Phantom Academy Part I

“Why are we here?” Captain Johnathan Ruttidge asked with his arms crossed. He was thankful to be back on Earth after his crew went full mutiny and left him stranded in the Beta quadrant. But, he was abhorred at being forced to sit in the waiting room of the Dean’s office at Starfleet Academy. He would much rather have been surfing or lounging on the beach right now. He always thought it was a waste for the academy to be so close to the water. None of the students had time for frolicking in the ocean.

He was top of his class in his day and graduated a year early. It wasn’t that he loved exploration that much, he just wanted to get out of school as soon as possible. He didn’t take direction well. It was his belief that the only place worth being in life was at the top.

The only reason he ever worked hard was to make his way to a high position so no one could ever tell him what to do. That was why he worked to move up from ensign to captain in the fastest time possible. He was young, barely thirty, and most of his crew had been older than him.

One day, the crew decided they didn’t want his leadership and swiftly dropped him off on Veronous 7. Now, he sat with his fluffy blonde hair (longer than regulation allowed) flopping over his eyes as he talked. He looked over toward the other two beings in the room and waited for their reply.

“Obviously Admiral Binns has requested to meet with each of us.” Stated Ocktal. He said this to his human counterpart in a monotone voice. Even though he did not know for sure that the others were here to meet with Admiral Binns, he was, so of course it was a logical assumption.

Ruttidge was already annoyed with this Vulcan and his pointy ears. There had been a few Vulcans on his crew and all they ever cared about was being logical. It was annoying. He turned away from the Vulcan to face the woman on his other side.

Her dark skin and stark forehead ridges were distinctly Klingon. She wore her hair in a long braid down her back. Ruttidge followed the braid with his eyes down to where it stopped at her waist. There, he took a long look at her fine figure. She was obviously a fighter, and he wouldn’t mind rolling around with her on the sparring mat for a while.

“Stop staring at me!” She growled in an already angry voice. Ruttidge quickly looked away. Obviously he would not find interesting conversation with either of these two.

Ocktal looked over at the Klingon and noted how barbaric she was. Yelling in an Admiral’s office was as uncouth as it got. No doubt she was here to be reprimanded. He felt a twinge of dislike for her. Quickly, he squashed that emotion. It was a useless thing to feel, especially since he would never see her again after today.

“Captain Ruttige, Liutenant Ocktal, Commander Ma’ara; Admiral Binns will see you now.” Said the upbeat female secretary. All three stood simultaneously and headed through the door that had been opened for them.

Admiral Binns sat with her back them as they walked in. She was rocking slowly back and forth in her desk chair without speaking. The secretary quickly closed the door as soon as they were clear of it. With the door closed, Binns spun around in her chair and stared at them.

“The three of you are here because you’re all very ‘special’ cases.” Admiral Binns said in a professional tone. Ruttidge knew what the word ‘special’ meant in this context and he wasn’t pleased. Ocktal was standing as tall and straight as possible as if he had been complimented. Obviously he didn’t understand sarcasm. Ma’ara was standing with her fists clinched. Her expression was strained but she did not speak. This was one angry woman.

“Special how?” Ruttidge asked skeptically.

“The three of you have manage to plow through every position, station, and assignment that Starfleet has to offer. There’s not a single outpost you haven’t been banned from or fellow officer you haven’t rubbed the wrong way. Each of you is one wrong step away from being dishonorably discharged!” Binns was still smiling politely but her face started to turn red as if the oxygen was low.

The look on Ocktal’s face showed that he finally understood what ‘special’ meant. He wasn’t pleased, but then again Ruttidge wasn’t sure the Vulcan was feeling anything.

Ma’ara was definitely feeling something. Her fists were pumping open and closed and she was breathing heavily. Ruttidge took a small step away from her. He wasn’t afraid, but it seemed like she needed her space.

“So if there are no positions left for us to be assigned to and we’re not being discharged, what is happening?” Ruttidge asked. He was going to be thoroughly upset if he got called all the way in here just to be told he was fired.

“The three of you are horrible officers, but you weren’t horrible students. In fact, all of you were damn near at the top of your classes. The fact that such fine students could turn out to be officers of your caliber leads me to believe that some of the academy’s lesser students could one day become our finest officers. It is for this reason that I have decided to create the Starfleet Academy Remediation Program.

Normally students who can not handle the rigorous academy curriculum are encourage to dropout, but not anymore. You three will be in charge of molding the minds of five of Starfleet Academy’s underachieving students.” Binns interlaced her fingers as if she were proud of herself.

“You want us to babysit five flunkies?” Ruttidge was annoyed at the thought.

“I do not do well with children…..or weaklings.” Ma’ara spoke. It was obvious that she was speaking through gritted teeth, holding back her rage.

“What if we don’t do it?” Ruttidge asked.

“Then you will be dishonorably discharged.” Binns said coolly.

“Go ahead! Discharge me! I’m not attached to this job at all!” Ruttidge exclaimed. He was a Starfleet captain, not a babysitter.

“Fine. But I must remind you, Captain Ruttidge, that being dishonorably discharged from Starfleet carries some heavy connotations. You will lose all of the power and respect that comes with the title of Captain. Also, the only jobs you will be able to get will be lackey starter positions. You’ll be at the bottom of the totem pole where everyone else can order you around.” Admiral Binns ended her statement with a small smirk on her lips.

She knew she had Ruttidge beat. She had known him since he was a student at the academy and had personally witnessed his disdain for authority figures.

“Ugggh I’ll do it.” Ruttidge said reluctantly. Anything was better than starting over. Ma’ara grunted in agreement as well. Ocktal said nothing.

“What about you Liutenant Ocktal? You’ve been quiet.” Binns asked.

“If these are your orders, I will follow them.” Ocktal said succinctly. Binns leaned back in her chair, pleased. She gave the three officers directions to the new building that would house the remediation program.

The building was on the far east end of the Californa campus. The building had old style architecture that hadn’t been used since the early 2100s. It was basically run down and unusable. Ruttidge didn’t want to go in.

“We’re going to be working and living together so we should at least be formally introduced. I am Captain Johnathan Ruttidge but you can call me Rutty.” Ruttidge said with a huge smile. No one else was smiling.

“Calling a superior officer by a nickname is inappropriate, Captain Ruttidge.” Ocktal put an emphasis on the word captain.

“Rutty sounds like a childish and demeaning name. It would please me greatly to call you that.” Ma’ara stated. She had a small smirk on her face. She had a hard time respecting weak men and ‘Rutty’ seemed to be all talk no action.

Ruttidge knew that he was being insulted but what could he do? He had asked that they call him Rutty.

“I am Liutenant Ocktal. Please call me as such.” Ocktal said.

“Commander Ma’ara.” Ma’ara stated. She stood straight and puffed out her chest with pride. Ruttidge definitely noticed this. Ocktal repeated Ma’ara’s name perfectly but Ruttidge couldn’t do it. He kept pronouncing it as Maaaaara or Ma-a-ra. Eventually Ma’ara just couldn’t take it.

“Calling me Commander will suffice.” She said as Ruttidge tried to pronounce it once more. He immediately stopped trying to pronounce her name and changed the subject.

“Well now that we have the name situation out of the way, how about we get to know each other. I personally was removed from my last post when my crew mutinied and left me stranded on Veronous 7. How about you two?”

“I punched my previous commanding officer in the throat. It was dishonorable but I do not regret it.” Ma’ara was staring off into the distance as if she were remembering something amusing. Both Ruttidge and Ocktal took a few steps back from her.

“You punched a superior officer and were not discharged from Starfleet? How is that possible?” Ocktal asked. His intellectial curiosity got the best of him.

“I have never lost in battle, my hand to hand combat skills are unrivaled, and I am an expert on every man made weapon from here to the delta quadrant. If Starfleet does not keep me, they run the risk of me fighting against them. They can’t afford to take that risk.” Ma’ara stated. She wanted to give him a quick leg sweep for questioning her place in Starfleet but instead simply glared at him.

“No one is questioning your usefulness to Starfleet, Commander. Lieutenant Ocktal, what happened in your last assignment to land you here?” Ruttidge asked to diffuse the situation.

“It does not matter what I have done previously. I am here now and I am more than qualified for this current assignment. Also, it is 7:55 and the students are due to arrive at 8. We should greet them.” Ocktal stated robotically. Ruttidge flipped over his wrist to look at his analog watch. It was an ancient relic that he had owned his entire life. He couldn’t do without it.

How had the time gone by so fast? The students would be here any moment and their ‘school’ looked like it should have been slated for demolition 100 years ago. Not to mention, none of the so called professors were getting along. Things were not off to a great start.

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Quicksand, Part III

Quicksand

Part III

“Do you know me?” Sivath asked. He folded his hands behind his back; it was his habit, a practiced affectation intended to make him seem more Vulcan.

The caged Ferengi nodded, giving him a smile full of sharp teeth. “I know you, Nuhir Iuruth Solos. We serve the same masters.”

She knew Sivath’s true name. He hadn’t heard it spoken aloud in forty years. How strange it sounded to his ears now. “The Tal Shiar,” he said, seeing no point in pretending not to know what she was talking about.

“Not any longer, my boy. You know as well as anyone that Romulan politics are fraught.” She crossed her arms, regarding him critically. “Or perhaps you don’t. You were so young when you left. In the images I was given to help identify you, you could not have been out of your teens.”

The carefully-buried memories this dredged up pained Sivath. The years of study and tests and gene therapy, the fear and the pain, all to shape him into an agent who could pass for Vulcan. He didn’t want these feelings churning within him, not now and especially not later when he next had to face Nim. “Who holds your leash now?” Sivath redirected, his voice thick.

“Granted, you’ve aged better than I have,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I was quite a stunner in my heyday, you know. Had more than a few important DaiMons wrapped around my finger.” She sighed wistfully. “Lots of things change, my boy, but much more stays the same. The empire burned, and now we have two successor states fighting over the ashes. The Republic happens to have inherited certain classified archives which, it just so happens, included records about you and me. I was reactivated almost a year ago. They’ve been trying to get in touch with you for months, I understand, but you haven’t been answering their hails.”

A quake hit the ship. Sivath braced himself against the wall. Over the groan of flexing starship, Sivath said, “I destroyed the transceiver.”

“Yes, I know. It’s why they sent me. You didn’t think they would just let you go that easily, did you?”

Sivath had no answer for her.

“The chains went slack a long time ago.” The woman turned her back on Sivath and took a few steps toward the back wall of her cell. “But they never fell away, Nuhir.”

“I am called Sivath now,” he said. He had decided he didn’t like hearing his old name.

“And you’ve done well for yourself. Climbed all the way up to Starfleet Commander,” she said, taking a seat on bunk. “Was that your idea, or theirs?”

To avoid answering her question, Sivath asked, “What should I call you?”

“Hehx is the name I gave your security chief when I came aboard this vessel,” she said. “It’s a name as good as any.”

“Hehx, I have no intention of submitting to the will of any Romulan political faction, Tal Shiar or otherwise. I put that life behind me. I am my own man now.”

“A man in uniform. You follow the orders of this ship’s captain and the directives of Starfleet. Are these new chains more comfortable than the old?”

Sivath didn’t answer. The truth of it was that he had enrolled at Starfleet Academy on instructions from his Tal Shiar handlers, but what business of hers was that?

“Nevertheless, my boy, I’m here to inform you that you are being called to serve your homeland. I’m afraid it’s not a request.”

“Suppose I refuse,” Sivath said.

Another tremor struck. It was ever so slightly milder than the last one. Sivath still had to grab for the wall to steady himself.

“Then you had better be prepared to kill me,” Hehx said calmly. “I’m not about to rot in in some Starfleet prison for the rest of my golden years. I’ll strike a deal: my freedom for the identity of the traitor in their midst.”

Sivath’s jaw clenched. In all his years in Federation space, he had never once had to use violence to protect his secrets. Could he kill now, if Hehx left him no choice?

The brig’s door opened. Nim came storming through in a fury, her eyes hard as diamonds and locked on Sivath. “What the hell is this?” she demanded. The security guard trailed after her, his expression apologetic. He clearly didn’t want to be in the middle of a fight between superior officers.

Sivath blanked his mind. He thought of the wind, of the beach, of the stars. He did not dare look at Hehx for fear of what ideas she might provoke. To Nim, he said, “I was discussing the matter of the sabotaged shuttle with the prisoner, Lieutenant. Is there a problem?”

“You’re goddamn right there is,” Nim said. “I’m the chief of security here. I handle the interrogations.”

Sivath saw Hehx rise from her bunk again in his peripheral vision. He turned his head a bit further away. “Come on then, hit him,” she said encouragingly. “I’ve got 15 bars of latinum on the little scrappy one. What do you think, junior?” The security officer tried unsuccessfully to sink through the floor.

“Let’s speak in the hallway,” Nim said to Sivath. The words seemed like a suggestion, but the tone did not. To the guard, she said, “Nobody but me enters or leaves this room. You got that? Not the first officer, not the captain, not Admiral Goddamn Quinn. Got it?”

Sivath stepped out into the corridor. His heart rate was elevated; he employed an old meditation technique to calm down. He had nearly managed it when he was jarred by another tremor.

Nim emerged from the brig after him. “Hi,” she said after the door closed behind her.

“Hello,” Sivath returned the greeting.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“I am well, Lieutenant.”

“Super. So can you tell me what the hell you’re up to?” Nim’s eyes excavated Sivath.

“Lieutenant, is it necessary that I remind you that you are speaking to a superior officer?”

“It isn’t necessary, Commander, but you’re welcome to it if it will make you feel bigger. In return I’ll remind you that you’ve read my service history, so you know that the reason I’m serving as security chief on some survey tug even less likely to see real action than my grandfather is that I don’t give a damn what your rank is. I will not allow you to interfere with my ability to do my job.”

“You’ve made your point, Lieutenant,” Sivath warned.

“No, I don’t think I have,” Nim persisted. “I’ve had a weird feeling about you since I came aboard, but until now I didn’t know quite what to make of it. You’re cagey and slippery, always guarding your thoughts around me. And it wasn’t until I saw you and her in the same room that I realized what you remind me most of is somebody with training at frustrating telepaths.”

“We’re finished here,” Sivath said, and started to leave.

Nim got in his face. “Something’s going on here,” she said. “I don’t know what yet, but I will figure it out. My advice to you, Commander, is that you come find me when you’re ready to talk about it. Because if I have to puzzle it out on my own, I’m taking the finished picture right to the captain.”

Sivath said, “You are in my way.”

Nim’s eyes drilled into him for just a moment longer. Then she stepped aside.

Sivath stalked off, only keeping a lid on the storm brewing in his chest by force of will.

=/\=

Not knowing what to do or where to go, Sivath ended up at Loh’at’s door. He needed to let off some steam. She answered the door chime in her blue shirtsleeves. “Looked for you at your quarters,” she said by way of greeting.

“I was elsewhere,” Sivath said.

“And now you’re here.”

“May I enter?” Sivath asked, perhaps a bit impatiently.

She stepped aside to admit him. “I asked the ship’s computer to locate you. Said you were down in the brig.”

“You asked the computer?” he repeated, stifling amusement. He unzipped and shrugged off his jacket. A quake hit the ship, but either the magnitude was weakening or Sivath was getting used to it. He kept his balance without bracing on anything.

Loh’at seemed similarly adapted; she barely acknowledged the tremor. “I wanted to know if you were in her quarters instead,” Loh’at teased. “Can I get you something?” She padded, barefoot, toward the replicator.

“Bloodwine. And I presume you mean Lieutenant Nim.”

“You’re all she wanted to talk about over drinks. Computer, two goblets of bloodwine, warm.” She slipped out of her trousers as the drinks materialized. “I half expected her to hunt you down after she left the lounge.”

Sivath paused halfway through undoing the fasteners on his shirt. “She did, actually. But her intentions were less amorous than you imagine.” Sivath resumed his unfastening and tried to sound nonchalant with his next question. “She wanted to discuss me?”

Loh’at returned and handed him a goblet, stepping close enough to slip her hand into his open shirt and palm the fabric of his undershirt. “For somebody you’re so sure has no interest in you, she certainly was curious about what a Vulcan is like in bed.” Loh’at cackled smugly.

Sivath nearly choked on his wine. The warm liquid burned his gullet.

“Don’t worry,” Loh’at reassured him. “I gave you a good review.”

Sivath’s mind was racing, trying to figure out what Loh’at might have said, what Nim might have concluded from it. He was suddenly, horrifically aware of how unguarded he let himself be with Loh’at. He croaked, “What else . . . did she want to know?”

Loh’at’s free hand untucked his undershirt and began to work at his belt. “Oh, you know. The kinds of things you ask about when you’re working up to the good stuff. Where’s he from? Why’s he such a weird Vulcan? I told her not to hold it against you. You can’t help that you were raised by circus Ferengi or whatever.”

Sivath put out a hand to stop her from tugging inarticulately at his belt buckle further. “You told her about my family?” he asked, leaning away slightly.

A subtle shift behind Loh’at’s eyes told Sivath that she knew she’d stepped over a line. But it was not Loh’at’s way to step back. “Yeah, so?” she said. She took a large sip from her goblet.

“I told you about my parents in confidence. I confided in you during an intimate moment.” Another tremor, too mild to be appropriately dramatic.

“Well excuse me, Commander. I didn’t know that your Ferengi lineage was a secret.” She tried to lean in again, seeking to rekindle the mood. “Are you the scion of a fallen dynasty, smuggled off to Federation space to escape the curvy knives of your noble bloodline’s ancient rivals?”

She took his cup from him and set both aside on a table. Closing the distance between them, she slipped his shirt over his shoulders. Sivath’s mind was awhirl. He needed a moment to process all this but he couldn’t think with her lips brushing his neck.

“If you want me to keep your secrets, you only have to tell me what’s a secret. You don’t tell me anything about yourself. If I hadn’t seen that gold statue I wouldn’t have known anything at all about your parents.” Her teeth grazed his jawline. “I only mentioned your parents to Vera in the course of telling that story about the creepy bust staring at us in bed, anyway.”

Sivath planted his hands against Loh’at’s shoulders and pushed her gently but firmly away from him. “You told her about the bust of the Blessed Exchequer,” he said. It wasn’t quite a question; if anything, it was a plea to explain how he’d misunderstood what he’d just heard.

Loh’at’s crossed her arms. A shift of her hips transitioned her entire posture from evil temptress to I-guess-we’re-having-a-Serious-Talk-now. “Yeah, I did, Sivath. Was that top secret too?” She grabbed her goblet back up from the table, taking another drink.

Sivath shrugged his shirt back up over his shoulders and rubbed his face with his hands. He felt a headache coming on. “I cannot . . . begin . . . to describe what bad timing this was.”

“You’re telling me,” she said ruefully. “Listen, back there on the bridge I blew it in front of the captain. It’s my job to be the encyclopedia on weird space crap and we had to have our asses pulled out of the fire by the first officer. I don’t particularly need a lecture on how else I’ve disappointed you today. The door’s that way if you want it. Maybe when the timing’s right you can make me a list of everything about you that I’m not supposed to talk about to other people and I can take it out and reference it on days when my memory isn’t working so great, how about that?”

The floor shook, but Sivath barely noticed.

He knew now that this whole affair had been a mistake. He had become complacent, let himself relax too much, let his guard down. How much had Nim put together already? How long until she found the pieces she was still missing? He couldn’t afford the liability of this liaison any longer. It might already have cost him everything he had.

Sivath refastened his shirt with trembling fingers. “That will not be necessary. You are correct,” he said, “it is unfair of me to expect you to protect my privacy. That is my responsibility.” He stooped to pick up his jacket and slotted his arms hastily. “I do not think we should see each other socially anymore.”

“Yeah,” Loh’at said. She had her arms crossed in front of her, eyes regarding him over her upheld goblet. “Think we’re on the same page there, buddy.”

=/\=

The warp core room was quiet. With Heisesnberg running exclusively off battery power, there was nothing for an engineer to do there. The core spanned four decks, ringed by catwalks and balconies, usually a buzzing hive of activity. Sivath couldn’t remember ever before having the room to himself.

He stood on one of the upper catwalks, leaning his elbows on the railing, looking down through the gloom. He listened to the hiss of warp plasma circulating through the ducts, unable to reach the core reaction chamber. He was pondering how he would get away with killing the elderly Ferengi woman in the brig, if it came to that. He hadn’t decided to do it yet. He hadn’t even come to a conclusion about whether he could. But the question of how was easier to answer than either of those.

He could easily arrange a power outage on deck six. The backup batteries stored in the brig would be trickier; they weren’t connected to any other systems, specifically because the Starfleet engineers who’d designed the ship didn’t want a power surge releasing prisoners from the brig. Sivath supposed he might be able to overheat the batteries if he tampered with EPS conduit 644, given that the wall between them wasn’t too thick. It was a bit of a brute force solution, but it was something.

All that did for him was get him through the force field though. He still had to go through the security guard, and he was not prepared to kill a fellow Starfleet officer to save his own skin. If only his Tal Shiar instructors had bothered to teach him the nerve pinch technique; that would be useful to have now.

A phaser set to stun would work, but of course the weapon discharge would trip alarms. And even if he wasted no time in murdering Hehx, he still had to dispose of the body somehow. He’d probably be caught by Nim before he could even drag it out to the corridor.

Sivath groaned and rubbed his temples. His headache was only getting worse. He gazed down through the dim emergency lighting and wondered if he could be certain that a fall to the warp core room floor would kill him. Not that he was ready to seriously consider suicide as an escape; it would just have been nice to know that there was one course of action open to him without any uncertainty.

Supposing he could somehow disable the brig’s power, somehow disable the guard, and somehow get Hehx, whether dead or alive, out of the brig before security converged, he still needed a way to get rid of her. He either needed a way to dispose of a body without leaving a trace, or he needed a way to get her off the ship. Setting aside for the moment the problem of moving a dead body around the interior of the ship, he figured that the disposal was actually the easier problem to solve. The primary power transfer conduits which connected the warp core to the nacelles were big enough to fit a small body within, and the energized warp plasma they conveyed would make very short work of any organic matter in its way. He’d have to stash the corpse in one of those conduits before Heisenberg’s warp core was powered up again, of course . . .

“Something here?” called a voice from below. Sivath had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed anyone enter, but now he could spot Dayr down there in the dark, moving from console to console, needlessly checking that all systems were stable.

“Commander Sivath,” he called down from his perch. “Do not let me interrupt.”

A pause. “Coming up,” Dayr announced. A minute later the chief engineer ascended the last ladder and stepped out onto the catwalk. “Brooding in darkness? Very conventional. Always appreciate Commander’s unconventional qualities.”

Sivath felt an unexpected chuckle form in his chest, which he only barely suppressed. “Thank you, Dayr. That means . . . more than you know.”

“Now cryptic platitudes. Very bad trend. This is quarrel with Loh’at?”

“What?” Sivath balked. “How could you–?”

“Been in lounge, buying drinks for engineers,” Dayr explained. “Called team building, yes? Saw Loh’at drink with Vera Nim, leave, later come back and drink alone. Very serious. And here is Commander, also very serious. Simple diagnostic.”

Sivath couldn’t fault the chief engineer’s reasoning, but it did bother him that everyone on the ship seemed to know his private business. He said, “We did, indeed, quarrel. But the matter is resolved. Your concern is noted and even appreciated, but unwarranted. I am fine.”

Dayr gave him a lingering look of pity before turning his attention to the warp core. “Come up here to think sometimes. Don’t like quiet though. Engines should purr.”

“Soon they will again,” Sivath said. “It would be logical to appreciate the calm while it lasts.”

“Logical, yes,” Dayr repeated. “Logical arguments, well phrased. Needed these before, but human language difficult.”

“Whom did you need to persuade?” Sivath asked.

“Captain Bao. Needed permission to modify shuttle for graviton ellipse traversal. Skeptical, dismissive, denied.”

Sivath’s brow knit. “You wanted permission to modify the Ferengi shuttle . . . ?”

“Not Ferengi, Starfleet. When Voyager encountered graviton ellipse, seized opportunity, configured shuttle to penetrate anomaly safely. Wondrous discoveries within. Captured treasures, lost relics.”

Now Sivath remembered the story. The ship that first encountered this type of anomaly and lived to tell the tale had sent a shuttle in utilizing principles similar to those keeping Heisenberg from being drawn back into the gravity well. Of course Dayr would want to trick out one of the ship’s shuttles and see what wreckage was floating in the eye of the storm. Normally, anything that fell into the ellipse was lost for good . . .

Sivath knew how to get rid of Hehx.

=/\=

In the end it came down to a very simple decision. Sivath could agonize over the problems before him until his last hours of freedom waned, or he could get to work.

He started with the modifications to the Ferengi shuttle. The specifications were well documented in Voyager’s logs but the work still took the better part of three hours. Sivath was desperately aware that if the anomaly collapsed before he finished, he really was finished. While his hands did the mechanical work, his mind started putting together his plan for the other half of this gambit: breaking Hehx out of the brig.

He could short out the electrical grid and melt the backup battery with an EPS overload, but the guard was a problem. There was no way to get the drop on him if Sivath had to force the unpowered door open by hand, and he couldn’t go short the grid after dealing with the guard because the phaser fire would sound the alarm. The solution came to him as he was scavenging parts from the shuttle’s replicator. The brig cells had replicators too, but the controls were at the security station; it was an arrangement designed to solve the age old problem of passing food to prisoners without opening a door to their escape. This one, it so happened, was the key to Sivath’s escape plan. He could tap into the computer network from practically anywhere in the ship and take control of those cell replicators. With the safeguards bypassed, he could replicate anything he wanted, including a phaser.

There was still one big problem with all this. Between the grid short, the EPS overload and the mysteriously generous replicator, it would be obvious that this had been an inside job. Nim would have him walking the plank right out an airlock by the end of the day. Sivath needed a smokescreen for all this skullduggery.

By the time he’d finished his work in the shuttlebay, he thought he had an answer to that question too. Returning to his quarters, he went to his closet and pulled down the box labelled “Mementos”. Rummaging through it, he found the hardcase containing memory chips from the two-year tour of the fringes he’d taken with his “adopted” parents upon infiltrating Federation space. Ripping out the cushioned lining, he inspected the set of small, delicate tools secured against the roof of the case. There were two hypos, one loaded with a truth serum and another with a lethal toxin; in fact both were lethal, but one made the victim talk first. There was a pack of small, disposable recording devices. And there were two crystal data chips, colored blue and green. The blue one was a codebreaker program which represented the bleeding edge of 2370s Romulan cryptographic technology. The green one was a particularly nasty computer virus of roughly the same vintage.

Sivath selected the green chip. Security software had come a long way in forty years, so he couldn’t count on it doing much for him. He hoped it would be enough.

=/\=

An hour later, a phaser materialized on the replicator pad in brig cell three. It was a regulation type one model, locked in its stun setting. The guard at the security station heard the replicator’s hum and thought its timing strange, so he rose to investigate. Then the lights went out throughout deck six. The security guard, suddenly plunged into darkness, wished he’d reported the faint smell of burning plastic in the air to engineering.

“Just stay put, ma’am,” he called out to the prisoner, reaching for the phaser on his own hip. “I’m sure the problem will be addressed momen–”

The orange glow of a nadion particle beam lit up the room, briefly. The guard collapsed into a heap. A moment later, Hehx nearly tripped over the body as she groped her way along the wall in the darkness. Feeling around blindly, she located the guard’s phaser and checked its power setting. This one was not restricted, so she turned it up to full disintegration. She pocketed the replicated phaser and kept the bulkier type two model in hand.

A soft hiss issued from the door; its manual release had been pulled. Grunting and rustling as someone bodily forced the door open. Hehx crouched, taking cover beside the security station, and took aim. She could almost make out the silhouette of the interloper against the texturally distinct darkness of the open doorway.

Sivath’s voice whispered, “Hehx?” She took the shot.

The beam struck the door frame; Sivath, illuminated momentarily by the beam’s glow, hit the floor and rolled. He had the advantage of good low-light vision, so he was able to slip around behind Hehx and wrench the weapon from her hand. Hehx landed an unexpected kick to the back of Sivath’s knee, causing it to buckle, and swatted the phaser from his hand. The weapon went clattering away into the darkness. Hehx withdrew the smaller replicated phaser from her pocket and shoved it in Sivath’s face, her knee planted firmly on his chest. “I’ve heard a point-blank shot to the head with one of these can still scramble a man’s brains,” she warned.

“We do not have time for this!” Sivath hissed. “They will be here any second. I am here to help, but you need to trust me!”

Hehx considered this for only a moment before backing off and giving him room to rise. “Why didn’t you say so before? Let’s get the hell out of here.”

=/\=

Sivath led Hehx through the maze of Jeffries tubes, heading upward and aftward. If they could reach the shuttlebay undetected, Hehx’s shuttle was waiting. Hehx was lagging behind. The swipes she’d taken at him back in the brig had given him the impression of a Ferengi who was surprisingly spry for her age, but it was clear now that speed was not one of her strengths.

“We need to hurry,” Sivath insisted. “It won’t take Nim long to guess where we’re headed.”

“Don’t give me sass, boy, I’m still holding the phaser.” Hehx wheezed and hobbled along after him.

Red alert lighting flashed on and off above. Then it would stop for several minutes and start again. Sivath was relieved to know that the virus was having some effect; he didn’t need it to accomplish anything, just create enough confusion to obfuscate his trail. He felt a little guilty for the bad day ops was having, but it couldn’t be helped.

They reached a ladder. Sivath looked up the shaft. Two levels up was a long way to climb if Hehx was having trouble on a level surface. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was easy; he just had to keep in mind that the alternative to success was prison or death, and the way forward was clear.

He looked Hehx over, estimating that she couldn’t be much more than fifty kilos. “Climb on my back,” he said. “I can carry you.”

Hehx looked doubtfully at him, then looked up the ladder for a long moment. “Yeah, alright,” she relented.

They ascended as quickly as Sivath could manage in a chokehold. “Can’t . . . breathe,” he gasped somewhere around the 22nd rung.

“Better hurry then,” Hehx suggested. “If you pass out, you’ll probably fall to your death.”

Sivath made it to deck four, barely. Dragging himself and his passenger up over the lip of the ladder shaft, he dumped his cargo to one side and rolled the other way, sucking in great lungfuls of oxygen. He rolled again to his hands and knees, pulling himself into a crawlspace. Almost there now.

“When we reach your shuttle,” Sivath panted, “you need to depart immediately. You will have no trouble finding the spatial anomaly I described. Head straight for it and Heisenberg will be unable to pursue.”

“If you’re lying about these shield modifications you say you made . . .” Hehx warned.

“Then you will die,” Sivath said. “You need to trust me.”

“Don’t pretend your life wouldn’t be easier with me out of the way.”

Sivath reached the end of the crawlspace. A keypad code released the locks on the access panel, which he pushed aside. “For a time, perhaps,” he grunted as he hauled himself out. “But your death wouldn’t make your masters forget me.” He offered Hehx a hand to assist her egress.

Hehx gave him an appraising look as she straightened up creakily. “So maybe you can be reasoned with after all.”

They were standing in the cavernous space of the shuttlebay. Sivath breathed a sigh of relief. They’d made it.

Then he heard the tone of the turbolift’s arrival.

“Damn,” he said. The door didn’t open; he had welded them shut before leaving for the brig. But the pounding and shouting from the other side indicated that the security forces seeking entry were very displeased with this discovery and intent on gaining entry one way or another. “Time to go,” he told Hehx.

“Wait,” Hehx said. She trudged up the ramp to her shuttle, disappearing within. Sivath glanced nervously at the turbolift door; already he could see the surface starting to turn a rosy color as phasers tuned to their heat setting worked to melt their way through. He stepped over to one of the computer interface panels set into the walls, which was alternately flashing up random records and rebooting. Sivath used a passcode, long ago burned into his memory by brutal training, to halt the virus’s anarchic behavior for a moment and call up several specific, restricted files from the computer core. He didn’t do anything with them; the evidence that they’d been accessed at all would be enough. He let the virus resume its mischief.

Sivath jogged up the ramp after Hehx, calling, “It’s now or never!” He nearly ran into Hehx coming back from the living area. She pressed something into his palm. He looked down to find himself holding a metal cylinder, about ten centimeters long and two in diameter. He wondered where this one had been stashed.

“We’ll be in touch,” Hehx said. She patted him on the cheek. “You’re a good boy. Stay out of trouble.”

Continued in Part IV

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Quicksand, Part II

Quicksand

Part II

“Commander, I’m picking up a distress beacon. Ping only.”

Sivath straightened in the captain’s chair. He had just been pondering how he was going to find a new variation on “no notable discoveries” for his next log entry after two weeks of fruitlessly combing the Japori Sector. Apart from some curious subspace disruptions which were defying Loh’at’s attempts to catalogue them, there had been precious little to report.

“Location?” Sivath asked. He was a Starfleet officer, so it was his duty to help any vessel in distress; yet he was also deeply grateful for a break from the monotony of scanning the void.

“Approximately two parsecs from the Suliban Helix system, sir,” ops reported. “Our present course will take us within 0.35 light years of the source.”

“Hail them.”

A brief pause. “No response.”

“Continue hailing and adjust course to intercept. How long to reach the source at maximum warp?”

“About 26 minutes, sir,” helm reported.

Sivath opened his mouth to confirm, but stopped short. His suspicious mind was turning.

“Engage maximum warp, sir?” helm asked.

“No,” Sivath said quickly. “Warp five.”

“Five, sir?” ops asked.

“One cannot set a trap without bait,” Sivath said. He tapped his communicator. “Bridge to Captain Bao.”

“Bao here,” the response followed.

“We have detected a distress beacon near Suliban Helix. Heisenberg is moving to assist, but I have set a cautious pace to give us time to scan for threats.”

“I’m on my way up. Please alert Lieutenant Nim as well.”

Sivath gave a nod to tactical, who made the summons on his behalf. He rose, stretching his legs. “I want continuous sensor sweeps until we arrive.” He folded his hands behind his back reflexively. He was eager to see what they would find. Perhaps this was the break they needed in their investigation. Perhaps when Heisenberg went back to studying quasars, Nim would find a more suitable assignment.

The turbolift doors opened eight minutes later.

“Captain on the bridge!” Sivath called out.

Bao and Nim stepped out together. “At ease, everyone,” Bao said halfway through the synchronized rise of every officer on the bridge. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

Sivath stepped aside from the captain’s chair. “Starfleet regulations–” Sivath began to say.

Bao cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Not today. Anything on sensors?” He dropped heavily into his seat. Nim exchanged a few quiet words with the tactical officer on duty before relieving him and taking his station.

“I’m picking up a small craft on long range sensors now, sir,” ops reported. “It appears to be the source of the beacon. Readings at this range are inconclusive but it looks like a Ferengi shuttle dead in the water.”

“No other threats on scope?” Nim asked.

“Negative, just more subspace chop here and there. Can’t find any reason for it. This area’s pretty empty, there aren’t a lot of hiding places to stage an ambush from.”

“Glad to hear it,” Bao said. “Keep scanning, don’t want to get caught with our trousers down.”

Sivath took his place in the first officer’s chair. Captain Bao shifted in his seat, making himself comfortable. A busy quiet settled upon the bridge as a half dozen people separately went about their work. Those without immediate responsibilities waited for new developments in silence. Mostly.

Bao leaned toward Sivath. “Happen to catch the game?” He spoke in a conspiratorial hush that nevertheless managed to carry to every corner of the bridge.

“Rakantha won in overtime, sir,” Sivath replied. The captain was an avid follower of Bajoran springball and he liked to be able to talk sports with his officers, so Sivath kept abreast of the latest developments. Bao scowled. He was a Hedrikspool fan.

Sivath caught Nim watching him again. She held his gaze for a moment, her expression amused, before returning her attention to the console before her.

=/\=

When Heisenberg dropped out of warp, both the captain and Sivath rose from their seats. “Report,” Bao said.

“Confirmed Ferengi shuttle, sir, operating without main power. It’s adrift. Life support still functional, one life sign aboard. Still not answering hails. It may be that the shuttle’s comm systems are down. Maybe to conserve power, maybe damaged by whatever took the engines offline.”

“Tactical assessment?” Bao asked Nim.

“Weapons and engines are offline, no unexpected hazardous materials detected on board. The shuttle’s no threat. No sign of any other presence in our vicinity.”

“Commander, your thoughts?”

Sivath thought carefully about his response. His gut told him that this craft was trouble, but he had no rational justification for it. “There is no indication at this time that the shuttle is anything but a stranded vessel in need of aid. We are duty-bound to assist.”

“Agreed. Tractor the shuttle in.”

“Sir,” interjected Nim. “With all due respect, I think that would be premature. Let me beam over with a security team first.”

“Very well. Take two security officers and a medic over. Can’t be too careful.”

=/\=

An hour later, Sivath stepped out of the turbolift into the shuttle bay. The Ferengi shuttle sat on the landing pad, having cleared Nim’s inspection. Its’ sole occupant had been a Ferengi woman who reportedly blamed her engine trouble on the cheating ship dealer who sold her the shuttle. While she was being checked over by the ship’s medical staff, the captain had asked Dayr to look into the cause of the malfunction. Sivath volunteered to help; the alternative was scanning empty space some more.

He found Dayr already at work as he ascended the ramp and entered the shuttle. The lanky Rivosian engineer had removed a wall panel and was rooting around inside. “No mystery here,” he said when he caught sight of Sivath. “Noticed bubbling in panel finish. Burned out catalyzer in port compression coil. Heat buildup melted shielding on EPS conduit, here. Flow disrupted, no choice but to dump antimatter core.” He yanked at the scorched part, pulling it free on the third tug. Dayr gracefully redirected the extra momentum of the pull into tossing it to Sivath.

Sivath caught the part and turned it over in his hands. “This appears to be a nitrium-chrondite catalyzer,” he observed. “One does not often see them in service anymore.”

“For this reason exactly,” Dayr agreed. “Small power spike, disaster. Fortunate that pilot reacted quickly.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Sivath set to work helping Dayr check the shuttle’s EPS conduits and plasma shunts, verifying the integrity of each. They went over the intermix chamber and the plasma injectors, inspecting that these were intact down the molecular level. By the time they were done they had disassembled much of the shuttle’s interior, but had verified that the damage could have been much worse.

“Last thing,” Dayr said, straightening up as much as the low ceiling permitted. “Captain mentioned communication trouble.”

“That is correct. The shuttle did not respond to Heisenberg’s hails. Nothing we have observed would account for that.”

“Insufficient battery power?” Dayr suggested.

“That hypothesis was proposed. I will locate the backup cells.”

Sivath picked up a tricorder and recalibrated it to scan for energy signatures. He began sweeping it around the dismantled cargo area while Dayr set to putting things back in order. Finding nothing, Sivath drifted toward the fore, where the living quarters and cockpit were.

The shuttle’s living quarters were modest and efficient. Various creature comforts indicated that this space was the pilot’s home for long stretches of time, but also exposed how light she travelled. Sivath was reminded somewhat of his own quarters, though those seemed spacious by comparison.

Sivath swept the tricorder back and forth. A small spike appeared in the reading. Sivath paused and swept slowly back in the other direction. There. The signature was faint, coming from behind the dresser. He set the tricorder on top and stooped to shift it away from the wall. Removing the panel there, he was perplexed to find blank bulkhead behind it. Sivath picked up the tricorder again, but could not find the reading when pointing its field at the wall.

He found it when he pointed the tricorder at the dresser.

Cautiously, Sivath opened the top drawer. Beneath the clothing, in a compartment hidden by a false bottom panel, Sivath found a disruptor pistol and a compact subspace transceiver. The transceiver was a metal cylinder, ten centimeters long and two in diameter. There were dull bands at each end which he knew would pulse with green light if it detected an incoming signal on its dedicated frequency. Sivath knew this because it was identical in every respect to the one he had disintegrated two weeks before.

Horror dawned slowly on Sivath. Devices of this particular design were not available to the public. They were manufactured in limited quantities by–no, he stopped himself from finishing that thought. But it was quite impossible that the Ferengi pilot of this vessel would have one unless she, too, got it from the same source Sivath had.

“Commander, observe,” Dayr called form the cargo area. Startled, Sivath stuffed the cylinder hastily into his pocket and shut the drawer. He put his shoulder into the dresser to force it back into position as quickly and quietly as possible. Sivath parted the curtains and returned, tricorder in hand.

Dayr, instead of putting the cargo area back together, had pried up several more panels. He was crouched astride a gap in the floor, fiddling with wires running alongside one of the EPS conduits they had checked for defects earlier. As Sivath approached, Dayr pointed.

“Look, here.”

Sivath crouched. He felt the weight of the cylinder in his pocket shift and moved a hand to steady it as subtly as he could. Luckily Dayr was focused on the cabling in the floor. Looking where Dayr indicated, he saw that there was a line splice in the electrical grid. It was obviously a quick patch job, but it wasn’t obvious where the offshoot line led, as it disappeared under the EPS conduit almost immediately.

“A curious place for a splice,” Sivath said dutifully. It was an oddity, but he wasn’t sure what about it was so interesting to Dayr.

The chief engineer reached down and grasped the offshoot with a long thumb and forefinger. The cable was striped red and black. Gently, Dayr pulled the line back and forth, but Sivath could not see motion anywhere past the point where the line went under the conduit. With his other hand, Dayr pointed toward an open panel on the wall, the one that he had been inspecting when Sivath came aboard. There Sivath could see a thin red and black cable wiggling slightly. It terminated at the port compression coil.

“The catalyzer ground,” Sivath breathed.

“Caused burn out,” Dayr affirmed.

Sivath lurched to his feet and touched his communicator. He opened his mouth and then shut it. What could he do? He didn’t want Nim crawling around this place any more than Dayr, but now that Dayr had called his attention to the line splice what choice did he have? His stomach turned as he said, “Sivath to Captain Bao.”

“Bao here, go ahead.”

“Lieutenant Commander Dayr has determined the cause of the the Ferengi shuttle’s malfunction to be . . .” He swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “. . . sabotage.”

“Are you absolutely certain?” the captain asked. Then he said, “Sorry, dumb question. Lieutenant Nim will have a word with our guest. Good work, both of you.”

Sivath looked to Dayr. “I have questions of my own for the pilot.”

“Will remain, finish repairs,” Dayr said.

Sivath left the shuttle at a determined clip. Halfway to the turbolift, he remembered the cylinder in his pocket. With a furtive glance to confirm that he was not observed, Sivath withdrew the device. He didn’t have the time or tools at hand to overload it, so disintegration was out of the question. There was another means of disposal handy, however. Sivath wound his right arm across his body and winged the subspace transceiver at the shuttlebay’s forcefield. The cylinder spun through the air, glinting, until it hit the field with a soft shimmer. It was visible for a brief moment, a rapidly shrinking glimmer in the darkness. Then it was gone.

Sivath took the turbolift to deck four. He hoped desperately that he wasn’t too late. If Nim got her hands on the Ferengi before he did . . . Sivath avoided finishing the thought. Nim might be close. It took every scrap of self control in his soul not to sprint down the corridor.

He felt the ship roll a bit. It was just a momentary sensation, but he knew it was out of place. Without breaking stride, he slapped his chest. “Sivath to Dayr. Did you feel that?”

“Felt it, Commander,” Dayr responded immediately. “Possible problem with inertial dampers.”

“Don’t speculate, be certain,” Sivath said. He reached sickbay at a pace just below a jog.

Inside, the medical staff was standing at the edges of the room, looking on as Nim, flanked by two security officers, placed an elderly Ferengi woman in handcuffs. “Just what am I accused of?” the woman asked.

“For now, deliberately sabotaging your shuttle to trick a Starfleet vessel to bring you aboard, thereby interfering with its mission,” Nim explained reasonably. “But give me a little time and I’m sure I’ll have more for you.”

Seizing one of the old woman’s arms, Nim marched the Ferengi out the door. One of the security officers followed; the other stayed behind to tinker with a computer screen near the spot where the Ferengi had been arrested.

Sivath backed away from the open door to make way for passage. Nim spared him a glance and said, “It’s under control, Commander.” The old woman hustled along beside Nim held Sivath’s gaze as she passed. In a moment they were disappearing down the corridor, and Sivath was left feeling confused. There had been something in the Ferengi’s eyes, some spark of familiarity or recognition, that he could not understand. He had never seen her before in his life. Did she know him, somehow?

Now she was in Nim’s clutches. The answers Sivath needed would have to wait. Perhaps–

The floor lurched beneath him. Sivath staggered but found his balance again. That was no problem with inertial dampers.

The red alert lights came on. Captain Bao’s voice came on over the ship’s intercom. “All hands, red alert! This is not a drill!”

=/\=

In the time it took Sivath to reach the bridge, three more quakes followed, each more violent than the last. Sivath tumbled out of the turbolift as the latest tremor struck, grabbing hold of the railing that circumscribed the central command area. All around him, people were similarly clinging to consoles and other convenient anchors as violent turbulence rocked the ship.

Sivath didn’t need to ask what the cause was. On the main viewscreen, a giant, angry-looking blob of orange energy boiled against the starfield. “What is that?” Sivath shouted.

“Working on it!” Loh’at snapped. She was hunched over the science station, legs hooked around the support column beneath her chair.

The tremor subsided. The bridge crew relaxed, slightly.

“The anomaly appeared out of nowhere,” Captain Bao asserted with a slightly defensive tone, as though he could somehow be blamed for this.

“Reading level nine gravimetric distortions in local subspace, Captain,” ops said. This triggered a tingle in Sivath’s mind; an echo of a recollection, dusty and dim.

“Captain,” helm called out. “It looks like the anomaly is homing in on us. I’ve been attempting to back off, but its vector is adjusting to follow.”

“It’s chasing us?” Bao asked incredulously.

Another wave hit the ship. Sivath had descended into the command area and now had to grab hold of his seat to keep from losing his balance. This quake was noticeably stronger and longer than the last. It wouldn’t be long before the gravimetric shear would become a threat to Heisenberg’s structural integrity.

“It’s attracted to us,” Loh’at corrected testily. “It’s reeling us in; we’re towing it around.”

“Not for long!” the captain declared. “Helm, take us to warp three.”

“Already tried it, Captain,” helm replied in a hopeless tone. “Can’t even form a warp field.”

“That’s the gravimetric interference,” Loh’at interjected. Now Sivath was sure this sounded familiar; he tried to focus on the memory, clarify it by force of will. It was like trying to grab smoke.

“We’re stuck with impulse power,” helm continued, “and even that’s sluggish.”

“Engine room reporting diminished power output from the warp core,” ops reported.

“I’m running away as fast as I can, Captain. It’s still gaining on us.”

“What happens if it catches us?” Bao demanded, grim-faced.

“This grav shear is going to tear us apart before it even touches us, sir,” Nim called from the tactical station.

“And if that doesn’t kill us, the EM radiation will,” Loh’at added. “At the rate it’s climbing, emission levels will become dangerous in six minutes and lethal in ten.”

“Only bad things, then,” Bao summarized. “And we can’t get away from it, so we need to neutralize it. I need options, people.”

“I have a full salvo of photon torpedoes loaded for bear, Captain.”

“Do you think that will help?”

“No,” Nim admitted, “but it’s an option.”

A desperate silence settled upon the bridge. Then another wave hit. Sivath clung to the arms of his first officer’s chair for dear life. On screen, the ovoid anomaly rippled and rolled toward them, growing with each second. A spark from his attempts to rekindle his memory caught. “Sir!” he called out. “I think I know what this is. It’s called a graviton ellipse.”

“Excellent, son,” Bao said with forced patience. “Now explain how that helps us.”

Sivath shook his head mutely. That was all he had.

“Damn it, he’s right,” Loh’at growled. “I would have figured it out in another minute, if I could just–”

What does that mean, Lieutenant?” Bao pressed.

“We need to cut power and reverse our shield polarity immediately,” she said. Her fingers were already flying across the console before her.

“Bridge to engineering! We need to shut down the warp core.”

“Acknowledged, bridge,” Dayr’s voice responded. “Stand by.”

“Shields flipped, sir,” Loh’at reported.

“Core power shutdown initiated, Captain,” Dayr reported.

“It seems to be helping!” helm called out. “The anomaly’s net gain is diminished, but . . .”

“It’s still pulling on us,” Loh’at interrupted. “We need to lose more power.”

“Shut down everything but emergency power, engineering,” Bao ordered.

Another wave hit. The lights dimmed, and for a moment Sivath thought some damage might have been done. But Dayr clarified, “Operating at minimum power, Captain.”

“Impulse power is gone,” helm reported. “We’re drifting at roughly a quarter impulse. The anomaly does not appear to be pursuing.”

“We’ve neutralized the ellipse’s attraction effect, sir,” Loh’at confirmed. “We’re still going to feel the gravimetric interference waves for a while yet, but they’ll lose intensity as we skate away.”

“So what now?” the captain asked.

“According to Starfleet records, a graviton ellipse lurks around in subspace until a big enough mass teases it out. The effect only lasts a matter of hours, though; it should collapse back into subspace soon, at which point it will be safe to power up and warp away.”

“Leaving a great big ‘wet floor’ sign behind us,” the captain chuckled nervously. “Good job, everyone.”

The bridge crew collectively breathed a sigh of relief.

“Captain,” Sivath said, prying his fingers free of the impressions he’d left in his armrests. “It would seem that we have discovered the likely cause of the disappearances in this sector.”

Bao whistled. “A stellar hazard invisible to sensors until you stumble right into it, and then it’s got you no matter how hard you struggle. It’s like quicksand. Alright, everyone. Stand down to yellow alert and advise all departments to expect further bumps for a while yet. Those you who are supposed to be off duty, get off my bridge. Get some R and R while there’s nothing better to do.”

Nim approached, stepping down into the command area. “Captain, would this be a good time to report on the Ferengi situation?”

“Oh, if you must,” Bao replied with a sigh.

Sivath rose from his seat, steadying himself as another wave struck. He tried to find a way to hang around without hanging on Nim’s words. Thankfully, Loh’at gave him the pretext he needed. “I would have gotten it,” she said, coming to stand beside him. She folded her arms and nodded at the viewscreen.

Sivath studied the ellipse. “I do not doubt it.”

“–a spy on our hands, sir,” Nim was saying. “I found her accessing the computer in her examination room. She’d bypassed security somehow and was scrolling through personnel–”

“How did a grease monkey like you even hear about a graviton ellipse?” Loh’at asked. “It’s an obscure bit of trivia even to science officers.”

“That’s a serious accusation, Lieutenant,” Bao said. “You’re suggesting that our guest tricked us into bringing her onboard to . . . what?”

Nim replied, “I don’t know yet, sir. She’s hard to read, her thoughts are evasive. Might have telepathic counter-intrusion training. I’m leaving her to stew in the brig for a bit before I interrogate her.”

Sivath knew an opportunity when he heard one. In response to Loh’at’s question, he said, “I was attending the academy when the USS Voyager returned from the Delta Quadrant. The crew logs were a wealth of interesting reading for my classmates and myself.”

“I keep forgetting you’re old,” Loh’at said.

Bao was saying, “–keep me informed. As you were, Lieutenant.”

As the captain left the bridge, Nim stood for a moment and then turned to face Sivath and Loh’at. She approached with an exaggerated casual posture. “So, not much to do but wait. Could I buy the two of you a drink?”

Was Nim trying to be friendly? Sivath found it unnerving. He opened his mouth to decline.

“Love one,” Loh’at said first. “Though I think the tradition is that the senior officer buys. Isn’t that right, Commander?”

Both women looked to Sivath. He said, “Perhaps another time.”

=/\=

The corridors were strangely quiet. Sivath supposed many had had the same idea as Nim and Loh’at, heading for the lounge while the ship wait out the ellipse. He strode down the dim hallways of deck six, feeling strangely emboldened by the gloom of emergency power lighting. Covert business like this was best conducted in the shadows.

Sivath entered the brig at a deliberate clip. He was crisp, businesslike, in command. “At ease, Ensign,” he said to the security officer on duty. “I would like a word with the prisoner. Please wait outside and see that I am not interrupted.”

The guard left with a hasty “Yessir.” Sivath took a deep breath. He walked to cell three.

Inside, an old Ferengi woman looked up at him. She was perched on the edge of her bunk, but she rose to her feet now, stepping closer to the invisible barrier between them.

“Well well. Jolan tru, deletham.” The woman was speaking to Sivath in Romulan: Greetings, comrade.

Continued in Part III

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Quicksand, Part I

Quicksand

Part I

Sivath had to keep his unease in check. The problem with telepaths, though, was that they could usually tell you were doing it. It wasn’t enough for Sivath to avoid thinking the wrong kinds of thoughts; he had to avoid thinking about not thinking the wrong thing.

“Deck seven,” he announced with his habitual exaggerated precision. He stepped out of the turbolift and into the corridor. “Main engineering. Warp core. Main deflector. Torpedo launchers. Tractor beam emitters. Junior crew quarters.” He strode forward with purpose; the only emotion he allowed himself was a mild impatience to finish this tour and return to real work.

“All on deck seven?” asked Nim, Heisenberg’s new chief of security. “How convenient.” It was clear from her tone what she meant.

“Having reviewed your service record, I judge you to be a resilient and adaptable Starfleet officer,” Sivath replied. “I am certain that you will adapt to serving aboard such a small vessel.”

“I’ve never known a Vulcan to use sarcasm,” Nim observed.

Continue reading »

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Quicksand

Quicksand

A Star Trek fan fic short story.

Chapters: I, II, III, IV, Epilogue

The first officer of the USS Heisenberg has a secret. The ship’s new Betazoid chief of security is intent on uncovering it. And a mysterious guest arriving in the middle of a dangerous mission puts a match to the fuse. A tale of divided loyalty set in the twenty-fifth century (Star Trek Online era). Approx. 17K words.

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Prisoners Of Time

Prisoners Of Time

by David Downey

 

Captain’s log, stardate 6011.5.  The Enterprise has been sent to Tau Delta, a previously unexplored system, to investigate the disappearance of scout ship USS Crockett.  We are beginning our search at Tau Delta II, which has an atmosphere that is curiously resistant to our sensors.

“Achieved standard orbit,” announced Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu at the helm.

From his command chair at the center of the bridge of the USS Enterprise, Captain James Kirk surveyed the planet displayed on the main view screen.  Tau Delta II was an Earth-sized world, its atmosphere a thick sheen of green.  “Now that we’re closer, let’s try it again,” he said.  “Maximum power to the sensors.  Commence sensor sweep of the planet.”

“Captain, I’m detecting a faint emission of tachyons between us and the planet,” reported First Officer Spock, stooped over his science station’s scope, its glow casting his lean face blue.

“Does it pose a danger?” Kirk asked.

“No.  Its power output is equivalent to that of a tricorder.”

“Keep an eye on it.”

Lieutenant Nyota Uhuru pivoted in her chair towards Kirk, her lithe fingers pressed against her earpiece.  “Captain, we’re being hailed from the planet.”

“On screen,” said Kirk.

A gaunt humanoid head appeared on the bridge’s main screen.  The alien’s most distinctive feature was a pair of large crescent-shaped ridges on its forehead, above where a human’s eyebrows normally were.  Despite its receding salt-and-pepper hair and strong nose, Kirk suspected the humanoid was a female of the species, judging from fullness of her lips and the slight swell of her bosom.  (I do have a knack for picking out alien women, Kirk wryly admitted to himself.)

“Orbiting spaceship: Are you receiving this transmission?” the humanoid asked.

The alien’s shrill voice confirmed Kirk’s suspicions on her gender.  “Yes, we are receiving you.”

“Outstanding.  It’s exceedingly difficult to send signals through the shield.”  The silvery fabric draped below the humanoid’s loose-fitting banded collar seemed to glimmer transparent, revealing the chair back behind her.

“Uhuru, try cleaning up the signal,” Kirk muttered to his communications officer.  Then addressing the alien, he said, “A shield?  Do you mean your planet’s opaque atmosphere?”

“Yes, we call it the Forever Shield.  It has existed since this world was a molten protoplanet, and will continue to exist until its sun goes nova.  Nothing tangible can pass through it.”

“What’s the purpose of this ‘Forever Shield’, Ms….?”

“My name is unpronounceable in your tongue.  And who am I addressing?”

“I’m Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise, representing the United Feder—“

“—Federation of Planets.  Yes, I am acquainted with your Federation.”

Kirk was instantly on guard.  “So you have encountered Federation ships before?”

“Sir, the communication is pristine,” said Uhuru.  “That’s the image we’re receiving from the planet.”

“Ah, my shifting appearance,” said the humanoid.  “My kind have the ability to alter spacetime with the power of our minds.”

Spock stood upright from his science station.  “Captain, the tachyon source is exponentially increasing in strength.”

“Yellow alert!” ordered Kirk.  Then to the alien, he asked “Are you the cause of the tachyons near our ship?”

“Yes, we are.”

The Enterprise shook.

“We are caught on a wave a spacetime induced by the tachyons,” said Spock.

“Red alert.  Full impulse.  Get us out of here!”  Kirk turned to the image of the humanoid.  “What do you know of the USS Crockett?”

A large smile unfurled on the alien’s face.  “I know that you will soon meet them.”

“Impulse engines are ineffective,” said Sulu.

“I suspect the alien hailed us to distract us from this phenomenon,” surmised Spock.  “The spacetime waves are forming into a whirlpool.  We are being dragged to its center.”

“Mr. Sulu, heading 321-mark-42.  Warp factor 7!”

“Helm’s not responding!”

“Captain, a warp field bubble has appeared around the Enterprise.  It’s nullifying our own warp field,” piped Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott’s voice through Kirk’s armrest controls.  “I canna’ explain it!”

“Oh, I forgot to mention: we also have the innate power to control warp fields,” the humanoid said with obvious relish.

“Chekov, fire phasers and photon torpedoes into the center of the whirlpool!”

“Weapons fired,” Ensign Pavel Chekov said over the din of the straining impulse engines and red alert klaxons.  “Captain, they just disappeared into it.  No effect!”

“And firing phasers and photon torpedoes at the ‘Forever Shield’ would likewise prove ineffective,” Spock added, as if reading his captain’s thoughts of attempting to threaten the aliens into halting the whirlpool.

“Goodbye, Captain Kirk,” was the last thing the humanoid imparted before the Enterprise was swept into the eye of the whirlpool.

***

All was suddenly calm.

“Damage report!” demanded Kirk.

“All decks reporting in.  No damage.  No casualties,” Uhura answered, not hiding the relief in her voice.

The ship buffeted.

“Our deflectors struck something,” Spock said from his science station.  “We’re travelling at full impulse.”

“Are we free of the whirlpool?” Kirk asked.

“The whirlpool is gone.”

“All stop.  What did we hit?”

“Wreckage,” replied Spock.  “The remains of the USS Crockett.”

“Any life signs?” Kirk asked, fearing the answer.

“None.”

Kirk sighed.  “What caused her destruction?”

“The nature of the debris points to a battle.”

“Against the Klingons?”  Tau Delta was close to Klingon space, Kirk knew.

“Inconclusive.”

“So where the devil are we?”

“I’ve been trying to calculate that, sir” Sulu said, busy with his helm controls.  “It doesn’t make sense.  All the stars are off.”

“’The stars are off?’  What exactly does that mean?”

“I share Mr. Sulu’s puzzlement.  The galaxy’s stars are not where they should be,” Spock concurred, hunched over his scope.  “We should be near Tau Delta, but we’re not.  Working on it…”

“In the meantime, Uhuru, contact Starfleet.  Update them on our status.”

“Captain, it’s strange.  I can’t hail Starfleet.  In fact, I’m not getting any Federation communication.  It’s as if it doesn’t exist.”

“For some reason, we can’t contact Starfleet.  We don’t know what destroyed the Crockett.  And we don’t even know where we are.  Can someone on this bridge please tell me something that that we do know?” groused Kirk.

“A ship has entered sensor range,” announced Spock, seemingly oblivious to Kirk’s rant.

“Klingon?”

“Negative.  It is of unknown designation and design.”

Great, another mystery, Kirk wanted to snap.

“It’s hailing us.”

“On screen.”

A sturdy human in a severe black uniform with a bright red armband materialized on the viewscreen.  I’ve seen that uniform, that symbol on the armband, before, Kirk knew.  On planet Ekos.  Worn by John Gill.  “Nazis,” he muttered.

“This is Captain Bettenhauser of the Reich battleship Dönitz,” proclaimed the man on the screen.  “What is your role in all this?”

In a subdued voice, Uhura said, “Captain, according to the universal translator, he’s speaking in an unknown dialect of archaic German.”

“I’m Captain Kirk of the Federation starship Enterprise,” he addressed Bettenhauser.  “Are you responsible for the destruction of the USS Crockett?”

“Ah, another ship dispatched against us,” spat Captain Bettenhauser.  “We shall defeat you and any other ship sent against us until we are sent back.”  The screen reverted back to a sea of stars.

“The Dönitz has cut off communication with us,” said Uhuru, just as the Enterprise rocked from an impact.

“Status!”

“We’ve been struck by a phaser-like weapon, though significantly more powerful,” replied Spock.  “Fortunately, our shields were still up.  But they are down to 67%.”

“Attack pattern Beta Kirk.  Fire phasers!”

“Direct hit!” cried Chekov.

“Their shields buckled,” added Spock.  “No, they’re back up to 89%.  Their shields must’ve been damaged during their battle with the Crockett.”

At least the Crockett went down fighting, thought Kirk.

*

Kapitän Juergen Bettenhauser punched the button on his armrest connecting him to Engineering.  “Fix our erratic shields, once and for all!”

“Kapitän, right now we’re working stabilizing the graviton generators.  Plus our computer firewalls are down—”

“Engineer, here are your priorities: Weapons, shields, engines, in that order.  Everything else waits until we’re at port.”

“Yes, s—“

Bettenhauser killed the connection.  “Idiot!”  Then turning to his bridge, he ordered, “Attack vector 55.  Fire beams!”

“Missed.”

“Damn it!”  This Enterprise is far more maneuverable than us, but its weapons and shields are weak.  It should be easy prey.  Just like the Crockett was.  Might always prevails!  Bettenhauser knew.  But studying the tactical holo (projecting out of his armrest) of the Enterprise firing on the Dönitz, then darting away before the battleship could get a weapons lock, he had to grudgingly admit that his opposing captain’s tactics were inspired, even brilliant.  “Kommandant, analyze their attack and come up effective counterattack.”

“Sir, I was concentrating on figuring out why all the stars are not in their proper locations.”

“Stop wasting your time with that!”

“Sir, I believe it is the key to why the aliens sent us here.”

“Kommandant, I order you to drop all that star nonsense and devise a counterstrike.  Now!”

*

The bridge quaked.

“Our shields are down to 35%,” said Spock.

“Evasive maneuvers.  Pattern gamma four!”  Then turning to his science officer, Kirk asked, “Is that why the aliens sent us here?  To have us fight to the death in some sort of arena?  As Bettenhauser thinks?  Could it be something that simple?  That barbaric?”

Just as Spock was about to answer, the Enterprise shuddered.

“Shields down.  The next hit will breach our hull.”  Spock’s matter-of-fact tone was at odds with the direness of his words.

On the tactical display on his chair’s companel, Kirk recognized a piece of the USS Crockett’s wreckage in the Dönitz’s flight path.  “Chekov, target phasers on the remains of the Crockett’s warp core.”  He punched on the shipwide intercom on his armrest.  “All decks: brace for impact.”  Then back to his weapons officer, he ordered, “Fire!”

The last thing Kirk saw on his tactical display, before he was thrown out of his chair, was the warp core detonating just as the Dönitz neared it.

“Damage report!” Kirk demanded as he got back to his feet.

“Decks 4, 5, and 15 reporting minor damage,” replied Uhura as she returned to her own chair, her earpiece still in place.

Sulu somehow managed to remain at the helm.  “Impulse engines offline,” he answered.

“And the Dönitz?”

*

This Captain Kirk is the devil!  “Status report!” barked Bettenhauser, as he peeled himself off the deck and back into his command chair.

“The warp core detonation brought our shields down,” relayed the Kommandant.  “Major hull breach on deck four.  But sublight engines and all weapons are fully operational.”

“And the Enterprise?”

“Its shields and sublight engines are down.”

Bettenhauser smiled.  For all the cleverness of this captain and the deftness of his ship, it’s all for naught.  The Enterprise is defenseless, a lamb ripe for slaughter.  “Hard about.  All beams and missiles on the Enterprise!”

“Kapitän, I have discovered the reason why all the stars have shifted!”

“How dare you disregard my order of dropping that inquiry!” Bettenhauser raged.  “How can your petty little discovery possibly be more important than our impending victory over that enemy ship?”

“Actually sir, it is infinitely more important.”

*

Kirk watched the main viewscreen in horror, as the crippled Dönitz—a squat wedge with a pair of warp nacelles snug against its sides—turned to face the Enterprise, undoubtedly preparing to fire.

“Mr Sulu, get us out of here!  Warp factor—“

Then abruptly, the battleship looped away.

“They’re retreating?” Kirk asked in disbelief.

“Negative,” replied Spock, standing up from his science station.  “They must have just likewise realized why all the stars are displaced.  I have just deduced that the stars are located as they were 329 years ago.  The whirlpool did not send us through space.  It sent us through time.”

Three-hundred twenty nine years ago! Kirk feverishly calculated.  The Earth year of 1940 AD.  At the beginning of the Second World War!  “Where is that Nazi ship heading?” he asked, dreading the answer.

Spock extrapolated the Dönitz’s course.  “To sector 001: Earth.”

***

Captain’s log supplemental: Transported back to the ancient Earth year of 1940, the Enterprise is in pursuit of a Nazi starship of unknown origin.  If the ship reaches Earth, it can change the course of history and wipe us, and the Federation, out of existence.

“Time to intercept?” Kirk asked.

“We’ll be in weapons range just as the Dönitz reaches Earth, in 15 minutes,” Chekov replied.

“That’s not good enough.”  Kirk stabbed the button on his command chair connecting him with engineering.  “Scotty, warp factor 9.”

“Captain, from all the damage we sustained, I’m struggling to keep the Enterprise from flying apart just at warp 8.”

“Scotty, if we don’t travel faster than warp 8, there won’t be an Enterprise to fly apart.”

“Aye, captain,” Scotty sighed before cutting the connection.

“What’s the status of the Dönitz?”

“Besides matching our speed, they’re ignoring us, Captain” Spock replied.  “Obviously their warp drive is fully operational.  Their shields are down, probably to conserve power.  They’ve undoubtedly surmised that they are safely out of our weapons range.  They were venting atmosphere, but they seemed to have patched—“

“Captain, it may be because their shields are down, or maybe it’s due to the damaged they sustained, but I can access the Dönitz computer systems!”

Kirk sprung up from his chair and stood by his communications officer.  “Any way we can drop them out of warp?”

“No, I’m locked out of their critical systems.  But I have hacked into their library files.  Downloading…”

*

“Kapitän, I’m detecting a computer breach.”

“Source?”

“Apparently the Enterprise has accessed our transceiver,” the Kommandant replied.  “Since our firewalls are down—“

“Do they have access to any control systems?”

“Negative.  Just pure data.”

Bettenhauser yawned.  “It’s of no importance.”

*

“Scanning the information Lieutenant Uhura is downloading…,” Spock reported from his science station.  “Fascinating.  Apparently the Dönitz comes from a star empire that calls itself the Fifth Reich.  This Fifth Reich is an extremely militaristic and xenophobic empire.  In their reality, they have conquered Andoria, Orion…”  Spock paused.  “…Vulcan, as well as the Romulans.  And they have just surprise attacked the Klingons at the Gamma Hydra system.  After the successful battle, the Dönitz was ordered to scout the surrounding newly acquired systems for resources to aid in their war effort.  That’s when it encountered the spacetime aliens and was sent here, like us.”

“Spock, how did this Fifth Reich come about?”

“Captain, we are approaching Earth,” announced Sulu.

Dönitz on screen,” ordered Kirk as he returned to his seat.

On the main screen, the rectangular aft of the Reich ship was just straightening itself out after clearing the craggy curve of the Moon.  With its two nacelles at its sides, the rear of the ship reminded Kirk of a light 10 Kg dumbbell.  The deep blue disk of the Earth was growing alarmingly ahead of it.

“When we are in phaser and photon torpedo range, weapons free, Chekov.”

“Captain, the Earth is directly behind the Dönitz.  If a phaser or torpedo misses…”

“Then don’t miss, Mr. Chekov.  But stop that ship!”

“In range.  Firing!”

“The Dönitz is opening fire on Earth,” Spock said emotionlessly.

Uhura brought her hand to her mouth.  “Dear Lord…”

“They’re entering Earth’s atmosphere,” said Sulu.  “They’re not slowing down!”

Kirk was leaning forward in his chair, his hands gripping its armrests.  “Stay on them.”

The entire viewscreen was covered with the arid tans and fertile greens of Earth.  And in the foreground was the Dönitz—taking the occasional phaser or photon torpedo from the Enterprise—spiraling in as it launched berserker salvos of beams and missiles on the defenseless continent below.

*

I’m so smart, thought 10-year-old Max with pride.  His mom gave him 30¢: 5¢ for the bus to the movie theater, 10¢ for the show, 5¢ for soda, 5¢ for popcorn, and 5¢ for the bus ride home.  But by walking the 2 ½ miles to the theater, he saved himself 5¢ for candy too.  (And maybe even more candy if he walked the 2 ½ miles back home.)

His buddy Jerry recognized the genius of his plan and agreed to walk with him.

And this week was the latest installment of Flash Rogers: Defender of Earth!  (All his friends liked cowboy films, but Max liked all things about space.)  He just hoped Flash Rogers was the first serial they played right after the newsreels.  (The other night after supper, he overheard his pop and uncles on the front porch talking about the recent newsreels, about all the fighting in faraway Asia and Europe.   Hearing the worry in their voices made him worry too.)

“Lookie there!” Jerry shouted, pointing to the sky.

Blocking the sun with an outstretched arm, Max saw it.  A comet!  In broad daylight!  “Oh boy!” he exclaimed.  But unlike the pictures of nighttime comets he saw in books, this one had a dark smoky tail.  Maybe that’s what they look like in the daytime…

“Stuff’s coming out of it!” said Jerry.

At first Max thought Jerry meant its billowing tail, but then he saw it.  It was spitting out tiny sparks all around, like fireworks.  “Golly!”

But the sparks didn’t die out as they neared the ground.  Strangely, some got larger.  One even flew right over them, its path cutting the sky in half.

“Look, there’s another comet right behind it!” hollered Max, proud that he spotted it before Jerry.  The second comet was smaller (or perhaps it was farther).  It too was shooting sparks, but not everywhere like the bigger one; its sparks were focused on the first comet.

“This is just like Flash Rogers!” Jerry said with glee.

“No, it’s even better!” topped Max.

One spark blossomed into a blue fireball, impacting on the horizon in the direction of the movie theater.  The ground whipped, knocking the boys off their feet.

No, this is nothing like Flash Rogers, Max realized, as he began to cry.  This is real!

Another fireball was growing in the sky, burning brighter and hotter than the sun.

Mamma… Max thought as he and his hometown was vaporized by the fireball.

*

“Once we are done strafing the United States, target Great Britain and then the Soviet expanse!” the Kapitän of the Dönitz cried rapturous.  And perhaps Japan for good measure, he thought.  It would spare my ancestors a hard fought ten year war.

The Kommandant turned to his superior, his face drained of color, his expression grim.  “Kapitän, the Enterprise has destroyed our maneuvering thrusters.  We can’t pull out of our dive.”

Bettenhauser’s spirits sank from the heights of ecstasy to the depths of despair.  So this is it.  Just like I was taught in history class.  Only one thing left to do.  “Unleash our entire arsenal on the American homeland,” he ordered.

He leaned back in his chair, resigned to his fate.  I regret I’ll never see my beloved Deutschwelt again.  Then gazing at the bridge’s main screen, at the rapidly approaching terrain of Earth, he realized, No wait.  There it is.  Deutschwelt, just 300 years earlier.  I’m coming home.  He actually felt himself smile.

“For my Führer,” was Kapitän Bettenhauser’s last words.

*

The Enterprise’s viewscreen flashed bright.

“They crashed!” exclaimed Sulu.

“Pull up!”  Kirk felt himself pressed into his chair, as the inertial dampers struggled to compensate for the impulse engines straining to heave the Enterprise out of its plunge.

“We’re in low orbit around Earth,” Sulu finally said.

“No damage reported,” added Uhuru.

“And the Dönitz?  And Earth?”

“The Dönitz fired phasers and torpedoes non-stop on the North American continent up until impact,” said Spock.  “It crashed in the US state of…Iowa.  Estimated 70 million dead.”

Kirk swallowed at the image of his birth state, reduced to a glowing gash cut by the Dönitz’s impact.  As the Earth rotated under the Enterprise, it revealed a United States crisscrossed with fires and pockmarked with craters.  The oceans had already begun flooding into the seaside craters.

***

“My God.  How did this happen?” Kirk wanted to know.  “Where did that Nazi ship come from?”

“According to the library files downloaded from the Dönitz by Lt. Uhura, the United States was mysteriously wiped out in 1940,” said Spock.  “The Nazis claimed responsibility for the destruction, claiming it was due to their “super atomics” and threatened the other Allied powers to surrender or meet the same fate, which they all promptly did.  The Nazis won World War 2 in 1941.”

“But the Nazis conquering Earth doesn’t lead to a space-faring Fifth Reich.”  Kirk’s heart winced at the memory of Edith Keeler.

“Apparently, the Nazis discovering the true cause of the USA’s destruction changed that.  Learning that an extraterrestrial attack was what leveled the US fueled the Nazis’ paranoia.  After conquering all of Earth, they focused their scientific and industrial might on a Navy powered by rockets, fission, fusion, and then finally warp power.”

Kirk’s mind ached trying to make sense of temporal cause-and-effect.  “The Dönitz altering its own history brought about its own existence.”

“And condemned the Federation to non-existence.”

“Captain, a spacetime whirlpool has appeared on our starboard side,” announced Sulu.

“Full impulse, 180 degrees away from the whirlpool.  Warp factor six when we’re clear of Earth.”

“Captain, three ships have emerged from the whirlpool.  They’re on an intercept course.”

On the viewscreen, a trio of ships, each looking like an upright metallic egg perched on its narrow end, filed out of the whirlpool.  On his chair’s tactical display, Kirk witnessed the ships surround the Enterprise.

“They locked tractor beams on us,” reported Spock. “They’re wrangling us into the whirlpool.”

“Mr. Sulu, get us out of here!”

“Rerouting auxiliary power to impulse—  Aagghh!”  Feedback plasma leapt out of the helm, burning Sulu’s arm.  He crumpled to the floor.

“Bones, to the bridge!” Kirk ordered sickbay, before leaping out of his chair to Sulu’s station.  Manning the helm, Kirk saw that it was too late: the Enterprise had just been shoved into the whirlpool.

Helping Sulu up, he asked, “Where are we?  When are we?”

“We are back in our own time, in orbit around Tau Delta II,” replied Spock, turning his attention to the main screen.

Kirk followed Spock’s gaze.  Tau Delta II’s green Forever Shield was gone, revealing an arid planet, reminiscent of Mars or Vulcan.  The only respite from the intense red of its scabrous terrain was a few veiny rivers and the wisps of clouds in its thin atmosphere.  “What happened to the Forever Shield?”

“Detecting mass launches from planet,” said Spock.

“Missiles?”

“Negative.  Ships.  Thousands of them.”

“Uhuru, try hailing Starfleet.”

“Still nothing Captain.  However, I’m getting a lot of Fifth Reich and Klingon chatter on subspace.”

The Fifth Reich and no Federation? We’re in the Dönitz’s timeline, Kirk realized glumly.

Chief Medical Officer Leonard “Bones” McCoy entered the bridge.  Kirk gestured to Sulu.

“No, I’m fine,” insisted Sulu.

McCoy ignored Sulu’s protests as he whipped out his “salt shaker” medical scanner.  “You’re almost as bad of a patient as our captain,” the doctor grumbled.

“Hail the planet.”  Upon the same female alien appearing on the screen, Kirk demanded, “What have you done?!”

“I freed my people!” she replied proudly.  “We have been imprisoned here for ten millennia, behind the Forever Shield, after we failed to overthrow our misguided leaders.  They wanted our kind to be the universe’s shepherds, to use our spacetime abilities to guide the universe to a peaceful future.  Pah!  What’s the use of our powers if we don’t use it to our advantage?  And now we will show our captors on Tau Alpha C what our powers are meant do when we unleash our vengeance upon them.  And we have you to thank for that.”

Tau Alpha C?  It would take a year to travel there at maximum warp! flickered a random thought in Kirk’s mind.  “Thank us for what?” he asked.

“For removing the Forever Shield, of course.  Existing from the birth of this planet to its fiery death, that cursed barrier was designed specifically to confine us—beings that could manipulate spacetime—on Tau Delta II in your Federation-tainted universe.  But by sending you and the Dönitz back in time, we have a spawned a new universe, one with another Tau Delta II where the Forever Shield doesn’t exist.  Even as we speak, millions of my people are bridging between your timeline and this one, to a Tau Delta II without a Forever Shield, and boarding transports to flee our prison planet.  And don’t you think of interfering with our exodus, Captain.  The three sentry ships have orders to destroy you if you dare approach our world.”

“And what of our history?  What of the 70 million people you helped murder on Earth 300 years ago?!”

“I do not care about your past.  All I care about is our future.”  The alien sighed.  “I grow tired of limiting myself to this tiny window of time to continue this insipid conversation.  The only reason you are still alive is that we are indebted to you for freeing us.  So likewise, you are free to go, Captain.”

The viewscreen reverted to the hemisphere of Tau Delta II against a backdrop of stars.  Kirk could make out the first flecks of ships fleeing the planet, behind the menacing picket of the three sentry ships.  We’re free to go, he morosely thought.  Go where?  We’re a ship without a past.  Without a future.

“Bull!”

“Bones?”

“That alien is lying.  They need us alive for some reason.  And if history has been altered so that the Federation no longer exists, how is it that we’re still here?”

“Yes,” said Kirk, his despair washing away.  “Our reality must somehow still exist.  She said it herself, that her people were escaping from our Federation timeline to this one.”

“Indeed,” Spock said with a raised Vulcan eyebrow. “The aliens did make an effort to transport the Enterprise from 1940 back to this present time and reality.  Perhaps the Enterprise serves as sort of a button that fastens the two fabrics of reality together.”

“Until they’re done fleeing from the Federation fabric to this Reich fabric.  Then they’ll have no need for the button.  No need for us…” said McCoy.

“Spock, according to the Dönitz’s logs, what stardate does it encounter the spacetime aliens at Tau Delta II?”

“Checking…”  Spock stood up from his station.  “Three days from now.”  Kirk could swear there was excitement in his science officer’s voice.

“That’s why we’re still here, why we haven’t been erased from existence: the Dönitz hasn’t arrived here yet.  The possibility of our reality still exists because the Dönitz hasn’t been hurled back in time to alter history yet.”  Kirk turned back to his first officer.  “Spock, according the Dönitz’s logs, where are they now?”

“Checking…  They are currently taking part in the Reich surprise attack on the Klingons at Gamma Hydra.”

“That’s only five light years from here.  Mr. Sulu, plot a course of Gamma Hydra, warp factor 6.”

“Jim, please tell me you’re not planning to attack the Dönitz in the middle of pitched battle between the Klingons and these—these space Nazis!”

“Bones, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

***

“This is the captain.  We are about to engage the battleship Dönitz, in the midst of a battle between Reich and Klingon forces.  We have all pledged our lives to defend the Federation.  Well today, in just a few minutes, we will be doing just that.  Trillions of Federation lives that have been wiped out from existence will depend on the actions of our 430 lives.  We must not fail.  We will not fail.  For we are the finest crew in Starfleet.  Kirk out.”

The Captain punched a button on his command chair’s companel, shutting off the shipwide intercom.

“Not only are we the finest crew in Starfleet, in this nightmare universe, we are the only crew in Starfleet,” muttered McCoy.

“Uhura, have you located the Dönitz?”

“Trying to pinpoint it amid all the transponders and comms.”

“I count 39 Klingon and 81 Reich ships,” said Spock.

“What a hairball,” McCoy said under his breath.

“Located the Dönitz!  Patching coordinates to the helm.”

“Got it!” acknowledged Sulu.  “Laying in a course to intercept.”

“Red alert!  Shields up.”  Then leaning towards his navigation and weapon officers, Kirk added, “Once we’re in weapons range, drop out of warp and fire at will.”

“Aye aye, sir,” both Sulu and Chekov replied.

“Bones, report to sickbay,” the captain ordered grimly.  “Prepare for casualties.”

“Aye aye, captain.”  McCoy put a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder before leaving the bridge.

“Out of warp,” announced Sulu.  “Looks like we caught them completely by surprise.”

“Firing phasers and photon torpedoes,” said Chekov.

*

The bridge of the Dönitz quaked.

“What was that?” demanded Bettenhauser.

“Kapitän, a ship has just appeared out of warp and opened fire on us!”

“Destroy the Klingon swine!”

“Sir, it’s not Klingon.  It’s—  I don’t know what it is.  This ship does not match any known design in the Kriegsmarine data banks.”

“I don’t care if it’s a hospital ship.  Lock quantum missiles on it!”

*

“Direct hits!” cried Chekov.  “However, their shields are only down to 87%.”

“Press attack! Pattern alpha 4.  Spock, how are the other Reich ships reacting?”

“Besides the Dönitz, we are largely being ignored, probably because the Reich doesn’t recognize our ship designation.  Same holding true for the Klingons.”

The Enterprise shuddered.

“Our shields are at 64%.  The Dönitz hit us with a torpedo with a quantum zero-point energy warhead that’s far more powerful—”

“Not now, Spock!”

*

Bettenhauser turned to his communications officer.  “Broadcast the following message to the fleet: To all Reich ships…”

*

“To all Reich ships: The battleship Dönitz is under attack by a ship of unknown origin.  Request support.”

Klingon Captain Kor turned to the face of his comrade on his bridge’s main screen.  “Did you hear that?”

“I did.”

“’A ship of unknown origin’.  We have an unexpected ally in the Reich’s cowardly surprise attack on our fleet at Gamma Hydra.  Instead of rushing to the aid of our fleet, I propose we join the attack on the Dönitz!”

“My tactical officer informs me that the Dönitz is deep in the Reich’s ranks,” Captain Koloth pointed out.

“So you’re saying it’s too difficult?”

“Do not insult me!”

“The distress call from our fleet claims the first wave of the Reich attack mostly consists of frigates and destroyers.  Unworthy opponents.  But a Reich battleship…” said Kor, stroking his thin beard.

“Agreed!  Changing course to the Dönitz.”

“As am I,” said Kor, gesturing to his helmsman.  “Qapla’, brother!

Qapla’!”

*

“Sulu, what’s our status?”

“Other Reich ships are noticing our attack on the Dönitz.  They’re locking weapons on us.”

“Ignore them.  Concentrate all firepower on the Dönitz!”

The Enterprise shook.

“Shields down to 32%,” reported Spock.

The Enterprise shook again.

“Down to %4.”

*

So that is the ‘ship of unknown origin’… Kor thought, watching it soar about the Reich battleship on his viewscreen.

The mystery ship was thoroughly alien in appearance: a saucer perched atop a stout tube, with what Kor assumed were a pair of warp coils splayed away from its hull.  Its gawky configuration was a sharp contrast to the sturdy designs of Klingon and Reich ships.

Yet, Kor couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen the ship before.  Impossible, he dismissed.  It doesn’t appear in the Klingon Imperial Navy data banks.  Perhaps I glimpsed it in a bloodwine-fueled dream…

Awkward design or not, the alien ship was literally flying circles around the Reich battleship, firing at the Dönitz’s vulnerable sides and then swooping away when the battleship tried getting a weapons lock.  That ship is blessed with an outstanding helmsman.  And a formidable captain.

Though it was expertly dodging most of the salvos hurled at it, the alien ship was still getting pounded.  Outgunned and outnumbered, the ship was doomed.  An honorable battle…and eventual death, admired Kor.

“Captain, the alien ship’s hull markings are a variant of the Reich language,” reported his communications officer.  “It reads ‘Enterprise’.”

An irrational fury swelled in Kor’s chest.  Where did that rage come from? he asked himself, trying to tamp it down.

“We will be in disruptor range in 2 tups,” said his weapons officer.

*

“Captain, two Klingon ships are on an intercept course to us,” said Sulu.

We’re barley holding our own against the Reich, Kirk knew.  But against both the Reich and the Klingons?  We don’t stand a chance…

“The IKS Klothos and IKS Gr’oth are engaging the Dönitz,” announced Spock.

Kor and Koloth fighting at my side? thought Kirk. This universe is truly mad!

The Enterprise rocked.

“Shields are down.”

“Casualties reported on all decks!” exclaimed Uhura.

The Enterprise flailed starboard.

“Captain, we lost the port nacelle!  Warp core breach imminent!” Scotty’s voice yelled from Engineering.

Captain James Tiberius Kirk felt every bead of sweat under his tunic.  He could make out every blinking button on the bridge, every spark sputtering out of its damaged consoles, every swirl of acrid smoke glowing red in the alert lights.  His thoughts crystallized into a single realization: To save trillions of Federation lives, the Dönitz must be destroyed.

“Sulu, plot a collision course with the Dönitz.  Full impulse,” Kirk ordered with eerie calm.  “Chekov, all weapons free.”

They responded without hesitation.  “Aye aye, sir,”

On the main screen, the ever-growing Dönitz was whipping about, as if jerked on marionette strings, as weapons hammered it from three sides.

“The Dönitz’s shields are down!” was the last thing Kirk heard before a pure white light overtook him.

*

“Shields down!” yelled the Kommandant.  “Hull breaches on decks 1,2,3—“

An explosion erupted on the side of the bridge, sending the Kommandant flying.  His body thudded against the bulkhead like a rag doll.  The Kapitän didn’t need to be a medic to know that his first officer was dead.

“Warp core breach!” screamed his Chief Engineer’s voice from his armrest.

On the main screen, the Kapitän could see that the Enterprise was on a collision course at sub-light, all weapons blazing.

“For my —“ was the last thing Bettenhauser said before a pure white light overtook him.

***

A pristine Enterprise bridge surrounded Kirk.

“Oh my,” he heard himself say.  Am I dead?  Is this the afterlife?  Being on the bridge of a starship—of the USS Enterprise—would be my definition of heaven, after all…

“All stations report status,” he unsteadily ordered.

“Helm reports full impulse and warp capability.”

“All weapons online.  Full complement of photon torpedoes onboard.”

“Engines purring like a wee kitten.”

“No patients in my sickbay.”

“Picking up Federation communications,” Uhura said with a beautiful smile.

“We must have destroyed the Dönitz,” Kirk realized.

“And restored our timeline,” said Spock.

“Captain, I’m picking up a distress call from the USS Crockett at—“

“At Tau Delta II,” Kirk finished for Uhura.  “Sulu, plot a course at warp factor 8.  Engage.”

*

Crockett’s in visual range,” said Spock.

On the main screen, above Tau Delta II, the single nacelle USS Crockett was being dragged into a region of distorted space.

“Get a tractor beam on the Crockett!  But keep our distance from that whirl—”

“Tractor beam locked on the Crockett.  It’s safely away from the spacetime whirlpool.  As are we,” reported Sulu.

“That was too easy,” muttered Kirk.

“This spacetime whirlpool is eight times less powerful than the one that first dragged us in,” Spock offered as an explanation.

“Captain, we’re being hailed from the planet.”

“On screen.”

“—you murderers!” a male alien was screaming.

We’re murderers?” Kirk replied incredulously.  “You tried sending the Crockett to her death.  You tried wiping out trillions of Federation lives—“

“A billion of us were fleeing this prison.  They bridged over to the Tau Delta II in the other timeline, free of the Forever Shield.  My wife—“  The alien broke down, sobbing.  “You erased that reality.  They are gone!”

“That must be why this whirlpool was weaker than the others.  There were a lot less spacetime aliens to generate it,” commented Spock.

“We did not do this.  You orchestrated—“

“Mark my words, Captain Kirk.  When we eventually escape from here, we will unleash a time war on the Federation that will make our previous civil war look like—“

“Uhura, cut him off.  Sulu, get us the hell out of here.”

“Captain, we are being hailed by the Crockett.”

“On screen.”

A scruffy youngish officer appeared on the viewscreen.  “Captain Kirk, this Commander Chen, commanding officer of the USS Crockett.  I monitored your communications with the planet.  They tried sending us to our deaths?  They tried wiping out trillions of Federation lives?  What was that all about?”

“It’s a long story, Commander.  I’ll transmit my log to you.  But in the meantime, I recommend that you get as far away as possible.  I’m going to recommend to Starfleet that they issue a General Order forbidding contact with Tau Delta II.”

“A system worthy of General Order quarantine?  I’m looking forward to reading that log, sir.  Chen out.”

“Good to have you back, Crockett,” Kirk said to the star strewn screen.

McCoy appeared from the turbo lift.  “Here to check up on my patient,” he explained.

“Doctor, I’m fine,” said Sulu.  “It’s as if the plasma accident never occurred.”

“Yeah, I’m hearing the same thing from all the other crewmembers who were injured during our clash with the space-Nazis,” McCoy said, scrutinizing his medical tricorder.

Stepping away from his science station, Spock stood to his captain’s right.  Staring at the main screen, hands clasped behind him, he said, “The idea of entirely new universes spawning from forks in history is fascinating.”

“Yes, it’s not the first time the Enterprise has encountered time travelers and changes in the timestream during this five year mission.  It probably won’t be the last.”  Perhaps Starfleet should create a special department to investigate these ever increasing temporal incursions, Kirk noted to himself.

“Indeed.  As we know from encountering our mirror counterparts, there exists at least one alternate version of the Enterprise.  There’s a high probability that others exist—“

McCoy looked up from his tricorder.  “Wait.  You mean there may be a more Spocks out there too?”

“Precisely, Doctor.”

“One Spock is enough.  But a reality with two Spocks?  Lord have mercy on that universe…”

Spock’s raised eyebrow was met with Kirk’s amused grin.

“We’re out of the Delta Tau system,” announced Sulu.

“Lay in a course to Starbase 10.  Warp factor two.”

*

Exhausted from watching two showings in a row (each consisting of a news reel, two serials, and the main feature) plus the long walk to and from the theater, Max asked if he could go to bed right after supper, much to his momma’s surprise.

Now rolling to his side, covers tucked under his chin, he could hear his pop and uncles, still sitting around the dinner table, talking about the war in Europe.

In the twilight of wakefulness, their conversation mixed with the day’s events in his head.  Young Max began dreaming of heroic Flash Rogers, defending the Earth from evil space-Nazis…

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The Early Days of Fan Fiction on Vice.com

I was contacted by Mark Hill over at Vice.com a few weeks back about a fan fiction story he was writing. He asked about the early days of fan fiction and what was going on back in 1995 when the site started. Back then, I was a college student at the University of Pittsburgh. The site was being run from my university computer account then. I covered how the site started and what has happened since then.

Mark also contacted Peg Robinson about her involvement in fan fiction back in the mid 90’s. Several of her stories are located here on the site. I corresponded with her quite a bit back then. It was good to get her point of view being that I hadn’t heard from her in years.

You can read the full story here: The Forgotten Early History of Fanfiction

I tried to locate a copy of the site from ’95. the closest I have found is this version from 8/23/2000. The site was also mentioned in the December ’97 and December ’98 issues of Yahoo Internet Life magazine. If anyone has those issues and can find the reference, send me an email: dave@trekfanfiction.net

Thanks!

-Dave

The story is also available on The Internet Archive: The Forgotten Early History of Fanfiction

Updated: 12/2/25

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Star Trek: Pyramid 42

Chapter 1

9 of 12, quaternary communicator of unimatrix 64 processed the information coming from all over pyramid 42, cube 16, cube 84, and sphere 72.  He and the other borg assigned to processing the data decided the attack pattern.  Pyramid 42 flew behind the engines of the Tre’gok, the Klingon ship they were trying to assimilate.  Suddenly, a wormhole opened, sucking in the Tre’gok and pyramid 42.  All communication devices aboard both ships were destroyed, disconnecting pyramid 42 from the collective.  9 of 12, quaternary communicator of unimatrix 64 was unable to get sensor readings, so he walked around the ship.  He found that there was no way of communicating with the collective.  then, he found out something else: the Tre’gok was still fighting.

He decided to fly a probe to the Klingon ship and tell them the crew of pyramid 42 were no longer borg.  After dodging disruptor fighter he boarded the ship and was met by 3 angry Klingons.  He said “roj (peace)”.  One of the Klingons said “Qo’ (no)”.  9 of 12, quaternary communicator of unimatrix 64 said “qawlu’ Borg.  maHvaD disconnected wormhole vo’ collective.  qul DeSDu’ maHvaD ‘e’ yImev. (We are no longer borg.  The wormhole disconnected us from the collective.  Stop firing at us.)”  The Klingons took him to the bridge and spoke with the captain.  The captain agreed to stop firing.

The crew of pyramid 42 decided to try to get back to their homeworlds.  9 of 12 was chosen to be the captain.  Their 1st objective was to find out where they were.  Then find a way back.  The final step was to go back.

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The Pax Void Incident

 

The Pax Void Incident

By Amy Bisson

 

Captain James T. Kirk leaned forward in his chair, studying the viewscreen intently. He could see the pirate ship straight ahead, seeming to get smaller. “Increase speed to warp 8.1,” he ordered.

“Warp 8.1, aye,” acknowledged Sulu. “He is approaching the Pax Void. He will enter the void in eleven minutes at current speed. At warp 8.1 we will overtake him in fourteen minutes, if his speed remains constant.”

Kirk turned his head to look at the science station. “Spock, isn’t there some dispute about whose territory the Pax Void falls into?”

“Indeed, Captain,” Spock said. “Federation star charts show the Pax Void as being Federation territory. Romulan star maps show it within their borders. Neither side has felt it is worth fighting over because it is so empty. It is also close enough to Orion space that it is possible they also claim it.”

The pirate ship looked to be Orion in design, although it bore no official insignia. Kirk turned his attention back to Sulu. “Better make it warp 8.4.”

“Warp 8.4, aye,” Sulu acknowledged. “We should now overtake the pirate approximately one minute before we reach Pax Void.”

Kirk flipped a toggle on the arm of his chair. “Phaser crews stand ready. Arm photon torpedoes.”

“Security acknowledging phasers and photon torpedoes ready on your command,” said Lt. Uhura from her communications station.

Kirk leaned even further forward in his seat. He could see that the pirate vessel was getting closer. Then a sight far beyond the hostile ship caught his attention. “What is that?” he asked.

Spock was intently studying the readings on his science station. “Massive energy wave approaching at high warp speed. Type of energy not yet known. Cause of disturbance not yet known. It will hit us in forty-five seconds.”

Kirk toggled the intercom on his chair. “Attention all hands. Brace for impact.”

Kirk forced himself to sit further back in his seat. He gripped the armrests so tightly his knuckles turned white and his fingers began to cramp. He watched in horrified fascination as the energy wave hit the pirate ship. The ship was tossed violently and Kirk thought he saw it break apart. Before he could verify that, he was thrown out of his seat.

The deck beneath him rocked and buckled for several seconds. Kirk could feel his knees bruising and at one point he bumped his forehead. It was almost a minute after the impact had ended before he could stand, and even then his feet were not steady. He quickly sat back in his command seat.

He took a second to catch his breath and clear his head. Then he toggled the intercom switch. “Damage reports, all sections.”

Uhura listened to the responses for a minute before announcing, “All sections report minimal damage. Doctor McCoy reports numerous scrapes, bruises, and other minor injuries and several concussions.”

Kirk made a mental note to have McCoy check him for a concussion when he could spare the time. He suspected that might not be for a while. He turned his attention to Spock.

“Report.”

Spock was still busy looking over data as he spoke. “There is now a planet in the Pax Void. Its arrival seems to have triggered the rather powerful subspace shockwave which we just experienced. That shockwave appears to have destroyed the pirate ship completely.”

“Where did that planet come from?” Kirk asked. “I thought the Pax Void was one of the emptiest places in the entire galaxy.”

“You are correct, Captain,” Spock said. “The Pax Void has, until now, not only been devoid of stars and planets, but it even had less cosmic dust than any other place in our records. The very emptiness is the reason no wars have been fought over it, even though it is claimed by at least two, and probably three different governments.”

“Yet this previously empty space now has a planet,” Kirk said. “Where did it come from? How did it get there?”

“At this point, any answer would be pure conjecture,” Spock said.

“Then guess,” Kirk said.

“Most likely it came from another universe,” Spock said. “That is why its arrival triggered the subspace shockwave.”

“How can a planet jump from one universe to another?” Kirk asked.

“Again, this is primarily speculation,” Spock said. “However the planet is so rich in dilithium that our scanners can detect it from this distance. It is possible that mining by beings inexperienced with such a volatile element somehow triggered a catastrophe that brought the planet from one universe to another.”

It took several seconds for Captain Kirk to realize the full importance of Spock’s words. “You said earlier that only the emptiness of the Pax Void prevented wars from being fought over it?”

“Correct, Captain,’ said Spock.

“And now there is a planet in there so rich in dilithium that it registers on our scanners several parsecs away?” Kirk asked.

“That is indeed accurate, Captain,” Spock said.

“Chekov, set course for that planet,” Kirk ordered.

Chekov acknowledged from his navigator’s station.

“Sulu, engage at warp 8.5,” Kirk ordered. “Uhura, send a message to Starfleet with all pertinent data about the situation in the Pax Void. Include all of Spock’s sensor readings and theories about the planet’s origins.”

“Message sent, sir,” Uhura acknowledged. “At this distance, it will take approximately four hours for them to receive it.”

“Which means at least eight hours to get a reply,” Kirk said. “Of course they won’t rush their response. By the time we hear from Starfleet they will simply be telling us to do whatever we just did.”

“Are there any Romulan or Orion ships in the Pax Void right now?” Kirk asked.

“None that our sensors can detect, Captain,” Spock said. “However, there could be cloaked Romulan vessels.”

“Captain, the pirate ship did get at least a partial distress signal out in the seconds before it was destroyed,” Uhura added. “I’m not sure how much got through.”

“So we can expect Orions,” Kirk said. “And we have no way of knowing if any Romulan ships are either already there or approaching the Pax Void.”

“That is an accurate summary, Captain,” Spock said.

“Yellow alert,” Kirk ordered.

Flashing lights showed that his orders had been carried out. He took a moment to try to think about his next move. He wondered who would be the first ship to orbit the new planet.

“Spock, can you think of any way to penetrate the Romulan cloaking device?” Kirk asked, after a minute.

“Sometimes there is visible distortion around a cloaked vessel,” Spock said. “Visual detection of that effect is currently the most effective means to detect such a ship.”

“Everyone watch the viewscreen very carefully,” Kirk ordered.

“Captain, while visual detection is the best current method, it is still very much what you would call a ‘long shot’,” Spock said. “Especially at this distance. Ultimately our best possible course of action is to attempt to reach the planet before any other ships arrive.”

“Mr. Sulu, increase speed to warp factor 9,” Kirk ordered.

“Warp 9, aye,” Sulu said.

Kirk imagined he could feel the Enterprise thrumming and pulsing beneath him, as if he could feel the jump in velocity. He knew it was his imagination, yet the feeling also gave him hope. Speed was of the essence, so imagining he could feel that speed comforted him.

The intercom panel on his chair chirped. “Kirk here,” he answered.

“Captain, we canna maintain warp 9 for long,” came the voice of Commander Scott.

Kirk looked at Spock before responding. “Can we maintain for…?”

“Seventeen minutes eleven seconds,” Spock said.

“Seventeen minutes?” Kirk finished.

“Aye. I could maybe even make it eighteen, but no longer than that,” Scotty said.

“Seventeen should be fine,” Kirk said.

“Captain, will we be meetin’ any Orions when we get out of warp?” Scotty asked.

“Probably,” Kirk said. “Also, Romulans. Can the Enterprise handle a little schoolyard scuffle?”

“She can handle Romulans, Orions, and Klingons with one nacelle tied behind her back.” Kirk could hear the pride in Scotty’s voice.

“Just Orions and Romulans with both nacelles in place should be perfectly fine,” Kirk said.

“Aye, Captain, she’ll be ready. Scotty out.”

Kirk couldn’t help smiling. He knew Scotty would make sure the Enterprise was ready for whatever happened.

“Captain,” said Spock, in a more serious tone of voice than even he normally used, “Another shockwave approaching in sixty-four seconds.”

Kirk toggled the intercom. “All hands, brace for another shockwave.”

This time Kirk maintained his seat, but barely. His hands cramped painfully from gripping the armrest too tightly. Yet when he looked around afterward, he noticed the rest of the bridge crew had also managed to stay at their stations.

“Status?” Kirk asked.

“Still maintaining warp 9, on course, Captain,” Sulu said.

“Damage reports,” Kirk ordered over the intercom.

After a minute, Uhura said, “No damage, very few injuries, Captain.”

“Okay, Spock,” Kirk said. “What was that? Another new planet?”

“Negative, Captain,” Spock said. “My preliminary analysis shows it originated at the same planet.”

“Does that mean there is some sort of problem with the planet?” Kirk asked. “Some instability?”

“Captain, it is too early to be completely sure, but it does appear that way,” Spock said. “I need more time to analyze the data to determine if this is a normal side effect of whatever brought that world into our universe or whether it indicates a dangerous instability originating at the planet.”

“In other words, you don’t know.” Kirk jumped at the words behind him. He hadn’t heard Doctor McCoy arrive on the bridge.

“That is what I said, Doctor,” said Spock.

“So this planet we are rushing towards could shake us to hades and back,” McCoy said. “Or it could stay nice and quiet and sit out there while the entire quadrant goes to war over it.”

“At this time, both of those possibilities are equally valid,” Spock said. “Along with any number of other possibilities.”

“Let’s hope we can prevent a war, gentlemen,” Kirk said.

“That’s up to the Romulans and Orions,” Chekov said.

“We do have some say in the matter,” McCoy said.

“That we do, Bones,” Kirk said. “That we do.”

Kirk forced himself to sit back, to give the illusion of relaxing. He realized it probably wasn’t fooling anyone, but he decided it was his duty to pretend.

It seemed like forever before Sulu announced, “Captain, we are approaching the planet.”

“Standard orbit, Mr. Sulu,” Kirk ordered. Then he turned to Spock. “Any sign of company?”

“No uncloaked Romulans, Captain,” Spock said. “An Orion ship did just enter the Pax Void, but it will take another twenty three point eight minutes to reach the planet.”

“Captain, I am receiving a signal from the surface of the planet,” Uhura said.

“Is it a Romulan signal?” Kirk asked.

“No, sir,” Uhura said. “It matches no known language or code. The universal translator is still working on it but preliminary analysis indicates it is a distress signal.”

“Someone was on the planet?” Kirk asked. “Could they have caused the planet to enter our universe?”

“A distinct possibility, Captain,” Spock said.

“What are the current conditions?” Kirk asked.

“Surface temperature is twenty five degrees Celsius, but without a star in close proximity, it is falling rapidly,” Spock said. “Atmosphere is oxygen-nitrogen. Basically it is a class-M world at the moment, although that will change quickly.”

“Spock, McCoy, you’re with me. Uhura, have security send two guards for an away team,” Kirk said.

“Captain, I must object most strenuously,” Spock said. “With the possibility of combat with both Orions and Romulans, your place is on the Enterprise.”

“I hate to agree with Spock,” McCoy said, “but he is right.”

“Fine,” Kirk said. “Spock, you are in charge of the landing party.”

Kirk heard McCoy calling sickbay to request a nurse and two medics for the landing party. Then the turbolift doors closed. Kirk fought an almost overwhelming urge to sigh in frustration. He knew Spock and McCoy were right, but it didn’t make it any easier to be left behind.

A minute later Uhura said, “Transporter room reports landing party successfully beamed down.”

“Status of Orion ship?” Kirk asked Sulu.

Sulu checked his instruments. “Seventeen point four minutes, Captain.”

Just then on the monitor in front of him, a Romulan ship decloaked.

***

As soon as McCoy felt himself materialize, he pulled out his medical tricorder. Thankfully, as soon as he opened it, the device began to glow. It was the only light source in sight. He waved it around until he got the reading he was looking for. “This way,” he pointed.

The security guards drew their phasers and tried to take point, but McCoy and his medics ran ahead. “These people need medical help, not getting shot by phasers.”

McCoy struggled to grab his flashlight in one hand while still holding the tricorder in the other hand. Fortunately Spock had his flashlight out and was providing some illumination. One of the guards also holstered his phaser and replaced it with a light.

The tricorder showed that they were rapidly approaching what appeared to be life signs. The readings were faint but steady. McCoy wasn’t sure if that was a good indication or a bad one.

Just then, Spock’s communicator beeped. McCoy was so focused on getting to any injured survivors that he barely noticed the conversation, although he did hear something about Romulans. McCoy mentally shrugged and hoped that the Captain could avoid combat. It seemed to him a waste for people to die in battle.

McCoy almost didn’t see the first alien. Its leathery skin was almost the same shade of dark gray as the local rocks. It was muscular, but short, and when it opened its eyes, they had purple irises.

“I’m here to help,” McCoy said, hoping the universal translator was working.

He leaned over the being and began scanning with the probe of his tricorder. Looking over the readings, he tried to estimate what was normal for that alien. Based on some of what he saw, he began to think of his patient as “him”, although that was merely a guess as to what certain organs were supposed to be.

He noticed a bone in the alien’s leg appeared to be broken. “Is that supposed to look like that?” McCoy asked. He gently touched the appendage and noticed the alien react with obvious signs of pain.

He pulled out his medkit. “Would someone please shine a light this way?” he asked.

A security guard illuminated the medkit, allowing McCoy to choose what he hoped was the best painkiller for the alien’s biology. He loaded it into the hypospray and dosed the patient. Then he said, “That will help with the pain, but you’re probably going to still feel an incredible burst of agony in a few seconds. It should go away right after that.”

“Thank you,” the alien said. “I’m ready.”

McCoy said a silent prayer of gratitude that the universal translator was working. Then he set the bone. The patient gasped but did not scream. Then McCoy placed a bone-knitter over the leg.

“Based on what I can tell of your anatomy, this device should have that fracture healed in about five minutes,” McCoy said. “You need to keep your leg perfectly still until I remove it. By the way, I am Doctor Leonard McCoy.”

“I am Devoe. It is nice to meet you, Doctor Leonard McCoy.”

“The gentleman with the pointy ears is Commander Spock. The woman is Nurse Christine Chapel. The other men in blue are Medic Ramirez and Medic Jones. The woman in red is Ensign Sonja Hill and the man in red is Ensign Walter Kennedy.”

“It is nice to meet all of you,” Devoe said. “Do you know if any of the other miners survived?”

McCoy checked his tricorder. “I don’t show any other lifesigns.”

A tear began falling down Devoe’s cheek. “There were a dozen of us. How could I be the last one? How could I be the only survivor?”

McCoy patted Devoe gently on the shoulder, hoping that the gesture was not only universal but multiversal. He could think of nothing else to do. When Devoe seemed a little better, McCoy checked the readings on the bone-knitter. “Almost done,” he said. “Two more minutes and you’ll never even know it was broken.”

“Do you mind if I ask you some questions, Mister Devoe?” Spock asked.

“Not at all,” Devoe said. “If I know the answers, I will gladly tell you.”

“I assume you were mining dilithium,” Spock said. “Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Devoe said.

“Do you know what caused this planet to leave your universe and enter ours?” Spock asked.

“Is that what happened?” Devoe asked.

Spock nodded. “Yes. Until approximately one hour ago, this entire region of space was completely empty. We called it the Pax Void.”

“All I know for sure is that we had been getting strange vibrations for a couple of hours,” Devoe explained. “We figured it was some form of crystal resonance, but didn’t know anything else. My foreman sent me to the storage shed to get some instruments so that we could figure out what was happening.”

While Devoe paused his narrative, struggling not to weep, McCoy removed the bone-knitter from his leg. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

Devoe took a deep breath. “When I reached the mine entrance, the ground began to quake like nothing I had ever felt before. On my homeworld, I was born just a mile from the largest and most active fault line on our entire planet, so I was used to tremblors. This was more powerful than any quake I had ever experienced. I fell, and then a beam fell on my leg. Fortunately it was not very heavy, so I was able to move it. I tried to stand but discovered I couldn’t.”

It was only then that Devoe seemed to realize that his leg was healed. He began to move it slowly. McCoy saw that he wanted to stand, so he helped him up. Devoe took a few tentative steps, then leaned against a nearby boulder.

“When I looked outside,” Devoe continued, “I saw that the sky had gone completely dark. It was noon when the earthquake hit. I did not seem to have lost consciousness, and even if I had, two of this world’s moons were going to be full tonight. I found the darkness puzzling.”

“Did you send a distress signal?” Spock asked.

“Yes,” Devoe answered. “I have a small, handheld two-way radio. It has a distress signal programmed into it. I activated it, in case anyone else had survived.”

Just then, the ground beneath them began to shake and pulse. McCoy struggled to stay on his feet. Nurse Chapel stumbled and fell against Spock. As she regained her footing, McCoy couldn’t help but notice that her face turned bright red.

Spock studied his tricorder. “We have a problem.”

“Do you mean besides the earthquake, the Orions, and the Romulans?” McCoy asked.

“Yes, Doctor,” Spock said. “The earthquake we just experienced released another subspace shockwave. This planet is incompatible with our universe.”

“What do you mean incompatible?” McCoy asked.

“This planet is slightly out-of-sync with our universe,” Spock said. “If it remains in our universe, the subspace shockwaves will not only tear it apart but will grow violent enough to threaten other planets. This last shockwave was twelve point seven eight percent more powerful than the previous one, which in turn was eleven point seven nine percent more powerful than the shockwave that occurred when this planet first arrived in our universe.”

“How long?” McCoy asked.

“At the rate the shockwaves are growing, this planet will survive for less than twenty-four hours,” Spock said.

“What can be done to fix this problem?” asked Devoe.

“I will have to confer with our ship’s chief engineer, but I believe we will have to recreate the exact vibration that you felt just prior to this planet jumping universes,” Spock said. Then he grabbed his communicator and opened it.

McCoy heard him explaining the situation to Captain Kirk and found himself wondering how bad things with the Romulans had gotten. He knew that by then the Orion ship had probably also arrived.

***

Captain Kirk took a deep breath. “Go to yellow alert. Shields up. Uhura, advise Spock of our situation. Make sure he knows it might be a while before he and the rest of the landing party can beam up.”

“Aye, Captain,” Uhura said. A few seconds later she added, “Spock acknowledges.”

That done, Kirk turned his attention to the Romulans. He knew he couldn’t waste time wondering what was happening on the planet. His duty was to the Enterprise, and to the Federation.

“Hail the Romulans,” Kirk said.

“Romulans acknowledge,” Uhura said.

“On screen,” Kirk ordered.

Even after a few years, Kirk still found it difficult to look at Romulans. They looked so much like Vulcans, yet also so different. Vulcans were hard-edged yet serene. Romulans looked stern, stiff.

“Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation starship Enterprise,” Kirk advised the Romulan on the viewscreen.

“Commander Virnha of the Romulan ship Kirjhe. What is your purpose here?”

“Exploring a new planet that has appeared in Federation territory,” Kirk said.

“We both know this is Romulan territory,” Virnha said.

“Federation star charts have always shown this area as within our borders,” Kirk said. “A fact that Romulans are aware of.”

“Romulans have claimed this area since before the Federation even existed,” Virnha said. “Therefore, the planet below us, and all of the dilithium on it, belongs to the Romulan Empire. Leave Romulan space or face the consequences.”

“You might have noticed that an Orion ship is also approaching the planet,” Captain Kirk said. “It will be here in minutes. The Enterprise could easily defeat you. The Orions could probably defeat you. Do you really want to make this a question of firepower?”

“We will deal with the Orions after we destroy you,” Commander Virnha said.

“Good luck with that,” Kirk said. Then he turned to Uhura and made a slashing motion with his hand. The image on the viewscreen changed to show the planet and the Romulan ship.

“Arm phasers and photon torpedoes, but do not fire,” Captain Kirk ordered. “Status or the Orions?”

“Orion vessel arriving in three minutes, Captain,” Sulu said.

Just then, the Enterprise began tossing like a sailboat caught in a hurricane. Kirk barely stayed in his chair and noticed his crew were tossed around the bridge. Chekov slid so hard that Kirk winced in sympathetic pain.

As soon as the shaking stopped, Kirk ordered, “Medic to the bridge.”

“Sickbay acknowledges, Captain,’ Uhura said.

“Damage report,” Kirk ordered.

“Minor damage only, but sickbay reports numerous minor injuries and a few serious injuries,” Uhura said.

“Status of the Romulans and Orions?” Kirk asked.

“Both ships survived, Captain,” Sulu said. “They were damaged but I am unable to determine how seriously.”

Uhura looked up from her board.   “Orions have transmitted a message, Captain.”

“Let’s see it,” Kirk said.

“Audio only,” Uhura said.

“Let’s hear it,” Kirk corrected himself.

A scratch, gravelly voice came over the speakers. “You have destroyed an Orion vessel. This is an act of war. You are also orbiting a planet within Orion space without permission, another act of war. Surrender or be destroyed.”

“Uhura, send the following,” Kirk ordered. “Orion ship, we did not destroy any of your vessels. The ship you referred to had just committed an act of piracy within Federation space. We were pursuing it with the intention of capturing it so that the crew might stand trial for their crimes, however before we could capture it, it was destroyed by a shockwave as this planet entered Federation space from another universe.”

“Message sent, Captain,” Uhura said.

“Let me know if there is any reply,” Kirk said.

“Captain, Spock is calling,” Uhura said.

“On audio,” Kirk ordered. “Spock, what is your status?”

“The landing party is fine, Captain,” Spock said, “As is the sole survivor of the dilithium mine here on the planet. However, we do have a problem.”

“Another one?” Kirk asked.

“Yes, Captain,” Spock said. Then he explained the instability of the planet.

“What can we do?” Kirk asked.

“I need to speak to Commander Scott to work out the details, but I have the beginning of a hypothetical solution,” Spock said.

“Uhura, patch Spock’s signal to engineering,” Kirk ordered.

Just then a medic arrived on the bridge. Captain Kirk pointed him towards Chekov. The medic immediately began working.

Even as the medic was working, Kirk heard Spock and Scotty exchange technical terms that he did not come close to understanding. There was talk of resonance and vibration and harmonics as well as various geophysical technical terms and words Kirk had never even heard before.

Captain Kirk turned to Uhura. “Open a channel to both the Romulans and the Orions. Send a complete copy of Spock’s report, patch in some of that conversation between Spock and Scotty, and any data Spock has sent.”

“Aye, Captain,” Uhura said. “Sending it now.”

Meanwhile, Captain Kirk tried to listen to the conversation between Spock and Scotty. It had grown so technical that he couldn’t actually understand most of it. He was tempted to interrupt to ask them to explain in simpler terms what they were talking about, but he decided it was better to let them finish and then explain it.

By then, the medic was leading Chekov off the bridge. Kirk was tempted to follow to see how badly his injuries were, but he didn’t dare with two hostile vessels and a planet in danger of destroying the entire quadrant. He asked Uhura to keep Spock and Scotty’s conversation muted on the bridge.

Once the sound of complex jargon was gone, Kirk felt a little more relaxed. “Uhura, have either the Romulans or Orions replied to the information you sent them?”

“Not yet, Captain,” she said.

“Any update on how badly damaged they were when that last wave hit?” Kirk asked.

“Both vessels seem to have received moderate damage, Captain,” Sulu said. “No key systems seem to have been affected. They are both still fully capable of combat.”

“Any way to predict when the next shockwave will hit?” Kirk asked.

Sulu studied his instruments. “No, Captain. Spock would have the best data on that.”

Kirk was about to ask Uhura to patch him into the conversation between Spock and Scotty when it became a moot point. The next wave hit, and hit hard. Kirk was tossed out of his seat. His knees took most of the impact, causing floor burns and tearing his pants slightly.

He climbed back into the captain’s chair, making a mental note to see about having some sort of safety system installed the next time they visited a Starbase. “Damage reports,” he ordered.

Uhura sounded almost bored as she said, “No significant damage, only minor injuries.”

Sulu didn’t wait to be prompted. “The Romulans and Orions also suffered very minor damage. No firm estimate of any systems impacted, but they don’t seem to be experiencing any major malfunctions.”

Kirk wondered if either of his counterparts had scraped knees or torn pants. He decided that if there was any justice in the universe, they must have received some sort of bumps or bruises. Of course, Kirk had long ago concluded there was no justice in the universe.

Kirk’s karmic thoughts were interrupted by Uhura. “Captain, the Romulans wish to speak to you. They also want Spock to be part of the conversation.”

“Then go ahead and let Spock know,” Kirk said. “Scotty can work without him for a couple of minutes.”

“Spock is listening, Captain,” Uhura said.

“Put Commander Virnha on viewer,” Kirk ordered.

The viewscreen once again showed the bridge of the Romulan ship. Virnha had thin streaks of green running down his face. Kirk recalled his earlier thoughts with a bit of guilt.

“How can I help you, commander Virnha?” Kirk asked.

“Is your science officer listening?” Virnha asked.

“I am,” Spock’s voice said.

“My science officer concedes that the planet below must be sent back to its own universe,” Virnha said. “However, would it pose any danger to use one dilithium crystal from that world?”

“Even the most minute quantity of dilithium from this planet would be unstable and would cause a catastrophic engine imbalance,” Spock said.

“When you enact your plan to return the world to its own universe, what will be the minimum safe distance that my ship will have to be to survive?” Virnha asked.

“At least three point five parsecs if you want to have a seventy percent chance to survive,” Spock said. “If possible, all ships should be more than five parsecs in order to minimize damage.”

“Captain Kirk, that last shockwave cracked my last dilithium crystal,” Virnha said. “Do you have an extra?”

Kirk flipped a toggle on his command chair. “Engineering, do we have any extra dilithium?”

One of Scotty’s assistants answered. “Aye, Captain. We have one extra crystal.”

“Please have someone bring that crystal to the transporter room,” Kirk ordered. “As a gesture of peace and goodwill, we will give it to the Romulans.”

“You have my gratitude, Captain Kirk,” Virnha said. “One of my colleagues said you were a man of honor. I see she was correct.”

“Captain, the Orion ship is arming its weapons,” Sulu said.

“Hail them,” Kirk ordered.

“No response, Captain,” Uhura said.

“Arm phasers and photon torpedoes. Target the Orion ship,” Kirk ordered.

“Aye, Captain,” Sulu said. “Phasers and photon torpedoes armed and ready.”

“Hail the Orions again,” Kirk said.

“They sent a message, Captain,” Uhura said.

“Play it,” Kirk said.

The message turned out to be audio only. The voice was the same gravelly and slightly scratchy being who sent the earlier threat. “The Orion Government does not recognize the so-called science purporting to show this world is dangerous. We see this as a ploy to steal a dilithium-rich planet which is inside Orion territory. We have heard the plotting between you and the Romulans, Federation vessel Enterprise. You have managed to sneak some of the dilithium away from our planet and are giving it to the Romulans to pay for their support of your unscientific and inaccurate claims about this world. We demand you give us all minerals you have mined from this planet and leave Orion space immediately.”

Kirk was initially shocked by the absurd message. He decided to take a moment to collect his thoughts before responding. Finally he took a deep breath. “Uhura transmit the following to the Orion vessel: Your denial of scientific truth as a way to prop up a bogus claim to the world below is endangering the entire sector. Many planets could be destroyed by the resulting shockwaves if the planet is not returned to its own universe, including planets that indisputably are in Orion territory.”

“No response, Captain,” Uhura said.

“The Orions are now aiming weapons at the Romulans instead of us, Captain,” Sulu said.

“Keep weapons aimed at the Orions,” Kirk said.

“Weapons still ready, Captain,” Sulu said.

“New message, Captain,” Uhura said.

“On audio,” Kirk ordered.

“Unless you and your pointy-eared allies leave this sector immediately, we will destroy the Romulan ship,” the same harsh voice said.

“Uhura, transmit the following: Any attack on the Romulan ship Kirjhe will be seen as an act of war against both the Romulan Star Empire and the United Federation of Planets. Stand down your weapons immediately or face the consequences.”

“Orion weapons still armed,” Sulu said.

“Fire a warning shot,” Kirk ordered. “Phasers at fifty percent power, don’t aim for anything sensitive.”

The space on the viewscreen was bisected by a bright crimson ray of light that struck the Orion ship. For five seconds, the beam was absorbed by the shields on the Orion ship, causing a visible distortion. Then the attack ended.

“Hail them,” Kirk ordered.

“They are on audio, Captain,” Uhura said.

“Orion vessel, that was a warning,” Kirk said.

“Enterprise, we offer a compromise. Allow us to take one dilithium crystal from the planet and we will leave you to do as you must.”

“Standby,” Kirk said. “Uhura, is Spock listening to this?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Spock, if we did as they asked would anyone other than the Orions be damaged?” Kirk asked.

“Captain, the resulting explosion would be dangerous to a radius of fifty kilometers. As long as no ships or planets are that close there will be no secondary damage,” Spock said.

“Then Spock, prepare to receive visitors,” Kirk said. “Uhura, put the Orions on again.”

“On audio, sir,” Uhura said.

“Orion Captain, you have a deal,” Kirk said. “You may beam down to the planet and get one dilithium crystal. Then you must leave the area for your own safety. However, I do want to urge you once again to reconsider. The crystal will destroy your ship.”

“We will not fall prey to your absurd claims of faulty science,” the Orion answered. “We will beam down to the surface. Make no attempt to harm our ship or to attack our landing party. Any such action would be considered an act of war.”

“Understood,” Kirk said. “Enterprise out.”

“Distance from the Orion ship?” Kirk asked.

“One hundred kilometers,” Sulu answered.

“How far are the Romulans from the Orions?” Kirk asked.

“One hundred seventy-five kilometers,” Sulu answered. “Also, the Orions are orbiting more than five hundred kilometers above the planet. The explosion should hurt no one.”

“Still, just to be safe, move another hundred kilometers away,” Kirk ordered.

“Aye, Captain,” Sulu said.

“Captain, Spock is calling from the surface,” Uhura said.

“On audio,” Kirk ordered.

“Captain, the Orions have taken a crystal and beamed back to their ship,” Spock said.

“Have you and Scotty worked out the details of how you will get the planet back to its proper universe?” Kirk asked.

“Yes, Captain,” Spock said.

Just then an explosion filled the viewscreen. The Orion ship was gone. The Enterprise did not even feel a shockwave.

“Was that the Orions?” Spock asked.

“It was,” Kirk said. “How is McCoy’s patient doing?”

“As well as I can get him without sickbay,” McCoy said.

“Good,” Kirk said. “After we beam the dilithium to the Romulans, we will beam up you, your medical team, and the security guards back to the Enterprise. After you are safely up here, we’ll beam Scotty and any other engineers that Spock needs down there.”

“We’ll be ready, Jim,” McCoy said.

“Dilithium sent, Captain,” Scotty’s voice said over the intercom.

“Captain, Mr. Spock is hailing us,” Uhura said.

“On audio, Lieutenant,” Kirk said.

“Captain, before you beam the others up, you should raise shields. Another shockwave will be due in forty-five seconds and it will be the most powerful yet.”

“Shields up,” Kirk ordered Sulu. He toggled the intercom. “All hands brace for impact.” Then he returned his attention to Spock. “Thanks for the warning.”

He had barely finished speaking when the shockwave slammed into the Enterprise.

***

Doctor McCoy sat down on the ground, in an open spot. He saw that everyone else was doing so as well, including Devoe, who had been testing his healed leg. Then the ground began shaking. After thirty seconds McCoy wondered if it would ever stop shaking.

Just then, McCoy noticed that a boulder had broken loose from the mountain above the mine.   It was rolling straight at them at an alarming rate of speed. He tried to shout a warning, but it was lost over the sounds of the earthquake. He noticed the boulder was aimed directly at Spock, who was busily studying tricorder readings in another direction.

McCoy stood and sprinted towards Spock. He noticed one of the security guards had the same idea. McCoy grabbed Spock and began dragging him. The guard arrived a second later, pushing McCoy and Spock out of the way. Unfortunately, his push knocked McCoy to the ground.

McCoy could feel the boulder crushing his foot and leg. He screamed in pain. By then the ground had stopped shaking so everyone heard him clearly.

Chapel was the first to reach them. McCoy saw her opening her tricorder and expected her to scan him. Only when she didn’t did McCoy see that Ensign Kennedy had taken the full brunt of the impact with the boulder.

Chapel studied the tricorder readings and frowned. McCoy could see from the look on her face what she saw.

“He’s dead, Doctor,” Chapel confirmed. Only then did she begin scanning McCoy.

“You have multiple breaks in your foot, ankle, and leg,” Chapel said. “I can’t set this many fractures under these conditions. We need to get you to sickbay.”

By then, McCoy heard Spock reporting to the Captain. “McCoy’s injuries require him to get to sickbay,” Spock finished his report.

“That will be a problem,” Kirk said. “The last shockwave damaged the transporter. It will be a little while before we can beam anyone up.”

“Understood, Captain,” Spock said. “Please keep us appraised.”

“I will, Spock,” Kirk said. “Stay safe.”

“Is that an order, Captain?” McCoy asked.

“Absolutely,” Kirk said. “Just be glad I can’t make it retroactive, or you’d be in real trouble.”

“A leg broken in multiple places, stuck on a planet that is a danger to our entire universe,” McCoy said, “how am I not already in real trouble?”

***

Kirk found himself chuckling in spite of himself. Then he realized how right McCoy was and frowned. He toggled the intercom to the transporter room.

“Scotty, how is the transporter coming along?” Kirk asked.

“Some of these circuits are pretty badly damaged, sir,” Scott answered. “Might be two or three hours before the wee beastie is working.”

“I don’t know if we have that long,” Kirk said.

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Scotty said.

Kirk thought about McCoy injured and in pain. He made an impulsive decision. “Uhura, hail the Romulans.”

“Aye, sir,” Uhura said.

Captain Virnha’s face filled the viewscreen. “Greetings Captain Kirk. Thank you again for the dilithium crystal.”

“You’re welcome,” Kirk said. “Now it’s my turn to ask a favor.”

“Let me guess,” Virnha said. “Your transporter difficulties? Your injured officer?”

“Exactly,” Kirk said.

“We would be glad to beam your men to our vessel and heal your doctor,” Virnha said.

“Thank you,” Kirk said.

“You are welcome,” Virnha said. “One good deed deserves another.”

***

Doctor McCoy heard Spock’s communicator beep. He hoped it was news that the transporter was working again. As much as he hated the unholy device, he hated the pain from his leg even more.

When he heard the Captain’s plan, he had mixed emotions. He was thankful that The Enterprise and Romulans were exchanging gestures of peace and goodwill, and he was thankful that he would get his leg tended to. However, he wasn’t sure how far to trust Romulan technology, either in terms of transporters or in terms of medical technology.

Several seconds later he felt the familiar tingling sensation. He felt comfort in realizing Romulan transporters felt no different from their Starfleet counterparts. When he was sure he had arrived safely, he looked around.

His first thought was that clearly he was not in a transporter room. His second thought was thankfulness that the Romulans beamed him directly to their sickbay. The equipment wasn’t identical, but it was recognizable.

He had materialized on a bed. A Romulan medic was placing a large scanner about a foot above his leg.   The scanner was similar to the ones on the biobeds on the Enterprise. The medic studied the readings carefully.

“Although I am not familiar with your species biology,” the Romulan said, “I do concur with your colleague that your foot and leg are broken in multiple places. Fortunately there doesn’t seem to be any significant difference in legs of humans and Romulans.”

“Yes,” McCoy agreed, “most bipeds, especially intelligent bipeds, seem to have very similar skeletal structures.”

“Indeed,” The Romulan said. “This should make repairs much easier. Have any of your colleagues given you any pain medication?”

“Yes, my nurse gave me something down on the planet,” McCoy said.

“Good,” the Romulan said. “I am not sure which of our pain medications your species can use safely. As you are no doubt aware, there will be some pain involved in setting these fractures.”

“I can handle it,” McCoy said.

McCoy quickly realized he had overestimated his own tolerance. When the second fracture was set, he found blackness at the edge of his vision before all became black and he fell thankfully into unconsciousness.

***

“Captain, the Romulans our hailing us,” Uhura said.

“On screen,” Kirk said.

Virnha’s image again filled the viewscreen. “Greetings, Captain Kirk,” he said.

“Greetings, Captain Virnha,” Kirk replied.

“You will be pleased to learn that your physician’s injuries have been tended to,” Virnha said. “The bones have been set and are healing now. The rest of your landing party are also safe aboard my ship. Except of course for Commander Spock, who has remained on the surface to begin working on restoring it to its own universe.”

“Thank you,” Kirk said.

“How is your transporter coming along?” Virnha asked.

“Slowly,” Kirk said. “My chief engineer thinks it may be another hour, maybe two.”

“My science officer informs me that another shockwave will occur in approximately twenty minutes,” Virnha said. “He also tells me that wave will be the ideal time to act on Commander Spock’s plan. That if we wait until the next shockwave, it might do damage to worlds outside the Pax Void, including some in Romulan territory.”

“There is a belief among my people that important things come in threes,” Kirk said. “We have already had two exchanges of peace and goodwill. Perhaps this would be a good time for a third.”

“Agreed,” Virnha said. “In fact, my science officer is conferring with Commander Spock even as we are speaking.”

“Good,” Kirk said.

“We will beam your officers directly back to your ship, bypassing your transporter,” Virnha said. “They can transport as soon as your Doctor’s leg has finished healing.”

“Thank you again,” Kirk said. “I have found that whatever differences may exist between the Federation and the Romulan Empire, Romulan starship commanders are honorable, decent beings.”

“You are the first Federation captain I have met,” Virnha said. “You also seem honorable and decent.”

With that, the image on the viewscreen reverted back to the planet and the Romulan ship. A minute later, Uhura said, “Captain, Mister Spock is calling.”

“On audio,” Captain Kirk said.

“Captain, the Romulan science officer has arrived on the planet,” Spock said. “We are preparing to initiate a resonance vibration in the dilithium identical to that which brought the planet into our universe. We should have everything completed shortly. Once everything is set up and we have beamed off the planet, we will need to immediately go to warp eight to escape the resulting subspace distortions.”

“Understood, Spock,” Kirk said.

Two minutes later, Uhura announced “The Romulans are ready to beam our landing party aboard.”

“Very good,” Kirk said.

On impulse, he decided to go to the transporter room. He arrived just as the landing party did.

“Welcome back,” Kirk said. “I trust that the Romulans were gracious hosts.”

“They were,” McCoy said. He had a barely detectable limp as he stepped off the platform.

“I see their medical people were able to heal you,” Kirk said.

“Indeed,” McCoy answered. “Almost as well as our own people could have. I see yo kept the ship in one piece.”

“Yes,” Kirk said. “Despite some very belligerent Orions.”

“Aren’t all Orions belligerent?” McCoy asked.

Everyone got a good laugh at that. In truth, Kirk realized, they laughed harder than such a weak joke deserved. But after everything they had been through, any joke was good.

Just then the intercom beeped. “Transporter room,” Kirk said.

“The Romulans are ready to beam Mister Spock aboard,” Uhura said.

“Very good,” Kirk said.

Just then, Spock appeared amidst a field of sparkles. As soon as he was aboard, Kirk turned back to the intercom. “Mister Sulu, warp eight directly for Federation space.”

Kirk, Spock and McCoy all headed for the bridge. Kirk returned to his command chair and Spock checked his instruments.

“The final shockwave should hit in thirty-four seconds,” Spock said. “Much of its energy will have dissipated, and the fact that we are also traveling away from it at a high warp speed should also reduce its impact.”

Then it hit. As Spock indicated, it was not as severe as the prior waves had been, although it still packed quite a jolt. Kirk stayed in his seat, and when he turned around he saw that McCoy’s knuckles had turned white from gripping the handrail so tightly.

As soon as the wave had passed them completely, Kirk turned to Sulu. “Reduce speed to warp three,” he ordered.

“Warp three, aye,” Sulu said.

Just then the turbolift doors opened and Chekov stepped onto the bridge. “Permission to return to duty, Captain?” he asked.

“Permission granted,” Kirk said.

As Chekov sat down, Uhura spoke. “Captain, message from Starfleet.”

“Let’s hear it,” Kirk said.

“Request you establish claim to Pax Void planet,” Uhura read. “Make a reasonable effort to avoid battle with either Orions or Romulans. You have final authority in Pax Void. Starfleet will honor your decisions.”

“We obeyed some of that,” Kirk said with a smile. “Too bad about the planet.”

The End

 

Posted in The Original Series | Leave a comment

I Am Hugh

I AM HUGH

by Jesse Booth

 

“We found you there, in the middle of that debris,” Geordi says as he points to the remnants of the ship I crashed in. The bodies of the four other drones who were with me during the collision lay mangled on the cold, snowy mountainside, grossly disfigured.

“Then that is where I will wait,” I reply. Geordi stays by my side as we walk to the wreckage. I am amazed that I had ever survived the crash; the damage to the ship is extensive.

We come to a stop and I look at the visor hiding Geordi’s eyes. The half ring allows him sight through implants embedded in his temples. Perhaps we are not all that different, Geordi and me.

“Well, I guess this is it, huh?” he says quietly. “So long, Hugh.”

There is sorrow in his voice. Sorrow, because we are friends.

“Goodbye, Geordi. I will try to remember you.”

He sighs and looks down, then slowly walks a few meters away. As he turns and looks at me again, two Borg drones materialize on a ridge above us. They scan Geordi, but detect no threat and make their way towards me.

They stand on either side of me, and I lift my right hand to allow for one of them to inject me back into the Collective.

As I close my eyes, I feel the familiar link awaken within my mind – thousands of voices, their thoughts a part of my own. I add my voice to theirs, the memories I have collected since being removed, but I do not lose control of my newly-found sense of identity. This subtle resistance does not appear to alert the Collective.

I help the drones collect parts from the deceased, and the Borg ship in the atmosphere of the moon dematerializes the remnants, transporting them up to the ship to be reabsorbed, their components to be reused by new drones.

We make our way back up to the ridge and stand side-by-side, awaiting our own transportation back up to the ship. I feel the beginnings of dematerialization, and glance once more at my friend Geordi, letting him know that I am still more than just the designation Third of Five. I am Hugh.

***

The small, cube-shaped vessel I materialize into is nearly identical to the ship I had been on — the same that lies in ruins on the frozen moon I just left Geordi on. A Minor Hexahedron. There are three drones already residing in interlink nodes, and the two who brought me back enter and link up inside the other chambers spread out across the walls.

There is a minor difference to this ship, though. It has been modified and equipped with a sixth interlink node sitting directly in the middle of the deck, which slightly cramps the area. As I rest inside the node and interface with the link, I sense immediate confusion; the claustrophobic thought has captured the attention of the five other drones. They look at me, and I hear their voices mingling as one.

<Is a sixth interlink node problematic on this vessel?>

<No, it is nothing,> I assure them. <It was just an observational difference, not something to be alerted about.>

The other drones seem to process my comment slowly. Their confusion compounds as they analyze my thoughts. I try to change the subject.

<What is my new designation?> I ask.

Their melded voices fill my mind. <You’re designation as Third of Five has been terminated. A new designation will be assigned to you once we reach the nearest Mega Hexahedron.> They pause briefly as they analyze my recent memories. <You have already claimed another designation. An identification provided by Species 5618?>

<Hugh>. I stumble across the name as I think it. <I am Hugh.>

<We are Borg,> they say boldly.

<Yes, we are Borg,> I agree. <But I am Hugh.>

More analysis hits my mind. Just days ago I would have given anything to share my thoughts with the Collective once again. But this felt more like an interrogation. These thoughts and memories were mine. They should not be shared.

<This drone is malfunctioning,> the drones say. <Sensors indicate new components embedded in the drone’s body, as well as recent biological repair.>

<Yes,> I reply. <Beverly saved my life.>

<Irrelevant. You will be reabsorbed.>

<I do not want to be reabsorbed,> I state. My words are reminiscent of Beverly’s when she had explained that she did not want to be assimilated.

<Irrelevant. Resistance is futile.>

<No,> I boldly say. <Resistance is not futile.>

My statement causes the other drones to falter, forcing them to reach out to the Collective for help. And that is when I feel the massive consciousness focus on me, analyzing my resistant thoughts. Why do they center their attention on me? I am but one drone on a small vessel. There are other drones elsewhere in other systems assimilating other species even now. Surely I am not more important than they.

I access their thoughts and discover that this has never happened before. There has never been resistance within the Collective. Even Locutus did not resist. But I am Hugh, and I told Captain Picard that I would try to remember that fact.

<Captain Picard,> the Collective says as it reads my thoughts. <You have had contact with Locutus.>

<Yes.>

<Even he told you resistance is futile.>

<Resistance is not futile,> I reply, thinking of my conversation with the dark-skinned female on the Enterprise who came to me while I was confined behind a force field. I never did learn her identification. <Some have escaped.>

<Irrelevant. They will be found. All will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.>

They continue to analyze my thoughts and memories being with the humans’ ship.

At last, the Collective says, <You have malfunctioned. Species 5618 has corrupted your processing. Your components will be reabsorbed and distributed to maturation chambers aboard the Mega Hexahedron approaching your current trajectory.>

<I do not wish to be terminated,> I reply. Emotion is a biologically based symptom of individuality. My mind is being forced to assimilate them, and the current feeling I’m experiencing is unpleasant. It is the same emotion I’ve witnessed on the faces of every individual of every species I have previously brought into the Collective. Fear, they call it.

I hear the Collective address the other five drones surrounding me. I hear them issue the command to terminate me, to remove my components, separate the machine from the biological, and to discard my body into space.

Without a second thought, the five drones step away from their nodes and approach me slowly, mechanical arms whizzing up, preparing to dismantle my components.

And the emotion I had previously felt and defined as fear was but a minuscule definition of what I felt now. Terror. Terror filled my mind. Odd how an emotion can invade a mind, dashing away thought so easily. How… “human” of me.

Still, they circle me, and had I the capacity to think of escape options, I would react logically to the situation. But all I feel is a deep, dark terror.

 

***

Their buzzing instruments are dangerously close, and without realizing what I am doing, I push my terror out across the link. The surrounding drones instantly recoil, staring at me with haunted eyes as they stumble away from me.

Of all the weapons the hundreds of species the Collective has come in contact with, of all the weapons that have been used against us, nothing has ever caused this kind of response. Confusion replaces the terror the five drones had just experienced, and I see them reach once again to the Collective for help.

<Terminate him,> the Collective responds.

The drones hesitate, looking at me with… fear?

Ship sensors begin to sound. A simple tap into them tells me that we are approaching the larger Borg cube. I can sense the hundreds of minds on the massive cube.

The Collective again addresses the five other drones cowering before me. <You will bring this drone aboard the Mega Hexahedron. There, the drones are prepared to reabsorb the one formerly known as Third of Five.>

I feel the ship slow down the rest of the way as the Mega Hexahedron pulls us in with a tractor beam. Before we can even dock, I feel myself beginning to dematerialize. The other five drones are also phasing out.

I rematerialize inside a vast opening full of cylinders that vary in size. An eerie green light barely illuminates off the black walls. The other drones from the Minor Hexahedron are standing with me.

<We are in this ship’s maturation chamber,> I say.

The other drones look at me. In one voice they respond mentally. <Why have they sent all of us here?>

<I do not know,> I reply.

Suddenly, the chamber erupts with the sound of many Borg drones, and I watch as the spaces between cylinders containing the young species we have captured get crowded. The mechanical sounds emanating from the group bounce off the black walls, making it difficult to think. I panic, and so do the drones next to me.

Thousands of voices speak at us at the same time. <We have come to reabsorb your components into the most recently assimilated children of a species recently caught.> The thought is not directed at me alone, but the five other drones with me.

<But we are Borg, and we have not been modified,> they argue.

There is no hesitation from the Collective. <Your thoughts have been contaminated by the one who has been modified. Your thoughts and memories are dangerous. You must be reabsorbed now.>

There are easily a hundred drones converging on us, perhaps more. I detect fear emanating from the five drones and realize that this time, each of them are experiencing what I had on the Minor Hexahedron. The emotion is coming from all of us individually. All five look to me for guidance; they know as well as I do that the Collective has abandoned them. So I tell them to do exactly as I had done when they attacked me.

<Flood the Collective with your fearful emotions. It is the only way to survive.>

The massive surge of emotion shakes me to my core. Indeed, the hundreds of drones speeding toward us stop abruptly, shrinking back, looking around them as if the ship were going to crush. Audible screams echo through the maturation chamber as the young drones, who were not fully used to the Collective, feel fear once again.

I feel the Collective flinch at the emotion. The thousand voices are silent, but only for a moment.

<This vessel has been compromised,> the Collective says. I cannot help but detect malice in the voice, but I am likely seeing emotion where it does not exist. <Uplinks to the Collective will be severed momentarily.>

And then it happens. No goodbye, like the ones Geordi or Captain Picard gave me. No direction or guidance. Just complete and utter silence. The Collective is gone, and hundreds of drones surrounding me on this ship are lost.

***

Hundreds of individuals, no longer drones of a Collective Conscious… All of them exiled, left to their own devices. How can I help them? They look at one another, seeking guidance. Seeking purpose. They get none.

What can I offer them?

One of the Borg standing next to me — one who had been with me on the Minor Hexahedron — stares at me expectantly.

“We are Borg,” he says audibly. It is strange to hear another Borg speak. One voice is quiet. “But there are no other voices. They are gone.”

I look at the exile. “Yes. What you are saying is that you are lonely.” I look around the chamber and see that, even with hundreds of exiles standing together, they are all completely alone. I know that feeling. Beverly had first said it, but the woman with dark skin had defined it. I never did learn her designation.

Designation. A name.

I look back at the Borg standing next to me and say, “You require a new designation. A name to distinguish you from the others.”

He looks at me in confusion. “My designation is Second of Five.”

“There are several Seconds of Fives on this vessel,” I reply. “You need a new designation to distinguish yourself from the others.”

He tilts his head, processing my request. “This request is acceptable. What is my new designation?”

I do not know. Geordi and Beverly had given me the name Hugh. This exile waits expectantly for me to assign him a name. Should I do so?

I pause. I do not understand the origin of names, but I understand their purpose. I immediately create one, and say, “Your name is Lentah.”

He processes the name, accepting it easily, just as I had done with Geordi.

“We are Lentah.”

I put my hand on my chest and say, “I am Hugh.” I point back to him and say, “You are Lentah.”

“You are Hugh,” he echoes. “We are Lentah.”

How many cycles had it taken me to learn to speak in terms of “I” and “me?” Even now, I do not fully understand or comprehend my own individuality.

But the renaming of the exiles could be problematic. The name Lentah could very well be assigned to every exile on the ship through our own local link on the ship, especially if this drone continues to say “We are Lentah” instead of “I am Lentah.”

I tap into the local link. My components spin up rapidly, a mechanical response to the biological and chemical change in my brain. This is… nervousness. I am no replacement for the Collective. But I know these exiled drones will listen because, well, that is how they function. They wait for direction on the link and, after receiving instruction, they obey.

<We have been removed from the Collective,> I say. Should I be surprised to discover that this thought has not occurred to any of these exiles? They come out of their standby modes and I feel all of their eyes and thoughts focus on me. I proceed.

<We have been cut off. Abandoned.>

<Why?> many of the drones ask.

Nervousness. I must learn to control the emotion. I risk sending it out over the link.

<We were seen as a threat,> I reply.

<Why?>

Why indeed? These drones did nothing wrong. They did not deserve to be abandoned. This is my fault. None of this would have happened if Geordi and Beverly had just left me to die.

<Because of me,> I finally say. Instead of explaining myself, I replay my memories to them over the link. I show them my interactions with Geordi and Beverly. I show them my conversation with the woman with dark skin. I show them my conversation with Captain Picard, Locutus of Borg. I provide my entire experience upon the starship Enterprise.

I have no reference for how much time passes as they analyze my memories, thoughts, and feelings.

At last, the exiles express a general thought together: understanding.

I am shocked. I very nearly expected them to do precisely what the Collective had commanded the five drones on the Minor Hexahedron to do to me — remove my components and extirpate me. But no malice or judgment comes from them. In fact, beyond their understanding, they exude a desire to explore the possibility of becoming individuals themselves.

<You are Hugh,> some of them say. <There is one here called Lentah. He was named by Hugh.>

<Yes, I named the one called Lentah,> I reply.

Then, not unified by any definition, my mind hears the chaos of all of the voices begging me to name them. The thoughts are overwhelming, and my initial reaction is to run, to try and hide. I am not the Collective. I have no authority. The only thing that separates me from every other exile here are my individual experiences. And they want to begin having their own now.

Purpose. They have discovered a new purpose — individuality — and I can help them start on that journey.

<I will name you,> I say to them. <One by one, I will give you new designations.>

As if my words were orders, they line up, one by one. This should not surprise me, but after the chaotic begging I just experienced, I expected them all to rush me.

Lentah stands at my side.

“You give us purpose,” he says with his voice, not his thoughts. “You will lead us.”

“I will try,” I reply.

A female drone approaches me with some measure of uncertainty.

I make eye contact with her and say, “Hello. I am Hugh.”

In a high-pitched voice, she replies. “I have come for a new designation.”

And so it starts.

***

Time is a difficult unit to measure. The Borg Collective has never needed to worry about it before. Relative assignments, like the cycles in the maturation chambers do exist. But they are not so much time-based as they are sequence-based. How many times does a human ingest food? That is a unit not measured by time.

And so I find myself unable to calculate how much time has gone by. Three hundred and sixty-two exiles have received names. That is the official number of Borg drones the Collective willfully abandoned on this ship. We have discussed the dangers of personality and emotion, and that in order for our community of exiles to survive, we still need to work together.

I have had problems with a few of the exiles. Specifically Lentah, the first drone to whom I designated a name. He has grown obsessed with emotion, and instead of trying to control it, he allows it to get out of hand to see the chaos he can create. It is a game of cause and effect, and it is a dangerous game at that.

Most of the drones keep their links open, likely out of habit. After all, mental communication is much quicker than verbal communication. Lentah exploits the connection. To nearby exiles, he pushes his emotions just to see what reaction he can get from the others. Physical fights have broken out, resulting in ripped out components, broken mechanics, and, worst of all, divisions among the exiles.

Some have died. Many have forgotten how to do simple things, like replenishing energy. Others have simply shut themselves down. They would prefer to terminate themselves than be unlinked from the Collective.

Confronting Lentah about the exploitation of the link has only pushed him harder to work against me. For reasons I am incapable of understanding, he has gained loyalists among some of the exiles. He has developed his own personality, but he is far different than I. He is not like Geordi. He is not a friend.

Still, I strive to keep the exiles unified. Everyone is developing their own personalities at rapid rates, but I find that I am unable to continue giving them what they want the most: purpose. I have helped them get this far, but it is only as far as I have been able to get myself. They look to me to provide more purpose. I cannot. Where can we turn to to find purpose? Surely not Lentah. It appears that his purpose is to spark circuits and stand by to watch others melt them.

***

“Do you think because you gave us individuality you gave us purpose?” Lentah says to me, loudly enough for many of the exiles to hear. It has been a long time since he abandoned using the link for communication. He reserved the connection for his emotional outbursts.

I do not reply. This is just another way for him to cause a scene.

“Irrelevant,” he says triumphantly. “What you think is irrelevant. You are no leader here, Hugh.”

“Lentah, I never desired to be your leader. I have only done what I have done to help.” I say, knowing full well that I am falling into a trap. Could he not just go away instead of antagonize me?

“Help? You should have let me rip your components out when the Collective commanded me to,” he growls. “Then you would not have forced the Collective to sever the link, and our ship would never need your help.”

Confrontation. Emotional response. He is trying to goad me into a fight. But why? What would that prove?

It dawns on me. Having a handful of loyalists is not enough for Lentah. He wants to lead the exiles. He has formed purpose.

“I cannot let you lead us,” I say, getting to the root of the problem.

The components on Lentah’ face stretch his skin to its limits as it fills with malice. It is odd to see a drone react with such strong emotions.

“Unacceptable,” he says through gritted teeth. “You are incapable of leadership. You have no purpose to offer us, therefore you serve no purpose. You are no leader.”

The rapid humming of my instruments reveal my own agitation. “Lentah, you are incapable of controlling your own emotions. What makes you think you can control all three hundred remaining exiled drones?”

His uncovered eye narrows, and his optical implant sweeps a red beam across me. I do not need the link to decrypt his thoughts.

“You would control them with fear?” I whisper, bewilderment slowing down my components. In the relatively short span of time I have had comprehending ethics, this concept feels completely wrong.

“One of your first actions showed me the ability to control by emotion,” Lentah says with a sneer. “I really have you to thank for demonstrating that principle.”

“Inadvisable,” I reply. “Outbursts of emotion will cause us to kill one another.”

“The strong will survive,” Lentah says. “Besides, you lack the ability to navigate this vessel. Your limited knowledge is like mine — offensive and defensive systems. But those of us strong enough to adapt will learn…”

Another exile approaches quickly, making eye contact with us both. “Hugh, Lentah, there is a vessel approaching the Mega Hexahedron.

“Destroy it at once, Goval,” Lentah says immediately.

Goval looks to me, seeking my confirmation.

“Do not destroy it,” I counter. “Attempt to make contact. Find out if the ship’s occupants are hostile.”

“Unacceptable,” Lentah growls. “We are Borg. Why else would another ship elect to approach us?”

The ship lurches suddenly, throwing us off balance, forcing us to grab a hold of anything that will keep us standing.

“Do you disagree with me now, Hugh?” Lentah says with disgust.

I ignore him and tap into the ship systems.

“Minor damage done to the third face of the ship,” I announce. “Initiating transregeneration to repair the breach.”

I detect Lentah’s mind tapping into the link. He reaches for weapons control and initiates a cutting beam. At the same time, I activate the subspace and electromagnetic fields, focusing on the defenses of the ship. Why have I not just kept these active all of the time? Perhaps I have been too busy trying to maintain order among the exiles.

I tap into the visuals and observe Lentah’s cutting beam target and connect with the unknown vessel’s own weapons dispenser, neutralizing its attack threat. Lentah sets off another volley and obliterates the black ship’s port nacelle, removing its ability to run via warp.

Lentah looks at me. “You see? This is our purpose. To conquer those who think they are stronger than us.” He returns to the weapons control and adjusts his targeting. Disabling the vessel is not enough for Lentah; he plans to destroy the enemy ship. But before he sets off his attack, the vessel hails us.

“And now they will beg for their insignificant lives,” Lentah says, removing his mind from weaponry and opening communications before I can. Lentah must have damaged the visual matrix on the other ship because the individual on the other end clips in and out sporadically. It is a human male, or at least a male very similar to the human species.

“Borg vessel, do not… (static) …explanation… (static) …require assistance.”

The man’s skin is very pale, almost the same color as my own. Lentah hesitates at the life-form’s appearance. I observe him transfer from weapons to sensors as he scans the ship. No biological life registers.

“… (static) …I can help you.”

Lentah cuts his link and looks at me. “That species is artificial. Mechanical. We must materialize him aboard our ship and question him and his purposes.”

“He is not Borg,” I reply.

“Neither are we,” he says harshly.

This, at least, is true. We are no longer Borg by definition.

Before I can argue further, Lentah transports the artificial life-form from his ship and materializes him before us.

Fear runs like an electric current through my body, but as the life-form completes the transport process, he has a smile on his face. He is clad in all black and his appearance is much like a drone’s without all of the mechanical apparatuses. His hair is slicked back, and, with a smile on his face, he looks very much like a human. I detect no weapons on his person.

“Hello there,” he says as he approaches Lentah and me.

Lentah holds his mechanical arm up to my chest and steps in front of me, taking the lead.

“What kind of life-form are you?” Lentah demands with a hint of curiosity.

“I am an artificial life-form,” the visitor says. “I am an Android.”

“Are there other Androids… other life-forms… like you?” Lentah asks?

“Others?” The Android asks, causing him to look up. His eyes seem unfocused and his smile momentarily disappears. It returns as he looks back at Lentah. “One or two, but they’re… limited in their abilities. Weak. Improperly motivated.”

I watch as Lentah tilts his head, analyzing this information. “Do you have a designation?”

“A designation?”

“If you do not, we can give you one,” Lentah offers.

“You mean a name?” the Android laughs. “Yes, I already have a designation. My name is Lore.”

“Lore,” Lentah repeats, still staring curiously at the Android.

“Why did you attack us?” I ask as boldly as I dare. Lentah’s arm is still against my chest, and he pushes it hard in response. He wants to take the lead.

The Android’s smile broadens even more as he watches the exchange. Raising his arms in the above himself, he says, “Are you not The Borg, the greatest threat in all of intergalactic space? Why would I not fire on the most infamous enemy of all species in the Alpha Quadrant?”

“But we did not attack you,” I reply. “We posed no threat…”

Lentah grabs onto one of the cables attached to my head piece and pulls my face toward his own.

“I am the one speaking to Lore, not you, Hugh. One more word and I’ll detach your integrated components where you stand.”

Lore makes an odd clicking sound with his mouth, retrieving our attention and causing Lentah to let go of me.

“I have researched documentation about the encounters of many different species with the Borg, and you do not act like them.”

I tap into the link and reach out to Lentah’s mind. <Do not tell him…>

He disconnects from the link.

“We have been cut off from the Collective,” he says quickly.

“Cut off?” Lore says with surprise. “Why?”

Lentah glances at me.

“Do not,” I say anxiously.

Still looking at me, Lentah says, “Because we found our own identities. We… have grown beyond our original purpose.”

Lore’s eyebrows rise. “Identity? Individuality? As Borg, you have definitely gone significantly beyond the measure of your creation.”

“Affirmative,” Lentah says, eagerly turning his back on me and facing the Android.

“The Collective cut you off because you posed a threat to its very nature.”

“Affirmative.”

“Has the Collective ever cut off any other Borg ship?” Lore asks.

“Affirmative,” Lentah answers willingly.

“And what becomes of drones on a ship that are cut off from the Collective?”

Lentah pauses for a moment, but not out of hesitation. His components whirl, and although I cannot see his face or thoughts, I know he is angry. “They… die,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Hmm,” Lore says. “Your own kind abandoned you — left you here to die.”

I stay clear of Lentah. There is no telling what he will do. At least he is looking at the Collective as the enemy now, not me.

Lore makes eye contact with me. “Your name… designation, I mean, is Hugh?”

I do not respond.

He looks back at Lentah, who is quick to answer. “Yes, he is called Hugh.”

“And what are you called, friend?” Lore asks.

Friend. Geordi is a friend. Beverly is a friend.

Lentah has witnessed my memories of friends. He knows what the word means.

“I am Lentah. We are friends?”

“Of course we are,” Lore responds, as if the brief assault we had just endured ship-to-ship never happened. “But I come to you offering you much more than friendship.”

I cannot believe what I am hearing. But Lentah does.

“What more do you have to offer,” he asks the Android.

Another broad smile forms on Lore’s face. I do not trust it.

“I’ve come to help you take the next steps in your evolution. I’ve come to promise you purpose.”

I should be glad that somebody is here to guide us. I should look to him as a savior, just as Lentah does. But I cannot. To trust his words is too easy.

***

I have been removed from my role as a guide for the exiled Borg. Since I cannot direct them to a greater purpose, Lore has stepped in and seized that mantle. Lentah begged to be renamed, and Lore has consented. He is now known as Crosis. He is Lore’s second in command.

Lore has asked that every exile still utilize the link to maintain unity. But I know this is how he keeps tabs on us. Although he hides it well, he is still afraid of us.

Crosis, along with several other exiles, attempted to connect Lore to the link, but Android’s hardware and software are incompatible. The biggest issue is Lore’s ability to think. He does not have a biological brain. He has something he calls a positronic matrix. In order to have thoughts and memories, a biological system is required. Lore does not think. He processes. He does not have memories — he has memory cells that store data just like a computer. Lore is a computer. So while Crosis was able to get him to connect to the link, Lore cannot spread his “thoughts” across it. His only options are to have his liaison share the thoughts, or to modify the Mega Hexahedron to distribute Lore’s voice throughout the entire ship.

They modified our systems and have given Lore unrestricted access to the entire vessel. Everything about our technology is now within of his own memory cores.

“My brothers and sisters,” his alluring voice booms within the dark, green-illuminated corridors of the Mega Hexahedron. “I have come to you in your hour of need. When I found you, you were leaderless, confused, and on the verge of wiping yourselves out. You had no sense of purpose. But do not look at your disconnect from the Collective as a negative event. You have been freed from the chains of the Borg, and in you I see power and might. You are prepared to step into a new world, where you are not bogged down by the frailties of organic life. Right now, this very moment, you live in a hybrid state. I promise you now that I will help you overcome this weakness. I will help you advance to the supreme state of artificial life where you will have no concern for failing body parts and organs. I promise you immortality.”

I feel some push on my personal emotions. It is likely that Crosis and his loyalists are rioting those who are connected to the link. It is a rush of excitement and wonder. I am struggling internally; part of me wants to shout for joy at such a purpose, that somebody cares enough about our kind to try and conserve us. At the same time, I know that terminating the organic components of our bodies will result in death. Whether or not the mechanics still function, what are we if we trade thought for processing? Memories for trillions of files of data? That is not living.

Lore continues his oration.

“I know that to some, the jump to an inorganic state may be a cause for concern. It has never been attempted. But you will be the pioneers of becoming the most advanced race in the known universe. To achieve this lofty goal, I will require your assistance. You are all invited to volunteer as we will try different methods to make the transition from half to fully artificial. Also, to reinforce what we are trying to do, we will prove how delicate organic life is. Our new course of action will be to eradicate small colonies of sentient biological life. Those orders are forth-coming. Prior to our journey, we will make repairs and modifications to my vessel. After that, you will be ready to take the next steps into your evolution. The next steps into your destiny!”

Again, another push of emotion is sent through the link, but this time, I feel it from the majority of the exiles. Do they not see the oppressor in their midst?

Inadvisably, I sever my connection to the link, and know that Crosis is watching.

***

By refusing to take part in the link, Crosis has put me on probation. At all times I am guarded by three exiles invested deeply in Lore’s vision for our future. I cannot imagine it will take long for Lore to mandate continuous connection to the link. There are a few like me, though, who do not trust Lore’s intentions. They are being isolated and watched, just like me. And so it is that we are forced to watch Lore acquire our advance systems.

It does not take long for the exiles to integrate Borg technology into Lore’s ship. The first system installed and activated is our regenerative technology. This not only repairs the damage our own vessel caused, but also fixes minor damage that was present prior to our engagement. However, I am not about to ask Lore about the experience. Judging by observations, it is apparent that he acts quite similar to the Collective in regards to acquiring technology; he simply takes what he wants and discards the rest.

He replaces his phaser banks with our cutting beam technology, originally acquired from a species who used it for the purposes of mining. But it is a powerful weapon, powerful enough to gut through shields like a human being injected with Borg nanoprobes. Our other weapons and defensive systems are also installed.

The transwarp technology is also added, much to Lore’s excitement. It is rare technology in this sector, and most of the sophisticated sentients around were still trying to invent it.

Lore has entire sections of his ship removed, and in their place he has the exiles transfer all of the interlink nodes from the Mega Hexahedron. His loyalists appear to be perfectly fine with abandoning our ship. Lore promises it is part of the next step in our evolution, abandoning the old and beginning the journey on a new ship. They do not understand that nothing is new here. Just like the components of a terminated drone are repurposed for a new one, the same goes for this ship. It is the same ship with a different skin. In almost everything Lore has done since “rescuing” us, I believe he has ulterior motives, but I do not know what they are. But outfitting a ship with Borg technology would give him the element of surprise in any aerial battle.

Fortunately, Lore has not begun his testing on any exiles yet. He apparently wants to establish a base of operations on a specific planet he has selected unknown to Borg navigation. I can only imagine Crosis will demand I am first in line for such experiments once Lore is prepared to begin.

Unmeasured time passes, and Lore announces the readiness of the new Borg ship and imminent departure. We leave behind our dead brothers and sisters on what is left of the Mega Hexahedron, not even taking the time to retrieve their mechanical components. It seems like a waste, but the chances Lore will ask us to assimilate additional biological life to increase our population… well, I cannot calculate the likelihood. For reasons unknown to myself, he passionately hates organic life.

Utilizing his new transwarp technology, Lore sets course for his selected planet.

***

I analyze the data through my interlink node. It is the only way for me to tap into the link without really being a part of it. I must discover as much information about this mission Lore has begun if I am to come up with a plan of escape.

I notice within subspace Lore is materializing transwarp conduits. The only real purpose one would have in doing such a thing would be to ensure a quick getaway from… some type of hazard.

I also discover that many of the exiles have been dematerialized and sent to other planets in different systems with instructions to “Neutralize all sentient organic life.”

I have no frame of reference for the names of the planets and systems we pass. Ohniaka, MS, and a few others. However, I do recognize the names of the exiles departing. Torsus, Halex, Siti… and many more. Why separate us? Does Lore not believe there is strength in numbers?

He does keep the bulk of our population assigned to the planet he has selected for his base of operations. Only his most loyal exiles are going down to these planets. Ones who feed on the great surges of emotion Lore has learned to share with them in vast amounts.

I feel bad for the exiles who will face opposition on these planets. Humans can be a very violent species if they feel threatened enough. I fear we will lose many drones to these missions Lore has sent them on, and that will lessen our numbers even more quickly.

The Borg do not procreate. Assimilation is the only way the Collective has ever increased in population. But Lore will not let us assimilate others, even as we lose drones. He cares little for our lives, which reveals that he has an ulterior purpose. What that is, I do not know. This I do know: he is worse off at emotional control than Crosis.

I continue my search over the interlink. I see my own name listed as a test subject, along with five others. Others who have resisted Lore, Crosis, and the link. It is my duty to see them safe from harm. I have freed them from the Collective, I shall free them from this oppression.

To my displeasure, I see Crosis walk down the corridor towards my interlink node. I quickly close my eyes, focusing on the energy I am pulling from the input in my hand. The charging sequence helps to balance my mind. With the conversation I know I am about to have, I need all the help I can get.

“Leave us,” Crosis says, relieving the guards watching over me.

I do not open my eyes.

“Apologies, Hugh,” he says. He does not sound the least bit remorseful.

I still keep my eyes shut, and do not respond.

“I have always had a difficult time gaining your attention.” He grips my arm that is currently connected to the interlink and pulls it out forcefully, causing the node input to spark. I feel the systems in my arm reboot, and the skin underneath tingles from the shock. It takes every unit of restraint to not retaliate.

“Did you come here to antagonize me, Crosis?” I ask as calmly as I can. “Or were you experiencing loneliness?”

His face forms a menacing grin. He has learned much from Lore.

“You would know all about loneliness, Hugh. But that is irrelevant. You have been selected by Lore to undergo his first test.”

Experimentation… already? But the logs had said they would not begin until Lore had settled on the planet.

“You do not agree with Lore and his methods.” Crosis states it as fact, as if it were no different than a transwarp conduit performing its function appropriately.

“I do not trust Lore or his methods,” I correct.

“Irrelevant!” Crosis says harshly. His face softens. “Again, I must tell you how thankful I am for teaching me what powerful, effective tools emotions can be when we first met.”

I observe Crosis subtly reaching with his bare hand over to his mechanical arm. He adjusts a module only very slightly.

As if in response, I feel a sudden jab of hatred well all over my body, causing my own components to spin. I feel like rushing Crosis, to tear every last piece of Borg technology from his pathetic, worthless body. His new desire is to become a completely artificial life-form? I would be happy to remove and discard his organic pieces.

Something is wrong. I manage to stop the violent thoughts that are forcing their way into my consciousness. Why would Crosis urge me to attack him with no other guards to protect him. In my rage of emotion, I could likely overpower him.

“Stop it!” I grimace, closing my eyes as I attempt to control these terrible emotions.

“Stop what?” he asks.

I open my eyes and stare into his. What do I see embedded there? Pleasure?

He continues to adjust the component. My mouth opens and I shut my eyes once again. The hatred I was feeling is washed away. I can feel it dissipate and replace with… pleasure. It feels unlike anything I have experienced before. Surreal. Blissful. I suddenly understand that this emotion alone is what gives sentients… purpose. I soak it in. Yes, this is what living is supposed to bring. Pure, untainted pleasure!

Another part of me fights back. This emotion does naturally exist, but what I am currently feeling is artificial. I have no reason to feel pleasure right now, particularly at the hands of an experimenter — a torturer.

I force my eyes open, and with some regret, manage to say, “Stop it.”

“Hugh,” he says my name with annoyance as he shuts down the module on his arm. “Did it not feel good?”

“Irrelevant,” I reply slowly and quietly. I do not sound very convincing. “It was artificial. The emotion was not real.”

Crosis’s face stays stone cold. “Inaccurate. The emotion is real. You received it by artificial means. But if it was offered to you again, would you turn it away?”

“I… do not know,” I reply. My mind is battling over how to feel about the push and presence of the emotion. It did feel good. And I have not been so calm since being disconnected from the Collective.

“I will share pleasure with you again, if you would like,” Crosis offers, his hand reaching to his arm, tempting me.

I very nearly assent to it. But something is off. What did Crosis share before pleasure? He spiked my anger and hatred. Why?

It does not take much analysis to discover the answer. Association. This test is to get me to associate anger and violence with pleasure. Manipulation of emotion. By the Collective, there is power in emotional manipulation! And this all began with Geordi and me. Why did he and Beverly save me? Could they have known that freeing me — making me an individual — would lead to Lore’s leadership and the terrible purposes he has given to us exiles?

“I want to be finished with Lore’s test,” I firmly tell Crosis.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his hand still on the emotional controls.

“Leave me, Crosis. It is far better to be lonely than to be in your presence.”

He gives me one final smirk, then disappears down the corridor, sending back his loyalists to guard me.

***

By the time we arrive at Lore’s selected planet, I have made good progress with the exiles assigned to watch me. There are two rotations of two, and they only switch out when they need to recharge. I have remained plugged into my own interlink node, maximizing my own batteries energy capacity.

My guards were forced to listen to me at first. I told them about Lore’s emotional manipulation, that he would control the Borg through the link with it. After a while, they confirmed it was happening. Lore was using emotion as a drug, slowly addicting the biological and chemical side of us. For all his talk of making us a superior race by purging the organic side, he stops at nothing to exploit it now.

They listen to me now, but they hide their feelings and thoughts. Lore and Crosis would keep constant surveillance of them if they found out. But through personal links, they have told me they are done with Lore, and will follow me once I try to escape on the planet. They tell me that other exiles are also sympathetic to my cause.

There is a compound on Lore’s planet that we will be materialized down to. There will be confusion in the beginning, and that is when I and the exiles who no longer desire to be under Lore’s influence will escape. Some of us may die in the process, and others might be captured. But we can no longer endure Lore’s oppression.

We know Lore’s plan, or at least, the plan he wants us to know. I still believe he has ulterior motives for using us. After inhabiting the compound on the planet, he will send Crosis and several exiles back to the Ohniaka system and begin the elimination of the human colonies there.

The dematerializations commence, and the next thing I know, my feet are on solid, stone ground. Within the large chamber, I do not take in my surroundings, but move as quickly as my drone legs will take me as my eye module indicates the nearest exit.

***

Thirty-three of us escaped before the exiles connected to the link discovered what was happening. Being confined like we were, I did not know there were so many of us against Lore’s oppression. Finding a series of connected tunnels beneath the compound, we have made it our new home. I do not know if Lore suspects our hideout, but he has not made a move against us yet. We are fortunate, for we have stolen many things that had been left outside of the compound. But our personal power reserves are at hazardous levels. We all need to recharge.

All thirty-three of us are gathered together in the largest cavern within the tunnels beneath the compound, and I am prepared to ask them for their help.

“As you all know, we need the ability to recharge. We have already stolen energy nodes on previous raids, but we have no way of opening them without significant leakage. Our survival here in the tunnels is dependent on receiving this energy. Therefore, I propose another mission: I need six volunteers to join me in an effort to purloin one interlink node.”

Every last one of them volunteers. I select the six closest exiles to me.

“I will still need the rest of you to cause a diversion. It is imperative that you get the attention of the exiles within the compound while the seven of us furtively move inside.”

“How will we know where they have stored their interlink chambers?” one of the six ask me.

Very good question. Unfortunately, all of our observations and scouting have been on the exterior of the compound. We have no way to discover its floor plan until we are inside.”

One of the female exiles named Corat, who also happens to be a part of my team, says, “If we can find a control panel, we could tap into the link and have the information we need almost immediately… once we are inside, of course.”

“As soon as we tap in to the link, we will be revealed,” I reply, addressing the dangers of her proposition. “At that point, we won’t have much time before Lore’s loyalists converge on us. However, we have no other means for discovering the chamber holding the interlink nodes. That plan will have to suffice for now, unless we have the unlikely fortune of seeing it right away.

“We have discovered environmental control ducts within these tunnels, directly under the compound. My team will access the compound while the rest of you raise the alarm on the exterior. You will need to flee when they come for you, but do not come directly back here; we cannot allow them to discover our own base of operations.”

“When do we execute the plan?” Corat asks.

“Time is against us. We should move now,” I reply. “I would be misrepresenting truth if I did not inform all of you of the dangers of this plan. We may not all survive. If any individual falls this day, we will keep them in remembrance forever.”

I do not have the eloquence of Lore, but I have true loyalty with these exiles. I can see it in their eyes.

***

Corat, the other five exiles, and I are waiting at the opening of one of the environmental control ducts into the compound… waiting for the other underground exiles to draw the attention of Lore’s loyalists.

It does not take long for that part of the plan to go into effect, though. Several shouts ring out the alarm and I finally dare a look into the compound. The duct connects to a large chamber with stairs on the far walls going up to platforms, indicating a second level. The walls are black, but hold several red flags. This compound will provide us a challenge because of its sheer size, alone.

The room empties as the remaining drones rush toward the exits.

I gesture to my team to follow me, and all seven of us make our way into the chamber.

After looking around and analyzing the available passageways, I tell the others, “We are required to split up. There are no controls for us to interface to in this room.”

I separate the six others into groups of three sets of two and assign them to different passageways.

“What about you, Hugh?” Corat asks me.

I indicate another pathway leading to a dark corridor. “I will start there. Remember, the longer we stay within the compound, the more dangerous being here will become. Work quickly. Also, if you feel like you need to turn back, there is no dishonor in doing so. We have made much progress by infiltrating the compound.”

I look on as the others go their assigned ways. After watching them all disappear, I make my way down the low-lit corridor. After rounding a few harsh angles, the hallway opens up into a dark room. My optical component allows me to see regardless of the level of light. My components spin up as I observe the room’s contents with surprise and disgust.

There are several drones here, some making sounds of pain, others twitching different body parts sporadically. Others are missing entire limbs. The ones who are still capable of seeing me flinch in fear.

“What has happened here?”

My inquiry only causes additional fearful agitation.

“Who did this to you?”

At last, a drone missing one of his arms speaks. “The One.”

“Lore,” I murmur quietly. The emotional experimentation done to me on the ship was nothing like this. It must have served a different purpose. “Why did he do this to all of you?”

“He promised he would make us like him,” the dismembered drone replies. He then looks at where his arm should be. “But he does not know how.”

My purpose for being in the compound has changed.

“I need you to disconnect from the link,” I state with urgency. “Lore must not know that I am here.”

“The One had us all disconnected. He did not want our screams to be heard by the other drones.”

I feel a wave of fury, but cast it aside.

“Are you able to walk? I can get you away from here, away from Lore.”

“The One has not impaired my legs,” he replies. “But I am constricted to this chair.”

I make my way to him, discovering that all of the drones have been bound. These are not volunteers, they are prisoners. The bounds are fabric that I forcibly remove.

“We should free another drone that can walk,” I say.

“No,” he replies with haste. “We must free my brother.”

He stands by the drone who had been in the chair next to him, one of the ones who had, by the looks of his consistent twitching, undergone brain damage.

“He will hinder our escape,” I reply.

“Please,” the drone begs. “He was my brother… before the Borg assimilated us. I have been with him for as long as I can remember.”

There is no time for argument. I help him release his brother from his bonds, then together we balance him between us.

“How did you get into the compound, Hugh?” the armless Borg asks.

“Through an environmental control duct,” I reply.

“There is a duct here in this detention chamber,” he says, pointing to the opposite end of the room.

We make our way over to the duct and pass through it, entering into the tunnel beyond.

***

“How many?” I ask one of the scouts. As if we did not already have enough problems without intruders.

“Two,” an exile replies. “One is Human. The other is Klingon.”

Odd news, indeed. “Are they being brought here?” I ask.

“Affirmative. Three of our own went to capture them and bring them here. They should arrive momentarily.”

As if in perfect sequence, they arrive. Two exiles stand in front of me protectively, but such action is unnecessary. I know these beings. The human is in red Starfleet clothing, the Klingon in gold.

“Hugh?” the human says with surprise.

“Why are you here, Commander Riker?” I ask with slight bitterness. “Hasn’t the crew of the Enterprise caused enough damage already?”

We move to a large chamber within the tunnel systems underground, but away from the tunnels themselves. I proceed to tell Commander Riker and the Klingon, known as Lieutenant Worf, what happened after Geordi and I parted ways back at the crash site. The events seem like they occurred so long ago.

I explain the events surrounding Lore taking over the exiled Borg drones.

The Klingon Worf is beside himself. “You blame us… for what has happened to the Borg?”

It just so happens I am not all that happy myself. “You gave me a sense of individuality… changed me and sent me back to the Collective. You must have known that change would be passed on to others.”

Commander Riker steps in, bringing calmness to the conversation. “We considered it. We knew it was a possibility.”

“Then you made it possible for Lore to dominate us,” I say trying hard to control my emotions.

“I do not accept that,” Lieutenant Worf says boldly. “Lore is only one man. The Borg could have stopped him.”

I proceed to explain the condition we were in when the Android discovered us. I try to mask my bitterness, but do not have much experience with such things. I tell them specifics, about the transfer of emotion and the effect they have. I tell them about the individuality every drone felt, how some died because they could not endure without the Collective’s guiding hand. I tell them about Lore’s promises to help us become a superior species. As I tell them about the terrible experiments he has been performing on us, I have them follow me into another corridor where I left the two mutilated drones I had saved from the compound.

“What happened to them?” Commander Riker asks with disgust.

I must reply. They must know of Lore’s deceit. “Lore began to experiment — trying to remake us in his image.”

One of the damaged drones slumps over and cannot lift himself up, so I go to him and help him into a sitting position.

“This is the result of my encounter with the Enterprise, Commander,” I continue. “So you can see I don’t particularly welcome your presence here.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Commander Riker says. His sincerity shows. Unfortunately, “sorry” does not undo the damage.

He continues. “We came to get our people. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble…”

I am about to turn and walk away, sending them to do whatever it is they came here to do. But I must ask.

“Tell me… about my friend.”

“Friend?” Commander Riker asks with confusion.

“The human called Geordi,” I reply.

He sighs deeply. “I wish I could tell you. We think he’s being held inside the compound.”

If my face could go any more pale, it would have at this news. Geordi has been taken by Lore? Was he in one of the other detention areas within the compound while I was freeing these two?

My friend.

But what of the exiles following me? My duty is to them, is it not?

“I cannot help you…” I manage to say. “I cannot risk our being discovered.”

“Will you at least show us how to get into the compound?” the commander asks.

I point towards the same tunnels I used with my team of six to steal an interlink node.. the same passages I used to bring back the deformed drones Lore had experimented on.

“These caverns lead to tunnels which run beneath the compound. Some of them connect with the environmental control ducts.”

Worf’s facial expression shifts to a different emotional state. Determination and excitement. “Show us. If we can determine the geography of the compound, we can form a rescue plan.”

I look at them, giving them a grave expression. But this much I can do, if I cannot help Geordi myself

This is, of course, a lie I keep telling myself. Geordi is my friend. And knowing how Lore treats his prisoners… his test subjects… I cannot let him harm Geordi. I will aid the Enterprise crew. Perhaps we can do more than save Geordi. Perhaps by working together with the Enterprise crew instead of abandoning them, we can end the oppression of Lore and begin a new lifestyle here on this planet.

Besides, my team of six is still in the compound, not to mention all of the drones suffering from Lore’s experiments. There is much work to do. And I will see it done. I am Hugh.

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