voice can be heard and the bridge crew realize that a green icon moving down from the upper right corner of the screen represents Randool and Maybellene.

"I'm near the canal. Pick a spot, Art. I'll find you."

Maybellene, at an intersection facing the canal

T'Pia instructs over the comm, "Art? If you hear me, exit on the right side."

Skyvik adds, "To starboard of the submarine."

Art answers, "What? Starboard?"

T'Pia says, "To your right. Randool is half a block behind you. Hurry, they are closing."

Randool guns Maybellene around the corner and sees Art jumping to shore. Art has grabbed a railing and is struggling with the Stone's attached straps to pull it over behind him. Art had taken the heavy stone object off his shoulders, to fit it in the submarine, making it an awkward burden.

Randool pulls up, but Art can't get the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki lifted over the railing. Randool leaps out of his seat. They both heave and swing the relic into the space between the two seats.

"Get in!" calls Randool. He is watching a boat swing into view along the canal. An H'Popattapi stands up and brings his disruptor to bear.

Art settles into the passenger seat, shoving the heavy pyramid back to make room. Randool ducks in and the boat races up to the seawall. The pursuing thieves make land only to see Maybellene's rear bumper wheel around the next corner.

One of the two Ken'tsens talk into his sleeve, "He got away in a road vehicle. It will be easy to spot. It is painted with flames."

The flash of lights, and the two thieves are stopped by a pair of city patrol vehicles. The thieves raise their hands to surrender.

Two unobserved XA-700 drones bank away overhead, to follow Maybellene.

Maybellene driving down a Tju street

Randool pulls up to and stops at a Tju traffic regulator at an intersection.

"What are you stopping for? The street's practically empty."

Randool winks at Art and points to the vehicle next to them. It happens to be a sleek ground racing vehicle with a Ken'tsen number painted on the side above the H'Popattapi name, Bomleguooshass-Fueagop A'Lignous-teariddup Ken'ahha-bunnshuss'Pa printed down its length.

Randool presses a button and his side window rolls down.

"Hey Streak!"

The small H'Popattapi sitting in the driver's seat turns and looks. She does a comic double-take.

Flashing lights appear in the distance behind them as they sit side by side at the intersection.

"This is Maybellene."

Streak smiles a slow, growing grin. "Show me what Maybellene can do."

Randool smiles back. "It was nice meeting you. Maybe someday I'll make it a fair fight." Randool rolls up his window, grabs the wheel, the regulator lets them go, and he and Art take off.

Streak had barely crossed the intersection before Maybellene is at the next block and angling up, skimming just above a passing patrol vehicle crossing from the right. She's gone, like a cool breeze.

Maybellene soars into the air when three Royal Ken'tsen interceptors swing into a blocking position above and in front of the flying car. Randool and Art startle.

Art asks, "Whoa! Where did they come from?"

Over their comm link, on a general frequency, an authoritative voice announces, "This is the Royal Ken'tsen Defence Corp. Land your vehicle immediately and surrender."

Maybellene might have plowed straight into them except the two XA-700s swoop in from either side and fire a quick burst of phaser fire at the engine of the middle interceptor. It drops in altitude and Maybellene flies straight through between the other two craft. The two drones follow.

The damaged interceptor recovers, pivots and raises back into position behind. The three of them open fire. The rear deflector shields of the two XA-700s block the disruptor fire from hitting Maybellene. Maybellene continues to climb, but she has to race faster, to get away.

"Randool to Vulcan."

"Go ahead, Mister Harrix," comes Skyvik's voice over the comm, "We see your situation. Be patient and keep climbing."

"Okay, but I can't get through the city shields at these speeds."

"We will be prepared to beam you aboard in sixty-eight seconds. Just don't get shot."

"Beam me aboard?"

Randool juks his vehicle upwards and disruptor fire passes beneath him.

The skies above Tju

The XA-700s split and come around behind the two lead interceptors. They fire, each taking an individual target. The third interceptor has lagged behind from its phaser damage, putting it in a position to attack the XA-700s from behind.

One XA-700 gets hit, its shields taking most of the energy, but not all, and it begins to spin towards the ground. The remaining XA-700 interrupts the aim of the two lead interceptors before it also gets hit and spins downward in uncontrolled decent.

The falling escort drones spin towards the city below when a transporter beam grabs the first damaged drone, then the other in mid fall.

In Maybellene's cockpit

Vulcan announces over the comm, "Mister Harrix, be aware, both escort drones have been hit. You have no protection."

Art looks at Randool, "How fast is this thing?"

Randool explains, "She can't outrun a disruptor and we can't get through the shield with our mass at this speed. We have too much energy."

Skyvik comes on the comm, "Prepare to beam aboard."

Randool says, "We have too much mass. We won't survive."

"We're going to die!?!" cries Art.

The interceptors swing back in behind Maybellene. They have lost a little distance on her, but they are still well within range of their disruptors.

The comm announces, "Land your vehicle and surrender immediately or your life is forefit, by order of the Royal Ken'tsen Defence Corp. Do it NOW, thief. There are no more warnings."

Randool and Art look at each other. Art says, "Stall for…"

Maybellene disintegrates in a fading cloud of photons.

The RKDC interceptors fly past the vacated space. A dark object falls unnoticed beneath them, loose black straps trailing in the wind.

Inside Vulcan's newly discovered mission hanger

"Dj'Oukk!"

Art and Randool are sitting in Maybellene. Five XA-700's stand on slim legs neatly along the sides, lining the launch zone Maybellene is sitting in the middle of. Two of them are scorched and smoke is being vacuumed away into floor vents.

Spalloz is there to greet them when they open Maybellene's two gull-wing doors. "I am glad you were successful. Randool, Mister Santayana."

Randool gets out and addresses Spalloz with terror in his voice. "We could have been killed in that transport. There was barely a sixty percent chance we would live."

Art gulps, "Sixty percent? You mean we had a forty percent chance of dieing?"

Spalloz calmly states, "You had a zero point zero one percent chance of dieing." Professor Kazzak, Doctor Gödel, Vulcan, and I have been reworking the Mathematics, while you were on your… joy ride, as you call them?"

"Joy ride? Reworking the math?" Art gasps. "What does the math have to do with it?"

Spalloz explains, "If we had not improved on the Mathematics, we could not have set the photon sequence contr…"

The bay doors into the rest of the ship opens and T'Pia leads Sam, and S'Talla into the bay.

"Welcome back, Art," says Sam.

Doctor Gödel asks, from behind Maybellene, "D…d do y… y You have the Vai… Vaikar- k Kau-b Bureki?"

Both Art and Randool turn in surprise at Doctor Gödel's presence.

Art nods, "Yeah, sure. It's right here." He leans back in to grab the stone pyramid from between the seats, then straightens back out of Maybellene. "It's gone. We had it. I had it, I swear!"

S'Talla answers, "Professor Kazzak suspected we would not be able to transport the Bureki using our transporters."

S'Talla turns her attention to Randool's vehicle. "Your project, Mr. Harrix, looks fascinating. I wanted to see it. And you, Mister Spalloz, painted the flames on her?"

"That is correct." Answers Spalloz. "My own racer will not be so unnecessarily adorned."

S'Talla looks up from inspecting Maybellene. "It is a relief to have you back, Mister Harrix. I am impressed at your actions to rescue the Bureki. I am sure Mister Santayana is highly appreciative, as well."

Kazzak beams into an empty parking bay of the mission hanger. He makes no comment except to gesture to Doctor Gödel to lead the way to their lab.

S'Talla informs the rest of the crew, "We will be setting course for Halla Station in two hours, where we will hand the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki off, as early as possible."

Earlier, high in the air, inside the city's deflector dome

Maybellene was running from the city's defense ships when she disintegrated in a transporter beam. The stone pyramid, still wrapped in its carrying harness, remained behind. Gravity instantly took over and the stone dropped, as stones tend to do.

A figure in a loose, sky blue, jumpsuit coalesced in the air just below the plummeting artifact. Safety goggles covered his face. He arched his back to look around and rolled in mid-air to scan upwards, where he spotted the trailing straps and stone pyramid falling towards him. His loose voluminous jumpsuit provided enough air resistance that the pyramid caught up with his falling body. He grabbed the straps to secure them in his left hand.

In Professor Kazzak's voice, the figure spoke, "I have the stone. Please hurry. My calculations tell me I only have seventy-three seconds to the…"

An XA-700 banked into position just below the professor. The clear bubble hood opened and the Professor guided the pyramid into the cockpit seat.

"Ready. Beam me out."

The rooftops of nearby buildings flashed past and the XA-700 shot away. The professor was staring calmly down at the upward racing street less than ten meters below. He was beamed out.

On Vulcan's bridge

S'Talla is in her command chair, Sam is at tactical with Skyvik, who is showing her how to work some of the systems. Ya and Ne are at their usual stations at helm and defense, and T'Pia is sitting with T'Pree at communications in a quiet conference together.

Both turbo-lift doors open. Art and Randool step out of the starboard lift while Professor Kazzak steps, at the same moment, from the portside turbo-lift.

Art starts in, "Randool tells me we only had a sixty-some-odd chance of successfully beaming up. Then Spalloz starts in on the math. I don't care what you can make the math say, I am not okay with those kind of odds."

S'Talla turns to give Art her attention. Randool is standing just behind Art, nodding his head in agreement.

"I am told you used to make your living gambling, Mister Santayana. Those odds seem pretty favorable."

Art gets even more indignant, "I do not gamble when I am not sure of winning, and when I can't afford a small loss. This is not the same at all."

The Professor clears his throat, "If I may explain." He had the attention of the bridge. "We did improve on the performance of the photon sequencing controllers, but it was only a small improvement. The brilliance of getting you and Mr. Harrix and Maybelline back in one piece belongs entirely with Francesca. She simply pointed out that we did not need to retrieve you as one unit. Beaming each of you individually reduced Maybelline's mass to where we had a ninety-nine point seven five percent chance of success, after we improved on the math, that is. It is only logical, and I am disappointed in everyone here, that we did not think of such a simple solution earlier, most especially myself. I commend Francesca for her clear thinking."

The bridge crew remains silent, taking in what the professor just said.

"Anyhow," continues the old Vulcan scientist, "I came here to let you know in person, that the stone pyramid is not the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki."

"What?"

"It isn't?"

"What do you mean?"

"How?"

"What is it?"

S'Talla and Skyvik are the only ones on the bridge who don't voice any dismay and question Kazzak. They simply wait for the professor to continue.

"Francesca and I have run what few tests we could on this most intriguing object, and it is our conclusion that the device is simply a user interface to the Stone. Once we figure out how to use it, we can control the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki, but the pyramid is not the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki itself."

S'Talla turns, without comment, to the helm. "Ya, set our course for Halla Station. We can continue our hunt for the Bureki from there. Let us go."

RETURN TO THE BEGINNING

 

Sweet critter design on both the Octillian and the H'Popattapi. And I'm totally loving the Ctrl-C/Ctrl-V boxcar names for these guys and their stinkyness about making everyone spend a week saying their full name...

Kind of Harry Potter meets Oceans 11 meets Tokyo Drift... Guest Starring Treebeard ("Takes a looooonnnnggg time to say anything in oooolllllldddd Entish...").

Got a heist, a fight scene, a car chase, some bureaucratic skullduggery - what more could you want?

Thanks!! rbs

 

Thanks rbs. It was fun to write, once I got to it. There's a lot more I wanted to put in but It kind of got away from me, as it was. For instance, the brief moment when S'Talla psychically made the Octilian drop his weapon. Octilians have four separate reptile brains for each of their four bifurcated legs. Their brain structure is "primitive", if intelligent, making them especially susceptible to psychic attacks. I wanted to have someone ask S'Talla or Skyvik about that, to explain it to the reader, but I felt those types of thread tying in the story would only lengthen it without giving any new value to the episode.

-Will

 

Excellent episode, maybe my favourite one from the Vulcan series so far. Loved how the heist scene played out, and the subsequent rescue of Art. And some Chuck Berry to boot!

And I had a feeling their quest wouldn’t be over yet. The plot thickens…

 

Thanks BountyTrek, I appreciate the compliment. It was a lot of fun. I'm sorry there wasn't more Maybellene, but there's still 14 to 16 episodes to go.

Since Vulcan was witnessed and recorded leaving orbit the day before and only Art was seen during the Museum heist, with no electronic records, at that, the crew of Vulcan can probably safely return to Ken'tsen and do more racing against and/or with Streak. Who knows, I certainly don't.

-Will

 

Where can I find the rest of this series? I haven't read any of it and I want to start at the beginning, please. I'm so sorry for the neglect. I've been so busy with my Lincoln story.

I'm sure an Admin is going to court-martial me now. I've been a bad Elm. Bad Elm!

 

There is a table of contents with links at the beginning of each episode.
The first episode is here: The Vulcan, Season One, Episode One

Thanks for your comments. I'm glad you are enjoying my writing.

-Will

 

To all you fans who are following my series, I apologize for the long delay in posting the next episode. I don't have an update about that, but here is, finally, the cover drawing for this episode. I have pasted it to the top of the thread, as well.


By the way, here is a link to the website I use to generate direct links to my Google Photos pictures. https://www.labnol.org/embed/google/photos/
This is a great site because I don't need to upload the pictures to another site. I just create a shared link in Google Photos, then paste the share into the dialog box on labnol.org and generate a direct image link. I then can paste that link into my forum post and the image gets embedded. Otherwise, the Google photos link is just a link to the shared image, not the image itself.

-Will

 

Great picture of Maybellene... Great cover for this story - leave the reader wondering what the heck - until they get to that part of the story...

Thanks!! rbs

 

Nice Photo Will.