SINGULARITY 09
By Heck



Comments to heck@heckster.co.uk

CHAPTER NINE

DOCTOR BEVERLEY CRUSHER checked her monitors for the tenth time in as many
minutes, and shook her head. "I can't understand it. This just shouldn't be
happening".

The patient on the bio-bed lay deathly still, in a deep coma. On the side of
her neck, a livid red lesion, tinged with yellow and blue, spread from beneath
her ear to the angle of her shoulder. Twenty-fourth century medication flooded
her bloodstream, fighting the raging infection while beads of cold sweat
gathered on her pale face.

At the doctor's side Worf looked on, concern etched on every line of his
craggy face. He had been at the bedside since Brenhya had been brought here,
following her collapse at the end of the battle with the Borg. Even in a coma;
even lying here helpless like this, the big Klingon thought she was
magnificent. Her body lay limp and flaccid, but even so the shape and fullness
of her musculature remained evident. She was, he thought, an image of sleeping
power.

Once she had destroyed the last distribution node, effectively demolishing the
invaders' ability to fight, it had been simply a matter of mopping up for the
crew of the Enterprise. The hostages imprisoned in Ten Forward had played
their part, and teams were currently scoring the ship, removing every last
trace of Borg technology from their beloved vessel. Chief Engineer LaForge and
his team were hard at work in engineering, restoring the ship's systems to
their former state. He expected to have everything, including shields and
weapons, up and running within the day.

Outside in the cold blackness, the ominous cube hung lifeless in space,
drifting like a dead shark.

"What should not be happening?" Worf's rumbling voice was subdued. He had not
actually refused to move from Brenhya's side, but Captain Picard had
judiciously decided not to attempt to deploy him elsewhere.

"This". Beverley sighed as she combed her tired fingers through her coppery
hair. "She shouldn't be lying here in a coma. The Borg nanoprobes should've
started assimilating her hours ago. She should be an almost complete drone, by
now. Yet she's in a coma, with a soaring pyrexia. I don't understand it".

"Will she die?" The Klingon spoke matter-of-factly, and an observer would have
detected no emotion in his voice. But Beverley knew him well, and could hear
the tension and anxiety in his words. She laid a comforting hand on his arm.
"I don't know".

Worf let out a deep sigh. "This will not be an honourable death for such a
warrior. She will be denied entry to Sto Vokor".

"Or whatever her equivalent is". Crusher snorted in exasperation. "This
reaction is totally different from anything I would have expected. I am trying
to control the infection with medication, but it's effect is limited because
of the difference in her molecular resonance. The active ingredients cannot
interact with her biology .... Worf!" She grabbed the Klingon by the shoulders
and smiled up into his face. "That's it!"

Worf looked puzzled. People did not often touch him unbidden. "What is?"

"Molecular resonance!" The Doctor's excitement was obvious. "The nanoprobes
have the same molecular resonance as our universe, our reality. They can't
assimilate her, because she's from a different reality. Her body is rejecting
them! Worf, that explains the pyrexia, the coma, everything!"

"Hmm. Does that mean she will not die?"

Beverley's enthusiasm died in an instant. "I still can't say. Rejection
syndrome is something that we haven't come across in decades, centuries, even.
It was common when transplantation of tissue to replace damaged organs was
used. Back in the days before replicator and transporter technology". Her
hands rested on her hips, and she suddenly seemed acutely interested in a spot
by her feet. "I have to research this. I need to revise my whole approach" She
spun on her heel and strode toward her office. "Stay with her, Worf".

Worf stood gazing down at the beautiful, peaceful face on the pillow. His big
hand closed about hers, as if he could imbue her with his own strength, and
his gaze turned upwards.

"Perhaps you will reach Sto Vokor".

Jean-Luc Picard ended his latest entry and shut down his log. He rose from his
desk, tugging down the hem of his jacket, and strode from his Ready Room onto
the bridge.

The words "hive of activity" could have been coined precisely to describe the
scene that greeted the Captain. Commander Riker leaned over Data's shoulder as
they pored over several computer screens. Geordi LaForge lay on his back under
a console, completing the last few connections to restore bridge functions.
Other bridge officers were hard at work, bringing systems back on line and
clearing away the Borg artefacts, carefully labelling and boxing them all up
for later analysis. Among them all, Counsellor Deanna Troi moved serenely,
offering encouragement here, support there, while checking off various tasks
on the padd in her hand.

"Report". Picard took his seat in the command chair, looking expectantly at
his First Officer.

"Good morning, Captain". Riker turned away from the console and stood before
his superior. "All non-federation technology has been stripped out, and all
main systems are on line. We're working now to bring the ancillary systems up.
Normal function and efficiency should be restored within the hour. The Borg
artefacts have been stored in cargo bay four".

"Very good, Number One. Mr Data, how long will it take us to get back to
Stochablia three?"

"Approximately five hours twenty six point eight minutes at Warp six, Sir."

"Lay in a course and prepare to engage in one hour".

"Aye, Sir".

Picard tapped his comm badge. "Picard to Sick Bay. Doctor Crusher, how is our
guest doing?"

"Why don't you come on down". Crusher's voice sounded calm and gave nothing
away. "See for yourself".

Picard looked around and saw that everything was under control. There was no
pressing reason for his presence on the bridge. "I will do just that. Number
One, you have the bridge. Counsellor, would you like to accompany me?"

She came to slowly. Her first sensation was a dull, throbbing headache and a
feeling of lightness in all her limbs. She opened her eyes just a crack, and
the light seared her retinas, sending a knife of pain through her head. She
quickly shut them again. One of her hands seemed to be restrained, so she
lifted the other to her brow with a tiny groan.

"Doctor!" Worf's voice crashed into her brain. Her brows knitted and she held
up her hand to silence him.

"What is it, Worf?" Beverley's voice was much calmer and, from Brenhya's
viewpoint, much less painful. She risked opening an eye again, screening the
light through her fingers.

Beverley reached the bedside in seconds. "Well, hello", she smiled. "How're
you feeling?"

"Weak as a kitten". Brenhya tried a smile, but it did not sit well with her
furrowed brow. "And someone is playing hell inside my head".

"I can fix that". The Doctor reached for an instrument, which she held by her
patient's temple. There was a gentle hum and a soft rosy glow. Brenhya's
headache eased almost instantly, and was completely gone in under two minutes.
"How's that?"

"Mm. Much better. Can I get up, yet?"

Beverley checked her monitors. "Well, everything seems to be returning to
normal, but you're still running a bit of a temperature. I'd be happier if you
stayed in bed, at least for the rest of the day".

"I won't fight you". Brenhya gave a feeble smile. "I still feel very weak. I'm
not used to that". She looked up at the scowling face of Worf, still standing
over her, still holding her hand. "How long?"

"Thirty six hours".

"Have you been standing there all that time?" Worf nodded his big head, and
she squeezed his hand in appreciation. "I take it that we beat the Borgers?"

"We did. They were beaten as soon as you destroyed the final distribution
node".

"Good. And the Captain? Will Riker? Data? All the rest?"

"They all survived. But we lost five good crewmen in the battle. Plus, about
one hundred seventy that were assimilated by the Borg"

A fleeting pained look crossed Brenhya's beautiful face. "That's a shame. I
like your Star Fleet. You're good people".

The door swished open. Picard walked in, with Deanna Troi hard on his heels, a
wide smile of relief on her face. "Hi, Brenhya", she said. "I'm glad you made
it back to us".

"Hello, Deanna. Captain".

Hands clasped before him, Picard smiled down at her. "Brenhya. I'm pleased to
see you're recovering". He looked at each of his officers in turn. "Could you
give us a few minutes?"

Beverley shepherded Worf and Deanna into her office. "Only a few minutes,
mind, Jean-Luc. She may look better, but she still needs more rest".

Jean-Luc nodded his agreement. When they were finally alone, he pulled up a
chair and sat at Brenhya's bedside. "I get the feeling", he began, "that
public displays of gratitude would not sit well with you. You might feel
uncomfortable with that". He grinned as she rolled her eyes. "I thought so. So
I thought I'd take this time we have alone to express my thanks and those of
the entire crew. No", he said as Brenhya waved a dismissive hand. "Don't
belittle your achievement. We may have beaten them without you, but your help
ensured our victory. I don't suppose you know much about the Borg, but I can
tell you that if we hadn't stopped them here, they would have gone on to
assimilate the entire population of the planet we were orbiting. And from
there they may have gone on to assimilate the entire sector, and perhaps the
whole quadrant". His face became stern as he contemplated the import of what
he had just said. "So you see, we have a lot to thank you for".

Brenhya gave him a small smile. Her mouth silently formed the words "thank
you". Picard stood. "And now, I'll leave you to get some sleep. Speedy
recovery, Brenhya".

Will Riker gazed at the dark cube on the viewscreen. The Borg were defeated,
the cube was derelict and lifeless, yet it somehow managed to be a sinister
and foreboding presence. As he watched, he felt as if a cold hand was gripping
his heart. He tore his eyes from the screen as the doors of the turbolift
hissed open.

Followed by Deanna, and Worf who, now that she was out of danger, had torn
himself from Brenhya's side to resume his duties, Jean-Luc Picard moved down
the ramp to join his exec. Deanna took her seat, while the Klingon peeled off
to take up his post at Ops.

"Number One", the Captain greeted Riker. "Is everything ready?"

"Aye, Sir. All systems at maximum".

"Very good". He took his seat with a brief glance at the functions monitor in
the arm of his chair. "Mr Data, have we retrieved all the information and
specimens we need from the cube?"

The android rose from his seat and turned to face his Captain. "Yes, Sir.
There was very little to learn that we have not gained from previous
encounters. But Lieutenant Commander LaForge and I have stripped it of
anything that may be useful, for analysis later".

"Thank you. Then we have no further use for it", Picard said dismissively. "Mr
Worf.".

"Captain". Worf had anticipated Picard. "Phasers locked and ready".

Picard gave a grim smile. "Then dispose of the garbage, Lieutenant. Make it
so".

Worf touched a panel. On the upper surface of the Enterprise's saucer section,
two surges of power sped around the phaser channels and coalesced into a
sustained coherent beam that speared the heart of the unprotected Borg vessel
with pinpoint accuracy. Within seconds, the shielding around the cube's
antimatter reactor core was breached, triggering a cataclysmic chain reaction.
The cube blew apart in an incandescent pyrotechnic display, as matter and
antimatter totally annihilated themselves.

A drifting cloud of cosmic dust was all that remained.

Worf gave a grunt of satisfaction as the cloud dissipated. All over the bridge
the atmosphere lightened, and a barely audible collective sigh went up as the
oppressive presence disappeared.

"Mr Data, is our course laid in?"

"Yes, Sir".

"Engage".

Under Data's skilful hands, the great ship leapt forward into the blackness in
a streak of light. Picard got to his feet.

"Mr Worf, will you lay in a subspace call to Commander Hucker with the contact
team on Stochablia Three?"

"Aye, Sir".

"Patch it through to my Ready Room when ready".

Four days later, Picard was walking down the corridor on Deck Eight. The
Stochablians' first warp flight had gone perfectly and the three man crew of
the vessel, primitive by Starfleet standards, had been amazed and delighted to
find the magnificent Starship waiting to greet them on their return.

Picard had held a reception for the pilot and his men while, simultaneously on
the planet below, Amanda Hucker and her team had made themselves known to the
planetary government. The indigenous people were a peaceful and open-minded
species, and the reaction had been all that they could have hoped for. As a
result, negotiations for Federation membership had already begun and were
progressing well.

And now, the Enterprise was freed from her duties in the sector and could
proceed on her exploration of deep space. Picard always felt a tinge of regret
on such occasions, that he was unable to follow through these fascinating
first contact situations through in person. But in his heart, he knew he was
happiest when his ship was speeding towards her next encounter. The lure of
the unknown.

But they had one last duty to perform before leaving the sector. He stopped
outside the guest quarters and touched the panel, activating the chime.

"Come in". Brenhya's mellow contralto sounded from within, and the door slid
open. The Captain entered, and shook his head in wonder.

In the centre of the room, Brenhya was exercising. Again. Balanced on her
hands, feet high in the air, she pumped out vertical push-ups with controlled
speed and in strict form, touching her forehead to the carpet on every
repetition.

"With you in just a minute". Her voice was even and unstrained. "Nearly
finished".

Picard leaned against the door jamb with a smile. "Please. Take your time".

Brenhya pressed out the last few repetitions. Moving her hands apart slightly,
she bought her body, ramrod straight and legs apart, slowly down until it was
parallel with the floor, and held the position rock steady for many seconds.
It was a stupendous feat for such a tall person, and Picard's breath hissed
through his teeth as he contemplated the almost unimaginable strength required
for this manoeuvre.

Brenhya raised her sculpted legs back to the vertical, and came to her feet in
a controlled cartwheel. Her skin glowed with exertion, but she was not at all
out of breath. She flexed a round bicep and tested it's steely hardness with a
probing finger.

"Not bad", she admitted. "Feels good to be nearly back in shape again".

"It's good to see you up and about", Picard said. "I take it you're back to
full fitness again?"

"Close. What can I do for you, Jean-Luc?"

"Good news. We're just about ready to send you home. Many of the alterations
Mr LaForge made before the Borg occupation have had to be redone. But he
reports that they're all done, so we can go ahead. We propose to send you home
tomorrow".

The woman's face was serious. "Beverley tells me I won't remember any of
this". She said with a sigh.

"That's true. We will wipe the memory of the last few days from your mind.
Beverley will perform the technique just before we send you back into the
singularity. Your memories will begin to fade almost immediately. You do
understand why this must be so?"

"Yes. Your Prime Directive forbids you to interfere in the development of any
less advanced people. And any memories I take back from here might have an
influence when I get home. I could effect the natural development of my
reality, or something". She sat at the dresser and began to brush out her long
chestnut tresses. Even Picard, a man whose taste in women did not usually
extend to strong or athletic females, was forced to admit that she was a most
outstanding example of feminine beauty. He admired the play of muscle in her
arms as her bicep rolled into a hard ball with each stroke.

"I understand why it must be done", Brenhya went on. "But it'll be a shame to
lose all this. It's been a wonderful experience for me, being here and meeting
you all. But I won't even be able to miss you, if I won't remember anything".

"I know", Picard sympathised. "But rest assured, we will never forget you. And
we'll miss you".

"Thank you, Jean-Luc". Brenhya treated him to one of her most radiant smiles.
"I needed to hear that".

"You are most welcome". The man returned her smile. "And now, I must get about
my duties. But before I go, I want to invite you to a little party we are
holding tonight in Ten Forward, in your honour. We thought it would be
appropriate to give you a send off, and show you how much we've enjoyed your
company".

"Why, thank you. I'd be delighted".

"Excellent. Counsellor Troi will call you later today with the arrangements. I
look forward to seeing you this evening."

All of the senior staff and most of the off-duty crew had gathered in the
recreational lounge known affectionately as Ten Forward. Picard, Riker,
Crusher, Data, LaForge and Worf sat around a table, all in number one dress
uniform, awaiting the arrival of their guest of honour. Guinan approached them
with a tray.

"A bottle of Stochablian honey wine", she announced. "Left as a gift from our
recent guests". She placed the ornate bottle and five glasses on the table,
and a tumbler of dark liquid in front of Worf. "And for the stern-faced
Lieutenant, a glass of finest prune juice".

Worf scowled his thanks. Geordi spoke up.

"Yeah, c'mon, Worf. Lighten up".

"She should be here by now", the Klingon growled.

"Patience, Mr Worf", Picard advised. "Counsellor Troi is bringing her. They'll
be here very soon".

"I think our Klingon friend isn't upset because she isn't here yet", Guinan
put in. "But because she'll be gone forever tomorrow".

"Yep. That'll be it", Riker grinned, adding fuel to his subordinate's
discomfort. "But here they come now". A stunned silence fell across the bar as
Deanna Troi entered with Brenhya on her heels.

Deanna had worked with Brenhya all afternoon to find a suitable outfit for the
party. The warrior had protested that her usual soft leather garb would
suffice, but Troi would have none of it. It had been hard to improve on
near-perfection, but several hours with an electronic style catalogue and the
replicator had produced a result that even Brenhya had to admit was worth the
effort.

The two women had finally decided upon a delicate blue dress in a soft, clingy
fabric that showed her bare muscular arms and wide shoulders to their best
advantage and cascaded to the floor in liquid waves. Yet despite the fact that
it entirely covered them, the dress paradoxically enhanced, rather than
concealed, the flowing, powerful curves of her thighs and seat.

Her gorgeous auburn hair, brushed until it shone like burnished gold, had been
left loose and hung in chestnut waves about her splendid shoulders. A plain
black velvet choker adorned the smooth column of her neck, and the judicious
application of the merest hint of make up made her already beautiful face glow
with radiance.

As a finishing touch, Deanna had insisted that Brenhya wear a pair of strappy
sandals with five inch heels. It had taken the warrior a while to master
walking in them without twisting her ankles, but her natural grace had finally
prevailed.

With her height increased to close to seven feet, that alone would have been
sufficient to stop any man dead in his tracks. Combined with the ensemble
Deanna had put together, she was mind-numbingly lovely.

A collective intake of breath was heard, as men and women alike realised they
had been holding their breath. Spontaneous applause broke out, partly in
gratitude for her assistance in saving the ship from the Borg, but mostly in
appreciation of her terrific beauty, as she made her stately way, with
well-hidden self consciousness, to the table where her friends waited. Picard
led the men in rising to their feet.

"Good evening, Brenhya". He had to look up to meet her eyes, despite the fact
that the table was on a slightly raised platform. "You look radiant this
evening. Please take a seat".

She stepped on to the platform, towering over them all, and seated herself
next to Worf. He gave her one of his snarling smiles as he sat down and poured
her a glass of wine.

"Well, what do you think?" Deanna smiled as she sat next to Riker. "Good job,
or what?"

"Amazing", LaForge said.

"Very beautiful", Beverley commented. "But then, you had great material to
work with".

"Most aesthetically pleasing", said Data with his usual understatement.

For once, Will Riker was lost for words.

"She is magnificent", was all Worf wanted, or needed, to say.

Brenyha reached under the table and gave the Klingon's knee an unexpected
mischievous squeeze. "Thank you all. I've made so many good friends here, I'll
be sorry to leave".

Worf turned to face her. There was a trace of urgency in his voice. "Then do
not. Stay with us".

A frown began to form on Picard's face, but Brenhya pre-empted him. "It'd be
nice. But you know I can't, Worf. There's no place for me in your time. Or in
your reality. I'd be out of my depth in no time. Besides, there are people who
depend on me, back where I live. And, as Data says, if I don't go back, I may
alter the cloth of the spacetime continuation".

"Fabric", Data put in. "It is the fabric of the space and time continuum".

"There, you see? I got that wrong, and he must have told me half a dozen
times. No, Worf. Much as I'd like to, I can't stay. So let's just enjoy the
evening, and what time together we have left. OK?"

The Klingon nodded his big head. He was obviously unhappy about it, but was
warrior enough to accept the inevitable.

Conversation and light hearted banter continued for some time. Picard excused
himself early, knowing that his continued presence would have a restraining
effect on the evening. Riker had regaled them with a string of anecdotes and
near-the-knuckle jokes that kept the laughter going, and Brenhya felt warm
inside from several glasses of the delicious wine. At some stage, Geordi had
suggested a game of cards, and he, Riker, Beverley and Worf had adjourned to a
nearby table to play. Data remained with the women.

With the men absent, and for some reason they tended to open up in front of
Data more than with the other males, the women gossiped happily about female
things. Guinan joined them, and soon the room was ringing to shrieks of
feminine laughter as the conversation became more and more outrageous.

Before long, Brenhya noticed Data staring at her in a curious, detached sort
of way. He appeared to be watching her arms, and in particular the movement of
the muscles in her forearms as she played with her hair or lifted her glass.
Never being one to sit and wonder, she confronted him.

"What's wrong, Data? Why are you staring?"

"I am sorry. Was I making you uncomfortable?"

"No. I just wondered".

"Yes, come on Data". Deanna was feeling the effect of the wine. "What's your
problem".

"I have no problem, Counsellor. I was observing our guest's movements, and
wondering about something. Brenhya, may I ask you a question?"

"Ask away".

"I am curious. You are obviously a tall and powerful woman. Yet you appear to
be considerably stronger than other humans I have encountered, of either
gender. Even those of comparable stature with yourself. I understand you are
even stronger than Lieutenant Worf. Is that correct?"

"A little", Brenhya admitted. "What's your point?"

"It is simply that I wondered how this could be? Do you have a theory?"

"I don't know". Brenhya noticed that the other two women were taking a deep
interest in this conversation. "It's not something I ever think about", she
continued. "It just is. It's a fact of my life, and I don't go around
wondering why I'm stronger than others. I just am".

"But if you had to think about it ...?" This from Deanna Troi.

"If I had to think about it, I'd have to say it's down to my parents. They
were both very strong. Then I had a year's training with a professional
strongwoman. And of course all the daily training I've done since, both within
my Sisterhood and on my own. That'd have to be it".

"A combination of nature and nurture", Guinan added.

"That would explain it", Data said in his detached, scientific way. "Could you
estimate just how strong you are?"

"Again, I don't know". A combination of the wine and her warrior's instincts
were beginning to make Brenhya rise to a challenge. "But why don't we find
out? You're the strongest person on the ship". There was no trace of sarcasm
in her voice, this time. She had seen what Data could do. She placed her elbow
on the table in front of him. "Why don't we have at it? You and me. Right
now".

"Ah. The contest your culture calls Indian Wrestling. Or armwrestling. It
would be interesting. But you could not hope to win". There was no bravado in
his voice. He was stating a fact.

"Perhaps not. But at least your curiosity would be satisfied".

"Yeah, what do you say, Data?" Deanna was not drunk, nor anywhere near it. But
she chose to let herself be carried along in the moment. "Put your muscle
where your mouth is".

"Very well. I will strive not to hurt you".

The two locked hands. The light of combat was in Brenhya's bright eyes. Data's
face was impassive, as usual. Guinan was intrigued by the contest, while
Deanna watched intently.

"All right", Guinan said. "If we're going to do this, I'm going to be the
referee. Ready? On my three count ...."

"Wait, wait!" Deanna butted in. "Is it one, two, and go on three, or one, two,
three, then go?"

"We go on three", Guinan explained. "Now. Ready? One ...two ...three!"

The great muscles of Brenhya's bare arms sprang into deep relief as she poured
on the power. Her teeth showed and her eyes blazed with the adrenalin of
combat. A highly competitive person by nature, she threw all she had into the
contest, even though she knew there was little chance of success.

Data showed none of the surprise he would have felt had he been capable of
emotion. The amount of power she threw against his arm was shocking. His
servos were being taxed, and his bio-mechanical hydraulics pumped fluid to
compensate.

Brenhya gritted her teeth and squeezed yet more strength out of her superb
musculature. Her fingers closed even tighter around Data's hand. At this
point, she would normally have expected to hear knuckle bones crunching under
her grip but, of course, Data's titanium skeleton withstood the pressure.

The others had abandoned their card game and gathered round to watch, cheering
for their chosen champion. Worf came to stand quietly behind Brenhya, and
dropped a hand on her shoulder, giving a small squeeze of encouragement.

For several minutes, the two were locked in combat, neither giving or taking
an inch. It became obvious to Brenhya that she could not overcome the
mechanical strength of the android, but she was determined not to give in.
Beads of perspiration appeared on her brow, and she bared her teeth, giving
every last ounce of her phenomenal strength to the task.

She was rewarded by a small whirring noise as Data's servos whined in protest
at the prolonged stress under which they were being put.

With a suddenness that made her gasp, Data relaxed his pressure and removed
his hand from her grasp. "What're you doing? You could have won". She was
breathing heavily and a fine sheen of sweat covered her shoulders and arms,
but her face was a picture of disappointment.

"That was not the object of the exercise", Data replied. "The object was to
discover how strong you are. I now know. Thank you very much".

"Oh? Is that it, then?"

"Yes. Thank you. Although you could not have won, you have caused me to expend
an enormous amount of energy. My positronic circuits are still working to
quantify it. But you are without doubt the strongest human I have
encountered".

Brenhya pushed back her chair. "It's a bit of a relief, in a way. While your
posi-whatsits are doing ...whatever it is they do, I have to go and ...er ..."

"I'll come with you", Deanna said, as she got to her feet.

Riker watched the two retreating female backs. "Why do they always have to go
in pairs?" he wondered.

"Beats me", Geordi said. "But how about that, Data?" He fought hard to keep
the awe out of his voice. "She gave you a run for your money, eh?"

"No currency was involved", Data confirmed. "But if you are enquiring as to
the physical power of the young woman, I would have to agree?"

"So, then?" Beverley prompted. "You must have finished your calculations by
now. How strong is she?"

"Quite extraordinarily so, Doctor. While it is true to say that she could not
have prevailed against my bio-mechanical strength, I would have had some
difficulty in beating her. I have calculated the pressure between her palm and
mine. It was approximately one hundred and two point seven nine pounds ..."

"That's a lot", Riker interjected. "But it doesn't seem too much".

"You did not let me finish. I was about to say, 'per square centimetre' ".

Riker's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. Geordi let out a low whistle. Worf
gave a grunt and a small smirk of satisfaction.

"I am one impressed doctor", Beverley said. "That is astounding".

"Indeed, Doctor".

There was a pause while the officers gathered themselves. "All right", Riker
said at last. "On with the party!"

"Quite so, Commander. But if you could assist me for a moment, Geordi". Data's
next comment caused a couple of jaws to drop. "I appear to have burnt out two
servos".

Like a swirling, multicoloured light show, the singularity caught and held the
eyes of the personnel gathered in front of the viewscreen. Brenhya stood among
her new friends, awestruck by the phenomenon. The last time she had been on
the bridge, she had forced an entry through the ceiling to find a ring of
phaser rifles aimed at her head.

This time, however, she was surrounded by people that both trusted and admired
her. She tore her eyes from the screen to glance at her companions. On her
left, Worf stood very close, his right pinky surreptitiously linked with her
right. She wished they had more time to explore each other more thoroughly.
She could have become very serious about the dark Klingon.

On her right, the senior staff stood in a line, watching the screen with
varying emotions. She looked down on the bald head of Jean-Luc Picard, on a
level with her shoulder. She had been impressed beyond measure with the
command abilities of this man. He was at once an authoritarian and a father
figure to his crew, leading his people with both wisdom and affection, and she
seriously admired him.

Beyond the Captain stood Beverley Crusher, Will Riker, and Deanna Troi. She
had not grown to know Riket all that well, but Beverley had become a firm
friend and Deanna, Deanna who had introduced her to the delights of chocolate,
was closer to her, in different ways, than even Worf.

Data and Geordi LaForge, both unique individuals who dealt with their personal
challenges in very different but equally effective ways, were standing at the
engineering station, performing the last minute adjustments for the procedure
that would send her home.

She felt a pang of regret that she would not remember these wonderful people.

"All ready, Captain", LaForge reported.

"Thank you, Mr LaForge". Picard turned to Brenhya. "Time to go. Doctor Crusher
will take you to the transporter room and administer the memory wipe. Mr Worf,
would you like to escort our guest?"

"I would, Sir. Thank you".

"I want to thank you, Jean-Luc". Brenhya took his hand warmly. "If it hadn't
been for the Enterprise, I would've died out there. I owe you my life".

"A debt you have repaid many times over", Picard said. "Goodbye, Brenhya. It
has been a great pleasure and a rewarding experience to have known you".

She shook hands all round as she took her leave, and hugged Deanna Troi
fiercely. "Thank you for chocolate", she whispered in her ear.

"Don't mention it". Troi had a catch in her voice, and her eyes glistened
moistly.

With Worf and Crusher, Brenhya made her way to the ramp. A mischievous glint
came into her eye. She turned, ran back to Picard, took his face in her two
large hands, and kissed him soundly on the top of his bald pate before
trotting up the ramp and disappearing into the turbolift.

Once again, she had left the room speechless, although this time for an
entirely different reason. Data looked on curiously as the others desperately
tried to stifle their laughter and Picard looked confused, pleased, and
indignant all at the same time. He cleared his throat and tugged at his
jacket.

"All right, all right. Let's get on with it. Ready, Mr LaForge?"

Geordi pulled himself together, a latent smile still tugging at the corners of
his mouth. "Ready to initiate polarity reversal, Sir".

"Make it so".

The engineer tapped a sequence into his console. A cone of concentrated
inverted tachyons and chroniton particles lance from the emitter array,
piercing the heart of the singularity. The clockwise motion of the event
horizon began to slow and ease to a halt.

"It isn't reversing, Geordi", Riker observed.

"Give it a minute. Give it a minute".

A minute passed. Then another. The wormhole stood motionless in space. The
crew began to fidget nervously.

And after what seemed like an age but was in reality no more than five
minutes, the cloud of light began to shift. Shudderingly at first, then with
increasing smoothness, it began to rotate anti-clockwise, picking up speed
until it spun with the same velocity as previously.

"Yes!" Geordi muttered under his breath.

"Well done, Mr LaForge, Data". Picard tapped his com badge. "Doctor, we're
ready up here".

"Acknowledged, Captain. Administering memory wipe now. You may energise in
twenty seconds".

"Thank you, Doctor". Picard watched the chronometer count off the seconds.
"And ...Energise!"

On the pad three decks below, Brenhya was enveloped in the transporter effect,
and was gone. The subdued voice of Lieutenant Worf reported the fact to the
Captain.

"Confirm she entered the singularity at the optimum point, Sir", Data told
Picard.

"Is that it?" Riker asked. "Is she home?"

"We'll never know for sure", LaForge said. "There was always a chance that the
singularity would rip her apart. But I'm hopeful".

"The odds of success are approximately ...."

"Yes, thank you, Mr Data", Picard interrupted. "We may not know. But I, for
one, choose to believe that she returned home safely.

**********************************

EPILOGUE

In a clear, starlit sky above a grassy, secluded hillock, a swirling finger of
cloud and light retracted into the night and vanished into the black sky. At
the point where it had touched earth, a sleeping figure stirred.

Brenhya raised herself onto her elbows and shook her head. Slightly
disoriented, she glanced around to gain her bearings. A vein throbbed in her
temple, and her eyes were slightly unfocussed. She blinked several times,
clearing her vision, and rolled to her hands and knees.

The experience of the last few days was vivid in her memory. She recalled
perfectly the ship, and the people she had met. She remembered the wonderful
taste of a sweet confection, and the exotically beautiful woman who had
introduced it to her, and a wise and confident doctor with hair the colour of
her own. A mechanical man who never smiled, a man with a beard, and another
man with a strange attachment on his face. She recalled with affection a
captain whose personality was bigger than his stature.

But most of all, she remembered a big man with a ridged forehead, and the
memory brought a moistness to her loins.

She climbed to her feet and picked up her broadsword, remembering a pitched
battle with strange men who were half machine. As she buckled the scabbard
around her trim waist, she became aware that she had just awaken from a
strange dream. She stretched, her lithe muscles rippling under her golden,
smooth skin.

She began to walk down the hill toward the light of the campfire below. She
could hardly wait to tell her friends about the weird dream she had had. Very
strange, she thought. Full of odd folks and ships that flew.

Halfway down, she stopped and tried to gather her thoughts. She wanted to get
it right for when she told her companions. But for some reason, the details
wouldn't come to her. The whole dream became fuzzy and blurred in her memory.

She reached the bottom of the hill. That was a good sleep, she thought. But
it's funny how, when you have a really good dream, you can never remember it
when you wake up.

THE END

Copyright "Heck" 2001. All rights reserved.

**************************************

OK. That's my self-indulgence over with. Thanks for your patience. I'll get
back to the main concept, now. Watch for a new Brenhya saga soon.

Heck.