Lt. 's Scott and Schrader looked up as Mr. Schultz entered the bridge with Sgt. Stauch close behind. Stauch eyed the pilot suspiciously, but without the smoldering contempt that had been so evident on the
docking bay.
"Where's the Commander?", Lt. Scott asked, hoping for the chance to gain more information on Alpha-9.
Schultz risked a sideways glance at Sgt. Stauch before replying, "He's currently...indisposed."
"What do you mean?", Scott queried, not liking Schultz's tone.
The Huckster eyed Number Two impassively as he took a seat in Reed's command chair, "In due time, Lieutenant. In due time."
"Sir", an excited Ensign VanTedly interrupted from his post as temporary assistant communications specialist trainee, "we're receiving a message from Space Fleet. They state that they've lost contact
with a small farming community on the planet Smedley-7, in the Voraziq Nebula.",the young officer was breathless following his lengthy oratory and was forced to catch his breath before continuing, "They
are requesting our assistance."
"The USS Escort specifically, Mr. VanTedly?", Schultz asked calmly.
"Er...yes, sir.", the ensign relayed, curious as to the nature of the question.
Schultz nodded and, smiling thinly, replied, "Well, that solves one of our problems. Lt. Schrader", he added, turning toward the pilot, "it seems you are out of time."
Schrader looked confused, "I don't quite follow ya', sir."
"If Space Fleet is calling for us, utilizing our current signal and call sign, I must assume that we were not transported to the future. Therefore", he continued, "you must have been transported
to the past...or is that the present? Regardless, you now exist in our frame of time."
"Damn.", Schrader said quietly as he absorbed this new discovery.
"Lt. Scott", Schultz said, speaking loudly enough for all to hear, "set a course for the Voraziq Nebula."
"Aye-aye, sir.", Number Two replied characteristically.
Several decks below and numerous compartments aft of the bridge, Commander Reed had regained consciousness, and was coming to terms with his predicament, in his own special way. Bellowing at the top of his
lungs, he slammed his fists against the transparent force wall that served as a door, "YOU'RE DEAD, YOU HUCKSTER, TRAITOR, MOTHER PUS BUCKET!!" Reed turned and threw himself onto his utilitarian
cot, screaming his fury into the pillow as a violent tremor of sheer rage shook his body.
"Really Commander", a familiar voice spoke from outside the cell, "crying into your pillow. What kind of example does that set for the enlisted men?"
Reed turned over to regard the visitor, his anger white hot.
Egan continued, "It's' really quite beneath a Space Fleet poster boy such as yourself."
Reed launched himself at the doctor who simply stood and watched as the Commander bounced harmlessly off of the invisible barrier of the force field and crumpled to the floor.
"Emotional and stupid", the doctor observed, "and I had such high hopes for you."
Reed slowly rose to his feet, glaring at Egan, "What do you want, you crazy, friggin' quack?" Blood dripped down his face from a cut above his eye.
"Only to help.", the doctor replied with mock concern.
Reed eyed Egan suspiciously, "Help who?"
"Why myself, of course.", Egan stated, grinning maliciously.
