Literary Challenge #64: The New Frontier

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• aten66 Member Posts: 654 Arc User

  May 2014 edited May 2014

  Captain's Log
  Stardate: 91050.58
  
  After being rerouted towards Deep Space Nine, to be retrofitted with an experimental deflector dish to scan the Bajoran Wormhole with, it's been two weeks since the crew had valiantly worked to install safeties and integrate the new technology without, hopefully, causing a feedback loop that would cause the dish to short circuit when exposed to the exotic energies of the wormhole.
  
  This was a unique opportunity as well, as this was the first conjoined effort between Bajor and Cardasssia since the Dominion War and Occupation of Bajor. Top Federation Science Counsel representatives, reputed men and women from various cultures who've studied space phenomena offered their insight. The Bajoran Center scientists who've studied the wormhole on DS9. Some Cardassian scientists from the Cardassian Union Science Ministry, who've been granted the opportunity to be goodwill ambassadors, have offered what information they had gathered from old Obsidian Order and Dominion files and scans on the anomaly. This collaboration had lasted two weeks in design of the new scanners for the deflector dish, with which the Star Breaker would equip to use to scan the wormhole to see if it led anywhere else outside the Gamma Quadrant exit.
  
  Now is the time, the Engineers from DS9 say the modifications have been checked and corrected, though there was a small, but negligible, power fluctuation in the EPS conduits, it shouldn't effect the scanners. I've insisted on taking a skeleton crew, leaving the majority of my inexperienced crewman, all Lt. and below, as well as a handful of my senior officers, behind, taking Zinuzee, Gar'Atadar, and forty seven other Lt. Commander, and Commander ranked crewman, just enough to man the ship and scan the anomaly. I've warned my crew of the danger...but in case we face an unknown threat, or some catastrophe, I've set the ship to release a subspace buoy, modified with an A.I., and eject it back on course with the Alpha Quadrant exit of the wormhole. I pray I shan't have to use it.
  
  *******
  
  Wormhole's Entrance
  
  "Helm, all stop," Gregs says, "Prepare scanners for active penetration, as we enter the anomaly." The Bolian helmsman nods, and stops, while the Zinuzee prepped the sensors. "Helm, take us in, active scans as we enter," he says. The ship begins to enter the anomaly, but when the deflector touches the entrance, a bolt of unknown energy ripples towards it, attracted like a magnet, which then hits the ship.
  
  ***
  
  Deflector Control Room
  
  The lone Bajoran science officer monitoring the deflector was unaware, as he double checked the EPS conduit that kept the device stable. The moment the bolt of energy from the wormhole struck the EPS conduit exploded outwards, the concussive blast blowing the Lt. Commander clear from the shrapnel, though a few slivers of metal had wedged themselves in his leg. Sensors detected the blast, noticed the injured crewman, and activated an EMH and EEH, to both save the crewman from harm and the ship from danger.
  
  ***
  
  The wormhole reacted with the experimental systems within the ship and ripples occurred within visual range of the wormhole. Anyone watching from DS9 merely saw an energy build-up, and a bubble of light encapsulate the ship, before it was gone.
  
  *******
  
  Bridge of the Star Breaker
  
  Sensors went white when the ship was encapsulated by the strange surge in energy, and the bridge went dark, before the ship went to red alert. Crewman were bumped and bruised, serious injuries were only concussions and a few bad scrapes and cuts. "Someone, preferably Astrometrics station, tell me where we are," asked Gregs, "and get the number of that Voth city ship that hit us." A young Cardassian woman replaced the Voth crewman who was injured in the event, to access ships sensors about where we were in space.
  
  "C..c..captain, you won't believe this, b-but, we're not anywhere near the G-g-g-gamma or B-beta Quadrants," she says, turning paler than I had ever seen a Cardassian go, "We're a week at warp nine away from the outer edges of a-a g-galaxy, a day at transwarp, but I can't tell w-what g-galaxy." I put my hand to my chin, puzzled at this new information.
  
  "Set course for the fringes of this galaxy, somewhere we can get raw material to recharge from," Gregs says, "Tell me, what can you read from the galaxy we're near, any signs of life, or threats we can read from here, subspace transmissions, or ships."
  
  "Well sir, astrometrics sensors detect a slight raise in cosmic rays compared to the Milky Way, a bit higher in Delta Rays and Theta Radiation, but nothing more damaging then what our own bodies and shields can handle," the Cardassian says, "but there also seems to be an unknown energy field that would be adversely affective to non-corporal or certain energy based beings, like the Kelvans." Gregs gets up, walks around the bridge, then sits back in his chair, contemplating.
  
  "Can you discern any signals coming from any planet, any forms of subspace communication, or any signs of warp capable life in this galaxy," he asks, "Can we even identify what galaxy we are in, what galactic body we are in compared to the Milky Way?" The Lt. goes to work, compiling the star charts and data the deflector dish is getting and trying to triangulate the location of the ship with known galaxies.
  
  *****
  
  Personal Log, Captain Gregs Sharvan Son'aire.
  
  It seems by comparing know data with a theoretical model program, we have found ourselves over three hundred years away from home, in the Andromeda Galaxy. We reached an M-class planet by midnight; it had showed signs of activity in the past, but ruins that appeared recent in the past decade by deep scans taken, was all that was left of the unknown civilization.
  
  One of the more stable continents had been scanned, and revealed to have an outpost of alien design, unfamiliar, but suspiciously similar to Iconian technology, some dozen miles under the continents surface. I had sent a two man team to the surface, a gorn security officer who was to protect a human scientist who specialized in Iconian-based technology.
  
  From my personal experience at the Solanae subspace base, when I reactivated the Milky Way gateway network, the Andromeda network was found to be active when I searched the many consoles for information. Perhaps we can use this base to triangulate a space gateway we could use to get home. Hopefully unused.
  
  **** Update As of Stardate: <Redacted> ****
  
  Finding the Iconian Gateway was easy, the strange part was where it was located. The gateway was different then others found in the Milky Way; it was free from the need of a device to contain the structure, but the activation device was located in a base within an artificial planetoid, around a nearby trinary star system, a great marker because of its unusual occurrences in space, a spatial marker, if you will. Now I've set heading for the star system, a few hours away at warp nine, and I hope we can use it to get home.
  
  *******
  
  Trinary Star System- Nicknamed Andro-Tri-One
  
  The G-type binary pair, and its neighboring blue dwarf to complete the trinary, was a welcome sight, and Gregs enjoyed finding an intact planetoid just outside the gravitational pull within an established, yet artificial, orbit created by the Iconians.
  
  Gregs himself was one of the few crewman who could interface with Iconian technology, so he choose to take an away team, composing of Lt. Commander Ryers, the human science officer, Commander Tychos, a Tellarite engineer, and two security officers, a Saurian and another Human, a female security officer.
  
  Beaming into the Iconian structure, it was obvious the technology was advanced beyond the Milky Way remnants. Drones had came out to attack, similar to the Solanae drones, but different make-up and structure, and the energy type wasn't antiproton. By the time we had battled to the central control area to activate the space gateway, we had lost the Saurian officer, and the other security officer was wounded.
  
  Tychos had locked the doors behind us, and established transporter enhancers to make it simple to escape. Meanwhile Ryers had begun to decrypt the computer systems, to open the gateway. Gregs was attempting to use medical supplies to heal the security officer, but unless they could break the decryption and activate the gateway to get home, it was looking very bleak.
  
  "I've got it sir!" Ryers exclaimed, "I modified a virus the boys cooked up back home against the Voth in the Solanae Dyson Sphere, and used it against the Iconian security systems, it's worked, and I can activate the gateway, but someone needs to stay behind to activate the gateway, we only have a ten second window." The three looked between themselves, the security officer not an option, and while Ryers and Tychos stepped up, Gregs overruled both of them and had them transport to the ship with the wounded officer.
  
  "We only have one shot at this before we're locked out," Gregs reports to the ship, "If you can't get me out of here, go back to the Federation and the Alliance, report all you've seen, and remember me." At that he pushed the button, the anomaly opened, and the ship had locked onto the captain, as it went through the space gateway.
  
  Gregs felt the tingling of the transporter, and knew he was safe, but when he hit the transporter, he fell to the floor, and passed out. Of course he noticed something was off before he passed out from the pressure in his head, he saw an unfamiliar Borg Drone, a female he could have sworn was a double for Ten, next to a female Ryers, Tychos and an injured male human security officer.
  
  'What a weird way to be rescued,' he thought, as the shadows took him.
  
  To Be Continued...
  Part Two: X=Y?

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• grylak Member Posts: 1,594 Arc User

  May 2014 edited May 2014

  The Viper shook from the disruptor fire. Jenna banked the ship hard to port, giving the phaser cannons a perfect shot to obliterate the Nausicaan pirate ship. Grimworm shouted in triumph. "Got him!"
  
  T'Fon shook his head. "Captain, may I remind you that Starfleet regulations clearly state criminals should be arrested and brought to trial. Not summinarily executed."
  
  From her chair in the centre of the Bridge, Talaina tilted her head towards T'Fon, without taking her eyes off the viewscreen as three other pirate ships flew past, firing their disruptors. "And may I remind you Lieutenant, that we are trying to protect that Tuffli out there. We don't have the opportunity to take prisoners, not without giving them the time to take hostages or just outright destroy that freighter. We warned them off, they attacked. We have plenty of justification."
  
  
  The ship shook again from weapons fire, but the shields were holding. T'Fon frowned, but remained silent until his console beepd. "Captain, detecting a ship decloaking off the starboard bow. Sensors indicate it is a Romulan warbird. D'deridex class. They are hailing." Talaina shook her head. "Perfect. On screen." The face of Commander D'Elon appeared on the viewscreen. She was as all business as usual. "Starfleet vessel. This is an internal Romulan matter. We thank you for the assistence, but we can handle it from here."
  
  Talaina shifted in her chair as she replied. "Commander, we are responding to a distress call from a civillian freighter. We will depart when the area is secure."
  "Then you should be aware we detected a pair of Son'a ships on an intercept course. We have reason to believe they will be aiding the Nausicaans. We will both deal with them."
  
  She promptly cut communication as the I.R.W. Tomalak moved across the starscape, plasma beams lancing out. They locked a raider in a tractor beam, holding it while Viper fired her phaser cannons. The final raider opened a comm. "Hold your fire. We surrender."
  
  Talaina smiled. "Wise move. Shut down your power systems and prepare to be boarded." The Nausicaan complied without question. As Viper was moving into transporter range, plasma beams struck the pirate ship, tearing it apart. Viper shook slightly as Talaina quickly spun to Ttorkkinn. "Get me that Romulan onscreen NOW!" It was only a moment before Talaina was looking at that smug expression once more. She hated Romulans in the military. They were always so arrogant. "Commander! Why did you destroy that vessel? They had surrendered."
  "Because they made hostile moves against a person connected to the Star Empire. We do not take simple mercenaries prisoner. We dispatch them. The Son'a ships are coming in. Prepare for battle." She cut off the comm as the Tomalak turned, opening fire with a torpedo salvo at the two ships before they even finished dropping out of warp. The Son'a ships rocked under the assault. Talaina knew there was something more going on here. "Hold fire. Don't shoot unless fired upon. Jenna. Keep us away from those ships. What's the Tuffli doing?"
  "They are attempting to move away from the area."
  "T'Fon, scan that vessel. I want to know why everyone is after it."
  "Scanning now Captain."
  The ship slammed hard to port from impact. Ttorkkinn held onto the console until Jenna had righted the vessel. "Captain, the Romulans AND the Son'a have opened fire on us. Everyone's attacking everyone!"
  
  "That does it. Helm, get us out of here." Jenna brought the ship about, but before they could jump to warp, the Tuffli grabbed them in a tractor beam. Xui Li worked her console furiously. "Captain. I am, ah, unable to break the tractor lock. It appears to be, ah, military grade. Hull polarisation is, ah, having no affect." D'Elon appeared on screen again. "Starfleet vessel. You were warned not to interfere. It pains me to report to Starfleet Command an unfortunate accident cost them a fine vessel." Talaina jumped to her feet. "You underestimate this ship Commander." D'Elon just smiled, yet strangely, there was no malice or contempt in her voice. She was very calm. "I don't think any vessel can withstand being the epicentre of a singularity. Goodbye." The channel closed as Ttorkkinn reported. "The Tomalak is coming in from Port! And a Son'a vessel is approaching from.... dammit! The Son'a fired a subspace torpedo! And... somehow, the Tomalak has fired a.... sensors indicate they fired a black hole at us!"
  "Can we get free!" Jenna hit the console with her palm. "Sorry Captain. That tractor beam is too powerful." Talaina stood up. "It's been an honour, and a privilege to serve with each and every one of you."
  
  
  The subspace rupture tore through space, reaching the trapped defiant class ship at the same moment the projected quantum singularity did. Both detonated against the shields, causing massive fluctuations. Everyone on the Bridge had to shield their eyes as the energies of two completely unstable galactic phenonima, somehow harnessed by those who would unleash them on others, mixed in a way they never have before. The Tuffli quickly released it's tractor beam and moved away as subspace shockwaves started expanding out from the ship, each wave with a greater ferocisty than the last. Viper started listing to the side as space around it was torn asunder, enveloping the ship. The black hole quickly collapsed on itself, blasting a shockwave out across a light year, amplified by the subspace rift.
  
  
  
  On the Bridge of the Tomalak, D'Elon sat in her chair, watching the scene unfold. She remained a perfect calm in the storm as her ship was buffeted around her. "Satra. Report." Her science officer and friend turned from her console. "Our singularity sealed the Son'a's subspace rift. There is no trace of the Starfleet vessel."
  "Our records indicate the Republic leant that particular ship a cloak. Ensure it hasn't simply engaged it." D'Elon waited patiently for Satra to complete her sensor scans. "Negative sir. No trace of a cloaked ship."
  "Excellent. Now, hail that Son'a vessel." She stood up as the Captain appeared on the viewscreen. "Son'a Commander. You are engaged in illegal activites. The vessel you attempted to procure cargo from via the Nausicaan pirates is a protectorate under the Romulan Star Empire. We have already dealt with your business partners. Stand down and we will not have to declare war on the Son'a."
  "The Romulan Star Empire." The male captain sneered. "The Romulans are weak. Pathetic. You stand no chance against us."
  "If you believe that, then open fire. Attack this ship. And see what happens."
  
  The Son'a ship fired at the Tomalak, which took the hit to it's shields. D'Elon simply looked to Ta'el and nodded. The tactical officer input some commands, causing a series of small devices to decloak around the lead Son'a ship. Barely larger than a torpedo, the devices moved up against the shield perimeter and exploded, coating the Son'a ship with Thalaron radiation. The Son'a commander appeared on screen, his skin already fossilising. "You.... you monster! You....ggggghhhhh...." He collapsed to the ground. D'Elon looked to Ta'el. "Get me that other Son'a ship." The terrified Captain appeared on the screen. "Now. You will withdraw from this space. You will tell the Son'a command of what happened here. And you wil stay away from any Romulan business. Failure to comply will result in the eradication of your species. Do I make myself clear?"
  "P-p-perfectly. We won't bother any Romulan again." As the Son'a ship turned and fled to warp, D'Elon sat back down, smiling at how that went. "Whatever else the Tal Shiar may be, they make good weapons. Analyse the performance of the devices. Inform Command the first test run appears to be successful, with a more detailed report to follow. And see if that freighter needs any assistence before we escort it back home."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The blackness slowly faded into a blurr of colour. Her mind was screaming at her to just lie down and go to sleep, but Talaina knew better. Acting more on instinct, she forced herself to open her eyes properly. The Viper was a mess of smoke and fire. People were injured but apparantly, they were intact. Groaning, she moved a hand under her and braced to push herself up, screaming as her arm completely gave out. Something was probably broken. She instead rolled over just as Ttorkkinn approached, offering a hand. Grasping it greatfully, she was hoisted to her feet and checked around. Injuries, but no fatalities on the bridge. "Report."
  "I don't know what happened. But from what we can tell, we've somehow got thrown into a distant part of the galaxy. There's some kind of battle going on out there, so we've cloaked. The ship's badly banged up, but we're still alive. No reported fatalities. But the ship is going to need a drydock." Talaina slowly nodded. She looked at the viewscreen. Through the static, she could see a fleet of saucer shaped ships firing at large purple vessels. The large ships were easily a mile in size and looked like a spear with spikes growing out of it. Smaller fighters seemed to be flying between the ships, blasting at the saucers. A sudden coughing fit prompted Talaina to spit out some blood, wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve as she walked up to helm. "Where are we? Exactly?" Jenna had a bad cut to her forhead, blood gushing down her face. "Astrological charts are having trouble identifying our exact position. But the stars don't match up with known space, we know that much." Talaina looked up at the screen again. "Move us away from that. Slowly. We don't want to attract any attention from either party until we know what's going on here." Talaina moved over to Xui Li's station and read the engineering reports. "We're that screwed?" she asked to no one in particular. Ttorkkinn felt the need to answer anyway. "We've been in worse." A curse from Jenna made both officers turn around. Ttorkkin asked if there was a problem. "Sirs.... according to this, we're on the edge of a completely different galaxy. Further out than Andromeda. We'll never make it back to Federation space." Ttorkkinn blinked a couple of times as he processed that information. "I stand corrected." Talaina felt a pang of dispair at the news, but she was not going to let it show. She straightened up, assuming an air of authority. "We got here. That means there's a way back. We will see our homes again one day. Remember the Voyager."
  
  "Voyager was only on the other side of the galaxy! We're in a completely different one!" Jenna slumped into her chair, resting her face in her hands. Talaina moved over to the young woman and put an arm around her shoulders. "It just means we'll have to work that much harder to make it. But make it we will. For we are Starfleet officers. If we hold to the ideals we took an oath to uphold, we will get back home. For now...." She turned to look at the viewscreen. "For now, we explore. We see what's out here. Technology brought us here, someone may have the technology to send us back. But we wont know until we search. Until we seek out those new civilisations. For out there..... is the final frontier."

  *******************************************
  
  A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'

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• hawku001x Member Posts: 10,758 Arc User

  May 2014 edited August 2016

  The Prometheus-class U.S.S. Phoenix-X undocked from Deep Space 9 and approached the empty space where the Bajoran Wormhole was situated.
  
  "Excellent work, crew," Captain Seifer complimented. "This has been much more successful than our delivery-spill of post-classic era Kahn wigs over the Bolian capital, last week."
  
  Armond turned from the tactical console. "Sir, you wanted me to warn you when you were 'speaking too soon?'"
  
  "Yes?"
  
  He then frowned. "Well, that is a full time job that I just cannot execute."
  
  "Shouldn't we be bantering about our latest mission?" Kayl interrupted from ops. "We're supposed to fulfill at least 20 hours of exposition a week."
  
  Seifer smirked. "Obviously; that's what progress reporting is for."
  
  "Speaking of which," Chief Engineer Kugo started. "Our latest modifications to the deflector dish have been quite successful. The work the Federation Science Counsel, Bajoran Center for Science and Cardassian Union Science Ministry did was more than exemplary."
  
  Armond nodded. "It was like a science explosion in the Deflector Control Room; you couldn't get a word in edgewise about anything tactical or engineering at all. I didn't want to report this earlier, but the Deep Space 9 Chief Engineer slapped me in the face for trying."
  
  "Oh, that just means he likes you in his culture-- Whatever species he is? I keep referring to him as just Alien," Kayl admitted.
  
  Seifer nodded. "Yeah, he told me was okay with that. --As for the over-enthused science talk; do you think there is any chance of that effecting the EPS conduits?"
  
  "I don't see how, since talking and the electro-plasma system are completely unrelated?" Kugo replied.
  
  The Captain laughed. "No, you're right... and our testing of this new scanning equipment isn't likely to purvey any adverse episodic plots either."
  
  "Sir! There has been an EPS conduit explosion in the Deflector Control Room!" Armond exclaimed, suddenly. "Suggest we brace ourselves for a Betazoid's scorn!"
  
  Seifer clenched his fist and hit the arm of his chair. "Dammit, I knew I should have went to med-school. But, noooooo, that non-corporeal being that feeds off my brain's neural command energy had other plans for me."
  
  Suddenly, the Wormhole fluctuated and opened up and around the Phoenix-X; enveloping the ship.
  
  "Ah, you know, what," Kayl snapped her fingers in sudden recollection. "Like, fifteen other ships have gone through this exact same thing, just this month."
  
  After a bright trans-dimensional flash, that knocked the crew to the floor, the Phoenix-X found itself in a strange, new and fascinating type of space-- one more desperate to be more interesting than the last.
  
  Seifer clutched his head as he tried to climb himself back to his chair. "Bloody hell-- it's like the Picard-Scimitar crash all over again. I wasn't there for it, but I've heard rumours."
  
  "Trying to get sensors online, now," Armond climbed back up to tactical and attempted to sort through a mess of holo-panels.
  
  Ensign Dan found a holo-panel half-lodged into his head, "Armond, I think this one's yours," he pulled it out and looked at it. "Holy Sha Ka Ree-- we're in a completely new, and likely recurring, type of space!"
  
  "On screen," Seifer ordered.
  
  As everyone got to their chairs, they beheld the most confusingly, possibly horrifying view blinking on the main viewer: A space filled with multi-shades of brown and white balls of fuzz, all around them; the vibration of which, through the bulkheads, created a calming effect.
  
  "Is that what I think it is?" Seifer squinted his eyes in fear.
  
  Armond's jaw was dropped, as with everyone else's. "Yes, sir... It's tribble. WE'RE IN TRIBBLE SPACE."
  
  ---
  
  Meanwhile, two crew members in the non-windowed, lower-forgotten decks paused, momentarily, from their hard work.
  
  "What was that ship jolt all about?" Tong asked.
  
  Gewdeque shook her head. "How would I know? It's not like the Bridge is going to call us specifically and tell us what they're looking at."
  
  "Yeah, that was a stupid question. Sorry."
  
  Gewdeque sighed. "No, I'm sorry. It's fine. We'll just find out through the rumour mill over the course of several days passed the event, like we always do."
  
  "Of course!" Tong smiled in relief. "Thanks, Gewdeque; you always did know how to manage command-structure based ignorance."
  
  ---
  
  Back on the Bridge, the crew worked frantically to figure out what was going on.
  
  "How could we be in a situation? How and why and other steps I need to emotionally go through??" Seifer spat.
  
  Kayl turned. "Sir, you're riling up everyone's anxieties, like some kind of riled-guy. In conclusion, it's annoying."
  
  Armond flicked open one of his hovering panels. "The new scanning systems aggravated the Wormhole in a new and fantastic way, triggering an opening into a parallel dimension."
  
  "Lens flares!?" Seifer looked around in panic and then stopped. "Sorry. That's just an unexplainable, innate fear I have. Seriously, I can not explain it."
  
  Kugo pondered. "How can all of space be filled with tribble in this universe? What's in the spaces between the tribble?"
  
  "That's normal space." Armond scanned. "But the tribble are so tightly compacted, that you can't see it with the naked eye. It appears there are enough of them to fill space itself-- how far, would require a five year mission, I assume."
  
  Kayl turned again. "I don't get it? The tribble are a mammalian species from Iota Geminorum IV; a product of millions of years of evolution. How could they be here as well?"
  
  "Obvious answer; evolution isn't real-- and neither is global warming." Ensign Dan turned, hoping to finally have a one-up on the crew.
  
  Seifer pointed. "You're relieved!"
  
  "I believe the more pressing question is, why tribble? Have we not had enough episodic spin-off situations dealing with them by now? Can't we come up with new ideas?" Kugo raised an eye brow.
  
  Seifer tapped his chin in confusion. "I... I don't follow." He then sat back and relaxed. "Anyway, I'm sure we all know what we have to do now." He paused, sure of it himself. "We have to repopulate this universe with humanoids and restart the Federation-- and this time, no more Lock Boxes."
  
  "Captain, I'm reading a larger tribble, one that would put Cyrano Jones to shame! It's rolling through the other tribbles on a direct course for us!" Armond exclaimed.
  
  The Captain shook his head. "A weight joke? In the 25th century? I'm disappointed in you, Armond."
  
  The giant tribble, the size of a starship, stopped before the Phoenix-X, in the compacted tribble space, where neither was actually visible to each other. An outline of it was brought up on screen.
  
  "By the rolly-polly jostle of K'mpec himself!" Seifer's mouth gaped open, unaware of his own hypocrisy, to which Armond emanated a disapproving glance.
  
  The Phoenix-X suddenly shook in vibrations, prompting Kayl to work quickly. "Sir, it's communicating by cute purrs! Translating the adorable messages now!"
  
  The computer provided a deep, angry voice through all the shaking: "Puny humanoid vessel! I am Troblor, and you have discovered tribble space. Eons ago we sent a single heroic tribble, Trebbly, to your universe in an effort to transform it into one like our own. We have nearly bred ourselves to a galactic unit. Is Trebbly's descendants now and finally your supreme rulers?"
  
  Still, with mouth gaped open, Seifer remained several moments in shock. It was obvious now that early tribble were biologically spacefaring. Should he tell Troblor that nearly all tribbles were wiped out by Klingons in the 23rd century? Or that people were now breeding tribbles as out-of-combat self heals? Surely, explaining everything would be the right thing to do?
  
  "Yeah," Seifer finally sputtered out in continued shock-reverie. The Phoenix-X vibrated in translation. "Yeah, you got us," Seifer said, not actually processing what he was saying, but more trying to fill the talk-void to hide his initial reaction.
  
  Troblor vibrated in ecstasy, and the computer voiced him again: "Oh that is wonderful news! We hope you like them. As a thank you, we shall return you to your universe. Once again, we appreciate the report."
  
  Another, other worldly-pitched vibration from the giant tribble caused the Phoenix-X to be enveloped in a white energy, transporting the whole ship back into the prime universe; back outside Deep Space 9, surrounded by the empty void and stars.
  
  The crew looked at each other in shock.
  
  "Wow....... That was quite revelatory. And as such, we must never speak of this trip into fluidic space again," Seifer ordered.
  
  Kugo corrected, "Tribble space."
  
  "Right. You see, my mind is already trying to suppress it. --You will all suppress your memories," he pointed around the room. "Kugo, have the new scanning equipment dismantled and replace it with a bunch of tricorders tied together." He got up and walked for his ready room, but paused. "As for the rest of you; this is what happens when cultures try to work in unison for a greater cause-- Sure, relations can improve, friends can be made, but at what cost? Horrifying science-y outcomes??"
  
  He then went into his ready room and accessed the replicator.
  
  Moments later he stepped out with a spray bottle and sprayed water at his flinch-prone crew. "No! Bad Starfleet..... Bad!"
  
  ---
  
  Meanwhile, out on the hull of the Phoenix-X, a single, solitary spaceborne tribble detached itself and menacingly sped off into deep space.

  Post edited by hawku001x on August 2016

  

  USS Phoenix-X Literary Index | Comics | Most recent story: "The Opposite of That"

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• allen1973 Member Posts: 22 Arc User

  May 2014 edited May 2014

  My name is Captain T’Dar Zentron, you may have heard of my cousin Admiral Da’aral Zentron. Unlike my cousin I am allied with the Federation as a New Romulan Separatist, whereas as a New Romulan Separatist, he is factioned within the Klingon Empire as a New Romulan. Because of a familial liaison I had heard of the Federation / Klingon aligned human, Admiral Allen, and his difficulties with anomalous activities near the Rolor Nebula. Possibly due to rank and position within Starfleet I had not known of the Admiral’s problematic through normative Starfleet channels. My superiors had thought well enough of my familial connections and had assumed that my personal intel was enough to compliment my general informative outlook. What I had found strange about Allen’s problem was that the Sheliak would otherwise seem to be victims of their own paperwork. Current alliances compromise the inactivity of the Sheliak, I’m sure had they had less back logging they would have given all of their new alliance members fair warnings vis a vis the scientific community, another theory is that their scientific community is still under diplomatic restrictions from their previous policies. Whatever the case research should have been committed to prior to Allen’s disparaging anomalous displacement within and extraneous to the slipstream continuance of multi-dimensional time-space to indeed avoid such a displacement.
  New Captains should not give their most impressive opinions regarding Starfleet policy the utmost concern, this is what I thought at first when given the assignment to compliment the new scientific Alpha/Gamma Quadrant wormhole alliance. However Admiral Allen and General Mongdech conferred with Admiral Zentron, Zentron is busy with liberating Romulans in the Afehirr Nebula, from the Borg, Elachi, and the Tholians. It was my thought that I should be pressed to join my cousin the Admiral, however the joint Romulan/Starfleet/Klingon alliance seems to be well within fleet designation. I found this improbable, so I had assumed would be off setting my current route circulation after a return from DS9 and naturally, the Gamma Quadrant. I had assumed that my qualifications for this mission was my science team and the fact that I was essentially bombarded with Wadi and other Gamma Quadrant personal upon receiving orders to assist with the DS9 scientific community. Once Starfleet and the Klingons realized that my personal alliances had merely relieved themselves of Gamma Quadrant personal so that they would not be bothered with such duty, in so much that I was chosen due to my proximity to the Eta Eridani, and that the call to arms in the Afehirr had already taken place. Within two weeks’ time I was reviewing officer files and assigning new crew members and staffers their places on my ship, Dargeta’ana, which is a D’ridthou class Romulan vessel. My ship has some special augmentation that I have personally authorized, the nature of its specific upgrades are completely classified.
  
  …The Dargeta’anaz and Crew had been on assignment near the Bajoran Wormhole for the last several weeks testing new scanning equipment placed in our Deflector Dish by the engineering crew at DS9, with some help from our own technicians of course. This new technology was designed by the joint efforts of the Federation Science Counsel, the Bajoran Center for Science, and the Cardassian Union Science Ministry. While scanning the wormhole, an EPS conduit exploded in the Deflector Control room. A massive power surge burst from the Deflector Dish, causing the wormhole to fluctuate and envelop the Dargeta’anaz. After a bright flash of energy, instruments indicated that we had emerged into a section of space that was completely unrecognizable. This is no ordinary "space." It appears to be unlike anything we had ever encountered before...
  
  We were within a vast dark cloud, this is to say a nebulous vicinity of space that’s outer periphery is shrouded by dark matter. We had received many variable readings much like the readings that Allen had experienced during his recent anomaly experiences in the Sheliac, Cardassian, Breen, Deferi nether regions. These reading read as dissimilar in that they had been artificially expired, as well as some fluctuations that had never actually transpired or accrued due to various reasons, likely that they did not meet safety standards for string theory travel. Most dissimilar was that over eighty percent of these fluctuations had Borg signatures, seventeen of which were likely Tholian, a certain percentage was confirmable to the Elachi designation, and finally the remaining percentage were non-verifiable, two thirds of which were collapsed and proven to be pre-collapsed in significant numbers also. Borg and Tholian trace signatures were off the chart in this sector, however dormant for a very, very long time. There were no other noticeable traces of the Elachi, it is as if they made or didn’t make their visit to this nebula via their string theory anomaly, or they did and did nothing else while present. I called my Gamma Quadrant advisors to the bridge to make speculations and examinations in my presence.
  The Borg and the Tholians must have engaged other presences here in the sector. We began to assimilate our readings of the sector as the advisors were finished consulting with the tacticians. There were sixty-eight systems in this sector, forty three had some signs of life. We decided to go to the closest inhabited planet to our own position which was a binary system with seventeen planets orbiting, seven of which were in the habitable zone of its stellar confines. The smallest of which was a large moon circulating a very large gaseous planet, this planet seemed to have the most refined planet, a contiguous civilization, with various technological readings and orbital devices and movement. I ordered a course directly to that planet. My chief Wadi advisor put his hand on the shoulder of a Skrreean, and they smiled. I was taken aback by this. I asked if they knew where we were, and the only response was by the senior Wadi advisor, “In the Gamma Quadrant, we to honor the prime directive Captain…” I was outraged, yet I wasn’t going to allow this strange behavior diminish my judgment, I glanced at my Commanding officer, a Klingon Captain, Horg, brother of Mongdech, he grimaced slightly and said nothing.
  His brother found that Horg, an amazing engineer, actually had little experience with sentient life forms outside of the Klingon Empire. Should Horg become General, then for diplomatic reasons he should have a more complete understanding of life outside his own Empire. As an engineer I seized this opportunity to have another superior engineer aboard my crew, as I myself am an engineer, another reason why I was chosen by Starfleet as one of the Captains for this mission. General Gaardox Mongdech had been very conciliatory about the transfer of his brother Horg, however he was very brief as he was in-planning the main assault on the Borg invaders to Afehirr. General Worf of Mogue had inferred that the Mongdech House was always considered to be a practical asset by the Empire, and would infer that this must be true of his own house also. I had thought both houses were allied, this was the first time I knew this as a verified fact by both parties. General Drex was to lead this expedition, whereas General Kurn was the other main Klingon general on the Afehirr assault. Worf was securing the eastern Tau Dewa with his assigned delegation fleet and was then orbiting H’atori.
  Horg thought that he would be leading this mission in his Vor’cha cruiser, when in fact he was assigned to provide joint command on my ship, had he not been very interested as an engineer, he would have been very insulted by this mission, as it stood, his Lethean co-Captain was less experienced as Captain, and needed as much practice with miscegenation, yet was invited to join us on this mission as a regular Scientific envoy. Also Horg was in need of further understanding of Romulan Engineering. He had helped me with infrastructural computational refinements with new engineering systems on New Romulus. He and his team were very instrumental in allowing my engineering team to be completed ahead of schedule, so much so that we all moved as a group to larger, more complex systems of engineering engagement in New Romulus in order to expedite civic and colonial foundations there during the onset of our allied settle-mentation.
  Halfway to the moon world we were contacted by the reigning authority there. We stated our situation and advised and inquired upon their eminent hospitality. Horg snorted at this amused by the preferential audacity of Romulan diplomacy. The alien sentient then explained that we were headed to the Verathan home world and that this nebula was currently untraceable by the Borg, Tholians, and Elachi, as most enemies who enter here almost never leave intact. If allowed to leave they are plagued with viruses that will be the contagion of their home worlds and alliance members. The known Borg “Hue,” a Starfleet alliance member suddenly came to mind. I inferred of “Hue,” and Horg commented that the enemies of the Verathan were enemies of both the Klingons and the Romulans. The Verathan noticed our compliment of advisors from the Gamma quadrant and smiled.
  “You will see that you will be very welcome here then, unfortunately some of your crew members may prefer to stay.” I had considered this before the mission began. “However, this nebula is a sanctuary, and oasis away from both the Borg their allies, and the Dominion. The Verathan are an ancient species, we have ancestry that remembers the Iconians, as we have read from our ancient manuscripts and ledgers. There are members of this Nebula that likely have ancestry closer to your own homeworlds, I see no reason that those who wish to continue on their own reconnaissance should not do so.”
  “I must agree with you, senior Verathan.” This was universal protocol as far as I could assess. I thought of Janeway in the Delta Quadrant. I thought of G’Dar’Nas Zentron, a diplomat of Romulus who had made Romulan first contact with the Denubulans in that system in the periphery of the known stellar neighborhood. The Verathan was Gratlon, he was hundreds of years old, likely over four hundred. His species had inhabited several worlds here with other species who were thought to be sustainable enough by the Iconians to adapt, evolve, and develop in this nebula, safe from the Borg, at least that was the theory at the time of the creation of the nebula by the Iconians. From the interior, it looks like a nebula, a myriad of chromatic chaos and luster. From the exterior it looks like dead space, closer still, it seems like dense murk, dark matter, and nothing more. Once the Borg had become outside of the declining powers of the Iconian Empire to control, the Iconians did what they could to preserve the galaxy and its inhabitants. They went to great lengths, but their trials at the hands of this mechanical monster were eventually met with dissatisfaction, and animosity by the Icnonians. By the time host species were able to defeat the Borg, the Iconians were likely convinced and jaded enough to think that the Iconians would be too good, too evolved for these species, us. The Verathan ended his explanation of everything by saying that he was sure that the Iconians moved to the early stages of the pre-history mirror universe in an effort to escape the mediocrity and irony of their failures in this universe. This was quite a story, I asked the computer to make a special mention of this incident and contact with the Verathan to be included with my personal logs and Starfleet co-council registry report to New Romulus. Then I sat in my bridge chair. Horg sat also. As it would turn out this Verathan Nebula had more species miscegenation than we had previously known to be possible in Gamma Quadrant space. The Verathan were capable engineers and helped us find flaws with structural quantum deflector fluctuations that may have contributed to our creation of our slip stream arrival. However, engineering teams from within the Verathan nebula would have to nullify our trace signature before we could leave, that could take several weeks or several months. Horg and I had a private meeting with our senior Wadi consulate and our commanding science officer. We believed that if it should take several months to leave this nebula then that would be at least a few years prior to our own ability to do so. And finally the Verathan Gratlon was right, we offered safe passage back to our own sector of space to those who wished it, and held no grudge who considered integration, or integrated study here most to their own proclivity.
  Among species that wished to return were close to one hundred humanoids including deborgified Xindi, humans, Ferengi, and Cardassians. In this exchange we lost close to the same number of crew members including twenty five or so percent of which which were not members of the Gamma Quadrant, which for the most part consisted of Romulan, Federation, and Klingon exploration teams.
  Horg and I were in a few months’ time very familiar with the astrometrics of the Verathan nebula and the proper diplomatic techniques. We decided that we should take our crew members to their designated Verathan home worlds for assimilative purposes. The Verathan boasts a New Dosi, New Teplanna, and a New Wadi. Deborgified and otherwise dominion separatists over the millennia had found their way to the Verathan nebula and have found ways to reconfigure their considerations on their former alliances. Although the Verathan have small colonies on all of the planets in the sector save those not slated for terraformation by them personally, and among those mentioned, also the Skrreean, Tosk, and Yaderan are predominant among those members of the Gamma Quadrant that we can recognize. A new race to us, Lorrus, a species that would appear to be bird-like humanoids is one of a few species that has survived within the nebula long enough to be recognized as at least formally Iconian. Another is Dergrunan which would appear like a humanoid-like mammalian similar to that of the human walrus. These species of shall we say, post-Iconians harbor Iconian technology and philosophy, or again, as such-post. And a delegation had requested permission to join us on our return trip, with one of their ships to be docked with us. The diplomatic implications here are unprecedented by either Horg or myself.
  Among the science reports, engineering reports and other noticeable considerations from this mission to the Gamma Quadrant, I thought at least enough of the process to take into account my own personal assessment of our predicament and how much work we suddenly became responsible for.
  The Verathan is a dark nebula on the edge of the galaxy not far from the boarder to the Alpha Quadrant, about the distance from one side of our local stellar neighborhood to the other, slightly farther than that distance actually. It exists in a cull of space where there are fewer star clusters, and the distance between systems is somewhat larger than that of our own. Species like the Lorrus and Dergrunan have host worlds on other planets in this, the local New Verathan stellar neighborhood. The Verathan however do not like to admit to anything that might betray how their species came to exist here, or what of their species outside of the nebula, whereas the Lorrus and Dergrunan acknowledge that the Verathan are an older species to themselves by a few thousand years, and have had more success outside of the nebula, although they themselves have had their own problems with their enemies. These ‘founding’ species, or older post-Iconian species as it were, were designed or designated by the Iconians as peripherial agents of the galactic empire to report of external galactic invasion to species further within, however the history and telling is complicated and varies by right of interpretation and perhaps other factors. There was no invasion, and the Verathan found that the Iconians, a host species to them who had left technology, albeit hidden, and secured within the nebula, were likely no longer to be, the newer species were to, once matured, extend their network to the parallels upon the periphery of the galaxy to extend their network. Somehow the Verathan were the first to encounter the Dominon, and the Borg. The Lorrus and Dergrunnan had made some contacts outside of the nebula, but plans for expansion were thwarted upon verification of the existence of the Borg, and probable astrometrics made further safe traversement unlikely. This was before the other species with the nebula and externally had matriculated, so deborgification had begun and a war of attrition began against non-allied outer nebulae influences. In the last few hundred years alone there had been more Borg attacks on the nebula than ever before previously. In the last decades Tholians have had more involvement. And most recently Elachi enter the Nebula, however in the one assault so far, the metastatic resonance of the dark matter matrix of the nebula itself has been enough to disable the Elachi ships. Like the Borg, those of the Verathan assimilate and dissimilate all that they find. There have been no recent attacks on the nebula. Ships here are reminiscent of the dreadnaughts from our sector, highly armored and energized. Politically the newer planetary unions have various objectives and perspectives, some want unilateral consensus for everything, while others only want the decimation of the Borg and the Dominion. Minority separatists have developed their own systems under the condition that as a newly terraformed world they look after it themselves, yet they still think to question the authority of the Verathanian assembly, which Horg and I were forced into membership of. We took a year and a half in this sector of space to study and comply with our scientific methodological demands, especially in seeing that our safe arrival back or near enough to the Gamma wormhole was seemingly guaranteed. The Verathan was prepared to bring us back in four months’ time. We were not ready to go to say the least. It took us eight more month to prepare our departing crew and arriving crew for what they would find in a new placement. Our ship, now filled with the diplomatic agency of inner species acclimation, sent teams all over the sector to gather as much information as possible. And finally our joint engineering crew worked carefully with our Gamma advisers to guarantee a permanent diplomatic resonance in this sector and one for our hosts and guests also once we returned to Deep Space Nine. The Verathan Nebula consortium will verify our existence and assess their diplomatic and trade speculativity. Now that they have confirmed our vector please grant them safe passage.

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• aten66 Member Posts: 654 Arc User

  May 2014 edited May 2014

  Previously on Star Trek Online...
  
  After Escaping the Andromeda Galaxy via an Andromeda Based Iconian Space Gateway, Gregs finds himself on the fabled Star Subjugator, the Experimental Sol-Class Dyson Hybrid ship, after being summoned to patrol the Solanae Sphere for the Borg Kings forces, as the Voth~Alpha Quadrant Alliance hinges on its expedient delivery of Ambassador/Captain Grey Son'aire!
  
  *******
  
  Captain's Log:
  Stardate: 91061.97
  
  Captain's Log: Captain Son'aire
  
  After re-supplying Deep Space Nine, we've been recalled to the Solanae Dyson Sphere to attend the cease-fire between the Alliance powers, Voth Heretic's, and the Voth Ministry of War, their military arm within the sphere.
  
  The Undine no longer posed a threat since the revelation of their roles at the Jenolan Accords, when the Iconians revealed themselves to us, through the male Iconian whp attacked. An Undine agent, posing as a Bajoran officer, revealed himself to the alliance after the deaths of the Klingon High Council members. The Undine were then open to receive evidence from the joint-taskforce that revealed Iconian made ships attacking fluidic space, not Alliance made ships.
  
  This led to the Undine joining the Alliance, removing their operatives from real space, while sending envoys of peace to each home world, to alert sleeper agents to the change in policy. Now the Voth, recognizing the power the alliance had against them, allowed peace talks to occur, hoping to end any hostility between the two powers.
  
  I've been selected as an ambassador because of my original interactions with the Undine and exposing their plot, being a formidable ally with the Heretic know as Nalen Exil, and with my involvement with the Iconians and their most recent attack at the Jenolan Accords.
  
  I've beamed down and met with the researchers stationed at the entrance to the Solanae sphere, and have contacted the Star Subjugator to beam me up. They said they had to hurry, so they are transporting me while entering the Iconian space gate, punctuality is needed so as not to offend the Voth Elders.
  
  Sharea 'Grey' Son'aire
  
  End Log
  
  *******
  
  Transporter Room: Star Subjugator
  
  "Zin to Drake, an explosion occurred in the Dyson Gateway on this end, hold the captains pattern, and transport three injured crewman, while I send Ten down to help the critically injured," the science officer reported, while running to the Transporter room. The command was received by Drake, who rescued the injured crewman, and watched as both Ten and Zin walked into the room, and Drake then transported the captain to the ship. Then he was alarmed.
  
  "Ziny, Ten, bio-registers in the transporters report that the captain is injured, her bio signs are destabilizing, some sort of wound just appeared when she hit the pattern buffer," the transporter officer slash chief engineer, Drake said "Her patterns degrading, attempting to fix it, transporting... now!" The familiar whirring sound of the transporter activating and unloading the captain was heard, and Ten and Zin watched, while Drake deactivated the transporter. With a thud, a mass of writhing shadow revealed itself to be the bleeding form of a man, a man who looked eerily like their captain.
  
  He looked at the group of the two bridge officers surrounding the injured crewmen, and the Borg female medical drone who stood over a critically wounded security officer. Zinare looked into his eyes and saw and felt the confusion in him, with his limited empathic powers, and then it go dark as he fainted in the growing pool of alien ichor, blood like their captains. Ten of Ten, the female Liberated Borg Medical Drone, took the time after healing the injured man, to study his sleeping form, while also computing a blood sample. 'Well, what an interesting way to rescue the captain,' she thought to herself, while Zinare lifted the man onto a hovering stretcher, and took him to the sickbay, 'He may not recognize us in this world, but even blood does not lie, he is our captain, but I hope we can get our captain back...somehow.;
  
  *****
  
  The Other Side
  
  The transporter officer this shift, a bulky Romulan with a beard and scars, was operating beta shift in lieu of Tychos, the Tellarite jack-of-all-trades, but that didn't mean Tychos wasn't there. The three injured crewman, Tychos, a human scientist, and an injured female security officer, were being watched over by Ten of Ten, the liberated science drone who was acting chief medical officer, while Mae'i the female Caitian was off-duty for the afternoon. Suddenly the transporter pad sparked, and smoke flooded the pad, and an energy surge occurred, before he could transport the captain's pattern out of the buffer.
  
  The Romulan was attempting to clear up transporter interference, while the medical crew was healing the injured. 'Strange,' he thought, 'I could have sworn the captain's pattern said he was injured, but now his pattern is stable.' At that he activated the transporter, the whirring sound and shimmering effect revealing a lithe, shadowy form as the air cleared. A female officer who looked suspiciously like Gregs appeared on the pad. The Romulan officer pulled his plasma pistol from it's holder, and pointed the charging weapon at the new intruder. The woman stumbled forward a few steps, unsteady in her gait, before she fell to her knees, as Ten grabbed her shoulders.
  
  "Hakeev, stand down, do not fire," this was from Zinuzee, as she appeared in the room, the mirror universe counterpart of the now dead Cmdr. Hakeev, lowered his weapon and stopped the charging weapon, "Thank you, Ten report."
  
  The drone was using his built in medical scanner to scan the woman, sampling her genetic structure from blood that came from scrapes on her hands when she fell to the hard, metal floor. "Scan complete, Species 2479-A, Ocampa and multiple Vulcanoid-type hybrid; genetic sequence matches known structure of Captain Gregs Sharvan Son'aire," he says, an echo of the hive reflected when he talked, "Error in X/Y chromosome sequence, X/X differential and other slight mutations normal to females of species evident; while this is the captain, she is not our captain." Ten then gets up, and walks over to face Zinuzee, who had helped the medical crew remove the remaining injured crewman. "Tachyon and Chroniton scans show her dimensional frequency differences by a point three two four seven six three zero variance, to our current reality," he says, "She is from a parallel reality, reached when an surge of Iconian Gateway energy hit the transporter buffers, in a sense, opening a gateway between our two realities." He then moves over, scanning her abdominal section, a secondary reading. "There is more, Acting Captain Zidire," he says, his voice returning to its normal neutrality, "She requires proactive, corrective measures, her progeny could beat risk from the exotic energies reacting with her unique physiology, we do not wish harm to them." At that he picks her up, and returns to sickbay with a confused, and gaping Zinuzee in tow.
  
  ***
  
  Flipside
  
  Ten of Ten was scanning the newcomer, checking his wounds were healed, and no motor damage had been done by whatever weaponry had hit him. Then Seven of Seven or Soran Darian, the secondary chief engineer, entered with a scanning device located within his hands, the gray haired man scanned the dimensional frequencies resonating off of the tachyons and chronitons present on him, and found a variance of point three two four seven six three zero, meaning he was from a different, yet parallel reality to their own. Drake sat across from the two drones working around them, watching the sleeping form of the man who they had found.
  
  He was different from this reality, his resonance was similar to his counterpart in the other universe, but he knew exactly who was in front of him, he remembered. This was the Gregs Sharvan Son'aire that he remembered from his academy days, before he found himself transported to this reality by TIC. A future version of Gregs, one that no longer existed, had pulled some strings he had to keep him in this reality, and it had worked for a time, he was integrated as a temporal refugee, but TIC feared he would rebel. They didn't want that reality he came from to occur, so they sent him into a totally different time continuum, where he would take the place of his counterpart, Chassidy, for this reality's Gregs, Grey.
  
  He had debriefed the other senior officers of what had occurred, and that while they couldn't exactly deliver their Captain as ambassador, they hoped Gregs would be willing to mediate the alliance events occurring shortly. The Voth helped secure a portion of the Solanae sphere the Undine had occupied while they were still enemies, now occupied by Voth/Alliance manned Undine Planet Killers, and actions were under way to repair the unique hull of the Dyson Sphere, so it wasn't detected.
  
  The unfortunate side effect of being transported to a gender swapped universe, was that it applied to the whole of space/time to the home reality, and personalities and histories changed to match this. One such unfortunate difference was the ruthless tyrant, the Borg King. Unlike the Borg Queen, who merely expanded and added to her own perfection, ignoring lesser species, the Borg King assimilated countless worlds, created billions of drones who retained their personalities, but were helpless puppets, before being stopped by an alternate future Christopher Janeway and the current Admiral Janeway, who sacrificed his life to end the threat to the Delta Quadrant and the galaxy. Of course only recently the King had been reactivated, found isolated within an Alpha Quadrant world, Vega, before its reactivation in 2409, by a lone Borg Cube that had escaped destruction by removing its link to the Collective. Somehow the Borg King had learned of the Sphere that led back to the Delta Quadrant, and had escaped through an armada of Voth and Allied fleets, and a single Borg probe was lost to the darkness of space. Now the Undine, Alpha Quadrant powers, and both factions of Voth, feared what this could mean for the Delta Quadrant, and the mediations today could stop the Borg King from regaining a foothold. Hopefully, Gregs would comply.
  
  ***
  
  Tasting minerals in his mouth, he opened his blurry eyes to bright shining medical lights, the view he recognized from sick bay. He opened his eyes further, to see a feminine silhouette he mistook for Zinuzee, before he realized it had an ocular implant.
  
  "Hello Captain, it is good to see you recovering from your injuries," Ten of Ten says, "It's nice to see you've regained consciousness, because we need your help; Commaner Drake will fill in the rest for you." At that the Borg drone left to attend other patients, leaving Gregs and Drake alone.
  
  Drake gets up and walks over to the nearby computer interface, and activates the ships roster and visuals. "My name is Drake Storm, and I am the Chief Security Officer of the U.S.S. Star Subjugator, a sol-class vessel, much like the one I believe you hail from is," he says, "Among the Senior officers are Zinare Zidire as Chief Science Officer and First Officer to Sharea 'Grey' Son'aire, Griea Sharia Son'aire Chief Operations officer, specializing in linguistics, Fae'i, a Ferasan diplomatic officer, serving as counselor and alternate Chief Medical Officer, and Deisan, a Bajoran who is Chief of engineering." He pulls up more of the ships roster on the computer. "Then we have Car'Atar a female Vorta clone who was given Ada's, this versions Odo, permission to join with our crew, and she acts as our diplomat and advisor," he says, "We also have Kori, our 'Core M.A.C.O. Hologram' our ECH and resident A.I.; there are more, but I'm sure you'd meet them in time." He gets up, and shuts off the interface, then motions for Gregs to get up and follow.
  
  ***
  
  "And this, Gregs, is Verra Koda, a temporal duplicate of Nalen Exil, the Voth scientist we had rescued from oppression by their ministry of war, now she is working for the engineering department to advance our technology, and study Iconian technology," Drake says, "Verra, this is Gregs Son'aire, he is replacing the captain at the cease fire talks, and hopefully the others will be fine with this unexpected change in the itinerary." At that the bluish-hued Voth scientist smiled, and greeted the man who was the double of the captain.
  
  "Greetings and pleasure your mates love for you," she says, before blushing, "or is it a pleasure to meet you, your language is confusing to my translator matrix program, I must update it someday." She removes the P.A.D.D. she was working on, and leaves it on an engineering desk, and walks closer to inspect Gregs. "Wow, your face is so remarkably similar to hers, your nose it thicker and rigged, and your chin and cheek structure is elongated compared to hers, but the similarities are amazing," she exclaims, "I wonder, are your telepathic and other acquired traits similar or different, are your mannerisms similar or gender differentiated, so many possibilities, even the mirror universe version of the captain wasn't as different as you." She pokes him with one of her spines, not the paralytic kind, but the physical features of her kind. "I like you," she says, a smile equivalent showing on her features, "Now onto the serious matters, I wish to inform you of the political climate, social situations, and goals that are going to be expressed at this conference, and I hope you are prepared for a lecture."
  
  ***
  
  Sickbay: Breaker
  
  With others busy about repairing the damage to the ship after returning from Andromeda, Zinuzee and Ten stood around the bio bed holding Grey. The Liberated Drone was studying a holographic chart detailing the D.N.A and genetic sequences of three separate beings. One was of Grey, the other two were of, as of yet, undetermined gender, but confirmed as twin fetus' of mixed genealogy of Trill, Ocampa, and Vulcanoid genetics. Some damage was done to the unborn children when they were exposed to unknown energies, but Ten had all but fixed their genetic structure using modified nanoprobes of Borg design that could repair and restructure damaged genes. Grey was impatient through out the whole process, of that Zinuzee was sure, she could tell with what little empathic power she could muster.
  
  "Captain, I know you are impatient, but please let Ten do his work, he only has highest regard for your safety," she says, trying to put the woman at ease. Grey bit her lip in anxiousness, pouting at being confined to this cold and sterile bed.
  
  "That's the problem, if he's anything like my Ten, he takes his job to seriously," she says in a huff, "he probably works to hard and doesn't relax as often as I- Gregs orders him to." Zinuzee smiles at the irritable woman, imagining that what she just said was similar to what Gregs would say if he was ever in a similar situation. The telepath could feel Zinuzee's emotions at the forefront of her mind, and chuckled. "Yes I guess we are very similar, we are the same person after all," while she said this, Zinuzee was perplexed. This brought confusion to Grey, until she realized what had, or hadn't, occurred. "He hasn't... revealed anything to the crew yet has he, about his powers," she says shyly, "I guess he isn't as open as I was about the full extent and range of our abilities." Zinuzee was puzzled, and it showed on her face, though she knew about some of the abilities Gregs possessed, he never spoke of anything beyond telepathy and empathy, and Grey was more than happy to expand on.
  
  "Telepathy and empathy being active powers, ones even Sharvan could learn with time and training, while inactive or passive powers that I have, such as genetic manipulation of myself, the ability to create life-threads between me and my friends and crewmen, or even the ability to create a pocket dimension and store it behind a door that wouldn't normally exist; I have a variety of powers," she says, then grimaces, "There's one power though, the one that made me open up, is the ability to shed my physical form and exist in lower subspace, though I've never really done it except once, when I was imprisoned by a rogue Nacene and used to fuel their continued existence, after I escaped my views on life changed." At that point Ten had cleared her, and Zinuzee was listening with rapt attention. "Well, maybe we could continue this in the Mess Hall, I haven't eaten all morning, and I think I need some chocolate chip pancakes right about now," she exclaims, and the two get up and leave sickbay.
  
  ***
  
  Solanae Sphere: Subjugator
  
  "Borg Octahedron appearing on sensors, they've pierced the subspace barrier, and are on approach towards the Jenolan/Solanae entryway, I repeat, Borg Octahedron, sensors also indicate a Borg King signature is onboard, wait new sensors readings..." a voice echoed through the conference hall from a security relay," Oh my god, it's... organic, it's organic, an assimilated Undine Nicor... Oh My...GAHHHHH." The voice and transmission was cut after a few seconds of static, and the whole room went to chaos.
  
  The proceedings had gone great and all sides began to cooperate towards unity against the major threat of the Borg against the galaxy. To mask the Dyson Sphere from outside intrusion, a subspace fence had been activated, limiting the sensors from scanning into or out from the sphere. Now they had the threat at their door, as a single vessel entered the sphere miraculously, a Borg vessel holding the catalyst that could destroy all life. Scans reveled the ship was cut off from the collective by the subspace fence, but if it wasn't stopped here, it would mean the Borg could become aware of the Omega Particles in the sphere, and with it they could either destroy all Milky Way civilization, or become a threat that rival the Iconians. Voth had defensive weaponry against the Borg, but nothing that was totally effective in destroying them, merely disabling the threat for a short time, until they adapted. It was lucky that the Alpha-Beta Quadrant powers had ships that were equipped with Anti-Borg technology at their finger tips. Jorel Quinn, Chancellor Jarak, and D'Tani, heads of the Federation, KDF, and Romulan Republic respectively, had authorized the sharing of Anti-Borg weaponry to their Voth allies, with D'Vek, head of the Honor Guard and M.A.C.O. joint operations personally oversee the joint attack against the Borg ship in the Sphere.
  
  ***
  Bridge
  
  "What's the deal with the Borg in this universe," asks Gregs, "The Borg in my universe are advanced. but from what I've heard, they seem to be the equivalent to the threat of the Undine now in my home universe, what makes them different?" At this Ten walks up to face the captain, her face blank as she looks up at the taller man.
  
  "The Borg of your universe serve a Queen, correct," she says, "well the Borg here serve a ruthless and destructive King." She get sup and brings files on the Borg onto the main view screen. "The Queen of your universe, from what I can tell, cares for control and perfection over what the Borg King covets," she says, "He is chaos personify; he doesn't subsume a Borg Drones mind, he doesn't bend it to his will, he tortures them with living death until they comply, souls within puppets controlled by their master, leaving the weak under his control." She shows a blond haired man, with a caption showing Arnold Hannsen, or Seven of Nine, alongside a short-haired older woman with kind eyes and graying-black hair, with the title Jeanne-Luc Picard, Lacutus. "Those who are removed from the collective, or who have indomitable will to resist the influence of the King, can function on their own, away from the chaotic and prying influence of the Borg," she says, "The King cares about enslaving every culture he meets, to be them, to overpower those he faces and consume them into the collective."
  
  She brings up three separate species pictures, one of a Jem'Hadar, another of a Klingon male, and the other of a Hirogen male. "These are the Kings most coveted forms, historically warrior races, the King considers himself as an equal to an Avatar of War and Chaos in many cultures, and so covets warrior based peoples to use as his vessel," she says, "In the same way he covets Species 8472, the Undine, as a perfect host for his next step in perfecting war, he equally searches for the Omega Particle to create an 'ultimate weapon' that will help him in his goal to become a perfect Warrior-King." The Borg drone silences, and turns back to Gregs.
  
  "So an assimilated ship that is organic within the octahedron, do you think it's a Undine?" asks Gregs, "I mean, if he wants to be perfect, wouldn't he want to assimilate an Undine vessel for use, what would he assimilate a Dahut or Nicor class vessel?" At that comment was silence, they hadn't really thought about that. At that time Zinare approached them, bring with him a P.A.D.D. that he then connected to the main screen, and brought up a diagram of the Octahedron. The rest of the Octahedron was easily seen, but the core was difficult to read from far away, but Undine bio energy was emanating from the core. The room took on a grim atmosphere, everyone knew this would be a dangerous operation trying to fight an Octahedron, let alone powered by Undine technology.
  
  "We've destroyed an Octahedron before, and we can do it again," Gregs says with grim determination, turning to the rest of the bridge crew, "It's time we attack them with everything we got, plus there is one thing we have the Borg doesn't, and that is the knowledge we gained from this sphere." The group was grim at first, but slowly everyone was steeled and determined to continue forward.
  
  ******
  
  Mess Hall: Breaker
  
  A pile of steaming, hot, gooey, golden-brown pancakes dotted with melting, chocolate chips, and smothered in maple syrup graced the plate next to a cup of Terran-recipe Hot Chocolate. Stomach growling, and hunger pains setting in, Grey looked at the food like it was pure gold, or a piece of art, she almost didn't want to defile it's beauty....almost. Zinuzee on the other hand imagined Grey with fangs dripping with saliva, and comically thought from the way she tore into that food that she was more like a ravenous animal, then a Starfleet captain. Mouth full of food and mumbling happily through the crumbs, Grey smiled at her filled stomach, and pleasantly disposed of the plate though the replicator. She swallowed the last bits, and turned back to the table and to Zinuzee.
  
  "So I was about to tell you about the range of my powers.." she was interrupted by the rocking of the ship, as it was hit. Red Alert klaxons began ship-wide and the whole room darkened, a red light the only source of visible lighting. "Damn, what hit us," Grey asked, rubbing her head, "Come to think of it, where is the ship at now...the Gamma Quadrant?" The last part was joking, but the concerned and serious look from Zinuzee confirmed her fears. "Well crud, don't tell me we offended the Dominion?" she said, hoping that wasn't the cause, "Maybe we should head to the bridge, ehh Zinny?"
  
  ***
  
  Arriving on the bridge, they found the bridge crew at their stations, and Zinuzee relieved the science officer to take their place, while Grey took the Captains place on instinct. "Helm, can you identify what's attacking the ship," she asked, "Science where are we even at?" At that the ship rocked again, after taking another hit from something.
  
  "I believe I can answer both of those questions sir!," Zinuzee replies, "It seems we've been deposited in the Gamma Quadrant by the Iconian Gateway, somewhere around an asteroid belt near the Idran System, from what I see we are being attacked not only from Idran Swarmers, but by the satellite defenses from the long dead Idran civilization." Shields were holding for now, though by the way the ship was being pummeled, it more then likely meant the Idrans defenses were against the Dominion forces.
  
  "How long until we can get weapons or impulse up to defend ourselves?" Grey asked, "We either need to defend ourselves or escape to the wormhole." The senior staff seems ill at ease, and Grey notices. "What, you don't want to go home, what's so bad about the wormhole," she says, "it's not like you can go to the Andromeda galaxy!" At that Sharvan, the operations officer this shift, snickers at that comment, knowing that that's just what happened. "What's so funny?" she asks, "What?" Showing a straight face, and standing straight, his face becomes unreadable. Exasperated, she turns to Gar, who was at the weapons station. "Time on weapons," she asked, before turning to Chassidy at the helm, "Time to bring engines online?" Both nodded, and turned back to their consoles.
  
  "Weapons online in three minutes, graviton torpedoes loaded and upgraded with spread pattern three," Gar says. As the Jem'Hadar quiets, Chassidy pipes up.
  
  "Impulse is online now, warp drive in four minutes," she says, "but there may be a way to distract the Swarmers without destroying them, a Tyken's Rift!" She swivels her chair around to face the captain. "If we create a Tyken"s rift in the middle of the swarm, while accessing the short-term cloaking device we have for emergencies, we can disable them and get them off our tail." Nodding her approval, Grey had them prepare and her eyes turned to the swarm outside, shown on the view screen, and grimaced.
  
  *****
  
  Bridge: Star Subjugator
  
  The Borg Octahedron was on the main view screen, motionless except for the drones constantly moving, circling the leviathan, but not getting close to it. The drones were reprogrammed by Dyson Command and the Voth, and were sent to monitor the ship, but from a distance, so as not to attract unwanted attention. Dyson Command then ordered the drones to return to Dyson Command, so they could get tactical data off of it. Gregs and Zinare stood in Dyson Command, sided by Nalen Exil, and Command control, as they began to dissect the data taken from the drones of the vessel. Gregs leaned in when they brought up schematics of the ship, showing the heart of the vessel, he looked up with his eyes wide in shock. The others then looked at the data and saw exactly what he did: the core was part of an Undine Planet Killer.
  
  ***
  
  "How did it get a Planet Killer as it's core!" shouted Gregs in frustration, "Damnit, no wonder we lost contact, they obliterated the whole station!" He slammed his fist into his desk, resulting in his knuckles splitting slightly, bleeding for a few seconds before his healing trait kicked in. They had moved to the ready room in the Subjugator, D'vek a Voth officer, and an Undine representative, were all gathered around the table, along with Ten of Ten, and Zinare.
  
  "I believe we can shed light on this matter, we've had many Planet Killers sent to the heart of Borg space before," it said, "before we had called a cease-fire, we sent a single Planet Killer and a squadron of Tethys ships to attack Borg space, the squadron was destroyed and we assumed the Planet Killer was too, though it seems a portion remained for the Borg to assimilate." At this Gregs punched the table again, and lowered his head, huffing in anger.
  
  "Gregs know this, it won't help you to be angry," says Ten, "The Borg King cares nothing for life, he will be able to destroy all resistance against him if he learns of the Omega Molecule, he has a weapon, now he needs an unending power source." The drone's impassive face turns to anger. "He destroyed all I care for," she says, "I won't let him destroy anymore life, I won't let him enslave this universe, because you were angry and stupid!" At that she winces, turning back to an impassive face, losing that little emotion.
  
  "She's right Gregs," Zinare says, "we need to focus on the threat of that the Borg pose now, we have to devise a way to destroy that ship before it can reconnect with the Collective." Gregs breathes heavily, takes a deep breath, then a thought comes to him.
  
  "Tell me Zinare, does Grey still have a copy of the Cordius shuttle?" he asks the trill. He nods, then brings up the shuttle on the view screen.
  
  "Please," he replies, "when she learned her shuttle was sentient, she practically treated it like it was her child, she made sure an advance in shuttle technology went to upgrading the Cordius, but what could we use her for?" At that Gregs just smiled, then turned to the Voth.
  
  "Tell me, did you ever run into an Iconian virus," he asks, "one that happens to blow up ships after causing massive failures?" The Voth nodded, and looked a little apprehensive when he did so, and Gregs chuckled. "Perfect, I believe I know what we can do," he says, "But tell me do you happen to have the Three Stooges mix onboard??"
  
  ***
  
  Stoogeium, Stoogeian, and Curly, a chemical mixture nicknamed after the Three Stooges, when mixed together with any material organic, preferably a specific specimen's, it could create a gaseous virus that could penetrate the targets body and saturate the D.N.A. in mere minutes. A mutated strain would be created, that would reproduce and replace the hosts D.N.A., and this dangerous mixture was classified a Class-Five Biological Hazard. While this mixture had the ability to cause destruction on a planetary scale, the separate chemicals had various uses in day to day life, used in rare medical cures, and anti-viral injections.
  
  Gregs hoped to use Undine biomaterial, along with a strand of artificial D.N.A. loaded with the Cordius A.I., to create biological weapon that would attack and weaken the Borg Kings Octahedron, allowing a strike team from the Star Subjugator to upload an Iconian supercomputer virus that would cause the vinculum and Octahedron to become inert and destroyed, either by the super virus, the strike team, or by Dyson Command ships. In order for the Borg not to notice this biological weapon, the three chemical agents were separated into a specialized warhead that would keep the three separate, yet allow it to combine with the biomaterial in a connected chamber. In order to penetrate the organic core, a secondary bio-molecular warhead would carry the first and penetrate the ship while delivering its activated payload.
  
  The Strike team, decked out in M.A.C.O. armor effective against the Borg, would infiltrate the Vinculum and attack the Borg King who would hopefully be neutralized by the biological agent, assuming he took an Undine as his host, and the rest of the plan was simple, to blow the Vinculum and Octahedron to bits. The team would consist of Gregs, Zinare, Kori, Drake, and Deisan, and six trained M.A.C.O. officers, all equipped with a variety of anti Borg devices. The plan was set into motion, and carried out in an efficient process, and ready in minutes.
  
  ***
  
  It had all gone so smoothly at first, in fact the strike team had reached the vinculum, an found an assimilated Undine laying near the heart of the vessel, partially suspended by tubules that hardwired it into the ship. Planting explosives, while a majority of the ship was fizzing in and out into darkness, two of the M.A.C.O. officers where about activate the weapons, when a clank was heard on the other side of the room. A majority of the men and women turned to this new sound, foolishly forgetting the Borg drones that where linked into the room, and found a major part had begun to activate. One of the M.A.C.O. guards in the rear had barely a moment to think, before a Kar'takin was impaled into her back. It hadn't gone all the way in, and was removed in seconds, opening the wound further, before it was closed by the Borg nanoprobes, as they began to course through her veins, and convert flesh into mechanical parts. The Jem'Hadar that held the weapon smiled wickedly, then turned towards the remaining members of the group, while almost all the remaining drones, except two who were near the Vinculum, left the room altogether.
  
  "So, you're the weak and foolish beings attempting to remove the newly acquisitioned data on Species 8472," it says, "Well, you may have ruined my new body and weapon, but the vinculum holds all the information on how to assimilate them, and my drones as we speak are already repairing my vessel." The Jem'Hadar was being lifted by similar Borg tubules as the Undine was, but from a separate area. "Are you surprised I survived your weapon?" he asks, "Well you shouldn't, though it was unexpected for you to revert to chemical warfare, I had plenty of time to prepare a new host." He looked horrendous, even for a Borg; it appeared to be a Borg drone converted into a new host for the Borg King's consciousness, half of its face was removed and replaced with a steel plate, as if an ocular implant was removed and prepared for a newer, updated one. The tubules were writhing around the midsection, revealing that there was no physical lower section to the Borg King, while others began to remove and replace mechanical parts on the upper body. "Ah yes, you've noticed the absence of my lower half," he says, "I have a special surprise I've created just for you insects." More mechanical whirs were heard and large artificial limbs ending in giant pincers were attached to the arms of the King, and a pair of legs were attached to the bottom via the artificial spine, creating a metal suit of armor, three meters high in total.
  
  Gregs then started to chuckle, then outright laugh at the Borg King with a huge grin on his face. "Please, I wasn't so foolish as to walk in here without a back up plan," he says, "and your internal sensors must still be affected by the super virus we uploaded, because we've just destroyed the Vinculum without you even realizing it, and while you reveal your plan to us 'insects'." At that the Borg King is confused, and checks his sensors, yes, there was only ten of the insects, one of them he had already converted and was elsewhere doing repairs, and their were two other drones repairing the vinculum, then it hit him. The massive body shifts to look at the two Borg drones at the vinculum, only to realize he could not control them. Ten of Ten and Soran Daria, another liberated Borg, had methodically isolated the vinculum and loaded it, and the area around it, with massive charges, refitted to react with the Undine core nearby and cause a chain reaction that would destabilize the Borg vessel and allow Dyson Command to finish it off.
  
  Turning back to Gregs, the Borg King was enraged, only to find that the majority of them had set up a field of chroniton mines ahead of them. "Crew, beam out now, and retrieve me a minute from now, and have the bridge crew prepare for an orbital strike at my location," stated Gregs. As they complied, Gregs looked the Borg King in the face. "So tell me, I've always wanted to know this," Gregs states, "Have you encountered Species 29 lately? Is that why you need to adapt?" The Borg King knew he was defeated at this point, and separates his torso from the metallic suit, to look his enemy in the face, honorably.
  
  "Species 0029: Iconians Pre-Age of Martok, Reclassification: Species 0047 Iconians, Statement: Resistance is Futile; they are coming, this universe and many others like yours and ours, will fall to them," he says, "I may fear Species 0047 for now, but if I can gain the perfect weapon, if I can overcome my own imperfections, I could save the universe from extinction or enslavement by their hands." He looks defeated for a second, looking down, then looks back at Gregs. "Is it so wrong to survive Gregs; I may enslave worlds, and yes they may loose their individuality," he says defensively, "but if it means overcoming Species 0047, I will never stop to achieving perfection, I must survive, the Borg will be the Arc that survives the coming war, whether here, or some alternate timeline, we will be the only things to survive, your puny alliance will not, because Resistance is Futile." In one last attempt at revenge, an assimilation tubule erupts from the Borg King, and attempts to convert Gregs, targeting the scar near the eye. Gregs is transported out at the last second, the tubule grasping nothing as their target transports to the ship, and in a fit of rage the Borg King screams out, and then he notices something else. The metal above him was warping, melting, turning orange in color, as the energy impacts the ships and tears it to pieces, incinerating the Borg King, turn his scream of rage, to one of pain.
  
  ***
  
  Bridge of the Subjugator
  
  It had been two days since the Octahedron was destroyed, and efforts were quadrupled to supply materials to rebuild and shore up the makeshift entrance blown in the side. No one wanted a repeat of this to occur, and everyone involved supplied the needed resources.
  
  The Subjugator on the other hand, had begun to make the necessary changes to send Captain Son'aire back to his world. He had been contacted by his double, and was already working on making sure the deflector was arranged similarly to the Breaker's own, so they could initialize the event that caused the switch.
  
  ***
  
  Breaker Universe: Two Days Ago...
  
  After activating a Tyken's rift, and then using the subspace jump function after they had restored the Solanae core, the Star Breaker had reached a safe distance between the Idran system and the Wormhole, and establishing orbit around a Y-class planet tomask their energy, the crew would rest for a day.
  
  *
  
  Grey was tired that evening, after everything that had occurred, and she just wished to sleep, but she had one final thing she had left to do, and she'd have to do it while in a fitful asleep. Zinuzee had offered her the Captains quarters, and while Zinuzee slept in a second bed that she had Gar'Atadar and Sharvan install for the night by Grey's request to not be alone, Grey tapped into the mental connection between Gregs and her. It was similar to hers and her own crews bonds, but was stronger then the others due to their own trials and experiences that made them compatible, similar to her own personal bond to Zinare. She began to transcend her own life force, going beyond physicality, and into a dream-like layer of subspace that spread across multiple realities, the layer some called Exosia.
  
  Strangely enough she noticed that color began to appear when she reached Exosia, and the mental cord between Zinuzee and Gregs took on a reddish hue, while her own took on a bluish hue. She also found herself among a group of red cords similar to Zinuzee's, representing Gregs' crew, and found her own red cord entangled among the swarm, then she decided to follow the cord to its source. She eventually reached a glowing white sphere of energy, deeper into Exosia then she had felt comfortable going, and when she grew near, the sphere pulsed once in blue, and hundreds of cords suddenly appeared in various colors and hues. Following Zinuzee's cord, she found it connect to a main line, which she followed back out of Exosia, until she noticed it intertwine with her own crews connections, and finally realized the main line must have been Gregs.
  
  After a few comedic attempts at contact Gregs, including whispering into the cord, knocking on it, and jump roping with it, she resorted to just tugging it and pulling it deeper into Exosia. Suddenly noticing a shapeless blob appearing, shadowed at first, and connected to Gregs' cord, it began to become more defined and revealed a sleeping Gregs. Soft snoring, the same she suffered with, was heard, and she floated closer to Gregs, her shadow, or what passed for one in Exosia, covered his place. Seeing he wasn't even awake, and knowing her own sleeping patterns, she decided to knock on his forehead, and did so promptly. Snorting as he was awakened, he looked around and saw Grey.
  
  "Oh, yeah, so totally dreaming, I must have received psychic residue from the ship," he says, and settles to go back to sleep, but then looks around, "Hey, is this Exosia, awww don't tell me I was kidnapped by a rogue Nacene again, I thought I whipped her butt last time?" Sighing to herself, Grey punched him in the head, and it full wakened the now irate man up. "Ok, Ok, I'm up, I know I'm rusty in projection but you didn't have to mentally attack me," he says rubbing his head, she had forgot that physically hitting him, would result in mental attack in the physical world.
  
  "Gregs, my name is Grey, I'm the one you replaced, and vice versa," she says, "I hope you weren't in much trouble having to replace me, but I can tell you your ship and crew are in fine condition and safe while we travel to the wormhole home." Nodding, he looks at the colorful cords surrounding him, grasping one in his hands, and letting gently.
  
  "So Exosia...just as depressing as last time I was here, but more...colorful?" he says, noting the lines connecting Grey and himself, "So, we can probably use this to keep in contact, and what, formulate a way to return home?" She nods, and then draws him up deeper into Exosia, back towards the sphere. Now instead of pulsing once, it pulsed twice, both blue and then red, and revealed not hundreds, but thousands of multi-colored and varying hued cords. "Wow," they both said at once. The brilliance of it all played across their eyes, and then they began to see various indistinct blobs of shadows, all realized to be different versions of Gregs, all linked to the massive sphere of light. Turning back to the problem at hand, after focusing again, they decided a plan to recreate the experiment that switched him, giving a date and time to the millisecond, so they could return to their normal lives.
  
  Before they both left, Grey grabbed Gregs by shoulders, and slapped him across the head. Stunned by the action, he was about to retaliate when Grey spoke up. "By the way fool, man up and tell Ziny you love her when you get back," she says, "It's painfully obvious gender seemed to play a factor in my love life, I practically had to slap Zinare before he realized I liked him, and I believe Zinuzee wants to do the same to you." Notably confused, he realized what she said, but she was back to reality before he could respond. Dumbfounded, he decided to keep that in mind.
  
  ***
  
  Solanae Gateway: Breaker///Jenolan Gateway: Subjugator
  
  After making it to the Wormhole, and relaying what they were going to do, the Star Breaker began to initialize a passive scan as they entered the wormhole, while entering the wormhole. Similarly the Subjugator did that on their end, and both ships experienced a similar EPS conduit failure, causing a surge in the transporter buffers.
  
  *
  Coughing as she fell to the floor, acidic smoke around her being sucked up by the environmental controls, and she found the familiar medical prosthetic of Ten, her Ten, and saw the familiar faces of her crew around her. She found herself crying in joy, finally safe and with her friends and family. She hoped Gregs was in the same position.
  
  Now the only pain was having to relate all this experience in an official log to Starfleet Command.
  
  *
  
  Coughing the smoke from his lungs he fell to one knee, causing him to lose balance and fall to his side. Knelling down to pick him up was Zinuzee, and places him on a stretcher. Smiling down at him, his mop of hair falling across his eyes, with him smiling back, it was perfect. She hadn't even noticed the scar on his arm, the one where his commanding officer had branded him, making him hers. It was a good thing her double didn't notice, or the ruse might have failed.
  
  Though it pained him to keep this ruse going, he had a duty to fulfill, he had to please his mistress, gain her favor so he could finally find out where he came from. Captain Zinuzee would be highly displeased if he failed to complete the plan for the invasion.
  
  *
  
  
  Coughing the smoke from his lungs he fell to one knee, causing him to lose balance and fall to his side. Knelling down to pick him up was Zinuzee, and she shoves him roughly into the arms of two security guards, her wicked smile showing on her face. Decked out in a Terran Imperial Admirals uniform, proudly displaying her Terran loyalties, the Trill woman held a dagger to his throat. "Hello Gregs, I'm glad I could make your acquaintance," she says, "I'm Captain Lexis Zinuzee of the Terran Imperial Starship Oregon, Iliad-Class, and you are now my prisoner... Welcome to your new home."
  
  Dragging him out of the room, Gregs thrashed until he was knocked unconscious by an agonizer. Captain Zinuzee was happy her plan had worked, and they had infiltrated their 'Mirror'. Maybe Admiral Quinn would promote her, maybe she could kill him in his sleep and take his position. After all it's not everyday you get an agent who could help start another invasion attempt, and all in the name of the empire.
  
  
  ***
  
  To Be Continued....??????

  0
• jonsills Member Posts: 10,360 Arc User

  May 2014 edited May 2014

  Captain Iain Burwell, personal log
  
  This whole thing is almost inexpressibly cool - at least from my point of view. I know the rest of the crew thinks of Deep Space Nine as an antiquated station, of "quaint" design - the basic design is almost a hundred years old, after all - but it makes the old McKinley Station, around Earth back in my day, look like a shopping mall. Which is kind of funny, because the first place you come into on boarding DS9 is the Promenade, which is basically a shopping mall. Even features the ubiquitous presence of Quark Enterprises, in the form of the original Quark's Bar and Grill.
  
  We've been here for two days, as the engineering crew is installing an experimental package into the William Clark's main deflector dish - a new sensor suite designed to scan some interesting side frequencies recently detected in the Bajoran Wormhole. So there's another first for me; first time I've been to this sector of space, and soon the first time I've ever been outside the Alpha Quadrant at all. I'm really looking forward to this, even if it is just another milk run. The ol' WC was never intended to be a front-line ship, after all, no matter how many scrapes we've gotten into - the Intrepid class is for exploring, not fighting.
  
  "Stand by to clear all moorings."
  
  "Standing by, Captain," the Trill first officer replied. "Station reports moorings cleared."
  
  "Mr. Melikk, signal the station, please."
  
  "Aye, sir," the Saurian communications officer responded. "Channel is open."
  
  "Deep Space Nine traffic control, this is USS William Clark, requesting clearance to depart. Heading is to the Wormhole."
  
  "Roger, William Clark, you are cleared to depart on previously-filed departure course. May the Prophets guide your path."
  
  "Thank you, DS9," Iain said, wincing slightly. He'd never been comfortable with overt displays of religious belief, even when there was something objectively real behind them. "Gohad, ahead one-quarter until we clear traffic, then best speed to the Wormhole. Donasea, is the astrometrics staff ready?"
  
  "Aye, sir," the Trill replied. "They've been pulling at the lead since we got the orders, in fact. A package prepared by the Bajoran, Cardassian, and Vulcan science groups? We'll learn more about that passage in the next couple of hours than we've learned over the past forty years!"
  
  Iain grinned. "Your enthusiasm is commendable, Dona. Okay, Gohad, take us to within, say, five thousand kilometers of the perimeter, then full stop and we can begin preliminary scans."
  
  "Aye aye, Captain," the Andorian helmsman answered. "Five thousand kilometers... mark, and engines answering full stop. Holding position relative to the wormhole." On the main viewscreen, the glowing whirlpool of the Bajoran Wormhole spun slowly.
  
  "You're on, Dona."
  
  The Trill bent over her console. "Commencing scans..."
  
  Sulda, the Tellarite engineer, suddenly sat straight up at her station. "EPS system reporting critical fluctuations!" she called out. "Overload immi--" She was abruptly interrupted by the scream of a klaxon, and a shudder running through the ship. "Correction, system overloaded. Explosion in the conduits in Astrometrics, hull breach on deck 12 is contained."
  
  "Power surge in the main deflector!" Donasea announced. "Neutrino flux from the wormhole is exceeding all previous readings!"
  
  You mean it's off the charts? Iain thought briefly, but suppressed it. He and his first officer/science officer had already discussed the idea of something being "off the charts"; she sometimes became irate while pointing out that the phrase merely indicated that you needed new charts. But now didn't seem the time. "What can you tell me, Dona?"
  
  "Not much, yet - wait, reading severe multidimensional spatial deformations, progressing this way!"
  
  On the screen, a brilliant tendril of energy flared out toward the ship.
  
  "Sulda, get a static warp bubble up now! If we're translated out of our space, I'd like to survive!"
  
  The Tellarite slapped at her console. "Field in place, but I don't know how well it'll hold against a spatial deformation like thi--"
  
  The bridge was suddenly empty, save for Iain Burwell in the captain's chair. The air was suffused with a white glow. From behind, a voice spoke. "This is an unexpected intrusion."
  
  Iain stood and turned. Admiral Forrest, head of the United Earth Space Probe Agency during Iain's earlier life, sat at Melikk's comms seat.
  
  "This is not the first time we have been intruded upon," came another voice. Iain turned to see Vulcan Ambassador Soval.
  
  "I get it," Iain said. "This isn't my first temporal anomaly, after all, and I read the briefings. You're the Prophets, right?"
  
  Admiral Quinn stood beside Soval. "This one is aware. The Sisko would say this 'saves time'."
  
  "There is still an intrusion," Forrest replied. "We come to the Sisko. But this one comes to us. And this is not foreseen. One may find this troubling. The Humans are aggressive."
  
  "The intrusion is unintentional," said Soval. "The Burwell does not know the scans cross spacetimes. He is misled by others."
  
  "Misled?" Iain was stunned. "Misled how? By who?"
  
  "The device is tampered with," Quinn explained. "The one who tampers wishes the Celestial Temple profaned. The one believes the device fails."
  
  Iain took a moment to untangle the tenses in the Prophet's sentence. "I see. So that power surge disrupted your space somehow?"
  
  "Yes, it does. But this is of little consequence." Soval this time. "What is of greater consequence is that we do not see this happening before."
  
  "We do not know of this word the Sisko gives us, 'surprise'," Forrest said. "We do not know surprise; it is a result of linear spacetime. Yet we are surprised by your appearance. We are given to wonder if someone seeks to attack us in ways we cannot foresee."
  
  "This does not change the Burwell's fate," Soval replied. "The Burwell is not of Bajor, but the Burwell is needed by Bajor."
  
  Iain looked about. "What? Why does Bajor need me?"
  
  "The Sisko demands that we remove pieces from the board," said Quinn, who was suddenly seated at a multidimensional chessboard. Iain took it for a regulation three-D board at first, until he realized that looking at it was making him nauseated at the parts he couldn't quite see. "But the game has rules. The rules do not permit pieces to be removed before it is time. we can take them from the board, but we must return them."
  
  "Huh?"
  
  "That's kind of my fault," came another voice, one with normal Human intonations. A tall, dark-skinned Human, bald and wearing the robes of a Vedek, entered through the illusory Bridge's illusory turbolift doors.
  
  "Okay, you I don't know," Iain said. "Captain Iain Burwell, UFP Starfleet, commander of the USS William Clark. And you are?"
  
  The man chuckled. "It has been a while, hasn't it? In a certain sense, anyway. I'm Ben Sisko - I commanded DS9 and the Defiant during the Dominion War." Abruptly his outfit changed to a Starfleet Captain's uniform from the late 24th century.
  
  "Captain Sisko?" Iain was confused. Well, more confused than he had been. "I thought you were on Bajor!"
  
  Sisko smiled. "I am - sort of. Time in here isn't what you're used to; an old friend of mine once described it as 'more of a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff'. You'll experience it linearly, because that's what your mind can accept. Our friends here see all time, and all possibilities, as one. That's why they're bothered by your presence here; usually they enter a mind telepathically while we remain in our normal spacetime, but here your ship is actually in their space. If it weren't for the warp bubble you put up, the whole thing would be simultaneously aging and regressing, and the people aboard would probably be lost. Good thinking on that, by the way."
  
  "But if they see all possibilities, how could I have surprised them?"
  
  Sisko's grin faded. "That's a good question. Apparently, they never saw you coming here; this wasn't even possible to them. You weren't supposed to impinge on their universe for some time yet by your standards, when you'll be a big part of a Bajoran crisis. That's the 'pieces' they're talking about. There was a Dominion fleet coming through the wormhole during the war. If they'd arrived, our forces would have been obliterated. It was one of the biggest turning points in the war. I demanded that they stop the fleet before it could come through."
  
  "The Sisko would have ended the game," Quinn said. "We cannot permit a game to end before it should conclude. We therefore remove the pieces. This cannot be permanent, else another game ends."
  
  "So they just displaced the fleet through time," Sisko concluded. "And since I refused to play that part of their 'game', I can't do a bloody thing about it. Starfleet stands a good chance of repelling the invasion, though - but apparently you and your crew are going to be an important part of that somehow. I can't see how, I'm not really a Prophet, but I can see that you're vital to that."
  
  "And yet there is an intrusion," Forrest said. "If we return the Burwell to its place in the game, this tells the one that its device functions. The one is then able to attack us here, without sight. This is dangerous."
  
  "But," Soval replied, "there is also danger in removing the Burwell now. He is not of Bajor, but he is needed by Bajor. This is difficult."
  
  "No, it's not," Sisko interrupted. "All you have to do is return him to his ship in the moments before it came here. I'm quite sure Captain Burwell will keep quiet about all this - right, Captain?"
  
  "Not a word," Iain promised. "After all, even if I did tell anyone, the only person who'd believe me is the one who tampered with my ship. And the only thing I want to encourage him to do is take a nice long walk out the airlock without a suit."
  
  The Prophets looked away for a moment. "The Burwell remains silent," Soval said. "We return the Burwell to the board. When Bajor has need, the Burwell returns without struggle. The Game continues." The bridge was suddenly suffused with white. When Iain's vision cleared, all had returned to normal; on the viewscreen, the tendril of energy that had enveloped his ship was withdrawing into the wormhole's corona. Alarms were still sounding, indicating a hull breach and loss of power.
  
  "It worked!" Sulda called exultantly. "The warp bubble kept the deformation from hitting us. SIF generators are redlining - recommend we return to the station soonest!"
  
  Iain shook his head. "Good idea, Sulda. Gohad, best speed back to DS9. Melikk, issue an emergency declaration - we need to get straight to the shipyard, no arguments from traffic control. Dona, get me a damage report as soon as they get things sorted down there."
  
  "Aye, sir," Donasea replied. She looked sharply into Iain's face. "You seemed a bit - lost for a moment there, Captain. Are you all right?"
  
  Iain nodded. "Thought for a moment we were going to go see these 'Prophets' in person, that's all," he said reassuringly. "And have the cleanup crews look for signs the new equipment might have been messed with - the True Way might have snuck someone into the installation group. Just a hunch."

  

  0
• proteusrex Member Posts: 62 Arc User

  May 2014 edited May 2014

  Captain's Log Stardate 91997.9 – Captain Dennis Alexander Merrik, USS Explorer NCC-92001-E
  
  Our colonization assessment on the surface of P4X-650 continues into its fifth day, so far we have identified a dozen potential locations for a new colony, though the final decisions will be made by the Federation Bureau of Colonization. I've received word from a research team on the surface. They believe that they’ve found something that will threaten the planet's viability as a colonization site. I'm beaming down now to see their evidence for myself.
  
  ---
  
  "Get back to the pad!" Dennis Merrik shouted as he helped a researcher scramble up the slope towards the portable transporter pad. Thunder and lightning crackled all around him and the air hummed with energy. The wind swirled around violently, carrying shards of sharp sand that cut at his exposed flesh.
  
  The ground was gravelly and uneven, making it difficult to traverse. The rocky surface was etched with strange scars and craters. It was these strange, dead scars on the surface that caught their attention from orbit.
  
  Merrik had been on the planet for less than hour when a strange invisible force appeared on the rock plain. It skipped and jumped in an erratic zig-zag pattern toward the research team. A subspace distortion, it effortlessly carved a jagged trench through the hard mountain rock. As it moved, it manifested purple-green lightning and violent winds that stirred up the jagged sand.
  
  He glanced back. Their mobile research tent disintegrated upon contact with the distortion, consuming whatever equipment the team hadn't grabbed in their hasty escape. Beside him a young science officer was also looking back, only to roll his ankle on the rough ground. The young man rolled into the dirt, his blue uniform shredding on the rocks. Merrik pulled him to his feet and wrapped his arm around him.
  
  Together, they made their way up the hill. At the top of the hill, Merrik could see the last of the researchers huddled on the portable transporter pad as a technician huddled over its terminal.
  
  "The ship can't get a lock." the technician shouted as they approached the "too much disturbance."
  
  Merrik cursed as he hoisted the young science officer onto the pad into the arms of the remaining researchers.
  
  He grabbed the technician’s shoulder and snapped his tricorder off his belt.
  "Get on the pad!" he shouted, as he shoved him up onto the pad.
  
  The portable transporter pad improved upon the traditional pattern enhancer design proving extra support to the ship's transporter. They were a relatively common piece of technology, something Merrik had spent a lot of time working on as a young engineer.
  He quickly synchronized the tricorder to the pad and used it to detect the distortion's subspace harmonics. He fed the data directly into a compensation routine that boosted the transporter lock.
  
  A few seconds later, the transporter shimmered and the research team vanished.
  Behind him the distortion grew closer. He flung himself onto the pad as the tricorder began to wail, the harmonic had shifted, and it needed a few seconds to recalibrate the algorithm. There was a crackle of lightning nearby and the tricorder squealed just as the transport began.
  
  ---
  
  Merrik scrambled to his feet as the transport finished. The tricorder continued to chirp loudly indicating that it was still synchronized to the transporter pad. He brushed the dirt out of his hair and tunic, and flipped the tricorder close to silence it.
  
  He took two steps off the pad before stopping in his tracks, something was wrong.
  Behind the transporter console stood a young woman. Though she looked familiar, he didn't know her and judging by the look on her face, she didn't recognize him either. Beside the door stood an older man in a security uniform, another stranger to him. The new Explorer was an Odyssey class, much bigger than the Sovereign class that previously bore the name. It was conceivable that he had not yet met everyone onboard.
  
  Merrik stopped in mid thought. That was the problem. This wasn't the transporter room of an Odyssey class, no, it was the transporter room of his first ship, the USS Explorer-D, the Sovereign class.
  
  "What's going on?" Merrik asked, as the security officer approached him. "Where am I?"
  
  "Please come with me sir." the security officer said firmly. The door hissed as a pair of additional security guards slipped into the room.
  
  Merrik didn't resist as the guards came up behind him. The first security guard relieved him of his combadge, tricorder and his phaser. It was a smooth and efficient transition becoming of a well-trained crew.
  
  A moment’s later, they were out of the transporter room, heading to the brig.
  
  ---
  
  Merrik sat silently in the brig. Every step from the transporter room was exactly as it should have been. While it was plausible that it could have been another ship, there were little nuances in the design that could only belong to his ship, a ship that had been scuttled months ago.
  
  The holodeck? maybe?
  
  The crew wasn't quite right either. They looked familiar, but he had never seen any of them before. They may have been wearing the modernized variations of the 2260 era uniform he had commissioned, but they weren't his crew.
  
  What kind of flawed deception was this?
  
  Merrik could hear boots click off the cell block floor, there were two of them, whoever was in charge had arrived. They stepped into his field of vision, a hulking Andorian with commander stripes, and a female human Captain.
  
  The Andorian in a security uniform was a brute of a man. His hair was buzzed short and his body was packed with muscle. He had the look of a stereotype military man, damn proud of what he did, and not willing to take any ****. Taller than Merrik, he looked down at him disapprovingly with familiar eyes. He was very intimidating and Merrik was happy to be on the other side of the force field.
  
  Though not particularly skinny, the woman was a muscular athletic woman with an hourglass figure. She stood several inches shorter than him despite the heels in her boots. She wore her uniform well and there was something in her stance that reminded him of someone.
  Under her makeup, running through her left eye was a jagged scar. It was a familiar scar, a wound from a console explosion during a young cadet's first mission. It was a scar he saw every morning, a reminder that decisions had consequences.
  
  It was his scar.
  
  "No way." he mumbled.
  
  He brought his face right up to the barrier trying to get a better look at her. Her blue eyes showed the slightest hint of surprise as she looked him over and her lips twitched as a smirk flickered across her face before disappearing again.
  
  "I look like my Aunt." he muttered in astonishment.
  
  "Who are you?" The Andorian grunted.
  
  Merrik glanced upward at the brute. His face suddenly made sense. If it was female. "Tak?"
  
  "Who are you!" The male Takerra growled again.
  
  This couldn't be true... Merrik stepped back and crossed his arms, suddenly suspicious.
  
  "Dennis Alexander Merrik, Captain, UX-379-701" Merrik replied stone faced.
  
  "But you already know that. Don't you? This entire simulation is for me isn't it?" He turned around and raised his voice as if to address an unseen observer. "But you got your facts wrong. I'm certainly not that... chesty..."
  
  "Captain Merrik." the woman spoke, a hint of humour in her voice, "I am Captain Alexa Merrik and you are a long way from home."
  
  ---
  
  In the future, Merrik would laugh at how paranoid he was by Alexa Merrik's claim. Despite the fact he had travelled to other universes before, the idea that he had beamed to a gender-reversed parallel universe seemed so unlikely compared to an Undine plot or Section 31 scheme. He needed proof that he wasn't being tricked. The woman claiming to be him was more than accommodating, she gave him access to the ships sensor data and medical scans and though it wasn’t his field of expertise, it looked legit to him. It wasn’t until she revealed her greatest secret, that she was a silverblood lifeform, did he sit up and pay attention. Afterall, he was the only known silverblood in his universe.
  
  With the discovery of his female counterpart, the rest of the crew made sense. He could see the gender opposites of his old crew and his friends.
  
  The differences didn't stop there, they were on his old ship. Two years ago in his universe, the ship became trapped in an Interphasic rift in the Zenas Expanse. He forced most of his crew to abandoned ship, while the few that remained onboard become trapped with him in the mirror universe. They spent the next 11 months under crewed, undersupplied and running for their lives. Ultimately Merrik sacrificed the ship to get them home. A fate his doppelganger seemed to have escaped.
  
  Now here he was; on a ship of ghosts, full of people who weren't alive in his universe.
  People he failed.
  
  "We'll get you home Captain Merrik." Alexa Merrik said, leading him down the corridor of the ship. "This universe is not ready for two of me."
  
  "Call me Dennis." Merrik replied. "Surnames are going to get confusing."
  
  Their strides were in-sync and they seemed to move in perfect rhythm. Behind him, the Andorian, T.K, followed at a distance, though close enough to step in and protect his Captain.
  
  "I was thinking the same thing." Alexa smiled, she gestured back to her first officer. "So tell me, what is your T.K. like?"
  
  "Takerra? She's my best friend. Strong, courageous and confident I’m glad she’s on my side.”
  
  He jerked his thumb toward T.K. “She's got all the strength, attitude and intimidation of the big guy here packed into a smaller, more appealing package."
  
  "So she's pretty?" Alexa glanced at the massive first officer, there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as her voice took on a playful tone. Dennis looked at T.K, the Andorian's face flashed with embarrassment. Alexa was taking a jab at her friend's masculinity.
  
  "Beautiful." Dennis replied, "and she'll break my arms for having said so."
  
  Behind him, T.K grunted and Alexa laughed out loud.
  
  ---
  
  They entered the science lab a few moments later. Inside the lab, Alexa had gathered key members of her staff. They were her inner circle, the people she trusted more than anyone else and the analogues for Dennis' own team.
  
  Working together over one of the lab consoles were two woman, a Klingon and a human, and it didn't take Dennis a second to figure out who they were.
  
  Like his own chief engineer, Lt. Commander Roca looked more like a Klingon grandparent than genius engineer. Her long black hair was streaked with grey and tied back into a long braid that ran down her back. Her skinny aging fingers flew over the pad defying their frail appearance. She looked up at him briefly and Dennis could see the years of experience etched on her weathered face, coupled with a spark of brilliance hiding behind her eyes. There was something else there, a confidence that Roclak had been lacking of late. Unimpressed by almost everything, she immediately turned back to her work, content to ignore the male Merrik.
  
  Working with Roca was tiny waif of a girl, Ensign Talia Adams. There wasn't much to her lanky frame and she looked like a child next to Roca. Like her counterpart, Thorin, she was fresh out of the Academy on her first assignment. Alexa had taken her under her wing as a favour to a friend. But despite this, she showed all sorts of potential. Her face blushed when their eyes met and she immediately turned back to work. There was a delicate innocence about her, something Thorin had lost during their time in the mirror universe. Dennis hadn't thought about it before, but it had been a long time since he had seen Thorin smile.
  
  Across the room at another console was a short heavy set Reman. Dr. N'Orl was a refugee who Starfleet Intelligence recruited for special sciences project under Alexa's supervision. To be honest, Dennis couldn't see any resemblance to her counterpart Dr. N'Orlock, but as he watched her work he could see him in her actions.
  
  "Alright kids." Alexa announced, her voice commanding their attention. "As you know, this handsome gentleman comes from an alternate universe."
  
  "Don't let the stubble fool you, he is variation of me, and that is seriously messed up.” She paused for a second before continuing. “We have to get him home."
  
  "The anomaly on the surface is still skirting around the rock plains. It's pretty amazing actually; it's almost as if it's 'fenced in' on the surface." N'Orl announced, handing Alexa a pad. "I've got astrometics trying to figure that one out."
  
  "It is likely the only thing connecting us to his world." Roca added. "The field dynamics are degrading and it will probably dissipate in the next few hours."
  
  "Not that it would be a terrible thing." N'Orl flashed Dennis a seductive smile. "He's cuter than you are Lexa."
  
  Dennis smiled uncomfortably. Apparently N'Orl was just as lecherous as N'Orlock.
  
  "Easy Doctor," Alexa warned stiffly.
  
  Trying to get back to the task at hand, Dennis approached the console to volunteer his abilities.
  
  "I was using a tricorder to help my team beam out. It may..." he began as he looked over the pad's data.
  
  "...have harmonic data to support our research." Alexa interrupted, finishing his sentence. "I've already sent Lt. Jermaine to recover it from quarantine."
  
  "Good." Dennis stepped back from the group. He answered a handful of questions relative to his universe, but other than pointing to a spot on the map to indicate where the transporter pad and research tent were set up. He quickly found himself edged-out by the group.
  Alexa and her team worked well together and answered each other's questions before they were asked. It was a feeling he had often felt of his own team and it was amazing to see the dynamic from the outside. Though the longer he stood there, the more useless he felt.
  
  Lt. Janine Jermaine stepped into the lab, clutching his tricorder, she immediately handed it over to Roca. Dennis' mind flashed back to her counterpart, Roland. A warlord had seized the ship just hours after they arrived in the mirror universe. While Dennis and Takerra launched their rescue plan, Roland stepped up to serve as mediator to buy them some time. Almost immediately, the warlord executed him and transmitted the gruesome images shipwide as an 'example'. His death had been slow, meticulous and painful. It was ultimately for nothing as the warlord quickly quashed their attempt and enslaved the crew. It would be almost a month before they could retake the ship, at the cost of even more lives.
  
  A pacifist in thought and action, Roland dedicated his life to science and the higher ideals of the Federation, only to die in vain.
  
  "You okay?" Alexa asked, her hand on his back. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
  
  "Yeah," Dennis muttered. A ship full of ghosts.
  
  "Come with me, let's get you a drink.”
  
  ---
  
  Dennis looked around Alexa's quarters while she was in the bedroom. All around him was evidence of a life so similar to his that it was unsettling. That said, it wasn’t the same, sure, a lot of the key milestones remained the same, but she had been raised a woman, and she had a different life and different experiences.
  
  He ran his fingers along an ancient flux coupler that belonged to his great-great-Grandmother, an engineer on one of the earliest Warp 5 vessels. It was an heirloom that ran in a family of Starfleet officers. He had lost his two years ago. It was good to see it again.
  
  The door hissed behind him and Alexa returned from her bedroom holding a bottle of alcohol and two hyposprays. Dennis immediately recognized them as the modified hyposprays used to capture and store the biomimetic material he was made of. Under normal circumstances, the biomimetic duplication was so accurate that his blood, sweat and tears looked and acted like their human counterparts. These hypospray cells forced the collected sample to revert to its original biomimetic form.
  
  Alexa set the bottle on the glass table in front of her and handed him a hypospray.
  
  "I've been ordered to collect a sample."
  
  "How romantic," Dennis mused, "you haven't even got me drunk yet."
  
  "They want to study another silverblood." She said, ignoring him.
  
  "Even if we're the same silverblood?"
  
  "You know how they are." Alexa shrugged her shoulders.
  
  Dennis nodded. His superiors would have ordered him to do the same thing. They'd love to look at Alexa's silverblood to see if it would help them crack the riddle of his existence. Why the material bonded to his DNA and no one else’s. Even so, it wouldn't be an order he'd want to comply with.
  
  "Before you say anything," Alexa said. She took the other hypospray, pulled up her skirt and pressed it against her thigh. A moment later, the hypospray cell was filled with the brilliant silver material. She pulled the cell out and set it on the table.
  
  "Quid pro quo."
  
  Dennis nodded, and used the hypospray, creating another small silver sample. He set it down on the table and scooped up hers. Whether the sample ever made it back to his superiors was something he'd have to think about.
  
  "Thanks." Alexa said, handing him an empty tumbler.
  
  "Where were we?" he asked.
  
  "11 months?" Alexa said as she topped off Dennis' tumbler. She sat the bottle down on the table and settled back into her chair, crossing her legs as she sat.
  
  "Yeah," Dennis replied, taking a sip from his glass. It was excellent tequila. If he had to guess it was probably Vulcan. "A year in hell."
  
  "We were lucky." Alexa said, "Roca's solution worked. It threw her shuttle clear of the rift and we followed."
  
  "Roclak's solution should have worked." Dennis mused, half lost in thought. "We've reviewed the data, simulated it on the holodeck, everything, and it all worked..."
  
  "How many?" Alexa asked.
  
  "87 in the mirror universe." he nodded, "Including Jermaine." He added as their faces flashed through his mind's eye. He could name them all. "33 died waiting for rescue on a Class-L after they abandoned ship."
  
  "I'm sorry."
  
  "You know," Dennis started, "I thought I was over it. I mean, as best I could be. Losing my ship, failing my crew. I thought I had moved on, but being here, seeing you, really shows me how much things have changed."
  
  "What do you mean?"
  
  "Everything seems so much better here, not like my world." Dennis paused as he twirled the sweet liquid around in its glass. "Roland's dead. Tak had her antenna cut off. Thorin's too young for that kind of trauma. Roclak went AWOL looking for us. He hasn't been the same since... My Chief of Security lost her legs and my CMO left Starfleet."
  
  "You lost your family," Alexa added, "and your home."
  
  "and myself." Dennis added. "I did things that got very close to compromising everything I stand for. What if I crossed a line I can't come back from?"
  
  "It seems to me." Alexa took a sip of her own glass. "If you can still see the line, you haven't passed it."
  
  Silence settled on the room and a few minutes passed before Alexa spoke.
  "Did you ever talk to Gramps about Wolf 359?" Alexa asked, leaning forward.
  "No." Dennis replied, "He never spoke much about it, he was a pretty quiet man."
  "Well just before he died..." Alexa stopped. "You missed it didn't you? He died while you were gone."
  
  "A year in hell." Dennis replied solemnly.
  
  "I'm sorry."
  
  "Not your fault. What were you going to say."
  
  "I sat down with him on his death bed." Alexa said deciding to continue. "We talked about his life as an admiral in the fleet, commanding a ship, raising a family."
  
  "When the Borg decimated the fleet at Wolf 359, a cutting beam carved up the ship like Christmas roast. A handful of them in the saucer survived, but most were lost. I don't know how the battle faired in your universe, but if it was anything like ours we were looking at the single largest defeat in our history. Having survived that, there were commendations, a new ship and they sent him right back into the fray. Starfleet can be pretty callous sometimes, especially when they're licking their wounds.”
  
  “He used to say 'you don't fight for what you lost. You fight for what you have.’" Alexa leaned forward, her voice dropping to a deeper, sympathetic tone.
  
  "I can't tell you that I know what you went through, and I know there isn't much I can say that magically make it better. But you got your people home. You may have lost a lot, but you're far from having nothing left."
  
  "Things are getting bad out there, and a lot of people are counting on us to step between them and the darkness. It’s no different than before or during your trip in hell. You fight for your family, you fight for your home, you fight for everything you have."
  
  "Was I ever that inspiring?" Dennis asked, as he finished his glass.
  
  "Ask your crew." Alex replied.
  
  The communicator chirped and Alexa answered it. "Merrik here."
  
  "Captain," Roca's voice began. "We've isolated the harmonic pattern of the distortion. We can send him home."
  
  Dennis sat up in his chair and set the tumbler down on the glass table.
  "I told you they'd figure it out." She said proudly.
  
  "I never doubted it for a moment." Dennis nodded.
  
  "We're on our way."
  
  ---
  
  Dennis stood on the transporter pad in front of the Alexa and her senior staff. Behind the transporter pad, Roca and N'Orl hovered over the controls.
  
  "We have a few minutes until the next window." Roca announced.
  
  "Probably our only chance," N'Orl added.
  
  "Well, it's been fun." Dennis announced, feigning a yawn and a stretch. "But I should get going."
  
  "Good luck Captain." Alexa announced as she stepped up on the pad. "I hope you get home."
  
  "Me too." Dennis agreed.
  
  His female counterpart handed him his tricorder and several data cards.
  
  "I've downloaded our sensor data on the Zenas Incident, hopefully it'll give you some answers."
  
  The second data card was marked personal. " I know you missed his funeral. I know it's not the same, but..."
  
  "Thanks." Dennis smiled. He knew his face was mirroring hers.
  
  Alexa stepped down from the transporter pad and nodded to Roca.
  
  "Commence transport when ready."
  
  The Klingon nodded and turned back to the console. Silence hung in the air as the group waited for the transport. Dennis expected a verbal countdown or something to break the silence.
  
  He laughed to himself, Roclak wouldn't count down either...
  
  “Jermaine.” Merrik turned to address the older scientist. “I know this will sound weird. But I need to tell you. I’m sorry. Sorry for everything, sorry for not being there when you needed me.”
  
  He felt the transporter whine and the strange dimension faded away.
  
  A moment later he was back on the rock plain of the planet. The anomaly was gone and the air was silent. The sun had set and the stars were lighting up the sky. Uninhabited planets always had the best stars.
  
  "Merrik to Explorer." Merrik announced, tapping his communicator.
  
  "Explorer here." Takerra's voice chimed through his communicator, it was filled with relief and
  frustration.
  
  "One to beam up."
  
  ---
  
  Merrik came out of his small kitchenette just as Takerra stepped into his quarters. Like him, she was off duty and out of uniform. He noted that her outfit was a bit more feminine than her normal style. He had to wonder if talk of her hulking masculine counterpart was the reason.
  
  She was the last of his friends to arrive. His girlfriend, Layla, Thorin, N'Orlock and Roclak sat comfortably around the room chatting among themselves, and enjoying the drinks and snacks he had replicated.
  
  The main course, delivered fresh from the galley was scheduled to arrive within the hour.
  
  He handed Takerra a drink and watched as she settled onto a chair.
  
  “Things have been difficult the last few years.” Merrik began. “We’ve been through a lot and we’ve lost even more. But we survived.”
  
  “This new Explorer is a fine ship, and we’ve got a fine crew. The Federation is going to be leaning on us, on all the ships in the fleet, more and more as things heat up out there. I can think of no better group to stand by my side. It is an honor to serve with you, and I hope that it continues.”
  
  “I want to put ‘it’ behind us. I want to move past the loss we all suffered. But we can’t, not yet, for reasons you’ll soon understand. Reasons that I think may still have bearing on our lives.”
  
  “I've been looking over the sensor data I received from my female self.” He began. “In that world Lt. Commander Roca's solution worked, and their ship was tossed free of the rift. They never got stranded."
  
  Merrik could see Roclak shift uncomfortably in his seat, he was not impressed that his female self outsmarted him.
  
  "At first I thought it was a dimensional difference. Some hiccup in the multiverse, but then I looked closer." he tapped his desk and a wall panel lit up. "I compared it against the data from our Explorer's computer core. Roc's original solution was identical... all the conditions were identical... In fact almost all of it was identical."
  
  "Almost all?" Takerra caught on.
  
  "Almost," Merrik confirmed, "all but this, a phase discrepancy in the deflector."
  
  "That is impossible. I calibrated it perfectly." Roclak snarled. He stood up and approached the screen. He reached up to start analyzing the data. "I did not make a mistake."
  
  "You didn't. All diagnostics agree with you." Merrik agreed. "We never would have noticed it without the other Explorer's data. Someone or modified our computer core, it put a skew on the sensor data, the diagnostics and your calibration.
  "
  "But that means..."
  
  "It wasn't an accident." Merrik said nodded. "It was sabotage."

  0
• masopw Member Posts: 157 Arc User

  May 2014 edited May 2014

  Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 87032.34
  
  I've got a bad feeling about this.
  
  Glinn Durak and his team from the Cardassian Science Ministry have been...well...difficult to deal with. Doc Irve says the Glinn's stepped out of the history books...the one that details the Dominion War. Durak is condescending, arrogant, and aloof. And that's just to his own team. I won't go into how my crew feels about him...but if he tries to engage me towards another discussion about the ethics of the Cardassian Occupation, I'm going to suggest he fine tune the deflector dish himself.
  
  From the outside.
  
  Without an environment suit.
  
  But I digress...
  
  Brr-deet!
  
  The door chime caught me off guard. Standing order on the ship is that when the Captain storms off the bridge, you do *not* follow him unless he tells you to do so.
  
  And I made it quite clear I needed some time alone to cool down.
  
  "Come," I growled towards the door.
  
  The door slid open, but the person on the other side did not enter. The person's shadow indicated they had taken a step back after activating the chime, but was still within the door's sensor range, preventing it from shutting down.
  
  "Oh, Captain," came the sly voice of the Cardassian researcher. "On Cardassia, one tells livestock to 'Come'. On our vessels, the polite thing to do is state the person's title and kindly invite them inside."
  
  I bit the inside of my cheek hard, wondering if I drew blood this time. I counted silently to five, then, through gritted teeth, said, "Allow me to accompany you to the auxiliary science station, Glinn Durak."
  
  I didn't want his foul stench to permeate my ready room.
  
  "I'm quite surprised, Captain," Durak said. I expected the alternate Odyssey bridge, the dual level version, where my work would not be interrupted by the day to day activities and tediousness of shipboard operations. I thought your ship was equipped with that version. It is ever so effective."
  
  I threw Durak a tight smile. "Perhaps some find it so, Glinn, but I prefer to have all my stations visible."
  
  "You should reconsider, Captain. It is less efficient for you to be distracted. You should swap out your bridge at the next opportunity."
  
  I swallowed, and let my smile widen a bit. "I will give that suggestion the time it deserves, Mr. Durak, and act accordingly."
  
  He didn't catch the sarcasm. "Very well, Captain. As allies, we should do what is in the best interest of all parties." He motioned to a PADD he carried under his left arm. "Shall we proceed with the test of the new sensor array?"
  
  I swept my right arm out, exaggerating a courtesy, 'after you' motion. "Please...let's do so. I can't wait to see the results." And for you to get off my ship before I toss you off it.
  
  Sotek stood at Auxiliary Science One, the station we determined would best fit the needs of the test. Moreso...it was the one where the MACO could keep their eyes on every move the Cardassians made. L'naa suggested that one...as Durak wasted no times in making friends on board the Bonaventure, with his complaining about outdated couplings, and how could the newest Starfleet vessel still use Type 3's when even Cardassian Garbage Scows used Type 6's.
  
  I was glad that Sotek had stayed on temporarily to command the Rouge Valley, Bonaventure's Aquarius. Scuttlebutt said that construction of a new Luna to replace the Honolulu was almost finalized, and that the Fleet was going to offer Sotek the center seat. The inquest was over, and Sotek was absolved of any blame in the loss of the Honolulu...but he was having doubts about taking command. He proved to be an excellent commanding officer...but it didn't hold a candle to how good a science officer he was.
  
  Durak cut in towards Sotek's console with a curt, "Commander."
  
  No, "Excuse me."
  
  Nothing.
  
  L'naa rolled her eyes before shooting Durak daggers. She pursed her lips as if to hiss something at him, but instead turned away, motioning for Ensign Manes to relieve her. The short blond looked downwards as she took over Auxiliary Science Two, not happy about having to played liasion with the Cardassian delegation.
  
  That might be punishment enough to take away some of the demerits she's racked up. Maybe I can arrange for her to be detached to the Cardassian Science Ministry for an extended assignment...
  
  Durak was oblivious to the signs of discomfort the crew showed, barking out commands to fine tune the new scanner system. He was chomping at the bit to point the dish at the wormhole in order to, as he put it, "Find out what these so-called Prophets are really made of."
  
  He actually said that last night, in front of a packed rec room.
  
  Good thing Chief had deployed extra MACO's to augment our regular security. I think their presence averted an interstellar incident from occurring.
  
  I looked around the bridge. The hostility towards Durak was practically dripping off the faces of my crew, and he ignored it. I don't think he was ignorant of the non-verbal cues...I think he was deliberately provoking them to get them upset.
  
  And it made me like him even less than I did this morning.
  
  Which wasn't very much.
  
  Durak clapped his hands together, as if quieting a class of children. "Attention. We are commencing start up of the type five array. All hands report when you receive feedback."
  
  The crew looked to me, wondering how much more of this clown I was going to take. I subtly motioned with my hand, telling them to put up with Durak just a bit longer. They weren't happy, but as a great crew does, they complied.
  
  "Ops, standing by."
  
  "Astrometrics, standing by."
  
  "Engineering, standing by."
  
  "Science Two, standing by."
  
  Sotek leaned back towards his controls, saying, "Science One, commencing test of the type five array." He tapped a few controls...only to be rewarded with the deck heaving up under our feet.
  
  "Report!" I shouted, making my way to the center seat.
  
  Sotek ran over to the Master Systems Display. "We have an explosion in Deflector Control. Primary EPS conduits are down. Secondary systems...also down. Auxiliary systems...impossible..."
  
  I didn't like the sound of that. "Define 'impossible'."
  
  "Similar to the definition of 'interesting', but with less religious connotations," Sotek deadpanned.
  
  Damn.
  
  L'naa joined Sotek at the MSD, tapping the console a bit too hard. I recognized that habit as her not being pleased with what she was seeing, and I was curious as to what...besides Durak...had made her upset.
  
  "Reading no life signs in Deflector Control," she said.
  
  I closed my eyes. "Four casualties?"
  
  "No...no readings, no trace organic matter...nobody is in Deflector Control, and nobody has been there since last night."
  
  Before I could try to make up, a Bajoran wearing the blue of the science division walked up to me and stood at attention.
  
  Not a good sign.
  
  "Captain," the young man began, and I scrambled to remember his name. "We cannot allow the heretics at the Bajoran Center for Science to desecrate the Celestial Temple. I am sorry to have damaged the ship...but it is necessary...as is this."
  
  He pulled a phaser from behind his back, pointing it at Durak. "His kind just mean to continue his experimentation on the Bajoran people. This is unacceptable...and we cannot stand for it! The Emissary would never permit this to happen...and neither will we!"
  
  A brilliant flash lit up the bridge, but it wasn't from the phaser.
  
  It was from the Wormhole.
  
  Damn.
  
  Everyone on the bridge shielded their eyes from the glare, except the MACO detachment in their armor. They did what I'd expect them to do, moving with lightning speed to disarm the Bajoran despite the Bonaventure being pulled into the Wormhole under protest. The deck heaved to and fro as if we were caught in the grips of a tremendous wave, and we were some rickety wooden sailing ship from the past. The shaking became worse...and then as soon as it started, was over.
  
  Again, I called out, "Report!"
  
  Sotek was, as usual, ahead of the curve, bypassing the damaged sensors on the Deflector Dish and using our secondary pallets. "Give me a few moments to make this out," he said.
  
  L'naa walked over and sat down to my left. "No casualties. I scanned the ship for the crew who should have been in Deflector Control. Biosigns show them as unconscious in Starboard Cargo Bay 5." She sent a glance towards the Bajoran, who was now being held up against the bulkhead by a huge Andorian twice his size. "Looks like a remote detonator on the primary EPS conduit. He is good. If he set the explosive on the secondary conduit, shock waves would have ruptured here, here, and here. That would have made this lab depressurize...and kill everybody inside."
  
  "Medical teams--"
  
  "Already on the way," she said.
  
  I got up and strode towards the Bajoran. I hooded my eyes menacingly, asking, "Any more surprises today?"
  
  He cast his eyes downwards. "No, Sir. I didn't mean for anybody to get hurt. Honestly...just wanted to prevent the experiment. It's wrong!"
  
  The only reason I remained calm was that nobody was hurt. "There are different ways to do that," I said quietly. "Proper channels. But I'm not going to argue religion now--"
  
  "You must respect the Prophets!" he interrupted.
  
  I ignored him, continuing,"--and need to know if you've done anything else to my ship, or to the crew."
  
  "The Tears of the Prophets...you must respect the Celestial Temple."
  
  I got into his personal space and jabbed my finger into his chest.
  
  "I know Benjamin Sisko. Respect him greatly. And he would be appalled at the action you have taken. Putting lives at risk...you could have petitioned your Elders. But you didn't." I took a step back, and calmed my voice. "You will have to answer for what you've done...and the first answer I want is to know if you've done anything else to this ship."
  
  He slammed his eyes shut. "No. Sir. Nothing else." A tear ran down his cheek. "I failed to execute that Cardassian targ. I should have just shot him last night and overloaded the test device then. But I thought an accident would discredit him more and prevent him and his kind from ever desecrating the Celestial Temple again."
  
  L'naa nodded at me, telling me she ran a scan against the first device, finding nothing similar elsewhere on the ship. She'd follow up with precise scans for other explosives, but I hoped that the Bajoran didn't go through a diversion with one type of explosive only to use a more potent kind elsewhere...like on the Warp Core.
  
  "This is not over," I said. "You will answer for your actions. But not now." I motioned to the MACOs to either side of him. "Get him off my bridge and into the brig."
  
  The Bajoran went slack with resignation, and didn't attempt to say anything else.
  
  Durak was bright with rage as he stormed over. "Captain! This is unacceptable! A person would never be able to get a phaser on a Cardassian Bridge! I've never been so offended!"
  
  I had enough of his squawk for the day.
  
  "No...because they'd use a disruptor instead. Or a knife. Or..." I threw up my hands. "Or anything! Don't you dare lecture me on my own ship about the 'good old days'. As a captain I've had to read all about those times....about Dukat. About labour camps. About comfort women." I took a deep breath. "Do not mistake my patience and courtesy for submission. I put up with your garbage over the last week because I'm trying to make a difference in how the Federation and the Cardassians get along. I've even got crewmen onboard whom I've shared kanar with, and leaned much about your people. But they aren't *your* people...because you're just a special specimen that stands out from the rest. And unless you want to float home in a lifepod, you'd better get off my bridge."
  
  "Well, I've never--"
  
  "And you better treat my crew with the courtesy you've demanded but not shown from now until you disembark. Because if you do not...you will not disembark in the manner in which you embarked. Do I make myself clear?"
  
  "The Federation Council will hear--"
  
  "--About this, yeah, yeah. Evs." I motioned towards the turbolift. "Escort our guest to his quarters."
  
  I saw the grins on my crew as security took Durak by the upper arms and lifted him into the turbolift.
  
  "What?" I asked to nobody in particular.
  
  Sotek smiled and threw me a shaka.
  
  "Nice one. But you are not going to like what I am about to tell you."
  
  I sighed deeply. "Go ahead."
  
  He motioned out to the viewscreen. It looked similar to fluidic space, but not as dense. An ocean of blue and green gasses swirled around, broken up here and there with what looked like black crystalline masses.
  
  "Look familiar?"
  
  A similar scene had greeted us recently. In a search for a missing runabout, we came across a region of anomalies similar to this. The gasses were a sentient race of beings who had psionic powers. Early Tellarite and Andorian research ships used a sensor frequency which proved harmful to them, and they lost some of their young. The parents of the lost went mad and took revenge on an innocent Starfleet Cadet who was delivering the runabout. Because of the temporal aspect of their existence, they ended up torturing her for years until she beamed herself off the runabout in wide dispersal. The society policed themselves, and were taking the guilty parties into custody when we promised to leave them alone.
  
  But this was a scale much, much, much larger.
  
  "Sotek...want to tell me why what looked like a shard a couple of centimeters long looks like it's not a couple of kilometers long?"
  
  "I ran it twice. We stay one ornament."
  
  Damn!
  
  We devised a code long ago based on prior Starfleet records.
  
  And Sotek just told me that we've been shrunken to the size of something you'd hang on a Christmas Tree.
  
  "Call Counsellor--" I started.
  
  The turbolift doors opened, and Loranna staggered out. "Captain," she whispered. "Why are we back here?"
  
  "Long story, Counsellor." I bit my lip, knowing how difficult the next request was going to be. "Loranna...are these the same beings we've previously encountered?"
  
  "Yes...and..."
  
  Her eyes glazed over, and her head lolled to the right. She spoke again with a hollow voice.
  
  "No come. We no send. Them run. You no stop. You carry."
  
  "This is Nico--"
  
  "Same, but small now," the voice interrupted. "Other ship small, but big. Carry progenitors of the lost. You move them out of home ours."
  
  I took a deep breath, and held it until my heart beat slowed. These beings could sense our feelings and play with our perceptions when we slept, but I didn't know if they could do so when we were awake. "We took your word that those that harmed our 'child' would be isolated. You say they ran. Did they board the other Starship?"
  
  A huge, jagged black mass rushed towards the Bonaventure. A dark voice rang out from Loranna, "Die! Fear! You small now! We crush! Crush your bones! Crush your eyes! Rip and pierce! NOW!!!"
  
  A purple blob formed around our ship, then rushed off to meet the crystalline spear that threatened us. It surrounded the ebony mass and carried it off towards an area filled with similar evil-looking rocks. I looked past the area where the purple blob held the black masses at bay, and thought I could make out the aft end of a runabout's nacelle.
  
  It was humongous.
  
  Loranna's voice grew soft as she said, "We promise protect you. Bring progenitors of the lost home. We isolate. No experiment on you fear. Peace. No hurt us."
  
  L'naa walked over and whispered in my ear. "It looks like they believe that we are here because of their escapees."
  
  Sotek joined us, quietly saying, "Agreed. They are asking for peace when we are the ones who violated the agreement we came to."
  
  I glanced to each of them, thinking of what to do. "Do you think they believe we hold a tactical advantage?"
  
  Sotek took a moment to think that one through. "They must be curious as to why we have shrunk in size. We do not know what role size plays in their society. They ask us not to hurt them...they must believe we are here to exact vengeance."
  
  "If only they knew the truth."
  
  L'naa shushed me. "You sure they can not read our minds when we are awake?"
  
  "Good point. Ok...other small ship...the Kualoa?"
  
  Sotek answered, saying, "Most likely. Their reports I have read over the past few weeks speak of her crew suffering nightmares on the way back to Sol. These beings say that some of their guilty had 'run away'. Perhaps the Kualoa inadvertently took some of them when it departed."
  
  Loranna's voice called out, "No hurt us. Bring back guilty. We isolate. We keep forever. You no return forever."
  
  I raised my voice, motioning towards the viewscreen. "We have no desire to harm you. But we must know how you are affecting our people."
  
  Loranna answered quietly, "No tell you."
  
  "How can we trust you when you will not provide information?"
  
  "We tell you, you destroy us. Crush us. No can permit."
  
  "How can we bring your escapees back if you do not tell us how to do so?"
  
  "Bring we lawkeeper to escapees. We isolate. Bring lawkeeper and escapee back home. Never come again."
  
  I looked over to L'naa, widening my eyes. She tapped out a few controls on her console, running a simulation. Sotek duplicated the simulation, and they nodded to each other.
  
  "We can configure one of our storage facilities to transport gaseous matter safely, in isolation. We can beam it...I apologize. We can beam them onboard, and when we rendezvous with the Kualoa, let them take the 'escapees' into custody."
  
  The cloud glowed three times brightly. This was the way the beings indicated "yes".
  
  I turned back towards Sotek and L'naa, quietly asking, "How exactly are we going to account for the fact that we're now the size of a model ship?"
  
  A bright glow engulfed the bridge again, and the Bonaventure was no longer a speck of dust in a gaseous ocean. Instead, I saw a blob of blues and green gas off to starboard. The field wasn't that large...but was large enough to fully contain the remains of a Runabout, which bobbed around the eddies and vortexes that these beings lived amongst.
  
  Loranna's head tilted the other way, and she spoke gently. "You normal now. Kvalsh make you small when you make Kvalsh angry. You send Kvalsh noise from...from...sen-sorr. Hurt Kvalsh. Kvalsh send you here."
  
  Sotek raised his eyebrow, and I asked, "Is Kvalsh a Prophet? A Pah-wraith?"
  
  He shrugged his shoulders slightly, tilting his head as if to say, "Damned if I know."
  
  L'naa tapped some more commands, and frowned at the results. "The sensor upgrade...it emitted chroniton radiation..."
  
  "...which is harmful to beings like that." Sotek concluded. "These beings here...they may be a offshoot from the Prophets or the Pah-wraith. Look...the colours they use are quite similar to those in the Bajoran Wormhole."
  
  I bit my lip, hoping that these beings wouldn't somehow realize just how powerful they were. They were afraid of *us*?
  
  I called out towards the cloud again. "We are preparing a suitable area in which to transport you to our home, so you can collect your people. We will enclose you in a containment field so that you will not be disturbed by our crew by accident. Is this acceptable to you?"
  
  The cloud pulsed three times.
  
  "Very well. We will advise you when we are ready to transport your lawkeepers aboard."
  
  The cloud pulsed three times, and a series of blue and purple blobs moved close to the edge, waiting for our signal.
  
  Loranna shook her head once, then held up her hands to her temples. "Captain...if you don't mind...I'm going to go rest now. These interactions are not...pleasant."
  
  "Hold on, Counsellor." I motioned for her to join Sotek, L'naa and I. "We can't take the chance of one of these beings pulling a fast one on us. So no, Loranna, don't rest. I'm ordering Doc Irve to dose us all with stimulants...and if we run out of those, some of your nasty coffee, Sotek. Nobody sleeps until we get them to Utopia Planitia and back. No sleep, no nightmares."
  
  L'naa nodded, and Sotek said, "A prudent choice. Not a popular one, and I have no doubt that Doc Irve will register a complaint."
  
  "About your coffee, no doubt," L'naa said. How exactly is it you can't get a replicator to make a simple double double is beyond me."
  
  I smiled, hoping that this plan would work. "Hopefully we won't have to find out if you still mess up a simple Kona blend, brah. Oversee the transport personally...we can't afford to have mistakes. I'll go call the Kualoa and tell them to expect company."
  
  ********************************
  
  Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards, Sol System
  
  Commander Marrow rubbed his temples as he tried to get rid of a headache. He suffered them ever since the destruction of the Honolulu, as he didn't land quite right when the emergency transport put him ten meters above the deck of main engineering. While his shattered leg was repaired, it was still painful, and that old Doctor on the Bonaventure told him to expect that for some time. Nice bedside manner, Doc, Marrow thought. His interim assignment was to oversee the refit of a number of ships that came to Utopia Planitia after some disaster or another.
  
  He picked up his cane, stood up shakily, and walked over to the porthole. He had just sent orders for work to cease on the Kualoa until further notice, and to quarantine the ship as well. He wondered what it was this time, but then caught himself, remembering the promise to ignore rumours.
  
  Rumours in a time of war were dangerous. They could sap morale as much as a loss, so the Commandant of the Fleet Yards make a new slogan for officers to pass on: "Take it with a grain of salt." Hopefully that old saying would remind people to not believe everything they hear.
  
  The junior officers were quite fond of that saying for some reason. An inside joke, perhaps. They even created plaques last week that held a grain of black crystal, above which was a brass sheet stamped with the saying. They hung up those plaques in the mess deck of each ship that passed through the Yards.
  
  What was it? Seven, eight ships in a week? Marrow pondered. Would have been nine, but now we've got to shelve the Kualoa.
  
  His leg was hurting now, way up from the ache he felt earlier, and he sat down on his couch, taking another dose of analgesics. He put his feet up on the small table in front of him, wondering just why it hurt the most when he was tired.
  
  On the sole of his boot, a small black rock was wedged amongst the treads. As Marrow grimaced in pain, the rock pulsed three times, over and over and over...
  
  ******************************

  0
• gulberat Member Posts: 5,505 Arc User

  May 2014 edited May 2014

  The Tales of Alyosha Strannik
  LC #64, Prompt 2
  
  "Self-Reflection"
  
  
  Something's not right!
  
  The hum of the transporter beam was all wrong, and I could feel the waves of energy washing over the shuttle and through the beam as it took me.
  
  Sir, I must say, Ensign Wikiriwhi had been saying, you are a veritable magnet for these things. The whole scenario was indeed so much like the nebula survey that had swept a shuttle crew--and me, somehow, from the bridge of the Chin'toka itself--back to the day before terror winged down onto New York City. So we'd started beaming people away as the anomaly approached, but then it was upon us--and for me, it was too late.
  
  But as I materialized in the transporter room of the Chin'toka, I finally allowed myself a sigh of relief: whatever it was, it was over, and I was alive.
  
  “Alesya, I thought you'd never--”
  
  And all of a sudden, there was Thraz, slapping his commbadge with alarm, fear, even anger coursing across his features as he fixed his antennae and his mind upon the transporter pad.
  
  “Thraz--what's going on?” I asked. “Are you all--”
  
  I didn't get to finish my sentence. In a white-blue flash, Thraz shoved the human transporter operator away from his console--how could I not recognize him?--and the next thing I knew, I was materializing...
  
  ...in the brig of my own ship.
  
  I didn't recognize the Caitian man standing guard any more than I had the transporter chief. How could this be, with the small crew I had, that I could fail to recognize two of my people in quick succession? The Caitian's great gold eyes went wide at the sight of a Starfleet captain's unexpected arrival in the brig--his captain!
  
  Yet...there displayed no more recognition on his face than I could truthfully reflect on my own shapeshifted features. Nor did he seem to realize the other thing I sensed undeniably upon my entire form: that there were high-powered interphasic sensors running inside the brig--so my escape would not go unnoticed if I were to try something. Open capture of a Devidian would be a completely different matter from this covert method.
  
  Why were there people aboard my ship I didn't know? Why this hostile stranger's welcome, from Thraz of all people? Something was badly wrong--and it had not ended with my beam-out. What happened? Was I suspected of harming someone? Was this Admiral T'Nae's bizarre way of beginning an inquest, somehow? She might believe, I suppose, that a scandal such as permitting a deadly Devidian into the ranks of Starfleet ought not be allowed to fester--better, then, to keep it as closely under wraps as possible.
  
  I shook my head, sitting down peacefully so as not to alarm the unknown Caitian...who come to think of it, had a tortoiseshell fur pattern that reminded me an awful lot of Chief Ruuim. That put a shiver through me: Ruuim had actually seen me once, in my natural form--but Thraz had convinced her that she'd seen one of the hunting party instead...not a deeply, deeply unsettled version of her captain. If somehow the suspicion hadn't died...
  
  Except the tufts at his cheeks and jawbone made it clear that he was not her. Very, very odd.
  
  I decided to hazard a question, once I'd sat down. “Chief, I don't suppose anyone's said anything...but do you have any idea what's going on here? Or is someone planning on coming down here to explain this to me any time soon?”
  
  The Caitian flicked his ears back. “No idea other than that you're not supposed to be here...but it sounded like the commander is supposed to come down shortly.”
  
  “Not supposed to be here? This is my--” But then I caught myself. I couldn't afford to sound too testy. That was a quick way to invite a very dangerous degree of scrutiny. Or worst--get myself stunned and knocked out of phase. So I shrugged instead. “All I know is that I am very, very confused. And I'm starting to think maybe I don't really know where I am.”
  
  And the more that I looked at my surroundings--especially as I took in the full 360-degree view that my photoreceptors afforded me--the more I started to notice little things that were off. It was aesthetics, for the most part, and not great differences, at that...but there was something about the Caitian's uniform, even something about the colors, the curves, and lines in the brig that didn't quite look as I remembered them. I couldn't put my finger on it, exactly...but the more I considered it, the more I began to suspect I was in an alternate universe.
  
  I considered reaching out telepathically for Thraz. I knew who he was, at least--but even then...the way he'd reacted to seeing me, I dared not assume that the contact wouldn't be taken as aggression. Better to wait. I had a few days, at least, before I absolutely had to feed...I had taken my normal precaution of doing so not long before departure.
  
  But what happened if and when someone decided to bring me food and drink...and I refused it? I had a number of strategies for that under ordinary circumstances--but they relied on having at least some time where I wasn't under constant scrutiny, or at least some basic freedom of movement. In captivity, regardless of what sensors had been programmed to do in my presence...assuming, based on the lack of panic aboard this version of the Chin'toka, that they somehow still were...it would become apparent soon enough by my actions and inactions that my biology was far from normal.
  
  There was nothing to do, for the moment, but wait and hope that Thraz arrived soon.
  
  
  
  Finally--though I didn't think that much time had actually passed--Thraz returned.
  
  Except...now that I got a closer look, there was something ever so slightly off about his visage. He stood roughly the same height--I recognized the shape of his sightless eyes and the hue of his vestigial, clouded irises, the way his antennae sat on his head, but his features seemed less refined, his cheekbones and jawline carved more sharply, and his overall proportions seemed a bit more solid than the man I knew.
  
  I'd been wrong. This was not Chirithraz th'Valek after all. My God...this could be hopeless, with no one to vouch for me...
  
  “People do call me 'Thraz,'” the uncanny Aenar said, echoing my surface thoughts. His voice was a few steps deeper than the man I called my friend, a touch harder. “Kartathraz ch'Valek.”
  
  ch'Valek, I thought to myself. But Thraz--my Thraz--never mentioned a twin chan-brother...
  
  Suddenly it made sense. The Caitian--somehow he was Ruuim's male counterpart. The transporter chief--thinking back, I got the strong sense that in this place, he stood in for Aasiya Maal. Except who knew what this Chief Maal's name was? The reason I hadn't caught onto the pattern immediately was that Aenar, like their Andorian brethren, had not two but four genders, two of which they permitted other species to refer to as male, and two of which generally related to females. Thraz, too, had changed--but from thaan to chan.
  
  “Commander,” I said aloud, “my name is Alexei Ivanovich Strannik. If I understand correctly what's happening here, you may know someone very much like me in your universe.”
  
  Ruuim's counterpart gasped--so I was right.
  
  “But...” I spread my hands apart from my sides. I hoped ch'Valek knew where I was leading with this. I hoped he trusted me enough--or, more accurately, trusted her enough--for this. “I understand that there are many universes out there, and some with extremely dangerous differences. At least, I've found that to be true where I come from. So I hope that I'm right...that our universes, our Starfleets, and our selves are similar enough that there might be enough common ground for trust.”
  
  This was a risk I would ordinarily never take in a captive situation. But in spite of Kartathraz' harsh initial reaction, which I now understood, he still clearly had told no one the full truth about me. “Scan me,” I invited. “Test my intentions. You have my permission.”
  
  “I accept,” the Aenar said. Without turning he ordered, “Chief H'Ruut, cover me.”
  
  I closed my shapeshifted eyes, but I did not fully shut off my photoreceptors. Please don't let me lose form, I thought to him as I sensed his initial inquiries.
  
  I do not expect that will be necessary, ch'Valek thought. Even the feel of his telepathy was...different. Carved in somewhat sharper relief, much like the contours of his face.
  
  I am safe, I thought as ch'Valek dug deeper. I caught a sense of someone through the link--too faint to develop a distinct impression of, for the memories were too tightly guarded to yield their secrets, but just tinged with just enough of a note to confirm my guess. As safe as she is. I am not a hunter; you don't have to worry about me. I am going to hope that the fact she serves in Starfleet means you have the neuroelectric generator in your world too...but know that if I can't go home, and I can't feed...
  
  Just as she would, ch'Valek replied, and broke the deep contact. “I apologize for the cold welcome,” he said aloud now. “Chief, you can lower the forcefield. This man is not of our universe--but we lucked out. He's not from one of those 'mirror' universes. Definitely not that sort of mirror, at least. It seems that no one he remembers has the same gender that we do. Apparently my counterpart is a thaan.” A hint of a laughing smile crossed his face as I stepped out of the holding cell. “What a thought. I'd probably have to order some smaller uniforms...”
  
  “I guess I would be female there,” Chief H'Ruut said. A wistful look fell across his face. “Who knows--maybe I would have kits.” When I focused my telepathic sense on H'Ruut's surface emotions, I sensed there was something deeper to his words than I understood. Something it would not be right for me--a stranger to him--to pry out of him, by thought or even by voice.
  
  “We had better find a way to get you back where you belong,” ch'Valek said.
  
  “And to get your captain home, too,” I added. “What did you say her name was again?”
  
  “Alesya Ivanovna,” ch'Valek replied as we stepped out into the corridor.
  
  “I would imagine my crew--and Alesya Ivanovna herself--are working to get us back to our respective ships as well.” Assuming, of course, that she had arrived safely aboard my Chin'toka. “But whatever the case--have you established any connection with the other side?”
  
  ch'Valek negated the notion with a twitch of the antennae. “The anomaly has an irregular periodicity--we have a comms probe deployed, but zh'Sherrin hasn't received any response to our signal yet.” zh'Sherrin? I thought to myself. Not th'Sherrin? The pattern made sense with nearly everyone else, but the Andorians and the Aenar...I wasn't sure I'd ever figure that one out.
  
  But there were more pressing matters, anyway--like getting in touch with home. “Maybe I should have a look at what you're doing. I might be able to help you home in on my ship and my universe. I know our systems and protocols. And I don't know if your Alesya Ivanovna is the same, but I have a solid working knowledge of exotic space-time phenomena. At least, the observed kind...that might be enough to help us figure out what this.
  
  “Now...I do understand that this is not the Starfleet where I have my commission. So I respect there are some things you may not want me to see. And I admit...I'm bound not to share everything from my world, and it sounds from what you said about a mirror universe earlier that you've probably had some ugly encounters yourselves. But I think we're going to have to come up with a balance somehow, if we're going to get us back in our proper places.”
  
  And I at least had reasonable assurance not just from ch'Valek's mind, but from the general emotional tenor of those we'd passed in the hallway, that these people were worried for their captain, for word would have spread quickly--but probably not on high alert, at least. Nor did my neuroelectric sense suggest the kind of fight-or-flight response that might indicate preparation from battle...or the sort of near-panic cognitive dissonance that came from trying to hide a massive fabrication. True...there could be unintentional deception at work; there could easily be impressions and emotions I had missed, or I could misinterpret my senses. But my overall assessment of the situation argued against it.
  
  “We will devise a plan shortly,” Commander ch'Valek said aloud. Then he switched to telepathy--though the contact felt more...distant than what I normally associated with a voice like this one. Dr. Sei will also need to look you over first. He is well familiar with Alesya's physiology, but given your interphasic nature we want to make sure we have a fully accurate picture of what that looks like in your universe before we start making calculations.
  
  I neither nodded nor gave outward acknowledgment. Understood, Commander. And if you should make contact across the anomaly before we're through...please let me know.
  
  You will be the second to know.
  
  
  
  
  “If it weren't for the voice you speak with, and your mannerisms,” Dr. Jianil Sei said once I had shifted into my natural form, “I would hardly be able to tell you apart from Alesya. It's obvious with a tricorder, but otherwise...if you spoke in her voice...you might as well be identical twins.”
  
  I chanced a question--I could not be sure how much this version of Sei would divulge on the events of his universe, but it was worth a try given what my friend had done following the incursions. “Have you ever autopsied a Devidian?” I asked. “Did you ever have the chance?”
  
  “I have,” Sei replied. “They attacked this ship once.”
  
  I felt the energies crawling over my skin--and in natural form, both Sei and I could see it. Somehow, I had a feeling it was the exact same incident, through a strange, gender-reversed mirror. Even the ship's name, I had seen, was still the Chin'toka, which strongly suggested the Dominion War had taken place in some form here just as it had at home. The improbability of it all was absolutely staggering.
  
  And so was the thought that Alesya Ivanovna had endured the same thing I had. “If I understand the way things work here...she was outed, wasn't she? Just like I was.”
  
  “And nearly died,” Jianil reflected somberly. “It was so strange, though...I guess it's harder for me to get, coming from a society where we join, and where part of me is genderless and probably only somewhat different because of the different host experiences. But it was so strange to me, the way people from some worlds reacted to Alesya. I at least get it with Selle; the way she was treated growing up, it's no wonder she has such trouble associating a woman with such power.”
  
  “On top of everything else it would've meant for her to see what...” I almost said, see what I was. “What Alesya is.” Her counterpart, the Ferengi Selk, had been terrified on a horrible, instinctive level that exceeded the fear most other species felt towards...well...apex predators. I thought back to my childhood in St. Petersburg. “I would imagine it was the same for the humans. I can't say I've had the experience--I have the ability to do so if I wanted, but I would feel almost unclean taking a form that isn't the one I made for myself. But I've seen the subtle assumptions people make sometimes. I wonder how much harder it made things for Alesya...not just to be dealing with the part of her that is separated from humanity, but to be facing something that--well, it's not supposed to be a liability anymore. But...I don't know whether it's hardwired or whether it's culture...but sometimes it still is.”
  
  Dr. Sei tapped on his console, then turned to me. “Would you like to see what she looks like?” A hidden smile crossed the joined Trill's face. “I get this feeling you might be impressed.”
  
  “I can't feel attraction--” I started to say.
  
  Sei's cryptic smile grew a little bigger. “I didn't figure you could.”
  
  First her Devidian form displayed...and Sei wasn't kidding: Alesya Ivanovna was indeed virtually indistinguishable from me. The image barely even registered as belonging to a separate person; it felt more like looking at a 2-D photograph of myself than anything.
  
  In her human form...she diverged a bit more from my chosen human appearance than most of the other members of this crew appeared to diverge from the looks of their counterparts--but then as with me, her form was a crafted one: a work intended to suit her needs and reflect her self in a way the humanoid world could understand and fully communicate with, without resorting to telepathy to make a complete connection.
  
  If there was one thing that resembled my own form, though--it was the kind brown eyes and the smile, which on her, positively radiated. She wore her brown hair long, but simply and unadorned: the sort of thing she wouldn't have to struggle too greatly keep her focus on. The other thing I noticed, besides the facial features she had clearly selected as I had, with expressiveness and openness...readability...as the primary consideration, was the fact that, even with the ability so many women were badgered into dreaming of by the media and the age-old expectations drilled into them even in the 24th century, that she had not preserved in human form more of the Devidian thinness and height that in the most distorted body concepts a humanoid could carry, would represent their painful ideal of 'perfection.'
  
  Rather...with all the choice in the world, Alesya Ivanovna had selected a look that the harsh world of fashion would label as 'voluptuous' or 'full-figured' in its kinder moments. 'Plus-sized' or 'fat,' in the cruelest ones. Yet had I seen these same proportions on a human woman, I would not have assumed her to be unhealthy or out of shape...and at least for me, as a starship captain, that was all I cared about: was each member of my crew fit for duty and in good health according to the medical standards of their species? A woman in my crew with that look, in many species to include humanity, likely would meet those criteria.
  
  The overall impression I gained of Alesya was of someone wanting to project an image of kindness and approachability, not too short but not too tall...and a sort of solidness of figure, someone sturdy enough not to blow over under the slightest breeze. But for that choice I wondered how often she had been subjected to disapproving looks, or 'advice' on diet and exercise that would have made little more sense addressed to a true human than to a shapeshifted Devidian, or just written off by some as lacking even basic self-respect.
  
  I could see now, however, why Dr. Sei--who had the medical grounding to know what a woman who appeared as Alesya did could really be like--had said I would be impressed. “Humans and a lot of other species look to the outside first on women, far more than they do with men,” I said. “I don't envy her that. There's so much more that's expected of her than there is of me. No one cares much if I let my hair get messy unless I have a formal contact. If it is for her like it is for me...it's hard enough for me. I would imagine it's hard for her to remember to attend to things like that. To have to keep it untangled, even styled. But people are incredibly harsh judges of women. One strand out of place, one curve they don't take a liking to...” I shook my head. “I have to hand it to her. For choosing...normality, when the world would have you think that 'normal' is a holostar figure and real normality is a defect.”
  
  “I had a feeling you'd be able to see it, sir. You two do have a lot in common.”
  
  Curiosity rose in me once more. I had a feeling this wasn't going to work--and normally I would never even dare ask the kind of question I was about to, not just for the regulations but for personal reasons--but I had to try anyway. I had to know. “Doctor, you don't think...I might be able to have a look at her medical records? If they're as detailed as mine are, there could be so much I could learn about my own biology from it. I wouldn't be sharing it anywhere in your universe, of course. But could I see?”
  
  Gently, the Trill shook his head. “I know why you're asking. But I think you also know why I have to say no.”
  
  We understood each other.
  
  “Now,” Sei said, “I'd better get the quantum and phasic signature scans done, so we can figure out a way to get you home. If you'd just lay on the table and use as little telekinesis as possible...”
  
  
  
  Commander th'Valek and Dr. Sei...Jiana Sei...sat next to each other at my desk in my ready room. God, as clichéd as it's become to acknowledge it, it felt so incredibly good to be back home. I knew it had to have for Alesya Ivanovna as well. I hadn't spoken to her when the two Chin'toka's finally managed to get a clear signal across the anomaly, but I had caught a brief glimpse of something, another silhouette wrapped in transporter energy. We couldn't make out each other's visages, but somehow I knew she had been looking back at me in that split second before my home became more real, and finally solidified beneath my feet.
  
  “There's one thing I find myself wondering,” I said, reflecting on the experience. “I'm assuming there was just one genetic alteration between her and me. And most of our life experiences, if I had to guess from what I heard over there, were probably similar. But there were...things that did seem just a little different. She's dealt with things I've never had to. Enough that I found myself thinking, is she different enough from me to show that I am not the only one of my species who is or will ever be capable of living with others? That maybe somewhere, in some time, there could be at least one other who makes it?”
  
  “Maybe so,” Thraz--Chirithraz, not Kartathraz--replied in the smooth tones that I associated with the name.
  
  I looked over at Dr. Sei. “Did she ask you for my medical records?”
  
  “She did,” Jiana Sei replied. “I told her no...doctor-patient confidentiality.”
  
  For a moment, I focused everything, giving no priority to one set of photoreceptors over another. This amounted to focusing on nothing at all, and accordingly I directed my shapeshifted eyes off into space.
  
  “I understand,” I finally acknowledged, turning my eyes back upon her. “But just this once...if I had been around to tell you, I would have given you permission to do it. I know how she feels: now she knows she's not the only one out there, searching for answers.”

  
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• hawku001x Member Posts: 10,758 Arc User

  June 2014 edited June 2014

  The Prometheus-class U.S.S. Phoenix-X held a tractor beam to the Ferengi marauder Jade Fox over a vast, unexplored planet in the Delta Volanis Cluster.
  
  "How dare you launch several hackneyed, variant-Genesis torpedoes into this planet's atmosphere," pointed tactical officer Armond, who stood up from the Captain's chair.
  
  On screen, DiaMon Cide crossed his arms, unequivocally, "Hey, I'm under a lot of pressure as the next CEO of Slug-o-Cola. I need to convert as much organic matter into algae as possible!"
  
  "Now that we're here, do you mind if I ask a few Ferengi questions? Like, what is with kissing the staff with the creepy head? You do know it's not a real person, right?"
  
  ---
  
  Meanwhile, an away team of Seifer, Kayl, Lox and Kugo scoured the planet, below, with tricorder readings at the edge of algae-converted land.
  
  "Who are we to interfere in Ferengi affairs anyway?" Operations officer Lieutenant Kayl asked, while scanning.
  
  Captain Seifer stopped and closed his device, "Well, you could've brought that up before we tractor beamed him. Remember when I said 'Options' and everyone started twiddling their thumbs?"
  
  "I believe our answer was clear," Chief engineer Kugo interrupted, "when the crew started humming the theme to Data's 'Lifeforms' song. Cide had no regard for the possibility of intelligent life on this planet, or any, in his operations."
  
  Seifer shook his head, "Intelligent life is the worst."
  
  "Fascinating," Lox commented as he threw several rocks into the algae, where they all bounced and landed on top of each other in eerie, perfect order, "It appears I have discovered something eye-brow raise worthy."
  
  Kugo stopped him from throwing another, "Doctor, we must not engage in mystery investigation. We have far too many side missions in our queue as it is."
  
  "That's because we got verily click-happy in our Available Missions tab," Lox replied.
  
  Kayl closed her tricorder, "Captain Aeris of the Zephyra never gets these lame-o tasks. Not to mention, she slept with three aliens last week."
  
  "Really? That's the kind of Captain you want me to be?" Seifer deadpanned.
  
  Kayl shrugged, "Well you aren't advancing diplomatic tiers any time soon."
  
  Suddenly, a few large explosions through the daylight sky turned their attention upwards. "Phoenix-X to Captain Seifer," came Armond's voice over the comm, "Cide's starboard hull exploded from unstable torpedoes. We pulled his ship to safety, but explosions continued in the area we evacuated and now an anomalous spacial disturbance is growing in place."
  
  "Armond," Seifer tapped his commbadge to respond, "That was really great narration."
  
  There was a pause, and then the sound of a tearful: "Thank you, sir. That... that means so much to me..."
  
  "Are you two done?" Kayl tapped her commbadge, "That anomaly is going to interfere with this atmosphere! Need I remind you that many atmospheres are our breathing apparatuses?"
  
  Armond's voice snapped out of it in time to dismiss her, "Oh, like you know anomalies." There was another pause as the phenomenon grew in size, "Ah! An anomaly! --Hastily beaming you out now."
  
  "Very well," Seifer nodded, "After all, all the best dematerializations are done in haste."
  
  Everyone nodded in agreement before transporting occurred in twos: Lox and Kugo were beamed out first, then Seifer and Kayl entered into transport.
  
  ---
  
  But when the last two appeared on the transporter padd, they found themselves exactly where they expected to be-- on their ship!
  
  "What the hell is going on here??" Seifer looked around in shock. A second later, he realized there was nothing odd about being on the ship, as expected. "Oh, sorry. I guess I just got a little excited."
  
  Kayl pointed to the transporter operator, who appeared to be the female version of who was meant to be standing there, "Uh, you forgot to look hence-wise."
  
  The female officer swung out a phaser at them, "Hold it right there, you intruders!"
  
  "We're not the intruders; you're the intruder," Kayl argued.
  
  The officer paused for a moment, to consider it, but quickly became sly to Kayl's silver-tongued ways, "Ahhh, nice try. You thought perhaps you could combat a misunderstanding with another misunderstanding. Well, those kinds of conflicts create mental super novas."
  
  The doors swished open and in walked the male version of Lieutenant Kayl: Lieutenant Kyle.
  
  "Oh, ugh!!" Seifer recoiled.
  
  ---
  
  Later, Seifer, Kayl and Kyle met privately in the Conference room of the Phoenix-X under armed guards.
  
  "As I said," Seifer continued, "I'm sooooo sorry about my initial reaction to your face. It was completely inappropriate and brutally truthful."
  
  Suddenly, the female version of Armond, Amanda, entered the Conference room to the sight of Seifer and Kayl, "Ah! Yuck! No!" She quickly readjusted her demeanor upon realization, "I mean, why are our decalithium radioactive pulses not reverting you to your basic creepy, bug-like forms?"
  
  "We're not Undine. We're from a parallel universe," Kayl explained.
  
  Seifer recoiled again, "Lens flares!?" He looked around in panic and then stopped, "Dammit; second time this month I did that."
  
  "Rather than indulge in rational cause and effect, I suggest preferred accepting of regular quantum reality shifts as a characteristic subject to our exploits," Kayl offered.
  
  Seifer looked at her, "You're lucky that this is the future and it's normal for people to talk like that."
  
  "Wait. Quantum reality? You're riding the coattails of Worffina, Son of Monga's Enterprise-D quantum fissure, parallel universe travels!" Amanda exclaimed.
  
  Kayl nodded, "Indeed. Her excursion-- his, in our universe-- was the last original outside-of-the-box adventure left in existence. All dimensional displacements afterward were unavoidable rip-offs."
  
  "We brought you two up here because our Brig was full of Benkarans, but now I see we should have vapourized you immediately."
  
  Suddenly, the ship's power drained drastically, causing the lights to flicker and the gravity plating to jolt everyone off their footing. Amanda and Kyle scrambled out to the Bridge, prompting Seifer and Kayl to follow.
  
  ---
  
  On screen, the spacial anomaly flung out bands of energy as the nearby Ferengi marauder Jade Fox fed a deflector beam into it.
  
  "A sporadic dose of omicron particles have knocked our engines offline, and not theirs, and now, for us, there's no way out of here!" Kyle reported quickly.
  
  Seifer turned to him, "All that I'm getting from your direction is 'blah-dy blah, blah, look at meeeee'."
  
  "By the manly beard of Mirror Uhuro," Amanda cursed in fear as she stared at the viewer, "We'd been trying to scan that anomaly for the past ten minutes, but the Ferengi own half this solar system and wouldn't let us get near it."
  
  The female version of Ensign Dan, an Ensign Danni, turned from the helm very quickly, "If you must know, they won the area in a tongo game from a pair of Ornithoid lifeforms."
  
  "Ahh! Oh! Ugh," Seifer tried to cover his eyes, "Sorry, it's just that I wasn't expecting to see you in this universe."
  
  Ensign Danni stood up, "You, sir, are as offending as the Enterprise-C. I'm relieving myself from duty!"
  
  "Is she gone?" Seifer slowly uncovered his eyes and looked around. "Oh good."
  
  Amanda fearfully pushed Seifer aside and stepped forward at the view screen, "Phoenix-X to Ferengi vessel-- please stop your space-poking at once!"
  
  The screen clicked on to a view of a towering female Ferengi, DiaMon Cida, "You don't give me orders, Humaaan! I'm the head of Slug-o-Cola, the largest conglomerate in Ferengi history; I own fleets of marauders, cruisers and modified casino ships: all of which are loaded with lobi-laced rapid fire missiles inexorably tied to latinum-plated tachyon mines!"
  
  "All we have right now is the Gekli non-combat pet," Kyle reported from tactical.
  
  Cida slammed her fist into the arm of her chair, "The point is I can do whatever I want, any time I want, and right now, thanks to your arrogance, I want to continue my actions until your ship explodes!"
  
  The screen then blinked off and returned its previous view.
  
  "Wait; the Ferengi are a female dominated society? How does that work?" Seifer scratched the back of his head in confusion.
  
  Amanda nodded, "Better than you just so rudely insinuated-- You see, because women run the Alliance, the Ferengi are the most efficiently powerful species in the Alpha Quadrant. Actually, during the Dominion War, the Jem'Hadaire were a close second. Oh, how I envy their birthing chamber practices."
  
  Kayl crossed her arms, "It doesn't matter; some Ferengi make such arrogant rich people! Last week, our universes' DiaMon Cide purchased a crate-load of spherical law-of-probability gambling devices; you know, the kind that were once used on Deep Space 9, during that racquetball match that everyone couldn't shut up about?"
  
  "Our Deep Space 9 became a wasteland for ketracel white addicts," Amanda countered hopelessly as she slumped into the Captain's chair, "Thus eliminating one quarter of our other-Starfleet crew case studies-- If you're wondering, the NX-01 Enterprise doesn't count."
  
  Another wave of super-charged omicron particles suddenly hit the Phoenix-X, surging power and blowing control panels.
  
  Seifer climbed himself up against the Bridge's side rail in delayed realization, "Dammit! Cide used those law-of-probability devices to modify his genesis torpedoes, assuredly leading us into the least probable universe to ever exist."
  
  "Talk about a weapons buff-- or is that a nerf?" Kayl commented.
  
  Seifer walked over to Amanda, dispiritedly, "If only time had no meaning here and I could go to the mountain top on Veridian III-- That place has always been my dream escape from all this; and it's surely a spot where Captain's are safe from danger and--"
  
  "Not all Commanding officer's are ensured safety," Amanda surmised half-heartedly, "Our's is below decks, sick from drinking Slug-o-Cola in a failed attempt to impress DiaMon Cida. You see, I can't give you any advice, Seifer; I'm not a Captain with command experience," she paused, "But I bet I know someone who can..."
  
  ---
  
  As Seifer entered Holodeck 3, Lieutenant Commander Amanda's departing words continued in his mind: "And from her point of view, she just got here too..."
  
  In awe, Seifer approached a woman chopping wood in the side yard of a mountain top cottage, in the Alps, "Seifer... Nikki T. Seifer," he said to himself.
  
  "Beautiful day," she stated whilst continuing her chopping.
  
  The male Seifer slowly approached, "Yes, it certainly is."
  
  "Would you mind?" The female Seifer indicated to a pile of unchopped logs.
  
  Catching on quickly, "Oh," he picked one up and put it in place for her. "Captain, I'm wondering, do you realize--"
  
  "--Hold on a minute," she distractedly interrupted, "Do you smell something burning?"
  
  Pointing quickly, he said, "Yeah, do you realize your house is on fire?"
  
  "Dammit!" She dropped her axe to face the developing disaster, of which her holographic Great Dane was barking at. "Computer, delete house and dog." When they disappeared, she turned to face her male counterpart, "Sorry, that Slug-o-Cola did a number on my egg-frying focus. Chopping wood usually makes me feel better, despite it being the worst activity anyone could ever want to do."
  
  Seifer tilted, "Do you even realize your ship is in danger?"
  
  "I'm too critically compromised to command. Trust me; my actual appearance is being covered up by photons and force fields. You do not want to see how I actually look right now. It's gross. Like, really, really disgusting. Take what you're imagining right now and times that by ten. I got the holography idea from the Talosians," she assured, "Besides, the Phoenix-X has served its purpose as the Federation's transwarp network test ship-- granted, we did hastily run through twenty-five Phoenix-ships to get here, but we can't allow Captain's to get bored for one second."
  
  She slowly collapsed in exhaustion from her illness and energy expenditure, and the male Seifer tried to help her down easy.
  
  "Just let me go, Seifer," she continued, "I don't have any advice for you. My only regret is that I was never the Captain I should have been."
  
  He watched as she closed her eyes slowly, "I will let you go," he replied, "and I'll notify your family personally-- no matter how offensive my appearance will be."
  
  "What? I'm not dying," she snapped, "I'm just passing out for a few hours. Different thing! This isn't an epic tale, you know; everything doesn't have to be dark."
  
  ---
  
  Entering the Bridge, the male Captain Seifer saw nothing but fear and horror in the gender-inverse crew, and he knew he had to do what his female counterpart tried to do when she drank the Ferengi beverage.
  
  "I'm taking command of this ship," he took the chair, "What do you guys think of the name Nightingale?"
  
  The male version of Kugo, Kojo, spoke up, "Unfortunately, after Harriet Kim misused it, that name was banned everywhere for any reason."
  
  "AAHH!" Seifer fell off his chair at the sight of Kojo. "Okay, you have to take a station behind me-- Just... just don't be in my peripheral vision."
  
  He quickly hailed the Jade Fox and Cida blinked on screen. "YOU PITIFUL HUMAAANNS are quite liberal with your communication technology, aren't you? That's annoying to people. Not just me-- All kinds of aliens you encounter. We hate it. We've all spoken about that and agree."
  
  Seifer stepped forward, "DiaMon Cida, don't make us all suffer death from your bountiful wealth. It's far too abundant and impressive for our impoverished lifestyles to handle."
  
  "Nice try with the passive flattery, but Ferengi thrive on that kind of manipulation," Cida smirked. "How do you think we sold the Bajorans to the Cardassians?"
  
  The Captain's jaw dropped, "That was you??"
  
  "Of course! There's always a sinister, unforgiving motive behind all galactic events: the Hobus star, the Changeling morphogenic virus, Leeto and Ram. --Well, my assistant is giving me the 'wrap-up' sign. Time to die. Sorry about the short notice---"
  
  So, this was it. The end of the line and Seifer knew it. There was nothing else he could have said to change the tides. He gave it his best effort, and failed miserably. Hopefully, some history database, somewhere, would remember him as a good Captain... a semi-competent one who at least stuck to his values.
  
  "--I'll go out with you!" Seifer reached out his hand quickly.
  
  Suddenly, everyone stopped what he or she were doing and turned to look at him.
  
  "You mean, like, a date?" Cida found herself stumped as well.
  
  Seifer nodded, half-sure of his not-so-thought-out impulse, "Y-- yes."
  
  "Hmm," Cida paused to consider this. "I've never actually spoken to a clothed male in person before. There's something... interesting about that."
  
  It was all he could take to hold in his sickly shudder, "Yy... yes... 2100 hours?"
  
  "A male with a dominant attitude? Is that even possible? I shall have to see this with my own eyes!"
  
  As the screen clicked off, the crew turned to look at Seifer in utter shock. They had only heard of this kind of behavour from the history books, dating all the way back to the exploits of Captain Jane Tiberia Kirk.
  
  "Finallyyyy," Kayl sighed, "You'd better do a good job."
  
  Seifer shook his head, "I hope I don't regret this. In distraction-- and I need a distraction right now; like, anything, DUDE, ANYTHING-- I believe that this anomaly is controlling the laws of probability through neutrinos."
  
  "Captain, I have an idea. We may be able to modify the deflector dish to extend a neutrino field over the energy expulsion," Kayl postulated--
  
  --Catching on quick, Seifer spoke with Kayl, in unison: "--If we control the neutrinos, we control the anomaly."
  
  "Yes, sir," Kayl finished in shock.
  
  The Captain smiled, "Miss Kayl, you're a clever woman... in any time period."
  
  Kayl just shrugged, assuming that was a reference to something and got to work with her doppelganger.
  
  ---
  
  At 2100 hours, the Phoenix-X's Type-11 shuttlecraft Haruko was docked aboard the Jade Fox. Seifer was already in Cida's quarters, at her dinner table, going on, and on.
  
  ".......And so, as mentally disturbed people, they horrifyingly replaced my old Trill symbiont with an evil symbiont-- the Seifer symbiont. Now, flash-forward to six years later, when a Srivani scientist gets her hands on it and---"
  
  The story change was enough of a break to interrupt, "--Enough! I don't want to hear any more of your stupid exploits. They're significantly awful and therefore should be completely dismissed!"
  
  "But I haven't even gotten to the time traveling? Surely I was the first?"
  
  Cida slammed her fists into the table, "Just get off my ship! Get off!"
  
  "--Phoenix-X to Captain Seifer," Kayl's voice came in through the comms. "We've contained the anomaly with the neutrino field. Are you ready to beam back to our universe?"
  
  Seifer replied, "Not yet," and he turned to Cida, "So, can I call you?"
  
  "AUGGGH!" She got up and threw her tube grubs at him as he dematerialized.
  
  ---
  
  In a moment, Seifer was transported back aboard the Phoenix-X of his prime universe-- evidenced by the recognizable transporter operator at the controls.
  
  "Welcome back, Captain," the male Ensign said. "You were gone for a while, but I'm not one to ask questions; my wife likes me home by 1700."
  
  Kayl stood next to Seifer on the padd and looked at him inquisitively, "We were able to reverse the probability effect. In a few minutes, our counterparts will use the field to dissipate it, regain their warp drive and get the hell out of there," she paused, "So, how'd it go on your end?"
  
  "She completely rejected me, despite the fact I was being myself?" Seifer said in disbelief.
  
  Kayl rolled her eyes, "You mean you didn't even make it to first base?" She sighed, "Well, at least you took the first step toward a more open Captaining style. Even though it wasn't Captain Kirk status, you got the general idea."
  
  He paused, for a moment, to consider it.
  
  "Hey, what happened to Lox and Kugo?" she asked.
  
  Suddenly, the two in question materialized on the platform next to them. Their expressions: exhausted, and their clothes: tattered and burned.
  
  "We made it?" Lox said in surprise. "We made it! Ha!"
  
  Kayl turned, "Where'd you go?"
  
  "The universe where the Borg took over the Federation. We murdered soooo many of our counterparts, and even a couple of innocent by-standers just so we could get back here," Kugo explained.
  
  Seifer turned to her, deadpanned, "That.... shouldn't have happened," and then he turned to everyone, strictly, "None of this should have happened! The Ferengi of that universe obviously didn't pass the gender-equality laws the Ferengi have in ours, and do you know why that is?"
  
  His crew was hesitant to respond.
  
  "Because of this," he gestured to everything behind him, representing the entire cosmos, "This is the prime universe! We've invested so much into it, developed it, and grew it like a complex real life thought-experiment-baby-- Anything else is just a rehashed, hackneyed, rebooted escapade."
  
  Lox raised his hand, "Does that include the Mirror Universe? They're like our universe's hard-to-get love interest."
  
  "No; of course not. In fact, I encourage more visits to the Mirror Universe," he turned to the transporter operator, "Belm, send us there immediately to help me prove my point."
  
  Belm nervously hesitated, "But sir, don't you need to do things here??"
  
  "Don't argue with me! Transport now!"
  
  The operator began working quickly to implement the trans-dimensional device he just happened to have that day, "Yes, sir, right away," and in a visual, particle-frenzy, the four were off to the Mirror Universe.

  

  USS Phoenix-X Literary Index | Comics | Most recent story: "The Opposite of That"

  0
• grylak Member Posts: 1,594 Arc User

  June 2014 edited June 2014

  Captain's log. The Viper has been lost in what we have identified as the Triangulum Galaxy, or M-33, for five days now. Our records show the Enterprise D once arrived in this galaxy early in it's career. Unfortunately, we don't have The Traveller to help us get back. We were able to find an asteroid with an atmosphere that allowed us to make repairs and we are heading out into this new frontier to find a way home. So far, we have yet to encounter any natives. Given the size of the battle we arrived in, I hope never to meet either of those.
  
  
  Sensor scans show no sign of life supporting planets within sensor range. As we have no indication of which way would be the best, we have set a course towards the outer edge of the galaxy. Hopefully, we will find someone that can help before we must face the possibility of crossing the void between galaxies.
  
  
  
  
  Talaina stood over Xui Li's console, watching the reports from Engineering. Commander Dotson's teams were working like crazy, slowly restoring one system after another. Talaina had already ordered everyone onto emergency rations and minimal power consumption. They only had a limited supply of deuterium and no easy way to replace it. It was times like this she wished they had a bigger ship. She could almost hear her mother.
  
  "Now now Talaina. A true commander can make her ship do what she needs it to do. Motivate your crew, scrape what needs scraping, and you can survive."
  
  
  Talaina blinked. That.... that sounded almost real. She turned to see her mother standing on the Bridge. "Mother? What are you doing here?"
  
  "How should I know! I'm not a scientist."
  
  T'Fon picked up a tricorder and started scanning. "Fascinating. She appears to be real."
  "Of course I'm real. Why wouldn't I be?" Talaina stepped closer, cautious. "Because you're suppossed to be two galaxies over?"
  "So are you."
  "True, but I'm pretty sure you weren't on my ship when we got stranded here."
  "Well, I'm somehow here now."
  
  "And not helping matters Mother." Just like that, her Mother vanished. Talaina looked around. "Anyone care to tell me what that was?" A cooing from Xui Li's area took Talaina's attention before someone could answer. A tribble was sitting on the console of the startled woman. "Great. That's all we need. Xui Li, I thought I banned you from bringing your tribble collection on board."
  
  "Yes Sir. You, ah, did Sir. And I did not. But, ah, this tribble just appeared." T'Fon stepped forward to grab everyone's attention. "Captain, I believe I have an answer. In the short time the Enterprise was here, they discovered thoughts became reality. I believe we are in the same area."
  "That would certainly explain things. And if that is true....."
  
  
  Talaina turned to the viewscreen, concentrating on their ship flying home. Instead, a sovereign class ship with modified warp nacelles warped in and hailed. Talaina frowned. "Not the response I was hoping for. Put them on screen." Her antenna flicked up slightly as the male Andorian that appeared identified himself.
  
  "This is Captain Kazzur of the Federation starship Sentinel. How can we be of help?"
  "Captain Kazzur.... of the Sentinel....."
  "That is correct. To whom am I speaking?"
  "Captain Kazzur, of the U.S.S. Viper."
  "Coincidence?"
  "I don't believe in them."
  "Then something else?"
  "Yes. Captain, I request permission to beam over."
  "Granted. We'll be waiting."
  
  As the viewscreen shut down, Talaina turned to leave. Ttorkkinn stepped close, falling in line to talk and walk. "Captain, is this a good idea? We have no guarantee that thing's even a real ship."
  "Ttorkkinn, this is a strange place. We need to take risks if we are to ever get home. And I was thinking of getting this ship home when they appeared. Maybe they have the means to do so."
  "And if we beam you into space?"
  "I'll have the transporter maintain a lock on me at all times. I can survive a few minutes without an EV suit. Just make sure to beam me back quickly."
  
  
  
  ********************************************************************
  
  
  Talaina materialised on the transporter pad. Before her stood the male Captain Kazzur, flanked by a Trill male, Chinese male and a betazed female. Captain Kazzur stepped forward. "Greetings Captain...." He paused and smiled. "Captain Kazzur. Allow me to introduce my senior staff. My First Officer, Commander Bearlo, my Chief of Operations, Lt Commander Zhong and my chief medical officer, Doctor Juffra."
  
  Talaina looked at each one. "Interesting. It seems your crew are the same as mine. Except for two things. Commander Bearlo is still on board?"
  "Yes. Why wouldn't he be?"
  "On my ship, Commander Bearlo has taken an extended leave of absence."
  "Ah. Nothing serious I hope?"
  "Just some personal time."
  
  Captain Kazzur nodded in understanding. "You said two things."
  "Yes. It seems everyone on this ship has swapped genders."
  Bearlo did a double take at hearing that. "Really? Interesting. Captains, I suggest we compare our ship logs, see if we can determine if we are in their universe, or they are in ours."
  Kazzur nodded. "Set up a comm link and talk with their Bearlo. Or... your equivalant position."
  Talaina interjected. "On my ship, that would be Commander T'Fon."
  "Very well. Liase with her."
  "Him."
  Kazzur looked to Talaina. "Excuse me?"
  "T'Fon is a male."
  "But.... it's a woman's name."
  "I know. I didn't ask."
  "Ah. Bearlo, liase with him."
  Bearlo nodded. "Yes Sir." He left to do just that with Zhong. Juffra started scanning Talaina with his tricorder. Talaina would have ordered the same thing in their position. After a few moments, Juffra flipped the instrument shut. "All scans check out Sir. This is you. Except for the obvious change in chromosome, it's you, even down to the DNA strands."
  
  "Thank you Doctor. Dismissed. Captain Kazzur, let's walk. I'm sure you have the same questions I do."
  
  
  **********************************************************************
  
  
  Talaina and Kazzur walked through the decks. It was eerie for Talaina, being on the Sentinel. It was the spitting image of her previous posting. Apparantly, this ship never got involved in the Gorn ambush, so was never destroyed. And Kazzur had been Captain since Stunshock retired to be with a Vulcan freighter captain a year ago. Which, in an odd twist, was the same time Talaina's Stunshock had been captured by the Gorn. The more Kazzur talked, the more Talaina saw herself in him. Their personalities were the same. They had a very similar upbringing. Their hopes and dreams were the same. It was surreal to say the least. Still, unusual situations were nothing new. Finally, talk came round to the situation. Bearlo and T'Fon had confirmed they were in Talaina's universe, which begged the question how Kazzur's ship got here. They hadn't passed through any portals or black holes. They had simply dropped out of warp here. Kazzur was a bit annoyed by the news, but took it in stride.
  
  "We'll help the Viper with what we can, then fly together to find a way back home. For both our ships." Talaina nodded in agreement. "Just what I was going to suggest. The only thing Viper needs is deuterium. Our reserves were depleted in combat last week."
  "Say no more. I'll have our surplus transferred over."
  "Thank you Captain."
  "You should probably return to your ship and begin preperation for a transfer of supplies."
  "Makes sense. We'll talk again Captain."
  "Until then Captain."
  
  ******************************************************************************
  
  Back on the Viper, Talaina sat down in the Captain's Chair. T'Fon and Xui Li were overseeing the transfer of supplies when Ttorkkinn came over to the Andorian. "What was it like over there?"
  "Strange, yet familiar. They had all the characteristics we know each other to have, yet hearing it from a different perspective was odd. Yet, it also felt familiar. Strange thing though, they had no T'Fon. Not even a male version of him. No records of him in any of their database."
  "Huh. Guess in their universe, he, or she, lived a very different life. Strange that so many things were the same, and some things were so different."
  "I'm no quantum theorist. But they didn't loose the Sentinel, so there are clearly some differences." The comm went off, Xui Li informing them the supplies were all on board. No sooner did Talaina acknowledge the report, the Sentinel vanished on the screen. Talaina leapt to her feet. "REPORT!"
  
  Ttorkkinn was already at the sensor station, running scans. "Nothing out there. No power signatures, nothing to suggest cloaking, no warp trails. It's just... gone." Talaina frowned. This was most concerting. "You mean it was another illusion from this.... mind space?"
  "T'Fon could probably give a more definite answer when he gets up here, but it looks that way." Talaina checked the internal sensors. The deuterium and supplies were still on board. "This.... makes no sense. If the ship was illusionary, why are the supplies still here?"
  "I have a better question." Talaina looked up to Ttorkkinn, waiting for him to continue. "If that was created from someone's mind, why were they all gender swapped? Someone on this ship must have created that."
  
  Talaina stood up straight. "That is a worrying thought. Get those supplies stored properly. Jenna, set course for the Milky Way. Warp 5."

  *******************************************
  
  A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'

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• cmdrscarlet Member Posts: 5,137 Arc User

  June 2014 edited June 2014

  “Without any of our sensors, then we’ll have to find another way to figure out where we are.” Kathryn Beringer turned away from Commander Omazei and a science console to look out the main viewscreen. The starless black seemed to seep through the window.
  
  The Trill Science officer nodded. “I have an idea.”
  
  +++
  
  The officers watched as Omazei stood at the monitor. A tactical view of the Solaris rotated to show the dorsal view of the ship. “We would need four [url=url=http://sto.gamepedia.com/Type-8_Shuttlecraft]shuttlecraft[/url] for this operation.” The image added four blips at the front of the ship. “They will be in the forward quadrant and will fly a rectangular-shaped pattern, essentially creating a box between them that Solaris could fly through.” The scene of the four shuttles rotates, with a dotted line connecting them. An outline of an Excelsior-class ship appears within the box. Measurements appeared showing only a few meters between the lines and the outer edges of the ship.
  
  “They will need to be four-point-seven kilometers in front, guiding the ship through the darkness.”
  
  Commander Thel Ythysi spoke up quickly. “Will the shuttles be towing Solaris?”
  
  Omazei folded her arms behind her as she spoke. “No. The sensor network was severely damaged when the power surge destroyed the deflector array. So, the shuttles will be using their sensor package to act as the eyes of the ship.”
  
  First Officer Anthi Ythysi spoke next. “Why not use probes?”
  
  “We have a finite amount of them. The Class I probe launched at arrival revealed nothing was out there. Granted, its sensor range is relatively limited, yet it is still two hundred thousand kilometers. It’s a risk to use them for further reconnaissance or as buoy markers. Manned shuttle craft would serve best until we can figure out more about the space we are in.”
  
  Kathryn turned to Chief Engineer Thel. “How close are we to having the sensors back online?”
  
  The Andorian responded, “one week at the earliest.”
  
  +++
  
  Kathryn looked to Omazei, who nodded an answer. Kathryn then stabbed a button on the armrest of her Captains chair. “Beringer to Shuttle Team, activate Tachyon Grid, ahead one-quarter impulse. Solaris will stay behind in the pocket. Maintain telemetry and keep comm channels open. Good luck.”
  
  The four shuttle pilots acknowledged and slowly accelerated. Above Omazei's station, Kathryn watched four rows of data scroll information as the shuttles "pinged' outward to get a sense of their surroundings.
  
  "Helm, maintain prescribed distance and make it better than textbook."
  
  "Aye, Captain." Ian's hands confidently crawled across the console. If it weren't for the viewscreen showing the shuttles move, no one could tell Solaris was in motion.
  
  +++
  
  Seven hours later ...
  
  Ian yawned.
  
  Anthi's own yawn overpowered her attempt to suppress it. A beeping sound from the tactical console received her attention and she welcomed it over the monotonous drone of the ships engines. She tapped the console to silence the warning, and then looked to the shuttle telemetry above Omazei's station.
  
  "Captain, the Caracal reports their sensors have detected an object fifty-thousand kilometers to port. They are scanning for more detail."
  
  Kathryn sat up straighter in her chair waiting for information to break the dullness of the past seven hours. "Show the data on the main screen." The blank image was replaced with sonogram-like static. From the flat image, a spire suddenly appeared and receded. Its shape was similar enough for Kathryn to gasp in surprise.
  
  "Helm and shuttles, full stop." Everyone held onto railing or console as Solaris quickly decelerated.
  
  Omazei reviewed the image in a loop. Kathryn put a hand to her mouth and muttered, "we are in a Dyson Sphere."
  
  +++
  
  In the conference room ...
  
  Omazei looked relieved as she spoke. "Based on expanded reconnaissance, we have been traveling almost perpendicular to the surface on the Sphere."
  
  "It seems your idea to use shuttles was a good one." Kathryn smiled.
  
  "Thank you, Captain. Once the local area is mapped, we can use the data to move the ship safely closer to the surface until we can find the shell's main doorway. Using the Solanae and Jenolan Sphere's as a topographical template we can make an educated guess where the doorway would be."
  
  "Wait," Ian McKinnon raised a hand to speak. "We've only seen one doorway in those Spheres. Depending on our relative location, we could be days away from the door traveling at full impulse speed."
  
  Omazei nodded. "That is true."
  
  Kathryn looked to the officers in the room. "Then I think we have two options: wait or continue flying forward until the sensors come back online.”
  
  Ian said, "I suggest we wait. What if the door is on the opposite side?"
  
  Thel was quick to respond, “if this Sphere is similar to Solanae, then we would reach it in days at Full Impulse, minutes at Warp one.” Ian nodded to acquiesce to the facts.
  
  “One question I have is why this Sphere does not have a star within it.” Lieutenant Commander Karl Melango had been silent throughout the meeting.
  
  After several seconds, Anthi suggested, “we could send an Away Team to find information about the Sphere or its inhabitants.”
  
  “That would solve a few riddles.” Kathryn nodded. “Maybe it’s a good thing our presence has not alerted the inhabitants of this Sphere.”
  
  Anthi replied, “if there are any.”
  
  +++
  
  Later, in a nearby spire …
  
  Romas Verthir was tapping purple-colored keys on the alien console while also reviewing data from his tricorder, the light from his EV suit able to illuminate the surface area and nothing else. Meanwhile, other members of the away team scanned the walls with the searchlights attached to wrists and helmet. They also waved tricorders when they felt the need. One member of the team stood guard over the rest, clutching a Phaser Battle Rifle to his chest and swiveling at the waist to keep an eye out for threats.
  
  After a few more taps on the console, Romas was satisfied with his research. He tapped a button on his EV suit and the whole team stopped to pay attention. “Captain, I have confirmed this Sphere is just like the Solanae Sphere.”
  
  “Romas, to be sure, this Sphere is almost an exact replica?”
  
  “No, sir. This is an exact replica.”
  
  “Thank you Lieutenant Commander. Await further instructions.”
  
  On board Solaris …
  
  Kathryn turned to Omazei raising an eyebrow. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
  
  Omazei smiled brightly. “Yes, sir. On my way.” She stood and entered the turbo lift.
  
  +++
  
  Later, in shuttle Caracal …
  
  Omazei flew the shuttle around the Solaris. She pressed a button on a side console and said, “Omazei to Bridge, activating Tetryon Particle collector.” Within seconds, data scrolled on a screen showing the area was filled with Tetryon Particles. Omazei beamed in her triumph.
  
  +++
  
  Later, in the Captain’s Ready Room …
  
  “Basically, Captain, the Sphere is in subspace. I cannot postulate how it arrived, but clearly the accident with the Bajoran wormhole transported us here. We are out of phase with our reality, so, if we can create a subspace force field around the ship, then we would be one step closer to getting out.”
  
  Kathryn looked away to consider the ramifications. “We would then need to create a spatial rupture large enough for the ship to fly through.” Looking back to Omazei she said, “aren't you curious about how the Sphere exists in Subspace?”
  
  “Not this time, Captain. Being stranded in subspace is not appealing to me."

  Kathryn S. Beringer - Endless Excelsior - Veritatum Liquido Cernerne - a proud off-meta build
  
  

  0
• marcusdkane Member Posts: 7,439 Arc User

  June 2014 edited June 2014

  "Captain, the stormfront's moving in faster than we predicted," Commander Bellic Chanos growled, indicating the weather front on the PoolTable terminal which had been set up in the prefab tent. "The ionisation is going to have a massive impact on our equipment, and we won't be able to continue our survey."
  
  Captain Ael t'Kazanak looked at the real-time display, smelled the change in the air, and nodded.
  
  "Abandon the camp, Commander, get everyone back to the ship," she said, as they walked out of the tent into the verdant pasture.
  
  The sky was indeed turning nasty, bruised, swollen clouds threatening to break into downpour at any moment, and she could feel the drop in pressure and temperature, the faint static buildup which she knew would accompany a fierce storm. The forces of nature, unpredictable, cold and hot, tempestuous, energising. Qualities she saw in herself, and why she had taken it as her personal, private name: Hvei'khenn. Storm.
  
  She could hear the first rumblings of thunder, even though it was too far off to see the lightning which had caused it.
  
  "We'll come back once it's passed," she assured the geological team as they hurried to the transport enhancers.
  
  Her commbadge chittered on her breast, and she reached up to tap it.
  
  "Go ahead," she said, her eyes tracing the outlines of the clouds, as the rising wind began to tug at her hair, and she felt the first droplets of rain against her face,
  
  "Captain, the storm is interfering with the transporter lock," came the voice of transporter chief th'Shaan. "It will be necessary to being you up one at a time..."
  
  "Whatever it takes, Chief," Ael replied calmly, watching as lighting arced across from the mountain range, illuminating the sky. "Sooner, rather than later, would be appreciated."
  
  "Aye, Captain. Initiating sequential transport."
  
  Hearing a massive crash of thunder, Ael wondered what would hit first: The rain, or the transporter.
  
  When she felt the cold shiver of the transporter, she had her answer.
  

  ***

  
  "Transporter room to bridge! Intruder alert!"
  
  Ael frowned in confusion, at the Andorian's words.
  
  "Explain yourself, Mister th'Shaan", she demanded, moving to step off the transporter platform, only to feel the jangle of her nerves, as she bounced back off a containment field.
  
  Behind the transporter console, the Andorian's antennae pressed back against his scalp with anger.
  
  "Don't address me thus, Romulan, I am a chan!" he snarled.
  
  "And I am your captain!" Ael retorted. "How dare you speak to me like that! Five days confinement to quarters -- you are relieved!"
  
  "I take my orders from the Captain, not Romulans!"
  
  The doors to the transporter room slid open, admitting a tall blonde Human woman, and a slender, if muscular, Bolian female."
  
  "What's going on, Chief ch'Shaan?" the Human demanded, her phaser drawn.
  
  "Commander Mayer, this Romulan materialised on the transporter platform, and proceeded to subject me to condescending gender abuse, before attempting to give me orders! She's wearing a Starfleet uniform, and claimed to be a captain, maybe some kind of Romulan infiltrator."
  
  Ael frowned. Mayer?
  
  The blonde nodded pacifyingly at the aggravated Andorian, before stepping closer to the transporter platform.
  
  "I'm Commander Brandene Mayer, this is Commander Bellica Chanos," she said. "Who are you, and what are you doing aboard the Vanguard?"
  
  Ael's thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion, as she replied.
  
  "My name is Ael t'Kazanak, serial number Sierra Charlie seven eight nine, eight seven zero. I am a Starfleet officer, and commander of the USS Vanguard."
  
  Brandene's face wrinkled in confusion and disgust.
  
  "Is that supposed to be a joke?" she demanded. "Captain Bernardez is definitely going to want to speak to you..."
  
  Ael felt her insides turn to ice at the name. Panic beginning to well up inside her. Bernardez, not only here, but in command!
  
  "Who?" she gasped.
  
  "Captain Cecelia Bernardez," Brandene said. "Commanding officer of the USS Vanguard."
  
  ch'Shaan, Brandene, Bellica, Cecelia... Ghau'arhem, their genders are reversed!
  

  ***

  
  Having been relieved of her phaser and disruptor pistol, Ael found herself escorted to the Vanguard's conference lounge, where a dark-haired, somewhat stern-looking Human woman sat at the head of the table. Next to her, was another dark-haired woman, but with ink-black Betazoid eyes. Through the windows, Ael could see the storm-wracked orb of Hagal, the planet she had been surveying.
  
  "I'm Captain Celia Bernardez," said the Human woman, with a noticeable Hispanic accent. "Do you have an explanation for your presence on my ship, Captain?" the last, she said with a somewhat sarcastic tone.
  
  "I am Captain Ael t'Kazanak," Ael replied. She saw Celia react to her name, but continued. "My crew were performing a geological survey of the planet below, when an ionic stormfront moved toward us more quickly than we had anticipated, necessitating a beam out. There was interference from the storm, so we beamed out individually. Then, I was on the transporter platform."
  
  "She's telling the truth, Captain," replied the Betazoid.
  
  "Gracias, Keilly," Celia replied, before visibly relaxing slightly.
  
  Keilly... Feminine form of Keill... This universe's counterpart of Keill Staros, the Betazoid warrior-monk Ael realised.
  
  "It would appear," Celia continued. "That we have ourselves something of a dimensional glitch, and you need to be sent home. I'm sure Lance will be able to duplicate the necessary conditions and get you o-"
  
  "Lance?" Ael interrupted.
  
  "Si, Lance... Library access networked computer engram," Celia clarified. "The ship's AI. Your Vanguard does not have a Lance?"
  
  "I have a Claire -- Computer library access information retrieval engram," Ael replied.
  
  "Ah, I guess in your universe, my counterpart has cojones rather than colgados," Celia joked.
  
  "In a manner of speaking," Ael replied tensely. "Both yourself and Commander Mayer reacted to my name with disgust. What does that name mean to you?"
  
  Celia took a deep breath.
  
  "Brandy and I were at the Academy together," she began. "There was also a Romulan cadet attending called Ael i-Ra'tleihfi Janek tr'Kazanak. He asked me on a date once, where he forced himself upon me." Ael's eyes closed as Celia continued. "He was arrested, expelled, and sent to New Zealand for rehabilitation, where he chose to kill himself in his cell." Seeing the expression on Ael's face, Celia ventured. "I assume you had a similar experience with my counterpart..."
  
  Ael nodded.
  
  "As you said, although Cecil Bernardez has not had the courage to take his own life," she replied bitterly.
  
  "A shame to the Bernardez name," Celia muttered darkly. "But enough of such things, we must see about returning you to your own reality."
  

  ***

  
  Ael and Brandene had been working in one of the science labs for over an hour, when the doors opened to admit a Human male, his uniform bearing the mustard panals of ships operations, carrying a tray of food.
  
  "I thought you might be hungry, Captain," he said, presenting Ael with a variety of Romulan delicacies.
  
  "That's very thoughtful, Lieutenant-" her voice trailed off as she tried to put a name to the officer. The accent was familiar, but the beard was throwing her off.
  
  "Fisher, Captain," he replied. "Lieutenant Ely Fisher."
  
  Ael smiled.
  
  "Of course," she realised. "It's curious, for all the differences between our universes, there is still much which is the same. Tell me, does the mess hall still serve thirty one flavours of ice cream?"
  
  Fisher's smile momentarily froze in place.
  
  "Absolutely, Captain," he replied. "Would you care for some?"
  
  Ael shook her head.
  
  "Just making sure, Lieutenant," she replied casually, returning her gaze to the console while it ran quantum scans on her DNA to isolate her native reality. "Just making sure."

  0
• jonsills Member Posts: 10,360 Arc User

  June 2014 edited June 2014

  Captain's Log, USS Bedford NCC-92570
  Captain Grunt recording.
  
  The Bedford's been given a comparatively cushy assignment, conducting surveys of a few of the uninhabited worlds of the Delta Volanis cluster and assessing their sutability for colonization. Currently we're orbiting Etarinar III, a planet briefly noted by a Vulcan science team almost four hundred years ago, but rejected by them as being too wet and not heavy enough - in short, a normal Class-M planet. Surface surveys so far are proving promising; no major toxic gas sources, atmospheric composition nearly identical to Earth, and we have yet to encounter any predators that would be considered "dangerous" for colonization purposes. we're running one final sweep, collecting samples, before moving on to the next designated target.
  
  "Just for the record, Captain, I'm still not happy that you're down here."
  
  Grunt grinned. "Yes, Shelana, you've made that quite clear. Several times. Over the past half-hour alone. Sometimes you've just got to get off the ship, though, you know? And this planet seems pretty paradisical - not enough rain for me, of course, and way too warm for you, but most of the sophonts in the Federation will love it."
  
  Shelana kept alert eyes and antennae trained on the underbrush around them. "Captain, we haven't found anything dangerous yet. That doesn't mean that the next vale or cave won't hold something akin to a fangbeast, or an ice-spider, or a targ. And I don't fancy explaining to Roclak how I got his captain injured..."
  
  The Andorian was cut off by Grunt's combadge. "Bedford to Grunt."
  
  The Ferengi tapped his badge. "Grunt here."
  
  "Captain, there's a growing subspace distortion less that ten kilometers off the starborad bow, possibly an Undine incursion. We need to beam you back up immediately!"
  
  "Yes, you do. Grab the away team now."
  
  "Aye aye, si--" The com signal dissolved into static. The voice of Roclak, the Klingon science officer, could occasionally be made out. "...iculty maintin...ransporter lock...have to beam yo...one at a time..."
  
  "Make it so," Grunt snapped. "get my crew out of here first!"
  
  "Sir!" Shelana protested. "As your security chief, it is my duty to--" She was interrupted by an azure swirl, as the transporter signal seized her.
  
  Grunt waited, then tapped his badge. "What's the holdup, Rock?"
  
  "..pologies, Capt...signal disruptio..eaming you up now..."
  
  The familiar swirl surrounded Grunt - then started changing colors. By the time the light dissipated, it had shifted to a bright orange hue.
  
  "Wow, that was a rough one," Grunt said, stepping toward the edge of the platform. Only then did he realize what he was seeing. This was not the brightly-lit, Federation-designed transporter room he was used to - instead, the room was much smaller, with harsh angles to the walls, and dim red lighting like a Klingon ship!
  
  Across the small room, a female Pakled worked frantically at a wall panel. A female Klingon standing beside her growled, "Enough!", and roughly cuffed the Pakled aside.
  
  "Er, excuse me..." Grunt began.
  
  The Klingon spun toward him and hissed. "Who are you, intruder, and what have you done with our patron?"
  
  Grunt raised his hands. "I'm as confused as you are. Maybe a little more. My name is Captain Grunt, of the Federation starship Bedford, and I was just beaming up after doing some survey work on the planet below us--"
  
  "Enough lies!" the Klingon shouted. "You are not Merchant-Captain Grunt! You are the wrong gender, for one thing!"
  
  "Merchant-Capt... oh, wonderful." Grunt ran his hand over his head. "There's been another interuniversal mixup, hasn't there?"
  
  "Interuniversal?" This caught the Klingon's attention. She turned back to the Pakled. "Check your readings! Did you experience disruptions in the upper bands - and fail to compensate?"
  
  The Pakled rubbed her cheek resentfully. "You want to try focusing an annular confinement beam through a Class-Three ion storm? Be my guest! I told Shellan not to let the Patron beam up last, but does anyone listen to poor Vovana? No!" She started working at the panel again. "So I get stuck cleaning up everyone else's messes, as usual... Aha! A transitional spike in the kappa band, here. Should have been automatically compensated for, but nobody ever wants to spring for spare parts around here when you can make good old Vovana patch 'em together..."
  
  "Enough whining, Vov." The Klingon turned back toward Grunt. "I am Roclas, executive officer of the Free Vessel Material Continuum. We had been beaming up our patron, Merchant-Captain Grunt. She had foolishly insisted on examining this world in person, hoping to find some commercial possibility the rest of us had missed. It would appear we have you instead."
  
  "Roclas. Interesting. You'd be the distaff counterpart to my exec, Roclak, then."
  
  "So it would appear. Is he in Starfleet, as well?"
  
  "Yes, he is. It rather surprises me that you're not."
  
  Roclas shrugged. "I had applied to the Academy after leaving Klingon space, but - circumstances intervened. Grunt was recruiting for her private survey vessel, and I signed on."
  
  "Er, no offense," Grunt began, "but you were quick to jump on that word, 'interuniversal'. I take it you've had your share of wacky dimensional hijinks, too?"
  
  Roclas sighed. "The stories I could tell. We've been to two different so-called 'Mirror Universes', the ones with the Terran Empire, including one where Grunt was High Empress of the Ferengi Trade Empire. There's one I never want to see again. Then there was the one where the Borg beat the Feds back about forty, fifty years ago - didn't like that one either - and the one where the Iconians were in charge... Gods below, at this point it's kind of nice to hear about a universe where everything hasn't gone to forshak."
  
  "We've only been to one Mirror, but we saw it twice - second time was in the Delta Quadrant, where we met mirror Borg. Nice fellows."
  
  Roclas grinned. "Well, they are 'mirror'."
  
  "Got it!" Vovana crowed from the panel she'd been working at. "Captain, we can get you back to your universe, but only for about another forty-five seconds. I'll beam you back into the cloud, but route the signal back here. If my counterpart did the same work I did, they'll beam our Patron the same way, and everyone winds up home. Are you ready to go?"
  
  "Make it so, Miss Volvana." Grunt inclined his head to the Klingon. "It was an honor to meet you, Roclas. I'll give your regards to Roclak when I see him." The room dissolved around Grunt, then reformed moments later - in its more familiar Starfleet arrangement. Roclak stood next to Vovonek at the console.
  
  "Sir, are you all right?" Roclak asked worriedly.
  
  "Never better, Rock." Grunt rolled his neck. "Good to be home, though. Everyone else make it off the planet okay?"
  
  "Yours was the only beamout that gave us any trouble, Captain. Unsurprisingly." The Klingon glowered at him. "You seem to make it a habit to get into untenable situations, sir."
  
  Grunt grinned broadly. "Ah, but I always have you guys to pull my profits out of the hole," he said reassuringly.
  
  Roclak looked unconvinced.

  

  0
• worffan101 Member Posts: 9,518 Arc User

  June 2014 edited June 2014

  This is an EXTREMELY loose adaptation of challenge number 1. Very silly, mostly unserious, go ahead and play "spot-the-blatant-cameos". Enjoy!

  ---

  First Omek’ti’kallan found the auxiliary deflector control room of the IRW Kholhr (translation: “Vengeance”) to be quite uncomfortably small under the best of circumstances, in part due to its low ceiling. With a Romulan, a Nausicaan, and a Lethean in the little space as well, it was almost painfully cramped.
  
  Space was precious on the T’varo-class, though, to the point that many crew members (Admiral D’trel included) slept on metal sleeping pallets Klingon-style.
  
  The little warbird was currently entering the Bajoran wormhole with a brand-new sensor array, designed by some scientists with the Romulan Republic High Command to get better data on the interior of the wormhole as part of a cooperative survey deal with the Federation. Vice Admiral D’trel Tomalak had been volunteered to try out the new array by her therapist, the Lethean Daysnur, who felt that a nice relaxing scientific survey would be good for the chronically-depressed woman’s mental health.
  
  So Omek and D’trel and Daysnur and Daysnur’s boyfriend Jak (the Vengeance’s chief engineer) were packed in this little room because Daysnur thought that it would be a wonderful chance for the four of them to break out some Romulan ale while watching the numbers come in. Although Omek’ti’kallan, as a Jem’Hadar, would not be having any of the ale, he appreciated the sentiment.
  
  “Ready to activate the tetryon pulse sensors, sir!” came Third Zel’s voice over the intercom.
  
  “On three,” said D’trel, unscrewing the cap of a bottle of ale. “One. Two. Three!”
  
  There was a flash of light, and…
  
  “Cut! God damn it, what is wrong with those damn lights? Alright, everyone, take an hour while we get Maintenance up here…”
  
  First Omek’ti’kallan blinked, disoriented. The wall with the door in it was gone; there was a larger room in its place, with strange technology being wheeled around by Humans in unusual civilian garments. A brown-haired, youngish Human—apparently the one who had spoken—got up from a chair marked “Director” and stormed out, shaking his head and muttering about incompetent “set designers”.
  
  “What the mind-wasting spam?” said Daysnur quietly, voicing the officers’ shared thoughts.
  
  First Omek'ti'kallan shook his head almost imperceptibly. Jak grabbed D'trel surreptitiously but firmly as her muscles clenched.
  
  "Second, mind-scan. What in the name of the hated Criminal One is happening?"
  
  Daysnur went quiet for a moment. The aliens rose slowly and carefully as Humans bustled around.
  
  "No Undine," whispered the Lethean. "All Human. Showbiz people, making a holoprogram if I'm any judge."
  
  A Human woman with some sort of headset approached.
  
  "Sirs, Ma'am, um, the Director says that we're done shooting for the day since Maintenance doesn't know what's wrong with the lights and it's getting late anywhuh!!!!" She cut off as D'trel lunged out of Jak's grip and grabbed her by the throat and lifted her into the air.
  
  "Where are we," the Romulan hissed. A couple of technicians noticed the struggling woman and the alien holding her in the air and shouted with surprise. "Tell me where I am and what the ariennye is going on or I crush your throat, Human ataen!"
  
  "Admiral! Release her!" Omek tried to pull at the woman's arm, and found himself staring cross-eyed down the barrel of a disruptor.
  
  "Stand down, First. I will have answers, Human!"
  
  The Humans were all watching now. Omek ducked backwards and flashed a hand signal to Daysnur. The Lethean struck.
  
  "Now, Human! Tell muuhhhh..." D'trel collapsed.
  
  "Fourth, cover me! Second, for how long is she unconscious?"
  
  "Maybe five minutes, Omek. She's really screwed up. If this is an Iconian plot..."
  
  "Glorious Odo'ital send that it is not!" Omek turned to the Human woman, now gasping for breath on the floor. "Civilian. What is this place, and why were we brought here?"
  
  She looked at him strangely, as if he were insane. "It's the new Star Trek show, Mr. Ejiofor. We're filming the next-to-last episode of the season. You're here because Director Peters offered you a bunch of money to play the first officer, Omek'ti'kallan."
  
  "Who is this "Mr. Ejiofor" of whom you speak? And how do you know my name and rank?"
  
  "Sir? Are you all right--oh, sorry sir! I didn't realize that you liked method acting! If you want to stay in character, I'm very sorry, Mr. Ejiofor--I mean, First Omek'ti'kallan!"
  
  "What the hell is going on?" asked Daysnur. "Omek may be a military man born and bred, but I was a holo-wrestler when I was a kid, I know show business. Who do you think we are, in real life?"
  
  "Sir? Don't you know?"
  
  "Kid, I rather think I don't. The name's Daysnur. Associate chief engineer, Romulan Republic Warbird Kholhr. Who's the actor who plays me?"
  
  "...Alan Tudyk, sir. You--uh, I mean, he was on Firefly..."
  
  "Right, never mind, that's useless. Sorry, I shouldn't have asked. What year is it?"

  ---

  The Admiral was very upset.
  
  The technicians had medical staff on-site, so at least the poor Human woman was all right, but D'trel was fuming fit to kill. The news was already out--even in this primitive 21st century on pre-warp-drive Earth, the newsnets were porous as the Criminal One's sieves. A gaggle of reporters had tried to ambush the aliens as they were ushered out of the facility, but then D'trel had pulled a gun and started yelling about Adani, and First Omek'ti'kallan had been forced to restrain her with Jak's help.
  
  The three officers had agreed that they would have Second Daysnur mind-wipe her when and if they got back home.
  
  They had been chauffeured to a primitive hospital in a plush but old-fashioned land car. First Omek'ti'kallan despised the soft seats, but they were good for the Admiral. One less thing to bother her. Omek felt Daysnur's telepathy in the air for the entire drive as the Lethean kept a wary mental eye on his Commander.
  
  At the hospital, they were met by a grey-haired Human man in a crisp, blue military uniform, backed by a blonde female Human, a massive dark-skinned male, and a pair of uniformed security personnel in what Omek recognized as old Terran Air Force uniforms.
  
  "Greetings, aliens, or whatever the hell I'm supposed to say. I'm General O'Neill, United States Air Force. I was told that you just appeared on a TV show set an hour ago?"
  
  "Yes, General," said D'trel. "I am Vice Admiral D'trel Tomalak, Romulan Republic star fleet. These are Subcommander Omek'ti'kallan, Subcommander Daysnur, and Subcommander Jak."
  
  "A pleasure, Admiral. This is Colonel Carter, Murray, and two airmen who Carter knows but I can't be bothered to remember because it involves paperwork."
  
  "Good. Now, to business. What is going on here? One moment we're setting up some deflector modifications near the Bajoran wormhole, and the next we're on Terra! I want answers, now."
  
  "I wish I could help you," said the Human,grimacing. "Unfortunately, we're still not entirely sure why you're here, either. And let me tell you, I'm not happy about this, either. The local Space Nasties are causing us some trouble, especially this charming fellow by the name of Ba'al, so the LAST thing I needed was to have to take an emergency flight across two states and a mountain range because your arrival coincided with an energy surge that...well, caused us a good deal of consternation. So you'll forgive me for being a little upset."
  
  "You're forgiven," said Jak with what passed for a smirk on his mandibled face.
  
  "Quiet, Subcommander. You have interstellar capabilities, General? I was not aware that your planet was warp-capable at this time!"
  
  "Uh...actually, Carter can explain this one better than I can--that was not an invitation, Colonel!--but I know enough to interpret her sciencey talk to mean that you guys are here from an alternate universe because of--what did you call them? Exotic particle discharges?"
  
  "A negative space wedgie, Sir."
  
  The man did a double-take.
  
  "Negative space what?"
  
  "Wedgie, sir."
  
  The Human mouthed the words negative space wedgie, then shook his head.
  
  "So, yeah. Because of something that seems to have stumped even Colonel Carter."
  
  "Do you have any way to get us back, Human?"
  
  "Back? Uh...Colonel? Ideas?"
  
  "Well, Sir, we could dial the Gate through a solar flare again and see if that works..."
  
  The man looked back at the aliens, questioningly this time. Daysnur facilitated a quick telepathic conversation. The Admiral looked up at the Human and nodded.
  
  "We shall try this. How long will it take to perform these modifications to your device?"

  ---

  "aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--WHUMP!"
  
  That was the approximate sound and experience as they tumbled through the bubbling pool of the "Gate", and into open air. First Omek'ti'kallan had a brief feeling of falling, a blurred perception of a city with Bajoran architecture, and then the ground was right there in his face.
  
  "Ohhhhh....Praise Odo'Ital! Admiral! Second! Fourth!"
  
  "Here," moaned D'trel as she sat up from a few meters away. "Oh, my back! I'm getting too old for this!"
  
  Omek laughed at that one; D'trel cracked a slight smile and managed a weak chuckle. Good.
  
  Daysnur's legs were sticking out of a thorny bush. He was yelling instructions and shouting pain as Jak tried to extract him.
  
  "Subcommander," said the Romulan woman. Omek turned; she had one eyebrow raised. "That was a...new one."
  
  "Indeed," said First Omek'ti'kallan. He would be sure to tell God of his friend Murray and how they had talked of Glorious Odo'Ital, and how Murray's people were stuck with false gods, lowly solids who blasphemed against the might of Odo'Ital by calling themselves gods. Omek wondered idly how God would react. Hopefully better than He had reacted to the Mighty Hymn of Glorious Odo'Ital's Mighty Victories And Unvanquisheable Glory.
  
  It had been an...interesting day. This was definitely one for the diary.

  0
• proteusrex Member Posts: 62 Arc User

  June 2014 edited June 2014

  Captain's Log Stardate 92024.47 – Commander Takerra Shran, acting Captain USS Explorer NCC-92001-E
  
  While Captain Merrik is off ship, I am left supervising a group of children, more specifically, a group of Cardassian, Bajoran and Federation scientists. They are refitting our deflector with new scanning equipment. Their goal, to examine the Bajoran Wormhole in ways never before thought possible. I suppose it's a noble goal, though personally I feel their efforts would be better suited trying to scan for Iconian ships and Undine infiltration. This joint effort, while looking good on paper is littered with conflicting ideals and bad blood. I've ordered the new Chief Science Officer, Commander T'Char to manage them, but they're still insisting that I mediate their stupid disputes. Despite all this, they approaching completion of the project and are now insisting we perform the experiment ahead of schedule.
  
  ****
  
  Commander Takerra Shran rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and pointer finger. It was a human gesture she had adopted when she needed a quick, quiet second to think. Her antenna betrayed her mood, as they moved about angrily in response to the entire situation. Fortunately, none of them were familiar enough with Andorian body-language to catch the hint.
  
  "I'm gunna kill him." she cursed her captain under her breath. "When he get's back, I'm going to kill him."
  
  Merrik was away. When he discovered that their exile to the mirror universe was a result of sabotage, he quietly started investigating. He discovered that the wreck of their old ship was still intact, awaiting salvage and reclamation at Surplus Depot Z15 in orbit of Qualor II. He pulled some strings and took a small team back to the ship to look for clues.
  
  While he was away, he left her in command of the ship during the deflector refit. Deep down, she knew that Merrik knew how it was going to go, and took the opportunity to hoist that responsibility, and headache, onto her. Later he would argue that it was a character building exercise or some other bull**** like that. Though she'd never admit it, he was right, she could command her ship and her crew in the worst of situations. It was these 'out of battle' scenarios with civilians and visitors that she did not enjoy.
  
  "Am I clear Commander?" Captain James Kurland asked through the viewscreen.
  
  "Yes sir." Takerra responded, gritting her teeth and putting as much politeness into her voice as possible. "But my objections stand."
  
  "Noted," DS9's Commander nodded. His face turned to the cabal of researchers. "Good luck Doctors, May the Prophets guide you."
  
  The viewscreen flickered off, leaving Takerra standing beside Commander T'Char and a group of scientists. Several of them smiled smugly at her, victorious.
  
  The science team had gone over her head to advance their project, despite her misgivings and desire to 'triple check' everything. She couldn't explain why, but she had a feeling. What made matters worse was that T'Char had sided with the researchers, citing that everything was in order and ready to go. She had hoped the new Chief Science Officer would give her the benefit of the doubt, to build some trust between officers.
  
  So much for that.
  
  "I would have appreciated your support on this T'Char." she said calmly to the Vulcan.
  
  "You have my support Commander." T'Char paused, "when your concerns are valid."
  
  "When is the safety of this ship not valid?" Takerra replied, a snarl escaping her lips.
  
  "It always is." The Vulcan exhaled softly. Takerra wondered if she just sighed. "However, it does not make sense to postpone this experiment because of a ‘hunch'."
  
  "All I wanted was to run some additional tests on the subsystems. It would not have compromised your deadlines."
  
  "With all due respect Commander, your expertise is not Sensor technology, Deflector controls or even Engineering subsystems. I do not instruct you on tactical drills."
  
  "With all due respect?" Takerra was taken aback. "Really?"
  
  "Indeed. I am simply pointing out our roles."
  
  Takerra brought her hand up to cover her eyes, her anger dissipated into a tired frustration. It had been a long week.
  
  "Get out of here T'Char." She muttered, fighting the urge to add, "before I punch you in the face."
  
  Without speaking, the Vulcan turned and filed into the turbolift with the scientists.
  
  "Helm. Set course for the wormhole."
  
  
  ---
  
  
  "Report!" Takerra shouted as she pulled herself off the floor, though "I told you so." was the first thing that crossed her mind.
  
  "EPS conduit explosion in Deflector control." Lt. Irina 'Two' Sarani announced, her synthetic voice masking any emotions or concerns. She was the only officer to remain unmoved during the event. Her Borg implants keeping her on her feet despite the failure of the ships stabilizers. "Secondary explosions reported shipwide, most likely a chain reaction. Hull breach in Deflector control. Emergency forcefields are active. Damage control teams are being dispatched."
  
  Helping the helm officer back into his seat, she looked around. The chaos of the last few moments was starting to pass, and the crew was recovering.
  
  "Dispatch Medical teams," Takerra ordered, "Bridge to Deflector Control."
  
  Her command hung in the air. "Bridge to Deflector control, please reply."
  
  "Ma'am" The Helm office said, raising his voice. He turned around to face her. "Something is wrong here."
  
  "You think ensign?" she asked sarcastically, "What could possibly be wrong here?"
  
  Seemingly immune to her sarcasm, the young officer pointed to the viewscreen.
  
  The viewscreen was relatively unimpressive, a solid bright grey wall. Whatever it was, warm white light seemed to pulse behind it in almost hypnotic fashion.
  
  "Where are we?" Takerra said.
  
  "Unknown ma'am." the ensign reported. "Long range sensors are offline, navigational equipment is not responding."
  
  "Then what can you tell me?" she snipped.
  
  "Exterior atmosphere appears to be a fog of mist ma'am. Largely liquid water droplets suspended in an Oxygen/Nitrogen mix, though sensors are identifying about three dozen additional elements and a handful of energy signatures I can't identify. Temperature is about 50 degrees Celcius."
  
  There was a sudden shaking that almost toppled her over again.
  
  "What was that?"
  
  "Pressure on the hull is increasing ma'am." The ensign stumbled over his words. "Pressure is uniform across the hull, increasing steadily."
  
  "Shields up," Takerra ordered. "Calibrate for immersive environments."
  
  "Shields up, calibrated for immersive environments." Two confirmed. "However, if this rate of pressure increase continues, it will overcome the shields in approximately 12 hours; SIF fields will collapse shortly after that."
  
  "Not good." Takerra stepped up to the Engineering console and joined the former Borg officer. She glanced down at the console to review the damage reports.
  
  "Deflector control to Bridge," Her combadge buzzed, it was T'Char. "Report to Deflector control immediately."
  
  "What now?"
  
  
  ---
  
  
  Takerra arrived at Deflector control about the same time as a security detail.
  
  In the hallway outside the door, the medical team was treating members of the research team. Standing beside the door was Commander T'Char. She was holding her tricorder, scanning through the door. The Vulcan turned to address Takerra as she stepped over a Cardassian scientist being treated by a Bajoran Nurse. T'Char's normally meticulous black hair was unkempt and matted with green blood.
  
  "I detected the EPS conduit approximately 11 seconds before overload. I activated the forcefield and began evacuating the team. Unfortunately, we were not fast enough and the forcefield was not adequate enough to sustain the blast. There is significant damage, and several members unaccounted for, two of the crew, three Cardassians, two Barjorans and three Federation civilians."
  
  "Damn." she cursed. “And on the other side of that door?”
  
  "An unidentified lifeform has boarded the ship through the hull breach." T'Char continued.
  
  Takerra nodded to the security team and they fell in behind her, guarding the door as the two women entered the room. There was a gaping hole in the lab that was once deflector control. About halfway into the room, the floor abruptly stopped, replaced with the charred black edge.
  
  The emergency forcefield shimmered, as the grey mist pressed against it.
  
  Pooling on the floor, clinging to the edge of the forcefield, was the same thick grey mist that surrounded the ship. It moved in a serpentine way, swirling back and forth across the floor. Periodically it would push into the emergency force field.
  
  "What is it?" Takerra asked, approaching the mist.
  
  "Water vapour. The same makeup as the mist outside of the ship." T'Char announced, reading her tricorder. "It is behaving as if it’s alive, but I can't identify any normal signs of life."
  
  "A microscopic swarm?"
  
  "Possibly."
  
  The mist started to move toward Takerra. It swirled about, causing the Andorian to step back.
  
  "I'm Commander Takerra Shran." Takerra said, uncomfortably addressing the mist. "This is the USS Explorer."
  
  As if responding to her voice a mist tendril lurched forward, it swirled around T'Char's feet and wrapped her in thin strands of thin grey mist. Soon all the mist had joined it, swirling around the Vulcan as it lifted her off the ground.
  
  T'Char gasp in shock and her eyes rolled back in her head, green blood began to trickle out of her eyes. The tricorder slipped from her hands and clattered onto the floor.
  
  Instinctively, Takerra leapt forward. She collided with the scientist, tackling her. Together, they slipped out of the mist and toppled to the floor. Takerra rolled back to her feet, while T'Char remained slumped over on the floor. She was still conscious, but barely. In a swift fluid motion, Takerra pulled her phaser and fired it into the mist. The beam passed through it effortlessly and splashed off the forcefield.
  
  The mist hung in the air for a few second before condensing back on itself. It shaped itself into a grey silhouette of T'Char. The featureless grey shadow stood there, before gliding over the force field. It placed its hand against the forcefield.
  
  Suddenly, there was some movement outside of the force field. The bodies of the missing scientists floated into view, burned and mutilated by the EPS explosion. They lined up outside the field, their mouths moving.
  
  Takerra scooped up T'Char's tricorder and used them to access the corpse's combadges.
  
  A moment later, a ghostly chorus of voices filled the room.
  
  "We are..." the voices announced, "... you are not."
  
  The ship shuddered as the pressure increased again.
  
  ---
  
  Takerra sat in the Explorer's ready room. The pressure against the ship's hull had spiked when T'Char made contact with the mist, reducing their surviving time to a handful of hours. She had gathered a handful of her staff, including the science researcher, Two, and T'Char. Refusing to seek treatment, T'Char was being treated monitored by Nurse Riles, the Bajoran nurse she had seen outside of deflector control.
  
  Takerra sat at the end of the table, looking at the monitors. On one was a live feed from deflector control, where the mist creature remained unmoved. On the other screen, a series of images and specifications were being displayed by a Bajoran scientist.
  
  "The deflector pulse caused by the overload tore a 'hole' into the wormhole, we were sucked in to this 'space'. I say the term loosely, as it appears to be more of a 'side-dimension' rather than the space within the wormhole itself." The Bajoran scientist explained.
  
  "Now the natives want to destroy us."
  
  "Native," T'Char announced weakly. She sat slumped in her chair, blood still trickled from her ears. "It is a single life form and it doesn't 'want' anything, it is acting on instinct."
  
  "Instinct?"
  
  "We are inside of it. We don't belong here. It is attempting to remedy it."
  
  "We're a sliver." Takerra nodded. "We cut into it, and now its immune system is trying to dispose of us."
  
  "An apt analogy." T'Char agreed weakly.
  
  "Is it intelligent? Can we reason with it."
  
  "I do not know." T'Char started. The look on her face was strained as if recalling the experience hurt even more. "It is different than any mind I've touched before and I am not sure how to describe it. It's not exactly sentient but there is intelligence there. It is aware through the entire vastness of its existence. Imagine being able to see, hear, smell, taste and touch out of every cell in your body simultaneously. It is" she paused, "overwhelming... It is possible that we have discovered a new 'form' of thought."
  
  "Can we shoot our way out?" Takerra asked.
  
  "We can use the phasers to evaporate parts of the mist, though I suspect it will respond negatively."
  
  "What about going back where we came from?"
  
  "Given the eddies in the mist, we've calculated approximately where we came in. It is not far, however with the sensor damage, we cannot confirm if the tear is still even there."
  
  "Can we get there?"
  
  "Currently no." Two explained, "There is no 'subspace' here, so we couldn't make a warp bubble if we wanted too. Both impulse engines and thrusters would likely damage the entity and elicit the threat response."
  
  "So, what are our options?" Takerra tented her fingers, pressing it to her nose. Her eyes glanced back at their misty visitor.
  
  The hypospray hissed as the nurse administered another concoction to T'Char. While she was doing so, she turned to Takerra. "What about a Hypospray?" she asked.
  
  "What?"
  
  "Hypospray's administer liquids into the body using compressed air." she said, twirling it about in her hand. "What if we used pressurized air to move the ship."
  
  Two picked up her padd. Her metallic finger ticking off its surface.
  
  "We could pressurize parts of the ship. We would need to lower the shields, which would substantially reduce the amount of time we would survive if this didn't work. If we reinforced the SIF generators..." she mused returning to her calculations. "It could work."
  
  "I may be able to reduce the pressure." T'Char said, "If I could restablish contact with the entity, I might be able to convince it ease it's grip."
  
  "Your last contact was 2 seconds long, and it almost killed you." Takerra nodded, shaking her head. "I can't allow that Commander."
  
  "If the plans fails we will all die." T'Char replied, "I would appreciate your support in this."
  
  Takerra raised her eyebrow, hearing her own words echoed back to her.
  
  She sighed, cursing T’Char. Then she nodded in agreement.
  
  "Do what you need to do. But as soon as you do find a way to dump the thing back out in its own space."
  
  She pointed to the navigator. "I want you to work Astrometrics, figure out exactly where we're going."
  
  She turned to the group of scientists. "If the tear is already closed, we'll need to reopen it. Can you re-create the burst that got us here?"
  
  "The damage to the deflector was substantial." they said, "Doing so would blow out the deflector entirely. Not to mention the damage to the secondary EPS power systems."
  
  "Figure it out." She said. "We're dead otherwise."
  
  She stood up from the chair to address the group together.
  
  "We'll get one shot at this before we're crushed like a tin can."
  
  ---
  
  Takerra couldn't sit still.
  
  Instead, she stood by her tactical station monitoring the information from the various departments. She looked at the countdown timer, there was less than two hours before the shield's failed and the pressure crushed the ship. Information came in from the various departments confirming that things were almost ready for escape attempt.
  
  After securing everything that wasn't tied down, Two pressurized parts of the ship, including two additional pressurized pockets on the port and starboard side giving them a limited mobility. Navigation had plotted their best course. Astrometrics boosted the damaged sensors, they had pulled off a minor miracle and given them an increased chance of finding the tear. The surviving researchers had reconfigured the deflector, doing their best to give them a second chance at opening the tear if they had too. Of course doing so would burn out the deflector and cripple the sensors completely.
  
  T'Char had been confined to a portable medbed. She had been meditating since they announced the plan, hoping it would calm her mind to support contact. A group of Vulcan and Betazoid officers volunteered to help her establish contact a second time. They knew the risks, but Takerra suspected an opportunity to encounter a new kind of mind was too tempting to them. Takerra hoped the experience didn't splatter their curious minds all over deflector control.
  
  Takerra stepped over to the engineering panel. Two was standing there, her tubules interfacing directly with the ship's systems. Given the complexity of the plan, she would be the lynch pin to the entire scheme, controlling almost every part of the plan. Only a few months into her rehab, she was still more Borg than human, and the implants would help her handle the requirements of this experiment.
  
  "You ready?" she asked, approaching the engineer.
  
  "Yes commander." She said, "I have interfaced with the necessary systems, my enhanced cognitive capabilities should be capable of handling the situation. However, a more ideal solution would be to use a ship AI."
  
  Takerra nodded, a ship AI was the ideal solution to this situation, but Captain Merrik claimed he was 'too old fashioned' for such a technology. The concept intrigued her, she had read several reviews of pilot projects being tested throughout the fleet, and could see their benefits. She made a mental note to discuss this with the Captain in the future, though she figured all the ice on Andoria would melt before Merrik allowed one to be installed.
  
  "We are ready to begin." Two announced. "You should inform the crew."
  
  Takerra nodded, and tapped her combadge.
  "All hands." she announced. "We are about to attempt our escape. Please report to your designated stations, and brace yourself for a rough ride."
  
  "Red Alert" she said, taking her place in the chair. She flicked up the small screen and dials into the video feed from Deflector Control.
  T'Char was sitting in a medbed, surrounded by a group of Vulcan's and Betazoid crew, they appeared to be meditating.
  
  "Shran to T'Char, begin at your discretion." She announced. "Stand by Two, be ready to kick this off. "
  
  Takerra watched the feed from deflector control.
  
  T'Char's bed moved slowly toward her misty doppleganger. As soon as it made contact, the mist pooled onto the bed engulfing her again.
  
  There was a loud scream from one of the Betazoids, and he toppled to the ground, falling away from the group. The other's held on, though the look on their faces was strained.
  
  "We are not." they said, their voices resonating through the camera feed.
  
  "Out." T'Char said, her voice taking dominance over the group’s. Together they repeated the same words, though Takerra was sure there was a lot more going on.
  
  "Away."
  
  "Move."
  
  "Out."
  
  The ship shuddered. Takerra looked up from the monitor and faced two.
  
  "Pressure is reducing." Two announced. Somehow her mechanical voice sounded even more machine-like than it did. "Commencing in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1"
  
  
  ---
  
  
  Takerra let out a sigh of relief as the Bajoran Wormhole closed and the viewscreen filled with the familiar starfield of the Bajor sector.
  
  "Report?" she asked. She turned to face the Two. Two's face seemed even more pale than normal and there was a rare sign of exhaustion in her eyes.
  
  "We're clear of the wormhole." Two announced, her voice sounding relatively normal. "Deflector dish is burnt out and will require significant repair, as will many of the related EPS substems. Several SIF generators are offline, though the backups are compensating properly. Damage control reports structural damage on both pylons and across the forward saucer section. All things considered, not too bad."
  
  "Sickbay?" Takerra asked, tapping her combadge.
  
  "Sickbay here. Commander T'Char has entered a healing trance and several members of the telepathic circle have been put into medically induced coma's to aid their recovery." Sickbay reported, "Otherwise, minor injuries reported shipwide, largely bumps and bruises."
  
  "Good." Takerra smiled, her antenna relaxed. "Contact DS9 control, see if they can get us a tow back to the docking rings."
  
  She pulled up a padd and began downloading ship reports. As the information slid past her eyes, she sighed "I'm going to be filling out paperwork for a month."

  0
• starswordc Member Posts: 10,963 Arc User

  June 2014 edited June 2014

  Reality Is Fluid, Part I

  And the battle's just begun
  There's many lost, but tell me who has won
  The trench is dug within our hearts
  And mothers, children, brothers, sisters
  Torn apart
  
  Sunday, Bloody Sunday
  Sunday, Bloody Sunday
  
  How long...
  How long must we sing this song
  How long, how long...

  — "Sunday Bloody Sunday", U2

  
  
  “This project ushers in a new era of cooperation between Cardassia and Bajor. We are healing the wounds of the Occupation and the Dominion War, blah blah blah.” Okay, that last part was me.
  
  I hate this. I hate having to wear my dress whites. I hate having to sit still for pompous, overweight, overpaid politicos like First Minister Arvel Selan when the Bajor Cup is going on. (Seriously, I’ve got a hundred credits on Tomis Lee in the quarter-finals and they’re playing right now!) I hate getting pulled off more important duties like the Jenolan patrol to listen to these verbosities. I hate this insane idea for invasive scans of the Celestial Temple. Actually, I’m not alone on that last one: the Vedek Assembly, Kai Kira, and Captain Kurland and Admiral Marconi all filed formal protests all the way up to the Federation Council. One or two of the more conservative vedeks actually threatened Arvel with excommunication if he let the project go forward (although that was vetoed, unfortunately).
  
  Most of all, I hate being forced to choose between being Bajoran and being a Starfleet officer. I’ve been ordered by my legal chain of command to take part in this thing, because it’ll supposedly look good for the Federation to have a Bajoran captain with a fifteen percent-Bajoran crew, commanding a ship named USS Bajor, testing out this new trans-temporal/planar sensor array, and though I’ve protested to as many people as I can think of, at this point it’s basically either do it or resign.
  
  Supposedly I’m representative of some overpaid analyst’s idea of the “new Bajor” since I’m part of the post-Dominion War generation, and it’s in my file that I’m not particularly religious (a “Christmas and Easter Christian”, Warragul calls it, although I think that’s exaggerating). But though I may not put much stock in all the prophecies and other gibberish I’m still Bajoran and I still worship the Prophets. At the same time, objectively I know these people know what they’re doing and that therefore it’s not really important enough to resign my commission over. So I’m stuck.
  
  Oh, good, that damn windbag’s finally shut up. I make a mental note to vote for, well, whoever the phekk is running against him in the next election, and force myself to pay attention to Admiral Marconi, commander of the Beta Ursae Fleet Area. Poor man looks about as pleased to see the Cardassians here as the rest of Bajor who listen to the news. “… We are, ahem, very pleased to have with us Professor Atani Dukat, representing the Cardassian Science Ministry, who will be providing the briefing.”
  
  What, Castellan Lang couldn’t be bothered to attend in person? Shows how important this stupidity really is to Cardassian-Bajoran reconciliation. “Thank you, Admiral. I’m honored to be here on Deep Space 9, where so many momentous events during my childhood took place.” Yeah, I just bet you are. Then I realize she’s looking at me. “And I’m humbled to be able to meet a Bajoran in a Federation uniform, look her in the eye, and be able to tell her, I’m sorry. For everything my people, and especially my father, the late, unlamented Gul Skrain Dukat, did to both your peoples.”
  
  Oh. That Dukat. Then the rest of the sentence percolates through my brain. “Um. Uh, thank you, I guess.”
  
  “Small consolation, I’m sure. It’s going to take a lot longer than forty years to heal those wounds. I’m just hoping to contribute a little.”
  
  The briefing doesn’t tell me anything I don’t already know. The project, codenamed Schrödinger’s Butterfly for some reason, came out of a couple of incursions by the Terran Empire in the so-called mirror universe last year. As best I understand it it’s an attempt to detect and observe alternate realities close enough to us that the Celestial Temple, what everyone else calls the Bajoran wormhole, can connect to them. My eyes pretty much glazed over after that. All I know is, they want my ship, specifically, for political reasons as previously noted, and they’re making modifications to the deflector dish to do it. Apparently the existing sensor arrays weren’t powerful enough or something. Yeah, on a Galaxy-class starship. That’s Starfleet Science for you: a nav deflector is for generating weird particles, not for pushing TRIBBLE out of your way when you’re at warp.
  
  Captain Kurland elbows me. “Kanril, we’re done.”
  
  “What? Oh. Sorry, must’ve dozed off.” I stand and head to the door. Maybe I can catch the tail end of the springball match at Quark’s.
  

  ---

  
  I got lucky, managed to get to the bar in time to see Tomis Lee, a cute redhead from my home province of Kendra, body-check Ahanu Terel clean out of the ring. Part of the bar erupts in cheers and I join in. I grab barman Hadron’s shirt sleeve and tell him, “Hathon hammer.”
  
  “What?”
  
  “Hathon hammer!” I shout at him.
  
  “Okay!”
  
  I turn back to the game on the screen hung from the second floor railing over the dabo table, which has been shut down for the duration. Ahanu, who’s a quarter Cardassian and looks it, is rubbing his shoulder and looks pissed at Tomis.
  
  Somebody touches my shoulder. “Is this seat taken?”
  
  I turn. It’s Gaarra. “Really? You use that line on me, again?”
  
  “It worked the first time, didn’t it?”
  
  I laugh and point a finger at him. “Don’t think that just because I’m not saying ‘no’ that you get lucky tonight. I’m still your captain.”
  
  “Look, Eleya? Right now I just want to watch the game and get good and plastered so I don’t have to think about what they’re doing to my deflector dish or what the Prophets are going to think about us poking around in the Temple.”
  
  I snort. “Don’t remind me. Hell, I heard Marconi went all the way up to SecDef about it. HEY! That’s a foul! Y’trel bo tava tu san yc’fel, Dakhur’etil va’yaputal!”
  
  “You wanna come over here and say that?” somebody from the Ahanu cheering section hollers.
  
  “No fighting! No fighting!” Hadron yells, panicking.
  
  “Relax, Hadron, just an honest insult match between folk. I would but I’m busy drinking over here!” I yell back at the tough guy. I hear somebody in that direction burst out laughing and Gaarra snickers next to me.
  
  “Is this seat taken?”
  
  This time it’s that Cardassian woman, Atani Dukat. “That seems to be a popular line around here. Go ahead. He’s got some kanar.”
  
  “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve never liked it much. Bartender, Samarian sunset please.”
  
  I sneak a closer look at her as she sits down to my right. Graying black hair tied back with a dark red ribbon, hooked nose, scale ridge around the eyes isn’t too prominent. The eyes are the right color for that monster but everything else is way off. “I take after my mother, if that’s what you’re wondering, Captain,” she says without looking at me.
  
  “Didn’t mean to stare.”
  
  “It’s all right. Not every day you meet someone who’s related to an infamous war criminal.”
  
  “I didn’t—”
  
  She sighs and rests her head in her left hand, looking at me askance. “You didn’t have to. I know that look. Captain Kanril, I’m sure you won’t believe me but I really did mean what I said during the briefing.”
  
  “Look, Professor,” Gaarra says, “I get what you’re trying to do, but you’re focused on the political aspects of this and missing the religious side.”
  
  “No, I’m not, actually.” She sits up and turns to face us as Hadron comes back with our drinks. “You’re worried about the wormhole aliens, the Prophets. I don’t agree with your beliefs but I have the utmost respect for them. I actually argued against Schrödinger’s Butterfly to the Ministry for months but I was ignored.” She takes a sip of her drink. “I finally volunteered to run the project when it became clear it was going to happen whether I liked it or not, so best to do it myself so I know it gets done right. I imagine that’s sort of why you two are staying on.”
  
  “Partly,” I admit.
  
  “See? We can agree that it’s a bad idea, at least.” The Cardassian raises her glass. “Truce?”
  
  “Yeah, all right. Truce.” The three of us clink glasses and drink.
  
  She turns to look at the springball match. “So who’s winning?” she asks, changing the subject.
  
  “Ahanu’s up one because the referee’s going blind,” Gaarra answers, “but Tomis has time to close it up. Yep, there he goes, wow!” The bar erupts in cheers again.
  
  Then the buzzer sounds. Tie game, meaning sudden death. Ahanu serves, Tomis returns, Ahanu rams him and sends it high, Tomis jumps and swats it down, Ahanu rushes forward but his return is out of the ring and the match is over! The cheering is deafening and I grab Gaarra’s head and kiss him.
  

  ---

  
  “Everything ready?” I ask Gaarra. It’s 1032 hours and he’s supervising the last of the installation.
  
  “One more connection, the stress test, and then we get to the scanning,” he answers. “Hey, be careful with that!” he yells at one of the Bajorans from the Center for Science who dropped something that looked expensive.
  
  “Sorry, Lieutenant.”
  
  “Commander,” one of Gaarra’s petty officers corrects him.
  
  “Commander, sorry. Look, no damage. No harm, no foul, right?”
  
  “Get it stowed, Mr. Ameno.” Gaarra turns back to me with an exasperated look on his face. “Civilians.”
  
  “Don’t I know it,” I say with a chuckle. “Bellevue, you ready?”
  
  “Aye, Captain,” the petty responds. “Stress test coming out green across the board. We’re good to go.”
  
  “Okay. Be careful, Commander.”
  
  “Hey. It’s me.”
  
  I head for the turbolift and the bridge while Gaarra stays behind to monitor the deflector in person. I plop down in The Chair. “Ensign Esplin, we’re ready to roll. Request clearance for departure.”
  
  “Aye, ma’am,” the Saurian confirms. “DS9 Flight Control, this is USS Bajor, requesting clearance to launch.”
  
  “Kurland here. You’re cleared to launch, Bajor.”
  
  “Lieutenant Park, you may begin undocking.”
  
  “Aye, Captain. Docking tube disengaged,” the conn officer reports. “Umbilicals disengaged. Docking clamps retracted. We are detached. Firing starboard thrusters.” The ship slides sideways ten meters. “Firing aft thrusters.” The ship begins to slowly accelerate. “We are clear of the station.”
  
  “Let’s hope the rest of the day goes this smoothly. Move us to the coordinates. Master Chief, is there anything coming through the wormhole?”
  
  “Not for another three days,” Master Chief Wiggin answers. “Our listening posts on the far side all read negative for ship traffic.”
  
  “Professor Dukat, your team ready?”
  
  “We’re ready,” the Cardassian woman confirms from one of the secondary consoles. “By the way, Captain Kanril, can I compliment you on your science officer? Commander Riyannis really knows her astrophysics. I had a good time talking n-dimensional subspace mechanics with her earlier.”
  
  “Ma’am, I have no idea what you just said but I’ll accept the compliment.”
  
  “Captain,” Park says, “we’re in position.”
  
  “All stop. Thrusters to station-keeping. Professor, you have sensor control.”
  
  “I have sensor control,” she confirms. “Um, no, I don’t.”
  
  “Master Chief?” I query.
  
  “Hang on. There, try it now.”
  
  “Thank you.” She presses her intercom key. “Schrödinger’s team, this is Professor Dukat. Let’s do this by the book. I’m going to start with a low power scan and slowly ramp it up. Let’s give it a three-second pulse, default settings. Mark.” There’s a faint hum through the floor as the deflector powers up. “Okay, got a good return on that one. Hm, interesting. I’m picking up a station in the same position as our Deep Space 9, but it’s a Federation configuration. Okay, let’s go again. 2.8 gigahertz, amplitude 12, two seconds. Mark.” Hum. “That’s a … Dominion alloy signature, big enough to be a Jem’Hadar battle squadron transiting the wormhole. That may be an alternate timeline where the alliance lost the war.”
  
  “Any chance they picked up the pulse?” Wiggin asks. He’s getting at Rule #1 of active sensors: if you can see them, they can see you.
  
  “There’s always a chance but it’s likely they wouldn’t know what to do with it if they did. At least in our timeline, we know the Founders place the same restrictions on temporal research as the rest of us.”
  
  “How many more scans left in the program?” I ask.
  
  “Six, Captain. Today’s mainly for proof of concept, just to confirm that the theory works and maybe get us some hints on how to control which timeline we’re looking at. Test three, 2.9 gigahertz, amplitude 13, four seconds. Mark.”
  
  And all Hell breaks loose. Sirens start shrieking and a faint jolt is conducted through the floor. “Status!” I bark.
  
  “EPS conduit failure in Deflector Control!” an ops noncom answers. “Picking up a power surge! Controls nonresponsive!”
  
  “Medical and damage control teams to Deflector Control!” Tess orders into her intercom. “What in the—”
  
  On the viewscreen my worst fears are realized as a coruscating beam of golden light erupts from beneath the saucer, lancing straight out at the Celestial Temple. The wormhole erupts, blue swirl now tinged with gold. I hear Biri yell something about the wormhole’s event horizon expanding but all I can do is sit there. “Prophets, what have we done?”
  

  ---

  
  There’s an instant of blinding light and the bridge is empty but for me. “Hello?” I stand and look around. The viewscreen is blank and snowed over with static.
  
  “Hello,” a warm voice comes from behind me.
  
  I turn. It’s a human in an old ‘70s-era uniform, dark skin, goatee, shaved bald. “Ni’dal,” I breathe. “Emissary.”
  
  “The answer to your question is, nothing that wasn’t intended. The Prophets play the long game, always have. You didn’t do any damage to the wormhole that it won’t recover from easily.” He looks me up and down. “A Bajoran in a Starfleet command uniform, with captain’s insignia. I didn’t know if I’d ever see the day.”
  
  “I’m not the first, Emissary.” It’s the truth. There’s been at least thirty other Bajoran COs in Starfleet by now. One of them, Kel Nola, class of ‘87, even died commanding a Galaxy-class.
  
  “Call me Ben. No, Captain Kanril, you’re not the first, but you’re important to the Prophets. You, more than any of the others, are important to them. I guess they would say, ‘You are of Bajor,’ and it's true in more ways than one.”
  
  “Okay, so I’m important. What now?”
  
  “Well, now you’re going to fulfill Emer Dareloth’s Second Prophecy. I believe it reads, ‘The sky turns to water. The daughter of the valley travels in the sky. Enemies become allies to stem the coming tide.’”
  
  Oh, lovely. “I’ve never put much stock in the prophecies, Emis—Ben. Even when they do come true, they never come true the way anyone predicts. Hell, you yourself ran into that with Trakor’s Third, or so I read. Kind of makes them hard to use as a guide to anything.”
  
  “You may not put much stock in the prophecies but the prophecies put stock in you.” Sisko turns and waves a hand at the viewscreen, which shifts to show the springball match I was watching earlier. “The Prophets play the long game, as I said, but they also have to allow for free will or the game breaks down. They’re also not the only player in the springball match: this universe of ours is littered with entities of similar power.”
  
  “Are you talking about Q?”
  
  “Q is one example. The Organians are another.”
  
  “Refresh my memory, please?”
  
  “They enforced a peace between the Federation and the Klingon Empire in the 2260s that led directly to the signing of the Khitomer Accords in 2293. They haven’t been active in our area of space for a long while but that could always change. But you don’t need to worry about that. You need to worry about your duty to your crew. You mostly have the right idea about the prophecies: they either get fulfilled or they don’t, in the course of sapient beings acting on their own. Don’t try to be a great person. Just be a good person, and let history make its own judgments. I’m close to out of time here—”
  
  “‘Time’? Really?”
  
  “Unavoidable pun, I’m afraid. As I was saying, the only specific guidance I’m allowed to give you is a warning: You have a saboteur aboard.”
  
  “The Cardassians?”
  
  “I’ve said as much as I’m allowed to. The Prophets took advantage of his plan, which compared to other attempts to destroy this place was rather incompetent. All he did was temporarily redirect the Idran system side.”
  
  “To where?”
  
  “You’ll figure it out on your own quickly enough. He’s still dangerous to you and your crew, which endangers the prophecy and the Alpha Quadrant. Watch your back, Kanril Eleya.”
  

  END OF PART ONE

  ---

  
  Author's Note: I've decided that it's fun writing Eleya when she's pissed off at the universe in general, as in the start of this chapter, and that I need to find more excuses to do it.
  
  I hope I did Sisko right. Always a bit tricky using other people's characters.
  
  The universe they detect where there's a Federation station in place of Deep Space 9 is supposed to be the novelverse timeline, where SPOILER DS9 got blown up by the Typhon Pact in 2384.

  "Great War! / And I cannot take more! / Great tour! / I keep on marching on / I play the great score / There will be no encore / Great War! / The War to End All Wars"
  — Sabaton, "Great War"
  

  

  
  Check out https://unitedfederationofpla.net/s/

  0
• icerose20 Member Posts: 18,379 Arc User

  June 2014 edited June 2014

  Meeting long overdue
  
  
  “Stardate, whenever. Captain Rose O’Connell of the USS Richmond K. Turner. With finally prep made by a battery of Bajoran, Cardassian, Federation, Klingon, and whomever else is here scientists; we are ready to leave DS9 and scan the wormhole with these sensors/deflector package. Why they are using the RKT, Charon class escort, and not a true science ship, only God know, and thankfully he hasn't talked to me in years. Reigun, my ChEng, and Nelen, my CSO, are making sure that nothing has gone wrong and they have a wonderful job. I hope that whenever my friends leave me for their next phase in life, their replacements in my crew are as half as understanding as they are. To think that my family...computer end log.”
  
  “Ops here, Captain. We are ready when you are.”
  
  “Thanks Kira” said the red haired Captain. She was in her light combat armor as she walked out of her ready room. Her redhair put into her usual midway ponytail as she strode to her Captain’s chair. She looked around to see who and who wasn't up on the bridge. Rehara, her Andorian XO and classmate from the Academy hadn't gotten up from the Captain’s chair yet. Kira D'Artganean and Victoria Marshall were in their customary chairs on the bridge watching Tactical and Engineering Operations. A new face was on the bridge in the Science chair this morning, Alexandria Butler, instead of Nelen, but this was according to plan. Other then the XO chair, the other open seat was the conn chair. Rose smiled, obviously her friend was baiting her. She gave a sideways glance to Rehara, smiled and took it. She never passed up a chance to pilot this ship, never.
  
  “I have the conn, Commander.” she said.
  
  “I thought you'd like this chance, Ice. Me or you, Captain?” said Rehara.
  
  “You're in the chair, R. You get to make the call” said Rose from the conn chair.
  
  Over the PA system, Rehara's voice spoke “All hand, this is your XO speaking, time to take this baby out. All Hands, yellow alert.” The Yellow alert Klaxon went off.
  
  In less then a minute, Alexandria chimed to the bridge, “All Stations at yellow alert status.”
  
  Almost before Rehara gave the command, Rose was into her conn duties. “Releasing Umbilicals, now”
  
  “Umbilicals Away.” said Victoria.
  
  “Disengaging Docking Clamps”
  
  “Docking Clamps disengaged”
  
  “Forward thrusters at half, engaging now.”
  
  “We are clear of the station, sir”
  
  “I told you never to call me, sir, Kira.” said Rose “Port forward thruster, 3 second burst, now”
  
  A chuckle came form Rehara “I think that was for me.”
  
  Rose blushed embarrassment from that, but was still actively maneuvering the RKT out from DS9 so wasn't about to make snide comment.
  
  Rehara looked around and noticed everyone was smiling at the little altercation. 'Good, they are all relaxed as they can be, I am going to miss this crew.'
  
  “All right, setting a course for the wormhole, Half impulse, Go.” said Rose as she engaged the impulse drive to take them to the wormhole. “So R, who is really on conn duty now?”
  
  “You are, Ice. What better way to keep you from going bonkers then piloting this ship? Tyra and me both thought this was best. Also, if something does happen with our new sensors and package, I want our best pilot in the chair. You're still the captain and if you want to you can sit in this quiet comfortable chair, but I do think this is the best option. You, piloting, and me, following your lead.”
  
  “Should take us an hour to get there.” said Rose as she tapped her comm badge. “Reigun, Nelen. You got an hour for final checks before we are at the requested position for the test.”
  
  “No worries, Rose” said Reigun, the Australian raised, male Orion Chief Engineer. “There is nothing your Engineering crew can't handle. We are doing the last Captain Cook now, but the boards are reading Green.”
  
  “Nelen here, Captain. I am at the deflector/sensor room, and will have the final checks done within the allotted time.” said Nelen.
  
  “R, it might be a good idea to stand down from yellow alert till we are ready to do this exercise.” said Rose from the conn chair.
  
  “Thought you would never ask, Captain” as Rehara hit the chairs comms. “Rehara here, stand down from Yellow alert. I repeat, Stand Down from Yellow alert.”
  
  The next hour was uneventful, as the RKT got closer to the wormhole.
  
  “Ok, stopping the the requested distance, Commander.” said Rose from the Conn chair.
  
  “This is Rehara, again. All hand, yellow alert” as the klaxon went off again.
  
  “All station reporting in”
  
  Rose topped her comm badge. “Tyra, secure channel.” Rose put a small headset and mic up around her ear, and pulled up a small screen on the conn station. On it was the face of her purple haired CMO, Tyrahini. “How are you holding up, Tyra.?”
  
  “I'm fine, nothing I haven't felt before with this crew, they are somewhat anxious, as am I. Poking into the Bajoran wormhole usually doesn't work out the way we think, and we all know it. You holding up, Rose?”
  
  “You know me.”
  
  “I do, that why I worry.” she smiled weakly. “Medical Teams ready, Captian.”
  
  “Take care, Tyra.” “I guess we are as ready as we will ever be.”
  
  “Nelen, do it.”
  
  “Affirmative, Captain.”
  
  Rose looked at her conn station as the readings form the sensors came in. Of course, it didn't take long for something to go wrong.
  
  “We have sensors taking up more power then allocated, sir.” said Victoria form her station.
  
  “Nelen, what's happening down there?”
  
  “I don't “
  
  (white Flash)
  
  Rose looked around to get her bearing, she wasn't on the bridge of the RKT anymore. No she was on the bridge of the Defiant. She was sitting in the conn chair, trying to figure out what just happened when a voice came from behind her.
  
  “My, you have grown Rose.” said the voice.
  
  She turned and looked at who was sitting in the command chair.
  
  “It can't be.” she exclaimed.
  
  “Oh yes it can.” said Captain Benjamin Sisko sitting in the command chair.
  
  “But, but..”
  
  Sisko chuckled. “Just because you aren't in the wormhole or near a Orb, doesn't mean the Prophets can't get into contact with anyone.”
  
  “So my ship..”
  
  “Is fine, seems the package you picked up blew an EPS conduit up near the deflector array. You got three injuries, but nothing that a few days rest wont heal.”
  
  “So what warning are you giving me? The prophets don’t just talk to anyone without a reason” said Rose.
  
  “You are right, but sometimes the reason is purely selfish. I wanted to say hello, and see how you are doing. It is hard to get any information from the normal space, about life, family, friends. I know they are alive at this time you show up here, and I know when they will die, as time is far more chaotic in here.”
  
  “So no warning about impending multiverse destruction?” said Rose.
  
  “Nope.”
  
  “What a relief.” as she blew out from her mouth, the air hitting her loose hair on her forehead.
  
  “So how is your family, Rose?” asked Sisko.
  
  Immediately Rose's posture went from relief and excitement to dread. “You don't know?”
  
  “I know it is hard to explain, but in here, time doesn't come in one line, but in several threads, I can observer the past, present and future, but not in a linear fashion. I can see the destruction of a star, the emergence of the same star, the destruction of its planets as it engages a different burning cycle, and even the formation of those same worlds in flashes. I know it is hard to comprehend, Hell, I have been in here a year, completely immersed in it, and I don't quite get it.”
  
  “It's been 34 years since you disappeared, Captain.”
  
  “Damn, I should have realized that when I saw you, I remember I was their at your baptism, with your mother and father, barely a week old. I remember you running around asking to get into Quark's to see the last party, 2 right?”
  
  “Yes, Captain. You said 'No, Rose you are too young, you might trip and hurt yourself.' I was always tripping over my own feet back then.”
  
  Sisko smiled. “Even at 2, you were remarkable, but then you are your mother and fathers child. They were special, too. I don't know if I or my friends would have survived without them. And to think, all they asked was a place to raise you safely.” he chuckled. “To think of a place like DS9 during the Dominion war was safe, that place had to be hell.”
  
  “And you were there, Captain, you know it was.”
  
  “that I do, Rose. So please tell me, are they still alive?” pleaded Sisko.
  
  “My mother died three years later, leading a SpecOps team in Cardassian space, saving people from pirates pillaging a colony...” said Rose looking down.
  
  “I'm sorry, Rose, she was a great person. What about your father?”
  
  “He died 12 years latter at home, while I was at Star Fleet Academy.” said Rose not looking at Sisko, trying and failing to hide the tears flowing down her face.
  
  “I am truly sorry, Rose. They were both friends that I cared about, I wish you could have been there for you.”
  
  “YOU SHOULD HAVE STOPPED DAD.” She turned and yelled at Sisko with a vengeance that made Sisko take a step back. She slumped in the chair. “You should have been there to stop him, what good is being a demigod if you can't stop your friends from killing themselves.”
  
  Sisko sat down on in front of Rose, and did the only thing he thought of to do, the father in him took her and hugged her deeply. He now saw what she saw, from her memories, the authorities at her/their house, he walking into the front room, and seeing in her dad's chair, the white sheet. She moved to it and took it off, revealing her father. She could see in his hand a phaser, and under his chin, the burnmarks of that phaser. He felt her rage, her pain, her loss, as much as it was his own. He then saw what she saw, a piece of paper in his other hand. 'To my daughter Rose, it is a heavy heart that I leave you, you are a treasure that has kept me alive for these last 15 years, a joy, but I the pull of Allicia death has marked my soul ever since she died. It is time to finally see her, for I have done everything I can to help you thrive in this new world. I died 15 years ago when we buried your mother, time to end this inbetween that I have existed since then, Love Dad.'
  
  As he came back to this place, he could tell she was still sobbing, hurt by what she saw was a selfish betrayal. He held her tight for ages it seems, hoping her tears would stop, his would stop.
  
  Then, he knew he could no longer hold back normal space and time, he then seperated himself from her and spoke. “I have felt what your father did when Jennifer died, and at times for those few years there was times, I thought about what he did. Maybe I would have done it if things were different. Still, I can not take away that pain, it will always be there, always. Even here I feel Jennifer's death here, and it still hurts. All I can say is that trust your heart, he loved more then his life, he loved his wife more then his life. Remember that, and eventually you will forgive yourself and him. Take care, Rose O'Connell, and we will see each other again.”
  
  (white flash)
  
  “What the hell happened down there?” yelled Rehara.
  
  Rose looked around and saw the RKT bridge. She looked at Rehara as Rehara looked at her. Rehara was perplexed as the damage control information came in. Rose was crying.
  
  Why was she crying? It just happened, thought Rehara.

  Ancient Griffon insult
  
  That one is so stupid, he lost a Rock/Paper/Scissors game to a Pony.

  0
• starswordc Member Posts: 10,963 Arc User

  June 2014 edited June 2014

  Reposting this in the original challenge thread.
  
  

  Reality Is Fluid, Part II

  
  
  A flash in my mind and I’m back on my real bridge. “What’s our status?” I shout at Tess.
  
  Biri answers instead, “Response team says an EPS conduit exploded and sent a power surge into the Butterfly modifications, and before anyone still awake could stop it the dish sent a theta-verteron beam into the wormhole! Gravity field strength spiked and pulled us in before we could compensate!”
  
  “Casualties?”
  
  “Six dead, eight wounded! Commander Reshek is—”
  
  Gaarra. I’m out of the chair before she can finish the sentence and running for the turbolift. “Deflector Control!”
  
  “Captain!” Tess yells. “Computer, hold turbolift!”
  
  “What?” Tess walks up to me and grabs the front of my shirt through the doorway. “Let go of me, Tess.”
  
  “No,” she angrily tells me, antennae twitching, storm-gray eyes flashing, “and get your head back in the game, Eleya. I warned you that I wasn’t going to let your feelings for Reshek affect the well-being of this crew. Right now we don’t know what the frak is going on and I need you here, on this bridge, in your chair, getting this sorted out. Otherwise I’m declaring you emotionally compromised and removing you from command in accordance with Starfleet Regulation Six-One-Nine. Do I make myself clear, Captain?” She lets go of my shirt.
  
  “Sorry,” I say.
  
  She seems a little mollified by that. “Apologize to me later. Save this ship now.”
  
  I straighten my jacket and follow her back onto the bridge, forcing myself to focus. “Biri, where the hell are we?”
  
  “Still in the wormhole, El! We just passed the halfway point. Structural integrity field holding steady!”
  
  “Sensor readings are going crazy, Captain!” Professor Dukat shouts to me. “I’ve isolated signatures from thirty-four, no, thirty-five alternate timelines just from passive sensors!”
  
  “Which timeline are we headed to?” I yell over the noise as the Bajor screams around us, battling the tidal forces threatening to pull her apart.
  
  “We’re still in our own, near as I can tell!”
  
  “Conn, keep us centered in the normal flight path!”
  
  Park announces, “Aye, ma’am! Should be exiting into the Idran system in five, four, three, two, one, now!”
  
  The Bajor erupts from the wormhole and shudders to a halt. The silence is sudden and deafening, broken only by the familiar, constant hum of the life-support system. “Report!” Tess orders. “Where are we?”
  
  Biri taps at her keys. “Not the Idran system, that’s for damn sure. I don’t even know where to begin; I’m having trouble making sense of these readings. Master Chief, give me a cold restart of the primary sensor array if it’s still working.”
  
  “No need,” Wiggin says in a worried tone. “I know where we are. Optical sensors coming up now.” The viewscreen turns from static to pale green. No stars, poor visibility, and some yellowish mass blurred off the starboard quarter. “We’re in fluidic space, sir.”
  
  “Prophets forgive us,” a Bajoran petty officer to my right mutters fearfully. “Forgive your wayward children’s insult. Forgive their arrogance.”
  
  What she’d give to know what I know. I hit the intercom key on my chair arm. “All hands, all hands, this is the captain. Yellow alert. Lieutenant Korekh, please report to the bridge.” I let go of the key. “Wiggin, can we get back into the wormhole?”
  
  “No, it’s like the aperture was never there in the first place. Just some leftover ripples.”
  
  “All right, getting any readings of Undine activity? Or any good hiding places nearby?”
  
  “No Undine activity that I can pick up. And if I remember the information from Admiral Tuvok’s expedition late last year, that yellow mass eighteen kilometers off the starboard bow is something like a coral reef, the local equivalent of a planetoid.”
  
  “Biri, any thoughts?”
  
  “According to this there’s a fairly large hollow cavern where we can hide the ship.”
  
  “Conn, get us there.”
  
  The turbolift slides open and the two-meter bulk of my security chief steps out. “Captain.”
  
  “My office, Dul’krah. You too, Tess.” The three of us go inside. “Computer, privacy mode four.”
  
  “Eleya, what’s going on?”
  
  “Dul’krah, I want you to investigate the explosion in the deflector control room as an act of sabotage.”
  
  The big Pe’khdar’s slit pupils narrow. “My team as yet has no evidence that the EPS explosion was anything other than an accident.”
  
  “The Emissary of the Prophets disagrees.” Tess stares at me. “I had a vision when we were in the wormhole, Tess. I met the Emissary. He said we didn’t do any permanent damage and that we have a saboteur aboard.”
  
  Dul’krah gives me a hard look. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”
  
  “Go ahead.”
  
  “It is … strange how much direct action your gods take with your people. Chul’teth and Vo’tak have never appeared to anyone in visions in living memory. No disrespect intended, but I am afraid I cannot accept an unverifiable vision as evidence in an investigation. I also cannot jump to conclusions in an investigation.”
  
  “You do what you have to do, but I reserve the right to tell you ‘I told you so.’ Get to work, Lieutenant.”
  
  “Yes, Captain.” He strides out.
  
  Tess looks at me. “That’s not all Captain Sisko said, is it?”
  
  I shake my head. “No. Apparently we’re part of some plan the Prophets have. You familiar with any of the prophecies?”
  
  “Not really, ma’am.”
  
  “Well, the one in question is Emer’s Second. ‘The sky turns to water. The daughter of the valley travels in the sky. Enemies become allies to stem the coming tide.’”
  
  “Admirably vague,” she comments snidely.
  
  “Yeah, but think about it for a minute. ‘The sky turns to water.’ Fluidic space, anyone?”
  
  “Yes, and you’re from Priyat in the Kendra Valley, I know. But that’s far from the only interpretation.”
  
  “That’s more or less what I said, Tess. Don’t worry, I’m taking this a little skeptically, just maybe not as skeptically as you would.” The intercom chirps and I press the “accept call” key. “Kanril.”
  
  “Park here. We’re in position and powered down.”
  
  “Thanks for the update. Keep passive scans running continuously, and call down to the commissary to get some food up here. We’re probably going to be stuck in fluidic space for a while until the geek squad figures out how to make us a hole back to realspace without the deflector.” I let go of the key and look to Tess. “Is it okay if I go check on my ops officer now, Number One?”
  
  “I don’t see why not; we’re out of danger for the moment. I have the bridge.”
  

  ---

  
  I head down to sickbay. Corpsman Watkins meets me at the door and snaps to attention. “Captain.”
  
  “At ease, Chief. How is everyone?”
  
  She walks inside and I follow. “Petty Officers Vilhjalmsson and Bellevue and Dr. Afyt from the Science Center have minor plasma burns. Master Chief Boepo, Lieutenant Semak, and Datel Mayal from the Cardie Ministry have worse burns and shrapnel injuries.”
  
  “What about Ga—Commander Reshek?”
  
  Watkins leads me into the observation deck of one of the surgery rooms and gestures at the window. Six red-gowned surgeons are laboring over Gaarra, his body anesthetic-masked and motionless, tubes running into and out of his chest. “Dr. Wirrpanda just started on him. Reshek has third-degree plasma and electrical burns over 45% of his body, enough shrapnel embedded in him to set off a weapons detector, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” An orderly enters the surgical theatre with a Biohazard One-marked package. “That’d be the new lungs from the replicator.”
  
  “Is he going to make it?”
  
  “He’ll make it,” she says in a voice that brooks no argument. “Lieutenant Wirrpanda is the finest trauma surgeon I’ve ever served with. He’s saved people with injuries a lot worse than Reshek’s. And Dr. Onas from the Center swears up and down Reshek saved her life. He tackled her out of the way as that conduit blew and took the whole blast on his back.” She touches my shoulder. “You love him, don’t you?” It’s not a question. I turn my head to look at her and the blonde corpsman shrugs. “Part-Betazoid, remember? But even if I wasn’t, it’s all over your face.”
  
  “It’s … complicated.”
  
  “Love always is. I remember my own husband, Kendrick, nearly got scared off when he found out my mother could tell what he was thinking.”
  
  I laugh at that. “Betazoids must make the scariest in-laws in history.” I sober up. “I’m his direct superior officer. I’m not allowed to be in a relationship with him. He knows that.”
  
  “I know, and you’ve been trying to keep your attraction on the down-low so that neither of you gets reassigned. But do you really want to always be wondering if you could have something?”
  
  I open my mouth without really knowing what I’m going to say but my combadge chirps and saves me the trouble. “Kanril.”
  
  “Captain, this is Korekh. Please come to Deflector Control immediately.”
  
  “Copy that; I’m on my way.”
  

  ---

  
  I arrive in the ruins of the control room. Shrapnel and six colors of blood spatter the starboard walls and there’s a gaping, blackened hole in the wall on the port side of the room. Dul’krah tosses me an evidence bag as I walk in. I catch it in the air and look inside. It’s got some sort of tiny burned and twisted gadget in it. “What’s this?”
  
  “Treachery,” Dul’krah snarls. “Sabotage. What you are holding is the remains of a detonator that was attached to one-point-three grams of nitrilin explosive.”
  
  “That’s not enough nitrilin to cause this kind of damage.”
  
  Lieutenant McMillan, holding a tricorder over one of the spatter patterns, answers, “It is when the bomb is mounted inside the primary power regulator.”
  
  “So, bomb goes off, damages the regulator, EPS conduit overloads and blows, and that causes the deflector to emit a theta-verteron beam?”
  
  Master Chief Systems Engineer Kinlo, an old white-haired Klingon from Bynam’s department, shakes her head. “No, that took the extra step of uploading a virus into the control systems to make the dish absorb and emit the extra power.”
  
  Biri steps inside from the corridor. “Whoever did this was proficient in engineering but needs a refresher course in subspace physics. Theta-verterons are completely the wrong particle to cause any damage to the wormhole.”
  
  “Nitrilin is a Breen compound, Dul’krah,” I point out.
  
  “And they sell it to most of the powers in this region,” he counters. “The detonator is Cardassian.”
  
  “Weak,” somebody says, quietly.
  
  “What was that?”
  
  “He said the detonator is Cardassian,” the voice of Professor Dukat says.
  
  I spin and grab her by the shirt and push her back out into the corridor, lifting her clear off the floor and slamming her into the wall. “You. Damned. Phekk’ta. Spoonhead,” I grind out.
  
  “Let go of me!”
  
  “I can’t believe I actually entertained the possibility that you were telling the truth, that you really wanted peace.”
  
  “Captain, unhand the professor, now!” Dul’krah bellows at me. “I have already cleared Dukat’s entire team!”
  
  “Based on what?”
  
  “Based on the computer virus being Bajoran!”
  
  I’m so surprised I just drop Dukat and spin in place. “What?”
  
  “As I said earlier, one cannot jump to conclusions in a criminal investigation. Where you see Cardassian treachery, I see a woman who has handpicked her own team and is smart enough to cover her tracks better than this. I consulted with Master Chief Kinlo, the ranking cyberwarfare specialist aboard the Bajor, and she confirmed that the computer virus carries none of the common fingerprints of Cardassian computer science. And because I know that our crew, even our considerable Bajoran contingent, would not knowingly endanger this vessel, the only remaining suspects are the representatives of the Center for Science. I have already taken the liberty of confining the uninjured members to quarters and will be interrogating each one in turn.”
  
  “Intruders. Weak,” somebody says again.
  
  “What?”
  
  “Captain, what are you hearing?” Biri asks.
  
  “Somebody said we’re weak. Oh, no.” I slap my combadge. “Kanril to bridge. Anything on sensors?”
  
  “I’m having trouble reading through this coral stuff with just passives,” Wiggin answers.
  
  “Tell Park to warm up the engines and get ready to run. I’ll be there shortly.” I start to leave, but then I stop, reach down and offer the professor a hand up. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I shouldn’t have—”
  
  “I forgive you. Go worry about your ship.”
  

  ---

  
  I get to the bridge and Tess barks, “Captain on deck!”
  
  “Carry on. What’s our status?”
  
  “We’re powered up, ready to move on your say-so,” Park responds.
  
  “Take us out to the cavern entrance. I want to get a clearer look at the area.”
  
  “Conn, aye. Coming about.” The view on the screen slowly wheels to the right.
  
  “Captain,” Wiggin suddenly says, “I’m picking up an anomalous energy signature directly above us!”
  
  “Battle stations! Shields up!” The “sky” turns to fire and the planetoid vanishes around us. “Report!”
  
  “Shields holding, 82 percent,” Tess announces. “Switching viewscreen to tactical plot. Oh, frak.”
  
  “Wiggin,” I ask, “just how many Undine ships is that?”
  
  “I count two Tethys-class, six Vila-class, eighteen Dromias-class, over eighty Nicor-class, and two sets of Dactylus¬-class planet-busters.” He pauses. “We’re boned,” he adds.
  
  Prophets, I’m sorry. I failed.
  
  Or not. Flaming Death seems to have a scheduling conflict. “Why aren’t they attacking?” Tess asks to my right. “They’ve got us dead to rights: we’re well within firing range and we’ve got a cinder’s chance in the Northern Wastes of taking them all out.”
  
  “Captain,” Ensign Esplin says from the comms station, “I don’t think they’re the Undine we’re used to.”
  
  “What are you talking about, Ensign?” Biri asks.
  
  “Well, they look different.”
  
  “No, they don’t,” I say.
  
  “Yes, ma’am, they do. The colors are different.”
  
  “No, they’re plain yellow, just like they always are.”
  
  “Ma’am, I don’t know how else to describe it. The striations in the skin of that Vila are ssaurritetla and point forward. They ought to be colored ssuettanet and pointing aft.”
  
  The universal translator’s apparently having problems with those words. “Biri, do you know what she’s saying?”
  
  The Trill nods, slowly smiling. “Reptilian eyes. Captain, Esplin’s a Saurian! She’s seeing them partly in ultraviolet! Computer, I want a screenshot of that Vila-class under ultraviolet light, side-by-side with the same of one of the Vila-class ships encountered in the Jenolan Dyson sphere.”
  
  Chirp. “Processing.”
  
  Biri’s screen flicks to a new image and she throws it up on the main viewscreen. “I’ll see to it you get a commendation for this, Ensign.” The core design of the ship is identical, give or take a few minor variations in tentacle shape (understandable with biotech), but the coloration is very different.
  
  “Esplin,” I ask, “is that true of all of them?”
  
  Esplin nods. Biri suggests, “Captain, we may be dealing with a different tribe or clan, or something to that effect. We know from the Terradome incident that the Undine are at least a little factionalized. We may have an opportunity here.”
  
  “‘Enemies become allies against the coming tide,’” I recall. I stand and straighten the hem of my jacket. “Esplin, open a hailing channel, all frequencies.”
  
  “Channel open.”
  
  “This is Captain Kanril Eleya of the United Federation of Planets. We mean you no harm, but we will defend ourselves if necessary. I would like to speak to whomever is in charge.”
  
  There’s silence for a moment, and then I’m knocked to the floor by a deafening voice in my head. INTRUDER! WEAK!
  
  Tess dashes over to me as I roll on the floor, clutching my head against the pain, screaming. The bridge vanishes into black nothingness around me and I’m faced with an Undine, over three meters tall and as ugly as they come. WHO ARE YOU?
  
  “Kanril Eleya, Captain, USS Bajor, Federation Starfleet, serial number November-Whiskey-2403-4233-2015-4114.”
  
  The Undine’s hand snaps out and grabs me by the neck, lifting me off the ground. Its head, as big as my entire torso, sits in my face. WEAK, its mind-voice bellows as I struggle with the hand.
  
  “We’re stronger … than you think. Kanril Eleya, Captain, USS Bajor, Federation Starfleet—AARGH!”
  
  YOU ARE WEAK. YOU ARE COWARDLY. YOU ATTACK IN THE DARK. YOU KILL HATCHLINGS.
  
  “What … are you talking about?”
  
  The Undine’s head draws back, the patterns in its eyes shifting. The pressure on my throat loosens. UNCOMPREHENDING. CONFUSED. WE WILL SHOW YOU.
  
  Images flash through my mind. An Intrepid-class starship, firing at Undine vessels. A Gorn Tuatara-class cruiser, bombarding a pool on one of those reefs. Tiny creatures that look like small Undine, fleeing the pool and burning under the guns of a Negh’Var-class battlecruiser.
  
  “When did this begin?”
  
  LONG AGO. WE WERE NOT YET BORN.
  
  “Could you be more specific?”
  
  LONG AGO.
  
  “Try. Here, read my mind. I’m thinking about how my people measure time. Try to work it out. GHAAA!”
  
  STRONGER THAN ANTICIPATED. STILL WEAK. IT BEGAN THIRTY-ONE OF YOUR ‘YEARS’ AGO. WE DESTROYED ALL. THEY PERSISTED. SO WE KILL.
  
  “So why didn’t you destroy us?”
  
  YOU ARRIVED. YOU DID NOT ATTACK. YOU HID. WEAK. AFRAID.
  
  “Some among my people say admitting fear is a sign of courage.”
  
  YOU ARE DEFIANT. A STRONG WILL. YOU ARE STILL WEAK.
  
  “Whatever. Here’s the truth. We did not attack you. We never attacked you. Thirty-one years ago we were barely aware of this realm, of fluidic space.”
  
  LIES!
  
  “You can read my mind. You know I’m telling the truth.”
  
  YOU BELIEVE YOUR LIES TO BE TRUTH?
  
  “They’re not lies. You’re being misled. And where do you get off accusing us of attacking in the dark? Pot, kettle.”
  
  WE DID NOT. WE FOUGHT TO PROTECT. WE DEFENDED. Now images of Undine ships attacking the attackers, blowing them away with gusto, rush through my head.
  
  “You tried to destroy us from the inside.”
  
  SHOW US.
  
  I focus on my memories of the Undine playing Ambassador Sokketh. Briefings showing the extent of Undine infiltration in the Federation. The attack on Earth, when Commander E’genn revealed himself and I burned him down.
  
  WE DID NOT DO THIS. THEY ARE WEAK! COWARDLY! SHAMEFUL! BENEATH CONTEMPT!
  
  “I suspected as much,” I say, smiling despite his grip on my neck. “You Undine are no more united than we are. I can tell you who is responsible for the attacks on your hatchlings.”
  
  TELL!
  
  “I want something in exchange. I want you to get your house in order and deal with your ‘weak, shameful’ kin. And I want something else. I want your help defeating them when the time comes.”
  
  TELL! The Undine’s pressure on my throat increases.
  
  “They call themselves … the Iconians,” I gasp out. “They want us … fighting each other. We are strong, you are strong. But divided and fighting each other, we’re both weak.”
  
  WEAK! COWARDLY! SHAMEFUL! KILLERS OF HATCHLINGS! WEAK! BENEATH CONTEMPT! THE WEAK WILL PERISH!
  
  The Undine lets go of me and I fall into the blackness below its feet, and I’m back on the bridge with Doctor Maela standing over me with a tricorder. “She’s waking up. Vital signs returning to normal.”
  
  I sit up and spit blood out of my mouth. “Phekk, I bit my tongue.”
  
  Wiggin announces, “In case anyone’s interested, the Undine ships are moving out. They’re leaving.”
  
  “Good, maybe—AARGH!”
  
  WE WILL COME. WE WILL FIGHT.
  
  I fall back down again. “Tess, permission to pass out again?”
  

  ---

  
  I wake up. Unfamiliar ceiling. It’s a sickbay, but not the one on the Bajor. A female Paradan in a Starfleet uniform walks over to me. “Captain, you are awake.”
  
  “Who are you? Where am I?”
  
  “I am Dr. Capadan, chief medical officer of Deep Space 9. You are in the starbase hospital. You have been asleep for two days. Minor neurological damage.”
  
  I turn to my left. Gaarra is in the bed next to mine. He’s got an IV in his arm and bandages underneath his hospital gown. But he’s alive, and he’s awake. “Hey,” he says, smiling at me.
  
  “Hey, yourself.” I reach out and take his hand.
  
  “Ow.”
  
  “You okay?”
  
  “Back’s still a little tender. And … I’m not breathing so good. New lungs.”
  
  Tess, Captain Kurland, and Professor Dukat walk in and we quickly let go of each other’s hands. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Kanril,” Kurland says.
  
  “How did we get back?”
  
  “Bynam’s people got the deflector fixed and opened us a hole back to realspace. We came out in the Idran system and just came home through the wormhole.”
  
  “Did you ever find out who set that bomb?”
  
  “It was Ameno Idras, one of the engineers from the Bajoran Center for Science,” Kurland answers.
  
  “The guy who dropped that phase coupler before we started the tests?” Gaarra asks.
  
  Tess shrugs. “I guess; I wasn’t there. Anyway, Dul’krah pretty much just glared at him for ten seconds or so and he couldn’t confess fast enough. It was beautiful, you could’ve sold tickets. Militia raided his house when we got back and apparently he’s a Pah-Wraith cultist. And it doesn’t hurt that his mother was r*ped and murdered by a Cardassian dalin during the Occupation.”
  
  “Trying to frame the professor?” I infer.
  
  The Cardassian woman nods sadly. “Does it ever end? This cycle of violence? We kill you, you kill us, and nobody wins.”
  
  “You have no idea how appropriate that remark is,” I say, and look to Kurland. “Captain, any word on Undine activity?”
  
  He gives me a confused look. “All quiet, last I heard. Latest flash from the DJC says the Undine haven’t made any moves at all in the last couple of days. Analysts think they’re trying to regroup for another push.”
  
  “Maybe. Or maybe I managed to do some good when we were in fluidic space.”
  
  “What are you talking about, Captain?” Gaarra asks.
  
  I start laughing. “I yelled at them and they went away.”
  
  “The Undine?” Kurland asks. “Captain, I think you just signed yourself up for an appointment with the station counselor.”
  
  “Respectfully, sir,” Tess says, “I think you mean Starfleet Intelligence. I don’t think she’s joking.”
  
  Kurland snorts. “Hell, with my luck, she is telling the truth.” Gaarra laughs at this, then starts coughing.
  
  “All right,” Dr. Capadan says, “I must insist, the captain and Commander Reshek need to rest, and I still have a few tests to run.”
  
  “Always do as the doctor orders,” Dukat remarks. “Come on, I’m buying.” The three of them file out and Capadan fiddles with a few settings on the console on Gaarra’s headboard, then leaves.
  
  I look over at him. Most of his beard is stubble, either burned off in the explosion or shaved when they were working on him. It’ll take weeks to grow back. But he’s smiling. “Captain, I—”
  
  “Gaarra, when I heard you were injured, I nearly got myself removed from command trying to come see you.”
  
  “Well, you’re seeing me now.”
  
  “Yes. Yes, I am.” I take his hand again, running my thumb over the calluses. “And I didn’t care. Tess would’ve had me thrown out of the service, and I didn’t care. I had to force myself to care. And now, I don’t have to care anymore. We’re out of danger, and we’re alone and—and I love you, is what I’m trying to say.”
  
  He shifts in the bed and rolls up on his side. “I know. I love you, too.” He brings my hand up to his mouth and kisses it. “All I can do for now. We’ll worry about Tess after my back heals and I can breathe again.”
  
  “Sounds good to me.”
  

  THE END

  ---

  
  Author's Note: Part of the genesis of this chapter came out of something worffan said one of those times the "Janeway's a traitor" argument came up, coupled with my annoyance with the brain-hurtingly stupid actions of the Undine in the storyline. Worffan noted on the Terradome thing that the mere fact that the Undine have factions makes them more human than the Borg. That got me thinking about how these factions might be distinguishable visually. They're not humanoid, so why would they see in the normal humanoid visual spectrum? And I'd already established that the usual communications officer on the Bajor was a Saurian, which are reptiles, which means they can see part of the ultraviolet spectrum (I checked).
  
  And then we get to where this other group of Undine might prefer a straight fight instead of all this sneaking around. Sneaking is for weaklings, and we know the Undine hate the weak, et voila.
  
  On a completely different topic, Eleya's "unfamiliar ceiling" comment was meant as an Evangelion reference. I've also been trying to write Dul'krah a little bit like Teal'c since I created him, and that plus this storyline meant I got an opportunity to use Teal'c's "interrogation by death glare" technique.

  "Great War! / And I cannot take more! / Great tour! / I keep on marching on / I play the great score / There will be no encore / Great War! / The War to End All Wars"
  — Sabaton, "Great War"
  

  

  
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