The Naked Wine
                                         by
                                     Robert Roy

                 The  four  of  us  stepped  onto  the  bridge  of   the
            Tsiolkovsky.  Actually,  we just entered  the holodeck,  but
            the program was a  simulation of the  U. S. S.  Tsiolkovsky,
            destroyed, and I programmed it so  that we appeared to  step
            out of the turbolift.
                 Although I programmed it myself, I still almost laughed
            when I saw the one feature of the Tsiolkovsky's bridge  that
            was not according to  specs: The card table.   It was  smack
            dab in the middle of the bridge, between the Captain's chair
            and the forward stations.  It was equipped with four chairs,
            a deck of cards  and all the  accouterments necessary for  a
            poker game,  including healthy  provisions of  chocolate,  a
            necessary extra.
                 "Nice touch."  Commander Elaine Naiman, the  recreation
            officer, told me,  and then joked,  "If this  is a  standard
            feature of science vessels, then I need a transfer."
                 As  I  was  sitting  down  in  one  of  the  chairs,  I
            commented, "I doubt it.  Besides, this is a dry ship."
                 Commander Naiman was about to sit  in the chair to  the
            left of  me, but  then turned  around, saying,  "I'm out  of
            here."
                 Doctor Bill Hedrick,  who took  the seat  to my  right,
            said, "Just  sit down,  Elaine.   You  know we  can't  drink
            during this experiment or it won't work."
                 I chimed in, saying,  "And if it  does work, you'll  be
            intoxicated soon enough."
                 "Oh,  well  that's  all  right  then."    Naiman  said,
            smiling, and sat down at the  table.  That was three of  the
            players.
                 I noticed  that  the  fourth  chair  was  still  empty.
            Instead of just calling the fourth, I stood up and walked up
            behind her.  Commander Charlotte Jerscheid, the head of  the
            Stellar  Cartography  department   and  the  Chief   Science
            officer, was standing  near the viewscreen,  looking out  at
            her handiwork.  "You do good work."  I told her.
                 "Don't you mean  we, Doctor?"   She  answered, "I  seem
            recall as I slaved over the details for this program that  a
            certain computer  scientist  was  there all  the  time  too,
            making sure that the holodeck was able to simulate all those
            details."
                 "I guess."  I said as she continued to look out at what
            appeared on the simulated viewscreen, seemingly entranced by
            its beauty.   An understandable reaction,  as far  as I  was
            concerned.   Pictured  was  a  star  in  its  death  throws.
            Violent eruptions scarred its  surface as huge solar  flares
            lashed out at the Tsiolkovsky, their tongues of fire seeking
            to taste its  watcher, the one  who was  intruding upon  its
            final moments.
                 Though wonderful in  beauty and  terrifying in  danger,
            the flares were more bark than bite.  The true power of this
            collapsing star was in its shifting gravity.  Not only  were
            they unpredictable, thus endangering  any nearby ships,  but
            they were capable  of altering  certain chemicals  in a  way
            that was never theorized.  It wasn't until Starfleet lost  a
            science team, on  planet Psi 2000,  and an entire  starship,
            the Tsiolkovsky, that the  full nature of these  alterations
            was revealed.
                 One of the most pronounced effects is a  transformation
            of simple water  molecules into an  alcohol like  substance.
            This creates an intoxicant that severely damages a  person's
            judgment and  motor  skills.   Additionally,  it  is  easily
            passed from  one  person to  the  next, merely  by  physical
            contact, and  sometimes  even  by  proximity.    It  can  be
            absorbed through the skin, imbibed  or inhaled, and once  it
            is released into a population, it is extremely difficult  to
            control its spread.  The results can be disastrous.
                 The crews of  the Enterprise and  the Tsiolkovsky  both
            found that out, and only the Enterprise survived to tell the
            tale.
                 "Are you two playing, or what?"   Naiman demanded.   In
            response Commander Jerscheid and I both broke our gaze  from
            the viewscreen and took our seats.
                 "How long will it take?"  Jerscheid wondered.
                 "No idea."  I replied.   "The real Tsiolkovsky was  out
            here a  months  before it  began  affecting the  crew.    We
            boosted the  time  factor, so  it  shouldn't be  that  long,
            perhaps hours, maybe a day at the most."
                 "And you're sure this is the only way?"  She appended.
                 I deferred to  Hedrick's expertise.   He simply  nodded
            yes in response.
                 Commander Naiman began dealing the cards.

                                      *   *   *

                 The intoxicating  effects of  the Psi  2000 virus  were
            quick to take effect.  At one point I noticed that my  poker
            winnings appeared to  consist of not  only poker chips,  but
            also  someone's  uniform  top.     Normally  I  would   have
            immediately  recognized  this  as  unusual,  given  that  we
            weren't playing  strip poker,  but I  found myself  somewhat
            distracted from play.
                 The scene playing itself out  on the viewscreen was  so
            magnificent that my eyes were  constantly drawn back to  it.
            I found myself  completely unable  to concentrate.   It  was
            fortunate for me that my companions were utterly intoxicated
            by this point, or it would  have been me losing my shirt  to
            the game.
                 From time to time I would drag my attention back to the
            bridge of the faux-Tsiolkovsky.  The others, I noticed, were
            so drenched in their own sweat,  that you think they  really
            were under the searing gaze of the sun that was depicted  on
            the viewscreen.    I  felt  a  poker  chip  deflect  off  my
            forehead.
                 "Are you playing or what?"  Demanded Commander  Naiman,
            as she subtly brought my attention back to the game.   "It's
            your bet."
                 "I call."  I answered out of habit.
                 My opponents laid out their cards, revealing that  none
            of them had anything, not even  a pair.  This was the  sixth
            hand in a row that they'd tried to bluff with nothing.  This
            so-called game was beginning to get tedious.  I was glad  to
            hear my  communicator's  beep,  followed  by  Moira's  voice
            ordering, "Dr. Roy, report to the main computer room."
                 "On my way." I responded.
                 As I was getting up, Dr. Hedrick complained, "Hey,  you
            can't leave the game now.  You  have to give us a chance  to
            win our money back."
                 "Take it."  I told him as I left the table.
                 As I exited  the holodeck,  I heard  Dr. Hedrick  yell,
            "Sourpuss!" After which they  all broke out into  hysterical
            laughter.  At least I think it was all of them.

                                      *   *   *

                 "So what's the deal?"  I asked into the thin air.
                 After several seconds, which under the circumstances is
            an  intolerable  delay,  Moira  responded  by  asking,  "You
            talking to me?"
                 I considered a sarcastic response, but decided to  just
            forget it.  "Why  did you call  me away from  the game?"   I
            asked, just as I was reaching  the turbolift.  I knew  there
            was no need  to tell  Moira where I  was going.   After  the
            turbolift  was  in  motion,  I  added,  "Not  that  I'm  not
            grateful."
                 "I  have  something  to  show  you."    Moira  answered
            mysteriously.
                 The turbolift  doors  opened  and I  stepped  into  the
            corridor, but it wasn't  the right corridor.   This was  the
            deck where  my quarters  were located,  and they're  nowhere
            near the computer room.  I explained this to Moira.
                 "I said,  'I  have  something to  show  you.'"    Moira
            repeated.
                 She was  up  to  something.   In  spite  of  my  better
            judgment, I  decided  I  might as  well  play  along,  so  I
            proceeded to my quarters.  Just as the door to my cabin came
            into view, I saw Lieutenant Young, one of the engineers  who
            had been part of my ill-fated  away team to DS6, coming  out
            of my quarters.   "Hey, what  were you doing  in there?"   I
            asked the engineer emphatically.
                 Young  simply   shrugged  and   walked  away,   saying,
            "Orders."  As if that would explain it all away.
                 "Moira?"  I inquired,  demanding an explanation of  the
            computer.
                 "Exactly."  Was the response I received.  The source of
            the explanation was not Moira, but Lieutenant Young, who had
            called the answer  back to me  over his shoulder.   I  still
            wasn't sure what was going on.
                 I decided to enter my quarters.  At least I'd find  out
            what was going on.  Whatever  it was, I was sure I  wouldn't
            like it when I found out.   In retrospect, I guess I  should
            have been pleasantly surprised, but given the situation  I'm
            sure I can be forgiven for not realizing that right away.
                 What I  did realize  immediately, is  that ugly  yellow
            lines covered every wall  in my quarters.   I'm not  talking
            about being simply ugly.  These lines where so out of  place
            that I could foresee not being  able to sleep in this  place
            ever again.
                 "Happy birthday!"  Yelled Moira, or more precisely that
            was what her holographic simulacrum yelled.  I could tell it
            was the  simulacrum because,  unlike her  normal voice  that
            appeared to  come  from  the  ceiling  and  wash  down,  her
            simulacrum's voice  seemed like  it came  from wherever  her
            holographic image was currently projected.  It took almost a
            month to fine-tune  the effect, but  now you'd almost  swear
            she was in the room with you when she talked.
                 I turned around to face her simulacrum.  I was still so
            upset about the "paint  job" that it didn't  occur to me  to
            correct her about my birthdate.   My next birthday  wouldn't
            be for about another month.   However, upon seeing her,  all
            thoughts of yellow lines and birthdays completely slipped my
            mind.
                 I could tell that she wasn't  on duty, because she  was
            not dressed, holographically speaking,  in her uniform.   In
            fact, depending on your definition of the word, you wouldn't
            necessarily say that she was dressed  at all.  That was,  of
            course,   atypical   behaviour   for   Moira's   holographic
            simulacrum, but to be colloquial, I hadn't seen nothin' yet.
                 I was  still  in a  state  of semi-shock  when  Moira's
            simulacrum walked  towards me, and then repeated, this  time
            more softly, "Happy birthday."  And then she leaned  forward
            and kissed me on the cheek.
                 And I felt her lips on my cheek.
                 I had to suppress  the urge slap  my forehead with  the
            palm of my hand as understanding finally made the  difficult
            journey to  my  brain.    She  turned  my  quarters  into  a
            miniature holodeck, and the yellow lines are for holographic
            reference points to coordinate the imaging systems with  the
            force field  projectors  that  enable  holodeck  objects  to
            appear to be real objects, even  to the point of being  able
            to touch, or be touched by, those objects.
                 The only remaining question was, "Why?"  Which is  what
            I asked Moira.
                 "It's a gift for  you."  She explained.   I could  tell
            that she was on the verge of a pout.  "I know you've  always
            wanted me, so I've made it possible."
                 Now  I  finally  had  the  whole  picture.    When  the
            Enterprise  was  infected  with  the  Psi-2000  virus,   the
            sentient, android  officer, Lieutenant  Commander Data,  was
            not immune to its effects.  Apparently neither was Moira.

                                      *   *   *

                 "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that."  I  told
            her.  Part of me, a rather large part in fact, really  meant
            it.
                 "Good."   Moira  replied,  still keeping  her  pout  in
            reserve.
                 The part  of  me  that was  glad  to  hear  of  Moira's
            intentions must have suddenly  decided to go vacationing  on
            Risa, or something, because the other  part of me, the  part
            that I now call the stupid part, blurted out, "And you  have
            no idea how much it pains me to turn you down."
                 I hadn't even  gotten the first  word out  of my  mouth
            before I started regretting what I was saying, but for  some
            reason I couldn't stop myself.  Once it was out, the  damage
            was done, and there was no way to retract it.  I could  have
            tried saying things like, "I respect you too much."  Or,  "I
            care for you too strongly  risk ruining our friendship  this
            way."  But  heartfelt or not,  all I'd succeed  in doing  is
            digging myself a deeper hole.
                 A quick glance  at Moira's  holodeck simulacrum's  face
            showed  that  there  were  really  no  options.    The  only
            reasonable course of action was to flee my own quarters  and
            hope I could find a safe place to hide out for a while.   On
            my way out  the door, I  grabbed my  Telecaster, the  guitar
            that I modified using the  technology from one of  Commander
            Jerscheid's roll-up pianos, and didn't look back.

                                      *   *   *

                 Wandering the  corridors  of  deck eight,  I  tried  to
            figure out where I could hang out until things blew over.  I
            considered Rhaegosh's, but that would have been too obvious.
            There is only  one place on  the Crazy Horse  where I  would
            have been truly safe  from Moira if she  was out to get  me,
            but I had the distinct feeling that if I'd have set foot  on
            deck eleven, I'd have been out an airlock in an instant.
                 I started noticing  some of the  other crew members  in
            the corridors.  Although  I was somewhat self-absorbed  with
            my problems, I couldn't help noticing that the percentage of
            naked crew members roaming the halls was markedly above  the
            norm.  On any other ship, even one such incidence of  nudity
            among the crew would be considered unusual, but this is  the
            Crazy Horse, after all.   Still, other than  my own, it  had
            been quite a while  since I had seen  a uniform that  wasn't
            lying in a pile on the floor.
                 I guessed  that,  since  Moira was  infected  with  the
            virus, anyone  coming in  contact with  her  or any  of  her
            terminals  would  become  infected.    The  whole  crew  was
            probably infected already.
                 As a  barometer of  Moira's mood,  I walked  up to  the
            nearest turbolift door a  waited a moment.   It only took  a
            second or two before the doors opened.  I suppose that was a
            good sign,  in  that  at least  Moira  wasn't  ignoring  me.
            However, the fact that the doors opened to a bare  turbolift
            shaft was decidedly negative.
                 I decided that my best bet  was to go to the one  place
            that Moira would  likely be  averse to  making her  presence
            known in the present circumstances.  I strapped my guitar to
            my back and started climbing up the nearest companionway.

                                      *   *   *

                 Seven  decks  later  I  reached  bridge  level.     The
            companionway  let  out  in  the  short  corridor  from   the
            conference room  to Commander  Marek's office.   Other  than
            Commander Marek, most people use  this corridor only to  get
            to the turbolift.  It provides access to the conference room
            without having to enter the bridge.
                 I decided to enter the conference room and sit down for
            a little while and catch my breath.   Not only did I need  a
            rest from my climb, but I had to come up with a good lie  to
            explain what I was doing on the bridge.
                 I decided to put my feet up on the conference table and
            play my guitar  for a  while.   As I  hacked away,  randomly
            soloing, I noticed  that the acoustics  of the room  weren't
            bad.  Sure it was no  fourth intersection of Jefferies  Tube
            25, but it wasn't bad.
                 When I felt my confidence level, if not my best excuse,
            was up  to  par, I  emerged  from the  conference  room  and
            entered the main bridge.  My reason for picking the  bridge,
            as opposed to anywhere  else on the  ship, stemmed from  the
            fact that  the  bridge  is  associated  with  work,  and  an
            intoxicated ship's computer would probably have little  time
            for work.  Apparently that reasoning held for more than just
            Moira, because the bridge was completely unoccupied.
                 Or so I thought.
                 Walking down the ramp towards the centre of the bridge,
            I noticed that the Captain's chair  was not unoccupied.   "I
            was wondering how long it would  take."  Stated the  Captain
            blandly, then turned towards me, and added, "I knew it would
            be you."
                 "What are you talking about?"  I asked.  I must admit I
            was genuinely confused by the Captain's comments.
                 "I know what you  want, and frankly  you can have  it."
            The Captain  told  me,  rising from  the  centre  seat,  and
            proceeding towards the turbolift.
                 "I still don't get it, Captain.  Where are you going?"
                 "Wouldn't you like to know."   Came the snide reply  to
            my question.  Then the Captain  explained, "Let me spell  it
            out for you,  since you're so  busy playing  innocent.   You
            came up here to  steal my command, and  I'm cheating you  of
            your prize  by giving  it to  you  voluntarily.   Have  fun,
            Doctor!"
                 And with that,  the Captain entered  the turbolift  and
            departed the bridge.

                                      *   *   *

                 Crazy Horse log,  stardate 47842.7,  Doctor Robert  Roy
            recording:  I don't get  it.  How do  I keep ending up  here
            when it's the last place I want to be?     I feel as if  I'm
            running on a treadmill that's been set a little too fast for
            me.  What worries me  is that the only  way to get off  this
            damned treadmill is to give up and stop running.

                                      *   *   *

                 "That beats my two pair."   Announced Dr. Hedrick.   He
            arose from his seat and began undoing his pants.
                 "Put your pants  back on."   Insisted Commander  Naiman
            without even bothering  to look  up.   In response,  Hedrick
            shrugged and then sat  back down.  He  may have even made  a
            rude gesture as he did so.
                 Commander Jerscheid added, "Bill, how many times do  we
            have to tell you?  This isn't strip poker."
                 "I know, but I'm really hot."  Hedrick replied.
                 "Is that  why  you've  lost  the  last  twenty  hands?"
            Remarked Naiman.  She had been noticing that after Dr. Roy's
            sudden departure, that both  hers and Commander  Jerscheid's
            luck seemed  to  have improved.    That or  their  play  was
            decidedly less chaotic.   Either way her  pile of chips  had
            grown immensely, which should have been pleasing to her.  It
            wasn't.  To Jerscheid, she asked, "Is it just me, or is this
            game a whole lot less fun than it was an hour ago."
                 Jerscheid was about to respond, but Hedrick cut her off
            with his own question, "Is it just me, or is it insufferably
            hot in here?"
                 "Now that you mention  it," Jerscheid responded, "I  do
            feel like  my  uniform has  been  welded to  this  chair  by
            perspiration.   Well that  would explain  it."   She  added,
            pointing at the image  of the star on  the viewscreen.   The
            solar   flare   activity   appeared   to   have    increased
            geometrically since they'd last noticed it.
                 "Geez, Charlotte!"  Naiman  exclaimed, "Could you  turn
            down the sun a bit?"
                 "I'm not  sure I  should."   Jerscheid answered,  "This
            program  is  pretty  complex.     I  wouldn't  like  to   be
            responsible for the consequences if I mess it up."
                 "It's only a simulation.  What harm could it do?"
                 Standing, and  performing a  Picard Maneuver  with  his
            undershirt, Hedrick  boldly  commanded,  "Computer,  reduced
            stellar heat level by twenty five percent."
                 "Hedrick, you idiot!"  Jerscheid yelled, mostly out  of
            surprise and instinct, when what  she should have said  was,
            "Computer, belay that order."
                 Too late.
                 The suddenly too  cool star collapsed  in upon  itself,
            forming an ultra dense shell  that was quickly shattered  by
            the shock wave  that was triggered  by the  collapse.   Huge
            fragments of neutronium were ejected in all directions  from
            the star.
                 "Collision  warning."    Announced  the   Tsiolkovsky's
            computer, "Impending bridge collision.   Please abandon  the
            bridge in an orderly fashion."
                 After a moment's hesitation, the three officers made  a
            mad dash  for the  turbolift.  Commander Jerscheid,  out  of
            habit, made sure to grab her  roll-up piano.  The  turbolift
            doors resisted opening until the very last second, at  which
            point, the officers dove off the bridge of the  Tsiolkovsky,
            and out into a corridor of the Crazy Horse.
                 Laughing like an imbecile, Hedrick remarked, "You know,
            it was only a simulation."
                 The other two officers did not appear amused.
                 "By the way,  Charlotte, nice fashion  sense."   Naiman
            said grinning as  she noticed the  other woman's outfit  for
            the first time.
                 Commander Jerscheid took a moment to take stock of  her
            appearance.  Despite  the ordeal of  the excessive heat  and
            the narrow escape from the simulated Tsiolkovsky, her outfit
            wasn't in too bad shape.  However somehow, between the  time
            she entered  the holodeck  and the  time  she left  it,  her
            uniform top had changed  from its usual  teal colour to  its
            present mustard hue.  "What the?"  She wondered.
                 "It's probably Dr. Roy's."  Mentioned Hedrick.
                 Thinking  about  it,  Commander  Naiman  came  to   the
            conclusion, "I think he  was the first  one to start  acting
            strangely, and was probably the first one infected with Psi-
            2000."
                 "That's right."  Agreed Jerscheid, "He was  complaining
            about the heat almost immediately.  He took off his pullover
            to cool down."
                 "I guess at some point you  thought it would be a  neat
            idea to wear his top instead of your own."
                 "Which begs the question, 'Where did I leave mine?'"
                 "Probably on the holodeck."  Hedrick suggested.  He was
            starting to look far less intoxicated.
                 Commander  Jerscheid  approached  the  holodeck   door,
            saying, "Computer, resume  program."  But  was greeted by  a
            flashing message on  the holodeck control  panel that  said,
            "This holodeck is  currently in use.   Security lockout  has
            been engaged.  I apologize  for any inconvenience.   Signed,
            Lieutenant Commander Moira 2."
                 "Great."  Responded Jerscheid,  and then directing  her
            voice towards the  ceiling, "Moira, what's  going on?"   She
            received no reply.
                 Doctor  Hedrick  attempted   to  access  the   computer
            controls with the holodeck control panel.  "All I'm  getting
            is a lot of  random information.   Low level system  queries
            are okay, but  Moira responds  to anything  high level  with
            gibberish."
                 "Could she  have been  affected by  Psi-2000?"   Naiman
            proposed.
                 "It's possible,"  answered Hedrick,  "But I'm  not  the
            person to ask."
                 "Can you locate Dr. Roy?"  Asked Jerscheid.
                 "Charlotte,  you're  wearing  his  combadge."    Naiman
            informed her.
                 "That's okay," Hedrick  stated, "As long  as I can  tie
            the medical systems into communications, I should be able to
            find him using internal -- Got him.  He's on the bridge."
                 "Are you sure that  thing's working?"  Jerscheid  asked
            incredulously, "Dr. Roy on the bridge?"
                 "That's what it says,  and he's alone.   Maybe if  he's
            still affected by the virus, he's acting out of character."
                 "Speaking of which,"   Naiman interrupted, "Why  aren't
            we still intoxicated?  None of us have taken the remedy."
                 "I think it's a case of  drinking ourselves sober.   It
            happens occasionally with some people, that they consume  so
            much alcohol that, after a  certain point, the blood  stream
            cannot absorb any more.  The effect is to allow the  drinker
            to sober up even though they are still drinking.  I  suspect
            it's rather more common with Psi-2000."
                 "Of course  if Dr.  Roy was  the first  one  affected,"
            suggested Jerscheid, "Then  he may  have been  the first  to
            sober up.   He might  have gone to  the bridge  out of  some
            sense of guilt or honour."
                 "I think we'd better get  up there."  Commander  Naiman
            decided, "He's  a nice  enough guy,  but  he really  has  no
            business in charge of a starship."
                 "Agreed."  Stated Hedrick and Jerscheid in near unison.

                                      *   *   *

                 Crazy Horse log,  supplemental:  Why  am I still  here?
            Everyone else  on this  ship has  had  the common  sense  to
            abandon their posts, and  abandon themselves to the  moment.
            A ship  full of  people having  a wonderful  time  indulging
            their wildest fantasies, and  I can't join  them.  Worse,  I
            could join them, but the one thing stopping me is me.
                 Is she really worth  it?  Is she  worth the torment  of
            being a perpetual outsider?

                                      *   *   *

                 Doctor Robert  Roy, personal  log:  I can't  believe  I
            recorded that last bit as an official log.  I must  remember
            to delete that at the first opportunity.

                                      *   *   *

                 Out of breath,  Naiman, Jerscheid  and Hedrick  entered
            the conference room.   It had  been a long  climb from  deck
            ten.  As Jerscheid stumbled into  a chair, she commented  to
            Hedrick, "I  thought you  said the  low level  systems  were
            still intact."
                 "Most of  them were,"  slumping down  against the  wall
            next the door, Hedrick replied, "But not the turbolifts, for
            some reason.  Maybe Moira had a good reason for taking  them
            off-line."
                 Commander Naiman wandered over  to the conference  room
            table, hopped up onto it, and stretched out as if to take  a
            nap.
                 "Don't get too comfy."   Jerscheid advised the  others,
            "We did come up here for a reason."
                 Naiman replied, "You may be used to climbing around all
            over the ship, Charlotte, but we're not.  I can't speak  for
            Doctor Hedrick, but  I'm not  going another  step without  a
            good, long rest."
                 "Amen to that."  Hedrick echoed.
                 "I suppose we can rest for a little while."   Jerscheid
            relented.  She relaxed, closing her eyes, and leaned back in
            her chair.   No sooner had  her eyes closed  that she  began
            hearing something.  "Do you hear that, Elaine?"  She asked.
                 "What?"
                 "It sounds like music of some kind."
                 Naiman shrugged,  and then  remembering that  Jerscheid
            probably couldn't see  that gesture from  her position,  she
            answered, "Nope."
                 Jerscheid made a brief attempt to put the sound out  of
            her mind, but it  nagged at her and  she soon realized  that
            she had to  know what it  was.  Clearing  her mind, she  was
            able to determine that he sound was coming from the  general
            area of the bridge.  Getting out of her chair, she  followed
            the music back to its source.

                                      *   *   *

                 Walking onto the  bridge, Commander  Jerscheid saw  Dr.
            Roy sitting alone in the Captain's chair.  He was  strumming
            alone on his self-amplified Telecaster.  It was a tune  that
            Charlotte didn't recognize.
                 And the he began to sing:

                    The Rain falling like the tears on my pillow.
                    Lightning flashes, my only light.
                    Sky as dark as the depths of my heart.
                    Lightning flashes;  My only light.

                      The storm is rising in my soul;
                      Shadows flicker, black on black.
                      The wind is blowing, growing cold;
                      Shadows flicker, they bring me back.
                      /I can't hear the thunder/

                    I've got to sleep just this once to forget.
                    Lightning flashes, my only light.
                    The Thunder roars to wake my slumber.
                    Lightning flashes;  My only light.

                 Jerscheid, having walked  softly over  to the  tactical
            console, rolled her  piano out on  top of it,  and began  to
            play along.    If  Dr.  Roy  was  surprised  by  the  sudden
            accompaniment, he barely  let on.   He simply launched  into
            the next chorus with renewed vigour.

                      The storm is rising in my soul;
                      Shadows flicker, black on black.
                      The wind is blowing, growing cold;
                      Shadows flicker, they bring me back.
                      /I can't hear the thunder/

                    The fire  roars in  the fireplace,  flames of  black
                    ice.
                    Lightning flashes, my only light.
                    The night is cold, it burns my soul.
                    Lightning flashes;  My only light.

                 Correctly anticipating the  upcoming bridge,  Jerscheid
            was looking for clues  for a key change,  which Roy knew  to
            provide.  Half way into the  bridge, Roy broke into a  solo.
            Sharp, bright chords  were replaced  by lilting,  passionate
            notes.  Though  in the middle  of his solo,  he was able  to
            give enough clues to guide Jerscheid back to the chorus, and
            then, surprisingly, to a reprise of  the bridge.  One  final
            sustained note indicated the song's  end, and that note  was
            allowed to echo away into silence.

                                      *   *   *

                 It was  long seconds  after  the song's  ending  before
            either of  us  spoke.   "What  song was  that?"    Commander
            Jerscheid asked me.
                 "Something very, very old."   I answered  mysteriously.
            Had  I  not  seen   Jerscheid's  reflection  on  the   blank
            viewscreen, I'd have certainly been surprised when she began
            playing.  As it  was I was grateful,  not only that my  song
            was uninterrupted, but  that I could  share it with  someone
            else.
                 Ignoring my evasion about the song, she inquired,  "Why
            are you up here?"
                 "Are you asking why  I came up here,  or why I'm  still
            here?"
                 "Which would you like to answer?"
                 "Neither, quite  frankly.   Both  involve  some  rather
            grievous misunderstandings, combined with the effects of our
            little experiment."
                 "Does that include why you appear to have been left  in
            command?"
                 "That  more  so  than   the  others,  I  would   think.
            Misunderstandings with Moira I can manage on my own, but  it
            takes a serious level of intoxication to make someone  think
            leaving me in command of a starship is good idea."
                 "Oh, so this has something to do with Moira?  I  should
            have guessed."  Remarked Jerscheid, knowingly.
                 I picked  up on  her meaning,  but  decided to  let  it
            slide.
                 After  I  didn't  respond  to  her  comment,  Jerscheid
            continued, "Just how did you end up in command?"
                 "I think  the Captain  was looking  for any  excuse  to
            leave the bridge.  I, unfortunately, came along and supplied
            one.  Speaking of which," I said, standing up and  gesturing
            towards the Captain's chair, "Care for a seat?"
                 "Sorry, can't."  Jerscheid told me, "If the Captain put
            you in command, I don't see how I can relieve you."
                 "Because that action was clearly due to intoxication?"
                 "I'd have to have some evidence of that."
                 "How about the fact that I was put in command?"
                 "As proof of what?"
                 "Of at least incompetence, on the Captain's part."
                 "Why's that?"
                 "Because I am incompetent!"  I insisted.
                 "Are you?"  Jerscheid  wondered rhetorically, and  then
            before I  could respond,  she  continued, "You  see,  you've
            already been put in  command of an away  team.  The  Captain
            must have felt you were sufficiently competent for that job,
            and from what  I've heard  you did a  pretty good  job.   In
            truth, I'm  sure you're  right, Doctor.   But  officially  I
            can't countermand  the  Captain's  orders  without  provable
            cause.  Were Commander Marek  here, or Commander Moira  not,
            shall we say, indisposed, I'm sure they'd have the authority
            to relieve  you, but  I don't.   I'm  not even  your  direct
            superior."
                 "I see."  I replied, not  without a certainly level  of
            incredulity.
                 "Besides, we're  out,  supposedly,  patrolling  in  the
            middle of nowhere.  What harm could there be in leaving  you
            in command."    Explained  Jerscheid.   No  sooner  had  she
            spoken, than  the unmistakable  sound  of an  incoming  hail
            sounded from the tactical station.  "Incoming hail from  the
            U. S. S.  Gorkon."   Jerscheid told  me as  she cleared  her
            piano off the station.
                 "Can you play the  audio of it so  that I can hear  the
            text of the hail without actually responding?"
                 "Sure."  She told me, "Just a sec."
                 The hail issued from the communications system.  "U. S.
            S. Crazy Horse, this is  Admiral Alynna Nechayev aboard  the
            Gorkon.  Respond please."
                 I refrained from using an expletive.  Passing my guitar
            to  Commander  Jerscheid,  I  suggested,  "Let's  get  these
            instruments off the bridge, for starters.  We've got to make
            this place look  like there's  nothing out  of the  ordinary
            going on."
                 Jerscheid took the  guitar and her  piano and put  them
            just inside the door  to the conference  room.  "Quick,  you
            two, get over  here."  I  heard her yell  at someone in  the
            conference room, although I  didn't know who.   After a  few
            seconds, Commander Naiman and Doctor Hedrick appeared in the
            doorway.   "We've  got  to make  this  look  like  a  normal
            everyday bridge."   Jerscheid  explained to  the  newcomers,
            "Elaine, take the helm, and you take ops, Bill."
                 Both officers appeared to  have reservations, but  they
            trusted  Commander  Jerscheid  and  complied,  taking  their
            assigned positions.    Jerscheid  resumed  her  position  at
            tactical and I stood,  ready to address  the Admiral.   "Put
            Nechayev onscreen, Commander."  I stated.
                 "Wait."  Naiman yelled, "If you're about to address  an
            Admiral, don't you think you should be in proper uniform?"
                 That took  me  by  surprise,  but  I  looked  down  and
            realized  that  my  uniform  top  was  missing.    Commander
            Jerscheid said, "Here."   And as I turned  around I saw  her
            stripping off her,  or should I  say my, uniform  top.   She
            tossed it down to me.
                 I put  it  on  quickly and  said,  "Okay,  I'm  ready."
            Admiral Nechayev's  face  appeared  on the  viewscreen.    I
            answered her  hail,  "Crazy  Horse  here.    Lieutenant  Roy
            speaking."
                 "Lieutenant?  I would  have thought that  on a ship  so
            top-heavy with Commanders and Lieutenant Commanders that the
            Crazy Horse  would  never  have to  leave  a  Lieutenant  in
            command.  May I speak with your Captain, Lieutenant?"
                 "Admiral, you  seem to  have caught  us at  an  awkward
            moment.  You see, we are  running a simulated combat  drill.
            Therefore, the  Captain and  the senior  staff are  somewhat
            indisposed at the moment.  I can  get a hold of him, if  you
            feel the matter is critical, Admiral, but given the  choice,
            I'd prefer not."
                 Nechayev's face showed that she was clearly  evaluating
            something.  Whether it was the plausibility of my claim,  or
            the urgency  of her  own  matter, I  could  not tell.    She
            quietly discussed something with the Captain of the  Gorkon.
            After a  moment,  she announced,  "We  will arrive  at  your
            location in just over one hour.  Be sure that the Captain is
            available at that time."
                 "Thank you, Admiral."  I told her, making no effort  to
            conceal my relief.  I presumed that it would be mistaken for
            relief that I wouldn't have to disturb my Captain.
                 "One more thing, Lieutenant," Nechayev asked, "What  is
            the premise of the simulation?"
                 "Oh, it's  a  relatively  common one,  Admiral.    Four
            members of the crew have been infected with an  intoxicating
            virus, and have  effected a  mutiny by  seizing the  bridge.
            It's based on accounts of the Tsiolkovsky's demise."
                 Nechayev nodded and said,  "Understood.  Happy  mutiny,
            Lieutenant.  Nechayev out."
                 Nechayev's face disappeared from the viewscreen.  I let
            my body fall  back into the  Captain's chair and  let out  a
            huge sigh of relief.
                 "Good one."  Commander Jerscheid said.
                 Naiman added, "Now  all we have  to do  is produce  the
            Captain in one hour."

                                      *   *   *

                 "So how do we get out of this mess?"  I wondered  aloud
            to the  others on  the bridge.   Immediately  after  Admiral
            Nechayev's face disappeared from the viewscreen, Naiman left
            the helm and  took the more  comfortable seat  to my  right.
            Commander Jerscheid sat to my left, and Dr. Hedrick appeared
            content to remain at Ops, turning  his chair around to  face
            our little discussion group.
                 "You got us into this  mess, fearless leader."   Naiman
            said jokingly, "I'd say it's  up to you to get us out."
                 "Agreed."  Jerscheid confirmed.   She didn't appear  to
            be joking.
                 I  considered  querying  Jerscheid  further  about  her
            meaning, but decided instead to state, "My first priority is
            Moira."  Hedrick responded to my comment with a grin that  I
            didn't particularly  appreciate,  but  I  continued,  "We'll
            never get anywhere  with this problem  unless we can  regain
            computer control.  Besides, it'll  take forever to find  the
            Captain if we have to climb all over the place, searching."
                 "We don't have to do any searching."  Hedrick told  me,
            "Internal sensors are  working fine.   That's  how we  found
            you."
                 I'm sure my surprise was written all over my face.   It
            hadn't occurred to me that they'd actually sought me out  up
            here.  Putting that aside,  I remarked, "Well, that'll  make
            things a lot easier,  but we'd still have  to climb down  to
            wherever the Captain is, and back again.  And that  wouldn't
            do us any good either."
                 "Good point."   Naiman  noted, "I  don't think  Admiral
            Nechayev is likely to  see the amusing  side of a  starfleet
            Captain sloshed on Psi and cokes."
                 I nodded  pensively and  then asked  Hedrick, "Can  you
            find the Captain anyway, though.  It seems a necessary first
            step."
                  Hedrick used the  Ops station to  locate the  Captain.
            It took only a few moments for him to reply, "The  Captain's
            in Roddenberry's,  as are  Commanders Marek,  Willmerdinger,
            Scott, Smith,  Campbell,  McMahon  and Brown.    Almost  the
            entire command crew."
                 I  looked   at  Jerscheid   and  then   Naiman   before
            commenting, "I guess you two are missing out on a party."
                 "Wouldn't be much fun anyway."  Naiman observed,  "It's
            mostly a hassle being the only sober people at a party  full
            of drunks."
                 "Speaking of which," I asked, "Why are we sober?"
                 Jerscheid answered,  "Best guess  is that  we've  drunk
            ourselves sober."
                 "That makes sense."  I remarked,  "We were in a  rather
            confined space, the holodeck, exposed to the virus' effects.
            The rest of the crew just haven't gotten enough exposure.
                 "What about  Moira?"   Hedrick  asked, "She's  been  in
            direct contact with the virus for as long as we have."
                 "The computer system aboard the Crazy Horse is vast," I
            explained, "So I'd presume she hasn't had enough exposure in
            any one area to give her enough of a dose.  Can you make the
            antidote without computer control?"
                 Shaking his head, Hedrick  indicated that he  couldn't.
            "I would have thought the replicators  would be a low  level
            system, so they'd be  working, but I guess  they aren't.   I
            tried one of them out earlier.  Any idea why they aren't?"
                 Looking directly  at Commander  Jerscheid, I  answered,
            "Probably to  prevent anyone  from accidentally  replicating
            thousands of roll-up keyboards, I'd imagine."
                 Ignoring my comment, Jerscheid suggested, "What we need
            to do is centralize Moira's consciousness in one area of the
            ship long  enough for  her to  get  enough exposure.    Once
            that's done, I'm  sure the rest  is easy.   What we need  is
            some kind of 'bait.'"
                 Offhandedly  I  stated,  "A  fate  I  narrowly  escaped
            today."
                 "Really?"  Naiman asked me in, what seemed to me,  such
            an enthusiastic  tone  that I  thought  she was  hoping  I'd
            elaborate.
                 Like an idiot, I  did.  "After I  left the holodeck,  I
            went to my quarters where, much to my surprise, I discovered
            it had been turned into a holodeck.  Out of the frying  pan,
            into the fire, so to speak."
                 "Really?"    Naiman  repeated.    This  second  time  I
            realized that she  was only feigning  interest.   Suspecting
            something was up, I turned the  other direction to see  what
            was up, only to feel a  hypospray pushed against my arm.   I
            felt the gentle  pressure of some  kind of medicament  being
            released into my bloodstream.
                 And nothing more.

                                      *   *   *

                 I don't care to  discuss whatever dreams and  fantasies
            may have occupied my mind while I was unconscious, victim to
            Dr. Hedrick's  hypospray, because  I fear  some aspects  may
            have been more real than others,  and I'd rather not  recall
            which.
                 As I  began  to wake,  I  sensed, more  than  saw,  the
            presence of other individuals around  me.  I suspected  that
            yet another adventure aboard the Crazy  Horse had come to  a
            close with me,  in sickbay,  under the  good Doctor's  care.
            However, this turned out not to be the case.
                 I opened my eyes just enough to take in the room, which
            happened to be my bedroom, and the various crew members  who
            were here with me.  Lieutenant  Young was using some  laser-
            like device  to  remove the  ghastly  yellow lines  from  my
            walls.   Commander  Brown was  dismantling  the  holographic
            projector that  had been  surreptitiously installed  in  the
            ceiling.   Commander  Marek  and the  Captain  were  leaning
            against the  wall, next  to the  door, and  talking  quietly
            about something.
                 "Sleeping Beauty  has  awoken."    Commented  Commander
            Jerscheid.  She was sitting patiently on the edge of my bed,
            scanning me with a tricorder.   I wondered for a moment  why
            Doctor Hedrick  wasn't there,  but  then assumed  that  they
            guessed, quite correctly,  that his face  was not the  first
            thing I wanted to see upon waking.
                 "Is he okay?"  The Captain asked matter-of-factly.
                 "He seems fine, sir."  Jerscheid replied.
                 "Right, that's good enough  for me.   Well, I can't  be
            standing around here all day.  Commander Marek, you're  with
            me."
                 With that, The Captain and Commander Marek departed.
                 "And a fine  good morning to  you to, sir."   I  called
            after them,  not  really expecting  them  to hear  me.    To
            Commander Jerscheid, I asked, "The Admiral?"
                 "Been and gone.  Thanks to your, uh -- sacrifice -- the
            visit went off without incident."
                 "Glad to  have  been of  service."   I  stated  with  a
            certain amount of sarcasm.
                 "Thoughtful of you to volunteer."  Replied Jerscheid in
            kind.  Out  of the  corner of my  eye, I  noticed Young  and
            Brown  departing,  carrying  the  disassembled   holographic
            projector.
                 "The needs of the many ..."
                 "... Outweigh the needs of the few ..."
                 "... Or the Doc."
                 "Now, don't  be bitter.   I'm  sure  if you  knew  what
            happened ..."  Jerscheid began before I cut her off.
                 "Commander, would you  be willing to  accept an  order,
            one order, retroactive to  the point when  I had command  of
            the bridge and was in a position to give such an order?"
                 After considering  my request  a moment,  she  answered
            non-committally, "Possibly.  What is it?"
                 "Don't tell  me what  transpired between  being on  the
            bridge and my awakening.  I  don't want to know.  Whether  I
            wrestled a Klingon targ, engaged a Solinae warrior in  hand-
            to-hand combat, drank rye  straight from the replicator,  or
            used the expression  'Garlic Muffin' in  a context that  had
            nothing to do with breakfast, I simply do not want to know."
                 "Understood."  Jerscheid answered,  nodding.  "But  can
            we use the story as gossip?"
                 "As long as it doesn't get back to me, fine."
                 "Great."   She  replied, sounding  entirely  too  happy
            about the whole mess.
                 "By  the  way,  what  happened  with  our   experiment,
            anyway?"
                 "The Captain made us destroy every last molecule of the
            stuff  so  that  there  was  absolutely  no  chance  of  any
            infection while Admiral Nechayev was aboard.  So if we  want
            to produce the stuff, we'll have to start all over again."
                 "Count me out on that, Commander.   There's no way  I'm
            going through that again."
                 "Fair enough.  I'll leave you  to get some rest,  now."
            She told me.
                 "But I've been asleep for I don't know how long."
                 "No you haven't ..."
                 "Commander, you promised."
                 "Sorry.  See you later, Doc."
                 I watched her leave  and then put my  head back on  the
            pillow, intending  to take  her  advice about  getting  some
            sleep.  It took a while, but I finally drifted off to sleep.

                                      *   *   *

                                      Epilogue

                 It seemed to  me that sleep  had just taken  me when  I
            heard a gentle voice calling me back to waking.  I  imagined
            that I felt a hand on my shoulder as well, but I  attributed
            that to the remnant of a dream.  "Doctor Roy, wake up."  The
            voice almost whispered.  I recognized the voice as Moira's.
                 "What is  it?"    I asked,  without  truly  waking  up,
            intending to  hover within  the twilight  between awake  and
            asleep for as long as possible.
                 "There's a subspace communique coming in for you, on  a
            secure channel."  She informed me.
                 I must say that came as quite a shock, and I could tell
            it was a bit of a surprise for Moira, too.  There should  be
            no reason for me to  receive such a call.   "From whom?"   I
            asked.
                 "I've no idea.  The caller's ID, and the source of  the
            transmission are encoded, and I can't break them.  Trust me,
            I've tried.  You'll have to do the retinal scan thing, too."
                 "Okay.  Thanks, Moira."
                 I heard  the  sound that  indicated  the closing  of  a
            communication channel, in this case  marking the end of  the
            conversation with Moira.  I quickly  got my uniform into  an
            acceptable state, combed my hair, and clearly off my desk so
            that I could access the retinal scanner.
                 After the scanning process  was completed, I turned  to
            face my desktop console.  For a moment, the starfleet emblem
            appeared, and then  it disappeared and  was replaced by  the
            image of Admiral Alynna Nechayev.
                 "Good morning, Admiral."  I said cheerfully.
                 "It's 15:23, Lieutenant."
                 "Good afternoon, then  Admiral."   I corrected  myself,
            properly admonished.
                 "I was saddened to hear of your illness, Lieutenant.  I
            had hoped to meet you during my tour of the Crazy Horse."
                 "How nice of you to say, Admiral."
                 "Would you be averse to calling me Alynna?"
                 I was taken  aback by her  question.   When an  Admiral
            asks you to call her  by your first name,  it can me any  of
            several things, and very few of them are good.  "I would  do
            you if you prefer it, Admiral,  but it wouldn't be my  first
            choice."
                 "I prefer it."  She told me.  I translated that  phrase
            as meaning, "Boy are you in for it now, Doc."
                 "As you say -- Alynna.  You can feel free to call me --
            Whatever you'd like, actually."
                 "I was impressed how you  handled the situation on  the
            bridge, Rob.  It's not easy lying to an Admiral."
                 There it was.  I knew as  soon as she asked me to  call
            her by  her first  name that  I  was in  trouble.   She  was
            obviously trying to lull me into a false sense of  security.
            "I don't know what you mean, Admiral."
                 "Alynna."
                 "Okay, I don't know what you mean, Alynna."
                 "You're not fooling anybody.  You don't get to be Fleet
            Admiral  without  learning  a  thing  or  two  about   human
            behaviour.  You were covering up for your Captain."
                 "In a  manner  of  speaking."    I  acknowledged  quite
            unnecessarily, "How much trouble am I in?"
                 "None, as far as I am concerned."  I was informed.  Had
            Alynna been here with  a feather, that  would have been  all
            she'd have  needed to  knock me  over.   Of  course,  that's
            another story.  "I  understand enough of  what was going  on
            over there  to know  your deception  was well  intended,  if
            technically a breach of protocol."
                 "Then I don't understand ..."  I began, confused.   The
            shock was yet to come, however.
                 "I want  you."   Nechayev  stated,  point blank.    Her
            statement was a bullet fired straight through my heart.
                 "Alynna?"  I  gasped.  I  couldn't believe  what I  was
            hearing.  It's a good thing, too, since I wasn't.
                 "I want you  aboard the Gorkon.   I plan  to take  full
            time command  of this  vessel and  get  back out  among  the
            stars."
                 "I'm sure the Federation council will be thrilled about
            that."
                 "If they're not, too bad.  I'm the Fleet Admiral.   The
            decision is mine, and I'm taking the Gorkon.  By the way, do
            you know of the it?"
                 "Not really."
                 "After  Gowran's  attempt  to  write  the  Federation's
            involvement in  the war  against the  Duras family,  he  was
            pressured, partly by the Federation  and partly by the  wife
            of Ambassador Spock, who is the current Vulcan ambassador to
            the Klingon Empire,  to make amends.   Named  for the  first
            great emissary  of  piece  between the  Federation  and  the
            Klingons, Gowran presented to us the Gorkon, a Vor'cha-class
            battle cruiser."
                 "With a cloaking device?"  I wondered aloud.
                 "No.  That would violate the treaty with the  Romulans,
            and besides the  Klingons wouldn't have  wanted to be  quite
            that open about their technology.   It was totally  stripped
            down, and we had to install a new engine, computer core  and
            weaponry.  Furthermore we had to  clean the whole thing  up.
            Klingons are  notoriously  messy  when  it  comes  to  their
            ships."
                 "Among other things."  I added.
                 "Indeed."   Nechayev  agreed,  and  then  shifting  the
            subject, she asked, "So what's the answer?"
                 I  almost  asked,  "What's   the  question?"    But   I
            restrained myself, and  instead asked,   "Can I think  about
            it, Alynna?"
                 "Don't take too long, Rob.  Nechayev, out."
                 Nechayev's  face  disappeared  from  the  console,  was
            briefly replaced by  an exterior  image of  the Gorkon,  and
            then by the starfleet emblem.   I shutdown the console,  let
            out a sigh, and went back to bed.
                 "Goodnight, Moira."  I announced into the air.
                 "Goodnight, Doctor."  She replied.

                                      *   *   *

                                       THE END