Once inside the Maru and after liftoff, Beka decided what the atmosphere needed was a little bit of music to set the mood for the evening. Forget about Virgil Vox…what she needed was something to remind her of her past.

“Computer, access music file number 2239.”

Immediately, the ship was filled with loud rock and roll music. Beka was the first to begin singing and rocking to the beat. After a few moments of watching Beka and realizing how fun it looked, Trance soon followed suit. Not long after, Doyle (after accessing her files on popular song, dance, and cultural rituals involving human female bonding) decided that their behavior, though it seemed ridiculous and illogical, nevertheless looked rather intriguing. As the three of them sat, singing, swaying, head banging, and generally getting jiggy (at least as far as they could while still strapped in by their safety belts), Beka reminisced that she hadn’t had this much fun since she had snuck out of her father’s cargo ship as a teenager with some friends she had met on one of his smuggling missions. Suddenly and without warning, however, her sensors picked up a distress call.

“Well that’s just great…computer, cut music.”

Immediately the loud music was staunched, and the only sound that could be heard was the computer systems, the distress call, and Trance and Doyle still singing for a second or two – apparently unprepared for the sudden change in auditory environment. Trance, while briefly flushing with embarrassment, nevertheless quickly regained her composure.

“What is it, Beka?”

“Distress call…there’s a ship under attack…or something. Not quite sure, but I need to check it out.”

Beka switched course in the direction of the distress call. After a moment or two, she spotted a large starship with a design unlike anything she had ever seen. Though not nearly as big as Andromeda, nevertheless it appeared to be home to hundreds…maybe even thousands…and it was dead in space.

“This is Beka Valentine of the Eureka Maru. Are you in need of assistance?”

“Yes! Indeed we are,” a male voice answered.

Beka cut communications off briefly so she could consort with Doyle and Trance in private. “Ooh, he sounds cute!” she squealed.

“My systems process that he is a male human, of British origin, approximately late 40’s to early 50’s.” Doyle surmised.

“So he’s a little older. I always wanted a father figure. Computer…resume communications mode. On screen.”

Doyle’s assumptions were correct. The screen flashed, and the three of them were greeted with the figure of a bald man, dressed in a sort of military uniform, not unlike the Commonwealth, but unlike anything any of them had ever seen prior to that moment.

“I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise. We have been tracking an entity known as ‘Q’, and somehow our ship got transported here into this unknown region of space. Can you tell us where we are?”

“In the Seefran system…wait a minute…did you say ‘Q’?”

“My lieutenant informs me that Seefra doesn’t appear on any of our systems logs,” stated Picard.

“I’m not surprised,” replied Beka. “We had never heard of it either before we were stuck here, just like you are now.”

“Stuck? You mean you haven’t been able to leave the system?”

“Nope. Again, pardon me for interrupting, but did you say you were tracking someone called ‘Q’? If so, I think we’ve spotted your man…er…being…or whatever he, she..it…is.”

“Indeed! Ms. Valentine, I would like to discuss this with you more in detail. In the meantime, our life support is running out. Can you tow us to the nearest inhabitable planet so we can possibly refuel?”

“Sure thing…but it’ll cost you.”

There was a brief silence as Beka surmised the other ship had cut audio communication briefly while they discussed the matter among themselves. Finally, the Captain replied.

“How much?”

“Why don’t I take a shuttle over to your ship and we can negotiate.”

“No need,” replied Picard. “I’ll just beam a representative over to your ship.”

“Beam?” Before Beka could ascertain exactly what the strangely attired captain meant by such a statement, a bright light filled the Maru and immediately a figure stood in front of them. The three women were dumbstruck. ‘Wow’, thought Beka. ‘What a figure of testosteronal masculinity’. He was tall – very tall, actually – dark, handsome…and human.

“Hello. I am Commander William Riker. Shall we begin negotiations?” The way Riker used the word ‘negotiations’ suggested that he may have more in mind than that of getting his ship towed to safety. Beka, intrigued by the handsome man’s charm, followed suit with some flirting of her own.

“Well, how do you do?” replied Beka, as she looked the first officer up and down whilst twirling her hair around her finger.

Riker looked back at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know, Deanna most likely would have protested my beaming over here, if she knew what sort of lovely ladies would be greeting me.” There was a brief moment of silence as the two of them stood there, eyeing one another appreciatively.

“Beka…the bucky cables?” Trance reminded Beka.

“Oh…right.” Beka typed in the command on the computer screen. As the bucky cables pulled the Enterprise, the Maru groaned and shuddered under the strain. Riker cast Beka a worried look, but she soon calmed his fears.

“It’s okay…I’ve towed much larger ships than yours.”

With their trip to Boyagen postponed, the gals returned to the bar in Seefra in order to work out negotiations with the crew of the Enterprise. Dylan, Rhade, and Harper looked in startled surprise and slight amusement as the three women entered the bar, the four men from Enterprise in tow following behind. The first was Captain Picard, followed by Commander Riker. Behind them, walking side by side was a strange looking fellow with golden eyes, and a very large muscular humanoid-like species the like of which they had never seen. The ladies looked very pleased with themselves – Beka in particular – as they approached the bar.

“While you guys were here sulking at the bar all day doing nothing, we ladies have stumbled across some real opportunity for profit…and possibly a way out of this system,” replied Beka with an air of superiority. Normally such a quip from Beka would have earned a smirk and a snarky remark from Rhade. However, the mere mention of a way out of this miserable hellhole sparked his curiosity. Dylan and Rhade looked at each other hopefully, and Harper grinned from ear to ear. Before Beka could gloat any longer, however, the bald man behind her approached and introduced himself to the three.

“I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise. This is my first officer Commander William T. Riker, Lieutenant Commander Data, and Lieutenant Commander Worf.”

Rhade began to hold out his hand to greet the captain of the Enterprise. Seeing what was happening, however, immediately Dylan gently pushed the overzealous Nietzschean’s hand down and stepped between Rhade and Picard, extending a hand of his own. No one was going to introduce themselves to this Captain before he was – after all, tight pants or not – he was still the Captain. Behind him, Dylan heard Rhade growling at him as the Nietzschean downed another shot of whiskey. Dylan continued, unabated by Rhade’s futile attempts at intimidation.

“I am Captain Dylan Hunt of the Commonwealth Andromeda Ascendant. The women who escorted you in are my first officer Beka Valentine, my ship’s AI Rom..I mean, Doyle, and my medical officer Trance Gemini. The man sitting next to me with the tight leather pants is Lieutenant Commander Telemachus Rhade, and the man behind the bar is my ship’s engineer Seamus Harper.”

As the group of officers exchanged introductions, Data and Doyle began eyeing each other with interest. Doyle was intrigued by the man with the golden eyes. Her sensors couldn’t pick up a heartbeat of any sort from the figure in front of her.

“Are you human?” asked Doyle with interest.

“No, I am not. I am an android,” stated Data matter-of-factly.

“Interesting…so am I,” replied Doyle, batting her eyelashes. “What a golden skinned hunk of gorgeous machinery you are!” Data looked at her with curiosity. His systems ran tests of her facial expression, vocal inflection, and various other scans (all done in split second android timing, of course) before he came to the conclusion that this beautiful buxom android woman was indeed coming on to him.

‘Thank you, Dr. Noonian Soong, for my emotion chip’, thought Data to himself as he smiled back at her. Together, they both walked off to sit at a table in a remote corner, away from prying eyes and ears.

Back at the bar, Dylan and Picard were discussing negotiations, and basically ignoring the others (as Captains often do when they get together in groups of two or more). Riker and Beka had proceeded to excuse themselves to yet another far off table. With nothing better to do, Rhade and Worf began to eye each other warily – each of them letting out a low growl from time to time, in a primal attempt to intimidate and stare the other down. Trance and Harper, feeling rather left out, decided to go into a back room to have one of their frequent conversations, which often took place whenever the others overlooked or seemed to ignore them – which seemed to be happening more and more frequently of late.

“Hrmpf,” Harper said to Trance as he grabbed a couple bottles of Sparky Cola on their way back. “Who knows…maybe one of these days somebody will take the time to notice we’re gone, and will actually think we’re up to something back here.” Trance only nodded her head in silent agreement as the two walked off to their secret little hideaway.

Back at the bar, Rhade and Worf continued in their quest of testosteronal superiority, to determine who indeed was the most masculine between them. Rhade was the first to begin vocal negotiations in their caveman-like contest.

“What species are you?” snarled Rhade to Worf.

“Klingon,” Worf growled back at Rhade. “What do you think? Just look at the forehead ridges!”

The two of them eyed each other, continuing in their altogether vain attempt to stare the other down. However, Nietzscheans and Klingons being what they are – similar in nature – neither would back off.

“And what exactly are you?” replied Worf, his Klingon eyes narrowing to a menacing stare that would have chilled the very heart of many less warrior-like species. Rhade, however, was unimpressed with Worf’s attempts at getting the upper hand.

“Nietzschean. Can’tcha see the boneblades?” Rhade smirked.

The two continued to study one another. After another moment or two, both of them realizing they were getting nowhere with this game, instead decided it would be more profitable for them to become friends than continue testing each other’s testosterone levels. Speaking of testosterone, Rhade was beginning to think that he needed a woman…a real woman…to help him forget last night’s escapade.

“You have any women on your ship? Real women?”

The Klingon warrior’s mouth changed into a grin…or at least Rhade thought it was a grin. Actually, it was rather hard for him to tell precisely what expression Worf was making. He assumed it was a grin, anyway.

“There are many women on the Enterprise.” Worf’s expression quickly turned to sadness, however. “Unfortunately, there are no Klingon women on board.”

Rhade, looking at Worf and trying to ascertain from the Klingon’s features what a female of his species would look like, quickly decided that not having a female Klingon on board was probably the best news he had heard all day. The last thing he needed was an ugly woman. Then again, he remembered how beautiful the woman in red was…that is, before she changed into that hideous image of Q…which looked like Beka’s uncle Sid. Rhade shuddered involuntarily. Worf, misinterpreting Rhade’s shudder to be due to the climate, immediately determined that he might yet indeed be able to get the upper hand over the Nietzschean in his quest for superiority.

“Cold?” Worf asked Rhade with a sneer.

“Of course not. Nietzscheans are never cold,” gloated Rhade with a superior smirk. Worf narrowed his eyes and growled in response, realizing with dismay that he himself was becoming a bit chilled by the night air that was beginning to permeate the building as the twin suns set on the horizon. Rhade, on the other hand, being completely unaffected by the sudden change of atmosphere, continued to down one shot of whiskey after another in a futile attempt to forget the woman in red. Both Worf and Rhade continued to discuss such things as forehead ridges, boneblades, and the need of a good woman or two to keep them company.

As the patrons of the bar continued throughout the chilly evening to drown their sorrows through booze, company, and card games, suddenly the cold night air burst in with a sudden forcefulness, as the automated bar doors slid open. All eyes turned as she entered the building – long flowing brown hair, red dress, and that ever provocative black bodice. Yes, Rhade’s woman in red had arrived again…but this time she was wearing shoes.
 

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