[clark]

Trillian Star Date 2400.2

The room was filled with subdued chatter, as the assembled people filled all the available seats, save two slightly larger chairs located at the head of a long table made from the black oak wood of a Trill tree. Michael Killion wasn't sure what he was doing here, looking at some of the people sitting in the room.

To his immediate right sat General McDougal, a massive man who nearly filled his own, and part of Michael's own chair. To his left, sat Dr. Samantha Bardosa, chewing on what looked like her Last mangled nail. Across from his own seat sat Captain Bruce Maddox, pilot of the Far Star, who seemed to be in an animated discussion with Dr. Hunter, who was sitting next to him. The few others in the room seemed to be various government officials of one derivation or another.

The fact that he was sitting with such people was only slightly less bizarre than the manner in which he came to be here. Two large men in dark suits had stopped by his office only hours ago, demanding to see him. They barged past his secretary, flashing some Imperial summons, and whisked Michael into a waiting hover car before he knew what was happening. He certainly didn't have time to tell his wife, Martha, that he would be late. And no matter his protestations, he was refused a telephone to call her with.

Michael decided to ask the General what this was all about, seeing as Dr. Bardosa was thoroughly engrossed with her nails. "Excuse me, General McDougal, right?" Michael asked nervously.

The General turned slowly, like a slow motion avalanche, his voice rumbling like falling rocks, "yes," he replied gruffly.

Michael waited a moment, then realized that the General was finished answering him. A little irritated, he tried again. "General, thank you. I was hoping you might be able to explain what I am doing here."

General McDougal looked Michael over once, before answering. "Sitting." With that, the General turned away from Michael, staring straight ahead in sullen silence.

Not to be put off, Michael tried once more, tapping the General on the shoulder. "I'm sorry General, I think you misunderstood. I was wondering what this meeting is about?"

Anger flashed across General McDougal's face for a brief moment, and Michael wondered if perhaps the General would smash him into pulp before all of these people. "I understood your question Mr. Killion. If no one saw fit to inform you as to the intent of this meeting, I certainly don't feel the necessity either," he replied sternly.

Now Michael was a bit confused, as well as angered, by the General's comment. How did the General of the entire Trillian military know his name, and why was he being kept in the dark about a meeting he was sitting in, he wondered to himself. Michael glanced over at Dr. Bardosa, and decided it might be more productive to get some information from her. If nothing else, she would be less intimidating than the General.

"Excuse me Dr. Bardosa, I'm sorry to bother you," Michael said to her, tapping her on the hand she wasn't chewing on, "may I ask you a question?" He hoped he was being polite enough, Michael needed to know what was going on.

Dr. Bardosa jumped slightly in her chair when he touched her, she looked a bit shaken, and there were deep circles under her eyes. "Sorry, I've been under a bit of pressure lately." Michael watched as she placed her hands in her lap, but she kept rubbing them together as if she was washing them. He couldn't be certain if she was even aware of what she was doing. "You know, my therapist- he's a quack by the way. He doesn't understand the stress I'm under. And it's not like I can explain it to him."

Michael was confused further, as he didn't understand why she was telling him this. Dr. Bardosa continued, "I hate confined spaces. I get sick at the drop of a hat. I-I-I don't want to die!" Dr. Bardosa's hand shot out and grabbed Michael's forearm, her knuckles turning white with the strength of her grip. He looked into her eyes, and all he could see was plain abject terror.

The man sitting on her other side whispered something into her ear, and magically, her grip loosened on his arm. Dr. Bardosa composed herself, shaking her head as if to clear it of whatever living nightmare had possessed her. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," she said haltingly. Michael could still see the glint of terror in her eyes though, but her body seemed to be back under her control.

"It's quite alright," he replied understandingly. "I was hoping you might tell me what this meeting was about."
Dr. Bardosa's brow furrowed slightly, obviously perplexed by the question. "You mean, no one has told you?"

"No. Some guys in suits just came in and dragged me here a few hours ago." Michael leaned in closer to Dr. Bardosa, whispering, "I just asked the General here, and he wouldn't tell me."

Dr Bardosa glanced over Michael's shoulder at the sitting hulk of the General. She turned back to him, whispering back, "that dumb son of a trill-monkey wouldn't know a direct answer if it fell out of a tree and hit him on the head. I still can't believe they left him in charge of my project."

Michael was curious now, seeing some obvious friction surfacing, but he still wasn't any closer to figuring out why he was here. Perhaps the answer laid in finding out why the others were here. "What's your project?" Michael asked in what he hoped was a casual enough voice.

"I'm not sure I can tell you- what was your name again?"

"Sorry, Mr. Killion, I'm a communication specialist working on the Farsight project." Michael was a bit surprised that she didn't know who he was, but the General did, and they were all in the same meeting. "I won't push about your project, but if you are going to talk about it here, I'll find out eventually," he finished. Michael could see Dr. Bardosa mentally chewing on the information, trying to make a decision. She began to flick her thumb against her index finger in apparent agitation.

She seemed to come to a conclusion, turning fully towards Michael, "The Farsight project, that's the project on dealing with the time dilation effects over stellar distances, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, pretty much." Michael had to admit he was impressed that she knew even that much. Most people never even heard of the project, or what the goals of it were. It always surprised him at people's ignorance on the subject given the very real possibility of their people becoming a multiple planet species.

"Alright Mr. Killion, I'll tell you what my project is. I'll even tell you what these other people are doing here. I think you'll figure it out by the end." Michael then listened as Dr. Bardosa explained the workings of her grava-metric space needle, and how it was capable of pinpointing the entrance and exit points of stabilized hyper-tunnels. She pointed out that Dr. Hunter, was responsible for the underlying mathematics that allowed for her device to function, and for them to even detect the hyper-tunnels. She had to explain twice to him how the hyper-tunnels were like short-cuts in space to cover vast inter-stellar distances.

Michael started putting it together, so jumped in. "So then Captain Maddox will be doing more than proving the engines on Far Star," he said proudly.
"Exactly. We all will." She said, her voice flat and dead.

"What do you mean we all will? Certainly you don't mean me." Michael replied uncertainty in his voice. His stomach felt like someone had kicked it.

Before Dr. Bardosa could reply, a man in a dark suit entered the room, "All rise for his and her lordship and ruler of the civilized world, Emperor Augustine Trillian and his wife Catharine," he bellowed. Immediately the room fell silent, as everyone stood and politely bowed as the Emperor and his wife took their seats at the end of the table.

The Emperor waited patiently as all took their seats, the men in dark suits disappearing into the corner recess of the room. Augustine let his gaze linger across the assembled people, letting a small smile creep across his face. "Ladies and gentlemen. I have word that the ship Far Star is nearly ready for her maiden voyage. My only question is, are all of you?"

Michael's stomach dropped, and he felt like he was going to be sick. Martha was not going to be happy when he got home.

To be continued...