Staring at Sunday's crssword puzzle, Roger Kennison pondered the clue for 63 across. Ancestry... six letters... starts with O. As his brain began to search, a seemingly unrelated picture flashed in his mind. His eyebrows went up and his mouth opened slightly. Putting his pencil down, he slowly rose to his feet. He walked over to the closet, removed the rifle case, placed it on the table and opened it. Taking the rifle out, he again examined the targeting scope, focusing on the receptacle at the top. This is no ordinary receptacle, he mused. It's design, indeed its whole configuration is like nothing I've ever seen. This bears a further look.
     Propping the rifle upright, the young lieutenant made a two-dimensional image of the receptacle. Then he returned the rifle to its case and he placed the case back on its high shelf in the closet. Next, with his computer, he cropped the image so that nothing but the receptacle would be revealed. Then he slipped the image into an envelope and left.
     Commander Halleck's residence was a ten-minute walk from Kennison's quarters. The younger officer was there in three. He pressed the door bell. Opening the door almost immediately, the solidly built, six foot tall, brown skinned, gray templed electronics warfare instructor smiled politely and said, "Ah, good morning, Mister Kennison! Just can't stay away from the learning environment, can you?"
     "As a matter of fact I can't, sir" he replied. "Good morning to you as well."
     "What's on your mind, Lieutenant?"
     "Can we go inside, sir," he asked quietly.
     "Please." the commander motioned him inside and then closed the door. "Would you like some coffee?"
     "Thank you, no. Sir, I'm going to show you something, but I need to ask you for your complete confidence and discretion."
     "Knowing you as I do, I don't think that'll be a problem."
     Kennison handed the envelope to Commander Halleck, then watched his response.
     Halleck took out the image and looked at it, lowered his brows, looked Kennison, then looked at the image again. "I don't suppose you can tell where you got this, can you?"
     "No, sir, I can't. I have a question for you though. Have you ever seen a receptacle like the one in the image."
     "No. Never. It's not of Earth, it's not of Vulcan manufacture, or Andorian, or Tellarite. I'm sure it's not Klingon either. It's a complete anomaly," he said, amazement in his voice.
     "That's what I was thinking, but I needed the benefit of your expertise. For that, sir, I'm grateful. For bothering you, I apologize."
     "You don't need to apologize," he responded with a smile, "but perhaps you can return the favor one day by answering the one question I have."
     "Your question, sir," he asked, matching his gaze.
     "Where did that receptacle come from?"
     "Good question, Commander," he replied pensively. "Good question. If ever I'm able to, I'll tell you the answer."
     Back in his quarters, Kennison disposed of the image, then picked up and flipped open his clear channel communicator.
     "Yes, Lieutenant," the male voice queried in greeting.
     "Sir, I took a closer look at the receptacle on the targeting scope. It's pretty well unique."
     "How so?"
     Lieutenant Kennison recounted what had transpired. When he finished, the male voice announced, "Halleck was the right choice and his question is pertinent: Where indeed did that receptacle come from?"
     Kennison replied, "The question is not where, sir, but when! When in time was that receptacle brought here?"
     "Good call, Lieutenant. Keep me apprised."
     "Will do, sir." Kennison put his communicator back in its niche, sat down, picked up his pencil and went to his puzzle. At 63 across, smiling, he printed the letters o-r-i-g-i-n.