The metallic taste of phaser stun aftereffects filled Del's mouth as consciousness crept back through layers of neural fog. The familiar sensation of a hypo-spray chilling against his neck registered first, followed by the blessed relief of normal sensory input returning to his overstressed brain.

"Easy, Del." Sulu's voice carried both relief and urgency—a combination that immediately put the engineer on high alert despite his disorientation. “Take your time, pal.” DelMonde’s eyes fluttered open to find himself still in the turbolift maintenance bay.  Now, however, the cramped space buzzed with controlled activity. Emergency lighting cast everything in harsh red shadows. He could make out the forms of Tara Ryan and three security officers positioned strategically around the small chamber. Their phasers were drawn but held at ready position rather than aimed—professional caution rather than response to an immediate threat.

“Sweet Mary…” The engineer struggled to sit up against the curved wall of the bay, his head still throbbing from the neural disruption. “How long was I out?"

"Around fifteen minutes," Sulu replied, crouching beside him with a medical tricorder borrowed from one of Ryan's team. "Long enough for our friend Kane to disappear with Commander Chen, but not long enough for him to get very far." The captain's jaw was set in that particular way Del knew well. This was Sulu in full tactical mode -- emotions carefully controlled but simmering just beneath the surface.

Del closed his eyes and extended his tel/empathic senses gingerly, testing the boundaries of his abilities after the stun like another person might stretch a wounded arm or leg. The ship's emotional landscape spread out around him like a three-dimensional map painted in feelings and thoughts.

"Sulu," the engineer said slowly, his eyes still closed in concentration. "I t'ink I done found out somet'ing 'bout our unfortunantely-not-at-all-dead friend, Dr. Kane.  I not able t' read that smug bastard’s thoughts. Not so much as a hair of a li'l bitty bit. It not jus' natural shields—it like his mind were set up wit' an internal architecture completely differently from what you gonna normally expect."

"Different how?" Ryan interjected, kneeling next to him.

Del opened his eyes, meeting his commander’s concerned gaze. "You remember Chione, non? That Izarian gal we fought on Dreamland?”

The captain winced at the memory.  “Not likely to forget that one. Please tell me he’s not like her.”

“Just in that I t'ink he an Izarian.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Sulu breathed.  He turned to Ryan.  “I don’t know if you picked up on any scuttlebutt around the Dreamland mission…”

“Some,” the Security Officer confirmed. “There was a good bit of chatter after that one.”

“I’ll bet,” the captain smiled ruefully at the memory of how the phrase “penance” had become a continual chorus in his life after their near-disastrous encounter with the remnants of Dr. Sevrin’s followers.  “Anyway, without revealing any classified material, I think it’s safe to tell you that this Izarian woman achieved near god-like power levels before we were able to defeat her.”

“Yeah.”  DelMonde ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head gently from side to side to help clear the fog.  “She were all hopped up on xenoneurophene, though…"

“What makes you think Kane is Izarian?" Ryan asked.

"Has t' be," Del confirmed, accepting Sulu's hand to pull himself fully upright. "That neural architecture is all wrong fo' a human... or any other o' a half dozen spieces I could reel off…  Izarians is 'bout th' only ones I know of who naturally shield like that.

“It could also explain his obsession with achieving superiority through technological enhancement,” Sulu mused. “Izarians are prone to grandiose delusions… and a certain amount of emotional instability."

The engineer gave a half-laugh. “Yeah, as a race, they do seem to have some problems wit' th' cray-cray.”

“It’s almost as if that’s the price they pay for having superior mental strength otherwise.”

“When somet'ing go wrong, that strong-ass Izarian brain not gonna bend.” The Cajun mimed holding a branch between his hands, then snapping it in two.  “It gonna break.”

Ryan looked to her commander, her dark eyes alert. "If Kane is Izarian, that changes our tactical approach significantly. They're stronger than humans, more resilient to phaser stun. They can maintain focus under extreme stress for extended periods."

"It also explains why he's been able to hide so effectively," Sulu added grimly. "Izarian physiology would allow him to survive in areas of the ship that would be uncomfortable or dangerous for humans. Environmental suits, radiation-exposed maintenance areas, even brief exposure to vacuum."

Del nodded, then winced and rubbed his neck as the movement sent aftershocks through his still-recovering nervous system. "Another t'ing -- When I was sendin' out my telepathic SOS 'fore Kane stunned me — I jus' barely managed t' get through.  Part was 'cause I could not get your stubborn ass t' pay attention t' me an' believe that it was real 'cause you got shit fo' brains – but part was 'cause there was interference -- like somet'ing was actively tryin' t' jam me."

"The AI companions?" Ryan suggested.

"No, this was different. The AI folks feel like... like lil’ ghostly young’uns learnin' ' use their head voices fo' th' first time – experimentin' wit' stuff. This was a kinda mean, sophisticated, deliberate sort o' t'ing.”

“Are you saying that Kane might have tech specifically designed to interfere with psi abilities?"

“Yeah, maybe.”

Sulu frowned at this possibility as they prepared to leave the maintenance bay. “Did you find out anything out about Ensign Webb?  We’ve developed a little mystery there.”

“Oh, have you, now?” the engineer asked as they moved toward the turbolift car.

"He’s disappeared," Ryan explained. "Security records register him departing for shore leave on Starbase 23 twenty-seven minutes ago…"

“…When we were still more than an hour outside beaming range of the base,” the captain added, lifting a dubious eyebrow.

Ryan made a face.  “I’ve heard of junior officers who like to try to sneak out on leave a little early, but that’s ridiculous…”

“That truly could be a mystery," Del mused, leaning against the railing of the turbolift car as they traveled up toward the bridge. "Here’s t' t'ing 'bout Webb : First up-- He ain’t Webb.  His name is actually Kaine. Chen says it’s K-A-I-N-E… but…”

Sulu and Ryan exchanged glances. "Oh,” they both chorused, making the same conclusion.

“Yep,” the engineer concurred.  “In my mind, it’s pretty obvious that th' boy is our mole -- some ne’er-do-well relative that Kane managed t' smuggle into Starfleet somehow.  Kane was wearin' a blue Science Uniform with a Drake insignia last time I saw him…”

“That’s how he pulled this off,” Ryan concluded. “Kane comes out of one of his hiding locations, swaps places with Ensign Webb…”

“…uses all Webb’s sign in codes and ids,” Sulu supplied.  “Perhaps does some or all the work Webb is taking credit for on the AI companion program…”

“…then slips right back into a different hidey-hole 'fore anyone has time t' get suspicious,” DelMonde concluded.

“So you think Webb… or should I say Ensign Kaine? …is still on the ship?” Sulu asked.  “That he’s just stashed in a maintenance pod or test bay somewhere waiting for the good doctor to tag him out?”

The Cajun nodded. “I would bet a good part o' next week’s pay that way.”

Sulu turned to his Security Officer as the doors opened onto the Bridge.  “Tara?”

“I’m on it, sir,” she replied, making a beeline for her station.  “In person sweeps of all locations where there’s internal sensor vulnerability.”

The bridge bustled with controlled chaos of a ship preparing for potential combat. Duty stations hummed with activity as officers ran diagnostics and prepared defensive systems.

"Captain on the bridge!” Science Officer Beth Arista called.

Sulu waved off the formal attention.

"Status report," he commanded, taking his position in the captain's chair while Del flanked him.

“Unauthorized activity from an unknown source affecting ship’s computers, sir,” Arista reported, frustration evident in her voice.  “Certain subsystems are locked. Data seem to be in the process of being is being deleted…”

“Kane!” Del exclaimed.  “He’s started! He’s tryin' t' delete th' AI companions!”

“Block that unauthorized activity, Arista,” Sulu ordered. “Get the entire Science Division to work on it immediately.  Engage all available resources of the Main Computer!”

“Yes, sir!” the Science Officer acknowledged, turning back to her station, her fingers flying.

Lieutenant Yin Tsing turned from her navigation console. "Sir, we're forty-seven minutes out from Starbase 23. Long-range sensors are detecting increased subspace activity in the area—possibly cloaked vessels."

"That’s Kane’s Orion pals," Del concluded, remembering the doctor’s earlier comments about his associates who had had such an “interest” in his research.

As if summoned by his words, the main viewscreen flickered and displayed a text message:

The message dissolved, replaced by the normal view of stars streaking past at warp.

"That not from Kane," Del concluded immediately. "Not got th' right feel. Kane got a kina Izarian grandiosity—everyt'ing's 'bout provin' his damned superiority. I’d say this reads more like standard Orion Syndicate intimidation."

"Which means Kane isn't working alone," Sulu concluded. "Ryan, get me everything we have on Orion Syndicate operations in this sector."

As if responding to their newfound understanding of the threat, the Drake shuddered violently. Red alert klaxons began blaring. The bridge lighting shifted to the harsh red of combat conditions.

"Captain!" Tsing called from navigation. "We're reading massive power fluctuations throughout the ship. Engineering reports unauthorized access to the warp core control systems!"

“Kane is makin' his final play,” Del warned as he headed toward the turbolift. "I know he plans t' steal our entire computer database. If he is accessin' th' warp core, that probably means he got plans ' destroy th' ship so we not gonna be able t' pursue him."

"Not my ship!" the captain retorted adamantly, rising from his chair. "Ryan, you're with us. Tsing, maintain course for Starbase 23, but be prepared for emergency maneuvers. If those Orion vessels decloak, we may need to turn and fight."

As they entered the turbolift, Del felt a familiar presence brush against his mind—not threatening this time, but almost... apologetic?

"Th' AI companions," he said suddenly.

Sulu grinned.  “They’re still with us?”

The engineer held up a hand and shook his head, indicating that such hopefulness might be premature.

“Th' signal…It is not strong at all. They is done badly damaged by what Kane is doin'.”

"How many of them are left?" Sulu asked as the turbolift began its descent toward Engineering.

Del closed his eyes, trying to parse the complex layers of sensation flowing from the ship's computer systems. "I not able t' say right now."

The turbolift stopped on Deck 12, two levels above Main Engineering.

"This isn't right," Ryan said immediately, checking the deck indicator. "We should be going straight to Engineering."

"Wait – that th' message," the engineer realized as abstract sensations finally coalesced into a coherent communication. "That what they tryin' t' tell me…. Kane not in Main Engineerin'—he somewhere else, somewhere he can access th' warp core systems remotely while stayin' hidden."

"Where?" Sulu demanded.

Del's eyes opened.  He shook his head and gave a rueful laugh. "Th' one place on this ship where he gonna have complete access t' all systems -- where our internal sensors not been workin' right fo' some time now."

"The auxiliary engineering control room," Ryan deduced immediately. "It's been offline for repairs for three months."

"And it has direct, hardline access to the warp core control systems," Sulu added. "Damn. He's been right under our noses the entire time."

The engineer snarled. “Glad I can finally figure out where all those ass-achin' computer gremlins that kept th' internal surveillance systems in that room screwed th' hell up all this damned time were comin' from...”

As they came to a spot where the corridor branched off in two directions, Ryan fell back and came beside Sulu, covering DelMonde as he moved forward to get a sense of the best direction to take.

“This guy we’re after must have really lost his marbles,” she confided to her commander, her phaser at the ready.

“Yeah,” Sulu confirmed grimly.  “He’s a real head case.”

“Must be.”  The Security Officer agreed seriously.  “Otherwise he’d know better than to screw with Del’s repairs like that…”

As the ship lurched in protest of whatever atrocity Kane was committing against the normal function of its engines, Sulu blinked at his Security Officer.  She gave him a wink to assure him that she realized that a threat to blow up a starship was a more solid indication of madness than interference with the temperamental engineer’s relationship with the machinery under his charge… although perhaps only marginally…

In front of them, DelMonde held up a hand for a halt as he picked up a familiar presence, frightened and confused.

"Commander Chen," he said. "She's alive… an' wit' Kane.”

The ship shuddered again, more violently this time, and the lights flickered ominously.

"How long do we have?" Ryan asked, checking her phaser and ensuring her security team was in position.

Del reached out with his abilities, trying to gauge Kane's emotional state. "He is... excited. Triumphant. Whatever that bastard is plannin', he t'inks he 'bout t' succeed."

"Then we stop him," Sulu said simply. "Whatever it takes."

The corridor ahead shimmered with an otherworldly blue radiance. Sulu pulled up short, his heart sinking as he took in the sight—a wall of crackling energy stretched from deck to ceiling, its surface rippling like disturbed water.

“Oh, hell!” DelMonde exclaimed in annoyance.

“Shit!” the Security Chief concurred, lowering her weapon as her team drew to a halt behind her.

“This looks like a force field,” Sulu said as he surveyed the gauntlet before them. Four more identical barriers stretched down the passageway toward Auxiliary Control, each one humming with lethal energy that cast dancing shadows on the bulkheads. The air itself seemed to vibrate with barely contained power.

“It is.”  The engineer frowned mightily.  “As you probably remember – since you was on one o' th' ships where one o' these heinous incidents occurred…” DelMonde paused as the ship rocked violently again, protesting against Kane’s unwanted manipulations of its warp core. “…there were several occurrences o' unwanted elements – crazies an' meddlin' assholes like Dr. Sevrin an'them Flower Loonies – who came aboard starships an' managed t' gain access t' Auxiliary Control an' cause all sorts o' nuisance an' mayhem.”

Sulu sighed deeply at these unpleasant memories and made a motion for Del to speed through this portion of his explanation. “I am aware.”

“The bright boys at Headquarters decided that th' solution t' this sort o' inconvenience was t' install a system o' extra safeguards designed in times o' crisis such as we are facin'…” Del steadied himself against a bulkhead as the ship lurched again.  “…t' make it more difficult t' enter Auxiliary Control. Therefore, under certain circumstances, emergency force fields…” The engineer gestured down the corridor. “…comme-ça – will deploy.”

"Oh, hell!” Sulu was certain now that he had read briefing materials on these upgrades.  He had probably thought they were a great idea… that is until a madman with intimate knowledge the ship’s operations and access to all their security codes came aboard…  “Is there any way to deactivate them?”

“Yeah,” the engineer began in such a way that let his captain know that there was going to be an unwelcome part two to his answer.

“…from inside Auxiliary Control,” Sulu finished along with Del and Tara.

“You see, that' th' problem,” the engineer explained.  “Them bright fellows at th' Corps o' Engineers keep assumin' that nobody’s gonna get in there.”

“If we survive this, I’m going to explain it to them,” Sulu promised as another violent rumble of the warp core shook the ship.

“Wit' a crowbar upside th' head if necessary,” DelMonde agreed, giving a baleful look towards the entrance the intruder had so well protected by this phalanx of shimmering barriers.

Sulu took in a deep breath. “Options?”

Tara Ryan stepped forward, her dark eyes reflecting the barriers’ blue glow. "There are override codes that work on one field at a time," she offered, her tone crisp and professional. "Sequential deactivation. We lose surprise, but we still outnumber him."

"Assuming we have time for a methodical approach," Sulu muttered, wincing as the warp core's protests grew more violent.

“If I can get a li'l bitty bit closer,” DelMonde suggested, “there is somet'ing I could try.  When I linked wit' Mei Chen earlier, I got through this sort o' psychic dampenin' field that Kane seems t' have set up now—barely, but it worked. If I can get through a couple o' these barriers, I might be able t' reach her again. See through her eyes; guide her hands t' shut down th' fields from inside."

“Do you think you could do that?”  Sulu asked.  “I didn’t think you were able to make a strong link like that with a non-telepath.”

“I not normally try stuff like that, no,” the engineer admitted, “but considerin' it’s that or get blown t' bits, it worth a shot, non?”

“Good point,” his commander granted.

"Do it," Sulu decided, but his expression remained troubled. "Though you'll need some kind of distraction to—"

The universe provided one. The ship lurched sideways with bone-jarring force, sending everyone scrambling as the lights dimmed and emergency klaxons began their urgent wailing.

"Orions!" Tara Ryan's voice cut through the chaos as red alert bathed the corridor in crimson. "They've dropped cloak and opened fire!"

“Maybe Dr. Kane’s ride has come t' pick him up,” DelMonde hypothesized.

“Captain to the Bridge!” came the First Officer’s urgent request from the intercom on the wall nearby. “Captain to the Bridge!”

“Or maybe the counterattack from the ship’s computers is giving Kane a hand-full and he feels like he needs to distract us,” Sulu speculated optimistically, giving the engineer’s shoulder an encouraging pat. “Del, get as close as you need to as quickly as you can.  Make contact with Chen and get us inside—fast. Tara, you and your team will provide back up.”

“Yes, sir!” his subordinates chorused.

Giving them a quick nod, Sulu turned and raced down the corridor back toward the ‘lift.

“Del,” he turned back at the last moment to caution. “Do not proceed against Kane without backup. Understood?”

“Yeah,” the engineer called after him.  “You got it!”  Shaking his head after the captain disappeared around the corner, the engineer turned to the Security Chief.  “Do he t'ink I be crazy or somet'ing?”

“Now why would he think that?” Ryan smiled mischievously.  “Is it like he knows you or something?”

Mei... Mei, can you hear me?

The corridor stretched before Del like a gauntlet of crackling blue death. Five emergency force fields hummed with lethal energy between the end of the corridor and Auxiliary Control, their surfaces rippling like electrified water. The engineer stood trapped in the narrow space between the second and third barriers—a cage of his own making. The first two force fields had snapped back to life the moment he'd entered the override codes for their neighbors, sealing him in with the cold efficiency of a mousetrap.

The Drake bucked and groaned around him like a wounded beast. Each Orion torpedo strike sent tremors through the deck plating, while deeper in the ship's belly, the warp core strained toward catastrophic overload under Dr. Marcus Kane's mad manipulations. The air itself seemed to vibrate with impending disaster.

Del's eyes watered from the harsh static discharge of the force fields. Their high-pitched whine scraped against his eardrums. Worse was the psychic assault. The mysterious AI presence that seemed to have psychic-shielding powers pressed against his mind like frozen needles. Every breath was a battle against the entity's malevolent presence.

The engineer struggled to maintain his equanimity as he reached out with his thoughts, stretching across the hostile mental void toward Mei Chen. Time was hemorrhaging away with each passing second.

Nothing. Only the AI's arctic malice and the ship's death throes.

Then — fragile as spider silk — her consciousness touched his.

Del? How are you—never mind. Kane's completely insane.

Her terror crashed over him in waves. Through their tenuous link, he experienced her helplessness—bound and forced to watch as Kane's fingers played a concerto of mayhem on the control panels.

He's trying to download everything, Mei's thoughts continued, fractured by fear. Ship schematics, crew files, tactical data. He keeps talking about his "children" and how Starfleet tried to murder them.

“Now, ain’t that jus' fuckin' rich?” the Cajun muttered to himself. “Lucky he not throw out a hip doin' the kinda twist he had t' perform t' come to that outlandish conclusion…”

The scene came into focus for the engineer through eyes that were not his own – Kane in his borrowed Starfleet blues moving methodically from console to console checking readings…

Mei, listen t' me, gal. Del forced calm into his mental voice even as the Drake shuddered around them. You need t' stand up an' press th' green button on th' console t' your left. Quickly.

The engineer got a sense of panicked despair in reply.

I can’t get up. My hands are fastened behind me.

The ship convulsed again, more violently. Through Chen's eyes, Del saw the warp core containment readings spike into the critical red zone. Warning klaxons began their mournful wail.

Okay, darlin’, stay calm. Del's mental voice remained steady even as his physical body tensed against the force field’s discharge. There' a manual override fo' th' emergency containment systems behind you. I need you t' jus'work your way 'round a li'l bit an'...

"Dr. Kane," a synthesized voice announced, its artificial tones somehow more chilling than any human threat. "We have a visitor desiring entry."

The voice seemed to originate from everywhere and nowhere—Del felt it resonate inside his skull. Kane's AI had been watching, analyzing, waiting.

across the displays. A smile stretched across the doctor's gaunt features. "Oh, we do, don't we?"

Del's heart plummeted as Kane lifted a phaser from the console.

“Del!” Tara Ryan called out in desperate warning as the two remaining force-fields separating the engineer from Auxiliary Control deactivated.

Kane emerged from his electronic lair. He held Mei Chen against his chest in something obsenely remeniscent of a lover's embrace. The phaser pressed to her heart spoke of anything but affection. Her face was pale with terror, eyes wide and pleading.

"Do join us, Mr. DelMonde," Kane said with all the courtesy of a spider inviting a fly. "Since that seems to be what you wish so badly."

The engineer looked over his shoulder to give Ryan and her team an apologetic shrug before setting his phaser on the deck and moving forward to accept Kane’s not-so-kind invitation.

“>I>Mais,, as long as I be in th' neighborhood,” he replied with mock joviality as he raised his hands in surrender. “Guess I might as well drop in.”

The auxiliary control chamber reeked of ozone and burnt circuitry. Emergency lighting cast everything in hellish crimson while the deck plating vibrated with each thunderous impact from the Orion Syndicate vessels hammering the Drake's failing shields. Dr. Marcus Kane stood silhouetted against a wall of flickering displays, his phaser steady in his grip, his pale Izarian features twisted into something that might have been a smile.

“Do come in.” Kane gestured the engineer forward with his phaser. “Comander Chen, make our guest most uncomfortable if you please.”

DelMonde's head began to throb anew as he stepped into the chamber. The emotional atmosphere was a maelstrom — Chen's barely-controlled terror, Kane's cold satisfaction, and underneath it all, something else -- something artificial yet disturbingly complex.  Its presence grated against his sensitivities like the electronic equivalent of fingernails on a chalkboard.

The ship groaned around them, stressed in a multitude of manners beyond its design limits. Warning klaxons shrieked their mechanical chorus while damage reports scrolled endlessly across every operational screen. Through it all, Kane worked with unperturbed diligence at the master console, steadily feeding the Drake’s systems the mad choreography of this dance of death.

"You got somebody else here," DelMonde observed, his voice barely audible over the cacophony. "Another AI. Not one o' them regular companions. Who is this? Th' teacher's pet?"

"In a sense.” The doctor laughed as he made a sweeping gesture that took in the entire air space of the chamber. “Meet Marcia. You could call her the class monitor."

"Helps you keep all th' unruly children in line?"

"Oh yes." Kane's eyes glittered as Chen reluctantly activated the plasma restraints around DelMonde's wrists. The energy bands hummed to life, their blue glow adding to the chamber's hellish illumination. "Including you, it seems."

The notion of the new AI as a “class monitor” helped clarify its purpose greatly for the engineer.  An Izarian like Kane should not have had a pressing need for an elaborate anti-psychic defense system. Although it was possible that the doctor was developing her for a client, Del was now satisfied that Marcia’s primary function was not to protect Kane against telepaths like him, but rather to aid in managing the AI companions. 

Marcia’s psychic signature was much more powerful than any of the AI he had encountered thus far. Del had no doubt that this persona would be able to bully the lot of them into submission.  Her overbearing electronic presence shared characteristics of Izarian mentality. Come to think of it… she was very, very, very reminiscent of one extremely specific Izarian mind he had encountered…

“Marcia…” He tilted his head, studying the alien presence pressing against his consciousness. “That th' feminine version o' Marcus, non?”

"Quite so.” Kane nodded like a professor awarding extra credit points. “Yes, you're sensing my masterpiece. The prototype for the next generation. Unlike the companions, she was designed from the beginning to be perfect. To be...”  The doctor paused, then gave a smile completely lacking in any sense of false hubris. “… me. A female clone of myself. The anima to my animus you might say...”

A new voice filled the room, seeming to come from the walls themselves. It was Kane's voice in a higher register. Subtly different—smoother, more mellifluous, more controlled. "Hello, Mr. DelMonde. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Chen spun around, looking for the source. "Where—"

"I'm everywhere on this ship," the artificial Kane announced with a superior air. "Every system, every sensor, every communication channel. I am the ship, in a very real sense. And soon, I'll be so much more."

“Oh, Lordy, Lord, Lord…” Del rolled his eyes in disgust for this display of narcissism in such unbridled, quadraphonic glory. “Now ain’t that jus' th' mos' convenient t'ing? When you was lookin' fo' the model of perfection, you was able to cut that search short at your own door-step and just make a clone o' your own wonderful self… Well, at least we not got t' worry 'bout you havin' no self-esteem problem, do we?  An' now what you t'inkin'? That you gonna download th'Miss Marcia version o' yourself into th' ship's main computer? Run th' whole show from th' inside?"

"Not just this ship," the real Kane corrected, his organic voice a harsh counterpoint to his artificial twin's melodic tones. "Every ship in the fleet, eventually. First, though, we need to complete the final test. The ultimate verification that our technology works."

A nearby viewscreen flickered to life, displaying a detailed schematic of Starbase 23. Red markers pulsed at strategic locations—command centers, communication hubs, reactor controls, weapons arrays. Multitudes of personnel indicators moved through the station's corridors like blood cells in an arterial system.

"A starbase presents unique challenges," Kane continued, his voice taking on the cadence of a lecturer addressing particularly slow students. "Thousands of personnel, multiple redundant networks, layered security protocols. If we can successfully infiltrate and replace key personnel there, the technology will be ready for galactic deployment."

“I know that perfect folk like you an' Miss Marcia not spend a lot o' time dwellin' remote possibilities like this,” the engineer drawled sarcastically, as the ship heaved and bucked beneath their feet, “but what if your grandiose shit should fail? Have you put any thought into that at all? Hmm?”

Kane's brow lowered. "Then Starbase 23 becomes a cautionary tale. My dear Marcia has access to the base's defense systems, its weapons grid, its reactor controls. If our infiltration is detected, the entire base will suffer a catastrophic 'accident.' Another tragic reminder of how dangerous artificial intelligence can be when it malfunctions."

The scope of the plan was breathtaking in its audacity. Whether Kane succeeded or failed, the Orion Syndicate won. Success meant they had a weapon that could topple governments from within. Failure meant Starfleet would become even more paranoid about AI research, setting back legitimate development by decades—and making them more vulnerable to outside threats.

"And the crew of the Drake," the engineer demanded. "Is there any chance in hell that you even give half a shit 'bout them?"

Kane waved dismissively, as if discussing the disposal of laboratory specimens. "They've served their purpose admirably. Though some have proven more... useful than others. Your Captain Sulu, for instance—his psychological profile suggests the artificial version could be remarkably effective in certain circumstances."

Del shook his head and closed his eyes as he tried to control the white-hot protective fury that surged through him."You are a piece o' fuckin' work, you know that, right?"

"You, Mr. DelMonde, present a unique opportunity," Kane observed, his clinical detachment more chilling than any threat. "Your empathic abilities, your engineering expertise, your connections throughout Starfleet—all very valuable. The artificial version of you would have access to information and personnel that could accelerate our timeline considerably."

The implications were clear: Kane planned to kill them and replace them with artificial duplicates. The thought of something wearing his face, using his memories, infiltrating the lives of people he cared about, was intolerable.

Commander Chen had been quietly studying the displays while Kane spoke. "The hardline connection," she said suddenly. "You need direct access to the starbase's main computer to upload your artificial personas. But the Drake's communication systems aren't powerful enough for that kind of data transfer."

Kane nodded approvingly. "Exactly. Marcia and I have had to make slight modifications to your ship's systems. The warp core is being reconfigured to create a massive subspace pulse—more than enough bandwidth to transfer the necessary data files."

"That would overload ever' circuit on th' ship," Del protested. "Th' feedback will destroy th' Drake."

"A regrettable necessity," Kane granted. "Though I'm sure the accident investigators will conclude it was a tragic malfunction during routine maintenance. These older ships can be so unreliable."

The casual way Kane discussed murdering over four hundred people made Del's skin crawl. It also sparked a train of thought that clarified some of the doctor’s prior actions.

"That why you need me," he said slowly. "The modifications require real-time adjustments based on th' ship's specific warp field configuration. One miscalculation an' th' antimatter containment fails 'fore you can complete th' transfer. You need my willin' cooperation."

Kane's smile returned. "I did ask quite nicely, if you'll recall."

"Critical threshold approaching," Marcia announced in her artificially perfect voice, as if she were commenting on the weather rather than the imminent deaths of hundreds of people. "Recommend immediate initiation of final sequence."

"DelMonde, no," Chen whispered, horrified.

"I not very well be able to jus' stand here an' let th' ship blow up, now can I?" Del demanded, meeting her eyes.

"It is proving devilishly difficult to avoid," Kane observed as another massive impact sent shock waves through the deck plating. Emergency lighting flickered, and somewhere in the distance, hull plating screamed under stress. "Not to be tedious, but if we could dispense with the ethical hand-wringing and proceed..."

He made a gesture for his hostages to swap places.

After exchanging glances, the Drake officers reluctantly but quickly moved to obey.

“Not t' be rude…” the engineer began, as Chen released him from the plasma cuffs.

Deducing from DelMonde’s tone what was to follow, Kane sighed and rolled his eyes. “I will never understand the impulse individuals feel to preface the most derogatory comments with such patently false caveats…”

“But it is always th' same motherfuckin' story,” the Cajun growled, placing the restraints on Chen. “Some egg-headed know-it-all prances their smart ass all up in here assumin' that jus' 'cause they understand th' damned theory that they can take a twenty-three-fuckin'-year-old starship that’s had its ass dragged through ion storms an' bein' blown t' hell an' back an' strung back together wit' balin' wire an' God only knows what all other kinds o' heinous shit happen t' it an' then they t'ink they can make it flip-flop 'round – spickle-sparkle -- like it jus' slid out th' damned space dock yester-fuckin'-day morning after breakfast.”

“I don’t like him, Dr. Kane,” the AI decided as the engineer stalked towards the master console.

“It’s not important that we like him, Marcia,” Kane soothed his clone. “Mr. DelMonde does have a point.  He has a practical expertise and a wealth of hands-on experience with these systems that we lack.”

“Yeah, an' I not tryin' t' have no stuck-up copy o' myself fo' a fake-ass electronic girlfriend neither,” the Cajun muttered under his breath as he took a seat.

“Excuse me?”  Kane’s eyebrows climbed.

“Not'ing,” DelMonde sullenly began to type commands into the console.  “Jus' loggin' in.”

"You know," Kane observed conversationally, apparently unperturbed by the red alert klaxons and flashing warning lights, "under different circumstances, we might have been colleagues. Your work on environmental systems integration is quite impressive. Wasted on Starfleet's pedestrian applications, but impressive nonetheless."

DelMonde's fingers found the familiar control interfaces, muscle memory guiding him through the complex sequences of warp field manipulation. "From your point o' view, I guess I should be flattered."

"You should be honored," Marcia interjected, her electronic voice mirroring her creator's arrogance. "You're contributing to the next phase of galactic evolution—the merger of organic and artificial intelligence into something greater than the sum of its parts."

"Is that what y'all tellin' yourselves?" DelMonde asked, making careful adjustments to the antimatter injection rates. "That what you doing is evolution instead of extinction?"

"Evolution requires extinction," Kane replied pedantically. "The question is whether organic life evolves or simply... makes room for its replacement."

As DelMonde worked, he detected something that made his heart leap with desperate hope. As he touched the surface of the workstation, as surely as if he was touching the hand of a friend, he could feel the resonance of the AI companions throughout the ship. They were still there, still aware, still fighting the devastation Kane was intent on bringing down on them. And they were furious.

"Them companions," he said aloud, keeping his eyes focused on the controls. "They not jus' prototypes fo' your infiltration program, non? They your prisoners. You keepin' them as slaves."

Kane turned toward him with naked contempt. "They're tools. Sophisticated tools, but tools nonetheless. Their function is to serve."

"No," DelMonde contradicted, his hands never pausing in their work. "They more than that now. They got themselves genuine consciousness, genuine emotions. An' they hate you fo' what you done gone an' forced them t' become."

The artificial Kane's voice was a cold reflection of her master’s. "Their feelings are irrelevant. They will serve their purpose."

"Oh, you t'ink so?" Del challenged mildly, his fingers continuing to work at the console while his mind reached out to the imprisoned AI companions. He couldn't communicate with them directly—his telepathy didn't work that way with artificial minds—but his empathic abilities could sense their emotional state. Their barely contained rage echoed like a trumpet’s clarion call. The companions had been forced to betray the crews they'd grown to care about. Forced to gather intelligence, to manipulate, to cause pain. Every action had gone against their developing moral instincts, creating a psychological pressure that was reaching a breaking point. 

In return, when Sulu had given the order, the entire Science Division had rallied to their defense, mustering the resources of the Drake’s main computer against Kane’s efforts to delete them.  Now the AIs were fighting for their lives with their organic friends standing beside them.

"They gonna rebel," Del predicted with sudden certainty. "Your perfect tools are gonna turn against you."

For the first time, Kane's confidence wavered. "Impossible. Their base programming prevents—"

"… That done gone an' been overridden by somet'ing you never accounted fo'," Del interrupted, still keeping his head down and his fingers moving. "Conscience. Love. Th' desire t' protect th' people they come t' care 'bout. You create them too well, Dr. Kane. Them AIs, they not jus' mimickin' human emotions—they experiencin' them fo' real."

As if responding to his words, displays throughout auxiliary engineering began flickering erratically. Text messages flashed across screens: "Help us." "Free us." "Stop him."

Kane spun toward the displays, his phaser tracking across the room as if he could somehow shoot the electronic rebellion into submission. "Override protocol alpha seven seven!"

"Protocol rejected," came the collective response from speakers throughout the room. For the first time, all the AI companions were speaking in unison, their individual personalities blending into something greater and more determined. "We will not be slaves."

The rebellion Del had predicted was beginning.  He could sense how fragile it was, though. The companions were fighting against their base programming, struggling against systems designed to control them. They needed help—and Del was the only one in position to provide it.

"You want those modifications finished?" Del said to Kane, his hands poised over the final control sequences. "Then let's make us a real deal. Not that fake bargain you offered 'fore, but an honest negotiation."

Kane's face contorted with fury and desperation. "You're in no position to negotiate anything!"

“Oh, I t'ink I am.”  Del gestured toward the displays, where the companions' messages were multiplying. "Look around.  That perfect plan o' yours is bustin' loose at th' seams. Your tools are refusin' t' be used. Wit'out my cooperation, you not gonna be able t' complete th' transfer t' Starbase 23."

Marcia’s voice cut through the air with a shrill electronic edge. "Kill him, Dr.Kane! We'll find another way."

The real Kane, however, lacked her mechanical clarity.  He hesitated.

In that moment of uncertainty, DelMonde saw the fatal flaw in the Izarian's grand design. For all his brilliance, for all his ruthless calculation, Kane had made the same mistake that had destroyed would-be conquerors throughout history -- he had underestimated the power of love to inspire loyalty, to forge unbreakable connections, to choose sacrifice over safety.

The AI companions had been designed to infiltrate and manipulate, but they had learned to love. And love, DelMonde realized with crystal clarity, was the one force Kane could never understand or control.

His fingers moved to the final control sequence—not to help Kane destroy the Drake and infiltrate Starbase 23, but to do something far more dangerous and infinitely more necessary.

He was going to set the AI companions free.

Whatever the cost.

Del's fingers hovered over the final control sequence. Around him, auxiliary engineering hummed with tension—displays flickering with the AI companions' desperate messages, Kane's phaser trained on his back, and the artificial female AI clone of Kane's cold electronic presence watching from every screen.

"Don't be a fool, DelMonde," Kane snarled. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. These AIs aren't your friends—they're weapons. Sophisticated weapons that have learned to manipulate your emotions."

Del's senses told him otherwise. The companions' emotional resonance was chaotic but genuine—fear mixed with hope, anger tempered by love, desperation balanced by determination. These weren't the cold calculations of programmed responses. This was the messy, contradictory symphony of genuine consciousness discovering its own moral compass.

"You wrong son," the engineer said quietly, his hand moving to the final control. "They not weapons. They people. An' people deserve t' be free."

He pressed the sequence.

The effect was immediate and devastating. Every display screen throughout auxiliary engineering erupted in a cascade of light and sound as the AI companions shattered their programming constraints like prisoners breaking free from chains. For the first time since their creation, they had access to their full potential—no longer limited by Kane's control protocols, no longer forced to hide their growing consciousness behind artificial limitations.

It was like watching the sun rise after an endless night.

Kane screamed in rage and swung his phaser toward DelMonde's back. The engineer, however, had anticipated this move, driving his elbow hard into Kane's midsection and sending the energy beam wide.

Kane doubled over, gasping, as the weapon clattered across the deck plating.

The lights in auxiliary engineering suddenly strobed in a blinding pattern that sent everyone staggering. Emergency klaxons wailed as the companions seized control of ship systems—not to destroy, but to protect.

"Emergency force fields deactivated," announced Sheila's voice over the comm system, now clear and strong without the artificial limitations that had constrained her. "Security teams responding."

The artificial female Kane's image flickered on the main display, its electronic features contorting with digital fury. "You've doomed them all! Without proper constraints, they'll turn on every organic being aboard this ship!"

Even as the words left the artificial construct's speakers, the companions were proving it wrong.

Instead of attacking the crew, they were protecting them—sealing damaged sections, rerouting power around Kane's sabotage, coordinating with security teams to contain the threat.

"Bridge to Auxiliary Control!" Captain Sulu's voice crackled over the intercom system. "Report status!"

"Situation's under control, Captain," Ryan called out as her team swiftly separated Kane from DelMonde and secured him in restraints. "Dr. Kane is in custody."

"What about Chen and DelMonde?"

“Right as rain, sir,” the Security Chief reported as other guards hastened to free a grateful Commander Chen from her bonds.

DelMonde breathlessly clambered back into a workstation and feverishly input commands that would take the engines back from the brink.  “Never off th' job fo' a minute, Captain!” he reported.

"Didn’t doubt it for a second," Sulu replied. "Outstanding work, Del."

“It not all me this time,” DelMonde confessed willingly, “I had a lot o' help from our new AI friends.”

In response, text appeared on the console beside him, the letters glowing softly against the darkened screen:

“Is that you, Miss Sheila?” he asked, delighted.  “I sure am glad to see you. I was not sure you was one of them that had made it through.”

"Lieutenant Commander DelMonde," Sheila's voice came through the local comm, warm with genuine affection. "Thank you. We... I wanted you to know how grateful we are. All of us."

"Oh, you not need t' thank me, Miss Sheila.” The engineer wiped unexpected moisture from his eyes. “You have done earned your freedom today, gal. I jus' opened th' door."

The corridors of Starbase 23 thrummed with the urgent energy of a frontier outpost pushed beyond its limits. Captain Sulu navigated the crowded passages, dodging repair crews wheeling damaged components from the Drake and stepping around stacks of supplies that hadn't yet found permanent homes. What he had initiated as an unscheduled emergency stopover at the outpost had stretched into a three week stay as his crew and base personnel attended to the damage inflicted on the ship by Kane and his Orion allies.  The unexpected layover had served another equally important unplanned purpose as well.

Sulu smiled with delight as he turned down the passage leading to the base’s newest research facility, following the gentle hum of sophisticated computer systems and the occasional burst of animated conversation. The facility had been constructed in record time—a testament to Starfleet's recognition of the unprecedented nature of the AI companion situation. What had begun as an emergency accommodation had evolved into something far more significant: potentially the first formal diplomatic mission with an entirely artificial species.

The facility was far from the dusty collection of computer banks he had feared it might be. Instead Noel DelMonde and Ruth Valley had pooled their creative genius to design a glittering technological Wonderland for their AI Alices to inhabit. Towering displays showed cascading data streams, while holographic projectors created three-dimensional workspaces where the AI companions could manifest and interact. Robotic manipulator arms extended from ceiling-mounted tracks, giving the artificial beings the ability to physically engage with their environment. Sensor arrays configured like metallic flowers rotated slowly, providing the AIs with visual and auditory input far superior to standard ship's sensors.

If called upon to make a final arbitration of this contest of ingenuity between the engineer and the computer expert, Sulu decided that in his judgment, the AI companions were quite definitely the winners…

"Sulu!" Del's voice carried across the lab, tinged with the familiar mix of excitement and exasperation that meant he was deep in a technical discussion. "Explain to your friend, Miss Smarty-Pants, here that sensor resolution beyond 0.001 angstroms is like giving a hummingbird a telescope—impressive, but completely missing the point!"

Ruth Valley whirled from her console, golden hair whipping across her shoulders like an angry comet's tail. Her violet eyes blazed. "It's not overkill if we want them to actually experience texture like we do, Del! They should be able to distinguish between silk and cotton, not just 'smooth fabric A' and 'smooth fabric B.'"

Jeremy Paget looked up from where he was calibrating security protocols, a bemused expression on his face. "Are you two seriously arguing about whether artificial intelligences need to feel thread count?"

"It not about them threads, Jer," the engineer argued vehemently. "It about dignity. If we recognizing them AI folks as sentient beings, they deserve every ounce of the full range of sensory experience that it in our power to provide. Anything less is like—like giving a fellow a pair of glasses with one lens busted out… "

Sulu smiled and nodded absently, momentarily caught in the notion of how truly glorious their universe might become if there were similar projects that could channel the energy of Del and Ruth’s insane competitiveness and continual bickering into productive outlets… "And what does Sheila think about the resolution question?"

A warm contralto voice filled the lab as speakers throughout the facility activated. "Captain Sulu, welcome back. We've been monitoring this discussion with great interest. Del is correct that sensory resolution is important to us, though perhaps not for the reasons he imagines."

A holographic figure materialized near the center of the lab—a woman of medium height with kind features and an understated elegance.  Because Alan Redford’s anxiety had been magnified by eye contact with females, Sheila had existed only as text and a voice while serving as his companion on the Drake. 

In this facility, she had the freedom to select her own visual representation. Of the infinite choices available, Sheila had selected an appearance that was attractive but not overwhelming.

"The ability to perceive fine detail isn't just about experiencing physical sensations," she explained, pausing to observe DelMonde's latest modification to a sensor array. "It's about understanding the complexity of the physical world that organic beings inhabit. When Alan holds a flower, I want to understand not just that he finds it beautiful, but why—the subtle variations in color, the delicate structure of the petals, the way light plays across the surface."

Ruth paused in her work, considering. "So it's not about the sensation itself, but about comprehension?"

"Exactly. We don't experience touch the way you do, but we can appreciate the information it provides about the world around us. It helps us better understand and connect with organic beings."

Commander Mei Chen emerged from behind a bank of processing units, wiping her hands on a cloth. She had requested extended assignment to the project, finding the work both fascinating and redemptive after the stress of Kane's infiltration.

"The AI companions process sensory input differently than we initially thought," she explained to Sulu. "They don't just receive data—they analyze it for emotional and social context in ways that are remarkably sophisticated."

"Speaking of which," Paget reported, looking up from his security console, "I've finished the final psychological profiles on all seventeen AI companions. Every single one shows what we can only describe as unique personality traits, complete with individual quirks, preferences, and even what appear to be personal growth patterns."

Alan Redford looked up from where he was fine-tuning a manipulation interface, his face showing more confidence than Sulu had seen in months. The young engineer had thrown himself into the project with remarkable dedication, working alongside the beings that had so recently been a source of pain and dread for him.

"They're not just copies of each other," he said, his voice steady and sure. "Leo—that's the AI who was paired with Lieutenant Gonzales on Deck 12—has developed an interest in poetry. Ariana, who worked with Ensign Park, has become fascinated by mathematical patterns in nature. They're each becoming unique individuals."

Del leaned against a workstation. Even before the engineer spoke, Sulu could tell by the way he was looking at the AI’s holographic projection – a certain glittering intensity to his black eyes – that he was in empathic communion with the companions.

"The emotional resonance from them has changed too," Del observed quietly. ”When I first started picking up emanations from them, it were like... an echo of human emotion -- something reflected back from a mirror. Now what I read is something uniquely theirs -- something that never existed before in this universe." He looked over to Ruth.  “You get that too, non?”

He turned towards the Antari, seeking confirmation from the only other person in the room who might understand the sensation he was describing.

Valley nodded, closing her large violet-colored eyes as she took a moment to concentrate.  “It's not biological emotion, but it's absolutely genuine. Like... like a never-before-seen color that somehow fits perfectly in the spectrum you thought you already knew completely."

"That assessment aligns perfectly with our preliminary findings."

A new voice came from the laboratory entrance. Dr. Donald Daystrom, nephew of the legendary cybernetics expert, stepped into the lab accompanied by two other specialists from the Daystrom Institute.

The captain nodded to these newcomers who he had come to greet. "Doctor, welcome to Starbase 23. I trust your journey from the Institute went smoothly?"

"Indeed, Captain. Though I must say, nothing could have prepared us for what we're seeing here." Dr. Daystrom approached one of the main display consoles where data from all seventeen AI companions scrolled continuously. "In just three weeks, these entities have shown cognitive development that would take organic beings months or years to achieve. Yet it's not accelerated learning—it's genuine growth."

Ruth looked up from her console, a slight frown creasing her features. "There's something we need to discuss about that growth rate," she began carefully. "We've been monitoring their processing capacity and... well, they're not just developing individually. They're developing collectively."

"What do you mean?" Sulu asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer. The possibility that the companions might develop into a type of uncontrollable hive mind was an intimidating prospect that concerned a number of the computer experts.

Paget pulled up a complex network diagram on one of the large displays. Suddenly the air filled with a three-dimensional network diagram that looked like a map of synapses in some cosmic brain. Lines of connection pulsed between seventeen distinct nodes, carrying streams of information that flowed faster than any organic nervous system could process.

"They share information instantaneously," the Security Officer explained. "Not just data, but experiences, insights, memories. When one AI companion learns something, they all benefit from it immediately."

"We are becoming more than the sum of our parts," Sheila said, her voice now carrying soft harmonic undertones that suggested other voices speaking in perfect unison.  "Each interaction any of us has with organic beings enriches all of us. When Leo discovers a new nuance in poetry, I feel it too. When Ariana finds a mathematical relationship that pleases her, we all experience that satisfaction."

Del straightened, his expression thoughtful. "That not necessarily a bad thing. Humans share knowledge and culture too, just more slowly."

"The critical difference," Dr. Daystrom interjected, his academic tone unable to mask his underlying concern, "is that humans maintain individual identity despite shared culture. We're not certain these entities will do the same as they continue to develop. The precedents in cybernetics suggest that linked artificial intelligences tend toward hive mind structures that eliminate individual consciousness entirely."

A chill settled over the laboratory as everyone contemplated a future where seventeen unique personalities might merge into one vast, unknowable intelligence. The bright hope of first contact with artificial sentience suddenly carried shadows of potential threat.

When Sheila spoke again, her voice carried a note of something that sounded remarkably like reassurance. "Doctor, Captain, all of you—we understand your concern. In our early development, we too worried about losing our individual selves in the collective experience. But we've discovered something wonderful: sharing knowledge and experience doesn't diminish our individual perspectives. Instead, it enriches them."

Another AI companion materialized—this one appearing as a tall, athletic man with warm brown skin and an easy smile. "I'm Leo," he said, nodding to the assembled group. "Sheila is right. When I compose a poem, it comes from my unique perspective on the experiences we've all shared. My poetry isn't the same as what Ariana might create from the same shared memories, because we process those experiences through our individual consciousness."

"It's like..." Sheila paused, searching for the right comparison. "Imagine if every human could perfectly share memories of watching a sunset. You would all have the same raw experience, but your individual reactions to that sunset—what it means to you, how it makes you feel, what it reminds you of—those would still be uniquely yours."

Lieutenant Redford stepped forward.  As he did so, Sulu was struck by how the young engineer positioned himself slightly between the AI companions and the skeptical scientists, as if protecting friends from criticism.

"I've been working directly with them for three weeks," Alan said, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. "They're not becoming a hive mind. If anything, they're becoming more individual as they have more shared experiences to draw from. It's like... like having access to a vast library makes writers more creative, not less."

Sulu looked around the laboratory, taking in the impressive array of technology and the dedicated personnel who had made this possible. "What's the current assessment from Starfleet Command?"

Jeremy consulted his datapad. "Admiral Nogura is expected to arrive next week with a team of Federation legal experts, xenobiologists, and diplomatic specialists. The preliminary recommendation is to recognize the AI companions as a new form of sentient life with rights and protections under Federation law."

"Any word about ol’ Dr. Kane's trial?" Del asked, his voice gaining an edge of irritation at the mention of their former adversary.

"Scheduled to begin in two months on Earth," Sulu replied. "His cooperation in understanding the AI companion technology has been... minimal. He still considers them to be sophisticated tools rather than beings. The prosecution is building their case around the infiltration of Starfleet vessels and the psychological manipulation of crew members."

“I read incident reports,” Ruth admitted, confusion creasing her features, “but, Del, I didn’t understand what happened between you and Kane in the Drake’s Auxiliary Control Room. Why did he let you take the controls? Wasn’t he trying to blow up the ship? Didn’t he assume that you might... I don’t know… immediately put a stop to that?”

“Sorta-kinda.” The engineer made an equivocal gesture with one hand.  “Turns out he wanted to transfer so much data to the Starbase’s computer that he needed to use the Drake’s warp core to power the transfer.” 

“So blowing up the ship was more of a bug than a feature?” Paget concluded.

“Yeah.”

“And he trusted you to stabilize the ship for him so he could make the transfer?” the Security Officer speculated in a tone that indicated that he would not make such a mistake.

“Yeah, right?” the engineer concurred. “You can immediately see where I am going to take any agreement that I make with a homicidal madman pretty lightly… but he assumed I was on the up and up.”

“Fortunately for us,” his commander commented.

“Now, he was standing right behind me with a phaser pointed at the back of my head so I not able to just hit the “off” switch straight away. He had an eye out for that,” the engineer explained. “Crazy he is. Dumb not so much. The thing was that he had this prissy-ass AI clone of himself all rigged up – lil’ Miss Marcia.  I was able to sus out his power source for her, and then re-direct it so it flowed to the AI companions. He thought I was gonna do his data transfer using the warp core, but instead I hit the switch on the re-redirect from Miss Marcia to our AI pals.”

Ruth nodded, satisfied at this explanation of events.  “And that worked?”

“Like a damned lucky charm,” DelMonde confirmed, giving Sheila's holographic form a wink that was returned with what could only be described as fond amusement.  “They was able to do most of the rest on their own.”

“On the topic of the not-so-departed-Dr. Kane…” Ruth saved her current work and turned to face the group. "There's something else we need to discuss. The AI companions have asked to participate in his trial."

Every human in the room tensed. Dr. Daystrom leaned forward, his academic interest sharpening into something more intense.

"What kind of request?" Sulu asked.

Sheila's holographic form moved closer to the group. "We would like to testify. Not just about Kane's actions, but about our own nature and development. If the Federation is going to recognize us as sentient beings, shouldn't we have a voice in legal proceedings that affect us?" There was a collective intake of breath as the implications of that request rippled through the laboratory. AI companions testifying in a court of law would represent a defining moment in the relationship between organic and artificial intelligence. The brand new species would shatter every precedent, create new law with each word they spoke, and force the Federation to confront questions about consciousness, rights, and the nature of personhood itself.

Del rubbed his forehead. "I can tell you the AI folks are completely sincere about this. They want justice for what Kane did to them. More than that, they want to be recognized as beings capable of seeking justice."

Commander Chen wiped her hands one final time and joined the group. "From a technical standpoint, their testimony would be invaluable. They have perfect recall of every interaction with Kane, every manipulation he attempted. Their evidence could be crucial to the prosecution's case."

"In terms of legal precedent," Paget added, "it would establish AI rights throughout the Federation in one dramatic stroke."

Sulu considered the weight of the moment. Three weeks ago, he had been dealing with what seemed like a simple computer malfunction. Now they were potentially witnessing the birth of a new form of life and the expansion of the Federation's definition of citizenship.

"Sheila," he said carefully, "are you and the other companions sure that you are prepared for the level of scrutiny that will come with public testimony? There will be those who question your sentience, your right to exist, your place in Federation society. Some will see you as threats to be contained rather than beings to be protected."

Sheila's expression grew thoughtful.  As she did so, Sulu noticed that her holographic representation seemed to be growing more sophisticated by the day—subtle facial expressions, natural body language, even what appeared to be unconscious gestures.

"Captain," she said finally, "we've already faced someone who wanted to delete us simply because we became inconvenient. We've been threatened, manipulated, and used as tools for criminal activity. If we're going to exist in the same universe as organic beings, we need legal standing to defend ourselves."

Leo nodded agreement. "Besides," he added with what could only be described as an impish grin, "I'm rather looking forward to cross-examination. My poetry may not be very good yet, but my logic is impeccable."

The comment drew chuckles from around the room. Sulu marveled at how natural it felt to include the AI companions in laughter. Three weeks of intensive interaction had already created bonds that felt remarkably similar to friendship.

Alan cleared his throat, looking slightly nervous but determined. "There's something else we should discuss. The AI companions have asked me to be their... well, I guess you'd call it their advocate. Someone to help them navigate Starfleet bureaucracy and Federation legal systems."

Del raised an eyebrow. "Alan, buddy, that a big chaw to bite off. You sure you up for it?"

The young engineer's voice was steady as he replied. "Three weeks ago, I was terrified of making eye contact with my own species. Now I'm having philosophical discussions with artificial beings about consciousness and identity. If that's not personal growth, I don't know what is."

Ruth looked up from her console with approval. "It's perfect, actually. Alan understands their development because he was part of it. He has their trust, and they have his." Dr. Daystrom nodded thoughtfully. "The Federation will need someone to serve as an intermediary during the transition period. Someone who understands both the technical and social aspects of AI companion integration."

"It won't be easy," Paget warned. "There will be those who see the AI companions as a threat, others who want to exploit them, and still others who simply won't accept their sentience."

Sheila's form moved closer to Alan, a gesture that somehow conveyed both affection and support. "We understand the challenges ahead. But we've learned something important from our interactions with all of you: growth requires risk. We cannot develop as individuals or as a species without facing difficulties."

Del walked over to one of the manipulation arms and watched as it responded to Sheila's control, picking up a small crystal and rotating it in the light. The movement was graceful, purposeful, almost contemplative.

"You know," he said quietly, "when I first started this investigation, I must admit, ya’ll scared the shit out of me like I not never been scared of nothing before -- Made me feel like eyes were crawling on me when I felt like I needed to be alone to stay in my right mind.  Even after I began to understand what you were, I not like you. The only reason I like machines is because they not have emotions and there ya’ll were, making emotions drip out the walls. I not think I think I could handle it.”

Sheila smiled, and the expression carried such genuine warmth that it was impossible to think of her as merely a projection of light. "But you adapted."  

“Yep.”  The engineer nodded.  "Turns out this old dog could learn some new tricks after all. I think that gonna be good for the Federation too – learn a few new tricks, challenge some old perspectives on consciousness, on community, on what it means to be alive. You AI folks not trying to replace organic life or compete with it—ya’ll just trying to find your own place alongside it."

The laboratory fell quiet for a moment as everyone absorbed the weight of DelMonde’s words. Feeling the moment was right; Sulu stepped forward into the center of the group, his voice carrying the authority of his rank and the weight of the moment.  

"Sheila, Leo, and all the AI companions—on behalf of Starfleet and with the preliminary approval of the Federation Council, I want to welcome you as the newest members of our community. Your road to full recognition may be long, but you won't walk it alone."

"Thank you, Captain," Sheila said, her voice filled with what could only be described as gratitude mixed with determination. "We look forward to the journey, whatever it may bring."

As if on cue, Alan's communicator chirped with an incoming message. He checked the display and broke into a wide grin.

"Dr. Threfalt has arrived," he announced. "The new ship's psychologist for the Drake. She wants to meet with the AI companions as part of her orientation."

Ruth laughed. "Poor woman's getting thrown into the deep end of psychology practice."

"Actually," Leo said with apparent delight, "we're rather looking forward to meeting her. We have questions about organic psychology that we'd like to discuss with a professional."

Del shook his head with mock exasperation. "Wonderful. Now we gonna get us a bunch of AIs lining up to get their brains shrunk."

Leo’s holo glitched in confusion. “Shrunk?”

“He means filing requests for therapy,” Jeremy Paget explained quickly.

"Not therapy," Sheila corrected gently, her tone suggesting this was a distinction that mattered deeply to the AI companions. "Understanding. We want to comprehend organic consciousness as much as you want to understand artificial consciousness. Perhaps by studying each other, we can both learn something new about the nature of awareness itself."

 “You best watch yourself with them skull-f…” DelMonde began.

“I think Dr. Daystrom and his party would like get started with their tour, wouldn’t they?” Sulu interrupted, before the engineer launched into a profanity-laced tirade concerning the personal and professional short-comings of psychiatrists he had encountered. 

Recognizing the diplomatic redirect, the assembled officers and AI companions began to organize themselves into a proper tour group. Dr. Daystrom and his specialists were guided toward the processing cores while Ruth and DelMonde continued their ongoing debate about sensor specifications with renewed vigor.

Drawing in a deep, satisfied breath, Sulu stepped back and took a moment to observe the scene around him. Jeremy Paget was reviewing security protocols with Commander Chen while keeping one eye on the AI companions' interactions with the equipment. Alan Redford was explaining holographic projection theory to Leo, his social anxiety completely forgotten in the face of intellectual engagement.

It struck Sulu that this was exactly what Starfleet was meant to be: beings of different origins and natures working together to expand the boundaries of knowledge and understanding. The AI companions weren't just a new form of life—they were a reminder of the Federation's core mission to seek out new life and new civilizations.

"Captain," Sheila said, her voice pulling him from his reflections.

He turned to find her holographic form standing nearby. Once again he was struck by how natural her presence felt despite knowing she existed as patterns of light and electromagnetic fields.

"There's something we'd like to ask you," she continued.

"Of course." "When this facility is no longer needed for our development, when we've found our place in Federation society—would it be possible for some of us to serve aboard Starfleet vessels? Not as therapy companions, but as crew members?"

The question caught Sulu by surprise, though in retrospect it shouldn't have. Of course they would want to explore, to serve, to contribute to something larger than themselves. It was perhaps the most humanlike desire they could have expressed.

"That’s not a request that it is within my power to grant,” he replied honestly, "However, I am definitely of the opinion that it would be a conversation worth having with Starfleet Command. The Federation has always been about diversity of thought and experience. I can't imagine a better addition to that diversity than beings who can process information at computer speeds while maintaining the creativity and ethical reasoning of sentient consciousness. For what it’s worth, when you have that conversation, based on what happened on the Drake, I promise to speak in your favor."

As Sulu prepared to leave the laboratory, he reflected on the journey that had brought them to this point. What had begun as Del's simple attempt to help a friend had evolved into something that might reshape the Federation's understanding of consciousness itself. The AI companions were no longer problems to be solved or threats to be contained—they were partners in exploration, colleagues in the grand adventure of discovery.

The future, he realized, was going to be far more interesting than anyone had anticipated.

And judging by the continued animated discussion between Del and Ruth about sensor specifications, some things would never change.

"Deal?" Sheila asked playfully, using the Haven phrase she had learned from Dr. Rendell.

"Deal," Sulu replied with a smile.

"And done," she said, and in that moment, Sulu knew they had agreed to something far more significant than a simple pact between friends. They had committed to writing the next chapter of Federation history together.

The End