[LAB Phase 1]: Of Marvel and Mystery

Description

All across the galaxy, Underspace apertures have unexpectedly begun to appear out of nowhere. Whether it’s strange sensor readings or encountering an unexpected alien power or being pulled into an aperture, or something else altogether, crews all across the quadrant find themselves grappling with a scientific mystery of epic proportions. Yours is among them.

The theme of this writing competition is “the marvel and mystery of discovery”. From the point of view of your command, describe the experience of your crew in those initial moments when they first find themselves face-to-face with the Underspace. What do they see and how do they react? This competition is not about the action, but about the experience. Your entry will be assessed for descriptive prose, more so than dialogue, and extra credit will be awarded for well-integrated technobabble that helps describe the scene.

Criteria

  • Your story must be between 1,500 and 3,000 words in length. It must be your independent creative work, and it must have been written and posted during the duration of this competition.
  • Your story must be posted to your individual command as part of a mission that is attached to the Labyrinth fleet-wide mission. Stories from fleet-wide sandboxes and role-playing games are not eligible for this competition.
  • Your submission should be a link to the story posted to your command. While you are encouraged to choose a story from the ongoing fleet action, only the single submitted story will be graded and judged.
  • Your submission will be graded in accordance with the Bravo Fleet Fiction Rubric, which marks on the following criteria: Language, Style, & Mechanics; Adherence to Canon; Perspective; Characterization; Originality; Use of the Prompt.

Winners

Submissions

User ID Content Date Entry
Sazra Kobahl 2545

https://bravofleet.com/story/124755

 2024-06-30 20:13:16
2688

https://bravofleet.com/story/124756

 2024-06-30 18:51:30
Erill'Yun Mek 2187

“Mycelial Man”

https://bravofleet.com/story/124648

(Accidentally double posted this story so if that link doesn’t work, try https://bravofleet.com/story/124649)

Thanks!

 2024-06-30 05:24:45
Cressida Brennan 2765

https://bravofleet.com/story/124605

 2024-06-29 18:38:49
Alexandra Sudari-Kravchik 2121

https://bravofleet.com/story/122924

 2024-06-28 08:43:49
Theo Barrington 2080

Entry for [LAB Phase 1]: Of Marvel and Mystery - https://bravofleet.com/story/124463

 2024-06-27 22:06:59
Varen Wyll 2419

Entry of chapter 3.5 of Labyrinth Mission entitled "I Stared into the Void."

https://bravofleet.com/story/124240

 2024-06-26 00:42:34
Trevenan Williams 1295

(Note - I have chosen to submit this excerpt from my recent post - as to me it encapsulates both the best and worst of the human experience of Underspace & is told from the perspectives of 2 x different Starfleet crews, both present and past, as they struggle to overcome the challenges of being marooned in the anomaly.)

Mission: Hesperus Rising
Story#5: Norman’s Woe – Part 2
Location: Underspace / USS Subic Bay / Bridge / Deck 1
Stardate: 2401.7.12 /16:24hrs (Subjective Time)

“And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
Through the whistling sleet and snow,
Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept
Tow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe.”
The Wreck of the Hesperus – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1842)

“Away Team report.” Came the calm and measured voice of Chief Talbot Manningly, as Lieutenant T’Vran and Master Chief Saroga stood in the midst of a frozen tableau of despair and death.

The Executive Officer and the Tactical Training Hologram stood on what remained of the Bridge of the lost 23rd Century Vessel.
All around them, every surface was frosted in a patina of ice-crystals, as if the entire space had been transformed by a glittering sheen of diamonds – the light sparkling softly as it refracted the lights from T’Vran’s EVA suit (the TTH – needing no suit – stood incongruously in the space open to vacuum in his projection of a 23rd Century Security NCO’s Uniform).

The ice lay on the surface of consoles that had been torn apart, service hatches removed, and an intestinal-confusion of wiring exposed, as the crew had attempted to cannibalize parts in an effort to restore their ship to seaworthiness – much as the desperate crew of the USS Savannah was attempting to do now.

T'Vran looked at the grotesque frieze of corpses, dressed in uniforms similar to that of the TTH, frozen in the grisly moment of their individual deaths and fervently hoped that the fortunes of the USS Savannah were markedly more successful - than those of the USS Subic Bay had apparently not been.

Here, sat in the Captain’s chair, was the corpse of the Ship’s own Executive Officer (This apparent by the insignia on his sleeve. The body was missing its head and in the corpse’s hand, the graceful form of a Phaser – Pistol. A suicide then.
The frigid tale of desperation was played out in various, but differing, expressions of death around the away team. Here the skeletal bodies of an officer and a rating were locked with their hands forever clasped around each other’s bony throats – victims both of a violent ending.

Propped up against the CONN position, another body (possibly the Ship’s Doctor) in halted state of decomposition, sat Mummy – like – desiccated by cold and time. The body was missing its leg from the upper – femur down.

T’Vran was not sure where the rest of the leg was. She keyed her comm.

“Away Team here – Go ahead Savannah.”

“Helmet – cam feed is coming through with some interruption Lieutenant.” The Chief of the Boat reported from his position at the Mission Ops board on the bridge of the USS Savannah. “Attempting to compensate. Can you give us a situation report away team?”

“We have entered the pressure hull and have attained the Bridge Savannah.” T’Vran reported without fear as the TTH searched amongst the dead.

“The USS Subic Bay is without life support and in an advanced state of disrepair. We have encountered the remains of several of her crew. They appear to have died under duress. There are signs that an attempt to salvage parts from several systems was underway, but at this juncture it is impossible to construct a viable timeline of events to work from.” The XO reported efficiently.
There was a pause and then Chief Manningly sent.

“There may be residual power latent in some parts of the EPS system Lieutenant. That may be sufficient to restore emergency operating power. This may ease your passage to other decks.”

T’Rav played her helmet light around the charnel – pit that was once the proud Miranda (Refit) – Class’s bridge and sent.

“The Captain would likely have the correct codes to affect this Savannah – I don’t appear to see his remain here on the bridge?”

“That would be Captain Edward Norman.” Chief Manningly confirmed, obviously reading the late – CO’s service jacket records from the LCAR on the USS Savannah. “Try his ready room?”

“Copy that.” T’Vran sent and the TTH joined her.

In front of the entry to the Captain’s Ready Room, there were more corpses. The TTH indicated the door to the CO’s personal office. The surface was badly damaged and scored with phaser burns and gouges where a blunt object had been used, obviously in an attempt to pry the doors apart.

“Hmmf.” The Master – Chief nodded shortly, “Someone wanted in.”

T’Vran looked down at the corpses. These were also former members of the USS Subic Bay’s crew. The Vulcan wondered at what sequence of events had befallen the doomed crew, that such an obvious breakdown of the chain of command and discipline had given way to this troubling scene?

Together with the TTH’s powerful maniple fields and the Vulcan’s natural strength – T’Vran and the TTH were able to achieve what the dead plaintively could not in life and managed to force their way into the darkness of the ready room.

The remains of Captain Edward Norman were seated in front of his console at his desk, the desiccated remains were incongruously – dressed in a Captain’s full dress – uniform of the late 23rd era.

T’Vran frowned at a granular, reddish-brown substance that had frozen on the surface of the desk, until she saw the letter – opener that had fallen from the corpse’s hand to the shimmering carpet and realized that Captain Norman had used the object to open up the veins on both of his wrists.

Another suicide.

“Hmmf. Lieutenant – come look at this?”

The TTH summoned the XO and together they met at the couch and wondered at the scene before her. Yet another corpse, this obviously a young woman in an Ensign’s uniform, had been laid to rest on the couch, a blanket covering her body.

T’Vran moved to the desk and managed to activate the monitor. In the pervading mausoleum -darkness of the frozen Ready Room, a cold light illuminated her face as the wretched dead spoke to her from the long past.

“Savannah. We have located Captain Norman’s personal terminal. There appear to be fragments of the Captain’s log that are retrievable. For posterities sake, I am transmitting them to you. Please initiate a recording in the USS Savannah’s data – log.”

“Copy that Away – team, standing by.” Chief Manningly responded.

Lieutenant T’Vran started the first of the three recoverable Log Entries.

The screen flickered to life to reveal a Starfleet Captain, his red tunic undone at the white counterpane. Obviously, Captain Edward Norman. The man on screen looked careworn and haggard – his greying hair unkempt and dark circles told of a man pushed far beyond his physical endurance.

“Captain’s Log. Stardate 2291.7.12.” Captain Norman’s tone told a litany of stress.

“It is our 72nd day stranded here in the Anomaly.” Norman reported with a tired voice. “Whilst we have managed to maintain life – support on most of the undamaged decks and have withdrawn the surviving crew to the relative safety of the saucer section – our casualties mount daily, just as our numbers grow fewer. Of the Three Hundred and Sixty good souls aboard that followed me in my folly - into the rift – now only some One Hundred and Three remain. I carry the weight of their passing with me in every waking hour.”

Captain Norman rubbed his tired face, as if to rub away the feelings of remorse – but to no avail.

“I blame myself ultimately.” Ed Norman continued ruefully, “The mood aboard when we first discovered the Anomaly was one of excitement, jubilation even. The opportunity to glimpse into the unknown and touch the face of God. If you can imagine that?”

The haggard Captain on-screen took a belt from a dwindling bottle of whiskey and grimaced as the burning dram went down but failed to take the edge from his chagrin.

“After all! Isn’t that what Starfleet is supposed to be about? Boldly going?” He made a small smile at the remembrance of a happier time, “Even Annie was excited. Her mother had protested when she joined Starfleet. Wasn’t overjoyed when she graduated (although she’s always been such a smart kid – I never had my doubts). It’s strange now, to think that Kate was mollified somewhat that I had managed to swing it so that our Annie could serve aboard the Subic Bay with me. Thought it would be safer that way! What a joke that turned out to be – but there’s nothing funny about it at all.”

Captain Norman shook his head and tried to refocus on his log.

“I’ll edit that part out – if we ever make it out of here.” Ed commented and continued.

“Whilst we have managed to repair the Main deflector and are protected from the worst of the debris – field, Chief Engineer Rutherford is having a harder time restoring Warp Power. I have all of the respect in the world for Tom Rutherford and his capabilities – but the Warp-coils took a tremendous amount of strain during our passage through the threshold of the Anomaly’s event – horizon. The damage to the Starboard Nacelle is the more substantial of the two, but Tom has estimated that with work – crews working in shifts, we may be able to restore Warp Power within 14 days.”

Captain Norman massaged the bridge of his nose at this point and let out a great sigh.

“Which brings me to our most immediate problem. Notwithstanding extensive damage to our ship and systems, our casualties to date or even the effects of the Anomaly itself (manifold & nightmarish as they are indeed). Are main problem being food, or to be precise - lack thereof.”

“My Executive Officer, Frank Micheal’s, completed an inventory of our remained consumables as asked. The news is not good. Even with the quarter rations we have been barely surviving on for weeks now – Commander Micheal reports that we barely have enough food to feed what crew remains for another four days. We will have to tighten our belts even further if we are to achieve Chief Rutherford’s deadline and ever escape this accursed place.”

The recording was cut out at this juncture and T’Vran raised an eyebrow to the TTH, who grunted.

“It’s a tough deal, for sure.” The Master Chief allowed tightly.

Lieutenant T’Vran was forced to agree, and she started the second log that could be recovered.

If the Captain Ed Norman from the first recording looked like a paradigm of misery, the man that sat before the camera now – looked like a man that had sailed through hell itself. The background lighting kept on fluctuating intermittently – giving the recording a nightmarish aspect.

“Captain’s Log. Stardate 2291.7.12.” Captain Norman’s voice was tinged with heavy regret and a touch of hysteria even.

“It’s all falling apart and it’s all my fault.” Edward Norman confessed, wringing his hands unconsciously. The man now looked far worse physically – the effects of malnutrition and sickness apparent on his gaunt face.

“The Engine repairs ended in disaster. The long hours, the lack of sleep – the endless longing for food. Someone must have made a mistake, forgot a process check or to ensure that a safety protocol was in place. Whatever the cause, I cannot blame my crew. It was my own blind idealism that brought us to this place. The blame lies with me alone. When we tried to bring the Warp – Reactor online – there was a catastrophic cascade - failure and loss of containment of plasma in the Starboard Nacelle. It’s gone……just gone, and with it our hopes of ever leaving this place. Annie says I mustn’t blame myself – but how can I not? I am the Captain and the fates of these people is in my hands.”

Edward Norman brushed regretful tears from his eye as he tried to maintain composure and record the fate of his ship and crew for whatever posterity they could hope for – lost in this place of damned souls.

“With the destruction of the nacelle, morale began to suffer almost immediately and then completely break down. I had hoped that my XO would be a rock in these times, but I’m certain that Commander Micheal’s blames me for our predicament. Frank Micheal’s and I could always see eye to eye on most issues – but now he won’t even speak to me. Dr Lucan continues to mediate, but the chain of command is becoming more and more fragmented with every passing day.”

“Following the deaths during the incident with the Nacelle, our list of survivors had diminished to only Eighty – three souls. That was until Petty Office Clarke, mad with starvation, convinced some thirty or so of his comrades from the Lower – Decks to mutiny and seize what last supplies of comestibles we had and flee in the Escape Pods. Dr Lucan tried to reason with them, but the hunger had made beast of them all. Poor Cassie Lucan, ever the peacemaker, was struck down and passed away that night. At least Cass’ is now at peace and free from this nightmare. Clarke and his followers must surely all have perished – it was pure folly to entrust their souls to the Pods. They must have become their fragile coffins, and I am ashamed to say that for them (at least) I do not mourn their loss.”

Lieutenant T’Vran looked down at the corpse of Captain Edward Norman and wondered at the stresses the man must have been under in his final hours.

To be the Captain of any starship was to shoulder an inevitable burden. T’Vran looked to the body on the couch, unquestionably that of Annie Norman – the Captain’s daughter, noting the tenderness of her final arrangement and felt an admiration that Captain Norman had managed to hold on to his humanity in the face of such insurmountable odds.

She played the final recording.

Captain Edward Norman looked near death and like death himself. Physically he was painfully thin, his skin grey and waxen – even in the scant light of the emergency lantern that gave the Ready Room its only source of light and heat. When he spoke – it was as one who is resigned to the inevitability of death and cannot quite wait for it to claim him.

“Captain’s Log. Stardate….. it really doesn’t matter anymore…..this will be my last log entry...”

In the background of the recording a steady, muted thumping sound could be heard – causing Captain Norman to occasionally look away from the camera – as if annoyed to be so distracted.

“It began with Frank Micheal’s asking, ‘The Delicate Question’ in the mess – hall six days ago……” Captain Norman began in a cracking voice.

T’Vran’s attention was interrupted by a transmission from Chief Manningly, she temporarily paused the recording.

“Savannah to Away Team, I’m taking the recording off speakers.” Talbot Manningly’s voice was grim and purposeful.

“Is there a problem Chief?” The XO frowned, not following.

Before the USS Savannah’s Chief of the Boat (an indentured scholar of naval history) could reply, the TTH spoke for him.
“He’s talking about the ‘Custom of the Sea.’” Master Chief Isagi Saroga replied grimly.

“I am unfamiliar with this ‘Custom’, Savannah – would you kindly qualify its relevance to these events being recounted?” T’Vran asked.

There was a pause and then Chief Manningly explained.

“Ma’am the “custom of the sea”, which was also known as "the delicate question" or "the proper tradition of the sea", specified that in case of disaster, when there was not enough food for the survivors, corpses could be eaten. If there were no bodies available for consumption, lots were drawn to determine who would be sacrificed to provide food for the others.” Talbot’s tone was tinged with regret. “It would appear that some members of the USS Subic Bay’s crew resorted to the drawing of lots to decide who would be killed and eaten so that the others might survive.”

The frozen air of the ready room was pregnant with the implications, but T’Vran simply responded.

“Thank you Chief – I concur that it would not be constructive for the young crew of the USS Savannah to learn of this development.”

“Aye Ma’am.” The Chief responded and closed the comm-channel.

Lieutenant Commander looked to the mortal remains of Captain Edward Norman and then to those of his daughter Annie Norman on the couch. It was evident that it was a father’s last defiant act to ensure that the mob, that was once his former crewmates, did not get the opportunity to breach the last redoubt of the Ready Room – to use the flesh of himself or his loved one thusly.

“Master Chief.” T’Vran commanded, “Nothing more constructive will be achieved from the continued review of these logs. I propose that we find a way down into the remains of the Engineering – hull by means of our own recognizance.”

The TTH nodded curtly, his neat moustache twitching just once.

“Hmmf. Agreed.”

 2024-06-25 11:19:28
Callen Varro 2063

https://bravofleet.com/story/123407

 2024-06-19 21:31:06
Noli Auru 18

https://bravofleet.com/story/122448 - Vadlox, with A Vengeance

 2024-06-19 09:06:54
Brodie Lewis 2208

https://bravofleet.com/story/122971/

 2024-06-17 18:25:36
Edwin Wagner 2468

https://bravofleet.com/story/122985

 2024-06-17 17:52:56
Nathan Hawthorne 2199

Captain Lost: https://bravofleet.com/story/122735

 2024-06-16 06:34:03

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