Ep 1 - The Searchers

The USS Perseverance begins the next chapter with a new command team, and a new mission to search, seek, explore, and discover.

TS 001 – Border Search

USS Perseverance - Near the Tholian Border
10.17.2401

“Approaching intercept waypoint.  Disengaging warp.”  The borrowed helm officer announced as the USS Perseverance thundered down to impulse power near the Federation – Tholian border.  Commander Park sat at the science station, orienting the sensors across a wide swath of the sector.

Captain Wren Walton sat in the center seat, her eyes on the main viewscreen.  She turned to their newly borrowed diplomatic attache, Grace Albright, “It’s your game now, lieutenant.”

Grace sat in the left seat and had been working on her PADD since they’d left Montana Station four hours previous.  Her head snapped up, “Let’s start with the basics – full shot and long-range sensor sweeps – helm – put us on a parallel course with the last updated Tholian boundary – half impulse.”  The officer at the controls swung the Pathfinder class into the requested course while Park worked at the science station.  “Commander Park?”

The XO turned science officer tapped cautiously at the console, the screen shifting as she adjusted the sensors and read the reports manually. The lack of a science team was going to make this more challenging.  “Signal is stronger – locking in position.”  A beep and a blinking dot appeared, “The signal is coming from…on the border.  Right in the middle.”  She adjusted the main viewer to show the details.

Wren drummed her fingers on the chair, “Damned peculiar – the Tholians are pretty good about keeping their side of space clear as far as I know.  We don’t often have to play goalkeeper or referee when it comes to it.” She asked Albright, “You ever meet a Tholian, lieutenant?”

Grace continued working on her PADD and the console beside her chair, “We got lucky ten years ago.  I was working with a border mapping team…and we ran into a planet about five hours away from it.  It had been scanned a year before with nothing.  We scanned and found a Tholian life sign.”  She tapped at the PADD, frowning as she adjusted the information she sent to Park, “He was old. Dying.  He’d fled and been shot at – crashed into the planet.  They must have thought they’d killed him.”  Another tap at her console, “He didn’t have a lot of time to live…told us what he could as his body fell apart…his ship was pretty stripped down.  He told us he was a pariah among his people, or at least that’s what the translator said.  He’d finally decided to live on his own terms…or something.  We notified the Tholians of what we’d found.”  She zeroed in a frequency in the scans, “All they said back was, ‘burn.’  I’ve encountered them over subspace communication since then – but it’s only bits and pieces…and usually thick with threats.”

Wren glanced at the screen, “What did he tell you?”

“He told us there were others like him – not many..but they existed.  That we should keep our eyes on the border. It was the start of the plan for Montana Station.  It took us ten years to get it done.  Commander, can you run a deep imaging scan here and here?”

Park translated the coordinates to her sensors, frowning as she reworked the scanning matrix, “That’s…Captain – that’s the start of a…platform of some kind?”  She adjusted it more and translated it to the screen, “At least that’s what it looks like to me.”

The few eyes on the bridge examined the display.  Walton stood from her chair and walked closer to the viewscreen, standing just behind the helm officer, “Well, I’ll be damned.  It looks pretty small.  Park, can you approximate a schematic from what we have so far?”

She queried the computer about the construction, and it replied with several image scenarios: “Given what we know, estimates are anywhere from 4 decks to 7. It doesn’t seem to have the capacity for more.”

Wren wondered what the Tholians were up to.  Were they trying to test them?  Tempt them?  Or just play with them?  She asked Albright, “So, they’re building their own station?”

Grace wasn’t sure. “Its placement is intentional—right on their side of the border. If they meant to threaten or act against us…they’d have done the deed. This might be their version of a proportional response.  We built a station hours from the border, and they built one right on it.  It doesn’t look like it will be active anytime soon – they’re taking their time building it.”

Park said, “As far as I or the computer can tell – the weapons configuration of the station would be minimal.”

Silence was held on the bridge as each reviewed the sensor data and information. Wren leaned forward in the center chair, “Park—transmit all data back to Montana Station. Get us a secure encrypted channel with Command Operations. Albright? You think we should try talking to them? Will they answer?”

Grace went from her PADD to the console and back again, “Stranger things have happened, captain.  Whatever they’re building is new, even as small as it is.”

Wren sat back in her chair.  It felt good to be back in command of something that mattered.  She lamented that the other side of that coin was that whatever you did mattered too.  “Hail the construction on standard frequencies with friendship and cooperative messaging.  Let’s see if anybody is home.”
 

TS 002 – 72 Hours Later

USS Perseverance - Near the Tholian Border
10.20.2401

“And that’s just the big stuff.” Commander Park finished running down her report to her captain.  She sat at the science console while Wren Walton stood beside her, reading the details on her PADD.

Wren scrolled, “Plenty of odds and ends in this mix – a few newborn nebulas.”  She blew out a long sigh, “And our new friends?”

Park returned the sigh, “Long-range sensors show some activity around the small station construction.  Nothing much has changed.  We’ll need to return to the area to get short-range readings.”  Her console beeped a light alarm, “New signal…on our side of the border.”  Park tapped at the console to focus the sensors, “It’s exactly like the signal we detected before – this time, it’s aimed at us and not Montana Station.”

Walton turned to examine the screen. “Where is it coming from?”  The signal’s frequency and strength intrigued her. “Is that signal able to be detected from the Tholian side?”  Park confirmed it wasn’t – unless they were looking for it.  “Well, then, let’s see what we’ve got.  Helm, engage an intercept course.”  The Perseverance changed direction.  “Lieutenant Albright?”

Grace was working on her console in the left-hand command seat. “It’s unusual. Whatever it is, it’s doing everything to get our attention while hiding from the Tholian side. It could be a trap, a message, or a Tholian in hiding.”  She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise slightly, “It’s possible that they used the construction as a cover to escape to our side.”

Wren returned to the center chair, “The message from your old Tholian was that there were more behind the lines.  We’re going to be cautious.  Is the signal far enough away from the border for us to intercede without consequence?”

Albright toggled the display on the viewscreen, “It’s not in the current disputed zone, but the Tholians are known for moving lines depending on their mood, the day, and whatever suits them.”  She’d studied them extensively, yet she wasn’t sure what game they were playing.  Or who was playing it?  “Tholian envoys are few and far between. You would have better luck sitting down with one of the Ferengi traders.”

The CO winced.  They were her least favorite species to try and negotiate with over anything.  “When it comes to luck and dealing with the Ferengi, especially about Tholians – that is a slippery-sliding scale.  I don’t suppose you have any of them to call in if this situation gets complicated.”

“A few.  One or two might still talk to me.”

“Reach out.  Helm – time to intercept?”

 

A half-hour later, the Pathfinder class starship dropped from warp speed and slid into the sector.  Wren had remained in the center chair, reviewing the updated sensor reports as they grew closer.  She turned to her XO, “Is that…some kind of capsule?”

Park’s concerns about what was waiting for them had grown. “A single occupant capsule of some kind – I’m getting faint life sign readings.  Unknown species – sensors are having trouble getting beneath the surface of that thing.”

Wren tapped the console on the arms of her chair, adjusting the camera to zoom in. It was a long, circular, worn capsule with no identifying marks.  “Albright, send a message across the border – broadcast wide and far. Inform them of our discovery and gently ask them if they want it back.”  

Park turned in her chair, and Wren could feel her eyes boring into her. “Captain?” the tone was concerned.

Wren faced her XO and interim science chief: “Tholians are notorious for how they respond to border offenses, incursions, and anything related. I just got the Perseverance—I don’t want to lose this chair because I upset an alien species. Keep scanning, keep checking, and keep an eye out.”  She turned her chair back to face the front of the bridge, her mind swirling with the possibilities.  It could be a test by the Tholians to see how the Federation would respond with their new shiny station and newly organized squadron.  Fontana was well known in some circles but not in the rimward ends of Federation space.  As good as the Tholian’s spy systems were purported to be, they might need to fill in some blanks.  That last thought chilled her.  If this was just some twisted exercise to run them through the gauntlet, there was far more riding on this than she had initially considered.  “Albright?”

Grace’s hands worked the console as she continued to transmit: “No response. The construction site is receiving our transmission. There is a powerful transmitter unit attached to that thing—it’s as good as or better than what we have onboard.  They’re listening, but they’re just letting it ring.”

Walton groused, “Any other species, we’d be talking by now.  The Klingons would want their thing back – they’d be furious it had escaped.  Romulans would be accusing us of attempting to steal or spy with it. Andorians would say it was our fault it ended up there in the first place.  Vulcans…well, they wouldn’t have lost the capsule.”  She leaned forward, elbows on her legs, “But the Tholians…they just ignore us.  Park – vitals still reading stable?”

The XO wasn’t worried—yet. She reported, “The computer says stable—the readings identify a living thing still alive. What it is, its real condition or anything more is hidden beneath some pretty heavy shielded material.”

Wren was worried.  “Plenty of this smacks of intentionality.  Park – get me a priority one encrypted channel with Montana Station.”

Fleet Captain Fontana’s face filled the screen. He was in the command center. “You want my permission to take it into your cargo bay…give it a once-over?”  His face remained unreadable.

“That would be ideal, sir.  There are no lines to read between out here when no one’s writing back to us. Plenty of risk that’ll follow any decision we make.”  She accepted a PADD from Park, “Vitals are trending downward – but the vitals could be the readings of a ship battery versus a cardiovascular system.  All the power of a Pathfinder class and the Tholians outsmart us in one move.”  She was annoyed.  If whatever was in there died, the Tholians could blame them for ignoring someone who needed help.  The variables of the scenario varied wildly.

Geronimo asked, “You’ve got the view on site.  What’s your gut tell you, captain?”

Wren wrestled with a few competing thoughts and landed on, “They’re ignoring us, waiting for us to make the first move.  It’s a test – to see our response and then respond accordingly.  I don’t like being played with, sir, but I think if we’re going to get anything going with the Tholians, we’ll have to step onto the field…and do something.”

His eyes stared back at her.  She knew this was a risk for them both.  He was a newly promoted Fleet Captain in charge of a large station.  She was on a journey to repair her reputation and record.  She waited until she heard his sigh, “Damn it.  Send one more message. Give it thirty minutes.  Then bring it on board. Stay onsite as you do your investigation on the unit.  Updates every five minutes – no matter what.”  She could see him shaking his head, “I’m putting Douglas and Dragonfly on standby orders – they’ll be ready to ride if things get hot.”

She didn’t fight the support.  The Perseverance was a strong starship in most scenarios.  This wasn’t most scenarios.  “Understood and confirmed, sir.”  The channel closed, and she stood, turning to the sparsely populated bridge, “Albright, let’s do the standard hail and wait.  Park  – gather what spare crew we have. Have them report to the shuttle bay.  We’ve got thirty minutes to prepare for whatever the next move is on this tilt a whirl of a Tholian chessboard.”

TS 003 – The Capsule

USS Perseverance - Near the Tholian Border
10.20.2401

The capsule sat on the shuttle bay floor, protected by a level ten forcefield.  The room had been locked under quarantine procedures, and Commander Park stood in a level ten protective suit, staring at the unassuming capsule that remained a mystery.  Behind the thick protective glass stood Captain Wren Walton and Lieutenant Grace Albright.  They had waited forty-five minutes, fifteen more than the thirty Fontana had ordered.    She tapped at the glass, activating the communication channel, “Commander, go ahead and do your walk around.  We’ll run some tests on what’s within the forcefield.”

Park shuffled her booted feet awkwardly.  Part of her was fascinated with whatever this was.  And yet…the other part of her was uneasy.  Was it a lifeboat?  Or was it a bomb that, once they brought it onboard, was going to rip them apart in a fiery explosion?  She knew the strength of the forcefield.  Her mind worried about the strength of whatever was inside the capsule.  She gritted her teeth, “Starting my walk around.”  She clicked the body camera’s power on and slowly traversed the distance around it, her eyes searching the smooth exterior for any clue.  She narrated, “Initial observations on the nature of the unit – I don’t see any sections or evidence that there’s more than one piece to it.  A low hum of midrange harmonics is coming off the alloy, but it’s not offensive or causing any damage or harm.” She knelt on the ground, searching, “Whatever propulsion exists, it’s keeping it upright – no landing gear or support struts are visible.  That might be what the hum is.”  She stood and continued her circle, “I can see faint carvings in various places of the shell, but at this range, I can’t visibly get details.  Note to pull the footage from the camera.”  A few minutes later, she arrived back where she had started.  She tapped the camera to transmit the video and photos to the central computer, “I can’t see any kind of console or keys to interact with – if we’re going to find a way in, we’re going to have to put our hands on it at some point.”

Walton’s voice replied in her earpiece, “We agree. Come on back – those photos might help.”

 

“That’s…written Tholian?”  Park was dumbstruck.

Grace was at the console, working on the translation, “We know of at least one written language, but there’s been a persistent rumor of a second.  There’s an entire Linguistic Department devoted to scraping together the proof.  They’ve been at it for a few years.”  She paused as she focused on certain parts of the inscriptions, then compared them to the known texts that had been gathered.  “This section is…some kind of warning.  ‘Warning.  Within lies The Cursed Child’…there’s an additional name.  It’ll take some time to find an approximate translation.”  Grace moved on to the other sections.

Park turned to her CO, “I don’t know if this is the test you think it is.  Either they’re throwing away someone they don’t value enough to keep…or they’re trying to pass a curse onto us that even they can’t handle.”  She turned back as Albright continued.

“More warnings. ‘This casket contains…something something…unholy and unclean’.  Some more naming…this is interesting – a planet name?”  She zoomed in, “It reads as ‘JaKaRes.’  That’s not on our list of possible planet names.”

Walton glanced out of the office at the monolithic capsule in the shuttle bay.  She wondered, “Are we dealing with something that scares the Tholians?”

Grace scrolled through the images, “Whatever is in there, they don’t want any part of it.  Usually, in their written language, it’s clear and direct – what they want, how they want it.  Tholians are not subtle…ever.  I don’t think the word is in our understanding of their dictionary.”

For her part, Park grimaced, “I’ve seen the old Earth movies about mummies and ghosts.  Those were unsettling enough on principle…but a haunted Tholian creature?  They’re hard enough to figure out and fight on an average day.  I was concerned about sending it back to them at first…but knowing what we know now…can we just…send it back?”

Wren wished that were possible.  “No going back – we’re in it now.  If whoever’s in there is still alive, we owe it to them to keep them alive – haunted mummy or not.  Park, work with operations to install and prepare the intensive scanning equipment in the shuttle bay.  I know.  I’m not any less thrilled.  Albright – update Montana Station…any luck finding a friendly Ferengi with Tholian experience?”

Grace tapped at the console, and a dossier faded into view, “Hoksta.  Veteran trader who’s made a business of decades of work with the Tholians.  He’s willing to talk, but I don’t know if I would define him as friendly.  He’s not a fan of Starfleet or the Federation as a whole.  A lot of history.”

Walton grinned slyly, “Then it’s a good thing I’ve got you, Diplomatic Attaché Albright.  You’ll be my carer.”

Albright frowned, “Carer?”

Park filled in the missing context: “Her carer—you care, so she doesn’t have to.”

Wren headed for the door, “Come along, Diplomatic Attaché Albright – let’s get ready for Hoksta.”

Grace stood and turned to Park, “She like this all the time?”

The XO smiled widely, “Welcome aboard the Perseverance.”
 

TS 004 – Hoksta in the House

USS Perseverance - Near the Tholian Border
10.20.2401

“I don’t trust hoomans.”  Hoksta walked behind Captain Wren Walton with Lieutenant Grace Albright at his side.  “I know you only by reputation, Hooman Walton.”

Wren forced down a chuckle, “Is that good or bad?”  They turned a corner in the corridor to the shuttle bay.  Hoksta’s ship had arrived a half hour earlier.  He appeared like an older Ferengi, but he walked as if he was still a young man.

“There is a reason why I prefer the rimward end of hooman space. Less of you to worry about. Tholians and The Children of Tama are better at treating me well than your people.  And more profitable.”  He turned his attention to Albright, “That I am the one you called speaks for how much trouble you must be in.”

Walton stopped the group just before the final turn toward the shuttle bay. “You don’t have to like us, Hoksta. You can hate on the humans all you like and want—I’m sure you have your reasons.”

He waited a beat for her to continue.  When she didn’t, he asked, “Was there a question or request in there, hooman Walton?  I must have missed it.”

She tempered her nerves, “You are the only one around who’s not several weeks or more out who can give us a better idea of what we’re looking at and what we need to know.  We need your help.”

Hoksta turned to Albright, “Standard compensation, hooman Albright.”

She sighed and handed a PADD to Walton, who read the agreement and scoffed loudly, “You…cannot be serious.  This is excessive pricing, even for a Ferengi.”

He looked to both of them, eyebrows waggling as much as a Ferengi could, “Supply and demand.  Hooman Albright is used to my terms.  I am not cheap.  I’ve never been cheap.  I’ll never be cheap.”  He crossed his thick arms and shrugged, “You hoomans can always try your luck with whoever is on the next lowest deck below me…but I’ll warn you – you get what you pay for around here.”

Wren tossed the PADD back to Albright. “Payment on delivery of information.”  Hoksta shrugged his indifference. He was getting paid no matter what. She walked them around the corner and led the Ferengi to the glass viewing area. His eyes widened, and Wren handed him a PADD with the enhanced photos. “You seem surprised, Hoksta.”

His eyes widened further as he scrolled through the enhanced images. “That’s not a gift if that’s what you think it is.  That…that is something not even I would traffic in – no matter how much you paid me.”

It was Albright’s turn to scoff, “A Ferengi who won’t take money for a deal?  You’re the king of the hucksters, Hoksta.”  She was amused as he squinted his eyes at hearing the word and the worked to interpret the meaning.

He found it quickly, “I resent the implication.  I only traffic the highest quality materials and objects.  That,” he pointed with his gnarled fingers, “is a dark object with a dark history.”

Walton frowned, “You’re saying the Tholians believe in the supernatural?”

Hoksta replied, “The Tholians I’ve built my empire with, yes.  I haven’t been able to make much progress with the others.  As hooman Albright knows, the caste system is rigid and unyielding.  Thirty years ago, I found one of the lower groups willing to engage in business with me.  They’re on the far edges of the Assembly.  We’ve built a strong connection.  I’ve tried to break into the others.”

Wren shook her head in disbelief, “You are more an operative than a trader, Hoksta.  How did those attempts go?”

He scowled and grumbled at her, “Don’t dirty my name with such sullied language, hooman Walton.  I always pursue profit.  Always.  I have no interest in the…what do you hoomans call it – the game playing?”

Albright couldn’t hold back a smile, “It’s called playing the game, Hoksta.  We call it Intelligence.”

His scowl remained, “Whatever you hoomans call it, I don’t do it.  I respect the Tholians too much to attempt such a ridiculous venture.  As for what you’ve got in your shuttle bay…,”  he shook his head, “That’s a relic, or at least what they tell me is a relic.  Even after all this time, their language is hard to grasp.  As far as I know, many of those are floating around Tholian space – different caste groups possess them for various reasons.  Most of them are held in a tight grip as these relics have some benefit to them.”

Wren made her assumption known, “Most have some benefit.  I’m guessing this isn’t one of them.”

“Correct, hooman Walton.  Some of these are perceived to have a negative effect or even a curse.  You might use it to threaten another caste or a group within a caste.  Keep them in line or force them to do something lest they invoke the curse upon them and their fellow Tholians.”

The CO gestured to the photos on the PADD, “So, what do you know about this artifact?”

Hoksta returned to studying the photos as he spoke, “There is a legend…or a story about ‘The Cursed Child.’  This is one of the imperfect children born on the planet JaKaRes – where the cursed children were created and born against the will of many of the higher castes.  These children had qualities that made them unbecoming of a true Tholian.  That threatened the very foundation of their species.  At least, that’s how the story goes.  You know how these tales go – they get told enough, and eventually, the truth is thrown out in favor of something more exciting and thrilling.”

Walton wondered, “I don’t suppose they said what those qualities were?”

He laughed, “Getting them to reveal that much of their stories has taken most of the thirty years.  This caste group has been more willing to share over the last ten years.  I suspect they’ve become tired of those above them and no longer care about protecting the Assembly.  It has made me more profitable, so I do not argue.”

Albright was taking copious notes on her PADD and glanced up, nervous for Hoksta, “You don’t think they’ll eventually get caught?”

“The mysteries of the Tholian Assembly and its daily, inner, and overall workings remain a mystery to even me, hooman Albright.  I make money from their wares, and they allow me to travel in their space.  As the hooman expression used to go, I do not look a gift horse in the mouth.  I take what I can get.  Which is profit, in case you were wondering.”

Wren tapped her code into the PADD, transferring the payment to Hoksta.  “I admit…you earned it.  What do we do with the thing?”  Her attention had returned to the capsule.

Hoksta’s smile was wide as he verified that the payment had come through. “You shouldn’t keep it here, so close to the border. The Tholians are bound to wonder why you’ve not taken it away, given that I’ve been here. They’ll expect you to act with the information I provided. I would find an abandoned planet somewhere and open it. I don’t honestly know what is in there, and I wouldn’t want anything nearby to be harmed.  I’d like to keep making money off you hoomans – on your ships or station.”

Wren watched Albright make the final note. She turned to Hoksta and said, “Thank you for your help.”  She couldn’t help but ask, “Why do you call us humans with our names attached? No ranks…nothing.”

His eyes turned serious as he packed up his things, “Ask Albright.  I grew tired of telling the story.”  With that, he stalked down the hallway and around the corner.

Walton turned to her diplomatic attache, “And?”

Grace winced.  The story had been harrowing to hear when he’d related to her.  “Before he came out here to wander the rimward, he was a pretty good trader in Federation space.  He was building a solid client base.  Then he looked at someone in Starfleet Security wrong.  Upset the wrong blowhard.  They went to work on him and his family.  They found some mild irregularities.  Blew it up.  They took a year of his life processing the case.  He was treated terribly.  He was eventually cleared of all charges and exonerated on paper, but the damage had been done.  No one would trust him.  No one would speak to him.  His family disowned him, and he fled here to find his way.  Hoksta is a survivor…and his way to exact his revenge on the Federation and Starfleet is to strip us of our titles and call us humans.”

Wren grimaced, “I can understand that.  You think if we call him again, he’ll show up?”

“If we pay his going rate.  What do we do with…that?”  She pointed to the capsule.

“We take it to an abandoned planet and set up an archeological operation.”

Albright mused, “We’re gonna need a bigger group of scientists.”

“That is why a squadron exists.  I’ll make a call.  Find us a desolate planet.  We’ve got a mystery to solve.”

TS 005 – The Capsule Cometh

GH0993923
10.22.2401

“All hands, standby for landing operations.  Go to blue alert.”  Captain Wren Walton sat in the center command chair, seat belt activated.  They had found a planet that matched the needs of the capsule and, with the help of the Dragonfly, had been replenished with a full crew.  The lights on the bridge faded to a dark blue.  Across the eleven decks of the Pathfinder class, starship lights and corridor consoles were changed to reflect the status.  Wren had taken part in several landings – all on Intrepid class ships.  Her attention turned to the new face at the helm of the Perseverance, Lieutenant Griffin Maddy.  He’d come with a nickname, ‘Mad Dog’.

At OPS, Lieutenant Matthew Phillips reported that engineering had deactivated the warp and impulse engines, “Warp core entering standby mode and impulse reactors have reached stable operations.”  He had been transferred from Starbase Bravo.  His history had begun with Ambrose Harris on the Erigone.  She read between the lines on his dossier.  He was a good and capable officer.  She needed those kinds of people on her team.  She watched him recheck his console, saying, “All stations report ready for planetary landing operations, sir.”

Wren gripped the arms of the command chair lightly.  It was no small feat to land a Federation starship on a planet, and as easy as it seemed, it was full of risks.  “Lieutenant Maddy, engage landing operations.”  

Griffin bit back a smile.  The news of his assignment had been one of joy.  A Pathfinder class was an excellent ship…and a fast ship.  His disappointment had come when he’d read the name of the command team – Walton and Park.  He knew the CO by reputation – she had been a long-time fixer at Starfleet.  Her recent command streak had been unconventional, and he’d done some reading between the lines. As prestigious as the Perseverance was, it still struck him as odd.  She’d been in command of an Obena class and an Excelsior II class before that.  He wondered how you ended up with a dinky ship like this.  He tapped at the console, shifting the ship towards the planet, “Maneuvering thrusters activated.  Course plotted.  Engaging now.”

The Perseverance slowly dove towards the planet and plunged into the atmosphere.  The inertial dampeners were at maximum as Lieutenant Maddy navigated the conditions outside the ship.  The turbulent nature of the planet’s scorching weather systems made for a chaotic upper atmosphere, and the ship shook and shuddered as it buffeted against the forces of nature.  Maddy reported, “Thirty seconds to the lower atmosphere!”  The bridge bounced as the ship traversed a rough jetstream path, but everyone’s seatbelts held.  Suddenly, the rocking slowed.  “Entering lower atmosphere – activating thrusters.  Engaging landing supports.”  The ship slowed until a gentle thump, and the bridge shuddered for one last time.  “Landing complete, sir.”

Walton stood, “Damage report.  Give Lieutenant Wallaker and her team the green light to move.”

 

The ramp dropped from the underside, and Lieutenant Hazel Wallaker walked down the incline, escorting the capsule floating on an antigrav cart.  A gaggle of the freshly assigned science team followed in her wake and was escorted by a group of security officers.  They were all wearing environmental suits as the dust-filled environment’s temperature would have sent them crashing to the ground and exfoliated to the extreme.  “Let’s move!”  She marched forward, leading the team on.  The assignment to the aptly named Perseverance had come at the right time.  She’d been stifled on her assignment to a backwater station.  The number of scientific discoveries she had had the possibility of discovering there had been slim to none.  It had been a long year, and her nerves had nearly reached a breaking point.  The list of applications had been updated, and near the bottom was the Pathfinder class starship.  Hazel wondered if the station had thrown a party once she’d been transported away.  They had been a close-knit group for years.  Her arrival hadn’t been smooth, and the more time she spent working with them, the more she realized she’d made the wrong decision to take a risk in applying to the station.  Now, she had a chance.  A place to explore.  To discover.

In the group’s rear walked sixty-year-old Commander Sergio Clemente, the Chief Medical officer. He had studied the Wallaker dossier and shared concerns with Captain Wren Walton.  She was spunky and energetic.  He noted that before the assignment to the station, she had bounced around the fleet from assignment to assignment.  Some three months, others six months.  Nothing longer than a year.  Until the station.  Walton had shared his theory that that assignment had been a subtle attempt to calm or punish her.  He remembered the look on her face as they’d talked.  It was a look of disappointment.  He turned his attention back to the scene in front of him.  The planet had been labeled GH0993923, and the system was marked as ‘GH09’.  The system had three suns unbearably close to the planet they now walked.  It had never recorded an instance of life.

The voice of their newly minted Chief Science Officer broke through his thoughts, “We’re reaching the area.  Start the setup.”

Clemente ordered his team to shift back, and they began to install the medical triage tent.  He was a strict rules and regulations doctor.  He wasn’t about to leave lives hanging in the balance or to the chances of the desert that surrounded them.

It took an hour, but it was done. The capsule had been placed, and scaffolding had been added around it, replete with instruments, sensors, and scanners.  Wallaker trudged back the forty feet to the shelter they had built and secured the door behind her.  With a gasp, she removed the helmet and set it on a shelf with the others.  The bunker had a secured environmental system, and it brought them all relief.  “Ensign, let’s get started.”  She stepped to the console and began to tap at the commands, “Link with Perseverance is active, scaffold equipment reporting across the spectrum…engaging opening procedure.”  The various video links clicked into gear as the multiple displays in the bunker flickered to show the site.  The various robotic units performed their programmed actions to engage the opening console on the capsule’s exterior.  Ten minutes passed as multiple attempts were made and failed.  Wallaker worked the console in concert with the scanning data, “I think we’ve got it.  Ensign, lock on, and engage this area of the surface.” They all watched as the area was approached and touched.  There was a rushing of dust as the object began to tremble.  The ensign quickly retreated the mobile equipment as the rest of the gathered watch on the monitors.  A burst of steam blasted open a long, wide panel and a brief curling of smoke clouded the monitors.  The air soon cleared, and Wallaker and the rest of them gasped.

A body lay in gentle repose.

A humanoid body.

TS 006 – Aftermath

GH0993923
10.22.2401

They scrambled to the helmets and ran towards the body, shouting commands and reports into various channels. The medical tent sprung into action and hustled an isolation bed across the dusty ground to the gathered group. Within sixty seconds, the body was secured and protected from the effects of the dry-as-a-bone planet.  Lieutenant Hazel Wallaker breathed a sigh of relief and tapped the communications link on her arm, “Captain, body is secured.  Initial scans are inconclusive – we will need a more extensive facility than the Perseverance offers.”

Wren Walton’s voice replied, “Understood – Commander Clemente, secure the body in sickbay at the highest quarantine level.  Lieutenant, you will need to initiate an examination of the capsule on the planet. Chief Carlson is on his way.”

Hazel held back her annoyance, replying that she understood, and the channel closed.  Lieutenant Bernard Carlson has been among the crew members who recently flooded Perseverance, and his reputation preceded him in so many ways.  Her read of his dossier had started as kind and ended with frustration.  The ship was turning into an island for the lost and broken toys of the Fourth Fleet.  The medical team shuffled off while the operations team dismantled the bunker.  She stomped over to the capsule and began to take readings.  

Ten minutes later, “You did not wait.”

Carlson’s blank face stared back at her as she turned to face him.  “I wasn’t going to sit idly by and miss usable data from this thing.  You could have transported over here.”  She turned around and continued to work inch by inch with her tricorder and scanning sensors.

“I try to avoid them, Lieutenant Wallaker.  Shall I start on the other side?  I brought additional scanning equipment.”  His voice remained neutral, and she began to understand why some had called him more Vulcan than Human.  She gestured toward the opposite slide of the capsule, and she heard him shuffle over and begin scanning.

Hazel continued down, her frown creasing and then deepening. With the device’s contents exposed, it was becoming clear about its age. She tapped at the communications channel, “Captain, this capsule is over 500 years old. Latent biological readings estimate the age of the comparable DNA to be in the range of 300 to 400 years old.”

Carlson said from his side, “This is a highly irregular capsule, Captain Walton.  It was engineered for a single purpose – to preserve whatever was inside.  The inner workings of this creation are a wonder – I would like to take it with us to study it further.”

“Lieutenant Carlson – if you can have it back in the shuttle bay under force field protection, I’m willing to take it with us.  Montana Station is clearing us a medical hall and I’ll get us a secure cargo bay.  Move as quickly and safely as you can.  Walton out.”

He walked around the front end of the capsule in awe of the container.  He briefly regarded Wallaker in silence before postulating, “You are not a patient officer, Lieutenant.”

Hazel stared back at him.  Her annoyance was becoming irritation.  She was not at her best when she was irritated.  Was he trying to push her buttons, or was this his famous default setting she had heard so much about?  She huffed, “In fairness, you are not the most thoughtful officer, Lieutenant.  The capsule is yours.  Good luck.”  She stalked off, leaving him to his work.

 

“Which one of them is going to kill the other first?”  Commander Park sat on one end of the couch in the ready room, sipping a chilled tea.  Her CO sat on the other end, sipping a spiced cider.

“Which ones?  We seem to have earned a regular rouges gallery of ready-made conflicts.  We’re still short a tactical security officer, never mind a counselor.  We’ll need a guest referee when they spin themselves up.”  She nodded to her XO, “Your primary on making the first steps to smooth the connections so nobody gets caught in an EPS short or something worse.”

Park wondered, “You think some of this was intentional?  Make the name of the ship mean something to the crew?  Beyond just you and me?”  She downed the drink, “Someone in the lower decks already suggested ‘crew of misfits’ or something like that.  Your past as a fixer might also be playing a part in this whole…whatever this is.”

Wren clicked her tongue in protest and quiet agreement, “They don’t forget, do they?  The good, the bad… and whatever else there is.”  She went for a refill, asking, “You ever hear the story of the Ugly Duckling?”

Park leaned forward on the couch, “You think we’re the ugly duckling? The unwanted?  That’s a pretty deep cut, Wren.”

She waved her friend’s seriousness away, “You need to relax. Not everything is a Grimm fairy tale.  Those things were unhinged.  Gave me nightmares.”  Another sip.  “No, my point is that we’re a rough group with rough edges.  Everyone seems to have a chip or two…or three on their shoulder.  What if our unofficial mission is to help our crew change into something greater than they’ve ever been?”

The XO cracked, “I’m not wearing a swan costume, Wren.”  They both laughed at the idea.

Wren brought them back to the topic: “I’m serious. What if Perseverance is the start of something incredible for this crew—the possibility of not just redemption but rebuilding?”

Park smiled, “You always were a hopeless optimist, Wren. You might be right.”  She stood and headed for the door. Oh, and one more thing—Perseverance is a lot to say. Crew has taken to calling her ‘Percy.’  You ok with that?”

Wren down her drink, “Given the other options they might have tried, I’ll take that one.”

Park chuckled as she headed through the door to the bridge, “Who says they didn’t?”  Her grin widened as Walton rolled her eyes.

TS 007 – What Are We?

On Route to Montana Station
10.22.2401

“I do not envy you, Commander Park.”  Chief Medical Officer Sergio Clemente verified the inventory from cabinet to cabinet in his sickbay.  Park was making her rounds to check in with department heads as the Perseverance returned to Montana Station.  She’d decided to start with Clemente.  They were both equally ranked, and his experience over his career was worth a listen or two.

“I’m not sure I envy myself, Doctor Clemente.”  She leaned against a biobed, watching him work.  She wasn’t sure how to ask her question.  She wasn’t sure if she should ask it, whatever it was.

He continued cataloging his inventory, shuffling and muttering as he tapped the PADD. A few minutes later, he turned to her, “You want me to tell you it’s going to be okay?”

She blinked in shock at the question.  Park replied, “I guess?  I don’t know what to ask…it just feels like I should ask…something.”

He paused in his work, “I never went above my station.  I’m happy as a Chief.  I have no desire to go into command.  My hands are best put to work in the healing and the health of whatever crew I am blessed to serve.”  He walked over and joined her against the bed.  “It’s been a year since you’ve had a new crew.  None of these people know each other, aside from whatever rumors and speculation they’ve trafficked since they came aboard Percy.  This isn’t the Mackenzie with a crew that’s been together, lived together, and grown together.  This crew is young, fresh, and full of hubris and arrogance.”  He turned, giving her some side-eye, “I seem to recall mention of some of this in your dossier in the past.”  She stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed, “They don’t know you, and you don’t know them.  I know them only by their medical charts.  We will all have to get to know each other through trial and error.”

Park shook her head at that, “Trial and error sounds vaguely like trial by combat.”

Clemente’s sly smile belied a story, “Relationships can feel like that…yet in the end, most are worth it.”

“Most, doctor?”

“A story for another time, Commander Park.”  His fading smile told her it was best to thank him and continue her duties.
 

“What are you?”  Lieutenant Hazel Wallaker stood in the medical observation room, staring at the humanoid body secured within the quarantine bed.  The scans began immediately upon its return to the Perseverance.  The answers had created more questions in their wake.  Hazel had the notes from the Ferengi trader’s discussion of what he knew of the capsule.  Her concerns were growing as she examined the various readings.  The DNA strands were coming back as Tholian…and something else. What the ‘something else’ was remained a mystery.

The door behind her slid open, and the XO, Commander Park, stepped through, walking up to stand beside the science chief, “We’re an hour out from Montana Station.  They’ve been briefed on the latest.”  She handed a PADD over, “They’re setting up separate areas for the body and the capsule to be examined.”  Park waited while Wallaker read the updates, “Albright hasn’t been able to get a response from the Tholians.  Hoksta, however, has agreed to meet us at the station.”

Hazel frowned and turned, “You don’t sound convinced, commander.  About Hoksta, I mean.”

Park stared at the body, wondering what secrets lay beneath the creature’s skin.  She grumbled, “Hoksta’s record is consistent – there’s always something else in the limited dealings with Starfleet.  Albright was blunt when she relayed his response – his interest in this may have changed as he heard more about it.  Profit and ingratiating himself with the Tholians is all he cares about, according to Albright.” The science chief held her breath and turned away from the XO. She hadn’t known her long enough to know how much she could share with the woman.  Her experience in the past had been less than stellar.  Park forced it with a, “You’ve got a terrible poker face, Lieutenant Wallaker, out with it.”

Hazel’s eyes went wide, and she fought to control what little control she had over her face.  She failed as Park’s side eye shifted, and the XO turned to face her.  Hazel replied, “Not your first holodeck rodeo, I take it, commander.”  A dry chuckle from the XO was her answer.  Hazel continued, “It’s not an issue of trust, ma’am.  I’ve not had a bad feeling about her…I’ve had issues with Diplomatic Operations in the past.”

Park mused, “We’re aware, Lieutenant Wallaker.  You do realize you experienced a compromised department in the lead-up to Frontier Day?  Any remnants of that infection were rinsed from the ranks…notwithstanding the solid idiots that manage to hold down a desk or two still.”

“You’re not subtle, commander.”

“Subtlety gets people killed, lieutenant.  I never learned how to dance, can’t throw a punch to save my life, and my written work is passable at best.  The one thing I do well – I don’t mess around, and subtly is not in my dictionary.”  She returned to the body, “Lieutenant Albright has her history and dealings with humans and aliens, just like you, me, and everybody else.  Captain Walton wouldn’t have let her step on this ship if she doubted her acumen, intent, or quality.”

Wallaker suddenly felt significantly safer in the hands of her commanding officers.  She had rarely seen behind the curtain regarding the CO and XO teams, and Park had just given her a full view with annotations and a commentary track.  “Thank you, ma’am.  That helps.”

Park chuckled, “Good.  You’re working point with Albright on the transition to the station team – they’re expecting a full briefing by both of you.  Once we arrive, it’ll take an hour to get things finalized on the transfer.  That means you have two hours.”

Hazel gulped at the XO’s expectant look as she finished her orders, “I suppose I should go find Lieutenant Albright then.”

“That would be best, Lieutenant Wallaker.”  The young woman skittered out the door, and Park returned her attention to the body.  She whispered, “What are you?”
 

TS 008 – Who We Are

USS Perseverance
10.25.2401

“You want to argue with a captain’s wife, you go right ahead.” Captain Wren Walton stood at her desk, staring at Lieutenant Hazel Wallaker. “He’s the nicer of the two. She’s less so and doesn’t suffer fools or anyone gladly.”

Hazel felt her frustration bubbling. She’d stormed into the ready room and spoken out of turn. That had earned her a stern warning from Commander Park, who sat on the couch, watching it all with concerned amusement. She’d used the wrong foot and found herself facing the two senior officers without as much as a point to argue. A severe look from Walton had preceded her direct suggestion to take on Theodora Walker-Halsey. “Captain…I just…permission to speak freely?”

Walton glanced at Park, and the XO chuckled dryly, “Given your performance on entering the ready room, Lieutenant…I can only hope this digs you out of the hole.” Walton waved her to continue.

“I found it. I deserved to at least witness the examination.” She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. Her face reddened as she realized she was throwing what was tantamount to a tantrum.

Wren stared at her, “Deserved or not, you were overruled. Science is not a game of who got there first. Science is about shared study, Lieutenant Wallaker. If nothing else, you should be poring over the data you collected from start to finish. There’s plenty to examine and forward onto Montana Station that might provide some insight they need.”

Wallaker’s face remained flushed. She chewed on her words. She’d stepped in it again. “I am sorry for my actions when I walked in here, sirs.” Hazel looked to both of them as she said it. “I’ll get to work on the data.” She remained at attention. She’d made the mistake in her previous positions, presuming she’d been dismissed. That hadn’t ended well.

Walton gave her a curt nod, “Dismissed, Lieutenant.” The young officer walked out the door and back onto the bridge. Wren turned to Park, “We’ve got a lot of work to do with this crew.”

Her XO leaned back on the couch, “You’re not the least bit upset that we got locked out?”

Wren returned to her seat behind her desk, “As I have reminded you on more than one occasion – ego and pride aren’t going to make us new friends in this squadron, Park. We’re here in our little misfit island for a reason. I’d like to keep those reasons out of their minds for the foreseeable future.”

Park shifted topics, “How will we get this crew to work together?”

Walton noticed the deflection but chose to grant her XO some mercy: “We try and do it as part of some program or process—they’re going to hate it and this assignment here even more.” She sat back in her chair, “Our base mission is working with Montana Station with science and exploration. We should get back to that.”

Park stood from the couch, “Back to basics. I’ll find us something to explore and examine. Plenty of things out here in the rimward end of Federation space.”

The door closed behind her, leaving Wren alone with her thoughts. She had a ship. She had a crew.

Now, all she needed was a mission.

TS 009 – Who’s Out There

USS Perseverance
11.01.2401

The morning shift was well underway as Lieutenant Hazel Wallaker worked through the sensor reports from the night crew. She noted the report format had improved, and the requested details had finally been included. Hazel finished reviewing the details and filed them away for later cataloging. Without warning, a series of beeps and alarms erupted from her console, startling her and the bridge crew.

In the center chair, Commander Park turned to face her, “Lieutenant, report?”

Hazel scrambled to ascertain what was happening, her hands tapping at her console. “Computer picked up a signal on long-range sensors. Preliminary identification is…Shepherd.” Her heart rate quickened as she started cross-referencing the data with their information on the species.

Park stood, “Shepherd?” Her science background knowledge kicked in as she walked to Wallaker’s station, “They’re rarer than the Tholians.”

“Correct, sir.” Hazel worked the computer, “They’re about a day away from us in the R320 system. Long-range sensors have them slowly moving…I can’t tell what they’re up to. The system has two nebulas and three planets, with one barely habitable.” She pulled up the latest system reports, “The last time someone went through there was last year – one nebula is disruptive and stormy while the other is fairly calm. Nebula one is labeled ST332, and the other is labeled C233. 332’s motion has been consistent while 233’s was cataloged as slow.”

Park searched the station’s screens for clues. “And there are no known colonies or populations on the planets?” Wallaker shook her head. “Helm—set a course and engage – maximum warp. Lieutenant Wallaker, you have the CONN.” She walked to the ready room and stepped through the door, PADD in hand.

Captain Wren Walton looked up from her console at her desk and accepted the offered PADD. “Shephards? That’s new.”

The XO slid into the chair opposite her CO, “I did a lot of work in the academy studying them. There have been sightings every few years in various quadrants and even fewer communications. It’s common practice to keep our distance. They have superior firepower and are not open to negotiation. Why they’re here – that’s the mystery worth investigating.”

Wren finished reading the report and background, “They’re on a mission from God.” She chuckled at Park’s smile. They’d been working their way through early Earth entertainment recently, and “The Blues Brothers” was a recent watch.

“Well, they’ll shoot holes in us in pursuit of their mission. They’ve got a perfect record with every alien species they’ve met up with. Looking at the system, my guess is they’re there because of one of the nebulas.”

Walton returned the PADD to her, “Shepards don’t show up without a purpose. The good news is that nothing is alive in the sector. The bad news is that they’re doing…something in that sector. Put Wallaker and her team on it. Keep an eye. We’ve avoided upsetting the Tholians…I’d like to keep that record in place with the Shephards.” Park stood at attention and returned to the bridge.

 

 

Wallaker downed her second cup of coffee as a new day began. They were minutes from R320. They had spent the waking hours and some of the sleeping hours doing what work they could to understand what had brought the Shephards to the rimward spaces of the Federation. The two nebulas had been studied in depth, and she wasn’t sure it was the more violent of the two that they were after. They had attempted to hail the Shepherds and had been met with no response.

Helm reported, “Dropping from warp speed…now.”

Park stood from her chair, “Lieutenant Wallaker.”

“The Shephard ship is at the far end of the system, detecting that they’ve launched what reads as possible probes at each nebula. Working to see if we can get data from them.” After a few minutes, she worked the sensors and had to surrender, “They’re smart – whatever those probes are detecting and transmitting – they’re heavily encrypted. It will take the computer a day or two to unlock the data.”

Park stared at the Shepard ship, small as it was on the screen, as it moved lazily at the edge of the screen. “We now know they’re looking at the nebulas.” She tapped her fingers against her leg, “Both nebulas move…and the Shepherds operate to protect the Arbiters of Life as they travel the systems.”

Wallaker spoke from her station, “We need to see if we can locate the remaining Arbiters of Life and track their positions.”

The XO replied, “There’s a theory out there that we don’t have a complete recording of them. The possibility exists that whatever they’re preparing this system for…it could be one of the unknowns.” She kept her eyes on the view screen, “Or their reason for being here is entirely unrelated to them. We only know so much about them.”

Wallaker saw movement on her screens and quickly reported, “Captain, Shepard’s ship is leaving the sector!” She quickly tasked the sensors with tracking the ship as far as possible, “Engaging tracking program.”

The helm officer turned, a question on his face. Park shook her head, “No, we do not pursue, Lieutenant Maddy. Lieutenant Wallaker – assemble your team. We need the list of the Arbiters of Life, the last known positions, and the tracked and predicted movement of the nebula in this sector. They were here for a reason. Let’s see if we can find out why.”