ULC Entry 32 Prompt: "New Year, New Changes"

takeshi6 · February 2017

Hello, everyone, and welcome to the thirty-second Unofficial Literary Challenge!!

We have some pretty fun prompts for you, this time:

Prompt 1: Election Year by StarSword C

Federation presidential elections take place every six years (barring delays due to national crises), meaning President Aennik Okeg's third term is coming to an end. Is he running for a fourth term or stepping down? Who else is running, and what issues are important in the campaign: entanglements in the Delta Quadrant, the refugee crisis at home, economic chaos from the Iconian War? And does your captain prefer any particular candidate?

Prompt 2: Crossover by Aten66

Star Trek has always been one of the go to realities for the strange and unnatural. From Mutants, to Ringslingers, to the odd Blue Box, the Federation and its allies have seen their fair share of strangeness. Now, in your own (non-canon if you prefer) spinoff, your Captain has found their own oddity. Whether They cross over, or your Captain does, this is going to be one strange adventure!

Prompt 3: Why are there two of me by damzelltrill

Some how another you has been created; be it a clone made when your DNA was introduced to a squichy critter and You2 will only live a few days, or be it via a transporter malfunction that either splits out part of your personality or just copies you perfectly. Write a story about how your captain and their crew deal with the mess.

As usual, no NSFW content.

The discussion thread is here.

The LC Submission thread is here

Index of previous ULCs:

Enjoy!!

aten66 · February 2017

Why Were There Two of Me?

Last Time on Star Trek Online...

The white was all consuming, as space, time, and nothingness collide, tearing apart the sphere, the colorful energy drained from the power source, and overpowered by the destructive forces held back by the will of a dead god, now consuming Trelane and the many things imprisoned within. Drake watched as Ouroboros took the force full on, laughing all the way, until it hit the energy field surrounding Drake. A bolt of rainbow light struck through, hitting Drake and sending searing pain through his left eye, blinding him. His world was blurring, his vision fading, darkness full of the laughter ringing in his ears.

And once more, the white consumed him.

//

Nilona is standing by the transporter controls, with Gregs standing nearby, as the holographic emitter on the transporter pad sits idle. "Transfer complete, information has been backed up from my cortical node into the emitter," Nilona states, unhooking a thin cord from her implants which retracts, and nods towards Gregs, "Initiate transporter, isolate buffer patterns, separate Drake from the emitter, and materialize; it's simple." Nodding unconvinced, Gregs initiates his orders, while Nilona begins the process. "Initiating transport- now!" Nilona says, as the beams shimmer and disappear, "Isolating patterns- strengthening integrity of buffer- temporal core backup transporter file found and now active, initiating sync- there, reinitializing transport!" Suddenly the rainbow hue of the transporter begins, until it flickers.

"Cohesion is failing, temporal synchronization is in flux; the pattern is bouncing between two separate signal!" Gregs announces from his console, "Compensating, strengthening signal and separating the redundant pattern, now rerouting- we're good!" The transporter signal strengthens and Drake appears on the pad, falling to the ground as he laughs in relief at seeing Nilona and Gregs in front of him.

"You- you brought me back!" he says wearily, before falling to the ground, now unconcious. Running to his prone form, Nilona checks his vitals, and sees a scar marring his face.

"Drake..." she says sympathetically, "What happened to you?" Suddenly she heard a groan from behind.

"Oh furies be damned..." the new voice says, echoing, "What manner of minster did Lord Recluse hit me with?" The holographic form of a blonde man with green eyes is sitting on the transporter pad, rubbing his head in pain. Nilona's eyes open wide in shock, as Gregs states what everyone is thinking.

"Drake?" Gregs asks, the holographic man looking up, "What the &#%$?"

/ Now /

U.S.S. Highwaymen
Risa System

"So your telling me Paragon has been gone for four centuries?" blonde Drake asks, "What about the Menders, Twighlight's Son, Ramiel, Silos for- wait Silos, I remember...did we die?" Brunette Drake looks at the holographic copy, and sighs. He grabs for something around his neck and pulls out the smallest shard of crystal, almost like a small bead, left within a transparent aluminum bauble.

"I was sent by Mender Lazarus to stop an alien invasion at its source, someone had meddled with time and managed to bring extra-dimensional creatures we call, ' Undine' into our universe, where they did not belong," Drake says, "In the process of reversing the damage, I was left for dead in a pocket of time and space very much like Ouroboros... so much so, that I realized it was Ouroborean technology that had formed the pocket dimension I had found myself stranded in." Drake clutches onto the bauble tightly, relieving the memories of that time.

"We had routed the aliens, causing a paradox that kept us from returning home, since we had had no reason to go in the first place," he continues, "There I stumbled upon a patchwork world made of bits and pieces of various realities that had access to time travel or dimensional travel; the first of which was a seemingly ordinary housing community known as Eastwood Gorge Estates, in the middle of a desert, which I found out was run by a malevolent AI that replaced the world's dissidents with biological androids that mimicked their predecessors to a fault."

"There I met a man, a clockmaker who was kept human because he fixed them if they managed to get damaged, the only human in a town of corpses that didn't even know they were dead," Drake continues, "In the end, I found out the man was vitally important to our history, and that I had been drawn there by time itself to prevent a grave paradox from occurring, and with his help, manage to get a device capable of returning home; the only catch being only one of us could go home, leaving the other stranded."

"We sent him home, and in the process killed our Crystal for the first time," Drake says, replacing the pendant, "We sacrificed our only way home to send Neme- to send Gerhardt Eisenstadt home and back on the right track; he had looked too deep into time and got lost within a temporal sinkhole, we gave him the power to break out." Blonde Drake nods, like pieces of his memories were starting to clear up.

"Drake?" Gregs asks, as both turn to look at him, "Our Drake, why is it that he isn't... you?" Blonde Drake is confused, but brunette Drake seems troubled.

"I don't know, perhaps it's due to the the fact crossing over my own timeline caused a glitch, or that the crystals temporal properties caused you to lock onto both my past and present forms," Drake says, "There's not enough data to correlate why or how, but now we have two 'Drake's', one physical, one digital."

"You're right, I need a new name," blonde Drake says now, interrupting the older Drake, "If we're both going to be here, I can't be Drake, or Drastorm... I guess Nate will work for now." Drake nods, and looks to Nilona and Gregs. "So, what do we do now?" Nate asks, "Do I go on traveling with you; I mean, it may be just a little bit awkward..." Nilona laughs, causing the tension to lessen.

"I don't know," Drake states plainly, looking towards Nate, "There might be some hesitance by Starfleet or DTI to let the two of us remain together, and I know I can't leave you to wander the Stars in a shuttle, let alone let you loose on the Earth of this era..."

"I'll have you," Gregs pipes up, "Starfleet may need you to take some courses to check out your abilities, but if you are still the Drake who I went to the academy with, you probably can pass any test they might throw your way." Nate looks to Drake, who looks contemplative but reluctantly nods in agreement.

"It will take some finesse, but I think we can make it work," Drake says, "You can probably fill in as their official Emergency Engineering Hologram, you can more than likely download the specs to your memory, and you can be transferred from to ship to ship as long as you have a mobile emitter." Nate jumps for joy at this, and hugs both Drake and Gregs.

"Thanks for he chance," Nate says, "I know you won't regret it." Nate then looks contemplative for a moment, turning to Drake. "Whatever happened to the temporal sinkhole?" Nate asks, "How did we get out?" Drake nods and turns to point at Gregs.

"This guy, almost singlehandedly, managed to overthrow a dictator by revealing the cost to their continued existence, and that they were being played like the strings of a guitar," he continues, "Not only that, but he did it with the help of people who had caused him great pain on accident, and using their ship, they managed to cut out the cancer on time that was Trelane, while I was busy frying our crystal for the second and last time, by harnessing the last bits of incarnate power that tied us to Primal Earth; in effect ending Trelane's threat to our corner of the multiverse." Drake clasped the blonde holograms semi-solid form on the back, smiling.

"Now it's as if Trelane never existed, and without his threat to our universe or any of his machinations in play, time has molded itself back onto its true path," Drake continues, "For example Apollo was the last 'God' Starfleet has had any encounter with originating from Pollux IV, Gregs' ship has no records of ever coming across Nibiru, Typhon, or any other 'Gods', TIC Starfleet information regarding the 'Cult of Ophidian' is non-existent, and so on and so forth... Gregs never even went crazy in this reality, nor did he spend a stint in Elba II as a result." Gregs smiles as he goes to Nate's other side and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"And Zinuzee and I got together finally, even earlier than we actually did because of that stint in Elba II," Gregs says happily, "Heck, with the temporal war drawing to a close with events leaning in our favor, we may even get to do some exploring!" Nate smiles back at him and Drake. "Does anyone remember when we used to be Explorers?" Gregs asks, "Who knows, we might uncover some centuries old mystery right in our own backyard, and I might even keep my ship longer than a few months ta' boot!"

/ 2411 /

Every good Captain would go down with their ship, and so would Gregs Son'aire. It was then that Gregs felt the hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Nate, his emitter ripped open and now loose locator beacon being pinned to his shoulder pad. "It was an honor, sir," Nate says, before pressing the button, "But you have two beautiful daughters to live for now sir, so live long...". The rainbow light of the transporter obscures the rest of Drake's sentence.

The Titanite then lit up the night sky from the view of Izar's countryside, where Gregs had found himself in the embrace of his five month pregnant wife. The ship had self destructed in orbit, to protect the people of Izar from the fate that had awaited them.

hawku001x · February 2017

Captain Deloss sat at the Bridge of the I.K.S. Masamune as it trekked through space, carelessly and haphazardly on nothing but whims and fancy and lollipops and dreams.

"Are we actually going in any specific direction, or are our movements based on the positioning of gagh all over the helm?" the Gorn and Commanding officer Deloss asked.

Grough scavenged his own scaly Gorn hands over the mess, trying to grab one of the squiggly worms as best as he could. "Hey, I just got into these things! It's forced, but we all find our ways to assimilate into obnoxious Klingon culture."

"It is the repulsiveness of moving food we admire. We actually wouldn't even touch gagh if not for that," added Ronin, an old Klingon and the tactical officer.

Deloss grasped his head. "Why can't we be more concerned about things that matter? I feel as if we are wasting precious ship resources on cultivating targ manure! I don't even know what it's used for?? We spent an entire month stock piling it in our cargo bay???"

BLAM! Suddenly the Masamune slammed its nose into a rogue asteroid. The object appeared to be unaffected by the impact.

"Ugh. Did anyone get the number of that asteroid?" Deloss quipped, hilariously. "Hahaha. Seriously, though, anyone who didn't laugh is being transferred."

Then Ronin looked up from his console. "Sir, I'm detecting a Federation escape pod latched onto the side! There are survivors on it!!"

"Calm down Ronin. It's always drama with you. The Federation, huh? They're perpetually concerned about bigger issues. Beam them directly to the Bridge," Deloss ordered before a group of injured people appeared before him. "Ew! Beam them back. No, wait. Beam them to Sickbay to be medically adjusted and such. Seems like that's a thing. Is that a thing? It probably is."

A Human and Captain stood up. "Wait. You must set course for my ship the Crucial and destroy it. My name is Menrow."

"You dare give me orders, Human!" Deloss argued. "Anyway, now that the hostile tone is out of the way, what happened to you?"

Menrow gestured to his people. "We were escorting the President, here, home from Casperia Prime when our ship came under attack by an alien life-draining entity. Systems went down and my crew was forced to evacuate, but we fear it may strike again."

"That sounds like a big issue," Deloss surmised. "Perhaps it warrants a continued perusal."

The other Captain shrugged. "I'd like to think so."

"Quiet, Human! You forfeit your right to any form of dignity and more of my compensation-by-loud-shouting! Also, did you know Kirk? He's just soooo huggable."

---

Later, the Masamune dropped warp before the near-completely ruined, but still in-tact, Intrepid-class U.S.S. Crucial. Deloss, Menrow, Okeg, Ronin and Thunk beamed onboard aiming rifles.

"Seriously, Deloss? We were supposed to destroy this thing!" argued Menrow. "I've had so many alien relations here that it's just ugh now. Even this hallway. Just last week."

Deloss rolled his Gorn eyes as limited as he could. "Come on, man. That's just wasteful. In the Klingon Defense Force, we learn to salvage what we have. We're not all as rich and entitled as you Federation yuppies with your yacht ships and your space martinis."

"And what about the President?? I specifically told you not to put him in a militaristic situation," Menrow continued. "The government just likes to talk about those things, not actually have anything to do with them."

The Gorn scoffed. "Honestly, I stopped listening to you after you started dictating how my crew should tug at their uniforms more. Your President is a grown man who can do whatever he wants and listen to as much rock and roll music as is required."

"Ugh. I need this distraction so badly," Okeg said. "It's election year again and I have to decide whether I want to run or drop out of the whole politics thing for another person— probably a man— to take over and rule with an iron fist. It's usually the other party that takes the next Presidency, and they're puppy-jostling jerks. Like, real life puppies in front of your face when they do it sort of thing."

Deloss widened his eyes. "You have a chance at making a difference and you're on the fence??"

"Oh yeah. You just don't know the pressures of being a political figure," Okeg said. "You think it's all bowling in the basement, uniting minority groups and hilarious sketches with a holographic Keegan Michael-Key. Instead, you're constantly defending provable climate science and martial arts fighting birther movementers. It's madness!"

Ronin added, "Not to mention that you've been President for 18 years. Some countries on early 21st century Earth could have sorely benefited from those kinds of margins." He noticed everyone suddenly looking at him with detached expressions. "I once did a study when I was looking to compare J'mpok with other worst political leaders in Milky Way history."

"Anyway, I think you're disregarding an important juxtaposition for continued change and activism for things that really matter," Deloss said. "Like how we ignored the approach of these giant floating fragments."

Before the group, in the corridors, were several broken and ready-to-attack hovering shards appearing to be from a crystalline entity.

"So, you were taken down by a Large Crystalline Fragment, crippling your ship," surmised Thunk. "Then these baby fragments were spawned to hunt your crew down one by one."

Menrow continued, "Which is why we should destroy this filthy, ineffective Delta Quadrant-loving ship. These things will suck the life out of us and are probably into the gel packs! Still don't know how they work, but they're there."

"Fool; the Defense Force has a hunt-first protocol. Besides, you can make change without completely wiping the slate and starting over," explained Deloss as he aimed his disruptor rifle and fired. "If there were a health care system in place but some fool wanted to erase it with whatever he fancied, for example. Now, let us murder by way of educational correlation!"

The others, including Okeg, followed suit and opened fire upon the shards, following a trail throughout the ship. Separating, the group finally reconvened in Main Engineering.

---

In Engineering, the group found the main Crystalline Shard, merged-in with the warp core, feeding off its energy.

"Fine," conceded Menrow. "Perhaps a salvageable methodology is a more rational approach. But it's more work, for what, continuity? Some people reboot entire realities for less."

SKKKK!!! The entity surrounding the warp core screeched. It was angry and intending to consume any and everything it could get its reach on for the destruction of its shards. The group opened fire upon it, shattering its pieces all over the place.

"Oh, Klingon-bollocks," Deloss said, observing the fractured warp core. "This ship will never reach near-perfect operational status again. Perhaps I was wrong about everything. How can we protect ourselves without radical ship-exploding change? I'd even ban an entire group based on their religion if it meant I was right."

The Human clutched his face in regret of his now ruined ship. "Dammit!"

"No, this is a good thing," Okeg countered the two Captains. "Change, albeit in the form of full or partial effect is worth it if it means saving lives and maintaining values. I believe I've made my decision on whether I will run again or not."

Ronin turned to him. "You mean this crystal hunt helped you instead of your mind-off vacation at Casperia Prime? Perhaps there is some Klingon in your Federation after all."

"Don't forget Gorn. He's got Gorn in him too, somehow. Don't ask what, specifically. It's just there," Deloss added, quickly and awkwardly. "So, yeah."

He then turned to Menrow.

"Now, Captain," Deloss continued. "Since the Iconians made us allies for some reason, I shall leave you and your President to your ship, so you may find your other escape pods and return him home. We shall be transporting a considerable bulk of our much-sought-after targ manure as a gesture of honorable kinship and reflection of the themes we explored here today."

The other Captain retracted in disgust. "What? Don't do tha—"

"Deloss to Masamune! Transport: Gift Protocol Delta-Janeway-Serve-Up!" the Gorn announced after slapping his communicator. Seconds later, the Crucial was graced with their generosity. He turned back to the Human. "You're welcome."

damzelltrill · February 2017

Well of course I'm gonna write something for my own prompt.

~*~

Why are there two of me?

Captain's log supplemental;

We've been called away from border patrol along what used to be the neutral zone with a new mission; we're to meet up with a fast courier shuttle and go to the Agrama system. Apparently Empress Sela wants to have a conference regarding deescalating the tensions between the Federation, Romulan Republic, the Klingons, and her Empire. Frankly after the TRIBBLE she tried to pull at the Khitomer conference, I don't trust her. They say the Romulans have improved over the years, and maybe the Romulan Republic is better then the Empire was, but I'm gonna wait and see.

Despite my protests I am not a diplomat we where still assigned to this farce, but I was told I'm just there to be seen and not heard as a body guard for what ever ambassador gets sent. I really hope they don't send that... idiot isn't a strong enough word, but the computer keeps censoring me. Damn uppity computer, they never used to talk back like this... Anyhow I hope I'm not stuck escorting the ambassador that had been at Khitomer. If I am stuck dealing with him, I am seriously tempted to...

“Captain, the shuttle from Starbase 234 is in range and hailing us.” Na'tal sh'Narra's tactical officer said cutting off the Andorian captain's dictation.

“On screen then, Mr Reed.” she said as she stood and tugged at the zipper of the barely there Terran version of the Jupiter uniform to try and get a little more coverage of her chest. She envied her tactical officer; being a security hologram meant that he always wore the blue-black red striped MACO armor. Ever since she had taken command of the commandeered Terran Armitage carrier a few months ago, they had been plagued by glitches in the system. The most common being a rejection of Federation uniform patterns, which caused the replicators to only produce the more scanty versions favored in the parallel universe.

Nat barely refrained from cursing when she saw the mustachioed Jiro Sugihara in his spiffy white uniform. “Captain, I am ready to... Oooh myyy...” he said eyes dropping to Nat's Blue Valley.

Mr Reed interpreted the twitching of his captain's antenna, and the hand straying to where she usually carried her combat ax, as an order to alter the angle of the bridge cam. Sugihara lost his glazed look as Nat's cleavage disappeared from his screen. “Stand by Ambassador, we'll have you over here in just a moment.” Nat said with fake cheer. As soon as the screen returned to the star field she slapped her com badge hard. “Engineering, get someone to the core and reload the uniform patterns. And make sure they stay loaded.” she ordered in a soft, cold voice.

“Aye captain.” came the exasperated voice of Abmis, her Caitian chief engineer.

“And someone find me a clean dress uniform from this dimension in my size. No, never mind I'll just wear my retro dress uniform to this disaster in the making.”

~*~

“... I've never seen anyone wear this metal before.” Sugihara observed as he, Nat, and the rest of the security detail waited to be beamed down to the conference site, the Ambassador's index finger uncomfortably close to touching the swell of her chest under medal cluster.

“No, you wouldn't have. They are only awarded posthumously. As I 'came back from the dead' a century and a half after they issued it, I can wear it.” Nat said stiffly, wanting to bat his hand away, or better yet take off the offending body part. Though she was hard pressed to describe which of Sugi's parts offended her more; his wandering eyes, his flapping tongue, or, the suspected cause of all her grief, his reproductive organs. /I swear he got into diplomacy just to try and break Kirk's record of alien species he's had relations with. And he must have friends in high places to keep his incompetent butt in the post./ she thought as her transporter chief signaled that the system on the Ice Queen and the Romulan system had synced up and they where ready to transport.

After touching the small plaque honoring Lor'Vela, the 'queen the ship honored, Nat stepped onto the platform and ordered “Energize.”

~*~

Nat woke to pain. Her throat felt like she had been screaming for days, and her arms and legs felt burned. Willing her eyes open she took stock of her body and surroundings. The dress uniform that had somehow survived the Trion being shot out from under the closet it had been stored in was now tattered ruins, parts of it fused to her by burned and twisted lumps that seemed to be an ugly melding of her body and the fabric. She had seen nodes and burns like that once before and knew they came from a transporter malfunctions, though a relatively minor one provided that the victim got proper care quickly.

Which based on the fact she was in what looked like a holding cell was not likely to be coming that quickly.

“I suppose it beats waking up naked and strapped to something.” Nat rasped out just to hear something other then the air exchange and the sub sonic vibrations of ship engines.

“You got that right, captain.” came an unexpected reply, which cause Nat to sit up more quickly then ws comfortable, causing something on her back to rip open and begin bleeding.

“Ensign...” Nat paused fumbling with the name that was on the tip of her tongue.

“Private Janeway, ma'am. Jerome Janeway, MACO baker squad. No relation to the Admiral.” came the voice of one of the security detail that had beamed down with her. “I woke up on the table while they where patching me up. So they want us alive for now.”

“My mistake private. Any idea who wants us alive?” Nat asked as she used the wall to pull herself to her feet.

“The ones who worked on me looked like they were Reman.” Jerome paused for a moment then continued. “But why would the Reman snatch us...”

“I can think of a few past the obvious of get as much information out of us as possible.” Nat replied as she hobbled to the front of her cell, getting her face as close to the field as she dared to get a look at their prison. “How many of us are there?”

“Of the team that beamed down; you, me, and the Ambassador.”

“Figures, the man is a cockroach.”

“And there are other beings also being held. They dragged me through a few other holding blocks before dumping me here after my surgery.”

“Mmm, ok. Well...” hearing a hatch being unlocked Nat fell silent as the sound of several voices shouting and pleading could now be heard along with a heavy, ringing tread along the bare metal deck plating.

“Throw him in that cell.” A gruff voice ordered, followed by the sound of flesh hitting a wall. A moment after Nat felt a force field come on line through her antenna. A few seconds after that the heavy tread came her way and a gray skinned being with red eyes stopped before her cell.

“So you are the one Daniels chose to be his faction's champion?” the Na'kuhl sneered as he clasped his hands behind his back. “I am hardly impressed. You managed to escape me at Caleb IV, but that was only because of Daniel's intervention. Well he isn't going to be coming for you, as I plan on erasing you from the time line. You can't rescue those who never existed.” he pulled an ugly looking weapon from his hip holster. “This weapon is derived from the very temporal weapon that your Federation helped build. And with it I can surgically remove the beings I want.”

“What temporal weapon? And who are you?” Nat asked confused.

“Ah, that's right, you haven't played out that event yet...” her captor mused stroking his chin with his free hand. “I am not surprised Daniels hasn't informed you of the whole story. Very well, if you would come with me, we can get your treated for your injuries, and we can talk about the lies you have been operating under.” he looked over his shoulder, out of Nat's line of sight and ordered. “See that her people are moved to the spare cabin and are fed.”

~*~

“... and that is why the Accords can't stand.” Commander Kox said as he waved around a glass of wine as he leaned back in his chair across from from where Nat was seated, a guard lurking behind her least she try anything.

“Ehin... Look, I have no love of Daniel's myself, but what you are endorsing is just.... Chaos! I'd rather have some semi organized body keeping an eye one things rather then anarchy.” Nat replied as she leaned forward slightly.

Kox let out a sigh as he set his wine glass to one side. “I was afraid you where going to say that. I had hoped you would join my plan willingly, but it seems we have to do this the hard way.” He snapped his fingers and a heavy hand clamped on Nat's shoulder before she could move more then an inch. “Take her to the chamber and see that she is conditioned.”

~*~

“What are you doing?” Jiro asked as he watched the young man slide his hands along the plates that made up the side of his cell.

“Trying to figure out a way to escape.” Jerome replied, grateful that he had taken so many extra engineering classes while at the Academy. Feeling a vibration under his palm he smiled thinly as he leaned closer, a bit of metal he had worked free from his cot in his hand. Finding a seam he worked his makeshift tool in and began to work it around the panel.

“So, Ambassador, are you really as incompetent as you seem, or is someone directing your actions?” Jerome asked. “Cause if you're being manipulated, I'm sure someone can help you get out from under their thumb. And if you're just incompetent... how the h*ll do you still have a job?”

“Because that is the way my bosses want me to act.” the Asian man said with a smirk in his voice. “They want me to sow confusion and disharmony when it is best for the Federation. And they have enough sway in the government to keep me in my position.”

Jerome paused as the panel he was working on popped free if the wall, considering what the Ambassador had just said. The hairs on the back of his neck where at attention, and he looked up slowly to see the Ambassador standing outside his cell. “How...?”

“Because I am special, and you are not.” the man replied as he deactivated Jerome's cell. “Now, we need to get your captain back and get away from these beings.”

“Yeah, yeah you're right...” Jerome said as he stepped out. “Let's find some weapons and kick some butt.”

damzelltrill · April 2017

Why are there two of me? Part 2

sorry it took so long to post this, I kept forgetting to throw it on a jump drive.
~*~

“How about we start with some allies?” Jiro suggested as he opened the hatch to the next compartment revealing several more cells which held several beings. Jerome moved to the first and was surprised to find a relatively small female Hirogian sitting in the corner with her hands bound in such a way that she couldn't use her fingers.

“It's me you wanna talk to.” a woman stated from behind Jerome. “This is my ship after all.”

“And who are you?” Jerome asked as he eyed the Reman woman who, while battered just this short of Hell, still held a devious gleam in her eye.

“Captain T'Vala of the Reman Cargo Vessel Goonie Bird.”

~*~

Nat struggled against the shackles that held her arms and legs tight, keeping her spread eagle and upright at the center of a ringed device reminiscent of one of the more archaic exorcise machines made by Humans that had been in the Trion's gym. The Na'kuhl had stripped her of her uniform before closing the restraints, and she alternated shivering and sweating as the machine alternated the temperature at random. It also dazzled her eyes with lights, bombarded her with sounds and energies so below and above Andorian senses that she felt them vibrating her bones more then sensed them with her eyes and antenna. She could feel something worming it's way into her head, and she did everything she could to fight it, but everything bombarding her was wearing her resolve down, and she worried she was loosing the fight for her free will.

Abruptly the lights snapped off and the machine ground to a halt, allowing Nat to slump against the cuff holding her. She could almost make out the conversation going on behind her, and one of the two (or more?) Na'kuhl she hadn't been aware had been observing the session forced open the door and exited the room.

“It seems you are getting a... I believe the term is breather.” Kox said in her ear, his uniform brushing lightly against her bare back, prompting Nat to try and shove him off her with little success. Her struggle prompted a cruel chuckle form the bat faced alien. “Still feisty? I'm surprised. Most don't even last half as long as you've been in.”

Nat really wanted to have some kind of witty comeback, Kirk would have she was sure, but at the moment her throat was just to raw from screaming for anything to come out as intelligible. Her antenna cocked as she felt a change in the em spectrum, and a small smile flickered across her lips just before two phaser beams shot into the room. Kox ducked around her, using her as an Andorian shield while the other Bat face returned fire.

“Captain, if you're there call out!” Jerome yelled from the corridor, glancing over at the Ambassador who was proving to be surprisingly competent with a phaser. Jiro didn't even flinch as several plasma packets zipped dangerously close to his face.

“What kept you?” Nat forced out, just before Kox slammed his fist into her torso, driving the breath from her lungs.

“Come any closer and she's dead.” Kox countered as he reached up to grab one of Nat's antenna, causing her to stiffen up at the pain that shot through her body. His minion dropped from a phaser blast to the chest, and lay limp across the door frame

“I'm afraid I'm closer then you think, and you won't have the chance.” Jiro said from behind Kox, the muzzle of his phaser to the Na'kulh's head. “Free her. Carefully now. I'd hate to splatter your brains all over the captain.”

Nodding Kox released his grip on Nat and touched a button on the device. The shackles chunked open and Jiro had to lunge forward to catch her before she hit the deck. With the phaser away from his head Knox hit a button on his communicator triggering a transporter to whisk him away.

“I have you Captain.” Jiro said as he eased her to the ground and then draped his uniform jacket over her.

“Ambassador? How the h-ll did you get in here?” Jerome asked as he slid rough the door, swinging left and right to clear it as he'd been taught.

“Again, I got in here because I'm special and you are not. Now, Captain, if you would be so kind as not to object and hurt me, I am going to pick you up and carry you to this ship's infirmary. Such as it is.” Jiro said.

“If your hands wander, I will cut them off later.” Nat feebly threatened as Jiro knelt and bundled her up in his arms. Both Nat and Jerome where surprised at how strong the man was as he had no trouble with her weight as they made their way through the ship's corridors.

“The Ambassador managed to get loose and we struck a deal with the ship's real crew...” Jerome explained as they walked. “Those... aliens shut them out of the voice commands, but Captain T'Vala and her people had back-doors that let them retake the ship.”

“Remind me to do the same with the Queen when we get back.” Nat ordered mildly as they reached the command pod of the ship. A mixed bag of weapons came up as they stepped in, only to relax when the motley collection of free traders relaxed.

“Ambassador, Captain, private.” a willowy Reman woman said with a nod to the trio. “Glad to see you're not worse for wear Captain. Help yourselves to the replicators. We'll be underway in a few moments, once Jayne is sure we haven't been mucked with. And Ambassador, I'mm not sure why we aren't headed for the nearest Republic planet, but I have the message you wanted send ready and encoded.”

“Thank you Captain T'Vala.” Jiro said with a slight bow as he settled into an auxiliary station's seat.

“I's a squad medic Captain.” Jerome said. “They told me where the sick bay was, you can get some clothing from that replicator...”

“That would be appreciated.” Nat said with a sigh.

“Take my bunk. You look like you need it.” T'Vala added over her shoulder.

~*~

Nat came awake with a start, grabbing the hand that was on her shoulder on reflex. “Ow, ow! Captain, let up! It's private Janeway!”

“Gah... sorry private.” Nat groaned as she opened her eyes, finding she'd been tucked in under a blanket, a pillow slipped behind her head.

“Ma'am, You didn't even make it out of sick bay. Any way, we're being hailed. Starfleet freq, though I don't recognize the encoding they're using...”

Nat nodded as she rubbed her eyes and then ran a hand through her mussed hair, making a note to get it trimmed soonish.

“Clothing ma'am.”

“I... oh, thanks private.” Nat said as Jerome handed her a bundle of clothing.

“I'm afraid I wasn't sure what you'd prefer of off duty wear....”

“So long as it isn't something only an Orion would wear.” Nat said wrinkling her nose as she shook out the TRIBBLE. Her eyebrows went up at the undergarments.

“I... uh....” Jerome's face flushed in a blush as he tried to stammer out an explanation on why the scraps of cloth looked like something an Orion would wear rather then the more conservitive Starfleet issue.

“Well at least I won't be going commando.” Nat muttered as she pulled the garments under the blanket and began to pull them on under the cover. She was surprised the private seemed so bashful and uncomfortable with the female-ish body. From the locker rooms at the Academy she knew her Andorian body had several anatomical differences from a human female's body, but none that where that alien. Likely it was because she was his commanding officer.

Her musings where cut off as Jerome handed her another bundle. “Here you go M'am.”

“Should I be worried about how you figured out my size while I was asleep?” Nat asked as stood and pulled on a drab blue garment that reminded her of the jump suits used by the Pre-Federation Starfleet.

“My father's a tailor who prefers to use the old methods instead of modern measuring methods. His eye's better then mine, but I can usually estimate a person's size withing an inch or so.” Jerome said clearly embarrassed.

“Huh. Maybe I need to swing through and have him work on my uniforms. They never hang right on me...”

“I hadn't noticed.”

“Lair.” Nat snorted as she finished dressing. “Let's get to the bridge.”

~*~

“Ship decloaking.” T'Vala said as the star field in the view screen rippled and warped revealing a dark painted vessel that made Nat think of the Steam Runner class, based on what little she could see of it.

“This is NX-699141 Daniel Wheeler. Agent, we have received your emergency beacon, and before we let you board, we need a conformation code.” Jiro rolled his eyes and rattled off a series of numbers, and words from several languages. “Code confirmed. You may dock at the port airlock. Your party only will cross over through the lock and will wait for a security escort.”

“Understood Wheeler..” Jiro said as T'Vala guided the freighter along side the escort.

A few minutes later the Federation trio where in a secured conference room with several faceless dark armored guards standing close at hand. Jerome eyed the armor, noting that there where no unit patches or rank markers on any of them. He also noted that it was not the MACO armor he was used to seeing, but the OMEGA armor. He was pretty sure if he tried anything he'd be dead in seconds. He glanced over at his captain who was being checked over by a female hologram what occasionally flickered like her emitters weren't quite tuned correctly.

“They are all a little dehydrated, but they are healthy enough for an interview commander.” the medic-gram said into a wall mounted intercom before fading from sight. The commander must have been waiting just outside the hatch as the door slid open and a buzz cut human with an ugly scar stepped inside.

Jiro nodded slowly. “Drake.”

“Jiro. Imagine my surprise when I get your distress signal when I talked to you only the day before...”

Jiro's eyebrows went up and Jerome could see calculations running in the diplomat's eyes, but it was Nat who arrived there first. “We where copied somehow.”

“Indeed. Most likely by way of the transporter. It's rare, but we've seen it before.” Drake said with a nod. “So the question is, what are we gonna do with you two?”

“Two, sir?” Jerome asked glancing from Nat to Jiro.

“Yes, the two of you as Jiro already has a place in this organization, though we may need to do a little facial and possibly racial work before he can go back out in the field.”

“I'm not working for you.” Nat stated as she drew herself upright. “I already was conscripted...”

“Yes, yes, we're aware that Captain Na'tal sh'Narra has had contact with time travelers and is involved in the so called Temporal Cold War.” Drake interrupted.

“I AM Captain Na'tal Sh'Narra!” the Andorian woman said through tight pressed lips.

“No, Captain Na'tal sh'Narra is still in command of her ship and is currently engaged in the defense of Vulcan which is being targeted with a Thalaron weapon. Our projections predict that the Ice Queen will be destroyed with all hands due to her pulling off a brave by foolish move that saves the day.” The way Drake said it had Nat grinding her teeth before she lunged for his throat. The man flickered and she passed right through him. “Temper temper.”

“You smug TRIBBLE. Sitting there, or not, like there's no damn threat...”

“Because there is none.” Drake's holo-presence said. “We have operatives all over the galaxy, and one of them managed to disable the weapon.”

Nat growled as she glared daggers at the 31 operative until he let out a sigh. “Fine. We will see that you and the private are taken back to the Federation, and they can deal with this.” Drake waved at the pair. He looked away for a moment then nodded. “Captain T'Vala will see that you make contact.”

“Thank you.” Nat said with a sharp nod as she stood.

~*~

Captain's log Stardate... I'm not entirely sure what day it is at this point.
Supplemental.

Where do I start with this update? I told you so, maybe?

Selar has proven to be... I'd call her a Romulan, but that feels like an insult to the ones I fought against back in the day. It amazes me how things have changed in a century. Any way, the conference was all a play. I'm not sure what would have happened if we hadn't found the Thalaron weapon what her play would have been, but the assault on Vulcan feels like a Plan B move to me.

“Pause recording.” Na'tal leaned back in her quarter's desk chair, and Aloha hopped up onto her lap letting out worried chirps as the caracal rubbed her head against Nat's chest. “Hey there sweet thing...” Nat breathed as she let the furry creature's presence relax her.

“Computer, continue recording.”

The Ice Queen took a beating, but the crew did well for their first real large scale engagement. I... don't look forward to contacting the families of the dead though. Back in the day I only had to deal with the Security staff deaths, and now... now it is the whole crew. I really don't look forward to contacting the family of private Janeway, who I got to know quite well during the conference. He saved my life at the expense of his own. He'd...

“Captain, we're being hailed, they want to talk to you directly.” the current tactical officer said over the intercom.

“I'll take it here.” Nat said as she debated pulling on her uniform jacket or not. She chose not as she turned on the screen. Her jaw dropped when she saw her own face staring back at her. “Oh hell...”

“Yeah, I knew that would be your reaction.” the other Nat stated with a tired head shake. “I'm glad you're alive, even if it makes life more difficult for me. The eye patch was unexpected. Before you ask; one of our future friends had someone in Sela's group or the Tal'Shiar helping them. They wanted to try and brainwash me and replace you so I could be their mole in Daniel's faction.”

Nat scrubbed her face, mindful of the area around her damaged eye, and smirked at Aloha's confused feline expression as she looked from the monitor then to the person she was sitting on. “Mkay. All right. How soon can you link up? We're in the Andorian ship yards...”

“I believe it will be about a week. We're on a freighter... Huh? One moment. Ok, the captain says that they just got the transwarp drive running again, and we'll be there in three hours.”

“All right... oi, I'm surprised I'm taking this so well.”

“I know. I'm getting it from this side of things.”

“I'll see what precedence there is for things like this and see about a few other things...”

“Jiro...”

“Oh gah, there's now two of him?”

“Yes, but the other has... gone else where. Of the landing party that was copied him, myself and private Janeway survived...”

“Janeway? Jerome Janeway?”

“Yes...?”

“He... the original was killed.”

“Oh hell. All right I'll let him know.”

“I'll have some Novas waiting, and hold off on the notification of his family.”

~*~

“... And that's my side of things.” the eye patched Nat said as she leaned back in one of the arm chairs in her quarters while the other her lounged on the couch looking worn out while wearing just a silk robe after having a long sonic shower. Aloha had disappeared into the bedroom choosing to ignore both shen instead of cuddling up to either.

“Not sure which of us got off easier.” the robed Nat mused as she sat up to pore another round of Novas.

“It doesn't have to stay the two of you. And I can smooth things over regarding Mr. Janeway.” Daniels said as she stepped out of the closet. “We can reintegrate the two of you...”

The Nats exchanged looks and said in unison “Frack that.” the robed one indicated for the other to continue. “Well accept help with the Janeway issue, but we will work out our issue ourselves.”

Daniels sighed “Very well. I will see that memories are adjusted and all that...”

“He stays alive and on this crew.” the robed Nat stated as she glared at Daniels. “And how did you not see this coming?”

“Because history never recorded a second you or Mr. Janeway's death.” Daniels stated a he massaged his temples. With a grimace he held up a small holo-pad and brought up a small version of the temporal string plot. “You weren't even supposed to be sent on that diplomacy mission Captain. As a result...” before the trio's eyes the lines shifted becoming just a bit more chaotic.

“You suddenly feeling like pasta?” the robed Nat asked.

“Yes. You mind? You're closer to the replicator.” the patched Nat replied.

Daniels made a sound deep in his throat before turning on his heels and stalking back into the closet. “I will see to Mr. Janeway.” he said in ways of goodbye.

“So. I'm not gonna dispute your claim to be captain, you lost an eye...”

“Thanks... so what are we gonna do?”

“Well I got two job offers on the way here. Turned Drake down flat, didn't even let him bring us home. Not that he offered after he picked up who he wanted. The Reman captain also offered me a place if I wanted it.”

The eye patched Nat nodded slowly “You're not going to take the offer. I wouldn't.”

“No, I'm not. I'm not sure what I want to do at the moment.”

“Until you do, you're welcome to stay aboard.”

The robed Nat's antenna twitched. “You know that wouldn't work. We'd drive each other nuts. I think... I think I'll see if I can get permission to visit P'jem.”

“Ok. I'll see about getting you transport to Vulcan and from there...”

cmdrscarlet · November 2017

Copy Kathy

The doors to Sick Bay open and Doctor Annika Kramer walks out. Her affect is blank until the doors close. She looks back to the doors and shakes her head before turning to face Captain Beringer and First Officer Ythysi. “Bad news or good news first?

The other officers look at each other before responding as if communicating with facial expressions first. Kathryn replies, “Bad news, I suppose. It’s better to get that out of the way.”

Annika sighs. “She has no idea how she got here. It’s as if, in a blink of an eye, she was on the bridge and then in your quarters.”

Kathryn crossed her arms.

Anthi’s antennae twitched slightly. “And the good news?”

“She is a perfect copy of Kathryn, physically, mentally, biologically, psychologically, even chronologically. Frankly Captain, if you died right now, no one would know the woman in Sick Bay,” she thumbed to the doors behind her, “is not … you.

With one hand, Kathryn rubbed on the rank pips on her collar before responding. “The bottom line is she is here and we need to do something about it.”

The Andorian First Officer spoke quickly. “On the face of it, we can’t ethically do anything. It’s not like this was caused by a transporter malfunction or some trick from Q. That would be relatively easy to solve, so to speak. Besides, we would have heard from Q by now, I’m sure.”

Annika put her hands on her hips. “Well, we can’t keep her here either.”

Shaking her head, Kathryn asked, “How’s the rest of the crew?”

“No one has reported further symptoms for two days.”

Nodding, Kathryn said, “so, she is the remaining issue.” She turned to Anthi. “The warning markers were deployed around Xerosia, correct?”

“Yes, sir. Once we recovered from the hallucinations, the buoys were launched. The crew has been submitting reports of their experiences since then.”

Kathryn paced a few steps in the hallway. “The second sentient planet the Federation has encountered and this happens. As if it is trying to send a message to-.” She stopped and turned to the other women.

“The question is, what are we going to do with her?” Annika was scratching her head and didn’t notice the gleam in Kathryn’s eyes.

“I have an idea. But it’s personal and selfish.”

Anthi looked back to Kathryn. They stared at each other for several seconds before Annika looked up and tried to join the silent conversation.

+++

Several minutes later …

The doors to Sick Bay open and Captain Kathryn Beringer walks in. Her affect is blank until the doors close. She looks back to the Doctor and First Officer and nods her head before turning to face the other Kathryn Beringer. “Bad news or good news first?

Sitting on a Bio-Bed and wearing standard medical fatigues, with her long burgundy hair let down and flowing over shoulders, Kathryn smirked. “Bad news, I suppose. It’s better to get that out of the way.”

Captain Beringer smiled. “I knew you would say that. Mind if I call you ‘Kathy’, it will help with the conversation?”

Kathy kept smirking, “It’s what I was going to ask you, actually.”

Anthi crossed her arms. Annika placed her hands on her hips.

Kathryn continued. “Okay, the bad news is we cannot determine how you got here. According to Doctor Kramer, there is no reason you should be here and, thus, we have no way to figure out how to … send you back –“.

“So,” Kathy interrupted, “you need to figure out what to do with me.”

“Yes. But, if you are me, then you know everything about me. Everything.”

The two women stared at each other for several seconds until Kathy broke the silence. “I can’t read your mind.”

Kathryn crossed arms behind her back as if to stand in relaxed attention and leaned forward at the waist. “As you know, there are a handful of people on board, you trust intimately, who know your … our past very well.”

“Yes, and two of them are in this room.”

“Exactly.” Kathryn spoke in hushed tones. “Duty as a Starfleet Captain prevents you from doing some work you really want to do.”

Kathy narrowed her eyes. “Then why stay in Starfleet?”

Kathryn narrowed her eyes and grinned. “In the grand scheme of things, you can do more in the chair, than away from it.”

Looking over Kathryn’s shoulder, Kathy could see Anthi and Annika had not moved. Clearly, a plan had been hatched by the three of them and Kathy was the catalyst. “Specifically meaning?”

The Captain looked back to the others in the room and then back to Kathy with a mischievous look in her eyes. “We do have a Black Talon suit.”

Kathy briefly looked stunned until the realization behind the statement dawned on her. Kathryn was suggesting she be in two places at the same time: one as the dutiful Starfleet Captain, the other …

“Let me be crystal clear about this. You’re thinking I could take the Black Talon and ‘hunt’ Syndicate members to satisfy a vendetta?!”

Kathryn didn’t move. “Correction: making a dent in the slave trade. This is our passion, our motivation to be where we are and joining Starfleet was the ‘high road’, so to speak. As a reminder, you tread the ‘low road’ and it was hard, real hard.”

Looking skeptical, Kathy asked, “So why suggest I go back to that life?”

Kathryn reached up and touched the rank pips on her collar. “It would be a lonely life to be sure. You remember what it was like before joining Starfleet: the constant insecurity, fear, hate … and satisfaction. Frankly, you don’t have to be a killer, not like you wanted to be or thought you could be. Finding slavers and reporting them should be enough.”

“C’mon, you remember reporting to the authorities was never enough!”

“True, but this time you’ll have some support.” She smiled and spread her arms wide as if to show off some fashionable piece of clothing.

Kathy smirked, the idea and its many possibilities was settling in her mind. “Unofficially I presume?”

Kathryn looked smug. “Look at it another way: as official as I can make it.”

ULC Entry 32 Prompt: "New Year, New Changes"

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