[Captains Ready Room, Deck 1]
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“Computer, Initiate Encrypt Comms Channel, Code 47. USS Dragon to USS Nobel.” Michael spoke after sealing the doors to his office.
[Computer: “Connecting, please stand by”]
Michael sat at his desk, resting the bridge of his nose between two fingers as the trilling ‘waiting’ tone chirped in steady intervals. Finally, the screen lit up with the tired face of Task Force 47’s Deputy Commander, Jack Anderson. “Mike, you ok?” he asked in a concerned tone.
“Yeah. Wanted to let you know, Lt. Orlok Ken is awake and conscious. We have a Trill surgical team onboard, we have positive ID of the displaced Quantum State Vector, and on route to Starbase 80 as we speak.” Michael explained.
Jack paused for a moment, his eyes slightly squinted in doubt, “And, you couldn’t tell me this over a normal channel because?”
“Because you and I had a conversation a little while ago, about how Starfleet likes to operate on a need-to-know basis. And I, for one, am not one to argue that logic. However, there is something I need to know before I take my ship through that dimensional rift tomorrow.” Michael stated.
Jack sat back in his chair, wiping his face, “Ok, what is it?”
“What happened at Starfleet Headquarters on star date 41775?” The Betazoid asked flatly.
The exhaustion left Jack’s eyes as they widened in realization of the request. He sat up in his chair, shifting uncomfortably. “A request like that is going to be followed up with an immediate, Why?”
“Because I am going to be sending my ship into a universe where I will have to deal with whatever we faced, and thankfully, overcame that day. Only in this universe, we didn’t win.” Michael retorted, leaning back in his own chair and unbuttoning the lapel on his uniform.
“And you’ve got confirmation?” Jack followed up.
“Yeah. Firsthand, so to speak.” Michael affirmed.
Jack leaned forward, interlocking his fingers as his hands rested on his desk. “Ok, I’ll get the information to you within the hour. Needless to say, the contents of this are highly classified, command doesn’t like acknowledging when they’re caught with their pants down, so only divulge to operationally necessary personnel. And if this is truly the case, the Dragon will have to be quarantined as soon as you’re back through the portal.”
“Wholeheartedly agree. I’ll make my staff aware of that fact so there aren’t any awkward standoff situations.” Michael agreed.
“Good Luck, Michael, and Godspeed, Anderson out.”
[Guest Quarters, Deck 12]
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The hospitality of the Dragon Crew was unprecedented; despite the fact the Displaced Crew had shot at them and threatened to blow up their ship 24 hours prior. Each of them was afforded the accommodation that was reserved for their prime counterparts. And even though the amenities for even the lower enlisted were far superior to anything they were accustomed to, their instinctual survival skills drew them all to remain together, bunking up in Lt. Smith’s room.
There was still a wave of silent recession that fell on the room, though they were truly safe for the first time in years, each of them was waiting for ‘the other foot’ to drop. To pass the time, Smith, Jones, ch’Rimm, and the large Brikar Wailen sat around the table playing cards. A’Vran sat at the desk, accessing the ship’s database on various topics, but mostly regarding the Borg and technological advancements in the last 40 years. Miranda sat alone on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest, not really paying much attention to anyone or anything.
The atmosphere shifted when the room doors slid open, and in walked Orlok Ken. The card game was frozen as the players tried to process what they were seeing. A’Vran even stood at his station, giving the Trill Officer a visual once over. It was Miranda who broke the mold, bolting from her spot on the sofa and lunging at Orlok with her hands outstretched. Had she not weighed more than a wet towel, he would have been knocked over as she tightly hugged around his neck, tears pouring from her face.
Orlok wrapped his arms around Miranda’s waist, holding her just as tight as he whispered softly to her that everything was now ok. The card table was abandoned as the others crowed around the Trill, joining in a large group hug that lasted several minutes, the overwhelming weight of people who had mourned a deep loss slowly melting away.
As everyone settled, the group collected on the couches, with Miranda refusing to leave Orlok’s side, still clinging to his arm as the displaced discussed recent events.
“They want to send us back…” Smith explained to their leader.
“Why can’t we stay? Can’t we ask for sanctuary or something?!” ch’Rimm begged.
“It would be illogical to ask our hosts to allow us to occupy the lives of their officers, who now suffer in our places, in lieu of our own wellbeing.” A’Vran replied coldly.
“I’m not saying don’t go and save them! Hell, I’ll help! But let us come back with them! I can live with a twin the rest of my life!” the Andorian shot back.
“That, or damn, let us have some of their bad ass weapons that can give us an edge against the contaminated. The power output of their phaser rifles is scores higher than what we have back home. Casey added.
“They can’t.” Orlok stated, his matter-of-fact tone stressing the finality of that statement. “What’s happening to this universe is happening on a catastrophic scale. Its not just our world that’s bleeding into theirs, but a multitude of other realities that they are chasing after to try and clean up. And as we have seen in life, nature, space, and time…the universe has means to heal itself, to correct the imbalance. And what the captain has shown me, of what is to come if they can’t fix things in time…scares me more than the parasites do.”
Orlok leaned down, kissing Miranda on the forehead, pulling her in tightly for comfort, as everyone else sank in the weight of their officer’s words.
[Senior Officers’ Galley, Deck 5]
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“I wish there was something we could do for them…” Zach trailed off, taking a seat next to Kiff.
“We can’t. If we step in and solve their problem, it will cause an unresolvable paradox and draw the Loom right to them. Out of the pan and into the fire.” Kiff resolved, taking a drink of a blue fizzy drink, which he and Zach were sharing.
“What do you think, V?” Zach directed towards the window. V’era sat stretched along the couch, with a flute of bubbly red liquid in her hand. Her attention was focused out the window, at the stars flying past, but she was still listening to the conversation.
“Honestly, professional curiosity has me intrigued at the chance to examine the Loom, despite the extreme dangers surrounding them.” The Half Vulcan confessed.
“Science depo living life on the wild side, huh? Well, don’t let them touch you…” The Andorian snorted, accepting the drink from Kiff and taking a swing himself, his antenna twitched in response as his face contorted for a moment as the strong liquid hit his tongue.
“What about you, sir? Are you doing alright?” Kiff asked Pi, who sat across from them. He had been quiet most of the night, a hint of unease hovering over his head ever since the group meeting and his interview with the Displaced Vulcan.
“It’s ok, we’re off duty. You don’t have to call me Sir. But thanks for asking, it’s nothing really, just residual memories.” The xB confirmed, sipping a cup of strong coffee. “Everything that’s happened to me in the past few years, you think imagining a world without the Borg would be a paradise. But seeing them, hearing what they deal with, makes you wonder if I’d been dreaming of the wrong thing.”
“Facing the fact that your home world is destroyed in an alternate universe as well, abolishes the illusion that at least somewhere, some instance of your people has hope.” V’era remarked from the window, looking at the others through the reflection of the glass.
“Uzaveh, save us. If you people don’t stop being so damn depressing, Clara is gonna sense it and make us do group therapy.” Zach exclaimed.
Kiff took a drink, holding it better than his companion did, and nodded to the Andorian. “You know, I’m proud of you, Zach. Of all the people on board, I figured you would have hit on the Deltan a lot more. I think it’s a sign of you finally maturing!” the Bolian Engineer stated, with a snicker and slight slur in his voice.
“Zachary, Maturing? I think you have had too much to drink, Kiff.” V’era sneered.
There was an eruption of laughter at the table, even Zach joining in at the jab. “Nah! Clara is good people. Plus, I want my attraction to be natural, never know if what I’m feeling is me, or her Deltan charm at work.”
“Its you.” Both Kiff and Pi spoke in unison, causing the table to roar with laughter again. V’era couldn’t help but smirk at the jokes too, present company being one of the few that would not judge her for the expression.
However, as the boys continue to talk and tease one another, V’era couldn’t get something they said out of her mind.
{I wish there was something we could do for them…}
[Clara’s Quarters, Deck 4]
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Clara and Jessica were settled in her living room area, while Dr. Roptojmey examined the tray of orderves the councilor had set out for her guests. “If you want, I can replicate some more protein options for you.” The Deltan offered.
Roptojmey waved her off, “Nah! Parents raised me right on the harvests of the soil. Fruits and Vegetables are my pride and joy! Not that I don’t enjoy the occasional mini sausage in a scone!” The Klingon admitted, as he loaded his plate with a dish the replicator called ‘pigs in a blanket.’
“Oh, that’s right, you were raised by Tellarites.” She recalled, picking up a glass of wine next to her and taking a sip. As the doctor walked past, Jessica reached up, snagging a bite off his plate and popping it into her mouth. “Back in HIS day, replicators fabricated sustenance cubes!” the Risan Commander teased.
As Roptojmey made himself comfortable on the couch between the two girls, he turned to Clara and snickered. “I was always partial to the yellow ones.” As Clara began to chuckle at the elder’s joke, the door chime rang out. “Come!” she called. The doors slid open, and a casually dressed Michael Angelus stood in the doorway, with a bottle of chocolate lacquer in hand.
“Oh! Attention on Deck, Captain Badass has arrived!” Jessica taunted, holding her drink high above her head.
As Michael walked in, he looked at her with amused confusion, clearing noting the ‘party’ had started without him. “What?”
“You think that little stunt you pulled in the Shuttle bay wasn’t going to set fire to the rumor mill, didja? With a crew of young and impressionable officers?” Roptojmey stated, matter-of-factly.
“Yes, I am happy to inform you that the current crew morale has risen, since the discovery that their captain is, in fact, a phaser-dodging badass.” Clara joined in, doing her best to hide her laughter.
“You have got to be kidding me…” Michael moaned. But he could sense through the amusement that they were not being deceitful in their words.
“No, I think the current iteration of the story says that you walked into the shuttle bay alone, dodging weapon fire with break dancing moves you learned on Casperia Prime, and used Q-like powers to lift the shuttlecraft they were using as cover over their heads, and shoot all the marauders with Isoliner tags…oh, what was the move they said he used?” Jessica explained, turning to Roptojmey for support.
The Klingon, who had half stuffed his face with the bite-sized morsels, managed to muffle “Three hundred sixty degree, no scope.”
Jessica turned from the doctor back to the captain, with a malevolent grin. “Yeah. Whatever that is.”
“Q like powers?!” Michael gasped in disbelief.
“Oh yes, apparently you’re Half Betazoid, Half Q now. Congratulations. That ought to make this next mission a breeze. Just snap your fingers, right all wrongs, and we can be back in our universe before lunch.” Clara mocked playfully.
Michael crossed the living area in defeat, slumping down on the couch next to Roptojmey, while still half chuckling to himself.
“Welp, now that you’re half Q, I don’t have to worry about your genetic Betazoid sweet tooth causing you pre-diabetes.” He snorted, taking the bottle of lacquer from the captain and starting to pour a few rounds.
“Wh…How?” Michael argued faintly, still slightly amused, yet embarrassed by the absurdity of it all.
“You can thank your boy Brannigan for this one. Couldn’t help but regale anyone who would listen on the spectacle he got to watch from the front row.” Jessica explained, taking a shot of the chocolate drink from the doctor as he passed them around.
“I’m going to kil—talk to him about this later.” Michael finally spat out, as his senior staff around him continued to break into amused giggles at his expense.
“Oh, don’t do that. You’re his Idol now, he will follow anything you say without question!” Stern stated, raising her glass. “To Captain Badass!”
“To Captain Badass!” Roptojmey and Clara mirrored, raising their drinks.
Michael shook his head once more, raising his own glass, “Fuck all of you.” He expressed as he took his shot with the rest of them, enjoying the time they had together, before the dawn of their inevitably impossible task.
[To be Continued]
