Subj: DARK FRONTIER pt 1
Date: 3/27/01 6:42:58 PM Central Standard Time
From: JM Lane

James Kirk couldn't believe that Starfleet Command could actually be serious about sending the *Enterprise* all the way back to Earth-- a full fifteen parsecs out of their way--just to investigate a series of mysterious deaths and disappearances, all said to have been caused by supernatural means. Just what that means was, the Captain could not have said; he knew only that to believe in the supernatural in this day and age was the next thing to absurdity. It was a cinch that if *he* held this opinion, Spock and Bones would as well. Unfortunately, it was their duty to investigate the deaths, however they had come about, and do their best to make sure that no more lives were lost. He frankly dreaded having to brief them on the subject, but it was necessary, so he might as well get it over with. He reached for his shipwide command intercom to summon his first and Science Officer, not to mention his CMO.

"Kirk to Spock and McCoy. Report to me in my quarters immediately."

**********

"My God, Jim, has Fleet Command gone totally screwy or something?" McCoy demanded, even more exasperated than he usually was-- and that was saying something. "They're sending us fifteen parsecs out of our way to investigate some deaths and disappearances *supposedly* attributable to supernatural causes."

"They can't explain them any other way," Kirk returned. "And it's our job to see that there are no more, whatever we have to do --no matter how far-fetched and impossible we may think it is," the Captain finished.

"Haven't you got anything to say about this situation, Spock? You're usually the first to speak up," the Doctor remarked, surprised at the Vulcan's uncharacteristic reticence, even for him.

"I did not believe there was anything relevant to say," the First Officer replied coolly.

*That never stopped you before,* McCoy couldn't help thinking, but remained silent, returning his attention to Kirk. "When are we supposed to arrive at Earth, Jim?"

"At 1700 hours tomorrow," the Captain informed him. "Admiral Komack has even made reservations for us at the Collinsport Inn."

"How generous of him," McCoy returned dryly. "Where the hell is Collinsport?"

"It's in Maine, on the East Coast, about two hours' drive from the state Capitol of Bangor. I think Komack said it was fairly small, roughly 1700 population," Kirk elaborated. "It was named for the Collins family, prominent citizens of the area since the 17th century. In fact, that was when the city was founded."

"Did the Admiral give any estimation of how long it would take to accomplish the mission, Jim?" the First Officer inquired of his CO and closest friend.

"Depends on how long it takes to catch whoever's been killing people," Kirk told him.

"Or *what*ever," McCoy finished. "What if the rumors are true and the killer *is* of supernatural origin? Remember what happened with Redjac, how he not only possessed Scotty and killed all those women on Argelius II, but almost destroyed us all when he took over the ship's life-support systems."

Kirk barely suppressed a shudder at the thought. "Thank God you had that strong tranquilizer." The Captain sighed and stood up to stretch after rising from his seat at the Briefing Room table. "But all we can do now is wait and hope for the best. Good night, Bones; make sure to tell Christine to report also--and Spock, contact Security and have our best two Security people, one male, one female, report for duty as well...Dickerson, maybe, or Leslie--then Davidson, the top female Security officer."

"Yes, sir," the other two replied almost simultaneously, privately wondering just why the Captain wanted one Security officer of each gender, but figured Jim must have a good reason. He usually did. Either way, this mission was likely to prove, if not the trickiest, the most unusual (even terrifying) one they had ever been on, if even half of what the rumors said was true. Kirk could not have spoken for his two friends, but he himself was frankly *not* looking forward to this mission...not one damned bit. He would have denied it had anyone suggested it; neither could he have said just why--but he was scared at the prospect of going to Collinsport. Scared as all Hell...and getting more so by the minute.

**********

The ship arrived half an hour before they were due to beam down, as was their custom, to give the landing party time to assemble and retrieve any needed equipment before transporting down to the Inn.

The Transporter Chief had been given the coordinates which would put them just outside the aforementioned establishment. All they had to do then was walk up a short flight of stairs and inside, then automatic doors would open to admit them.

Spock and the Security people, Andrew Dickerson and Elaine "Lani" Davidson, as she was known to her friends, were patiently waiting for the rest of the party to arrive. They didn't have long to wait. Kirk came in first, followed by the two Medical Officers, McCoy and Christine. All carried travel bags and the latter two medical paraphernalia, including medikits and tricorders.

"Well, Bones, are you ready?" Kirk asked as everyone assembled on the transporter platform prior to beaming down.

"No, but you wouldn't let that stop you," McCoy groused. "Besides, somebody's got to go and keep a medical eye on you, what with your and Spock's penchant for going in where angels fear to tread."

"Stay here, then. Christine can look after us."

"Not even Christine could handle you two alone," the CMO retorted. A moment later, before Kirk had time to draw breath for a reply, the six members of the party dissolved into gold shimmers and were gone.

**********

They materialized in front of a building which looked as though it had been plucked directly out of the 19th century. A fancy wooden scrolled sign painted in green and gold with "Collinsport Inn" depicted in black Old English lettering hung on two hooks on a wooden pole with a curved beam sticking out over a green, well-tended lawn. The sun was well down and the shadows beginning to lengthen as the party made their way up the short stairway to the door.

As they stepped inside, Christine saw a tall, dark and ruggedly attractive man in a dark, high-collared, tiered and floor-length
cloak standing nearby. What little she could see of his clothing otherwise was a well-tailored navy blue or black suit and tie with a white shirt. She then turned back to follow the others to the desk for check-in. As they reached it, a warm, pleasant and cultured male voice with a touch of a British accent spoke to her.

"That suitcase looks heavy, my dear. Will you allow me to assist you?"

She looked up at him; his eyes were a warm brown and he had a sallow, almost olive complexion, similar to Spock's. The bangs of his black hair were situated in several points slanted across his forehead.

"It's very kind of you to ask, but I can handle it," Christine said with a smile. She didn't notice Spock turning his head in her direction and raising one questioning eyebrow before turning away again.

"Please. It's no trouble, I assure you." The newcomer took the suitcase and carried it to where the rest of the *Enterprise* party's luggage was. This time the entire group gave her a funny look; Christine shrugged and smiled apologetically.

"Thank you...uh..." Her voice trailed off.

"My name is Collins. Barnabas Collins. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear lady. And your name is...?"

"Christine Chapel," she supplied. "Good evening, Mr. Collins. I'm Assistant Chief Medical Officer on the U.S.S. *Enterprise*, and these are my shipmates." She introduced her new acquaintance to the others, then turned to follow them as they started for the elevator.

The inside of the building was every bit as old-fashioned-looking as the outside, but something told her that the Inn must have all the current modern conveniences or else it could not have stayed in business for so long.

Barnabas called to her. "Might I not spend some time with you while you're here?"

"Your invitation is appreciated, Mr. Collins, but I'm afraid we're going to be very busy," Christine told him politely but firmly. "We're here to find out who's behind all the recent killings and disappearances."

"Call me Barnabas," he told her. "Besides, I highly doubt that you will be occupied with your mission 24 hours a day."

That put her off-guard, if only for a moment--a lapse which Barnabas took full advantage of. He met her blue eyes, as beautiful as those of many of his lost loves, including Josette, with his own.

Christine found his eyes as compelling and hypnotic as Spock's; one could easily drown in their fathomless depths without trying. She found herself giving into him against her better judgment.

"What did you have in mind...Barnabas?" she asked.

"Dinner, perhaps, or a show? There is an excellent movie house just down the street. I would be honored to escort you."

"What's playing?"

He named a current favorite of hers--surely just a coincidence, but a favorite, nonetheless. Christine smiled and nodded. "I'll see what I can do. However, I doubt that the Captain will let me go without one of our Security people along as a precaution."

Barnabas smiled, instantly attracted by her lovely smile and sparkling eyes--eyes the color of the morning sky, which he had not seen for more years than he cared to remember. "Quite understandable. One cannot be too careful, even nowadays."

"Where may I contact you to let you know one way or the other?" she inquired.

He seemed uncomfortable, even uncertain, for a moment, then said, "I am staying with a cousin at present. I'll give you his comm number." He handed her a slip of paper. "I'll be waiting for your call. Please do not disappoint me." He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. "Until later tonight, my dear."

"Christine!" the Captain called impatiently.

"I've got to go," she told him. "I'll be in touch."