Deep Gate 2

Personal log: M'eioi, officer commanding USS Madagascar

The Ferasan's ears fold flat to the sides of her head. Her eyes, emerald-green in the lighter stripe that is the only marking on her blue-black fur, narrow. She opens her mouth wide, displaying her enormous Ferasan fangs to the full, and she throws back her head and screams.

The scream is terrifying - high-pitched, with snarling overtones - and it echoes, ringing through all the vast domed space around us. I see crewmen at distant workstations look up, startled. And I feel my own claws tense in my fingertips -

The Ferasan opens her eyes and chuckles. "M'eioi must forgive Rrueo," she says. "Rrueo just wanted to test the echo."

I relax. A little. "I take your point," I say. "Tuterian design philosophy is... well, different."

"Different indeed." Rrueo looks around, at the enormous hollow sphere about us, at the bridge workstations on free-floating discs linked by narrow walkways. "And Rrueo thought her ship's bridge was inconveniently large - M'eoi's old ship could fit inside this bridge, surely."

"Just about." My last command, the science vessel Timor, wasn't big. But she was tough, tough enough to cope with the Vaadwaur and the Voth - "Size isn't everything. But now the engineers have cleared some of these Tuterian prize vessels for general use, well, Science Division can use them."

"Rrueo does not doubt this. A Denuos-class dreadnought carrier - Rrueo almost feels she should be jealous." She rests one hand on the railing around the command disc, and looks down into the bowels of the ship. "Though Rrueo prefers Ferasan designs, that is certain."

Rrueo and I worked together during a crisis in the Delta Quadrant. We didn't come out of it friends, exactly, but we managed not to kill each other, which is good going for a Caitian and a Ferasan. Now, with the Treaty of Sauria - supposedly - setting up the basis for a rapprochement between the sundered branches of our species, the occasional diplomatic visit is reckoned a good thing. Which is why Rrueo is a guest aboard my new command.

Now she is prowling around the edge of the command disc. She looks a little like me, I suppose, though I am somewhat shorter and slighter in build - and my fur is plain black, without the blue tint - and I don't have those massive fangs. Sometimes, in my darker moods, I think the Ferasans' original designers were right, and she does look like an improved version of the species. But only in my darker moods.

The comms console suddenly pings for attention. I touch the button, and the main screen springs to life. I wince. There are definite scuff marks on it, from where the human engineering team re-jigged the gravity plating and played field hockey on it.... The face forming on the massive screen is that of a matronly Denobulan woman - Admiral Stroffa, the head of Stellar Survey. I come to attention and salute.

"Admiral M'eioi." Stroffa glances to one side. "And General Rrueo, I see. Is our hospitality to your satisfaction, General?"

"Rrueo has no complaints," says the Ferasan. "Should Rrueo absent herself, while you two talk business?"

Stroffa smiles. "No need. The KDF is already aware of the relevant factors, in fact." Her gaze shifts back to me. "A routine survey of Galactic Object 4704 had unexpected consequences. That anomaly seems to have... come to life. It emitted a wide spectrum of exotic radiation, under the stimulus of a powerful energy beam of undetermined origin. This is, to say the least, unusual."

"4704?" I rack my brains. There are thousands - at least 4,704, in fact - of incompletely studied anomalies out there, but some are better known than others. "Isn't that the completely dead zone out towards -"

"Not any more," Stroffa says dryly. "We need a science vessel to make detailed observations. And, since we know so little about that anomaly, and we have no idea who or what has caused it to change, that science vessel had better be prepared for anything. The Madagascar's somewhat extensive capabilities would seem to fit the bill."

"Yes, sir. I'll make immediate preparations for departure."

"Please do. I am transmitting the requisite information on your data subchannel now. General Rrueo, I regret that it may be necessary to cut your visit short -"

"Rrueo will find ways to amuse herself. Thank you, Admiral." Rrueo throws Stroffa a sketchy salute.

"Thank you for your understanding and your cooperation," says Stroffa. "Admiral M'eioi, in light of the undetermined nature of the problem, you may find it worthwhile to request additional support from Tactical Division. Just as a precaution, you understand. I have cleared this through normal channels in advance."

"It's a sound idea, sir. Thank you." I salute again.

"I will await your report with interest. Good luck, Admiral. Stroffa out." The huge screen goes blank. I hope Rrueo hasn't noticed the scuff marks.

Rrueo licks her fangs. "Well. Some people have all the luck, it seems. M'eioi is to investigate a new phenomenon at the frontier of space, while Rrueo cools her heels in the KDF legation. Never mind. Rrueo has a plan already. That rather handsome young ensign who is on duty outside Quinn's office... Rrueo has often wondered if it is true what they say, about unmodified Caitian males...."

"Oh, come on," I protest. "Ensign Rraak? He just wants a quiet life!"

"Then Rrueo suspects he has chosen the wrong profession, and the wrong workplace, and possibly the wrong century to be born into. But do not fear, Rrueo will treat him gently." She gives me an airy wave, and saunters off down the walkway. "Good fortune attend you on your mission. Rrueo hopes your banners will continue to wave bravely."

And, with that, she is gone. Commander Joaj is already at my elbow with a PADD full of requirements: the little engineer squints up at me, and her bristling antennae twitch. "What did she mean?" she asks. "About the banners, sir?"

"Oh." I take the PADD. "She's a telepath, and she has this habit of constructing... metaphors, I think she said... for the feel of people's minds. Apparently, my mind is like an army with banners. So she says."

"I see." Joaj peers at Rrueo's retreating form in the distance. She scratches her head, producing an alarming noise from her bark-like skin. "Flattering, I guess."

"I suppose so." I look at the PADD. "Better get moving. And get me a channel to the bureaucrats. I think a backup from Tac Division might come in handy. Let's see who they've got available."