The continuing voyages . . .

"Truthfully? I have no clue what's going on." I sighed heavily, leaning on the back of my chair as if it were reality itself.

"I've run over a dozen tests now," I continued, rubbing the ridge on my forehead roughly, "and I keep getting conflicting results. One test will say she's got a concussion, but I can't find any physical evidence of trauma. Another will say her electrolytes are down, but her blood tests come out normal. Yet another test said she's pregnant!" I threw my hands up in frustration, as I had a few hours ago at my desk as the results came in.

I smirked at Shay'taal, "Don't worry, though. She's not."

He frowned and nodded at my ramblings, thinking it all over. "You think it's part of the bigger picture? Or is it still separate?" He half-smiled at the look that crossed my face, "We're all grasping at straws here, Doctor."

I bit my lip, thinking. "I guess it could be. I had other patients adversely affected by the, er, inhabitation of the DS9 crew. I suppose I just presumed Sarah was one of them, but I could be wrong." I shook my head and walked over to him. "But seriously, Captain: I don't know what more I can do for her. I can run all those tests again, but with no definite answers I can't even begin to devise a treatment."

His frown returned and his antennae seemed to droop a little.

"I do have one idea, though." He arched an eyebrow and one antennae in my direction. "I'd like to call in a favour with our new science officer..."

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“We’ve reached the distress signal’s coordinates,” Sutal announced crisply.

“Red Alert, until we know what we’re dealing with,” I ordered. “Conn, bring us out of warp. Look sharp, everyone.”

The Varich shuddered as her warp engines disengaged. The stars reverted back to pinpricks of light. Duram looked up. “Two vessels, Captain. The Baltar’s Treasure, and an Orion cruiser. Weapons on both ships are hot, but no one’s fired on the other.” Her station beeped, and she looked down. “Captain! Both ships are targeting us!”

“Evasive!” I snapped, but as usual Sutal was one step ahead of me. The Varich rolled to starboard as phaser blasts sailed through space where we were a second ago. “Oh, the hell with this. Duram, disable both vessels. Weapons first, then engines.”

Varich rolled again to avoid a barrage as the two vessels started to move apart, trying to catch us in a crossfire. Then I heard Duram fire our weapons. A second later, a ruby beam pierced the Treasure’s shields and her lights flickered, and went dim. The Orion vessel tried to flee, but a well-placed quantum torpedo persuaded them otherwise.

“Both ships are signaling their surrender,” Renzo said.

“Duram, prepare security teams to secure both ships. I want to know what the hell is going on here,” I snarled.

* * *
“Smugglers,” Duram said an hour later. All of the senior staff had assembled in the conference room, including Commander Quinton, who was finally up and out of Sickbay. Although Merinn was livid, there was little she could do, as technically nothing showed up on her scans as being a problem. Duram continued, “Both ships were packed with illegal drugs. It looks like we interrupted a transfer. The Orion crew is wanted in three systems, and ‘Rory Reynolds’ is an alias. We’ve identified him as Geoffrey Billings, a wanted smuggler and con man. Every member of both crews has a record going back years.”

“And I assume they didn’t send any distress call,” I said sardonically. Duram shook her head negative. “Great. So we have a mysterious distress call that sends us chasing criminals. While hardly a bad thing, I still can’t help but feel manipulated.” I swiveled to look at Stadi. “Any telemetry from the probe yet?”

She shook her head. “Nothing yet, but the probe will reach our rendezvous point in three minutes. Unfortunately, since the probe’s sensors are powerful but short-range, we have to wait until it drops out of warp before we can get readings.”

“Damage report?” I asked Delmonte.

He shook his head. “We only got hit once, thanks to some crazy flying.” He winked at Sutal. “The fore shield absorbed it, with only minor damage. It’s operating at eighty-three percent capability now, I’ll have it back up to full power within the hour.”

“Telemetry from the probe,” Stadi announced. We all looked up at the viewscreen as she transmitted the data there. We all watched carefully, and I could see several members of my crew tense. “Debris,” Stadi said tonelessly. “Definitely a ship.” On the screen, we could see chunks of metal float in zero-g, twisting in a dance that one could call pretty, if one ignored the Klingon bodies floating in the wreckage.

“So the Dai’Loque send us on a chase after criminals, knowing that we’d take the bait of a distress call, and would be bogged down in the aftermath, then destroy the Klingon ship sent to rendezvous with us?” Quinton asked skeptically, her voice slightly hoarse. “That makes no sense.”

“Cheese,” Jen said suddenly. We all looked at her. “Rats in a maze. Rat gets through the maze, he gets cheese as a reward. The smugglers were our reward for acting properly.”

I blinked in confusion, but I could see Stadi, Merinn, and Quinton’s eyes widen as they apparently got the reference. “Right. And for those of us who don’t wear blue?”

“Old Earth experiment,” Sarah Quinton replied. “The particulars aren’t important, but it is essentially training via positive reinforcement.”

“So somebody just patted us on the head and said ‘Good Starfleet?’” I asked incredulously.

“Looks that way,” Stadi conceded.

I rubbed my temples. “Great. Just great.” I sighed in frustration. “Sutal, set a course for Starbase 281-Kappa. We’re dropping off our new guests and letting them deal with it. Then we head for the Klingon border.”

“Still going after the Dai’Loque?” Duram asked.

“Yes. That’s what we’re supposed to do in the first place. We continue the mission as best we can. However,” I looked over at Commander Stadi, “this may be a long shot, but rifle through Starfleet files on this and nearby regions, and look for any omnipotent entities or races. I think this is some sort of test. I’m wondering if the Dai’Loque are also being manipulated.” She nodded. “Alright everyone, to your stations. Dismissed.” As my crew got up to leave, I caught Merinn’s eye and tilted my antennae subtly. Luckily, she picked up on the cue, and stayed behind as everyone else filed out. “How is Commander Quinton really doing?” I asked her.

Listening to the exchange, I decided that at least today, I was perfectly happy not being a telepath. I'd worked most of the night shift, tuning up the weapons equipment just in case we ran into a problem. Most of this shift had been spent running a diagnostic on it to make sure my alterations hadn't caused any damage. I was still getting used to not having to ask permission to do this sort of thing. I followed along with the general gist of what was going on and sped up the diagnostic, deciding that it would be better to have everything done in the next hour, in case this wasn't what the new Science officer thought. It's not that I distrust her, I just don't know her and laying everything on her opinion doesn't sound like much fun to me. I'm sure she's good at what she does or she wouldn't have been assigned for this mission but Starfleet Command isn't perfect, no one is.

I watched Jen out of the corner of my eye, a little worried as I watched her slowly turn paler and paler and start to sweat as time went on. I guess if experienced telepaths have trouble dealing with the sensation, someone who woke up that way one morning with no previous experience with it was going to have a much harder time. She glanced at me and I smiled at her. Using the little messaging feature on the panel in front of me, I sent her the message, 'Hang in there. 25 minutes til destination. If it gets too bad, ask Commander Stadi to shield you. I read in her file she can do that for people other than herself. Didn't you know? She's a freak of nature ;)' She smiled a bit at that and I sighed with relief. If she could still smile, it couldn't be that bad yet.

The diagnostic was finished, which meant I had about twenty minutes to kill. I smiled a little to myself and started writing out a program. Five minutes later, I set it to run on Jen's console. Watching from my station, I worked on not laughing as her console turned pink and a hamster danced across it, using word bubbles to tell her the information she was looking at. When she looked up, I was careful to look down at my console and keep from smiling. I heard her laugh a little, quietly, and then she sent me a message, 'Very cute, how do I turn it off?'

'You don't. I do.' And then I sent the second program, which turned the buttons blue with a starscape in the background. This one had a talking moon.

She snorted, glancing at the Captain to see if he noticed but he seemed to be imersed in something Stadi had just sent him. She sent again, 'We're there in 2 minutes. Turn it off!'

I did and sent back, 'Mission accomplished. We're there in 2 minutes. How do you feel?' Startled, she glanced up and then shook her head and smiled. She wasn't the only one studying Psychology on her down time. Although admittedly, I had less downtime now that I didn't have a commanding officer telling me to stop messing around with things. I could keep track of what I'd done, and that seemed to be plenty.

Just before we'd received the distress call, I'd gotten to the report on the XO, who was still unconscious, no reason given. I guessed from that that reasons were unknown, judging from the rest of the report. It looked like she'd taken some pretty hefty mental beating and my guess was she was just recovering. Still, I sent a note to the Dr, offering my services if she continued to have trouble diagnosing. And then I found myself smiling a little as the Captain gave a command to my predecessor and took a moment to correct himself. I sent the probe, keeping track of its course and its readings. Everything seemed normal, but something about this distress call hit me as off. It took me a moment to realize I'd had the intense feeling of being watched for the last few moments. I had put it down to the captain's scrutiny as he watched me work, but he'd looked away and the sensation remained.

I took a slow breath and did a quick scan of all telepaths on board. All but the weakest and those whose telepathy functioned through touch, like the Vulcans felt something. Jen looked up as I scanned and I nodded slightly, hoping to reassure her. She shouldn't have noticed, although the jumpy feeling this sensation was giving us all might have accounted for it. I frowned, "Captain, I believe we're being watched."

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow, the expression somewhere between curious and bothered, although I think it was more bothered by the situation than by my interruption, "Would you care to elaborate, Commander?"

I nodded slightly, "I have the intense sensation of being watched. I'd put it down to nerves about a new post until your comment about someone toying with us. Just now, I did a quick surface scan of the telepaths aboard, all of us have the same sensation, although to varying degrees largely dependant on the level of their telepathy."

He frowned slightly, "All of the telepaths?"

I nodded, "I was born with a higher level of psionic powers than is normal, even among my people. And the ratio of telepaths on this ship is slightly lower than on most others, as after the last mission the larger portion of them requested transfer or shore leave to recover from the mental invasion. All of them feel as though their being watched."

Sutal met the Captain's gaze as he checked with her and nodded, "Even me, and my telepathy should not be receptive to this sort of thing."

The Captain nodded, "Are the Dai'Loque telepathic?"

I considered, brushing a few stray strands of hair behind my ear, "They have told us they are not, and the way they interact and everything we have learned about their society, both from broadcasts and from the emisary they sent, suggest that they are not. However, certain types of surveilance equipment will register to telepaths while it does not to others because we can sense the person watching behind the equipment. Powerful enough equipment to monitor the entire ship would definitely register, probably exactly like this. I believe you're right, this is some sort of manipulation. However, it seems more likely geared towards determining if our apparent good will towards strangers is genuine or if it's just a ruse to gain power. We are much larger than them and in terms of population and weaponry, we could easily defeat them, however much intelligence they may have on us. My professional opinion on the situation is that we should continue to answer the beacon and show them that we are, in fact, the people we claim to be. Speaking as a telepath of not inconsiderable ability, however, this is intensely uncomfortable."

"Then we will continue, for now. Renzo, call yellow alert. This may simply be a test, but I will not be caught unawares. The second we get any information from that beacon, I want it. Until then, Commander, please inform me if this sensation alters or intensifies." I nodded and went back to the readings from the beacon, adding sensor scans with Science's more sensitive equipment. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself not to slam up all shields against this intrusion, only dampening it and monitoring. If we did not need that information, I would never allow this sort of intrusion to continue. I also kept an eye on Jen and Sutal, watching their reactions. I hoped Jen didn't need any assistance dealing with this, it was bad enough to continue monitoring the sensation. So far she seemed to be doing alright, but it hadn't been going on that long. I could only hope.

I sighed, elbows propped on the end of her bed, watching her sleep.

"Merinn? Is that you?"

I hadn't heard the door sliding open. I straightened, with some difficulty, and turned to see Dusstrar silhouetted in the doorway. A nod was my only reply.

"You look awful," he stepped into the dimly lit room and strolled over to me, glancing at Sarah's sleeping form. "Any luck with the Commander yet?"

I sighed heavily, "Well, according to her latest scans, either she's got the Black Plague or she's pregnant." This illicited a concerned frown from my green friend.

"I have no idea what's wrong with her, Dusstrar. Not a clue."

I stood in slience with him for a few seconds before straightening and offered what must have been a very weak smile. "But maybe I'll have better luck with you. How can I help?"

He shook his head. "Oh, nothing's wrong. I spoke with Orestez, he said you'd been working extremely long hours. I just thought I'd check in on you. He said if he did, you'd be..." he tilted his head, thinking, "... snappy?"

I chuckled a bit, "Yeah, I guess I've been rather horrible to him lately."

Dusstrar nodded. "Merinn: go home. You're not going to cure Sarah by staring at her, and you're not going to be able to come up with anything if you're exhausted. Go home, do some art, rest. And don't come back until you have to."

I blinked up at my friend and smiled. "You're right. Of course. Ok, I'm going." As I turned to the door, I felt the deckplates shudder under my feet and I sighed.

"I get the feeling I'm not going to have as much down time as I thought..."

The Varich slipped into warp without even a hiccup. The current flight plan was cruise from DS9 to the Klnigon border at Warp 5, and rendezvous with our Klingon escort in about thirteen hours. The soft beeps of the various stations surrounded me as I settled into the Captain’s seat and contemplated what my new Science Officer had relayed to me about these Dai’Loque. Regrettably, it wasn’t a whole hell of a lot.

I also contemplated my new Science officer. Her telepathy didn’t bother me; I’ve served with enough telepaths to long ago shed any inhibitions about my thoughts. While Andorians are a private people as a whole, one has to make adjustments to make a career in Starfleet. Besides, since I rarely made any secret of what I am thinking about at any given time, I figured I don’t have much to worry about. I recalled one time when a Betazoid classmate once told me that to read my mind would be redundant, anyone watching me could figure out what I was thinking. And if they couldn’t all they’d have to do is wait ten seconds and I’d act on my thoughts anyway. I took that as a compliment.

No, what concerned me was her inability to sense me. Not only did it make it difficult for her to react to me, it also made me concerned about what other effects my run-in with the Q have had. It also made me wonder if Sutal would be able to perform a mind-meld. She had never expressed any interest or desire, but it still made me wonder.

I decided to have Merinn do a detailed physical and mental examination after the Dai’Loque issue was resolved. That settled, I brought up some unfinished reports for Starfleet Command and started working. Beside me, Jen was reading a psychology article of some sort, and the rest of the Bridge crew was absorbed by their own tasks. Sutal concentrated on Conn, Renzo on Ops. Behind me, I heard Duram run a diagnostic on the weapons systems. I wasn’t sure what Stadi was up too, but I assumed she was catching up on previous missions.

Several hours passed in a productive silence as everyone busied themselves with their tasks. I filed the last report and stretched, my work load finally cleared. Checking the ship’s computer, I realized we were about halfway to our destination, which meant Alpha shift was nearing its end. I idly wondered if Merinn would be able to squeeze in that exam when Renzo suddenly straightened at Ops and bent over his board, checking something.

Immediately the entire mood of the Bridge shifted, as everyone refocused their attention on Renzo, anticipating a problem. Even Commander Stadi looked over, her brow furrowing. Renzo straightened, then looked back at me. “Distress call, Captain,” he said, seemingly unperturbed by everyone’s attention. “From an independent trading ship Baltar’s Treasure, out of Piscus III, registered to a human merchant Rory Reynolds. No explanation, just an automated distress call.”

I looked over to Sutal, who was ahead of me, as usual. “One hour, ten minutes away at maximum warp.”

“Alter course,” I ordered, and I felt the vibrations rumble through the ship as she complied and the Varich jumped to Warp 9.8. I looked back at Renzo. “Any further data on the Treaure?”

“Checking now,” he mumbled as he read data from his station. He frowned. “According to his flight plan, he was on his way from Bajor back to Priscus III.”

Without looking up, Sutal interjected, “These coordinates don’t match that flight plan. He’s about three light years off course.” When I looked back at her, she shrugged, her eyes still on her board. “However, any number off factors could be responsible for his deviation.”

My instinct twitched. I frowned. “Renzo, contact the Klingons and give them our status. Then try and hail the Treasure. Something’s not adding up here.” Without looking back, I added, “Vol, prep and launch a warp-capable probe and send it to our rendezvous point with the Klingons. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.”

Sutal coughed. I looked down at her, confused, then winced as I realized my slip. “Commander Stadi, please launch a probe. My apologies.”

There was a second of silence, then I heard Jen hiss something. I looked back to see Stadi working her controls, then she looked up and met my eyes. “Probe launched,” she said.

“Checking on the Klingons?” Renzo asked as he tried to establish a comm signal.

“Got a feeling we’re being played with,” I said tersely as I returned to my seat. “If I’m wrong, no harm done. If I’m right, then this is a distraction.”

“If you’re right,” Duram said slowly, “then the Dai’Loque know enough about us to be able to manipulate us.”

"Yeah, and that does not make me happy," I growled as I stared at the viewscreen, stars blurred into lines as we hurtled towards the Treasure.

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"That's not going to cause a problem, is it?" The captain actually seemed vaguely concerned, so I thought over my answer, figuring he'd prefer an honest one to the easy one. The admiral didn't have a mental presence I could feel, but everyone around him reacted strongly enough that I could tell generally where he was without attempting to reach for him and potentially melting my brain. This was different. Still, I could find other ways to handle this.

"It may take some adjusting, but it shouldn't be a problem for more than a day or so. The admiral is similar, although he is more of a void than a simple lack of presence. I'll adjust."

He nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer, "Good. Your presence will no doubt take a bit of adjustment as well, I've been working with the same science officer for four years." I nodded, considering him, resisting the urge to press the matter mentally and see how resistant he really was. I could be pretty sure that if I tried, I could force through the wall. But that would be unconscionably rude, not to mention carried the risk of hurting him or just pissing him off. First day on a new ship, it's not a good idea to try to force through the captain's mental barriers. I nodded and returned to what I was doing, still mulling over Renzo's comments when he'd called the captain earlier. Sutal was the Flight Conn officer, if I remembered correctly and was listed to have a fairly close relationship with the captain. But ... claws?

At least I had more of a clue than most new officers, thanks to my status as emergency Councilor, I was allowed access to the psych files on the entire crew. I was generally speaking not responsible to act as Councilor except in an emergency, except for at the direct request from the current councilor. But at least Starfleet was finally realizing that one Councilor and two hundred people was a bad combination, especially on long voyages beyond Federation space, where the crew is generally restricted to the company of one another for long periods of time interrupted by brief shore leave on planets full of strangers.

"Commander Stadi?" I looked up and realized he must have said my name once before, I'd been lost in thought and there had been no thoughts directed my way. Definitely going to take a little adjustment.

"I'm sorry, Captain, I was lost in thought."

He nodded, frowning a bit, "I was asking what you know about the Dai'Loque. You are an anthropologist, are you not?"

"Yes, Captain. The Dai'Loque inhabit a P.E. of only three systems, with a total of five inhabited planets. They are a female dominated society, or that's what we think given that every comminique from them has had nothing but females, even in the background. It is possible, however, that they are an exclusively female race. They seem to be not unlike the Klingons in terms of their general attitude, they are most likely a warrior race or at least one with strong instincts towards violence. They are what we would classify as humanoid, although only just, ranging in height from six to nine feet. They have retractable claws and extremely sharp-looking teeth. Their ears are pointed but are higher up on their head than most humanoid races, looking similar to an Terran canine or perhaps feline. They are covered in what looks like a very fine fur, ranging in color from tan to a deep crimson, although we cannot tell if they dye it. They have been very aggressive in their dealings with us so far, demanding rather than requesting our help and offering threats when we told them it would take us some time to come to a decision as to what sort of mediators and how many to send. Also, it would seem that they have been aware of the Klingons for some time and perhaps chose now to make themselves known. We're not sure how long they have been watching the cultures around them, but they certainly seem to have an in-depth knowledge of recent Klingon history and even some portion of human history, although not of most other Federation races, to our knowledge. When we told them they would have to wait for an answer from us, they threatened to seek help from the Romulan Empire if we refused to mediate, so they are at least aware of that conflict, if not of the nature of the Romulans." I was surprised to see him listening carefully. I have found that many Captains prefer to leave aspects of culture to me and want simply to be briefed on how best to act towards this race or that, rather than an indepth run down on what we know. Of course, this was about as in-depth as it got on the Dai'Loque, they were entirely new to us and we hadn't had much time to find out about them. I only hoped my internal choreographer managed to keep us on track or we might find ourselves surrounded by a hostile race of warriors.

"Alright. Keep me informed of any new information we receive about them before we arrive. I don't want to walk into this situation blind. That only leaves to trouble. Thank you, Commander." That sounded like a dismissal to me, so I returned to going over the research reports, listening more carefully to what was going on around me. I got the feeling he would be understanding the first few times, but if I continued to ignore him when he spoke to me, he wouldn't take kindly to it.

I noticed Sutal giving me a measuring look and remembered that Vulcans can be very territorial. I smiled at her and lifted my hand enough that she could see my wedding ring. It seemed to reassure her and she nodded, returning the smile. There are definitely certain interactions that are made infinitely easier by being married, especially happily so. I stretched a bit, having stiffened from the last half hour of staring at a screen, thinking to Belari, How are things going down there?

I could feel his laughter as he sent back, Already climbing the warp core, dearest. How did things go with the captain? I told him and could feel his laughter multiply.

Watch it. I outrank you. And you aren't going to be able to sense him either, so keep your eyes out for him. I sent him an image that was clearer than the picture on the briefing. ID pictures always look terrible, not to mention nothing like the person they're of. You'd think with all we can do they could take a decent photograph. Having finished stretching, I went back to reviewing what we were researching and assigned one of the enlisted men to gather everything we had on matriarchal societies, warrior societies and anything he could find that either was directly related to the Dai'Loque or sounded like it might be about them. Often, alien races we have not met who know about us show up in legends or stories, having been to study us long before we became aware of them. The Dai'Loque seemed like a small P.E., unlikely to be one such, but there are always races who prefer to study other races, rather than expand their own territory. Five planets might be enough space for such a race, if those with a wander itch went out to explore other races.