Andromeda Galaxy
To the native inhabitants, the star their world orbited was called Usidra. Not that they knew what it was other than just a very bright, hot object that crossed the sky each day. Sentience, though just barely, came late to their world. Really a satellite of Usidra's only gas giant, it had been a frigid ball of ice until its star started swelling into a massive red giant. Almost as if overnight, Life appeared and grew at an amazing pace, reaching a point, in less than 730 million years, that took life on most worlds three billion years or more to achieve. Orbiting roughly 15,000 light years from the black hole at the center of the Andromeda galaxy its days were near their end. Unfortunately for this overachieving and resilient life their massive star was very old as it had long ago used up its hydrogen fuel and migrated off what was referred to by astrophysicists on other worlds as the main sequence.
With its Hydrogen depleted, the delicate balance between temperature pushing out on the star’s mass and gravity pulling it in began to tilt in gravity's favor. However, this allowed Usidra’s immense stores of helium to squeeze together even more densely, fusing and creating carbon, which in turn caused the temperature to climb again, now tilting the balance back in temperature's favor until the delicate equilibrium was reached and temperature and gravity once again counteracted each another. Now a red giant, Usidra gobbled up the Helium at a much faster rate than it had the Hydrogen. In fact, it now only had a few Hundred million, years left before it ran out of that fuel and started burning its Carbon, again contracting and expanding until the new equilibrium was met. It would continue this way on down the periodic table until it got to Iron. Because Iron cannot fuse and therefore cannot produce any additional energy, the balance started tilting back in favor of gravity and this time, irrevocably. As gravity took over, and without any heat to push back, the star collapsed in on itself at nearly a third of the speed of light and rebounded back outward in a cataclysmic explosion that momentarily made it the brightest object in the galaxy. In the process, the star threw off its shell of unconsumed gas and material in a supernova explosion, also obliterating the gas giant and its habitable moon, that had so tenaciously, and rapidly, though ultimately uselessly, clung to life.
Though it was the first world that Usidra had destroyed, it would not be the last. While the pressures generated by the star’s death throes threw off the out shell, they also compacted the core, compressing it under intense pressure into a super-massive, rapidly spinning ball. Starting out with over 12 solar masses, it now had just over two in a sphere slightly more than 15 kilometers across. In addition, like an ice skater that pulls in her arms to spin faster, the much smaller sphere contained all the angular momentum of the original star but was now spinning at a rate of nearly 600 revolutions a minute, becoming what would someday be called a pulsar. However, the explosion that tore the star apart was not symmetrical and it imparted an angular velocity that caused it to shoot away from its original location at a relatively quick pace of just over 2300 kilometers a second. As it left its wreckage behind, the remnant of Usidra was now on a course to encounter another star that would be in the prime of its life in a little more than three million years and once again bring havoc, misery, and death.
93,240 BC (Earth relative)
Siloen
Ontoldi Star System
Andromeda Galaxy
Senior scientist-companion Trigerlan Yuralen gazed out the view port on the bridge of the science ship Hope with a deep feeling of relief. Finally, he thought, after all this time we are going to ensure our planet’s safety.
Centuries earlier, scientists on Yuralen’s planet Siloen had discovered that a small, but extremely dense neutron star was going to pass through the center of their solar system, not far from the orbit of the second planet in the system. Although traveling at a leisurely 2,338.112 km/s, it was still quite distant and was not projected to arrive for almost two centuries still. However, it had been detected and its course mapped not long after Siloen first placed a telescope in space. Although only the size of Leeda, Siloen’s smallest satellite, it weighed more than twice the star system’s primary, Ontoldi. Indeed, although it implied certain death, the discovery had the effect of kick-starting the already growing space program, and pushed it into overdrive.
Siloen had been blessed with an evolutionary track that resulted in a dominant species that disdained conflict in favor of consensus and compromise. How such a race could develop in favor of other forms that would be more aggressive in their drive for survival had been studied for years by anthropologists and sociologists without success. Nevertheless, the outcome was an almost hive mentality, with everyone working for the good of all and single planet-wide government with a focused purpose. When it was discovered that Siloen only had just over two hundred years left to live and the planet had the technology to attempt such a grand undertaking, it did so with an obsessive determination. In the span of merely four lifetimes, the planet went from one that was barely putting astronauts into low orbit to a space-faring empire, with ships colonizing neighboring stars. However, an answer to the doom approaching them did not come easily, or quickly.
Trigerlan Yuralen had the initial idea. It started when a child asked him if it was possible to move a star and he laughed at the idea. But Yuralen was the right person at the right time. His specialty was warp technology and he immediately wondered if it in fact was possible to move a star. If a warp field could be built powerful enough and large enough to encompass a star it could be pushed it sub space. With a single minded focus that would do his race proud, he dived into the equations and found that the Neutron Star’s residual energy output could power the warp field indefinitely and its passage through the star system would go unnoticed to anyone in "normal" space. Already a scientist of some note, his idea quickly gained attention from the government and a laboratory was set up to put theory into practice. Nonetheless, practice was much harder than theory. A warp field had never been built that large and it had to be designed in such a way as to absorb and redirect the energy of the stellar remnant. In addition, time was critical, other ideas vied for funding and attention, and no one wanted to put all of their eggs in one basket in case an idea wasn’t successful. The two stars were curving towards one another but were not yet on a direct course. If the plan could be initiated before that happened, and the warp field functioned as planned, then the star would not end up slashing through the home star system.
Yuralen’s specialty was warp mechanics and it was his initial idea that finally won approval. No one, including himself however, ever imagined that it would take 30 years and a substantial percentage of the world's resources to actually implement. If anyone had known how long it would take, other solutions might have been undertaken before committing to this one. Entire careers were built on this planet-saving adventure but everyone looked forward with anticipation for the final act. Once completed however, Yuralen could look forward to spending time with his family and especially his grandchildren and even great-granddaughter. He could spend his time consulting and taking on only those projects that didn’t interfere with his life too much.
Breaking his revelry, the first officer coughed gently to get his attention.
“Yes, Commander”
“The fleet is in position and phase I is ready to initiate.”
The term Phase I was misleading in that it was actually the first phase of the last phase. The final parts just needed to be brought together in the correct sequence and position for the project to be complete. Phase I involved the 39 specially designed starships of the fleet positioning themselves around the star and emitting phased subspace harmonic waves. These waves would build upon one another and create a subspace shell around the star.
A common misconception about warp technology was that it was a propulsion system. Rather, warp technology simply created a subspace warp bubble around the ship that took it out of normal space and into subspace. Subspace in turn shortened the distances between any two points in the universe. The stronger the warp field the shorter those distances. However, the second component was the actual propulsion system itself. A ship without a propulsion system could activate its warp drive and find that although the destination appeared less far away, it would not get any closer without something to push it there. Any kind of propulsion would work, chemical rockets, ion thrusters, gravity fields, fusion exhaust, Proton degenerate exhaust, basically anything. However, the more powerful the propulsion system, the faster the travel in subspace. Thus there where two competing and somewhat contradictory facets to modern space travel. Prior to the ubiquitous gravity wave drive, reaction mass was needed to propel a craft. Usually this was in the form of hydrogen fusion via anti-matter. However, the energy requirements necessary to sustain the antimatter and create a warp bubble where immense. Since the power required to create a warp bubble took up less space than the propulsion systems, early civilian ships instead used traditional fusion engines with a strong warp bubble. This allowed speeds of light years per month, though at the cost of sub-light speeds. Alternatively, government ships required high speeds in both warp and sub-light and so engineers created fusion/anti-matter propulsion that gave it very good acceleration and speed in normal space and combined it with a weak warp bubble. The speeds were the same light years per month, but allowed the ship much better performance in normal space, at the cost of a much more complex and expensive ship.
Eventually of course, subspace energy taps using anti-matter to open a small rift were discovered and unimaginable, almost unlimited amounts of energy became available. Combined with the new gravity wave technology a ship could have a very strong warp bubble as well as very strong normal space propulsion systems. This of course was the best of both worlds, fast propulsion and shortened distances. Applying this concept to the star however was at first considered absurd. It was kind of like sweeping it under the carpet some argued. Others replied that even if it was, what was the problem? The star’s own speed would be retained while the star disappeared into subspace to travel along at its 2,300 km/s for the rest of its life.
“Very well, let’s get to it then.”
“Have all stations report position and status,” commanded First-among-equals Yuralen.
Although the science officer had just mentioned that every station had just completed reporting this very information, he let it go. Tension was dripping and if the expedition’s leader wanted it reported again then so be it.
Silent commands went out and updates once again came pouring into the command center to be displayed on the three dimensional map hanging in the middle of the room. One by one, ships reported their positions exactly where they were supposed to be, with a status of completely ready to commence.
Once satisfied all was in order, Yuralen nodded to himself and informed the First-among-equals engineer that he could begin the phase I countdown. Once the countdown completed in another two minutes, the 38 ships would use their modified warp projectors to emit the phased harmonic subspace field in a precise sequence around the star. It was this phased ripple around the star that would cause it to reinforce itself and if all went to plan, keep the star in subspace indefinitely.
“…3, 2, 1. Phase I initiated,” intoned the engineer.
One by fields of subspace energy poured out of each of the 38 stations in turn. Although at low power, a subtle haze could be discerned forming around the star.
“Station 38 reports phase one completion and output is nominal.”
“Very well,” Yuralen replied.
“Give the countdown for Phase II.”
Once again, commands went out and after a subdued two minute count, reports began to flow in. To an outside observer, the level of activity and the sophistication of commands may have seemed very basic for such a daring, massive, and important project. But that just went to prove the level of planning and training that had gone into the project. At this stage, speaking was almost unnecessary, and besides, most of it was really run by the massive computers in the command ship’s core.
Phase II involved the gradual increase in power to each of the 38 subspace emitters. This increase in a phased manner would build up for a sufficient amount of time until it became self-sustaining. Of course, on their own, the ships did not have the capability of creating a self-sustaining field. But calculations showed that if the star could be enveloped in a subspace field in the proper sequence, the star’s output would reverberate off the bubble and set up a recurring and self-sustaining energy well that would power the field indefinitely.
“Warp threshold at 28%,” droned the computer.
“Begin Phase III.”
Everyone looked at the chief scientist with expectant looks. Phase III was the final phase and once begun, there was no turning back. All stations would go to full power and within 30 minutes the warp threshold would be attained. No one knew exactly what to expect, but everyone expected something exhilarating, or terrifying, depending on the individual personality.
Each ship in the fleet, actually closer to immense space stations with engines in a sense since they possessed little more than station-keeping drives, increased output to their emitters in turn until each was at full power. At this point, a visible wave could be seen racing around a hazy globe encircling the star.
“Warp threshold at 81%,” repeated the main computer.
Everyone in the control center, actually everyone in the fleet was intensely focused on their displays and viewports, waiting for the moment when it, even if they did not know what 'it' was, would happen. Some preferred the enhanced and detailed views the computer gave them on their computers, while others needed to be able to say they saw it with their own eyes.
“Warp threshold at 95%.”
Almost there, but nothing appeared to be happening except for a wave washing itself around the star at and ever-increasing pace.
“Warp threshold at 99%.”
Silence pervaded the crew spaces of all 39 ships. Silently, as prearranged, the lead ship slipped into subspace in order to view the star’s entry. It maintained subspace links with the remaining ships in the fleet and could see the star from any angle.
“It’s happening!” someone nearly shouted.
Without warning, the crew of the science ship witnessed something that had never happened before. A neutron star suddenly disappeared from the displays of normal space and simultaneously winked into existence in subspace.
Cheers went up around the control center and could be heard coming from the other fleet ships. Someone or two slapped Yuralen on the back and his hand was shook several times. However, Yuralen, the perfectionist he was, continued to study the displays with intense concentration. It was not long before his diligence was rewarded, although not in a way that he would have wished.
Claxons began to shout their warnings as the star’s course, which had been curving toward their systems primary, started to imperceptibly change into a straight line. Wringing his hands, Yuralen began to shout orders.
“What is its rate of drift!” he almost screeched.
“Current rate of procession is 1.2 degrees per standard day.”
“Plot it for me.”
Someone gasped as the display updated with the new information to show that the neutron star would now pass within 20 million kilometers of Siloen.
“Everyone please quiet down.” Yuralen softly commanded.
“Although not planned for, it does not physically change anything and the final outcome is still the same. We have saved our planet from the meteor threat as well as the greater threat of this rogue star’s travel through our system.”
“We will continue monitoring the star and ensure it leaves our system as planned. At its current rate of travel, it will pass our star in just under 12 years.”
While celebrations went on around him and someone slipped a glass of Kruhen into his hand, Yuralen only stared at the Neutron Star sitting in Subspace and prayed fervently that he hadn’t missed anything.
9.3 years later…
Klaxons again railed around the fleet as sensors begin picking up anomalies from the neutron star. Yuralen was commed at his residence at the orbital community where he lived with his wife.
“Yes, yes, what is it.” Yuralen snapped. He didn’t like to be bothered on worship day.
“Sir, we have reports that the neutron star’s subspace bubble is weakening.”
Gasping, Yuralen responded forcefully.
“What do you mean weakening?”
“Well sir, it appears that the bubble strength has fallen from 150 percent to around 135 percent. Sir, if it keeps falling, the bubble will collapse.”
“Well of course it will collapse you fool,” snapped Yuralen. His testy response was a testament to how extreme he felt the situation had become.
A safety factor of over 50% had been factored into the warp bubble to account for variations in the Neutron star’s energy output, although the star had never varied more than a few hundredths of a percentage point from the norm. Now it was dropping by over several factors of ten and quickly. The enormity of the situation did not escape him as he quickly started spitting out orders.
"Put out a call to get all the warp stations we can as quickly as possible."
“Get the stations positioned to begin transmitting the subspace field. Next, contact the Coordinator and tell him to evacuate as many people as possible from the area. Just tell him that any delay will cost the lives of millions.”
Yuralen knew in an instant that if the neutron star where to reappear at its present location merely 30 million Kilometers distant that not only would the orbits of most of the planets be affected but the x-ray radiation coming of the star would also kill anyone in the open or not properly shielded. Their only hope was that the star was experiencing a momentary drop in energy output and would remain in its warp bubble. The alternative was too horrendous to imagine.
As he raced to the nearest transport node, not more than a quadrant from his home, a force not unlike a giant hand grabbed the Orbital Habitat and shook it like a dog with a toy. Knocked to the ground, Yuralen could hear people screaming and knew that the unthinkable had happened. Not only had he been responsible for shortening his world’s life from over four hundred years to less than ten, he was also going to be responsible for distorting the orbits of all the planets in the system. This was a catastrophe beyond any nightmare. His only hope was to reach his grav shuttle and get to one of the subspace emitter ships.
If he can get to his shuttle, he thought.
Already, the intense x-rays where burning the stations and causing tremendous electrical arcing. He could see bodies in the streets even now. Although shielded against the x-rays from their own sun, the shielding was never intended to handle this level of intensity.
As he raced do to the transport tubes his communicator chirped.
“Sir, the star has reappeared. However the field has not completely collapsed. It has collapsed enough to reenter normal space but the field is still up and is at 97% and the rate it is dropping is slowing.”
Yuralen was frustrated but held the bitter reply he had on the tip of his tongue.
“Of course the star has reappeared" Yuralen replied with a choking sound.
As he looked up at the video coming from around the system, he saw images of the devastation pouring down on his world. It is experiencing the end of times, he thought. With earth quakes, monster waves, and volcanoes.
Reports began to come in that the orbit had already shifted as well.
Entering the pod, Yuralen raced to the space dock. Again, fortunately, the trip was quick and within moments he was racing to his portal. He could see that structural damage had already occurred on the habitat with alarms screeching, instructing citizens to get to the life boats.
There was his portal. Fumbling with the code, he hastily entered his dock and climbed aboard his shuttle. He had sent a command ahead telling the onboard AI to preflight the craft. The AI had gotten clearance with the dock AI and he was shooting out the bay within moments.
The destruction was intense. Of the 27 habitats in this local cluster, he could see that many if not most had visible signs of damage. One in fact had suffered catastrophic structural failure and was venting enormous quantities of air, water, and material.
Answering his communicator again he was speaking with the fleet officer in charge of the subspace emitter ships.
“Sir, there is just no way we can assemble more than a few ships at this time. Over half the fleet has been deactivated and most of the rest are scattered around the system.”
“Can this get any worse?” Yuralen muttered to himself.
“We are also getting reports of massive casualties on the planet’s surface as well as among the orbital habitats.”
The autopilot AI handled the shuttle and guided it towards the emitter ship that had been monitoring the neutron star for the last nine years. He was only 15 minutes away. In that time Yuralen studied the inexplicable reemergence of this demon star. Why is it putting out less power now and why of all places here, the worst possible place to happen?
As he approached the ship he noticed something in the data he had been studying that hadn’t been there before. It was normal for stars to experience cycles of intense activity followed by quieter periods. However, while its energy output had never wavered more than a few percentage points over the 100 years or more that this neutron star had been observed, there were indications now that this star was going through cycles as well. If they had been missed or if the subspace field had introduced them somehow was unimportant. They existed now and that was what was important.
His ship docked with the immense emitter ship and as he ran through the port towards the command deck he started barking commands for a closer examination of this star’s energy cycle. There still may be some hope.
As he entered the command hub for the entire project, assistants starting showing him the output of the scans he had ordered. However, before he could study them in detail, the coordinator commed him.
“What have you got Yuralen?” It was an exasperated question full of pain and stress. In the last hour he had seen nearly thirty percent of the people he promised to protect die or suffer greatly.
“As you know coordinator, this came out of now were. Oh, man, that sounds like a bad joke” he said, shaking his head and on the verge of tears at such a thought at a time like this. “I was playing with my grandchildren just an hour ago so you can understand if I don’t have a full understanding yet.”
“Yes, of course, of course I understand. But we have to get a handle on this immediately.”
“Although I don’t have enough data yet to confirm this, I have a feeling that this may be a temporary situation.”
The coordinator jumped on this, nearly yelling into the display.
“Temporary, you mean it could just go back into subspace again? When? For how long? Do we have to worry about it coming back? What about…”
Interrupting his incipient grasp for any good news, Yuralen continued.
“Excuse me coordinator, as I said, it is just a hunch more than anything. The star is now showing signs of having an energy cycle but I don’t know if we have bottomed out yet or have a ways to go yet. I really need to get back to my data.”
“What do I tell people then? The world is over? Or that it is over for now but come back soon?” the coordinator begged.
“Like I said, I will have more soon. But for now, get everyone to shelter as quickly as possible. Underground will help, but I can’t say what the x-rays will do to the environment in the long term. We can save people for now, but I am not sure if or long term prospects are very good.”
“I will comm you once I have more data. Please I beg you, let me see what I can find and I will pass it along as soon as I know.
With that Yuralen disconnected the comm connection and turned to his staff. His senior staff had heard the discussion and had already brought up all the data on the neutron star’s cycle.
“Sir, I think that we may be lucky.”
“Lucky?” Yuralen nearly screamed at the assistant.
“How do you call this Lucky?”
“What I meant sir is that it appears that the cycle is very shallow and only dips below the warp threshold for a very short time. In fact, I think it will be for less than a few hours if my quick calculations are correct.”
“Let me see them.” Yuralen beckoned with a wave of his hand.
Peering through the data, it did in fact look like the cycle had already bottomed out and was on the rise again. In fact, he would be surprised if the threshold wasn’t passed within the next 30 minutes.
“Contact the coordinator’s office and inform them that our best guess is that the neutron star is expected to reenter sub space in just over 28 minutes if our calculations are correct.”
When he saw that everyone was just staring at him with mouths agape, he yelled.
“Go! People are dying now and we have to do what we can to help them.”
Not that much could be done, but anything was better than his despondent staff just standing around.
As if on a timer, 28 minutes and 32 seconds later, the neutron star’s energy output was enough to energize the subspace bubble past the necessary threshold and it winked once again out of existence.
Yuralen contacted the coordinator with the news.
“And you are sure that it is gone? For good I mean?”
“Yes. There was a very quick drop in energy associated with this star that appears to occur every 18 years or so. We just happened to catch it at its peak nine years ago. Lucky us, huh.” Yuralen was not smiling.
“Was it bad?” he asked more somberly.
The coordinator did not need to ask what ‘it’ was.
“Very.”
“We estimate that over three billion people have died on the southern hemisphere” the side that was unfortunately facing the neutron star.”
“Several tens of millions have died on the habitats that could just not absorb that kind of X-ray radiation pouring out of that monster. The destruction of life on our home world is nothing short of cataclysmic. We are not sure what has survived but it appears to have sterilized nearly half of our planet. Our environmental chief scientist is not sure the planet can recover from such an assault.”
“I am so very sorry coordinator.”
“Why are you apologizing?” whispered the coordinator, although he knew the answer.
“It was my idea.” Yuralen answered quietly.
“Oh so you where the coordinator ten years ago? No Yuralen, this was no one’s fault. It was a tragic accident but no single person’s fault. Will this continue to happen then?”
Yuralen didn’t really look at him as he answered.
“Yes, it appears so. Every 18 years give or take this neutron star will reappear out of nowhere and unleash its hell.”
Yuralen looked up towards the overhead and quietly whispered, “Please forgive me.”
Although small consolation, while two of the planets got ejected from the system and one sent on a direct path for Ontoldi, Siloen was not ejected from the system nor sent on a suicide mission. Instead Siloen was now on an elliptical orbit that would take it out of the habitable zone on a close approach to Ontoldi and then too far outside the habitable zone during the furthest approach. The planet would become uninhabitable as its new 12.2 year, “year” subjected it to a blazing sun for two months that would melt iron and then cold for four months that would freeze the carbon out of the air.
Stardate 41832.1
Stardate < 47611.2 [Year 2369]
Starbase 459 en route to Deepspace 2
Alpha Quadrant
0224 Ship’s Time
Sweat beaded on Captain Andre’ Petrov’s forehead and barely audible whimpers escaped his trembling lips as he squirmed from side to side of his bed clenching and unclenching his fists.
The nightmares had returned. Not only had they returned, they were becoming more intense as his workload increased which meant a bit more every day. Petrov had hoped they had left him in peace, but that was just because his previous posting involved little stress. Now that his feet where back in the fire so-to-speak, the stress returned and the U.S.S. Mercury’s death once again became a nightly occurrence. On this particular night he was being forced to revisit those moments in hell just after the Mercury was hit as with a giant’s hammer. One moment he was peacefully asleep and the next he was on the floor of his quarters next to his bed. Realizing that something very serious was happening he shook his head to clear the confusion and got to his feet. Clearly something was wrong with the inertial dampeners and that was a very bad sign. The inertial dampeners were what kept him and the rest of the crew from becoming fused with the aft bulkhead when the ship accelerated at over 52,000 Gs each time it lit off the impulse engines, which for a currier ship, was a routine occurrence. Only something catastrophic enough to affect the dampeners deep within the ship could have allowed him to be bounced out of bed like that. While he tried to think of what to do next, Petrov was knocked to the floor again by more shocks when he heard the automated alarms and abandon ship announcements begin to wail their frightful calls. “Oh no, no….no” cried Petrov as he began to tremble and a terrible fear began to build deep inside him. The only time the computer was permitted to order abandon ship was when there was no doubt that the crew was in imminent peril and the only way to survive was by departing the ship.
“Bridge, report!” he screamed as he got to his feet.
He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of calling for a report earlier. It should have been his first though as soon as he had been bounced out of bed. He must have hit his head harder than he realized, he thought. He didn’t know what was happening, but the bridge would know. Not receiving an answer to his call the first time, Petrov screamed again, his voice trembling. “Bridge, report!” Not only where his movements like molasses as he half crawled, half stumbled toward the door, his mind was crawling as well.
“Why couldn’t he think straight?” he thought to himself.
As he mentally berated himself for not heading for the bridge immediately, the deck trembled under his feet and he knew deep down that his ship was dying.
Petrov could not remember actually leaving his quarters and heading toward the bridge, but there he was, standing in the open doorway in stark terror. Before him was a maelstrom of ruin and debris. The entire upper portions of the bridge were missing and exposed to space, with wreckage strewn about and obvious evidence of some cataclysm. In the captain’s chair Lt. Simmons, his communications officer, and the officer of the watch this morning sat staring straight ahead while other crewman where at their various stations. For some reason he did not understand or know why he even noticed, every officer was in his dress uniform. Actually, not all, noted Petrov. Lt. Simmons was wearing the full dress uniform of a Fleet Admiral. Their immaculate uniforms didn’t detract from their hideous visage however. Most were missing a limb or two and many had terrible burns or massive wounds. Their ghastly appearance was even more chilling in contrast to their perfect uniforms. As Petrov stood there in terrorized confusion, Lieutenant Simmons slowly turned toward him and raised his arm to point at him as if in accusation. As the Lieutenant came face to face with him, Petrov almost vomited at seeing that he was missing the entire right side of his face. In quick succession, the other members of the bridge crew also turned toward him and pointed. “You did this!” they began to moan. “You abandoned us.” Petrov tried to back away from that horrible scene but was fixed in place as if bonded with the deck. For all his effort to escape, he was being forced to watch as they slowly began to walk toward him. His feet finally began to move and found traction however and he backed away. As they came closer, he noticed that their chants were not all alike. “Why did you kill us?” some moaned. “Why did you leave us to our deaths?” While others had horrifying expressions on their faces as they pleaded with him. “Please captain, don’t leave us. Help us.” While yet others merely screamed in agony as if in great pain.
Though he tried with all his strength, he barely moved. As the computer continued its repeated warnings of a warp core breach and the need to abandon ship, Petrov turned and started running in slow motion down A-deck past his cabin towards the escape pod at the end of the corridor. The phantom crewman walked towards him shrieking in pain and rage as he continued to move as if in a drugged stupor. Although he was running as fast as he could, he wasn’t sure he could reach the pod before they got to him. His feet were like lead and every effort only moved him forward by mere centimeters. Finally reaching the pod, it having been pre-activated by the computer when it issued its abandon ship announcement, he dived in and slapped the large emergency hatch closure on the bulkhead. Although it was intended for ten people, it seemed claustrophobic. Pulling himself into a restraint, he felt the reassuring jolt as the pod pushed away from the stricken ship. Once the pod was clearly away, he unbuckled the harness and drifted over to the view port to get a good look at what had happened to his home for the last two years. As he was about to get a good look as the Mercury rotated by the view port, he noticed a buzzing coming from somewhere.
“Captain, this is the bridge.”
Petrov’s eyes flashed open and he sat upright breathing hard and wondering where he was. He felt the sweat in his hair as it dripped from his brow and could feel the damp sheets. His hands hurt from clenching and he knew that he had had the dream again.
“Captain, this is the bridge.”
Taking a moment to clear his head and just before he anticipated the bridge was about to signal again, Petrov answered the chime.
In more of a raspy whisper than he would have preferred he said “This is the Captain, go ahead.”
“Sir, this is the officer of the watch, you asked to be informed when the watch changed.”
“Thank you Ensign Potter, I will be there shortly. You can carry on with the change of the watch.”
The nightmares had returned in force. The same dreams every time he was under great strain. Not exactly the same dream every time, but the same pattern. He didn’t always run from the crew and sometimes there was no crew at all to mock him. Sometimes he beat in vain against the sealed bridge hatch and then sank to his knees in tears because of his helplessness. It had been explained to him more than once that he was suffering from survivor’s guilt, as if explaining the source of the internal conflict would cure him or something, he thought. They patiently told him that it hadn’t been his fault, that it was simply an unfortunate series of events that could never have been foreseen and didn’t reflect on him as captain. They said this to his face, but to his back he suspected they whispered darker suspicions; Suspicions of weakness or cowardice or perhaps a lack of good judgment and leadership.
And to make matters worse, Star Fleet patted him on the shoulder and talked about his next command like the Mercury had never existed. Although he generally agreed with Star Fleet’s more enlightened efforts to attempt to find and correct problems rather than court martial every officer who made a mistake, sometimes he wished someone would just say what they were all thinking and face the facts; he had failed as a Star Ship Captain. Why couldn’t anyone state the obvious, which was of course “captains go down with their ships.” They are particularly never the only survivor. Of course everyone was careful to stay away from the subject and it was never mentioned at his reviews, but he knew better. Every time he felt the intense pressures of command, he returned to the U.S.S. Mercury’s last day and it left him each night with soaked sheets and little rest.
It was really a catch-22. In an effort to keep from thinking about those events from eight months before, Andre’ Petrov pushed himself ever harder. There was always one more thing he could do each day or one more way to prepare the crew for their duties. This in turn only fueled the stress that took him right back to the place he wanted to avoid. Even with what he considered its overly tolerant attitude, Star Fleet would probably not have given him another command if they knew how bad his condition really was. And it wasn’t like he could tell them he had completely lost it. Not if he wanted to stay in Star Fleet. But did he? He had realized though that deep down, he know that staying in Star Fleet meant that one day he might be able to atone for his sins.
Recognizing that he was not going to get any more sleep tonight, and even if he could he was not sure he wanted to, he slowly sat up, pulled his legs over the side of the bed and lowered his head to his hands, covering his face. “What do I have to do to exorcise these demons?” he silently pleaded as the rhythmic beat of a metronome filled his spartan quarters. It was one of the few personal possessions that he brought with him when he came aboard the ship and he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he could properly relax or sleep without its repetitive beat. Although he had seen various ships counselors, using the metronome to refocus his thoughts and center his psyche was a method he had developed over the years and completely on his own. He found that when he was alone, without the distraction of daily affairs to keep his mind occupied, the memories of his previous crew and the feeling that he completely failed them would quickly overwhelm him.
He purchased the antique metronome at a small shop on California Street in San Francisco, not far from Star Fleet Headquarters during one of his lunchtime forays through old-town. Star Fleet had taken over and expanded throughout most of the Golden Gate area of the city, but the old Presidio and a few small streets still remained to give the area an historic feel. Reinforcing that feeling was the abundance of antique shops scattered about the various streets. At the time, he wasn’t sure why he was inclined to buy it, in fact for many months afterward it went untouched in a corner of this room. It wasn’t until he read about a Vulcan technique of focusing ones energy and thoughts onto a physical object to help achieve and sustain a deep meditative state that it occurred to him to use it for that purpose. It had now become a compulsion that he relied upon. But even with this support at his disposal, the nightmares, from time to time, crept back into his subconscious and stole whatever rest he might get from his sleep.
The years of sleep deprivation were obvious in the deep lines on his face and the white in his hair. The burden of the feelings he was trying to avoid nearly incapacitated him until he discovered the short-term serenity his personal form of mediation offered.
He briefly considered turning up the lights in his quarters but reconsidered as he felt he would rather have difficulty reading than have difficulty concentrating. And concentrating was what he really desired as he rose unsteadily and walked over to his desk to sit directly in front of the metronome. Peaceful imagery usually helped him attain that semblance of inner peace he sought, which is why he began by watching the swinging of the pendulum and thinking of a peaceful valley from his home in Russia. In the valley, were large birch trees on both sides and a small stream flowing through the center. He closed his eyes and imagined the smell of the air and sensation of the warm breeze on his face. He was transported to this place of tranquility for the next half hour. Ever so slowly, he came back into the real world and thoughts he needed to deal with came to the forefront of his mind.
Reluctantly, Captain Petrov pulled himself up to his terminal and began to look over his daily workload of crew biographies, supply requests, officer evaluations, and the mission plans he and his crew would be following over the next several years. He looked forward to the many months of exploration and discovery it would entail. It would also be gratifying to watch the crew develop into an effective team that would sleep, eat, work, and play together. But from firsthand knowledge, he knew that no deep space mission returned to base without someone being required to pay the ultimate sacrifice for humanity’s thirst for knowledge. They were headed for a dangerous, unfamiliar part of space and risk was continuously present. Realizing where his thoughts were leading him, the Captain stopped, closed his eyes and again focused on the metronome’s cyclic clicks. “Not this time though” he whispered to himself. He decided, there and then, he would do whatever was necessary to protect every last member of his crew. It was his duty as captain as well as his penance.
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For the first few moments after LT Woodland slowly awoke in his quarters, he wasn’t quite sure where he was. The dark room was unfamiliar and it took him a few seconds to realize that he was now on a new assignment aboard the USS Poltek which would be his home for the next several years. As he lie there in his bed still working up the fortitude to start the day, he thought about how different the environment was here in comparison to his last duty station. This ship offered many more amenities than he had on the relatively primitive transport that he came from. Personal food replicators, an in-room work area, observation window, and private bath were all presented in a clean and bright setting. These perks were partially due to his promotion to lieutenant but primarily it was the more modern facilities afforded to a newly commissioned starship. “This is something that I could easily get used to,” he thought. He knew however, there was a lot more involved with this transfer than just comfortable quarters. He had belonged on that old transport, he was respected there, he was good at his job and they worked as a real team. More than that, they were a family. This time would be different though and it would be one of the most important tests of his life. No longer will he be a follower, this time he will be a leader. It would be he and he alone responsible for pulling the Engineering Department together and creating a team that would function as a single, efficient unit. Failure to do so could cost them the mission or worse – their lives. Woody was confident he could meet these demands but he was realistic, it would take hard work and perseverance.
Woody arose from his bed, walked to the “Computer, what do I have on the schedule for today?” The automated voice responded, “You have an 0800 breakfast and crew review with Captain Petrov, 0930 – 1130 engineering safety protocol review, 1200 – 1330 a mandatory medical fitness examination, 1400 – 1500 daily personal fitness training, 1600 – 1700 Senior Staff Meeting” He sat down and picked up a tablet to review notes that he made on issues that he thought the Captain might bring up during their meeting. He did not want to be caught off guard and unable to answer any potential questions concerning his duties or his department. He reviewed the most current performance statistics, personnel data, status reports and duty rosters. He also took the time to study Captain Petrov’s official Star Fleet dossier to get a sense of his character and background. As he scanned the document he noted what seemed to be a typical series of assignments that denoted successful career progression within Starfleet. But then he spotted something that caught his attention: Captain Petrov had commanded the USS Mercury in 2358. That was significant but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why. He started to ask the computer to provide more information but before he could say anything, the computer voice interrupted. “This is your reminder, current time is 0730, and you have a meeting with the Captain in 30 minutes.” With this prompting he dropped the tablet and went to get into uniform and prepare for the busy day ahead. To no one in particular, Woody thought to himself, “I have to look into that when I get some time.”
Stardate [Roughly 10 years prior to ST:NG]
Starbase 459 enroute to Deepspace 2
0759 Ships Time
Captain Petrov sipped on a cup of strong, hot coffee while he awaited the arrival of chief engineer Lieutenant Commander Jude “Woody” Woodland for breakfast. Petrov wanted to have some one-on-one time with all of his senior officers and so he had made it a priority to meet privately with Commander Woodland as soon as possible so that they could get acquainted. One thing that the Captain knew from experience was that the competence of the chief engineer was one of the most critical crew selections for the ship. The commander had a superb reputation throughout Starfleet as one of the most gifted engineers in service. However, without the proper maturity, judgment, and loyalty, those technical skills did not mean much. Petrov wanted to assess the man’s character personally.
Capt Petrov walked to meet Commander Woodward at the entrance to his quarters as soon as he heard the first chirp of the entrance chime. “Commander Woodland, good to see you, please come in." LT Woodland was dressed impeccably in his duty uniform; he came in and stood stiffly in the middle of the room.
“At ease Lt., at ease.” Said Captain Petrov as he directed him to the dining room and showed him to a chair.
“I hope that you don’t mind that we serve ourselves this morning, as you know we still don’t have an entire ships complement. Would you like some juice with breakfast?” the Captain offered. “Yes, please” as he lifted his glass to be filled. After a bit of small talk and finishing off most of the meal, the conversation began in earnest.
“LT Woodland, I would like to get your assessment of this ship’s readiness for launch, the mission, and discuss any recommendations that you may have. I want you to know that as long as you are a member of my crew I consider you the final authority on all engineering matters. You may always come to me directly when you feel that it is in the best interest of this ship or the mission.” The Captain paused for a moment to consider the officers’ reaction and before the Lieutenant could make a comment he continued. “I understand they call you “Woody?”
“Yes sir, Woody is fine, even my mother calls me that” he said slightly embarrassed. Waiting for just a heartbeat, Woody hurriedly decided that the captain’s earnestness was genuine. “Sir, the ship is in fantastic condition. We have been outfitted with some of the most modern equipment available for deep space exploration. We even have a respectable weapons system and tactical scan array that is normally only found on larger ships. Spares, repair equipment and test stations are also top of the line.” The Captain nodded his head approvingly. “So, you would say we are fully prepared to begin this mission?”
“As far as equipment and outfitting go, we are as prepared as any other ship in the fleet. I have no serious concerns in that regard” Woody said.
The Captain looked directly at the LT waiting for him to continue. “Please continue” Petrov encouraged. “Well Captain… it’s some of the crew that concerns me. What was personnel thinking when they sent us all these green recruits? Over half of the people assigned to my department have no deep space experience. The first problem is that where we are going, there won’t be any star bases along the way that we can count on for support; that means no replacements for blown out circuits, drained crystals, or broken equipment. The second problem is that there will be a knock on effect to those with more experience. They will be required to do a lot more and that means they will be busy with their own work while trying to watch out for the rookies. On a long mission, that may lead to mistakes that we cannot afford.” The LT glanced back up to the Captain for a response, hoping his snap assessment of him was correct and that he hadn’t gone too far.
The Captain picked up the bottle of juice and replenished both of their glasses. Woody noticed that he appeared to be thinking about something very deeply and sat patiently. After only a moment however, the captain’s reverie broke and he began to speak in a more mechanical and somewhat distant manner.
“Woody, you are correct on two counts. One, we have indeed been outfitted very nicely for a long duration mission, and Two, we have a higher than normal complement of green personnel. But let me share with you something I have learned over the years. People matter much more than equipment. Now you may be thinking that I have just uttered the most obvious thing you have ever heard, but I don’t think most people let that sink in. With the right leadership a very new and very raw crewman can be turned into an extremely valuable asset in a very short time. If you show them that you will listen to their concerns and be genuinely interested in their lives they will do wonders for you. It will be your job to teach these new people what it means to be a star fleet engineer and I know you can.
Woody thinks this over and responds in some way.
“Woody, I think that you are the right man for this mission and I have every confidence that you’re plan will succeed. Keep me posted on your progress.” Taking his que from the Captain as he eased himself out of his chair, the lieutenant stood up and the captain walked the Chief Engineer to the door, shook his hand and watched him depart. He was pleased with the candor and the intelligence the LT had displayed.
Stardate < 47611.2 [Year 2369]
Starbase 12
Some Planet
Some star System
United Federation of Planets
Alpha Quadrant
1012 Local Time
Meeting in conference room with Captain, Riker, Troi, Data, Worf, and Geordi.
The staff is informed that something is going on in a sector of space on the edge of the federation. The Enterprise is to go there and search for an anomaly in sub space.
I am not sure I want the Next Gen people in this story. Perhaps Melissa ships out on a transport, one of her brother’s perhaps. And finds Petrov???
Stardate xxxxxx [6/23/2363] USS Enterprise NCC-1701-D was just commissioned.]
San Francisco
Earth
Sol system
United Federation of Planets
Alpha Quadrant
1423 Local Time
“Meet me at the King’s Cross tube station at five pm or Peggy’s a goner,” said the deep raspy voice on the comm line.
Mellissa almost coughed up her tea at that. As it was she had to wipe a bit off the report sitting on her desk. As she carefully set her cup down on its dingy, tea-encrusted coaster, Mellissa reached over and played the message again, this time with a huge grin on her face.
Peggy was actually the name of her Andorian "avocado" tree and the voice belonged to her brother. Although a warm weather plant on Earth, the Andorian version preferred cool, moist air. That would normally describe San Francisco, where Mellissa lived and worked, however, for some reason this unreasonable plant found central England more hospitable. It was common habit to compare the plant with its Terran counterpart, but that didn’t usually work.
It was amazing, she often thought, how most plants on most worlds had equivalent or corresponding plants on other worlds. The Andorian avocado was one of them, though that was just what people called it on Earth. It actually had its own name on Andor. It got that name however because although only about half the size, it had virtually the same leathery skin, a large pit, and tasted nearly identical. It’s one truly alien attribute however was its bright blue fruit which reminded Terran’s so much of the Andorians themselves.
Mellissa had picked it up at a bazaar in Golden Gate park about a year ago but found that, assurances to the contrary notwithstanding, it did not like to grow in her apartment in San Francisco. Mentioning this to her sister-in-law Abigail one Sunday afternoon while visiting for the afternoon, Abigail suggested trying out England to see if it would grow. A month was all it needed to see that it positively adored England and put out new shoots immediately.
Peggy was the name Abigail gave to the plant in a light-hearted attempt to tease Mellissa. About the same time she mentioned her lack of a green thumb, she also told Abigail about a co-worker that was driving her nuts. In addition to a long list of character flaws, this co-worker, Ruth, also insisted on naming all of her plants and even talking to them if that could be believed.
Mellissa’s Tellarian upbringing simply refused to accept that and pretty much ensured that Ruth and Mellissa would not be strolling California Street on a girl’s day out any time soon.
Looking at her clock, Mellissa realized that she would have to leave within the next twenty minutes if she wanted to meet her brother David at King’s Cross in time.
“I should probably let him know I am coming,” she thought to herself.
Reaching over, she hit the well-worn auto call button at the top of her communicator and within a moment was looking at David’s face.
“Hey there little sister,” joked David since he was three years her junior, though several centimeters taller.
“You wouldn’t want anything to happen to Peggy, now would you,” he continued with mock seriousness and menace on his face.
Laughing, Mellissa moved her face back in forth in her own mock reply to his threat.
“David, I am going to try to meet you at five but give me five or ten if I don’t show up right on time. I have a few papers here to shuffle and file and I will be right along.”
“Well, just as long as you come, that is the important part. We haven’t seen in you in like, what, a month I think. Paul keeps asking ‘where Missy, where Missy’ and we just tell him that you don’t love him anymore,” David said, shaking his head sadly.
Shaking her finger at her brother, “You did not you stinker. Well, tell him to not worry, Aunt Missy is coming for dinner tonight, ok?”
“In fact,” she continued, “Tell him I will bring Nathan with me.”
Nathan Hale was Mellissa’s two year old Tribble, a gift from her brother. David worked as the lead programmer for a shipping company, Xeneski Galaxiport and he was constantly bringing home things that ships brought back from all over known, and sometimes unknown, space. The Tribble had been a gift from one such ship about two years previously. It had taken a mountain of applications and approvals, as the Tribble was considered a potentially dangerous animal “Hah!” and therefore had to be registered. Although she understood intellectually how its unrestrained reproduction could be an issue, she just couldn’t bring herself to believe that this thirteen centimeter ball of fur could be considered dangerous. It didn’t even have teeth for goodness sake. Mellissa’s two-year old nephew Paul loved Nathan, and Nathan’s low purring usually put Paul to sleep within moments.
“Oh, that’s great. Paul will love to see Nathan again. This time we will do a better job explaining about the ‘No food’ policy around Tribbles,” he said with a smirk.
“Yes, we don’t want a repeat of the great Tribble incident,” she replied, laughing.
“Ok, little sis, I have some things I have to do as well, so I won’t keep you.”
“Well, ok, I will see you at five then. Same place? By the stairs?”
“Actually, why don’t we meet upstairs in front of the schedule board?”
“Umm, ok, at five then. See’ya then.”
Mellissa sat back and smiled. One of the fringe benefits of working on Earth was the fact that her brother lived less than thirty minutes away by shuttle. She really missed her parents, and Tellar for that matter, but her work at Star Fleet was rewarding and she preferred the weather here as well.
Before she was born, her parents decided moved to Tellar. Long a Federation member, in fact one of the founding members, Terran’s where well-liked and respected on Tellar. Her mother and father always said that they would have time to see Earth when they retired, but wanted to see the universe while young. Mellissa didn’t think that Tellar was exactly the ‘Universe’ however and thought that they had missed their goal since it had been home for over thirty five years now.
In their first stop on a Universe-wide tour, her father applied for and got a position as an assistant professor of Terran Studies at the University of Eranas. He also taught English as well. Over time he was offered a full professorship, which he readily accepted.
Her mother, always handy in the kitchen with ‘real’ appliances and foods, opened her own Terran ‘Cantina’ which did moderately well and gave her satisfaction well above the remuneration. Business ebbed and flowed with the seasons, styles, and latest fad, but it was always popular with the Terran students at the school and handful of ex-patriots scattered around the city as well as with those who wanted to practice their English. It was a happy, jovial place with a mix of foods from all over Earth, from Russian to Mexican, Polish to Ethiopian.
Somewhere along the way however, Mellissa’s parents forgot to move on. They would say that they would think about moving next year. But the next year would arrive and they would say they would think about it in another year, and so on.
This lack of progress in their travels didn’t dampen Mellissa’s own desire to travel and see the universe however. In high school, she briefly considered applying to the Star Fleet Academy but quickly desisted when she found out how long she would have to be away from her family. She wanted to see the universe for sure, but for a week or two at a time, thank you.
Her compromise was to enroll locally and see where fate took her. Hence, she went to a nearby school for a year before deciding on her major. The next year she enrolled in the University of Eranas where her father taught and chose to major in comparative Political Science with a minor in Galactic Cartography, with a few electives in Geography for good measure.
During her junior year at school, she was presented with an opportunity that she jumped at, to serve as an intern at the Star Fleet Tellarian Communications Center on Star Base 223 which allowed here to also interact with the Starfleet Intelligence Operations School, located on Tellar. The three months she spent at the TCC where remarkable in that they left a life-changing mark on her world view. While there she became aware of many of the dangers involved in space travel and especially in Deep Space Exploration.
Nearing graduation, her parents became more apprehensive as they feared that their daughter was going to seek out a career that would take her far away from them. Although she constantly tried to reassure them, they knew that her natural tendency to seek out the new and interesting would eventually compel her to travel off-world.
However, to their delight and at the same time, sadness, a friend at the TCC told Melissa about an opening coming available at Star Fleet Intelligence on Earth. This delighted her parents because it was so close to their oldest son David and his family in England, but saddened them because it meant they would not get to see here nearly every day as they were accustomed and now both of their children would be living far away. They consoled themselves with the fact that at least it was far better than her serving on a starship. Besides, Earth was only a few days away by liner and she could talk to them in real-time any time they wished.
Shortly after applying for the position, Mellissa was offered transport to Earth and an interview in San Francisco. Not only did her degree help her, but her internship was considered the icing on the cake. After meeting someone from Fleet personnel and the Division chief for Fleet Signals Analysis, she was offered the position of junior analyst at the grade of GS-9. She was allowed time to return home to collect her things, return and find a place to live. With transports running to almost any spot on the planet and the furthest location being less than 45 minutes, she was under no obligation to live in San Francisco, nor anywhere else in North America for that matter.
However, although her brother lived in England, she thought it would be better to live closer to work. Finding a small apartment near Golden Gate Park was a stroke of luck as it was close to Star Fleet Intelligence as well as the transport hub which could whisk her to England whenever she wished.
She immediately immersed herself in her job and took every training opportunity that came her way. Right at two years, the required minimum, she was promoted to full Analyst and GS-10. It did not hurt that she finished the basic analyst’s course one full year early. She told anyone who would listen that since she didn’t really have any friends or social life, she might as well use her free time to study. She could see the sights once she was established.
One year later, Mellissa won the Fleet Intelligence Meritorious Award for Analysis when she noticed an unusual patter in the signals she was studying that led to the discovery of a long lost probe. It wasn’t a particularly huge discover, but it did show her diligence to her work, her attention to detail, and her surprising knack for pulling needles out of haystacks. Long hours at work was her explanation for how she had found the signal. While others went home to their families as soon as their shift was over, Mellissa would remain at her desk. Single, with no prospects she could imagine and no children, there was nothing but her cat and Tribble at home.
Shortly after her discovery, she applied for and attained a position in the Office of Deep Space Threat Analysis at the Grade of GS-12. She would not normally be allowed to take a position two grades above her previous grade, but her recent distinguished award, and the good will of her new supervisor ensured her success.
Her career apparently now on the fast track, Mellissa became a branch chief after only three more years. Now, two years later, she was very content with how everything had gone and was wondering if she should keep seeking progression, or just let it ride for a while. Of course, once she completed the PhD she had just started, who knew what that would do for her career.
Getting up, she stretched and yawned, feeling very relaxed. Looking around, she didn’t see anything that couldn’t wait until Monday. Straightening her desk, she picked up her sweater and headed for her apartment three blocks away. Rather than wait for the next hover bus, she decided a brisk walk would be good after hours at her desk. It was a wonder that she found such a nice apartment overlooking Golden Gate park. Her arrival in San Francisco and the Fleet Intelligence center happened to be on the same day that a Star Fleet officer assigned to the Center received emergency orders and had to leave at short notice. Over-hearing the conversation about what he would do with his apartment, Mellissa jumped in, nearly knocking over an admiral, to ask him about it. Come to find out, the officer had a long-term lease, but was willing, and able to allow Mellissa to sublease the apartment for five years. What she would do in another two years she wasn’t sure, but for now it was a dream come true.
Throwing a few things in a bag and gathering her toiletries, she scanned the apartment and realized that she had almost forgotten Nathan. Fortunately, Tribbles where incredibly easy to take care of travelled well. They ate almost nothing, unless of course you wanted three or fifty more, and where just as happy to sit in a coat pocket for a few hours, which pleased Mellissa as she slipped him into her coat pocket. Making sure her cat, Donovan (yes, she was aware of her penchant, or some would say mania, with naming pets after spies), had plenty of food and water, she ran downstairs again and walked to the local transport Hub.
Although there were non-stop shuttles between San Francisco and London several times a day, the next one wasn’t due for another two hours. However, if she was quick there was a shuttle leaving in ten minutes for Phoenix where she could then get another shuttle directly to London a mere fifteen minutes after arriving. This would get her into London at 5:03 which meant that by the time she walked down to the lounge where her brother usually waited, it would be about 5:10. Not too shabby, she thought. Really though, her brother should have looked at a simple shuttle schedule on the net before giving her a meeting time of 5:00 PM.
Walking through the terminal, Mellissa scanned for her dock. “Ah there it is,” she thought. Dock 9B. Usually the European flights all left from dock 11 and she wasn’t as familiar with the layout of dock nine. As she approached the doorway, the computer announced her to the pilot and he welcomed her aboard. Picking the first seat she came to, first row window, she threw her bag in the overhead and settled in. She had made it just in time because the pilot closed the doorway behind her and entered the cockpit a few feet in front of her.
She jerked slightly as she realized her bag, with her communicator was in the overhead. She always liked to read when she commuted, but a wave of laziness passed over her and she decided to just see the sights rather than get up to retrieve her bag. She seldom looked anymore, but as she had not been to Phoenix in a while, she thought it would be nice. Perhaps she would see the Grand Canyon. Probably not though, she thought, it was night and they would be moving too fast. Besides, the trip was only 15 minutes and most of that was climb and decent. Phoenix was too close for a shuttle to need to reach space during its short flight and merely grazed it on its graceful arch from San Francisco.
Although seatbelts where still required on all suborbital flights, they were simply a precaution. The anti-grav in the shuttle was remarkably efficient. Mellissa didn’t feel the slightest sense of motion for the entire trip. Only the gentle, almost imperceptible vibration of the impulse drive could be felt through her comfortable seat.
Arriving in Phoenix, actually the Phoenix-Tucson Interplanetary Star port as it was officially known, the shuttle slid into its dock with a slight bump. Almost immediately, the door slid open and Mellissa gathered her things and walked into the lounge. There were already people lined up to board the shuttle, probably people just like her, wanting to get away, or just go home for the weekend, she thought.
Walking briskly, she had to get over to the international/interplanetary terminal before her shuttle left in twelve minutes. It was probably just a hold over, she thought, from the days that a trip to England would take three or four hours, or, unthinkably, even longer. Why else would they make the distinction between a flight of fifteen minutes from San Francisco and a thirty five minute flight to London?
Walking into the interplanetary terminal with five minutes to spare, Mellissa was relieved to see that the shuttle for London was located at the very first port. Once again, the computer scanners noticed her approach and announced her to the captain. Stopping, she picked up a container of water and then stepped into the passenger cabin. The first seat in row one was already taken, so Mellissa walked towards the back and found another window seat. Throwing her bag into the overhead again she settled into her seat. As this trip was longer, and the shuttle was capable of orbital rendezvous, the seats where more comfortable and a bit wider. The windows where much larger also, stretching from near her armrest to above eye level. Settling back, she saw that the door was closing and they were preparing to depart. She was happy to see that no one would be sitting next to her. Not that she didn’t like people, quite the contrary, she enjoyed meeting new people. It was just that she so rarely took in the sights these days that tonight she simply wanted to watch the world spin by beneath her and enjoy the view.
Again, there was absolutely no sense of motion as the shuttle pulled away from the dock and out of the terminal building. Picking up speed, the shuttle angled up sharply and soon achieved a seventy five degree angle of climb at around three gravities. Within moments, the blue black dusk settled into clear black and the stars shone like brilliant diamonds on a black velvet background. Phoenix and Tuscan stretched for miles in each direction but quickly fell behind and became an ever-dwindling carpet of light in the Arizona desert. Thin filaments of light could be seen stretching out from the major urban areas. Soon they started connecting to other urban areas into what looked like a giant spider’s web covering North America. The planetary grav train network linked population centers together allowing high-speed travel between regional locations. Theoretically, someone could take the train to any destination on the planet, but it would just take several hours whereas a shuttle could go anywhere in under an hour.
North America slowly spun beneath her as she looked down from her lofty vantage point. Something in space above her caught her attention however and she looked up. Although still distant and not on their path, Star Base 1 could be made out. From here it looked like a white mushroom surrounded by the attentions of a swarm of fireflies. However in reality, Mellissa knew that to be seen at all, those fireflies had to be in actuality starships. Large in their own right they may be, they where dwarfed by the Star Base. She wondered briefly if one of those larger lights was the Galaxy however. She had just gotten a report that the U.S.S. Galaxy, NCC-70637 was finishing its trials and would be visiting Earth prior to its first assignment. The distance was just too great however and she couldn’t make it out. Anyways, the Galaxy might not have arrived or might already be docked within the Star Base for that matter. Those lights could any number of ships and some cargo ships massed many times a Star Fleet Starship.
Looking down once again, Mellissa could make out many of the metropolitan areas of North America; the San Antonio-Houston-Dallas triangle, the Salt Lake Corridor, the Denver Arcology, and of course the Chicago-New York Mega Plex. The adoption of a single currency as well as the breakdown of traditional borders meant mass migrations of peoples around the planet. Moving from more densely populated areas to less densely populated, the old United States of America found itself the recipient of more than five hundred million people in the last two hundred years, effectively doubling its pre-United Earth population. Northern North America however was till home to more Eskimos and Polar Bears than anything else and remained a dense patch of black below the shuttle as it continued its northerly course towards the British Isles. Several pinpoints of light in the blackness of the North Atlantic could only be the North Atlantic Oceanic Arcologies built over the last hundred years. With the advent and distribution of matter replicators, anti-grav technologies and compact energy sources, Arcologies, enormous, self-contained habitats supporting extremely high population densities, where popping up all over the planet and throughout the Federation for that matter. In a sense, Star Bases where a form of Arcology and they already existed in huge numbers also throughout the Federation.
Ireland was fast approaching and Mellissa thought she could discern the shuttle’s decent. Of course, with the grav plate’s inertial dampening on, there was virtually no feeling of movement at all and what she did feel was probably vibrations coming from the drive. Their course would take them almost directly between Dublin and Belfast in the Republic of Ireland. So many trips, she thought, to England, and not once to Ireland. Of course, she didn’t drink, and when her friends all suggested a side trip, the highlight was always the Guinness plant. Perhaps that put her off. Trinity College would be nice to see however, or perhaps take in a show or some stout Irish stew.
Mellissa noticed other passengers slowly gathering their things as the shuttle approached within five minutes of landing in London. The terminal was actually in Farnborough, to the south west of the London Interplanetary Space Port. Downtown London was a just a quick hop on a grav shuttle. The shuttle circled around to the south and came in from the east as it descended. Approaching the port, Mellissa could now see individual houses and roadways below in the early morning darkness. The shuttle’s speed had also dropped off considerably and was now virtually floating along at not much more than a walking speed as it entered the immense port facility and angled for its assigned berth. Settling down, the craft rocked slightly, though unfelt by the passengers, and then came a quiet mechanical sound as the locks fastened onto the shuttle and completed its voyage.
The passenger in the first row rose immediately and accessed the door controls to open the boarding ramp. The pilot came out of his cabin to make sure no one needed help and to wave goodbye. Mellissa waited her turn and then stepped into the isle. Grabbing her bag once again she walked out of the shuttle and immediately turned right to head for the lounge. She could have done this blindfolded considering the number of times she had been through this terminal. However, she came to an abrupt stop and she almost collided with her brother who stepped right in front of her.
“David!” she said, a bit shocked, not that there was anything wrong with him being there, it was just different that’s all.
“Ah, so you do recognize your brother after all this time” he joked with a kindly smile on his face.
“I, um, thought I was supposed to meet you in the lounge. This is a nice surprise.”
“Well, I wanted to get you here to save you the walk back.”
“The walk back, what, are you sending me away already?” she said feigning shock.
“No, nothing like that. I just have to meet some people over at one of the interplanetary docks.”
“Ah, so mixing business with pleasure? What if I didn’t want to spend time with your coworkers? Huh? Did you think of that?” she jibbed him, holding back a giggle.
Ignoring her, he grabbed her left elbow and gently guided her in a reverse course for the interplanetary terminal.
Seeing him furrow his forehead in concentration she thought he might be lost.
“Where are they coming in from and I can probably tell you what dock they will be using.”
“Hmmm…no, I have it. It is right over here,” he gestured.
As they approached the lounge waiting area for the dock, Mellissa could see the holographic display that announced the incoming flight and instantly put it all together.
“Jerk,” she punched her brother’s shoulder.
“You could at least have told me that mom and dad were going to be visiting. I would have taken some time off and stayed a bit longer,” she practically pouted.
“Well, the real surprise is that they wanted to surprise you, it was their idea. Also, they are going on some excursion on Monday, so it wouldn’t do you any good to take more time off. And finally, I think they are planning on visiting you in San Francisco, so there, you have more time with them.”
She could see from the display that they had cut it quite close and that the shuttle from the liner was just docking. People would start debarking any moment now. Sure enough, the doorway opened up and passengers starting walking into the lounge. Mellissa could see her father holding on to her mother as they came out of the craft.
“Mom! Over here,” Mellissa almost yelled, with a huge grin on her face.
Her mother almost started crying as she lurched free of her husband, nearly causing him to fall, and opened her arms wide for Mellissa. Not to be left out, her mother reached over with one of her hands and grabbed David’s sleeve and yanked him over to be part of the hug. Her father approached and Mellissa disengaged from her mother to give him a kiss on the cheek and bear hug as well. It had been several years since she had seen them in person and the act was more emotional than she would have guessed.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me you where coming?” she said with teary eyes.
“We just thought it would be nice to surprise you. If we had let you know, you would have gone to a lot of trouble and we just wanted to relax.”
“How long are you staying?” she asked looking from her mother to her father.
“Well, I took a sabbatical for this term and so we will just see. We brought enough to stay for months, well, the way your mother packs, it may be years, but we are thinking about seeing some sites. Remember, Tellar was just a stop on our trip to see the universe,” her father said with a large grin.
“In fact, your father wants to visit one of those dude ranches in Arizona,” her mother added while rolling her eyes and smiling.
“Do they still do that?” David asked incredulously.
“Well, we are going to find out,” their father said happily.
“Now, when can we get something to eat?”
Moving slowly to the baggage claim area, the small group grabbed a trolley and then headed over to the shuttle to take them to the Kings Cross Grav Rail station. They quickly found the right track and boarded the next available car. The trip to Cambridge was less than fifteen minutes and they soon found themselves arriving at the station. They got a taxi to take them to David’s home less than five kilometers away, not far from the university. Most of England had evolved into high-density apartment buildings, but Cambridgeshire was an anomaly. For the most part it had retained its traditional single family housing, with some dating back more than five hundred years. Many attributed this to the unchanging University at the center of the city while others just opined that the British refused to change, ignoring the fact that the rest of the island had moved on to ever more modern, and efficient housing.
David’s home was only a few blocks from the University and he and his family enjoyed the occasional walk to a pub or restaurant for dinner. It was a traditional Tudor style house, situated on a street with similar houses. David had spent quite a bit of time on the gardens and his wife Abigail had lavished her attention on the bright red roses that encircled the home. As this was a community for families without their own personal conveyances, there were no streets, driveways, garages, or any other trappings of the old car economy. Rather, the neighborhood was divided into “blocks” of eight homes placed in a circle around a central fountain and park. Not all blocks had fountains at their centers. Some had children’s play areas while others had gazebos or stages. Each block was also surrounded by a stand of trees that blocked most of the view of other blocks except for a vague hint of other homes nearby. All of them were connected with walking paths that snaked throughout the community. The effect was like living in a large garden or forest.
Walking up the steps, David opened the door and ushered everyone in. Immediately, Abigail came out of the kitchen to meet everyone and greetings where exchanged around.
“Well, I hope you are hungry, I put on a stew and some fresh bread and it should be ready in about ten minutes. David, show them to the guest room please. Mellissa, I apologize, but we only have the sofa bed left.”
“Well, that’s ok, as I am only going to be here for the weekend. Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, to make up for it David has a surprise for you,” she smiled, looking at David pointedly.
“Well, it really isn’t much actually,” he said, shrugging.
“I am not sure if you know, but occasionally our ships skirt the edge of known space if they can do it economically and without disrupting their trade routes too much. A few months ago one of our cargo ships came across a planet in a system that has as of yet to be contacted by the Federation. They are a friendly people however and have trade relations with many planets in the area, especially beyond the area of the galaxy that we know. We have already submitted the find to the Federation and I was told that a delegation would be going there soon. However, to get back to the story. We didn’t find this one because we were looking for it but rather because the ship in question was having problems with its warp drive and need a safe harbor as soon as possible. They were near this system but the automated stellar cartographer said that there should not be any planets in habitable zones so they were going to pass on by in search of something better suited to their needs. However, signals were coming from the system and the captain took a chance. Sure enough, he came across not only a habitable system, but the primary population center is on a planet that the captain could only describe as a paradise. Once in orbit, they were greeted by very friendly representatives and offered whatever aid they needed. Of course, since it was not life-threatening, the captain was charged for his repairs, but apparently in a friendly, above-board and honest manner.”
“The ship was in orbit for just over three days. During that time the captain allowed the crew some shore leave and he also decided to take a look around this beautiful world. He was having dinner in a somewhat quaint restaurant and decided to walk around a bit. Eventually he came across a stall selling handmade arts and crafts. Knowing that I enjoy that kind of thing and the more exotic the better, he picked up a pictograph that reportedly shows the grand history of the planets gaian origins.”
Reaching down into bag on the floor, David pulled out what looked like a long, dark piece of wood. It was about forty centimeters by twenty and had a rough, almost splintery texture on one side. The other side however was smooth as glass and had a very detailed and colorful series of pictures that supposedly told the story of the planets re-birth, as it was called. Although David was told it was a small example, some measured many meters in length, the craftsmanship was superb. At first Mellissa could not make out head or tail until she realized that it was meant to be read from right to left rather than left to right as was customary in most languages. David repeated the explanation as it was told to him from the captain and in turn from the person who had sold it to him, thus suffering a bit from repeated translation.
The pictograph consisted of a series of five depictions of the artist’s world from a time many years ago, perhaps thousands of years. Each depiction was roughly two to three centimeters across, but because of the fine detail, a great amount of information was conveyed. The first picture on the very right edge didn’t show much more than a bright, white ball and a small glowing yellow orb that Mellissa guessed must be the systems primary star. Right across the middle of the white ball was a narrow band of green, brown, and blue. Again, Mellissa guessed that this must represent the habitable portion of what had been essentially a snow or ice planet.
The next picture was much the same except that on the far side of the planet, a small, white ball was added. Mellissa could not even guess at what that must represent. However, it was explained that with the advent of that bright light in the sky many people, and plants and animals as well, died in a mass extinction the likes of which the planet had never seen before. Those that survived attributed this event to wrath of their creator who took those with whom he was displease and left the righteous.
Early on however, they had reason to question this belief as the sun got brighter, larger, and hotter. Sure enough, in the third picture the bright white ball was gone, but the star was drawn as much brighter and larger. The reason that they questioned whether they were God’s chosen was because of how many still died from the massive floods and quakes that continued to take many lives.
The fourth pictures showed a completely different situation however. Rather than a white ball, this one was a mostly blue ball with patches of brown here and there. Finally, the fifth picture showed the planet at the captain of the cargo ship saw it. A bright blue and green world covered in a mix of beautiful white clouds covering oceans dotted across the globe.
David explained that it had been described to him as a religious event. In fact, most people had one of these artifacts in their homes to remind them of the blessing they had received and how the world had been born again into the paradise it was today.
Mellissa tapped her lips with her index finger for a moment.
“You know, this seems familiar to me, but I can’t place it.” It probably just reminded her of the myriad creation myths that existed throughout the galaxy. This one was very close to her planet’s own story of Noah and his ark.
“But as you know David, many planets have creation myths.”
David just looked at her for a moment and then said, “I am not trying to convert you Mellissa. I just thought it was pretty and that you would like it.”
“Well, thank you, it is quite beautiful. I think I will hang it in my office. They will all be a bit jealous that I have something like this from a world unknown to the Federation. There are some in Star Fleet that try to outdo everyone else in displaying unique treasures from across the galaxy in their offices."
“I knew you liked this kind of thing so I ask some the crewmen I know to be on the lookout for this stuff.”
Wrapping it back up, Mellissa placed it with her overnight bag and pushed them into the corner where it wouldn’t get damaged.
“Now, where is that little nephew of mine,” smiled Mellissa.
“Oh no you don’t Missy, you get to see him all the time. We have only gotten to see him once in person since he was born. Hand him over David,” his mother commanded.
“I am sorry to tell you that he is at preschool right now but will be home for lunch,” responded Abigail.
Mellissa suddenly jerked and then smiled.
“You know one of the nice things about having a Tribble is that they are absolutely no trouble at all,” Mellissa smiled with a gleam in her eye.
“In fact, I had forgotten that I had Nathan with me.”
Reaching into her pocket, Mellissa pulled out her little ball of fur and placed it on the kitchen counter.
“Abigail, do you have and cornmeal I can give him?”
As her sister-in-law handed her the small yellow box, Mellissa sprinkled a bit on the counter around the Tribble. Immediately, it started purring and shuffling around to swallow up the treat.
“You know, Paul will be so excited to see Nathan. Oh, and you also of course.”
“Yes, me also,” Mellissa said in a tone that said she knew Nathan fascinated the three-year old Paul more than her aunt did.
Turning to her brother, Mellissa gave him a hard stare with squinted eyes.
“Now, let’s talk about these death threats against my Avocado tree.”
David burst out laughing while their parents stared in bewilderment.
Stardate xxxx (6/26/2063)
Monday afternoon, three days later
Star Fleet Intelligence Center, San Francisco
“Oh hi Mellissa, what do you have there?” asked Ruth.
Sighing, Mellissa turned around and smiled even though she didn’t feel it.
“Oh, just a religious artifact that my brother got for me from Alaa’an,” Mellissa explained as if everyone had heard of the un-contacted world. Normally she wouldn’t be quite this loquacious with Ruth, but today she was in a good mood.
“Hmm, Alaa’an? I am not familiar with that system. Or is it a planet?” Ruth replied as she appeared to be thinking hard.
“It is a world in the Y’norn system on the fringe. One of my brother’s company’s cargo ships put in there for repairs. He says it is quite a nice world and that the Federation is already sending a delegation.
Ruth nodded and smiled. “Well isn’t that nice. It is not often we meet people who are responsible for bringing new worlds into the Federation,” Ruth continued with a bit of awe.
“Well, we don’t know if that will happen. The federation is simply sending an envoy to express our willingness to become friends and open trade agreements.”
Walking over to near Mellissa’s desk, Ruth looked closer at the object that Mellissa had just finished hanging on the wall.
“It really is quite pretty. Very well crafted. What is it supposed to represent?”
As she was in a good mood, Mellissa decided to humor her and explain its history. Besides, she was just dying to talk to someone about it.
Taking it down from the wall, she began to relate its history as it was told to her from her brother. She wondered how messed up the story would become as it was told and retold. Once she was complete however Ruth appeared confused. Mellissa didn’t entertain any high opinions of Ruth’s intelligence, but she asked anyway.
“Is there something you didn’t understand Ruth?”
“No, it was all clear enough. Very similar to our Noah. However, this story, or one very like it seems very similar to me.”
That immediately caught Mellissa’s attention as she also thought it sounded familiar. If it had been just her, she would have forgotten it, but as there where now two people who thought it sounded familiar and who also happened to be intelligence analysts whose job it was to piece together disparate pieces of information and come up with a story, she had to investigate.
“Ruth, you don’t think it just the story of Noah’s ark like you said?”
“No, no I don’t think so. I seem to have heard a similar story somewhere.
“Well, I guess it isn’t important, but it is odd that we both seem to recall a similar story.”
Noticing that Ruth was about to add something, and not wanting to encourage her more, Mellissa took the pictograph from Ruth and started walking toward the door of her office.
“It was nice talking to you Ruth, but I need to get back to work,” Mellissa said with a smile on her face as she used her left hand to gently guide Ruth to step outside.
“Ok, but if you want to talk about it some more you know where to find me,” she said with a hopeful look on her face.
To further encourage Ruth to move along, Mellissa quickly shut her door behind her.
Coming to a decision she wasn’t sure she actually made, Mellissa sat down behind her desk, resting on the edge of her chair with her elbows on the desk.
“Computer!” she commanded.
“Ready.”
“Search for instances of a world that was barely habitable that suddenly became habitable.”
The results of course where instantaneous and in its monotone voice, the computer divulged them.
“Klingon creation on Qo’noS, Earth creation legend in Bible, Betazoid creation legend, Horta …”
“No, stop. That’s not what I meant. Search the Stellar Cartography database for any instances of a world that was uninhabitable or barely habitable and then became fully habitable.”
“Searching.”
It was odd for the computer to take more than a moment.
“Nothing found. Please restate search or provide wider parameters.”
“You mean that there have been no cases of cataclysmic change in a planet’s biosphere or habitability logged in the database?”
“Negative. Prior search was for planets that where uninhabitable that then became habitable.”
Mellissa thought about this a moment and then it dawned on her why she was having problems.
“Computer, show me all planets that had drastic or cataclysmic changes in their habitability.”
Before the computer responded, she added, “..that were not man-made.”
She didn’t want to hear about planets that had societies that had killed themselves through war or disease.
“Searching. Kelvan empire of 2268, V’Ger destr…”
“Computer, stop! Please exclude worlds or any information that comes second-hand. Just give me what can be found in the stellar cartography database.”
“Searching. Miranda IV and Kolos II.”
“Give me the abridged description of the cataclysms on these two planets.”
“Affirmative. Miranda IV was a Class M roughly XXX years ago until it underwent intense and sudden meteor bombardment. Its population had reached the advanced industrial stage and was experimenting with limited space travel. Today, the population survives at the level of the Iron Age with the complete breakdown of organized government and communications. The planet still experiences episodes of meteoric bombardment that impedes advancement.”
“Kolos II was destroyed sometime between XXX and XXX years ago.”
“How do we know that?”
“The stellar cartographier has shown that a planet should exist in the M class belt between .8 and 1.3 AU from the primary, however there is only a dense asteroid belt at 1.27 AU.”
“Perhaps it is a result of the natural formation of the system,” Mellissa said hopefully although she knew the computer wouldn’t include it in the list if didn’t have evidence.
“Negative. Organic matter as well as processed metals and hydrocarbons have been detected in the asteroid belt thus proving that a planet that had achieved at least the early industrial-age existed before it was destroyed.”
“Does any information exist on the Y’norn system?”
“Negative. The stellar cartography database has no information on the Y’norn system.”
“What about second-hand information of hearsay? Search all databases.”
“Searching. Found.”
“Please give me the abridged account of the planet’s transformation.”
“Between XXX and XXX years ago the planet Alaa’an in the Y’norn system underwent an abrupt change in its orbit. Stellar cartography notes that a marginally habitable Class P planet should exist at 1.35 AU from the primary. On star date XXX, the starship XXX, a XXX class cargo ship of the Xeneski Galaxiport Corporation, entered the Y’norn star system to repair its warp reactor. Standard operation procedures were performed and a probe of the system was performed in which the Class M planet at 1.35 AU was predicted. Once inside the system however, a fully habitable, Gaia utopia was found at .92 AU from the primary.”
“Display the Y’norn system for me.” Mellissa commanded.
Before her, on the display terminal a representation of the Milky Way Galaxy appeared and then zoomed down to the Alpha quadrant and then to a location XXX light years from Earth and the center of the Federation. From a direction directly above, the star system was depicted. Eight planets and a primary roughly 85% the size of Sol. There were four gas giants, one Class T and three Class J, and two terrestrial planets, the obviously class M Alaa’an at .92 AU and a K Class world that is being studied for terraforming at 2.4 AU.
In quick succession, Mellissa looked at the other planetary systems that had also experienced dramatic changes in the ecosystems. The only common denominator was that they were all in the same part of the quadrant, but other than they were just ordinary star systems with nothing to distinguish them except for a habitable planet. The [David’s planet] was thirteen light years from [destroyed planet] and twenty two light years from [meteor planet].
She wondered if there was any connection between these three rare events.
“Computer, show the dates of the events.”
“Affirmative. Dates know to within 20%.”
The computer started putting dates against the representations on the planetary systems. “Hmm,” Mellissa thought. Forty one thousand, twenty thousand, and six thousand years previously. “Well,” she thought, “there does appear to be a time span.”
But the path was not straight, it was actually a V-shape. Could there be another space amoeba? Or how about another V’Ger, heaven forbid, she thought and shuddered. No, she decided, they would have heard about something like that so close to the Federation.
Tapping her stylus against her nose, Mellissa sat back and slouched in her chair. She had a bit of a reputation for spotting patterns and pulling out useful information from what appeared to be random data and she knew that this was not random data. Although space was absurdly dangerous and cataclysmic events happened regularly, she was convinced that these three events were related in some way. For one, they were similar in that they were all planetary in nature. A planet’s biosphere is changed, another is destroyed, and another is bombarded. Yes, they are different, but all happened to the planets in those systems.
“Computer, plot any other anomalies or unexplained occurrences in this sector of space.”
The display immediately updated with several new icons, and with one that caught her attention immediately. Roughly a hundred light years beyond the last occurrence, a Lost-Ship icon was placed on the display in red.
“Computer, give me the details of the lost ship in quadrant XXX, XXX.”
“The U.S.S. Poltek was reported missing in that area of space in 22XX. Its last communication was on Stardate XXXX. Three days later, a very garbled subspace message was received that is believed to have originated from one of the Poltek’s shuttles.”
“What is the reasoning?”
“Although no useful data was received, the message header contained the string ‘Poltek:Gali’ as its sender. The Poltek had a shuttle on board named the Galileo.”
Looking at the data, she could see that this happened more than sixty years ago and was outside the area she was looking at. Although evidence was lacking, her gut told her there could be a threat here. Before she could use Star Fleet time to investigate however, she had to have her supervisor’s approval. Getting up from her chair, she pushed a datachip into the receptacle and downloaded her research. Grabbing it back, she briskly walked out of her office and down the hall to her right.
She quickly arrived at her supervisor’s office. It was much larger than hers and had a couch, two end tables, two more chairs facing the couch, a conference room table that could seat twelve and a large desk. Behind the desk was a view of Golden Gate Park. On the wall on both sides of the desk where a variety holos of him with various senior members of Star Fleet and the Federation Council. It was well known that he like to rub shoulders with important people and his ‘trophies’ where ample proof. Mellissa thought it absurd to try to ingratiate oneself with others simply because their positions were more elevated. Accomplishments where what mattered, not their bureaucratic position.
As she approached his door, she could see that it was open and that Roger Dodger, a fellow analyst, was already speaking to him. Roger was standing directly in front of the desk while their supervisor rocked back and forth in his chair behind the desk. It didn’t appear that Roger was happy, although, most people who had to speak with their supervisor didn’t appear to be happy. He was just that kind of supervisor.
Obviously, he noticed her outside his door as she wondered if she should intrude or not.
“Ahh, Mellissa, please come in. This conversation with Roger affects you as well.”
Taken aback, Mellissa slowly entered the office and stood about three feet from Roger.
“Rodger,” she acknowledged him with a slight nod.
“Mellissa,” he the replied.
“I was just telling Rodger that I could not get you on the tour of the Galaxy.”
Seeing that Mellissa was about to say something he stopped her with an upraised hand.
“I know, I know. It is right here at Star Base XXX and it isn’t due to leave for its first mission for a week or two more, but this didn’t come from me. There has been such a demand to see the new class that they could not take everyone who wants to see it and consider security at the same time. Someone over at Star Fleet Security suggested that such a horde of people would easier for a spy or saboteur to infiltrate and so they cut the number of slots.”
<Manager> stifled a frown as Melissa rolled her eyes over what she obviously thought of that.
“We only got four slots and unfortunately you two where the most junior.”
“May I ask who got the four spots then?” asked Roger.
“That would be me, my assistant, and the head of XXX and his assistant.”
“But you are all managers,” blurted Mellissa.
“And your point being?” replied XXX.
“I thought this was an orientation tour for analysts and engineers to better understand this new class of ship. The crew was supposed to show the guests around so that they could do their job better and become better analysts. Why do managers need take the tour unless it just to get to spend a day away from the office and trying out the new holo-decks,” she responded with a bit of hostility in her voice.
Red faced, but recovering his composure, XXX responded, “I and my fellow supervisors require familiarization briefings as well as you do so that we can know how our analysts do their job and what tools are available to them.”
“Yeah, we’ve all seen how well you ‘use’ the knowledge you’ve gotten from all of the trips you have been on.”
<xxx> understood that Melissa was raised on Tellar and all the baggage that brought with it, but sometimes he had to take a deep breath to keep from yelling back at her for her frequent insulting outbursts.
“That will be enough Mellissa. I am sorry you cannot go. I will try to get you on another tour as soon as I can.”
“Well, the Yamato will be available in about a year, and the Enterprise about a year later,” she snapped.
Abruptly Melissa realized also that this was not a good way for her to be talking to her boss when she came down here to ask for something.
But before she could offer a conciliatory town, and rather than ending the conversation, XXX simply turned to his display in dismissal.
Undeterred and before Roger could leave, Mellissa brought up the subject that had brought her here in the first place.
“XXX, I would like permission to look into something that I think could be a threat to the Federation or at least to someone.”
Spinning his chair back around, XXX just looked at her and said, “You don’t have enough work now, you want more? Submit your proposal to the board and if it is accepted, I will see who will be most qualified to work on it.”
“Well, you see, I don’t have enough evidence yet to meet the board’s requirements,” she said with and embarrassed tone.
Rushing on before he could respond however, she continued.
“But I have a gut feeling that I have information that could lead to a threat.”
“A gut feeling? We don’t operate on gut feelings. We operate on facts. Permission denied.”
“But…”
“No. I don’t want you working on something that would not even pass the board for review. Now, how are your other reports coming along?”
Deflated, Mellissa just stared at him for a moment before turning around and walking out of the room. Roger was bit startled, but XXX seemed to take it in stride. That confused Roger a bit until he heard XXX mutter “Tellarians” and shake his head before turning back to his display and dismissing the conversation once again.
Ahh, so that was it. That was how she got away with insubordinate behavior. The old Tellarian culture card. Kind of like you couldn’t get mad at a Vulcan for using logic because that was his culture, or you couldn’t get mad at a XXX for using XXX because that was his culture. Likewise, you couldn’t get mad at a Tellarian for arguing with you unless you wanted to be branded insensitive because arguing was what Tellarians did. It was their thing. One of the principle defining characteristics of their culture.
Before he knew what he was doing however, he raced down the hall to catch up with Mellissa.
“Mellissa, wait up.” She walked very quickly and didn’t appear to have heard him or didn’t care.
He caught up with her as she turned into her office. Rapping his knuckles on the frame of her door, he also coughed to get her attention. She was already sitting behind her desk and merely looked up with slightly annoyed look.
Consternation passed over his face, but he let it go.
“Mellissa, what was that you said about a threat you think you might have found.”
“Please just forget it. I knew I wouldn’t get any sympathy in there, but I thought perhaps his concern for the Federation was greater than his concern for his career at least.”
“Ouch, did you mean to say that?”
Mellissa just stared at him.
“What can I do for you Roger?” she asked impatiently.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing what you have that made you go in there and ask the impossible. If we have learned one thing from all of the exploration missions that we have sent out it is that threats come from places that we never imagined. If we have even a whiff of a threat, someone should at least vet it and give it some thought. Please, I would really like to see what you have.”
Mellissa stared at him a moment longer and then turned to her display.
“Computer, display results of the last search.”
The display quickly populated with star systems, statistics, and annotations.
“In a nutshell, we have a star system destroyed about XXX years ago, then another one that undergoes a major shift in its biosphere, XXX years ago, and finally, a planet bombarded with meteors, XXX years ago. In addition, a star ship was last reported seen in the general area about sixty years ago. The problem is that although they are in the same sector of space, they are not in a direct line. So, unless there is another space amoeba out there, and we haven’t heard anything, this can’t be a natural occurrence if it wobbles around in space.”
Roger looked at the display for a moment.
“What are these dates? Are they when the events happened?”
“Yes.”
“So the display is showing me where they were when the events happened?
Mellissa looked at the display and then at roger, then back to the display.
“Umm, no, they are shown where they are right now…” as she trailed off.
“Have you looked at where they were when the events happened?
“Ummm no, I have not.
Seeing where he was going, she addressed the computer again.
“Computer, please display the locations of all of these events when they occurred along with an overlay of their current locations.”
Immediately, the curved line straightened out and became a straight line that intersected all of the systems as well as right at the edge of the area the Poltek was last known to be.
Roger and Mellissa just looked at each other.
“You have got to go back and try to convince XXX.”
“Roger, thank you for helping me, but without any more information, you know what he will say. We both know that this will not stand up to scrutiny right now. We have to have more evidence before the board will accept it and take this on.”
“Well, I could help out if you want. I think you are really onto something here.”
Mellissa looked at Roger for a moment and then decided now was not the right time. He wasn’t too bad looking and he obviously shared some of her own likes, but her personality tended to drive people away and she didn’t want to do that right now. Better he think well of her now at a distance then get closer and be turned away.
“Again, thank you Roger, but I am going to just file this away to be looked at when more evidence comes in,” she replied although she had no intention of filing it away. She knew she was onto something and there was no way a mid-level bureaucrat was going to keep her from finding out what it was.
“I really don’t know you very well Mellissa, but…”
“No, you don’t know me very well. I would rather just move on with my work right now and put this away for a while. So if you will excuse me, I have other things to do right now.”
For the second time today, Roger was dismissed with an air of insignificance. Staring at her, he shook his head, turned around and walked out and to his own office in another wing of the building.
As soon as he was out of her office, Mellissa brought up the cartographic projection and studied it a bit more. What she needed was a scan of these star systems and a sweep of the area that the Poltek was last heard from.
“Computer. Project from current data. Draw a line through these events and show me where it would be today based on an average speed.” What she saw made her gasp.
The line that cut through the center of the four events projected forward to a point about 30 light years from the border of the Federation, not far from the XXX star system.
Sucking in air between her teeth, she knew she had the evidence she needed. Playing devil’s advocate however, she tried to think of the kinds of questions that XXX would ask her. Are these occurrences unique to these systems? No, they are common throughout the universe. Has a star ship ever been lost near unrelated events in star systems? Yes, a few times. Has anyone ever reported any unexplained phenomena in that sector of space? No, but the universe is big and there are only so many people. Have there been any direct observations of this so called anomaly? No, but then the last recorded events where thousands of years ago. What about now? Where is it? Unknown, but then again, the area of space where it should be now is virtually devoid of star systems and the ones that are there have few planets. Note to self: send probe to star systems along that path to see if these star systems show any evidence of change in their orbits or meteoric rate.
Realizing that she would need more information, Mellissa started planning her clandestine approach to stellar cartography. Her first mission would be to see if any of her current tasks required any probes in the areas in question. Next, she would contact a friend at Star fleet communications on Tellar for some help.
One Week Later
Brother’s House
Mellissa tells her family about what happened. She knows something is happening but doesn’t know how to go about starting to get the data she needs. Her father suggests that her old boss on Tellar could help her use the star bases comms scanners to get the data.
Two weeks later
Star Base XXX
Tellar
United Federation of Planets
“Sir, you have an incoming transmission from Earth,” the communications officer motioned to get Commander XXX’s attention.
“Ah, yes I was expecting a transmission from Star Fleet Communications,” he replied as he began walking back to his office in the communications center.
“Actually, this transmission is from Fleet Intelligence. A Ms. Holland.”
Stopping for a moment, Commander XXX picked up his pace and slid into his chair behind his desk while his finger punched the accept call button.
With a huge smile on his face, XXX addressed the woman on the screen.
“Mellissa, wow, you have really gotten fat and what have you done with that mop you call your hair?”
Smiling just as widely, Mellissa responded.
“Well at least I can get some good food here that will make me fat and not eat that Vulcan rat droppings that pass for food on Tellar,” she responded quickly.
Nodding appreciatively, XXX leaned back in his chair.
“Not bad, and quick also. I figured three years on Earth would have removed any sense of civility in you and replaced it with some namby pamby feelings where everyone speaks softly, drinking tea, and trying their best to not offend. It’s almost as bad as Vulcan there, except the Vulcans don’t take offense; they just try not to offend because it is good manners they feel. So how is our little Terran these days and what brings you to make this call?”
Wincing, Mellissa decided to just get it over with. Besides, Tellarians preferred people to be blunt and to the point. Beating around the bush was considered duplicitous and bad manners to say the least.
“It is so good to talk to you again XXX. I was thinking about you and thought we hadn’t spoken in a while and it would be nice to call,” Mellissa cringed for taking the cowards way even after deciding not to.
“Tsk, Tsk, Mellissa. Earth has changed you. Just come out and say what is on your mind. You wouldn’t use a Fleet Intelligence comm just to talk with me. What do you need? Are you in trouble? Do you need me to take care of some young man who has taken advantage of our little Terran flower?”
That got her laughing. Single parenthood was no longer a taboo on Earth, but Tellar was still a bit provincial and took these things as a manner of honor. In this case however, XXX was just trying to be funny to get her to talk.
“No, nothing like that. But boy could I tell you some stories about how my recent dates have gone….” She replied with a smirk and a twinkle in her eye.
“No, that’s ok,” he replied with a slight shudder.
Mellissa always liked teasing Tellarians because they had such easy and sure-fire buttons to push and never took offense at being teased. Their views on sex, intimacy, and relationships was one of their hot buttons and Mellissa knew just how to push it.
Mellissa looked down at her feet for a moment before replying.
“XXX, I need some help, but I am not sure it is ethical, or even legal for that matter.”
“Oh?” he replied with a raised eyebrow. Realizing that she had something serious on her mind, XXX sat up straighter, mimicking her posture and encouraging her to continue with his apparent understanding of the seriousness of the conversation.
Mellissa started talking about her theory based on the pictograph her brother had given her. She laid out her argument and showed XXX how she came to her conclusions and then sat back.
“What do you think?”
“Very persuasive I must say. Why don’t you just get Fleet Intelligence to look into it?”
“My supervisor says that since we have no evidence that anything other than natural occurrences caused these calamities in these three star systems, and we have no reports of any dangerous entities in the area, then there is not enough evidence to put in the data base for research.”
XXX shook his head. I understand where he is coming from, but sometimes you have to look beyond the data and see the forest and not just the tree. He is right on every count and wrong on every analysis and it is decisions like that that will bite the Federation one day.
Her supervisor, Tim catches the end of the comm and tells her to stop. She starts working later into the evening on her own time. She asks for a mark XXX probe to be sent. He complains that it is too expensive. She asks for a ship but is told none have the scanners necessary for this kind of work.
Enterprise comes along. She asks for it. Is turned down because it is in great demand.
Her boss tells her that she couldn’t get into the tour of the galaxy, because he only had four slots. Perhaps, he tells her, another tour of another ship later.
She starts researching this because it is bugging her. Her supervisor, Tim tells her to stop. She starts working later into the evening. Finally she discovers a destroyed planet and planets in the wrong locations in another system close by. Her supervisor does not see a threat. She asks for a mark XXX probe to be sent. He complains that it is too expensive. She asks for a ship but is told none have the scanners necessary for this kind of work.
Enterprise comes along. She asks for it. Is turned down because it is in great demand.
Stardate xxx (year xxxx)
Commercial Liner Phobos
Enroute Utopia Planitia, Mars
Sol System
United Federation of Planets
Alpha Quadrant
Melissa is attending a familiarization tour of Utopia Planitia ship yards provided to Star Fleet Intelligence Analysts. The highlight of the tour is the last day when they will be given a briefing on the new Galaxy class star ship, followed by a holodeck tour and capped with a fly-by tour of the USS Enterprise under construction.
“Liner Seven Five Seven Bravo X-ray, you are cleared for docking at port C12 and welcome to Utopia Planitia.”
As the shuttle negotiated the thick traffic around the Starbase on its way to the civilian commercial docking port, Melissa Lynn Holland contemplated the trip from Earth and it wasn’t doing anything good for her mood. Why couldn’t Star Fleet just have taken the entire group on a transiting star ship or even a personnel shuttle and save them all this wasted time she thought. In the time it took to merely get approval to attend the conference and then book passage on a civilian liner to Mars, they could have been sipping a daiquiri by the pool under the dome at the Mons Olympus hotel where they were staying. Star Fleet personnel flew all over the place, using star ships like personal taxis and transporters like it was the most common thing in the world, but be a mid-level analyst at Star Fleet Intelligence trying to attend a conference and see how easy it is to get there. And to make matters worse, it was even sponsored by Star Fleet to begin with. Although her analytical side disagreed, she often felt that there must be someone much higher in the chain of command whose only responsibility was making Melissa’s life more difficult, such as constantly denying her requests for tasking of Star Fleet assets. Only the day before she had requested a class one probe be sent to the xyz sector to gather data on an anomaly she had been tracking over the years. If she was correct, this anomaly was going to turn out to be much more important that anyone thought and she felt she had made that clear in her tasker. But it had come back in less than 24 hours stamped rejected and the reason given was that there was not enough data collected to warrant the expenditure of a class one probe. Talk about a bureaucracy. That was the entire point of sending the probe in the first place; to collect more data.
She had talked with her supervisor on countless occasions and he had gently suggested that she might try being a bit more diplomatic. Diplomatic? What did that have to do with getting her job done? She was never rude to anyone, well, at least not by Tellarian standards, besides; her record should speak for itself. Just look at how quickly she had climbed to her present position. True, she hadn’t done so well lately, but that had to be because there was that one person stopping her. It just couldn’t be because she was not “diplomatic” enough to reach more senior positions. Her supervisor recommended getting to know the other analysts better and becoming friends with some of them. But it was obvious by the way they all sat in a group away from her that they had no interest in getting to know her, so why should she reciprocate.
Sitting a few rows back Roger Dodger (yes, he was kidded about the name often) sat and considered Melissa Holland sitting a few rows ahead of him. He couldn’t put his finger on why his gaze lingered on her a moment longer when he saw her. She wasn’t exactly beautiful, though not ugly in any way, actually more plain than un-pretty. At 5’6 and about 150 lbs, she was somewhat short and heavy by Earth standards, but for someone from Tellar, where she was born and raised, Roger thought that she might pass for somewhat thin. Maybe it was her long curly black hair, which really was her most striking feature. No, he thought, it wasn’t her looks that made him stare. It was probably her personality. He knew that his fellow analysts didn’t hold her in any high regard and sat away from her so that they would not have the chance to encounter that personality that he found somewhat intriguing. Even as he gave this some thought, he overheard one of his colleagues talking about that very thing.
“I am telling you the truth! She walked up to me at lunch last week and said my clothes where ugly. Can you believe that?” said the anonymous voice behind Roger.
“I can do better than that,” said another voice. “She has supposedly insulted nearly everyone in her section and it is because of that, that she hasn’t been promoted in three years.”
Roger shook his head at the ignorance his trip mates. And they called themselves analysts? Even after xxx years of the Federation and all its claims of diversity and equality, there were still many that had little cultural knowledge of even the most basic traits of its founding members. Of course it could be minds were so deep into the cultures of those that might do us harm that they failed to see those that would do us good, but he suspected that that was giving them too much credit. What they failed to recognize, and one thing he may have missed himself if he hadn’t read about it, was Melissa’s attempt at striking up a conversation. On Tellar, argument is one of their valued past times and the most common way of greeting a new acquaintance. However, if you don’t have anything to argue about with someone you just met, the most common backup is to insult them to get the argument going. The more outlandish or creative the insult, the more likely it will engage a fellow Tellarian and make him friendlier. Melissa was probably fully aware that that was not the way things were done on Earth and the simple insults involving someone’s attire or hygiene where probably simply her way to scale things down so that they would not be offended. Obviously, she had not grown up around Terrans.
However, Roger had heard her arguing with others that were familiar with Tellarians and had actually read a few of her reports and knew that she was anything but stupid. He could not remember her losing an argument and her thesis were always very well laid out and presented with supporting documentation and well-reasoned hypothesis. It was funny really, when he first saw her, she didn’t even register and he quickly forgot her. But as he learned more about her, he began to wonder how he could ever think her plain.
As she was thinking to herself, she was oblivious to the other ships passing by her window or the usually awe inspiring view of the orbital ship yards as the shuttle maneuvered its way through the traffic. She only began to pay attention to matters around her as the thrusters died and the large shuttle gently bumped against the docking port and the clamps grabbed hold of the latches. Gathering her things from the empty seat next to her, she quickly stood and headed for the hatch. She might have been in a bad mood getting here, but she had been looking forward to this trip, though it did mean she might get a little behind on the mountain of work on her desk. As she exited the liner, an attendant was directing the passengers to the transporter facility that would take them down to the hotel so they could get settled in for the week. Because of the high traffic of Star Fleet personnel traveling back and forth between the planet and the Star Base, transporters where used on a regular basis here in stark contrast to Earth where standard shuttles where normally used to move people around the planet.
Shipyard Conference Center
Utopia Planitia, Mars
Sol System
United Federation of Planets
Alpha Quadrant
Stardate [Roughly two years prior to ST:TNG]
NEXT DAY
Melissa stepped off of the central transporter platform of the Shipyard Conference Center and walked directly toward the commons area of the facility. The center was a hive of activity with many representatives of various planets throughout known space. The architecture of the structure was impressive. A lot of thought went into creating an environment that would encourage people to communicate freely and comfortably. Throughout the entrance level there were many plants, small water features and sitting areas that were bathed in natural light. There were also many kiosks and vendor stands available to cater to the various needs of visitors from all worlds. As Melissa was taking this all in, she noticed many small groups sitting together, sipping beverages and talking. This was her first official trip with Star Fleet and she was enthusiastic about the prospects of the tour.
Just as she was headed to the registration desk to check in and receive quarter’s assignment, she noticed a familiar face in the crowd. Erla Zwingle, with whom she had attended Tellar Capitol City University, was standing in front of one of the centers information terminals examining something on the screen. Melissa approached her, “Erla? What are you doing here?” Erla blinked a few times and stared at Melissa as if she was trying to put everything into context but then smiled and opened up her arms. As they hugged, she asked
Sometime later in her career.
Getting up from behind her desk, Mellissa walked down the hall to speak with T’Sal, the Vulcan space debris expert to discuss his latest report, however he was not present and looked as though he was not in today. “How could anyone really tell anyway,” thought Mellissa. “Their offices are kept so sterile that most wouldn’t even believe it was in use.”
Returning to her office, Melissa walked through the door, paused for an instant, mentally sighed, and continued on to the chair behind her desk.
“Oh, there you are Melissa,” smiled Ruth Hayden as she stopped writing on the message pad on the desk and stood up straighter.
“I was just leaving you a note to give me a call when you got back.”
Trying to not sound too disinterested, Melissa responded. “What do you need Ruth?”
Melissa really didn’t want to have this conversation. Not that she knew what this conversation was about; she just didn’t want to have any conversation with Ruth. She didn’t dislike Ruth really; she just wasn’t in the right mood to hear one of Ruth’s dire predictions, another petty complaint about how management didn’t listen to them, or how things could be done better if they just let her run things. Ruth always seemed to be one of the first to hear any news and always had some complaint about it.
“Have you heard about Admiral Nagumo?” asked Ruth in a worried tone.
“Do you mean that nonsense about the Federation cloaking device” Melissa waved her hand as if dismissing it as unworthy of discussion. Actually Melissa saw an opening to have some fun. She always liked to follow her Father’s admonition that if life gives you lemons then make lemonade. She always liked seeing the positive in all situations and this also meant that she was always looking for a good argument to get into thanks to her Tellar upbringing. A good argument was what she needed to lift her spirits this afternoon.
“Nonsense?” Ruth almost screamed.
“There is talk that the admiral will be sacked. Possibly even arrested!” cried Ruth.
Melissa knew exactly what would pull Ruth’s chain and she was right on the mark.
“Yes nonsense. If she hadn’t broken the treaty of Algeron as well as her oath to Star Fleet in the first place she wouldn’t need to worry about being sacked or arrested now would she?”
Melissa knew that Ruth had an almost fanatical devotion to Admiral Nagumo; for most of the officers at Star Fleet for that matter. Although she was a civilian research assistant and not subject to the uniformed chain of command, she called everyone Sir or Ma’am, even the enlisted personnel. Any argument making a Star Fleet officer culpable of some offense was surely to set Ruth off like a photon torpedo. She just didn’t think they could do wrong and was willing to fight anyone on that point. How she could both hate the bureaucracy and yet worship the bureaucrats was beyond Melissa.
Before she quit sputtering and could make a coherent reply, Melissa continued.
“In fact” she paused for dramatic effect, “I think that a bit of house cleaning is in order here at Star Fleet intelligence as well as over at the Navy Yard on Utopia Planitia to see just how far this conspiracy goes. The treaty should never have been broken with the Romulans and it is a wonder that they haven’t pulled their ambassador from Earth. Thank goodness we have people like the Enterprise’s captain to bring these kinds of things to light.”
“Melissa, I can’t believe you feel that way. Admiral Nagumo was obviously acting in the best interest of Star Fleet and the Federation when she ordered the development of a cloaking device. The only thing the treaty of Algeron was good for was keeping one hand tied behind our backs so that the Romulans had an advantage anytime they felt it was time to attack us.”
“You can’t be serious.” Shot back Melissa. “Hellooo!” Melissa cupped her hands around her mouth like a bullhorn. “This is diplomacy not knee jerk politics. The Federation has many worlds to think about and it does not have the luxury to be rigid when a little bending can mean peace. The Romulans cloaking device is simply an advantage. That’s all. It is not a silver bullet. Don’t forget, we also have our advantages and it is by trading those advantages in a give and take that we forge peace with our adversaries. Better we give a little here, than lose a lot there. And in the mean time, we let the diplomats, trade missions, cultural exchanges and all those other groups slowly work on the Romulans and chip away at the rough exterior. Always remember the Klingon example.”
Normally Melissa would bait her opponent and use her arguments like a scalpel rather than a bludgeon, but the truth was that she was a feeling weary of talking to Ruth and wanted to demoralize her quickly so that she could get it over with and get back to the piles of work on her desk. Arguing with someone was usually fun and there was almost never any ill feeling, but today was different. She was still smarting over having her latest tasker rejected yet again and she realized that she was using her skills to pull herself up by dragging someone else down.
Ruth was slowly backing out of the office and Melissa knew that her game had gone too far. Tellarians almost never take offense during a good argument. They may seem to get worked up, but it is all part of the show. Terrans where different however, a fact she needed to remind herself of almost every day. But one thing Tallarians never did was admit defeat. They may concede a point, but never the argument and Melissa was a product of Tellar. Her compassion would never trump her obsession to win, but it could temper it. That is why she let Ruth off the hook rather than crush her on the spot. “Ruth, when you get a bit older, you will see that interstellar politics are very complicated and almost never intuitive. That is why there are so few good ambassadors. Go read something and if you feel like discussing it again come by my office. My door will be open.”
Melissa sighed again as Ruth backed out of the office, bumping into the plant on a pedestal by the door. She really missed the delicious arguments with native Tellarians. Now there was a place you could have a fight.
Looking over the data pads on her desk, Melissa pulled one out seemingly at random and began to scan it. She knew that there was something out there and she knew that Enterprise could find it. Why wouldn’t they just let her send out that tasker? Of course, like the discussion with Ruth about real world politics, she knew that the answer was trickier than that. That the Enterprise had many people desiring its valuable time and not everyone could be accommodated.
Sighing one more time she leaned back in her chair and slipped back into the dark mood she had when she first came back to her office. Seeing her supervisor pass by her doorway made her sit up quickly however. Aha. Now here was a much richer target and one that would give her some fight and she knew just how he felt about certain things. Racing out into the hallway she yelled toward her supervisor. “Bob, can you believe what they are doing to that poor Admiral Nagumo….”
This is just an idea for a conversation between Roger and Mel.
“Melissa, there’s a reality in the universe that you need to accept if you want to be successful in Star Fleet. Many times things are just not fair. You have to learn to be politically savvy, build a network of professional friends and present an outward image of someone that people enjoy being around. You’re right that it should be enough to be good at your job but that’s just not the way it is. If you stand firm in your convictions it will cost you and if you’re willing to accept that lot, that is fine. But if you want more, if you want to rise to the level of management that permits you to make decisions on important matters then you need to learn how to act in that world.”
Snippets from her career as she tries to get ships to look into this mystery.
Roger and Mellissa fall in love. They go together with the enterprise to the quadrant were the poltec was destroyed and find Petrov.
Mellissa tears into Ruth because she was turned down again for something.
Stardate < xxxx [Year 2301]
Starbase 1
Earth
Sol System
United Federation of Planets
Alpha Quadrant
Judge Advocate General
0809 Hours (Local Time)
The first thing Petrov noticed when he walked into the conference room was that it really was a conference room. That is, he noticed that this inquiry was not being conducted in a courtroom or any other official space but rather in a somewhat unassuming conference room adjoining admiral XXX’s office on Star Base 1.
The next thing he noticed was that besides himself and his legal counsel, there were only the three admirals of the court and a young female petty officer in her dress uniform who would be managing the data recording of the session.
The three admirals where sitting at the middle of the table with two vice admirals flanking each side of the Fleet Admiral. Normally Admiral XXX would sit at the head of the table but today he chose to sit in the middle. This meant that rather than sitting fifteen feet away from these senior officers, Petrov would be sitting less four feet across the table from them.
The three admirals were all seasoned commanders with a combined experience of over eighty five years in Starfleet. Admiral XXX was of course a Fleet admiral, commander of the Starbase and also the commander of all federation forces in Sector one, which encompassed not only Earth but Vulcan and Alpha Centauri as well.
Sitting next to him on his right was vice admiral Solkar. A stern faced Vulcan, who, like all Vulcans, had his poker face on. That is to say, his normal face. Admiral Solkar was not so much an anomaly as a departure from the norm. Vulcan’s normally preferred the science track, but Admiral Solkar had chosen command and proved that Vulcan’s could be just as good, if not better than most at the helm of a starship. He was considered a fast-riser and it was commonly believed that he would someday succeed Admiral XXX.
Finally, sitting on Admiral XXX’s left was vice admiral Gwyneth Salvatore from fleet intelligence. Although never a starship commander, it was felt that someone from outside the starship community would offer a unique and different perspective to the inquiry.
“As you are aware captain Petrov, this is not a court martial, but merely the official initial findings inquiry. Before we begin, do you have any questions?” admiral XXX asked.
“No sir. I believe I am ready for whatever judgment Starfleet has for me.” Petrov said slowly, with head almost bowed.
“Like I said, captain Petrov, this is not a judicial court, but simply an official inquiry. We are here to hear your side of the events of Star date XXX in the Altair system. We have investigators at Altair already getting testimonies of those involved in the incident. As well, we have the logs from the Omega capsule and are reviewing them presently. Please, be at ease Captain. We are not here to judge you, merely hear your account and ask a few clarifying questions from time to time.” The admiral smiled like a father explaining to his young child.
“And like I said before coming here sir, a court martial would be fine. Let me pay my price sir and save everyone time.” Petrov stated more vigorously.
“Captain, while I am a patient man, my patience does have limits. I will repeat myself one more time. All we want from you at this time is to hear your account of the Altair incident.”
Resigned to his fate, Petrov lowered his head and nodded.
“Very well sir, where would you like me to begin?”
“Why don’t you just begin at the beginning and we will stop you if we have questions.
Petrov looked at each of the three admirals sitting in front of him and sighed. He had already gone over every second of the “Altair Incident” as it was now being called in excruciating, horrifying detail every day since it occurred. He thought about how to begin, and then slowly, he began speaking.
Stardate < 47611.2 [Year 2301]
Starbase 223
Tellar
Pangeos System
United Federation of Planets
Alpha Quadrant
1012 Local Time
“Captain, we have just received coded orders from Starbase 223.”
The lieutenant at the comm station for this watch looked up at Captain Andre’ Petrov with an air of expectation. Normally the captain would decode the orders in his stateroom which was less than thirty feet away in ship’s newly built diplomatic section on “A” deck right behind the bridge. However, only three days ago Admiral XXX had ordered them to Starbase 223 in orbit of Tellar Prime with a warning that further orders would be forthcoming.
“Lieutenant XXX, I will hear the orders here on the bridge. Please decode them.”
“Aye aye, sir. Just a moment please.”
Not more than ten seconds passed before the great seal of Starfleet appeared on the main view screen at the front of the bridge.
“Sir, excuse me but the orders are from Admiral XXX.” Stated the communications officer, a bit flustered. He actually should have provided that bit of information prior to decoding the message.
“Don’t worry Lieutenant. I knew who the orders where coming from.” He half smiled.
This new lieutenant had come with high praise from his previous posting as an ensign on Starbase XXX. However, he had been making frequent lapses in judgment lately and it was something that Petrov was going to have to speak with the first officer about.
Admiral XXX’s visage appeared on the screen and without preamble he began to issue orders.
“Captain Petrov, you are to proceed to Earth immediately. You have been granted a clear passage through traffic lanes for the next 48 hours. Once you arrive, contact Starfleet command for further instructions. However, I can tell you that you will be transporting Ambassador Reese to Altair. As you may be aware, Ambassador Reese is our senior Ambassador for Inter-Federation relations. Once you arrive at Altair, you will remain on station until such time as the Ambassador releases you or his mission is complete. As you are to receive further instruction upon your arrive at Earth, I would expect that you would be underway within the hour. Admiral XXX out.”
In actuality, Petrov had anticipated the move orders and had the ship at Yellow alert, and performing drills. In addition, the navigator had been given three potential destinations; Earth, Vulcan, and Alpha Centauri.
Such foresight often impressed the crew, but in actually it was a crap shoot and he just bet on the most likely outcomes. If he happened to be right three times out of four, well so much the better. Crews liked a bit of omniscience in their captains and he happened to be right more than he was wrong. Coded orders where reserved for the more important situations and the most important situation he could think of right now was the conflict brewing on Altair.
A federation member for over fifty years, it was made up of several regional governments both small and large, consolidated within their version of a commonwealth. However, there were two larger governments that tended to dominate affairs on Altair and they did not always see eye to eye.
The current row centered on the recent discovery of an abundant Dilithium crystal vein on one the moons of Altair’s largest gas giant. If it had been found by geologists from one of the larger factions, then all would have proceeded normally and peacefully. However, in this case an independent contractor had found the vein and then gone to the planetary government for a license to extract it. Had it involved a discovery of iron, or cobalt, or gold for that matter, the situation would still have proceeded calmly. However Dilithium was altogether another situation. Although warp travel was certainly possible without those unique crystals, their inclusion in a warp reactor imparted several orders of magnitude greater efficiencies.
Whoever controlled the Dilithium could dictate starship production on Altair. Of course, the Federation and Starfleet had its own sources and its own production yards, but regionally, member planets still produced a great number of indigenous hulls for themselves as well as on contract to other planets.
It was just this question of who would control the new find that was bringing Altair close to civil war. Police and guard vessels from both factions where hovering over the moon in a tense standoff.
It didn’t take a genius, or omniscience to put two and two together; a tense diplomatic situation less than thirty light years distant and coded orders to a courier ship. However, to be fair, most of the crew was not privy to the daily briefing messages that covered anything of importance going on in the universe.
Regardless, the crew still looked upon their captain with a bit of awe. All except for the first officer who had discussed this possibility with Petrov and had known what was coming.
“Helm, lay in a course for Earth. As we are cleared through the lanes, give me the best course at warp eight.”
“Aye, aye sir. Best course for Earth. Course has been laid in.”
“Very well then. Helm, take us to Earth, warp factor 8.”
The familiar vibrations could be felt as the matter/anti-matter reactors began producing the enormous flow of energy that the warp nacelles would need to produce the plasma necessary for warp travel. In moments the vibrations built steadily and the familiar streak of stars could be seen on the main viewer.
The captain’s chair had some of its own readouts, but they where redundant as the main display showed the current speed. Passing warp two, the starship had already passed XXX on its outward journey to Earth. Here, deep within the federation, thousands of starships would be plying the space lanes between the member worlds and several non-member worlds as well. However, on this occasion, there was no constant chatter from traffic control to change course or alter speed. The Hermes had been given a clear path all the way to Earth. Heaven knows how many captains out there were going to be displeased, if not outright enraged, at not being able to travel at their normal speed or course. Time was money, and anything that delayed a freighter, reduced its profits.
Passing warp 6, the starship was well past the star’s outer planets and into the Oort cloud encircling every star system in the universe. The journey to Earth would only take a little more than 18 hours.
The captain drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair as he thought about how to best use this time. Coming to a decision, he sat up straight and addressed the helmsman.
“Helm, proceed at your current speed until we are one parsec from Earth. Verify our course with approach control and ask for the best possible speed they will authorize. Finally, perform a normal approach to Earth and make a standard translation to impulse as necessary. Notify me when we are in-system.”
“Aye, aye sir. Proceed at this course and speed until one parsec from Earth. Then verify our course with approach control and ask what the best possible speed they will authorize is. Finally, make normal approach to Earth and translation to impulse as necessary.”
“I will be in my quarters.”
As they where more than 18 hours from Earth, four duty watches would pass before arrival. However, the orders Petrov had just given had been recorded and would also be passed verbally from watch to watch.
Satisfied his crew had everything in hand, Petrov rose and walked to the back of the bridge. The ship had only recently left the yards after an extensive refit. Previously a science ship, the U.S.S Hermes had been rechristened a diplomatic courier ship. Its largest changes where the updated warp nacelles and larger impulse engines. However, almost nothing was left untouched. The bridge was enlarged and stretched a bit from front to back. Now, the two turbo lifts that previously exited directly to the rear of the bridge now exited into a small alcove behind the bridge with doors to the right and left leading to the right and left side of the bridge respectively. This area was called the bridge gallery. Its inclusion precluded diplomats or other VIPs from disrupting the crew by exiting right onto the bridge. The ship’s plaque was moved here to the wall facing the turbo lifts and it was the first thing one saw when getting off a turbo lift. Right above it in oiled bronze, the name of the ship was spelled out in an arc above the plaque in letters thirty centimeters high.
Between the two turbo lifts a new VIP section was added to “A” deck that stretched nearly 100 feet. Immediately through the door, the captain’s quarters were the first on the left. The reasoning here was twofold. One, diplomats would want near instantaneous access to the captain at any hour day or night. And two, a side benefit was that the captain was literally twenty feet from his command chair. This was a particularly good decision in the mind of Petrov. He had always found it absurd that a ship’s captain could be three of four or more decks away from the bridge when asleep. Control is the name of the game and closer meant better control. A fringe benefit of being a diplomat’s taxi driver was of course his own quarters had to be suitable to host VIP guests. Not only did it boast two of its own servitors, but it also had a real kitchen and a chef who was conversant in the dietary requirements and well as preferences of over two dozen races within the Federation. In addition, although he could host a meal for up to twelve people in his quarters, a dedicated dining room existed in the compartment next to his that could accommodate up to thirty guests. After all, diplomats did usually bring staff.
Next to the dining room, one more suite was located on the left side of “A” deck. While the smallest, it was of the same quality of the others and boasted its own environmental controls to compensate for its smaller size. For example, a Vulcan guest could set the temperature up and the humidity down to suit his own desires.
Across the corridor where two large diplomatic suites that where identical in every way. No one wanted to run into a situation where one diplomat thought he was being slighted because he thought the other suite was better. Though, according to the advisor that helped design the suites, diplomats and VIPs where able to be offended by almost anything. For example, one might take exception because they were further from the captain than the other. Another might be taking exception at being too close to the kitchen, or too close to the smaller suite, or too far from communications on the bridge, etc.
At the very end of the corridor was located a large class IV escape pod. It could sustain 10 people for two weeks and had limited impulse engines and a planetary landing capability. The bridge, or course, had enough escape pods for more than double the number that would normally be on watch to take into account the myriad reasons why additional people might be on the bridge.
In addition to the upgraded guest quarters, the bridge also had new stations added to accommodate the communications requirements of the guests as well as a more senior communications officer than would normally be stationed on starship of this size.
Heading into the diplomatic corridor, Petrov passed his quarters and proceeded to the dining room to speak with the chef. Elegantly appointed, the flag of the United Federation of Planets adorned the wall at far end. Displayed around the room however where the flags of each member planet and holos of each planetary seat of government where displayed next to each flag. The dining table itself was a wonder to behold. Eleven meters long and three wide, it clearly dominated the room. It’s greatest attribute however was that it could actually be broken down into sections to be used as serving table or removed altogether so that people could mingle. In addition there were nearly fifty chairs lining the walls along the periphery of the room.
Next to the main entrance, a door to the left led into the kitchen. It was here that the chef had his own small office. As his duties where only really needed when a VIP was onboard, since Petrov preferred to just use the servitor in his quarters, the chef was not normally in his office. To Petrov’s surprise however, the chef was sitting at his desk studying his display with an intense look. Even with Petrov standing in his doorway, the chef did not look up until the captain lighted rapped on the door frame.
“Excuse me chef? Do you have a moment?” said the captain playfully.
With a lurch, the chef looked up and jumped to his feet.
“I am sorry captain; I didn’t realize anyone had come in. Please, yes, do come in. How can I help you?” The chef was renowned for his ability to focus to the exclusion of all outside disturbances.
“Don’t worry about it chef. What is that you are looking at that had you so preoccupied?” the captain asked, chuckling.
“I was studying the dietary preferences of Altairians, captain.” He said bluntly.
That knocked Petrov back on his heels a bit. The coded orders had only just come in less than five minutes earlier and his orders had only just been given.
“Altair? Now why would you be doing that chef?” although Petrov knew what the answer would be. Captains might appear omniscient, but crews could be downright clairvoyant when it came to new orders. He had also suspected their destination would ultimately be Altair, but he had the benefit of intelligence briefings. Mentally shrugging, he promised himself to never underestimate the power of the crew communications channels.
“Well, captain, I heard we were heading to Earth to pick up a diplomat and take him to Altair. I will have a nice roast cooking by the time we get to Earth as I suspect that it will be Ambassador Reese we are picking up, and according to his bio, he is from Alabama, in North America and I think he would enjoy that. The Altarians on the other hand have got me perplexed…”
“Hold on a moment chef. Why do you think it will be Ambassador Reese? I haven’t even been told yet who it will be yet.” The captain said, looking a bit more serious.
“Well, sir, Ensign Gart’s father is assigned to a Federation facility on Alpha Centauri and he said that Ambassador Reese had been called back to Earth two days ago. It addition, Petty Officer Kale said that Ambassador Reese speaks fluent Altairian as he got his doctorate there only 15 years ago. Finally, with what is going on there, I figure that is who they will be sending.” He said with a small grin.
Ruefully, the captain just stared at the chef for a moment. He had been planning on asking the chef to be prepared to host some VIPs and to prepare a good meal for tomorrow evening when they picked up their first guest, but he had beaten the captain to the punch.
“Very well then. Carry on.”
“Was there something you wanted to speak with me about captain?” The chef said with a bit of confusion.
“No, no, I don’t think so now. You appear to have everything under control. So…ah actually there is one thing. If you are putting a roast on, can you make up some of those garlic pork sausages you made two weeks ago for president Mimobo’s visit?”
Still a bit confused, the chef answered “yes, of course sir. Is there anything else?”
“No, that will be all. Thank you.”
Shaking his head slowly, Petrov walked out of the Chef’s office and back into the corridor. His quarters where the next compartment down, not more than twenty feet and the doors opened for him as he neared.
“Lights” he commanded.
Slowly the lights came up and the stars streaking past his large starboard windows faded away to almost nothingness with the harshness of the brightness.
Next he asked the computer for some light classical music and crossed to the servitor.
“Computer, I would like a ham sandwich, and orange juice.”
Taking the proffered meal from the servitor, he set it on his dining table and picked up his pad and had a seat. The captain looked around and once more, shook his head in amazement at the amount of paperwork there was, although that was a misnomer. No one had used actual paper for official business in over a hundred years.
Between bites he reviewed the myriad reports sent to him and occasionally looked over the intelligence briefs. While the current documents he was reviewing could be done at any time, he was almost finished and he wanted to get them filed before they arrived. A letter of recommendation for Ensign zh’Shela for Advance Tactical Station training. A letter of commendation for Petty Officer Sopek for discovering a poorly configured impulse array emitter when a rating two grades higher should have caught it first.
Then there were the daily logs, the weekly logs, the monthly logs, and the annual logs to review. Promotions to sign off on. Performance evaluations. Efficiency reports. It never ended.
Finally, he contacted the chief steward of the diplomatic section to ensure all was prepared for their important visitor.
Satisfied that the most urgent issues were resolved, Petrov placed his plate back into the servitor and decided to get some sleep. Undressing as he crossed his quarters, he put down the lights once more and slipped into bed.
In complete darkness, the colorful streaks of the stars passing by where a brilliant wall paper though the large windows of his suite. Watching them go by was hypnotic and within moments he was peacefully asleep.
Stardate XXX (8.5 Hours later)
1 Parsec from Earth
A bosun pipe, familiar to anyone who has served on a ship in the last five hundred years blasted its call into the captain’s stateroom indicating a message to follow.
“Captain? Bridge.” Came the message.
Petrov opened his eyes and quickly rolled over and sat up, fully awake. He had always been a deep sleeper, but able to awake at a moment’s notice fully refreshed with as little as three hours of sleep. As it was, he had a full eight and a half hours, a luxury most federation captains did not get because of their demanding schedules.
“Bridge, this is the captain, report.” Said Petrov without the slightest evidence of having just woken up.
“Captain, we just passed one parsec from Earth and are reducing speed to warp three as instructed by approach. We are to then reduce speed to warp one at the Mars boundary, which is in another 52 seconds, and then translate to impulse at the outer marker. We should be at Starbase XXX in about six minutes, sir.” Stated the officer of the watch with a gentle ease of having done this many, many times before.
“Very well, I will be on the bridge shortly.”
“Should we contact approach and ask for a berth assignment sir?” asked the communications officer of the watch.
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t believe we will be here very long.”
“Aye aye sir.”
Petrov completed grooming himself and made sure he was presentable before heading out into the corridor and onto the bridge.
“Ah captain. We were just hailed by the Federation council. We will be taking an ambassador Reese on board. He is awaiting transport now sir.”
Ah, that was even a quicker turn around than Petrov had anticipated.
Petrov turned to the helmsman and asked, “Has approach issued us a parking orbit yet?”
“Not yet sir. Do you want me to contact approach and remind them sir?” asked the helmsman.
However, just as he finished speaking the comms officer signaled that admiral XXX was hailing them.
“Put it on the main viewer.” Said the captain.
“Andre’, I know I told you that you would be getting further instructions once you reached Earth’s orbit but that will not be possible now since you will not be going into orbit. I want you to take Ambassador Reese aboard now and head for Altair immediately. He will give you your briefing and further instructions.”
“Very well admiral, understood. Are there any further orders sir?”
“No, just provide whatever assistance the ambassador requires. XXX out.”
“Very well then. Navigator, plot us a course for Altair. Helm, once the ambassador is aboard, set us on a course for Altair at best possible speed through the Sol Corridor. I will be in transporter room 2. Lt. Simmons, will you accompany me please? Officer of the watch, you have the bridge.”
With those simple instructions, Captain Petrov departed the bridge and headed down to C deck via Turbo Lift 1.
“Do you think he will have us expedite the passage then sir?” asked the First Officer.
“Oh, I think you can bet on it. In fact, if I had to guess, the chief engineer will not be getting much sleep over the next few days,” responded Petrov.
Half walking, half jogging, Petrov made it to Transporter room 2 in less than two minutes with Lt. Simmons struggling to retain his bearing while trying to keep up. As they entered, the transporter chief informed him that the ambassador was ready and anxious to come aboard.
“Energize.” Petrov simply stated.
Light shimmered and glowed as the Ambassador materialized in the transporter chamber. Once he realized he was in one piece and solid again, he stepped forward and down from the pad to be greeted by his host for the duration of the current situation.
Petrov was coming to attention and about to give him the formal greeting that ambassadors normally receive when welcomed aboard a star ship when the Ambassador walked hurriedly toward him and waved his hands down.
“Please, Captain, I really don’t like formality and we really do need to be getting along.” he explained.
Petrov, never one to turn down function over form, smiled and stepped back, indicating with his arm the way toward the door.
“Ambassador, please come along this way then and my first officer, Lt. Simmons here will get you situated in your state room while I go see about our departure. I assume sir that you will want us to take the shorter, rather than longer route to Altair?” Asked Petrov, smiling slightly.
With a nod from the Ambassador, Petrov smiled and said “My chief engineer will be happy. He has wanted to stretch the Mercury’s legs for quite some time.”
“In addition, once we are underway, would you be kind enough to come to my quarters so that we can discuss our little civil war that we are here to prevent?”
“Yes sir, of course. I am at your disposal.”
The captain smiled inside as he thought about the fact that he was available whenever the ambassador needed him.
The captain continued, “Our chef has put on quite a spread he tells me. Would you care to dine with me and my first officer in my quarters sir?”
“That would be nice. I have not eaten a real meal since leaving Alpha Centauri two days ago. However, if we could meet, and dine in my quarters I would prefer it.”
“Shall we say in 15 minutes then, in your quarters? I have a few things to arrange on the bridge and I will be right along.”
As the turbo lift doors opened, they could see that the chief steward was waiting in the aft bridge gallery.
“Yes, chief, do you have something for the ambassador?”
“Yes Sir. The ambassador’s personal affects were transported ahead of him and they have been placed in his suite.”
Turning to address the ambassador, the steward continued, “The chef has prepared a traditional North American Roast Beef dinner which can be served in your quarters or in the dining room at your convenience.”
“Thank you, steward. I wasn’t quite expecting such luxurious treatment on a Starfleet vessel but I am pleasantly surprised. Actually, your captain..” he gestured to his left, “..will be joining me in ten or fifteen minutes and we will have dinner then.”
“Very well sir, I will go see about it now.”
With that, the steward entered the VIP corridor to speak with the chef.
“Ambassador, I leave in you the very capable hands of Lt. Simmons and I will see you in about fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you for your hospitality captain. Until then.”
With that, the captain took his leave and turned to the left as Lt. Simmons gestured to the right and through a doorway between the two lifts.
As he entered the bridge from the gallery, the communication’s officer handed him a data viewer before he had gone more than a couple of steps. Stopping to read, the captain did not wait to reach his command chair before issuing commands.
Helm, take us to warp 9.2 once we are clear of speed restrictions.”
“YeeHawww” Whooped the chief engineer, Lieutenant Bush.
Barely suppressing a grin, the captain covered his mouth with his hand as if to cover a yawn. “I take it that my order to the helmsman is to the satisfaction of the chief engineer?”
“It certainly sounds like it to me Sir and he beat me to it by a split second” Commented the helmsman.
The captain allowed a certain level of familiarity on the bridge, more so than most captains, but it was always wise to keep it limited lest someone go too far.
Having waited for the joking to quiet down and seeing the look on the captain’s face, the helmsman repeated the captain’s order. “Warp 9.2, aye sir.”
Deep vibrations could be felt in the deck plating as the inertial dampeners struggled, though managed to keep up with the awesome acceleration as the ship strained to accelerate to warp 9.2.
Petrov grinned ruefully when around the crew, and like a child with a new toy when no one was looking. Diplomatic niceties such as five star suites and an actual chef where not the defining characteristics however in Petrov’s mind. The U.S.S. Hermes may not have been a front-line combat ship, but it was fast, very fast in both normal and subspace. It had to be, to be a courier ship when time was a critical factor in most of its assigned missions. And speed was not its only defining characteristic. The refit saw to that. New impulse engines that would have not felt too small on a Constitution class cruiser could push it along at unbelievable accelerations. In addition, it’s weapons layout where quite unique for such a small ship. Two type ? phasor arrays, one on each side of the saucer section, as well as a seldom seen configuration of two external photon torpedo launch canisters that held four torpedoes each. As each torpedo had its own tube, they could all be fired simultaneously, thus giving it the distinct advantage of being able to effectively double the salvo rate of a Constitution class star ship, for at least the first exchange of fire. Any pirate or minor power that thought the Hermes would be a quick score would find out that its sting was much larger than appearances suggested. Hopefully, the would-be attacker wouldn’t realize that the Hermes could not repeat its first volley and would run away.
Right now, the captain was observing the Hermes’s most important feature however, it speed.
“Captain, did I hear correct? Warp 9.2?” asked the incredulous Lt. Simmons, who had just entered the bridge.
“That you did number one.” Replied the captain with a grin he was having trouble concealing.
“And we are doing this with or without Starfleet approval,” winced the first officer. The captain was a bit of risk taker, although, he thought, what starship captain wasn’t. Simmons didn’t think it was absurd to think that the captain might be taking advantage of the cleared passage to Altair to “redline” the engines.
Realizing what he meant, the captain shook his head in mock indignation at the implications of the first officer’s words.
“I am hurt, number one. Of course we have Starfleet approval. Ambassador Reese had the orders transferred as he came aboard” Petrov answered, chuckling.
Sobering a bit, the captain faced the first officer. “Is the ambassador squared away?”
“Yes, sir. I gave him the usual dog and pony show and he seemed happy enough.”
“Good, good. Please make sure he has whatever he needs while he is a guest aboard the Hermes. We have our reputation to think of you know.” The captain said, smiling mischievously.
“Sir?” Interrupted the navigator. “We have just passed the outer Sol perimeter.” The navigator continued in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Already?” the first lieutenant said in shock before he could stop himself.
Normally, speed restrictions as well as traffic control meant that the outer perimeter was at least half an hour from Earth. From his reckoning, they had been at warp for less than three minutes.
Composing himself somewhat better, the first officer continued.
“I think I could get used to this. Helm what is our projected arrival time at Altair?”
“Approximately, thirty one hours and forty two minutes to Altair orbit, sir,” the helmsman replied without looking at his display.
The first officer shook his head in disbelief. Captain Petrov looked on in understandable sympathy.
Clearing his throat however, he settled back into business.
“Chief engineer? Do your duties allow you to be away from the bridge for about an hour?” asked the captain in a tone that said it was not a question.
“I believe I can find someone to cover for me sir” the engineer replied solemnly.
“Then please come with me and the first officer to VIP suite I. We will be dining with the ambassador and discussing the mission details.”
With that, the three officers rose and walk to the bridge gallery. Stopping to adjust uniforms and ensure they looked presentable, they continued on through the hatch into the VIP section. Suite I was merely fifteen feet from the hatch and as they approach the captain stood in front of the door with his two officers flanking him on either side.
Pressing the door chime, the captain awaited the steward to notify the ambassador and allow them entry. To their surprise however, the ambassador appeared at the door and motioned for them to enter.
“I know I am not an officer aboard you ship captain, but I told the steward that I would not be needing his services tonight. I also asked the chef to set up a buffet rather than serve us. I would like to get down to business and let these poor men get some rest rather than play servant to me. I hope you do not mind. Plus, it will allow us to loosen our ties so-to-speak and be more at ease,” said the ambassador anachronistically since ties had gone out of vogue over two hundred years earlier.
“No need to apologize sir. That is just fine and although I have been known to drive the crew, I will not make work for them when there is none. Number one, will you let their crew chiefs know that they are off duty now? Petrov said, glancing over his shoulder to the first officer.
“Of course sir, I will take care of that now” he said as he moved to a comm station by the door.
The ambassador gestured to the dining area and the row of sliver chafing dishes could be seen lining the wall behind the table. The smell was incredible and if the taste was as good as the smell, then they were in for a treat, thought Petrov.
As each officer collected a plate, they passed down the line opening the dishes and commenting on the skills of the chef. One by one, they filled their plates and sat down at the ambassador’s table. As the senior official and their host, the ambassador sat at the head of the table with the captain to his right and the first officer on his left. The chief engineer was left to sit next to the first officer.
“Before we dive into politics gentlemen, why don’t we take a few moments to savor this meal and relax for a few moments? I had wanted to get right down to business, but I am afraid that the extensive travel and lack of proper food over the last forty eight hours has caught up with me.
The captain nodded slowly and gestured to the meal before them.
“Well the chef has certainly outdone himself today, or perhaps it just feels that way to me because there are no Vulcan salads, Tellarian beetle drops, or Andorian octopi sandwiches.” He chuckled with wry amusement on his face.
Petrov could see that there was a general agreement on that comment.
“The four of us all happen to be from Earth and from areas that enjoy similar foods, so it is no wonder chef chose these particular dishes,” mused the chief engineer.
“I can see that my request for the Mercury had unexpected fringe benefits,” said the ambassador as he looked at his meal with obvious delight.
Caught off guard, the chief engineer looked perplexed.
“May I ask sir why you would request the Hermes? She is indeed fast, but as we had to come from XXX, there must have been other ships nearer to Earth that would have gotten you to Altair more quickly. In fact, the Lexington was docked at Starbase XXX when we transported you up, sir. She is as fast as we are, if not indeed faster.”
“A very good question Lieutenant. I would like to say it was because of the Mercury’s reputation for treating its Guests.” As he waved his hand around him suggesting the meal and suite. “However, it was a combination of things. For instance, Altair is long-time federation member. How do you think they would take it if we came streaking into their system at warp nine in a battle cruiser? They would wonder what kind of game we were playing at. A warship has no particular value in this situation except for speed. The Mercury however, is a known diplomatic vessel, is fast, carries no implication except for compromise and negotiation, has excellent facilities for hosting delegations, and its communications suite is among the finest in the fleet.”
Satisfied with that answer, and taking it as a compliment, the chief engineer returned to his meal with a smile.
Between mouthfuls, the ambassador looked over at the captain.
“You are being quiet tonight. That is not your reputation. Do you have any questions you would like to pose captain Petrov?”
Looking directly at the ambassador, Petrov answered.
“You have answered why the Mercury. But why you sir?” Petrov asked without apology.
“Ambassador Reese, why were you chosen to mediate Altair’s internal conflict when there is any number of Federation council members or local diplomats that could be there in a timelier manner?”
“Very good question captain.” The ambassador said slowly with a small frown. Not that he was upset with the question, but rather, he had decided to not jump into business yet and he felt that his qualifications where too central, too pertinent to the question at hand to forego the discussion.
“Of course, I won’t give you my entire bio, which you can see in the Ship’s database anyway, but I will give you a quick rundown. One, I went to grade school on Altair, when my father worked at the Federation shipyard. Two, my wife is Altairian. Three, I speak fluent Altairian. While you may not think that a skill worth mentioning, what with the universal translator, I am familiar with the languages nuances and can use it effectively. And four, I have particular experience with labor and mineral disputes.”
“No disrespect intended sir, but are there not others who have those same skills that are already in the vicinity of Altair?” asked the first officer politely.
The ambassador looked at him for moment and with a slight, sly grin he said, “Well, perhaps it could be because President XXX, President XXX, and I studied debate together during our graduate studies on Tellar and I consider the two of them to be among my closest friends.”
The three federation officers let that sink in for a moment as they realized how good a choice Ambassador Reese was for solving this current situation. The two presidents he mentioned where the current leaders of the two largest regional governments. Although there was a strong planetary government and the planet as a whole was a staunch member of the federation, it still fostered local, regional conflicts from time to time.
If asked, most would say it was absurd to think it could come to a military confrontation. Instead, the situation was akin to that between Spain and Gibraltar in the twentieth century; friendly, but with some serious disagreements.
The ambassador could see that that final bit of information was not lost on them. He continued, “while the University of XXX on Tellar is among the best in the Federation, if not the known universe, it does have one potential side affect. It imparts a bit of Tellarian stubbornness and a willingness to fight for the most trivial or petty of reasons. In politics, this can be a good thing if handled correctly, but otherwise it can deepen rifts among non-Tellarites, that would otherwise be easily mended on Tellar.”
“I intend to drag the two of them together and bash their heads together,” the ambassador said, smiling.
“Or at least so-to-speak,” he continued.
The captain sat up straighter in his chair and adjusted his shirt.
“What can we do for you during this mission sir? How can we best support you?” the captain asked.
“Let me give a very quick rundown on the problem first. About two months ago a mineral exploration company found a deep and rich vein of Dilithium on XXX’s third satellite, really an airless planetoid about the size of Earth’s own moon,” explained the ambassador.
Interrupting, the first officer spoke up. “A vein of Dilithium has gone undiscovered in the heart of the federation until two months ago? That is unheard of. When was the last time Dilithium was discovered so close? How could it go undetected with the state of the art of scanner technology?” the officer appeared exasperated.
The captain spoke up first. “I looked it up actually. The last true, extractable and worthwhile vein was discovered on XXX about eighteen years ago. True, though, scanner technology has progressed by leaps and bounds in the last few decades and it is absurd to think that such a valuable find could go so long undiscovered.”
The ambassador nodded at that and answered the last question. “It appears that the vein was actually entwined with another vein of XXX that blocked all evidence of the Dilithium.”
The chief engineer smirked. “That would do it sir. It is natures cloaking device. If it weren’t so dense, toxic and just plain hard to handle, I think someone would have actually used it as a cloaking material. I imagine now, that everyone and their brother are tweaking their scanners to search for XXX in the hopes that other Dilithium finds are out there.”
“Indeed you are correct. Geologists are going crazy and every hull that can carry a planetary scanner is searching federation planets hoping for a windfall. Nevertheless, getting back on topic, you are all aware of the implications of a find like this?”
“Of course, but how did this come to blows sir?” asked the chief engineer.
“Well, it hasn’t come to blows. Well, not yet at least, and I will keep it from ever going that far. But to answer the question that I think you were asking, it was about to come to blows because the find will have immense implications for the owner.”
“Doesn’t Altair own it then?”
“Does Earth own a gold vein if the Merell Tranday engineering corporation finds it on Mars?” replied the ambassador?
“Ah, I see what you mean. So, who does own the find?”
“That is the question we are not here to answer. I don’t decide right or wrong gentlemen. I help them get along and set a mutually acceptable way to resolve their differences. I won’t go so far as to say that I don’t care, but it is secondary to the real issue. But to answer your question, it appears that the problem is tricky. Country A has a very smart, actually, very very smart geologist who predicted the Dilithium’s existence before it was found. However, before securing permission from Country B to drill for it, he contracted a private company and just went out there and found it. Now Country B says that it belongs to them. Country A says however that Country B had abandoned the planetoid years ago and had thus relinquished their mineral rights to said planetoid.”
“Country A has had economic problems lately and indigenous production of Dilithium would greatly benefit its civilian starship production. They are one of the largest producers in the federation but have been hit hard lately with a fall-off of demand. This Dilithium find came at a very precipitous occasion for them.”
“Country B has had similar problems but sees the export value of the find.”
The captain could see that the discussion was sliding off course.
“So, they each have valid grievances at least at face value. How are we to help you on this mission?”
“Ahh, so you want to get to specifics. Ok, let’s do that. If all goes to plan, I will really only need you to take me to XXX’s moon where the Dilithium was found. And then...”
The captain interrupted before the ambassador could finish.
“Not to Altair itself? I would think you would want to get the two presidents together as soon as possible,” the captain interjected, a bit apologetically.
“Yes, of course but I believe that we will find them at the moon already. They will want to be on site so they can confront one another. It is there that we will find them. Remember, I know these two men very well. It is important that we come in under impulse and with shields down.”
The chief engineer paused for a moment and then offered a question. “Sir, if a warship would offer no value because they would not see it as a threat, then how would the opposite help us. What purpose would we have for keeping the shields down?”
“Well there are several reasons, but to keep it simple we are trying to show them that we are all members of the same family, the federation family. We want to reinforce the fact that although there may be regional differences and regional municipalities, we all belong to the federation. Shields are for enemies. And we want to come in at impulse so that they can get a good long look at us. We don’t want to warp right into orbit unannounced. I am hoping that when they see us coming in they will sober up a bit.”
The discussion continued for about another hour and devolved into political details as well as the details of approach vectors, communications channels, and arrival time. Once they had exhausted the topic, the ambassador invited them to share Ale in the living room. The engineer excused himself because of other duties and the other two officers departed shortly thereafter.
As the captain walked to his quarters it dawned on him that this trip would have been a very good opportunity for training. He had taken on a few new crewmen and it would be good to expose them to opportunities for training and experience. Once he got back to his quarters, he would have a conversation about putting a junior crew on the bridge and in engineering for the duration of the mission. What could possibly go wrong this deep in federation space?
Stardate XXX (15 minutes prior to entering Altair system)
Altair
The captain’s communicator chimed.
“Officer of the watch to the captain.”
The captain answered the call immediately.
“Captain here.”
“Sir, we are approximately fifteen minutes from warp translation.”
“Very well. Please inform the Ambassador.”
“Aye aye sir"
“Also, please ask the first officer to come to my quarters.”
There was a small hesitation and then the officer of the watch continued.
“Aye aye sir, the first officer is on his way now.”
“Captain out.”
Not more than thirty seconds later there came a chime at the captain’s door.
“Come.” The captain said tersely.
“You asked to see me sir.”
“Yes, come in number one.” The captain rarely used that title unless he was in a jovial mood, which was always a good sign.
“I have some reports to finish so I will be along shortly. If I am not on the bridge, please handle the translation to normal space. “
“Yes sir. Is there anything else?”
“No.”
The first officer turned around and left the captain at his desk.
The Mercury was still over 1500 Astronomical Units, or AU’s from Altair, but at their current speed of warp 9.2, that distance would be covered in just over the next five minutes. Although based on an old Earth standard, AU’s had gained popularity early throughout the Federation and were used regularly. However, rather than being scientifically derived like the Metric system, the AU harkened back to the days of using the King’s arm to make a yard, or a person’s finger for an inch. One standard AU was the average distance between the Earth and Sol, the Earth’s primary star or as it was more simply used most often, its Primary. So the Hermes was about thirty times as far from Altair as Pluto was from Earth.
Time to go he thought. Rising from his desk, Petrov walked out of his quarters and across the hall to the Ambassador’s suite. He pressed the door chime and waited. Thinking that the Ambassador might be using the, um, facilities, he waited for a moment longer. Finally he decided not to wait any longer and turned to go to the bridge.
Entering the bridge, the captain had a moment of consternation when he saw the ambassador standing by the communications station speaking quietly to the first officer.
“Ah” the captain said. “I see you have already come to the bridge” he went on somewhat obviously.
“Yes, captain, I apologize. I wanted to see us enter Altair and have a word with the comm officer to ensure the correct channels where set up.”
Petrov waived him off. “Of course sir, no apology necessary.
As he was about to continue, the communications officer motioned for his attention. Turning towards the comm station, the captain addressed him.
“Yes, Lieutenant XXX.”
“Sir, we have just received a coded message from Fleet Admiral XXX, priority one alpha.”
“Now? We are less than one minute from entering Altair.”
Sighing, but catching himself before he showed any disrespect for the Admiral in front of the crew, he replied, “Lieutenant, I will take this in my quarters. Excuse me ambassador but I must take this.”
Normally he had no issue taking coded orders on the bridge, but in this case, he had an ambassador watching his every move and the orders came in as Priority One Alpha, the highest level. Besides, his quarters were literally seconds away.
“Yes, of course captain. Perhaps the good admiral has information that will be pertinent to our mission.”
Entering his quarters, Petrov could hear the normal activity of the bridge. Petrov liked to leave a bridge comm channel open so he could hear what was going on in his absence.
As he sat down at his desk to decode the admiral’s message he heard the first officer give the command for the helmsman to leave subspace and transition to impulse engines. They had arrived in record time. The trip had indeed become a very good opportunity for his crew. The senior officers got to spend some down time eating a better meal than ever came out of a servitor and the junior officers and enlisted got some much needed training in situations they did not get to see very often.
The captain could feel when they came out of warp. Not because of any sixth sense, but because the impulse engines had a distinct rhythm that was different than the warp engines.
They would be about two minutes out from XXX’s moon. By the time they entered orbit and the Ambassador began organizing his affairs, there were still a few minutes before he was absolutely needed on the bridge. Plenty of time to review the admiral’s message.
Impatient however to get back to the bridge, he began the message when a commotion on the bridge caught his immediate attention.
Ignoring the admiral’s recorded message, he transfixed on the bridge comm unit.
A voice he did not immediately recognize started speaking loudly and in an agitated tone. “I am telling you that we are a Federation courier ship on a diplomatic mission… No… Jus….wait…we have Ambassa…..Lt. Simmons, someone on that moon thinks we are mercenary’s here to settle this matter.”
The first lieutenant, still as calm as ever, spoke up. “Helm, let’s get down there as soon as possible, ahead full impulse, engage.”
“Aye, Aye sir, ahead full impulse.”
Then the world turned upside down.
Petrov had been on his feet, heading for the door and the next, he was face down with a throbbing bump from a glancing blow to an end table and a cut on his leg that he was not yet aware of. Realizing that something very serious was happening he shook his head to clear the confusion and got to his feet. Clearly something was wrong with the inertial dampeners and that was a very bad sign. The inertial dampeners were what kept him and the rest of the crew from becoming stains on the aft bulkhead when the ship accelerated at something like 50,000 Gs each time it lit off the impulse engines. Only something catastrophic enough to affect them deep within the ship could have allowed him to be knocked to the floor like that. While he tried to think of what to do next, Petrov was knocked to the floor again by more shocks when he heard the automated alarms begin to wail their frightful calls of red alert.
Then without preamble, the captain’s comm display threw up a structural diagram of the ship and damage indicators. Across the entire display in huge amber letters was a message for the captain.
“Recommend immediate abandon ship.”
“Oh no, no….no” cried Petrov as he began to tremble and feel the terrible fear begin to build deep inside him.
The only time the computer was permitted to autonomously suggest abandoning ship was when there was no doubt that the crew was in imminent peril and the only way to survive was by evacuating the ship.
“Bridge, report!” he screamed as he got to his feet.
He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of calling for a report earlier, it should have been his first response when he had been knocked down. He must have hit his head harder than he realized, he thought. He didn’t know what was happening, but the only place he could get answers was the bridge. Not receiving an answer to his call the first time, Petrov screamed again, his voice trembling.
“Bridge. Report!”
Not only were his movements like molasses as he half crawled, half stumbled toward the door, but his mind was lethargic as well. Why couldn’t he control his body and his own mind? It was like he was swimming, his movements and all sound hindered by the water. As he mentally berated himself for not heading for the bridge immediately, the deck trembled under his feet and he knew deep down that his ship was gravely injured.
Petrov couldn’t actually remember leaving his quarters and heading toward the bridge, but there he was, standing in the open doorway in stark terror. He was staring at the bridge hatchway and began shaking. The bright yellow and black emergency seals where in place around the circumference of the door. The only way that can happen is if one side of the door is in vacuum. This side certainly wasn’t so it had to mean that the bridge was.
Racing back to his quarters he violently pushed his chair away from behind his desk and his fingers flew across the controls to bring up the internal ship displays. He quickly found the bridge display and gasped. Before him was a maelstrom of ruin and debris. The entire upper portions of the bridge were missing and exposed to space, with wreckage strewn about and obvious evidence of some cataclysm that struck the bridge. There was no evidence at all of anyone on the bridge, save for what might have been a splash of red on the navigation display.
Taking in the bizarre and surreal scene in front of him, he realized the computer continued its repeated warnings of a warp core breach and the need to abandon ship. He quickly flipped through various displays of the rest of the ship. His breath caught as he saw that one of the warp nacelles was missing. No, not damaged, but actually missing. It was apparent that the ship was rotating about twice a minute as well. Looking up, he could confirm this by looking out of his own windows. The stars where spinning crazily. Thank goodness for small favors. The artificial gravity and inertial dampeners where still functioning.
If the damage to the bridge caused him to gasp, the display of the engineering section made him drop to his knee. Visibility was less than ten feet and he could see at least seven bodies in fallen heaps. Visibility was low however because it appeared that the warp core coolant system and been damaged and coolant filled the room. At twelve hundred degrees, it would not only kill anyone that came near it, but it would melt almost anything it touched except the actual hull itself and of course the core.
Repeated calls to other departments around the ship where in vain. Either they were dead or internal communications were down. It was impossible to tell which. Realizing that the only way to save those that might still have a chance, he did what he hoped he would never have to do.
Deliberately so that he would not make any mistakes, he entered his command code and issued an abandon ship order. With the damage the ship took it was no wonder that computer operations might be strained. Regardless, after twenty seconds, he could see that no announcements where being broadcast across the ship. Checking his input to ensure he had not mistyped, he could see that everything was in order. The computer was just not complying.
This was really bad. Federation crews were notorious for staying with their ships until the end. To compound this, if no order was given to abandon ship, then most crew members would think that the officers thought the ship was savable and would stay at their posts.
Looking around him, he could find nothing more to do that would help in this situation and for the first time in many, many years, he was at a loss as to what to do next. There was an escape pod at the end of “A” deck, but how could he abandon ship by himself?
Thinking quickly however, he decided to see who else was in VIP section. Racing to the door just ten feet away, the captain issued an executive override and entered the Ambassador’s suite. He screamed out for Ambassador Reese, but could not find him in any of the various rooms of the cavernous suite.
Next, he ran without hesitation to the dining facility to see if the chef or steward where there. Finding no one else on the deck, Petrov stopped in the middle of the deck and stared at the escape pod. The computer continued to count down to its predicted warp core breach. Ninety seconds to go. However, these things could not be predicted so easily and he actually had between one minute and who knows how much more. Though he did not necessarily want to stick around to see how well the computer had estimated.
What could he do? He had no EVA suite and thus could not open the hatch to the bridge. Communications where down and he did not have an engineering display in his quarters. The shuttle pod had minimal maneuvering capability and no airlock in case he actually could position the pod near an external hatch. How could he go? He was the captain. They are the last ones to leave a ship. Perhaps others had gotten off the ship. That gave him hope. After all, the computer was issuing a non-stop suggestion to all senior officers’ displays to abandon ship
Making up his mind Petrov turned and started running down A-deck past his cabin towards the escape pod at the end of the corridor.
Finally reaching the pod, it having been pre-activated by the computer when it issued its abandon ship announcement, he dove in and slapped the large emergency hatch closure on the bulkhead. Although it was intended for ten people, it seemed claustrophobic. Pulling himself into a restraint, he felt the reassuring jolt as the pod pushed away from the stricken ship. Once the pod was clearly away, he unbuckled the harness and drifted over to the view port to get a good look at what had happened to his home for the last two years. As he was about to get a good look as the stricken ship rotated by the view port, a blinding flash cause the window to go opaque and he could see nothing more. Bits of something hard could be heard pinging off the hull of the escape pod and he hoped that the hull could withstand the shotgun blast.
The escape pod detected other ships in the area that where broadcasting federation IFFs and it orientated itself in their direction and fired its impulse drive. Within moments, the view began to clear and he frantically moved from view port to view port trying to find the remains of his ship. There was nothing but wreckage, much of it glowing white hot and streaming away in all directions at high speed.
Remembering the escape pod location console he quickly jumped back into his seat. Pressing a button brought up the display on the wall across from him. He turned the distress beacon up to full power and then the locater scanner up to full power as well. The power could be adjusted to allow for better energy management in case the pod found itself days or weeks away from help. However, there was nothing on the display. A few other ships appeared, but not a single escape pod. How could that be?
Before he could ponder this enigma more, there came a hard jolt and he realized that a tractor beam must have grabbed the pod. The view stopped spinning and it was obvious he was being pulled in a certain direction. Before too much longer, he could see the doors of a shuttle bay and he was placed on the deck of a ship at least large enough to carry shuttles. The bay doors closed and air was pumped in. As he was ensuring that the pressure was sufficient outside the pod, someone started banging on the hatch with some sort of metallic tool. Reaching over, Petrov hit the hatch release button and the hatch slowly opened, extending a ladder to the deck.
Petrov jumped out of the pod and grabbed the first person he saw.
“Where is the Mercury,” he screamed at the startled crewman.
“Where is your captain? I need a shuttle. We have to look for survivors. Have you found any more pods?”
Crewman on the cargo ship looked upon him with sadness. Petrov had started babbling and it was apparent that he was going to have a breakdown.
“Mister, Mister!” screamed one crewman.
“You must calm down. We are trying to find other pods but yours is the only one we have found so far. Please come with me to the…”
However, before he could finish the captain collapsed.
Stardate XXX (two weeks later)
Starbase XXX
After action report
U.S.S. Mercury lost with all hands except for captain.
Captain found to not be culpable as had no way to fix the problem and none of his actions led to the loss.
Additional notes:
Petrov is given an intelligence briefing that oberths are being rebuilt in Altair and sold out of service.
The ambassador asks if they can come in unannounced but is worried that traffic control will alert Altair to their presence. The captain assures him it can be done and that they will squawk a normal IFF rather than diplomatic one.
The admirals at the inquiry tell Petrov that they have information, depositions, and communications logs from Altair. The two presidents provide all information and both resign.
Some bridge conversations. A rueful comment by the captain about having not one, but two corn-fed North Americans on board and how he is going to have to put up with their “enthusiasm.”
A comment to or from the chief engineer about testing the engines to max speed on the way to Starbase 2. The need to test the newly refit engines before heading out on a four-year mission.
There is a problem with the engines and a small explosion. The captain leaves the bridge to assess the situation and lend assistance.
Introduce Petrov in more detail.
Find out problem can be fixed at Starbase 2 rather than ending mission before it began.
Lt. Simmons made a gesture with his arm to take in the entire suite and said, “You will find a bedroom through those doors there” he said, pointing towards the end of the expansive room.
“You have, as you can see, a dining table here that will seat six and two servitors that will provide virtually any dietary preferences you have. You also have a living room that will seat twelve with a display wall on the far end. Lavatory and bathing facilities are through the bedroom.”
“Thank you lieutenant, but I need to go through some papers and get prepared for when your captain arrives. I think I can figure out the rest here.” He said smiling grimly.
“Of course, sir. I will leave you now but like the steward, just let me or anyone on board know if you need any help.”
This entire sections needs to be rewritten and fixed.
• Chapter 5 – Stardate 2260
• Picard is given a set of orders to head to sector xx. He is also given all of the logs from the Lewis and Clark. He is to find the Neutron star and stop it from reentering normal space and stay in subspace where it will not do any harm.
• He is told the nature of how the data came to them.
• At one point, a member of the staff says something like “Oh…that Petrov…from the incident at [someplace]. The only time in federation history that a civil conflict came to blows.
• NOTE: Perhaps we should have the entire crew die, but Petrov thinks they saved them all, and that is why he died with a smile and words to some effect that the demons are gone. Perhaps, as he is dying, he hallucinates that Lt. Simmons in full dress uniform and surrounded by the crew of the Hermes welcomes him and congratulates him. He is found with a smile on his face and his journal in his hands. The last sentence reads “The demons are gone. The demons are gone.”
• Picard briefs the staff on their mission and informs them of the bizarre nature of the information. He makes a particular comment to Troi about Captain Petrov’s final comments and she starts reading his bio. She begins to dig further and starts reading about the Hermes. We find out then what really happened.
• They eventually discover an artificial warp field around the star and turn it off. This could be a huge plot point. Something about determining where to put it, etc.
Shipyard Conference Center
Utopia Planitia, Mars
Sol System
United Federation of Planets
Alpha Quadrant
Stardate [Roughly two years prior to ST:NG]
Melissa Lynn Holland stepped off of the central transporter platform of the Shipyard Conference Center and walked directly towards the commons area of the facility. The center was a hive of activity with many representatives from various planets throughout known space. A lot of thought went into creating an environment that would encourage people to communicate freely and comfortably and the architecture of the structure was impressive. Throughout the entrance level there were many plants, small water features, and sitting areas that were bathed in natural light. There were also many kiosks and vendor stands available to cater to the various needs of visitors from all over the Federation. As Melissa was taking this all in, she noticed many small groups sitting together, sipping beverages and talking. Although already a branch chief, his was her first official trip off-planet with Star Fleet and was excited about the prospects of the tour.
Just as she was headed to the registration desk to check in and receive her quarters assignment, she noticed a familiar face in the crowd. Erla Zwingle, with whom she had attended the University of Eranas on Tellar so many years before, was standing in front of one of the centers information terminals examining something on the screen. Melissa approached her, “Erla? What are you doing here?”
Erla blinked a few times and stared at Melissa as if she was trying to put everything into context but then smiled and opened up her arms. As they hugged, she asked “What are you doing here?”
Melissa stepped back, still holding Erla’s hands and explained that she was at the conference center for an Intelligence analysts tour of the Utopia Planitia ship yards and the U.S.S. Galaxy which had just completed trials and was fitting out for its first mission.
• Melissa Lynn Holland is attending a familiarization tour of Utopia Planitia ship yards provided to Star Fleet Intelligence Analysts. The highlight of the tour is the last day when they will be given a briefing on the new Galaxy class star ship, followed by a holodeck tour and capped with a fly-by tour of the Enterprise under construction.
• Melissa learns something about the sensor capabilities of a galaxy class star ship that she did not know before. Normally her office would get information on new ship capabilities, but the Sensor array that she learns about was a last minute addition to the Enterprise and it was overlooked.
• She will have to wait two years for Enterprise to be ready, and then when it is ready, there are many projects ahead of hers. She doesn’t have a smoking gun to be able to get the priority to task a ship like the Enterprise.
• NOTE: At some time the Lewis and Clark is found and the data is the smoking gun that Melissa is searching for. It ties everything together and will allow the Enterprise, with its superior sensor suite to find the neutron star in sub space.
•
“YeeHawww” Whooped LCDR Hank “Bull” Jessop.
Barely suppressing a grin, the captain covered his mouth with his hand as if to cover a yawn. “I take it that my order to the helmsman is to the satisfaction of the first officer?”
“It certainly sounds like it to me Sir and he beat me to it by a split second” Commented the Chief Engineer.
Having waited for the senior officers to quit talking, the helmsman repeated the captain’s order. “Warp 9.2, aye sir.”
Deep vibrations could be felt in the deck plating as the inertial dampeners struggled to keep up with the awesome acceleration as the ship strained to reach warp 9.2.
Some bridge conversations. A rueful comment by the captain about having not one, but two farm-bred North Americans on board and how he is going to have to put up with their “enthusiasm.”
A comment to or from the chief engineer about testing the engines to max speed on the way to Starbase 2. The need to test the newly refit engines before heading out on a four-year mission.
There is a problem with the engines and a small explosion. The captain leaves the bridge to assess the situation and lends assistance.
Introduce Petrov in more detail.
Find out problem can be fixed at Starbase 2 rather than ending mission before it began.
Start mission…
• Mellissa tries various ways to get the data she wants. She goes to the stellar cartography chief on the enterprise and tries to get him to do a search for him. He informs the captain. Next she finds out about a new class of probe that is going to be sent out. It uses advanced AI to warp out to an unexplored region and listen for communications in all bands.
• She negotiates to get the region of space she is interested in assigned as one of the probes assigned areas.
• The probe is launched. It takes months to get there. It has a low power warp engine with old technology and lots of fuel.
• Once it gets there, they think it is broken because of the “howl” they hear on the subspace channel.
Setting:
Poltek is drifting toward the planetary debris field and will start to encounter dangerously large rocks in about 10 minutes. Woody is coming from the bridge after having ordered Petty officer Smith to take the new Galileo Shuttle craft and strip it quickly and install as much RAM as possible and a field portable Super Computer and as many batteries as possible.
Sirens wailed as Woody shot out of the turbo-lift and raced down C Deck at breakneck speed toward the shuttle bay at the end of the dim corridor. The grave and apprehensive look on his face indicated the life and death struggle that was about to ensue. If they were very lucky they had less than three hours before the shuttle bay would be in a hard vacuum.
It would have been sooner than that but the helmsman had bought them this extra time by coming up with the idea of positioning the ship at a heading and attitude that allowed the saucer section to protect the aft shuttle bay from much of the damage from the storm of debris. This course of action, of course, increased the damage to the saucer section immensely and required immediate evacuation of the forward compartments much sooner than the captain would have preferred. This now made the shuttle bay the most critical part of the ship and the key to the entire crews’ survival. But this wasn’t however, foremost on Woody’s mind as he vaulted over a startled crewman knocking him to the deck.
Two hours prior, Woody had ordered Petty Officer Smith to immediately begin stripping the Galileo and although he would normally trust the Petty Officer to do a very competent job, this wasn’t the time to leave anything to chance. With the lives of the entire crew in the balance, there was simply too much at stake to rely upon someone else, especially if the other person is very junior and inexperienced. If they didn’t get this right the first time, the entire crew would be lost and it would probably be his fault. As he reached the shuttle bay hatch, Woody slapped the door switch and barely waited for it to open before pushing his way through. Sitting five meters in front of him was the Galileo. [fill in info about the shuttle]. In more ordinary times, he would have stopped and admired this new craft, but today left no time for anything that did not directly contribute to the ship’s survival. The thought didn’t enter his mind as he continued his race to the open hatch just in time to see the crewman backing out of it with his hands full.
“Smith! Give me an update on how far you have gotten.” Petty Officer John Smith started to come to attention but noticed the agitation on the Chief Engineers face and decided not to.” Sir, I just finished removing the secondary life support module and cutting away its supports.”
“Then what are the tools for?”
“I was just returning them to the locker, sir”
“The what?” Woody asked incredulously.
“The locker, sir. Standard operating procedure is to return all equipment to the equipment locker when finished with it.”
The veteran LT could not believe what he was hearing. It was like cold water had been dumped on him and it stopped him dead in his tracks. It was the final injustice in a day of injustices. How could he not see the urgency of their plight, thought Woody. It was the final straw that caused him to snap.
In a voice that was a mix of both rage and what might have been tears, Woody unleashed his ire on the young crewman.
“You are doing what? What is wrong with you? We could be dead at any moment. We are counting our lives in mere hours and you are taking time to return equipment we will never use again to its locker?”
Woody grabbed for the tools in Smith’s hands spilling most but managing to get a hold on one. Shaking with rage he waved it in front of Smith’s face threateningly. In barely controlled and halting words he shouted; “We will all die if you don’t think for yourself. I can’t hold your hand this time. These tools will all be floating in space within the next few hours and we will either be in that shuttle or floating along with them.”
Still shaking, he threw the tool across the bay striking one of the gantry supports.
“Get out of my sight and go help them to eject the warp core.”
Pushing past the startled Petty Officer, Woody stepped into the shuttle and stopped in his tracks. He was completely livid at what he was seeing and momentarily considered going to get Smith and express more of his displeasure with him. Before him was evidence of very precise, time consuming cuts to remove supports. Cuts that where then beveled to remove sharp edges and primed as if to pass muster for inspection. Woody didn’t expect to see as much work done as he himself could have completed, but he expected to see at least half the equipment removed. What he saw though were two auxiliary units missing and all their power leads and connectors precisely capped off and bundled meticulously. Looking over his shoulder he could see the two units sitting on a cart in front of the storage locker that he had not noticed earlier.
With a deep sigh LT Woody turned to the enormous amount of work before him. He picked up a cutting torch and began removing the remaining equipment.
• How does the transporter work?
• Do the multi-year missions leave federation space or do they merely skirt it in a spiral?
• What year is this set?
• What are the crew’s names?
• What is the organization of the Federation?
• What is the top speed of the shuttle craft?
• Goals
• Words per page: 279
• Total pages: 271
• Total Chapters: 30
• Chapter length: 11 Pages/3069 Words
• Total Length: 75609 words.
Notes:
· Petrov is part of the federation diplomatic corps. They have a small fleet of ships. Usually retired or used star fleet ships. Perhaps a branch of star fleet. This explains his later mission he is asked to shuttle an ambassadors and other politicos to a newly discovered star system. A long distance, but easy trip. Pete iv had been on a desk. Advising. Training. Etc.
· Melissa is investigating and thinks to ask the computer to plot any others anomies along the path and a missing starship aligns perfectly with the path.