Chief Medical Officer Windweaver was often weighed down by the ways of the Empire, but rarely was she so deeply hurt inside as she was when she first saw the mysterious "foundling". Recovered from the midst of a battle between Starfleet and the Cardassians, the girl was clearly an elf, but the rest of her...that was pure enigma. What could do such a thing to a person?, the Ghidorah's chief healer thought, anguished, as she examined first still images, then video footage of Science Station Pertwee's latest resident, restrained for now in an isolation chamber, behind multi-layered force-fields. Is this the work of evil hands...or the work of something so alien that our form of life means nothing to them...?

Windweaver was under orders to keep the discovery to herself, but she longed to share it with Doctor Sornal, her Vulcan partner in Sick-Bay. Your unflinching logic would be unclouded by emotion, my friend, she thought, glancing through the plasti-glass partition that separated her office from the rest of the medical facility, where Sornal was hard at work, categorising samples and replicating replacement instruments. You might see something in this poor child that I can't, blinded by my feelings...

The graceful, melancholy elf returned to her studies, even though she knew that what she was reading would only make her more sad. Initial examinations of the girl revealed that at least two kinds of alien technology had been fused to her body - one based upon highly-specialised organic components, evolved to match - and often surpass - current devices, the other more akin to known technology, but extremely refined and organised. Centuries ahead of the Empire, thought Windweaver anxiously. But which is more frightening? That which we know, yet makes us seem primitive, or that which is completely alien?

The elf was freed from her unnerving ruminations by the chirping of the intercom panel set into her desk. "The Captain wants you in Shuttle Bay One right away, Doctor", said Commander Paxton, the half-Klingon's voice making every word he said sound like a threatening snarl. "We have an unexpected guest."

"I'll be right there", she replied emptily, too emotionally drained to put on an air of indignation or any other mask that would make her fit in better with her harsh, often cruel surroundings. At least it doesn't sound like an emergency, she sighed to herself. The last thing I need right now is patients - people expecting me to be encouraging and caring...

Shuttle Bay One was one of the largest chambers on the Ghidorah, short of Main Engineering, serving as a hangar for runabouts, combat shuttles and the Captain's Yacht, yet there was still space aplenty for another runabout - the Cartwright - a craft, Windweaver was told, had come all the way from its home-base at Starbase Delacourt to catch up with the mighty starship. The doctor had heard mention of that starbase before, and the memory she needed rose to the surface of her mind the instant she went searching for it. "The Journal of Interstellar Cybernetics", she murmured to herself as crewmen boarded the Cartwright to offload case after case of equipment. "Surely it can't be..."

Two Ensigns hurried down the embarkation ramp, followed by a tall, bearded human, collar-length hair growing thin on top, anarchronistic corrective lenses in wire frames perched upon his beak-like nose. Windweaver knew this man at once - despite his unconventional appearance, he was a genius, a fact anyone could discern if they just looked through those lenses into his eyes, where sparks of intelligence danced without end.

Captain Blackfire stepped forward to greet the scientist, meeting him at the foot of the ramp."Doctor MacLaughlin", she said, before those same words could reach Windweaver's lips.

"Captain", MacLaughlin replied, in the same terse, business-like manner. He then steered the mood of the moment in an entirely different direction by taking Blackfire's hand and kissing it.

Blackfire fought the urge to recoil, expressing her disgust in other ways. ***I do so hate fur-faced humans***, she spat as she sent to Windweaver.

***I think you'll be able to tolerate this one - for his skills and knowledge, if for nothing else***, the Chief Medical Officer replied. ***I know his work. If anyone can help the girl, it's him.***

***That's not what he's coming with us for***, revealed Blackfire. ***Not directly, at least. There are no plans to remove the alien devices for the foreseeable future. We need to know how they work in place before we attempt removal.***

***You can't be serious!***, exclaimed Windweaver. ***I'd understand your attitude if this was a human, Romulan or Cardassian we were talking about, but the girl is one of us - a child of the High Ones!***

***I know***, said Blackfire coldly. ***The Empire expects sacrifices from all of us, whatever race we might belong to. If the technology in the girl can make us stronger, it is our duty - and yours - to preserve that technology, where and whatever it might be, until it can be effectively duplicated.***

Windweaver did not answer. Blackfire knew how she felt, and did not need to be reminded. Her point made, and all objections noted, the Captain returned to the task of welcoming the human scientist and unloading his vast array of equipment, including what appeared to be a portable stasis chamber, with an engineering console attached in place of a panel of medical instruments.

Dr. MacLaughlin's requirements came as something of a challenge for technical and medical staff alike, requiring the transformation of a med-lab into a hybrid of engineering and medical facility. Pride of place, of course, went to the Doctor's mysterious stasis tube, which was hoisted into placein a special cradle, replicated to MacLaughlin's rigorous specifications, before anything else was set up.

Ensign Dareen Spires, fresh out of the Acadaemy, was one of the unfortunate engineering team assigned to set up the Doctor's lab, and the task was made doubly difficult for the newcomer by MacLaughlin's constant presence and equally endless nit-picking.

"If you peruse the schematics again - and properly - Mr. Spires", said the Doctor as a display unit failed to respond, "you will perhaps learn how to connect a data-feed correctly..."

Spires kept hismelf in check with the self-control that had kept him alive throughout Academy training, and had allowed him to avoid much of the unpleasant extra-cirricular machinations that cost one trainee in seven their life. Spires immersed himself in study instead, and earned the high reward of a first posting on a Galaxy-class starship.

With MacLaughlin hovering over his shoulder, however, death seemed preferable. Whose death was another matter entirely. The Ghidorah could carry on without one Ensign, but the Doctor was vital to the mission.

Spires repolarised the custom-built connector. MacLaughlin uttered just one syllable - "Ah" - and moved away, the display how showing a start-up diagnostic screen.

The spectre of the Doctor having gone to cast its shadow elsewhere, Spires felt it was safe to sneak a look at the stasis pod. Like the connectors, the console attached to the pod was strictly non-regulation, but the Ensign could still read the displays. from what he saw, the technician could tell that some kind of computer system was interfaced with the console, and the console kept the other system in a perpetual self-testing loop. How that could be involved with a stasis tube, Spires could not fathom.

It was as he looked away from his work that the Ensign saw them - two of the small, Vulcan-like "elves" from the world known as Abode. Quickly Spires looked away, afraid of what might happen should their eyes meet. He had heard a tale that elven eyes could paralyse a man, leaving him helpless before the jaws of their wolves...

MacLaughlin had either never heard the story, or did not believe it. He descended on the elves with not one hint of apprehension, and peered through his archaic glasses as though they could shield him from anything and everything.

"Ah..."

There was that syllable again, the emphasis suggesting not grudging satisfaction as before but guarded fascination. "You are the assistants the CMO has assigned to me?"

The elf with the blonde hair responded first. "Yes, Sir. I am Lieutenant Talon. This", he gestured to his somewhat darker haired companion, "is Lieutenant Varien."

"Abodeans...", said MacLaughlin thoughtfully, stroking his beard.

"That is the designation applied to us by the Empire", said Talon, "but Abode has never truly been our home."

"Yes." The Doctor's single word said much beyond confirming he had heard what had been said or understood. The impassive delivery told all who heard it that such details, beyond MacLaughlin's field of expertise, were purely superficial to him.

The Doctor beckoned to the elves to follow, and they fell in alongside as the bearded scientist strode across the room to one of the built-in view-screens. "Join us, Mr. Spires", he said as they passed the Ensign's post. "You might learn something to augment the lamentable training Starfleet gives its officers-to-be these days. Too much killing, not enough thinking..."

Spires had caught up just as the Doctor began punching in a long and complex security code, and the Ensign had just about regained his composure as the Imperial seal vanished from the screen, signifying that the computer's security measures had been satisfied. The young technician looked up from his tunic-front just as the secret data-file - a sequence of security video - started to play.

The vidoe showed a chamber in an Empire facility, stripped clean of everything bar a single science station and an array of high-intensity force-field emitters, arranged to block off a square cell. Inside the barriers was a solitary small figure, stalking slowly around the perimeter of her prison, her hands constantly moving over the surface of the force-wall, yet never actually touching it.

"One of yours, Lieutenant Talon?", asked MacLaughlin.

The yellow-haired elf hesitated, then attempted a nod. "I...I think so", he answered, "but what's all that attached to her? Some of it looks mechanical - circuitry and armour plating - whilst the rest...the rest looks almost alive!"

"Exactly what Science Station Pertwee have determined so far - and it took you just seconds, and a few dozen words", snorted the human scientist. "Not that they have any right calling that a science station. Emptying a few holds of weapons and installing a bigger computer does not a research facility make."

"That'll be why the Ghidorah's been chosen for the mission, then - we have far better facilities than even some Starbases", added Varien.

"Not entirely", said MacLaughlin. "Part of the reason is because your kind all seem to be telepaths, and that kind of communication will surely earn us more answers than any other means of interrogation. The main part is that yours was the closest ship to me. The Empire clearly sees some value in my work at last, even if it'll just help them harvest some new technology."

The work involving the stasis pod...?, wondered Spires, but one of the elves had had the same thought, and put it into words before the Ensign.

"You've brought that work with you?", queried Talon, looking over at the cylinder, mounted on its special cradle.

"I have", MacLaughlin replied, a vague hint of pride in his voice. "Perhaps now I will find the final piece to his puzzle..."

The cyberneticist reached into the pocket of his laboratory coat, and took out a data-pad. A long bony finger stabbed one of the buttons, and the outer casing of the stasis chamber slid upwards with a hiss of hydraulic pistons and coolant boiling as it came into contact with the air. The plasti-glass beneath was clouded with condensation to begin with, and as it cleared, the pod's contents were gradually revealed.

"Let the Empire have its weapons", said MacLaughlin sullenly, and three pairs of fascinated eyes watched the revelation, "so long as I am the one to bring life to one crafted by such genius."