The BLTS Archive - Scotty: The Early Days (Book 2)
Story #3: In the Cradle of Destiny
by Sarah James (sarah_james_42@yahoo.com)

---

feedback: always welcome

disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters belong to Paramount.

---

Montgomery R. Scott left the chill October air far behind
out there in the streets of Edinburgh's Old Town, as he
found the warmth his mother spread throughout the cosy, dim
rooms of her new pub on Grass Market most comforting.
Quietly the young man revelled in this moment where he was
seated next to a homely fireplace. There he could peacefully
bury himself in his technical journals while Mother Dear
finished serving a few customers at the bar before she
finally grabbed a full blond pint called Pipers Gold and
delivered it to his table together with a rich bowl of
chips.

"There you go lad. Here's salt'n vinegar. Enjoy," her
melodic Caledonian burr invited him to dig in with all his
appetite.

"Thank ye Darling mother." He smiled back at her. Her
affectionate way was a nice distraction from the cold
shoulder he'd seen from his father for more than a year now.
Ever since Montie had eventually realized how important Star
Fleet and space were to his life their relationship was
worse than just tensed. And tensed it had always been,
literally from day one, when Scott family rumours claimed
wee Montgomery had slipped into this world with his tiny
fists raised and ready to fight just in case there was some
old man waiting there, trying to push him around. In ensuing
years Father and Son Scott had missed no opportunity to
exchange blows, if only verbal ones.

But these days their shouting matches had descended into
still, eerie silence. Scott sighed, darting a quick glance
over his shoulder to where his father quietly worked at the
bar, unwilling to take notice of him. Not even a word of
greeting would leave those hard-lined lips whenever
Montgomery came to visit them. Just this annoying cold
glare, as if his son had murdered somebody.

As a frown creased his dark brows, Montie polished the
ensign emblem on his uniform. It was brand new. It might as
well have said: just graduated. But the young officer-to-be
didn't mind. He was proud of it. Even if his father couldn't
spare a word of encouragement at this time, he knew that at
least the rest of the family was happy for him, especially
Grandfather who was all Star Fleet himself.

As a matter of fact Captain Ramsay Scott left out no
opportunity to brag that his youngest grandson had made it
through the Academy in half the time others would. That
wasn't true at all. He merely happened to be the first real
cross trained graduate in the Academy. His supervisors had
agreed to train him in Engineering and Command at the same
time. He was a sort of experiment. So that was how he had
behaved so far. Which had also led to the fact that, during
his education in the most established Academy on Earth,
Scott had nearly managed to get himself kicked out several
times when his experiments interfered with his supervisors'
idea of discipline and order. That and the fact that he was
hardly a diplomat when expressing his deeper thoughts had
been a thorough thorn in the side of his career so far.

Playfully Scotty shrugged and tugged his favourite
graduation present out of his pocket. Aye, he had caused
trouble. Aye, it has always been worth the trouble though.
Absent-mindedly he fingered the old tobacco pipe he'd
received from his grandfather. An antique, made of wood and a
beautiful one it was. Just as his fingertips brushed over
its surface in admiration a grumpy growl pulled him out of
his reverie.

"Tobacco is illegal," George Ian Scott barked. " I'd report
anyone smoking this stuff in my pub. Don't think I'd make an
exception for you. Go ahead, son. Try me if ye like. The
communicator is right in my hands. One click and authorities
will be warned."

Montgomery gasped in shock and righteous outrage. "I was
only looking at it," he pressed through gritted teeth.

"You can look at it outside!" Ian bellowed borderline drunk
and dispensing the intense smell of cheap, blended Whiskey.
Then he picked a digital board from the wall behind his
son's head. "Here! House rules! Read this when you can make
the time. For your information, dear customer, we do not
tolerate substances intended for abuse whether these are
drugs, tobacco or pain killers, I make no difference. I also
don't tolerate..."

Angrily Montie grabbed his pint, emptied it with one big
gulp and shot to his feet. "Sons who have a life of their
own, aye, I noticed. Give mother a kiss from me, I have a
feeling it's time I be leaving. I am no' going to listen to
your insults one second longer. Can't wait to finally get an
assignment to get as far away from you old Tyke as possible.
So long, Da. I'm off to HQ."

Visibly surprised Ian stemmed his fists into his side. "I
did no' say you have to leave! What's this space stuff about
anyway. Space ships! Space stations! Star Fleet! Pah! That's
bonkas. If man was meant to fly around in space God had
given us a warp drive instead of an arse."

Scotty raised a mocking eyebrow. "I never even thought you'd
ken a warp drive. Technophobic old geezer!"

"Respectless young goat! Sit down and finish yer meal for
gods sake. Don't be silly lad, I already charged your credit
chip for it. I will no' refund! I never do."

Without looking back the younger Scott marched through the
door bellowing, "Aye and I live how I choose to live. Kiss
my warp drive. Cheerio!"

---

As his shape re-materialized in the reception hall of his tiny,
humble living quarters in Star Fleet HQ, in orbit of Earth
otherwise known as planet Terra of the Federation of United
Stars, Scott was still fuming heavily. He was angry at his
father for being such a stubborn old Loudmouth and he was
angry at himself too. Because he had allowed the stubborn
old Loudmouth to stir his fiery Scots temper once again.

The young Scotsman cursed heartily, then marched over to the
bed chamber he shared with his wife Madeleine, shining
Academy graduate in her own right. Her grades topped his by
far. Scott suddenly beamed with true pride. She was held up
as Star Fleet's newest hope. He agreed. She was a super
woman, his super woman. One day she would be Captain of some
grand ship, no doubting that. Maybe one of the new
Constitution Class Ships. Hm, maybe even this yet unnamed
ship skilled builders were currently putting together in
Docking Bay Nine. Who knew.

"Welcome home Scotty!" the computer's voice snarled
suddenly, acknowledging his arrival rather late, which
startled Ensign Scott. He flinched irritated. Somebody would
have to do something about this useless house computer. If
only he could afford a new system. This useless pile of junk
had just roused poor Madeleine. Slowly the woman with rich
auburn hair lifted her head from the pillow to look around
in sleep-drunken daze.

"Hello love!" he jovially greeted this bedazzling naked
nymph who was seductively hugging her blanket in a way that
gave him a stunning look at her long legs and her bare
bottom, both sheer endless perfection in his eyes. His heart
leaped.

"Mmmmmm Scotty" she murmured.

"Aye. Whom else were you expecting? Give me names. I'll beat
them all up."

Slowly she lifted the river of russet hair from her pretty
face to glance at the chronometer. "Awful man. It's
ZeroSixHundred local time, Darling. Come to bed."

Scotty blinked confused, then snapped out of his own
puzzlement with a start. "Oh time difference. I forgot," he
realised with a sheepish green. "I suppose it's too early
for a full Scottish breakie, eh?"

Madeleine chuckled bemused. "Much too early. Take your
clothes off and come to bed. I didn't expect you to be back
before early evening. What happened?"

His tongue licked his lips in giddy anticipation while he
quickly stepped out of his uniform. "Nothing. Really. I
missed you," he assured her, not even wanting to think of
anything but her at the moment. She was the beauty of his
life.

Gentle brown eyes admired her smooth skin as he pulled her
blanket away centimetre by centimetre. The air fell brisk
and fresh on her body, causing her nipples to turn into hard
knobs. Scotty moaned deeply as he felt the bright white heat
of lust flush into his loins. Carefully, carefully shaking
fingers reached out to touch vulnerable skin. She twitched
beneath the cold but did not protest. His breath began to
hiss with increasing excitement.

"You feel good," he mumbled against her neck.

Madeleine purred satisfied as the cuddly warmth of her
blanket was forever lost to be replaced by his growing
presence. "And you feel hard."

---

Entangled in woman, Scotty opened one lazy eye in response
to the buzzing alarm clock. He tried to say something, but
only an inhuman deep groan escaped his mouth.

"Hmmmm?" she murmured, her face still covered in her own
hair. One of her legs was wrapped around his hips, holding
him down tightly.

As if he had any desire to escape from her. She was the one
leaving. She'd be gone for six unbearable weeks. Scotty
sighed. "You set the alarm?" This time his voice didn't fail
him, but came out sounding interestingly deep, hoarse and
lustful. Montie cocked a fascinated eyebrow. Were he a lass,
he'd fallen for himself that moment.

"Yes," Madeleine yawned heartily. "I've got to pack my
stuff. Six weeks is a long time. I'm going to need a few
things. Say, are you going to miss me?"

He laughed. "Aye. Terribly."

"I'm going to miss you too. God, how I envy you."

His eyes grew wide in astonishment. "You envy me?
Sweetheart, you are the envy of the whole Academy. Is that
clear to you?" Indeed she was. Madeleine and nine other
top-score graduates had won the chance to attend a special
training camp on Wildcard, a desert planet just outside the
Sol System.

"But you are the one who has Commodore Kastor's full
attention. Montgomery Scott, first ever graduate to be
directly promoted to become assistant engineer of some head
of department. Is that clear to you, Mister?"

Scotty's gaze dropped embarrassed. He didn't want to appear
ungrateful. But this position was simply not what he had
always dreamed of. Being a member of Star Fleet's
engineering corps was certainly an honour, no doubt. But
also it was a bit of a trap. He would be member of the corps,
but due to his age would not have equal rights. The pecking
order was clear and set. They would let him do all the
routine work and keep the interesting tasks to themselves.
As much as he appreciated Commodore Kastor as his good,
trustworthy mentor, he would do anything to be re-assigned
to a ship. Some ship. Any ship. A garbage hauler would be
better than being stuck at Star Fleet HQ. The engineer
sighed wistfully.

"I'd rather do more hands-on work than evaluate tables of
data or optimise redundant processes. It is dull."

"Kastor would say: Why waste your skills, Ensign. You're meant
for the more sophisticated tasks."

"And I say, why am I not allowed to do the things I was
trained for?"

"Because you're better than that."

Montie winced. This truly stung him, piercing right through
his Celtic heart. "There is no reason to ground good people.
They don't believe in me, lass. They dinna think I can do
it."

Within a heartbeat her lips brushed his consolingly.
"Nonsense. They trust you to be the best in the position
you're in. Why don't you let some time pass and see how you
like it then?"

Scott only growled while retreating to the bathroom. Several
moments later he returned looking fresh and dapper in his
new uniform.

"Where are you going?" Madeleine asked, surprised.

"Head Quarters. I'll skim through the office a bit, see if I
can find tasks that are more interesting. Don't worry, dear.
I'll be at the platform to wave you good bye from the
promenade when you're leaving."

Breathing only a quick peck onto her lips, Scott rushed out
to leave a sceptical looking wife behind.

---

His shape had barely taken form on the transporter pad when
he shoved himself forward with a determined quick stride.
In his obsessed mind he was already nagging, how could it be
that transmitter technology was still so underdeveloped that
the distance from HQ to Earth was the furthest distance it
could master.

"Pathetic!" he grumbled bad-tempered and rounded the first
corner on his way to Kastor's office. The Commodore would
not be in, of course, for it was his day off. But, as his
personal assistant, Scott enjoyed full access, at least in
this part of HQ. How he wished he could extend that to the
Space Docks on the other side of the station with one
finger-snip. He'd love to roam the docks, unobserved, free
to do whatever he wanted...

So far he'd only had the chance of darting one quick glance
at this tremendous Constitution Class vessel which was being
put together in Building Dock 9. Kastor had taken him along
on a brief tour once. Scotty's heart longed for a return
ever since. But so far this big yellow sign saying
"Authorised personnel only" prevented his dream. Oh, she was
hardly more than a skeleton in her current state. What a way
of meeting a grand lady for the first time. But she was
truly something else. She was to be a beauty, no doubt.

Suddenly a soft smile took over his boyish features. A
passionate sparkle glinted in his eye. She wasn't even named
yet, but the young engineer could not ignore her calls.
Promptly he stopped dead in his tracks. He had just decided
to hop onto the next DLR shuttle going to the docks.

Sure enough, there was still plenty of time until
Madeleine's departure. Yet he certainly could find some
interesting activity to fill the gap, provided his wicked
mind figured out a way to grant him access to a strictly
prohibited area.

---

All the way up to Star Fleet's tremendous space station
Montgomery had worked his brains. Now he sauntered
innocently down the hallway towards this much hated yellow
sign.

"Authorise me, damn you," he growled displeased. "How can I
get autho..." Something had suddenly come to his attention.
A sickly looking, pale technician had just stumbled through
the gate, now resting with his back up against the wall.

Scott grinned smugly. "Hello there! Can I help?"

The poor creature looked up with a pained expression.
"Hardly," he pressed. "Vomit bug. Nasty stuff. Oooh..."

"Oh no!" Scott tried his best to sound convincingly worried.
"Good man, you should report to sickbay on the double. Your
face is green, I swear. Here let me help."

The other man fought his hands off annoyed. "I'm fine. I
uh...I think I'll call sickbay."

"Sit!" Scotty ordered sternly. "I'm going to do that for
you. Tell me, what's your name?"

"Finnegan."

"Well, Finnegan it is. Are we a bit Irish by any chance?"

"No, I'm from Mars Colony. My name is Toby – Tobias."

"Ha!" Ensign Scott yelled out in triumph, then quickly
slipped back into his part of the holy Samaritan. He made a
quick call to sickbay, then chortled rather pleased, "Tobias
Finnegan, well well. Your doctor is on the way. It will take
no more than 15 minutes. Get well soon, but not too soon."

"What?"

"Get some rest, good man. Your face is really green."

"I feel horrible."

"Excellent!" Wild euphoria glinted in Scotty's eyes as he
dashed over to push Finnegan's ID chip into the slit.

"Authorised" a mechanic voice blurted. Then the gate to
wonderland opened.

"Why thank ye, love," the engineer responded smilingly as he
boldly stepped inside. Granted, stealing an ID chip wasn't a
gentlemanly thing to do, but this was simply something he'd had
to do. "Your chance of a lifetime to see her again,
Montgomery," the Scotsman told himself, muttering beneath
his breath. "And yer not gonny miss out on that."

With quick strides he proceeded over to the lockers, opened
the one designated for T. Finnegan and got into a dirty
white hard suit. Then with all the swagger one could manage
in such a suit Montie Scott marched out to cross the ramp leading
to the most enchanting space vessel of all.

"What a ship!" he admired her open-mouthed, standing there
on her large saucer section. He simply could not believe the
size of her two warp nacelles. His chin dropped all the way
to his chest in wondrous admiration.  Meanwhile, all around
him, light flared up and tiny sparks shot around as hard
working men poured their sweat into creating his very dream.
Scotty's grin grew even wider.

He wanted to do nothing but participate in this godly act.
"What a beauty!"

Man-made, his mind realised, awed. Hand-made, she was. Then
he glumly looked at his own pair of gloves. And what was he
doing with his hands? Serving the big bums of big bums by
helping to optimise some very unimportant information relay
processes in HQ. He had not suffered through meta-physics
under Vulcan Dr. St'lur to be bothered with useless
information processes, Scott cursed. Great was the wish to
simply reach out and touch one of those warp nacelles. If
only he could get a little bit closer.

"FINNEGAN!!!" a demanding bass voice called him over, coming
from right there where he desired to go.

Yes, Scott told himself, he knew he wasn't Finnegan, he knew
his cover might be blown if he responded, he knew he might
get in trouble for this but his wilful feet simply took him
there, into the heart of a grand lady.

"Aye Sir!" he barked in a deep voice, determined not to show
his true age.

The other man rose from his work in surprise, standing to
his full height of 6 feet. "Whoa Toby! You suddenly sound
like a real man. Feeling better, hmmm. Then get back to work
you, lazy arse! We're way behind our schedule. The Enterprise
is supposed to leave this docking bay in eighteen months."

"Enterprise," Scotty mumbled bewitched, then grabbed his
tools in a flash of make-do-spirit. "Aye Sir! She'll be
leaving in twelve months."

"Huh? Man, I tell ya, I like this new attitude much better.
Carry on."

True joy and pride played around Scotty's mouth as he joined
this army of skilled workers. With every bolt he set, every
piece of metal he fitted in, every relay he laid out his
euphoria increased until it was finally time to remember
that his part here was only a guest role. So the Scotsman
quickly cleaned up after himself and strode back to the
lockers outside, got changed and quietly slipped out into
the hallway, stealing himself away from this crime scene
with a pleased chuckle on his lips. He'd have to have a word
with this Finnegan about shifting work shifts. Work less,
earn the same. Could a true Colonist heart say no to that?
Scotty grinned. Probably not. And only a complete madman
would offer such a thing.

"Aye so I'm mad. By all means, I am crazy about this ship."

How cruel that the wide windows in this hallway would not
show Docking Bay 9. But due to unbelievable luck, today,
he'd gotten closer to her than he had ever hoped for. That
would have to do for a while, Scott mused grinning and
sauntered over to the promenade deck.

Only when his glazed eyes accidentally swayed over to the
chronometer on the wall, he winced. Could it really be that
late? There was no more time to waste day-dreaming along the
rounded hallways. He was going to miss Madeleine's
departure! He'd promised to wave good-bye from the
promenade. Frantically, Scotty ran up a short flight of
stairs in such a hurry that he promptly tripped over his own
feet.

"Watch it!" somebody yelled out as Scott struggled to regain
his balance.

The engineer's cheeks glowed in shame. Tripping up the
stairs always looked so stupid. "Sorry," he mumbled dazed,
pulling away from the stranger to continue his run.

"Yeah, better watch your step before you land yourself in my
ward."

The engineer stopped for a second. Ward? "What ward?" He had
not yet actively taken notice of the medical uniform in
front of him nor of the intense blue-eyed glare. But did he
actually have time for this?

"Yeah, bone fractures," the other man replied.

Forcefully Ensign Scott shook himself out of his confusion.
"Bones, eh? See ye later, Bones." With a start he shook his
daze off to take up his run again. He had no time for bones,
dashing over to the front of the promenade just in time to
catch a glance at the disappointed look on Madeleine's face
before she boarded her shuttle. The engineer cried inwardly.
How he hated himself at this moment. Madeleine! No! Would
she ever forgive him that?

---

After another long night of little sleep due to a heavy
heart so full of guilt, Ensign Scott dragged himself into
the office. There had been too many such nights lately. It
eroded the patience he lacked anyway. Uncharacteristically
he ignored the Commodore's receptionist and took his place
on the far right of the room behind a cold, much hated desk
that was as loaded with stacks of data-chips as ever.

The Scotsman sighed at his blank computer terminal, gazing
at it as if it could answer his troubled self.
Surprisingly the computer chose to remain silent. No ideas?
None at all? Another sigh. Frustrated, Scott slapped his
screen away, which earned him a nasty glare from the cool,
pointed face of the Vulcan receptionist. This time he
ignored her deliberately. Nervously the engineer's fingers
drummed on the desk surface. He had sent message after
message to Madeleine, all with the same result: no response.
Complete silence on her end. Was she too busy? Probably. Was
she disgusted with him? Much more likely.

Ensign Scott was just about to collapse into a puddle of
misery when the gruff voice of Commodore Kastor ordered him
into his office: "On the double!"

Surprised, the Scotsman rose from his seat to rush over to
Kastor's transparent cubicle. Once inside, the glass walls
went gradually darker to shut them off from curious eyes.
Two men greeted him with a brief nod and stern glares. One
was the Commodore himself, a respectable, tall figure and
the other man was Admiral DeVol, the short, stout Chief of
Operations on Star Fleet HQ.

"Yes Sir?" Puzzled, Scotty looked from one man to the other.

"Scott, I think you should know this," Rainer Kastor spoke
up with an unreadable expression on his sharp features. He
was casually leaning against his neat table, his arms
crossed before his chest. The more rotund Admiral stood
next to him, appearing satisfied as his black, beady eyes
glinted greedily. Kastor exhaled deeply, then announced,
"The Admiral and I just agreed that recent turbulent moments
could have been avoided, if not for a very inexperienced and
obstinate assistant in my staff. I reckon you know what that
means."

DeVol's dark gaze flared up in delight. His broad mouth
formed a wolfish grin. He had hated Montgomery with outright
passion from the first moment on. Whereas the Scotsman had
met every stinging remark with sharp, quick-tempered
dismissals that had earned him so many rebukes from Kastor
recently. Scotty sighed with inward relief. So finally
something was going to change. DeVol had won their feud and
now Kastor would have to send his impertinent little ensign
on a new assignment, hopefully a ship. Good! Montie had to
bite back a smug grin to look appropriately downcast.

"It means that I will have to do something with you, young
man."

Thank you! Scott prepared himself to meet his fate with
grace. As if he wasn't applauding and jubilating in his
mind.

"I will have to promote you."

"Uh...what?" Scott was dumbfounded.

"We will promote you to Lieutenant junior grade. Scott, you
are full of potential and not a little convinced of yourself.
Well, I think we shall challenge you a bit harder from now
on. A promotion also means more responsibility for you. I'm
sure the Admiral agrees with me that this will also help to
resolve any tensions you happen to have with fellow
officers. No doubt you will manage. You're a quick learner.
As far as your irritable temper is concerned, from now on,
officer, I don't want to see too much of it. Is that clear?"

Scott swayed in shock. "Uh..." Only now he realised how
DeVol too stood there open-mouthed, glaring in sheer
disbelief. Obviously promotion had not been his idea of how
to handle this troubled child under his command at all. But
as it looked Commodore Kastor had smartly out-maneuvered the
Chief of Operations.

"Congratulations, Scott!" Kastor said with an untypical
bright smile that confused the young engineer even more.

He remained stiff with no words of either joy nor doubt
coming from his lips. This whole scenario felt like watching
a comedy on the TriVid screen. This could not possibly be
his life! He truly wanted to break down and cry and laugh
madly all at the same time, but the aggressive smile on the
Commodore's face demanded full co-operation as well as a
display of more enthusiasm.

Puzzled, Scott finally abandoned his resistance to grab and
shake Kastor's hand. Even DeVol was startled enough to keep
shaking his hand in utter shock until the Admiral was
politely ushered out of the Commodore's office with a few
quick empty phrases.

"Uh..." still clueless, Montgomery looked after the
retreating back of the Admiral. He inwardly prepared himself
for a few clarifying words that had to follow, but as soon
as the door slid shut a roll of paper was promptly smacked
over his head from behind, one, two, three times to make a
point. When Scott finally had the sense to duck, no more
blows followed. Instead, Kastor let himself fall into his
chair, throwing his arms over his head in a gesture of
despair.

"Stupid bastard!" the older man with the sharp features
yelled enraged, threatening Scott again with the rolled up
engineering schematics, holding it like a baseball bat. "I
told you to stop this private little war. He's a powerful
man. He's only been waiting for you to give him a reason to
kick your butt out of Star Fleet. Had I not intervened right
now, he'd had the board of hearing convinced that you're
unable to control yourself in any way an officer should and
should therefore not be allowed to serve in this Fleet as
anything but an inmate in New Tantalon. Sit down boy, we
need to talk."

Scott's mouth dropped again while he numbly slid into the
seat offered to him. For a long moment Kastor's grey gaze
cursed him god-knows-what over the table, but the man forced
himself to remain seemingly calm on the surface. Scotty
swallowed hard. "Oh. There was a hearing? About me?"

"Exactly. About you and what a potential danger to yourself
as well as others you could be. Come to think of it...you
might as well be just that if you go on like this. Initially
we came together to discuss your completely uncontrolled
outbursts, as well as your reluctance to take orders from
anybody. Why, then DeVol dropped the bomb when he began to
talk about your interesting connection to the recent spy
hunt. Can you imagine how gutted I was?" Kastor growled.

"Spy hunt?! I wasn't aware of any spy hunt going on."

"Wouldn't be Star Fleet Intelligence if they gave you a
chance to be aware of them. You've been under observation
for several weeks, dear boy. Thank goodness the only thing
they observed was that you work significantly more hours
than you put into your report. Also you seem to have trouble
to find your desk at times. Looks as if on occasion that
causes you to go on unplanned DLR rides, where you then stumble
into restricted areas and steal other people's work dress,
and their job. Or should I say borrow? The crew of Building
Dock 9 have been wondering why a certain Mr. Finnegan is
suddenly willing to work overtime so much. Very
interesting."

"Oh" Scotty sank deeper into his seat as he realised the
connection to his little trips to the space docks. Then a
cold chill ran down his back. Not only had he broken rules,
he had gotten his loyal commander, Commodore Kastor, the one
man who had been so good to him in the past, in trouble too.
Genuine shame brought eight shades of red to his face. "Oh"

"Yes you said that before. And that is all I want to hear
from you about your small adventures up there in the docks.
I know the rest anyway. Just for the record, stealing an ID
chip by itself is already a severe failure. Copying it and using
it to have multiple access to restricted areas that are restricted
for good reasons is not exactly a prank."

"Aye Sir."

"Fortunately, I managed to convince everybody on the board
of this hearing how this talented young man only picked up
the chip by accident when somebody else lost it. Somehow,
though, he forgot to return it, remembered it again later
and made a security back-up for the owner on a blank chip in
case he loses it again. To top all this, he undertook further
efforts in covering the failure of a poor technician when he
also did that man's work every now and again, far better
than this man would have ever done it. For all this hard
work and display of outstanding compassion towards others
and sense of duty, dear members of this board, does Ensign
Scott not deserve a promotion?"

"Oh" Scotty squinted impressed. "Oh my..."

"Well? Do I deserve an Oscar for that, Scott? In case a
youngling like yourself knows what that is?"

"Oscar?" He blinked startled, then quickly remembered to say
the always appropriate "Sir, aye, Sir. That you do. Thank
you, Sir."

"Three Sirs in a row... Well, you're learning. But let's not
lose sight of the one and only important fact here. Son, I
am disgusted with you!"

"I know, Sir," Scotty replied quickly, not daring to meet
Kastor's eyes.

"So you know...Well, well. A quick promotion seemed the best
way to solve this problem, since I'm not willing to give you
up to some prison colony. Make no mistake about this, Scott.
Don't think you can mess with me in that manner ever again.
This is your last chance, definitely. Back to work now,
Lieutenant."

"Yes Sir. I..."

"Out!"

"Sir I..."

"Out!"

"But Commodore..."

"OUT!"

"Aye Sir." Numbly Scotty staggered back to his desk. So he
had gotten away with a so-called black eye and a promotion.
But the situation was still not what he wanted it to be.
Absent-mindedly he pulled his screen over. "Never what you
want it to be," he grumbled dissatisfied. Moments later an
irritating buzz announced a caller, again and again.

"Scott! Are you deaf? Respond to your com!" somebody barked
at him.

"Not deaf," he muttered. "Just stupid. Stupid is the word.
I'll be more stupid from now on, if this is the way to get
me out of this crowded rat lab." Finally his forefinger
reached out to press the button. "Aye!" he barked irritably.

"Could you try to sound a little bit more friendly for your
long-lost wife who almost got herself killed on a desert planet
when they invited us to a harmless training trip?"

Stunned, he stiffened in his chair. "Madeleine?" A bright
smile lit up his broad face. How he had missed that voice.
"Madeleine! Oh Mads, let me hear your bonny, sweet voice
again. Is this really you, Darling?" He did not care that
the whole office was lending an ear to his private
conversation. "Tell me what happened, Mads? Are you well?"

"Yes, I'm fine, sweetheart. I miss you, but otherwise...Well,
I was attacked by a sandshark; managed to get away though.
Have you ever seen a sandshark, Scotty?"

He laughed. "By all gods, no. Did you get hurt, love?" Pain
stabbed his heart. He would die if she had only suffered so
much as a paper cut.

"No sweetie. I'm fine. Sam was there. He saved me. Don't
worry. I'll be back with you soon. I love you. Bye!"

Grinning happily Scotty chortled "Bye now!" and cut the
line. Only minutes later he found himself wondering out
loud, "Who the hell is Sam?"

---

A nervous young man stood waiting on the platform with a
flower bouquet that was almost bigger than himself. In a
small ritual of preparation he had brushed his black bangs
back, pulled at his collar and straightened his shoulders.
The shuttle had set down, the engines were turned off now and
the ramp came down far too slow for all his impatience.
Scotty cursed beneath his breath.

"Madeleine, oh Madeleine," he whispered her name again and
again, like a prayer.

Finally her familiar lean face appeared in the small crowd,
moving along the gate towards him. For a moment it seemed as
if somebody walking beside her had his arm around her
shoulder, but then Scotty's vision was blocked by the crowd
in front of him. He sighed, annoyed. He squeezed past
over-joyed, waiting parents, eager  to be able to welcome his
wife back, being all the family she had ever had since her elder
sister had left with the USS Farragut. Smartly, he
positioned himself to be seen. By the time his sharp eyes
caught sight of her again, Madeleine was still shuffling
over the gate along with others, stretching her long neck
obviously looking for him. Eventually her gaze met his and
she laughed at the overwhelming, flowery display of
affection in his hands. The last few meters she ran to him.

It was hard to believe how warm she felt, lying in his
embrace. "I love you, Mads," he whispered against her auburn
hair. She had pulled it back into a Star Fleet Fashion knot.

"I love you," she replied, her eyes glinting softly. Gently
her petite hands grabbed his face. "I love you, Lieutenant.
Congratulations by the way. I'm proud of you."

"No," he sighed, shaking his head at her. "I'm proud of
you."

They just stood there smiling at each other in fuzzy
happiness for a long while until an unfamiliar fellow about
their own age with an athletic build and sandy hair
sauntered over to them to squeeze Madeleine's arm.

"Scotty," she said quickly, sounding strangely excited now.
"This is the man who was our pilot on the trip, taking us to
all our training locations. This is Sam Kirk. Sam, this is
Scotty, my husband."

"Hello," Kirk greeted him with a winning, easygoing smile.
"Well, I've got to be going now. I promised my little
brother a hovercraft ride up the Rockies. He's been waiting
so long for this, sorry. Take care!"

Scott responded with a quick nod. Sam Kirk, hmh, he was
going to remember that name. So this was Sam, not good. He
frowned slightly, but tried not to show his resentment.
Suddenly he felt betrayed without knowing why. Madeleine had
been in danger and he had not been allowed to be there to
protect her. Instead, another man had saved her life. Scotty
pondered thunderous thoughts while silently walking
Madeleine over to the transporter platform arm in arm. What
scared him most was the sneaking jealousy he felt all because
she had had all the adventures in six weeks that he had
always dreamed of since he was a wee lad being bounced on
his legendary grandfather's knee.

And yet, here, Madeleine and pilot Sam Kirk and some of
those brilliant, strapping, handsome Ensigns who had always
looked down at him at the Academy came back telling such
wonderful tales of excitement. Suddenly his stomach turned
sour. Scotty clenched his fist, looking away to spare her
the deep cutting sneer on his face. It wasn't even aimed at
her or Kirk, just at this injustice. Why had Star Fleet
decided to make him a sissy with a desk job when all he
wanted was to be out there – doing that?

---

Many Moons had passed since Madeleine's return to Earth when
the dimmed light announced night time in the enormous space
station, known as Star Fleet HQ. Two lovers silently watched
sparkling stars through the wide glass of a panorama window
on the promenade deck. Merely exposed by the weak twilight
of the moon and the glinting stars that only existed to bear
witness to all their gentle love whispers, as they lay
bedded comfortable on one of the many sofas, Montie held
Madeleine tighter in his embrace, cradling her as if she
was a fragile figure in his arms. Yet, he couldn't help but
notice the change in her. There was nothing fragile about
this woman. She was a bundle of tensed muscles, feeling
smooth but wild. Lost in dark thoughts, his hand continued to
stroke up and down her back almost indifferently now while
they vainly lay to catch a moonlight tan.

"Are you yearning for the stars again?" Madeleine inquired
suddenly.

"Hm? Why?" Scotty replied without taking his eyes off the
moon's shape. He had tried to repossess her madly for the
past few weeks and had acknowledged, eventually, that she
was not his any more. He knew his heart should be filled
with pain, tearing apart. Yet, it was still so numb. She had
never even whispered a word about it to him.

"Because you're so quiet tonight, and absent. You're always
wishing to go out there when you look like that."

He chuckled in mild surprise. "Think you know me so well, do
you, wee lamb?" Scott frowned as he realised how much the
tense tone of his own voice reminded him of his evil
tempered father.

"I should, silly man. I'm your wife."

"So you bear that in mind."

With a disapproving snort, Madeleine sat up. "What is that
supposed to mean? I would fine like to know what this all
new patronising, sarcastic, macho attitude of yours is doing
between us. I don't like it. This is not like the sweet boy
I met in the Academy. And, by the way, when did I give you
permission to shave off your moustache?"

Scotty grunted. "It took you a long time to notice that."

Abruptly Madeleine rose from their lair, went over to the
railing and silently stared out into the deep blackness of
space. The engineer could see her muscles tighten with
tension, as her whole back went stiff with suppressed anger.
She was upset, but he could spare little sympathy. He had
been upset for many days, weeks in fact, knowing what she
could not bring herself to tell him. Then, finally Madeline
turned to face him with new anger arising in her big,
disappointed eyes. "Sometimes I can't believe it's you that
is talking to me. Ever since they promoted you, you treat me
like an insect."

From one moment to the next, his heart turned into a cold
slab of stone. The lines around his mouth hardened
instantly, his features went dark, gloomy as he glared back,
unrelenting in his soaring resentment.

Startled, Madeleine shook her head. "What is happening here?
We were so in love, we..."

"No," he cut her off, his firm voice slicing the empty air
between them into a million partitions.

"What?"

"No," Scotty replied, his voice vibrating with barely
withheld rage. "We were no' in love. I did no' feel any love
from you tonight or the night before, or many other nights
before. I know why, Mads. I know."

Madeleine gaped open-mouthed, helpless, never even trying
to fight back her tears. Her mouth trembled, but she only
asked. "Why?"

"Why? Aye, that is a good question. I ask you, dear. Why did
you? Because he was there? Or was because I was no' there?"

"Scotty, please understand...," she pleaded while visibly
confused.

"S' all right, I reckon. You don't need anybody. Me, the
least. You went at great length to show me that, so it must
be true," he carried on with more bitterness, "I overheard
this pretty-boy of yours, Sam Kirk, bragging in the
dock-side cafeteria a wee while ago. Want to know what he
said? He said, what Madeleine Bourgeouis needs is a good
romp with a real man. So I suppose you had a romp with a so
called real man on Wildcat."

"Oh no, Scotty. You can't be as crazy to believe... Can't you
see..."

The engineer held his hand up. "Please," he said, suddenly
gentle, too polite, his words dripping with cold sarcasm as
he rose from the sofa. "Let's not waste time with
explanations. Explanations are so expendable."

"Stop it!" she yelled into his face.

"You bloody lied to me!" he yelled back enraged and marched
across the promenade, his face flushed, his cheeks burning
from both anger and shame. He simply kept going, ignoring
all of Madeleine's pleas to stay and talk it over. He
eventually reached the hallway, not knowing where he was
running to, only trying to get away from her. Confused,
Montgomery came to a halt, taking in a deep breath as her
hand finally caught on to his sleeve. He was almost relieved
that she stopped him. Stubbornly, the young woman spun him
around, forcing him to look straight into her eyes.

"Can't you see?" Madeleine begged again.

"My love," this time he spoke up slowly, choosing his words
with consideration. He took his time to formulate what
needed to be said. And this time did not forget to lower his
voice, only for her to hear his vulnerable love. "Maybe I
should end this right here, right now. If I were only half
the man he is, I would certainly do that. Because you are
nothing more than an insignificant brief encounter in his
life, I hope you know that."

"Scotty, please understand."

"Lass, I hope you know that you mean so much more to me. I
love you, Mads. I always loved you. And if I failed to show
you that then please forgive me. We're all no' infallible, my
lamb-" He gave her a meaningful look. "I don't expect you to
be flawless or super-human or even to be faithful for that
matter. But I want honesty. I want respect."

"Scotty..."

"Need me, Madeleine. How can I be there for you if you don't
even need me."

"I'm not a little girl, Scotty."

"And I'm no' a wee lad. I could have fought that sandshark
on Wildcat too. I would have killed such a beast with me
bare hands. You know I would."

Suddenly Madeleine smiled. "No doubting that. You are also
mad enough to go nose to snoot with it without a phaser. I'm
glad you weren't there. You are the one man in this world I
would not want to lose. You know that Scotty, don't you?"

Still breathing heavily, he allowed her to come closer until
her hair brushed over his cheek in the softest caress.
Eventually her lips began to nibble on his mouth. Feverishly,
he welcomed her.

"Aye. I woulda punched this monster's snoot had he the
courage to come here and fight with me. The shark, no' Kirk.
Kirk had the courage, but security pulled us apart."

She sighed happily. "Scotty, forget Sam Kirk, I've forgotten
him long ago. I wasn't even tempted by the idea. Really, I
wasn't. What would I do with a crazy pilot when I have such
a mad Lieutenant?"

"Aye. And for your information dearest lass, I'm madder than
any Kirk can ever be."

Madeleine laughed relieved. "Well, you said that. I didn't."

---

Seated in one of the typical octagon rooms of Star Fleet HQ,
a man in his late forties quietly observed what he was
inclined to call a farce. The poor creature in the middle
was his godchild, currently under fire or under charges for
having failed to behave as an officer should. His sharp grey
eyes continued to take in the scene that reminded him
painfully of a court room while Deo McClellen at the same
time reminded the elder man seated next to him with the rank
of Captain, "It's no' a court, Ramsay. It's only a
disciplinary hearing. They can't send him to prison. Now sit
still."

The bearded, silver-haired gentleman protested with a
grizzly growl. "Since when am I taking orders from you,
Commander?"

"Sit! You won't help the lad by irritating the jury."

"But he's my lad, my grandson! He's in trouble only for
striking a stinking canal rat, the stinking, illegitimate
offspring of a half- witted no account and his female
relative!"

"Ramsay, I'm begging you! Montie will be in greater trouble
if you interrupt this hearing with your talk. Quiet, sit
down now. Wouldn't surprise me if you walked over to strike
DeVol a second time yourself."

Finally the older gentleman relented, quietly slipping back
into his seat, but could not keep himself from muttering, "Oh
you bet I would fine like to do just that. I've knocked cold
bigger farts in my day."

Deo sighed. "Aye," he breathed exhausted. "Quick temper
seems to run in your family. Now let's hear how this is going
to turn out for our Montie. He looks worried, doesn't he?"

"He looks like me," Ramsay growled. "Everybody tells me so."

---

Exhausted from the long hearing, Lt. Junior grade Montgomery
Ramsay Scott dragged himself up to stand, straightened his
shoulders, pushed his chest out and set his stubborn chin to
hear his fate. This hearing had lasted unexpectedly long for
such a simple matter.

He had expected far less formality for a mere run in with a
Scott's fist. No really, what great things needed to be
discussed? Remembering the unfortunate moment a few days
ago, he would have gladly told everybody in this room how
Admiral DeVol was a bleeding arrogant bloodworm who had
insulted Montie's mentor, Commodore Kastor, a good, honest
man in the worst way. And that he, Montgomery Scott, had
punched the Admiral's nose for that. Fine, most officers
thought ten times before hitting an Admiral, but Scott had
not even stopped to think one time before doing it. Did he
regret it? No. Unfortunately no one here had been interested
to hear that part of the story. Scotty sighed inwardly.

The unmoving crowd attending this hearing had only stirred
once, when Captain Ramsay Scott had jumped out of his seat
and grumbled something like " illegitimate offspring of a
half-witted no account and his female relative" while
glowering at DeVol. That had somewhat amused Montgomery,
inappropriate as it may be. Then Uncle Deo had shushed the
upset man back into his place. At the moment, Scotty could
feel his grandfather's and his godfather's observant eyes on
him. The first was clearly proud, the latter not so. In fact,
Deo looked grouchy. The young engineer would have loved to
wink at them reassuringly, but the situation forbade. The
only thing he could be sure of as of this moment was that
his hind-sector was to be grilled. If even Kastor was
visibly nervous, then this was not a good sign.

"Lt. Scott, I hope you are aware of how severe your actions
against a higher ranking officer were," Admiral Konstantin
spoke up.

Scotty wanted to scream, "But I was right!"

"A physical attack of the worst kind..."

The engineer rolled his eyes; this was indeed dragging on.
Konstantin kept repeating himself. Well, if had it really been
an attack of the worst kind, then how would they rate an
incident where I tried to put a sonic screwdriver through
the man's head, he mused. It was a rather favourable fantasy
this moment. At the same time, Ramsay looked suspiciously
like he was playing with just that idea. But that was old
Ramsay, Scotty knew, evil to the bone, at least for the
show. Not that his grandfather could ever hold his promises
of vengeance. Oh, he'd always been good throwing punches in
bar fights, giving skelpings to cheeky grandsons, but those
threats were only for the show.

"It must be clear to you," Konstantin added in his jolting
voice, "that the  consequences will be severe also. We can not
turn a blind eye on this kind of behaviour."

Thank you, Scotty thought. I was still right!

"Then why didn't that fat owl just get up like a man and hit
back?" Ramsay suddenly blurted, half-way out of his seat
again.

Trapped in his place as a guilty goat before an observant
jury, Scotty had to pretend a coughing fit to conceal his
bemusement. Although there would be nothing funny about the
end of this hearing, no doubting that. After Deo had finally
managed to drag Ramsay back into his seat Admiral Konstantin
announced the punishment. Fine, Scott thought, nobody would
go to a prison colony for merely striking another officer,
even if it was an Admiral, but they would probably degrade
him, which wouldn't bother him the least...Hopefully they
were going to remove him from his current position.
Hopefully they were going to ban him, to a ship. Some ship.
Any ship. A garbage hauler would do.

"Lt. Scott, we end your current assignment to Star Fleet's
engineering Corps at HQ immediately..."

The engineer almost smiled. And send me to a ship? He dared
to hope.

"And send you to the mining Colonies of Aldeberan V as a
consulting engineer. A suitable transport will be arranged
for you as soon as possible. We are confident that you will
recognise this assignment as a last chance."

"Because, young man," Admiral DeVol spoke up unexpectedly,
"I do not want to see you flush your life down the toilet in
some bar after pouring your last bottle of Scotch down your
throat."

Scott dismissed the self-righteous display of triumph as
what it was, a bloated fart of empty air, stinking empty air
and chose to remain silent.

"Lt. you will receive further notice about your transport
within the next few days. Prepare yourself for a long time
away from home. Until your departure, you will be suspended
from duty. Dismissed!" The ever- slow Admiral Konstantin
finally released the tortured crowd.

Surprised, Scotty glared at Kastor who shrugged helplessly,
then left the room together with all other jury members.
"Aldeberan V?!" the engineer blurted. "That's a far way
away." Maybe quite a stretch from where he had desired to
go. It was a lonely outpost of the Federation, as close to
unknown territory as could be with a horrible environmental
situation. "Oh dear!" How was he going to break that to his
dear mother or to Madeleine. He would indeed be gone for a
long time. And Admiral Konstantin had said nothing about a
return, had he? Numbly Scott dropped back into his chair.
That was worse than Tantalon or any other prison colony.
That was...

...a disaster!

---

The End