“Where all is dark and inscrutable, deception and delusion are easy, and hence augury of all kinds, omens, premonitions, divinations, have ever exercised a noticeable power over the human mind.”

John Gregorson Campbell (1836–1891)

Transit.

Transition.

The human mind can only take so much.

Captain Trevenan Williams was at once aware that he was seated in his customary position aboard the bridge of the USS Vega, as the pioneering Lamar – class long-range explorer made her passage through the confounding majesty of the Bajoran Wormhole, taking with her the Federation’s hopes of a new era of exploration and friendship to the people of the distant Gamma Quadrant.

But quite unquieting was the very visceral and compelling experience of being somewhere completely ‘elsewhere’’, inhabiting that same body but fully aware that he was engaged in some other activity in a wholly different location that was definitely not the bridge of his command.

In the absence of a familiar frame of reference, the biological processes of his brain clamored for context – some mammalian deep – rooted instinct to make the cognitive experience anchor itself in the commonplace and so, as Trevenan’s mind raced and reached out in abject shock it found the one totem guaranteed to resonate with himself.

Himself.

The CO of the USS Vega stared dumbfounded as his doppelgänger, a seemingly perfect simulacra of himself (right down to the crow’s feet crinkling at the edge of his eyes in amusement) smiled openly and spoke to him in his own familiar voice.

“Hello Trevenan.” His other spoke to him with a smile that feigned apology, but the tone of the voice that he knew so well told another story. “I’m sure that you are wondering what is going on?” his shade smiled blandly.

Trevenan Williams looked around him, the bridge of the Vega and the crew, that only moments before were engaged in guiding the craft through the perilous transit through the gateway in relative – space, were gone.

In their place Trevenan stood, facing this copy of himself, in a perfectly featureless white plane – void of any discernible detail in any direction and lit by a source of light similarly disembodied.

The USS Vega was gone.

Yet, confoundingly, part of him was still aware that the ship was exactly where it had been just moments ago and that he was still sat in the “Big Chair”. This disconnect was jarring and he felt queasy and lightheaded in both realities as his mind attempted to find equilibrium between the competing sensations.

His other just stood before him, hands slack at the sides of ‘his’ body, as if whatever rode this golem that wore his face was unfamiliar with the nuance of human body – language.

Trevenan’s mind raced.

Was this some sort of hallucination? Had he suffered some sort of medical episode (a stroke perhaps?). Worse yet, was this nightmarish transportation some Machiavellian next – level prank enacted by the mercurial and capricious interdimensional entity known as the “Q”?

When he spoke to his mirror image, his voice carried a note of realization and a tinge of annoyance.

“I’m in the wormhole; I’m speaking with the Wormhole aliens.”

His doppelgänger seemed slightly hurt by this blunt characterization and made a show of pouting a little as it replied with some petulance.

“Well, the Bajoran’s would call us the “Prophets” and that you stand in threshold of the Celestial Temple itself.” The other Captain Trevenan Williams made a show of inspecting his nails and with a disinterested shrug of his shoulders as he concluded.

“Neither terms really encompasses anything close to the truth of our existence, but what can you expect from primates really? At the end of the day, I personally find the endless religious idolatry extraneous and quite frankly quite unhelpful – but I digress. Questions, doubtless you have questions?”

Trevenan fought against the sudden urge to punch himself in the face and glared at the manifestation of self that was rode by the Wormhole Alien and replied sourly.

“Why am I here?”

The entity made a dismissive circle with his hand from the wrist and sighed.

“Well, that is the million – credit question really isn’t it?” The other Trevenan looked pityingly at the Captain of the USS Vega. “Of course, I’ll tell you, I mean – what’s the point of bringing you all this way if I don’t?” The being prevaricated.

“But I warn you, you probably won’t like what we have to say.” The other Captain Williams looked flatly at him, before adding sniffily. “Your kind seldom do.”

Trevenan Williams prided himself as a level – headed man of even temper, but this machination by the mysterious being’s that inhabited the dimensions contained within the conduit between Alpha and Gamma Quadrants were beginning to test his patience to the limit.

“Say what you have to say and cease this mummers – farce.” He snapped at the other version of himself. “If this charade has any meaning whatsoever, let’s get down to it. I don’t appreciate being separated from my command in this manner, so say whatever it is that you have to say and return me to my ship!”

If the Wormhole Alien was taken aback by this outburst, it chose not to let it’s chagrin show on his stolen – face.

“Well, you’ve hit the nail on the head old – boy.” The Prophet looked slyly at him. “Meaning, that is.” The other Trevenan held his arms out wide to indicate the abyssal nothingness that surrounded them both.

Trevenan frowned massively at the creature, but had not choice but to continue to indulge this diatribe,

“Without meaning there is literally nothing is there?” The alien smiled. “But what is meaning but a framework of mutually agreed structures that we choose to attribute to a series of random events, eh?”

“I assume I wasn’t brought here to discuss semantics?” Trevenan crossed his arms to make his displeasure known.

His mirror – self frowned at this and replied.

“Of course not. You were brought here so we could deliver a warning.” The creature said, as if this was self – evident and Trevenan was a small child.

“A warning.” Trevenan repeated flatly.

The creature flapped its hand again in a show of frustration.

“Warning. Prophesy. Insight. Guidance. Call it what you will!” The projection from the Prophet’s replied irritably. “Honestly, I told the others I don’t know why we bother? It’s not as if you have the whit to parse or comprehend the sheer immensity of the events that are going to transpire – but I bend to the will of my compatriots in this thing as in others, so here goes….”

Trevenan said nothing and regarded the creature flatly.

“Look for the return of the Traveler who is lost but has never left.” The Prophet intoned in a voice that clearly relayed that it’d rather be literally anywhere else in existence doing absolutely anything else at this point in time and was only doing so on sufferance. “At the conjunction of the wandering children, the way will open and the broken mirror will show the truth.”

The creature delivered this oblique augury and then shrugged and flapped its arms at its sides apologetically. It made a show of blowing out it’s cheeks (his cheeks) and rolled it’s eyes upwards (not that there was an up, down, left or right in this endless, white void) and added defensively.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it!”

Trevenan felt the blood rush to his face as his ire grew and then boiled over.

“You brought me here, did this, all to deliver a bloody RIDDLE!?” He protested.

The doppelgänger regarded him blankly and hazarded rhetorically.

“You’re upset.”

“You’re damned right. I’m upset!” Trevenan raged, his fists curling tight as he attempted to gather his calm again. “This is unconscionable! Fine! I accept that you may be omnipotent! I accept that you may even be trying to help, albeit in your own confounding and condescending way, but for all that is good – can’t you just speak plainly for once and tell me in simple language what in creation you are talking about?!!”

The wormhole alien stared impassively at Trevenan. The net effect was like looking into a mirror that wasn’t doing its job.

“You’ve no sense of subtlety do you?” The Prophet replied petulantly. “No appreciation for nuance or metaphor at all really.”

Before Trevenan could frame a response, the creature shook it’s head and declared dismissively.

“At least the last guy had some semblance of comprehension and one might say even good manners in the end. If you’re going to persist in being tiresome then really I don’t think that  there’s anything else left to say, do you?”

“Now wait a minute !” Trevenan started forward towards the Wormhole Alien, but the featureless landscape began to intensify and flare, the glow of light such that he was forced to raise an arm to shield his eyes from the growing glare.

He thought that he heard the Prophet mutter something about “Ingrates”.

And then he was somewhere else.

Bright light shone directly in his eyes and he tried to blink it away. His surroundings were indistinct, but there was a familiar hum of activity that reached his ears that he could not quite place. The prophet and the Celestial Temple were gone and as he tried to rise, a firm hand on his chest pushed him downwards.

“Now hold yer horses right there, partner. Y’all ain’t headin’ nowhere. Y’hear me?” Came a familiar twang that spoke of authority and would broker no resistance.

“Doc Harrington?” Trevenan mumbled, his mouth dry.

“The same.” The USS Vega’s formidable Chief Medical Officer assured him as she turned off her penlight and muttered to a nurse. “Pupillary Light Reflex within normal dilation range.” Before assuring Trevenan.

“Now rest easy Captain.” The physician explained patiently. “Y’all in the sickbay. Y’all appeared to suffer from some sort of seizure on the bridge that eventuated a catatonic state. Perplexingly y’all are stable now, but I’m going to run a number of tests to satisfy myself that y’all are going to stay that way.”

Trevenan looked around. He was indeed lying on a Biobed in the ship’s sickbay.

“The ship…”He began and attempted to struggle to a sitting position, but a wave of nausea drove him back and Dr Amanda Harrington chided.

“Has cleared the Wormhole and is en – route to New Bajor, so just park yer keister right yonder and don’t make me wrangle yer hide into submission with a sedative.” The Doctor commanded and waggled a hypospray meaningfully in his direction.

“But I…” Trevenan began to protest.

“Y’all are a Fifty – Three-year-old man that has just undergone an unexplained and significant trauma that’s analogous to a stroke.” Amanda told him in no uncertain terms, her Texan accent conveying harsh authority. “If y’all think I’m about to let y’all spring outta bed and tear off charging around the ship, slinging orders like nothin’ ever went down, y’all – well y’all got another thing coming there ‘Lash – LaRue’! “

Harrington pointed a finger at the CO’s chest, pointedly and added with firm certainty.

“And don’t think that I won’t invoke my authority as CMO to have you removed from command on medical grounds and confined to sickbay, if y’all want to try me on this Captain?”

Trevenan relented. The events of the last few hours? Minutes? Had indeed left him fatigued and confused. The encounter with the prophets had left him utterly perplexed, with more questions posed that actual answers provided (such was their way) and the cryptic encounter resonated in his mind as he lay back down on the Biobed.

“In which case I defer to the good – Doctor’s opinion.”

Amanda snorted and eyed the recumbent CO with short satisfaction.

“Which is exactly the right answer.” Harrington nodded with a small, wry smile. “Now y’all just take it easy and get some rest now. Nurse B’run will be right by soon to run a series of Cerebral -angiogram tests and if y’all behave, y’all may qualify for a tub of Jell-O.” The Doctor commanded.

“I’ll let Commander Mason know that y’all back in the land of the living. Until we reach Opaka Outpost, the XO’s in the driving seat. My final word.”

“Understood.” Trevenan relented and closed his eyes, the words of the Prophet ringing in his ears.

“A feller your age oughta be mighty grateful he’s able to bounce back from somethin’ like that.”.” Dr Harrington smiled again as she left his bedside. “Ol’ boy might have a few more miles in him yet, long as he listens to his Doctor’s advice.”

Trevenan left that last jibe unanswered as Harrington left the room.

“Welcome to the Gamma Quadrant, Captain!”