“Four weeks.” Commodore Geronimo Fontana stood at the tall windows of his quarters on the USS Zephyr, searching the streaking stars for answers as he recorded his latest captain’s log. “Four weeks and we’re nearly to Starbase 80, towing the inactive Borg cube with us. The Olympic and her crew have continued to monitor it to ensure nothing wakes up or attempts to jump off before we arrive.” He sipped his steaming cup of herbal tea. No word had come from Denver or Buran. Several other ships that were sent to other realities had found around one hundred of the lost from the station. Out of the 300, it was a disappointing result. There was still no mention of Commander T’saath in the reports. The Traveler’s updated data had given no clearer sign where she had vanished to or how. There were traces in other realities of the remaining 200, but not enough. The Wandering Wolf had recently joined the search and had been searching several universes for clues.
“There’s worry that we will not find them all.” He stopped as emotions threatened to climb his and tighten his throat. “What we know now is the worst part. If we don’t get them home before May 17th, they will cease to exist in any universe or reality.” He gritted his teeth at the memory of that briefing. The Loom’s part in all of this has been hardest to accept. It had shocked many officers into moving faster in their efforts. Others it had threatened to derail their ability to focus. “Captain Pantuso assures me that the science departments on Montana Station are doing everything they can and are working night and day with the data they’ve been provided. I believe her. Everyone on the station knows one of the missing people. I’ve asked her to meet with the counseling department to draw up a plan for the possibility of some not making it back.” He sighed. That had not been a fun conversation.
“Meanwhile, the Borg cube remains quiet. We’ve had a few ships watch us speed by, and plenty of media requests. I’ve denied all of them. Various task groups have assisted with escorts through their sectors. We’re within a day of Starbase 80.” He finished his tea, unsure of what to say next. “We still have plenty of work ahead of us. First on the top of that list is getting the cube back through the porthole to the right place and time.” He set his mug down on the end table in his living room. “The rest of the list is a mess of trying to find everyone before time runs out. I’ve seen a lot in my career. This one feels like not everyone is going to make it across the finish line at last call.” He stared at the stars again. There were times he wished he were back working in middle management of a station or a planet. The responsibility weighed heavily in the hardest of times. A small voice in the back of his mind had been asking over the last few weeks if this was what he wanted. Suddenly klaxons rang out. “Computer, save and end log.”
“Captain, a group of Klingons has intercepted us. They demand to speak to our commanding officer. We’ve had to drop from warp speed.”
“On my way.”
“You must explain this action, Commodore Fontana. We must destroy the Borg. It is an undeniable fact!” The Klingon captain spat out his words, his eyes staring bat’leths at Fontana.
Geronimo’s patience was fading as he repeated himself. “Captain Jonqa, we’ve transmitted our data to you. We’ve explained to you that these are not the Borg we know. They are from another universe. They do not belong here and they need to go back.”
“Federation lies! I am old enough to remember the dark times between our peoples. The lies. The manipulation. You must destroy this cube with us, or stand aside.”
Fontana leaned forward in his chair, his face tightening. “You speak for the Klingon High Council? For Klingon Command?” The nervous glances from the bridge behind the captain suggested otherwise.
“I speak for my people, Captain Fontana. And we are unhappy with this ‘vanishings’ is being handled. This cube is another Federation plot to use banned weapons and technologies. We will not allow you to secrete this ship away.”
Fontana shook his head, both in disbelief and furious annoyance. “We’re not taking this ship into a secret laboratory, Captain. We’re trying to get it the hell out of our universe and get it back where it belongs–far away from us.” He took a deep breath and spoke before the Klingon could try to fill the space with his ranting. “I offer a compromise. Follow us in formation, and you can see that we will do exactly as we say we will. I hear Starbase 80 has some good Klingon restaurants. I’ll buy dinner.”
Jonqa tersely growled out, “Let me discuss this matter with my crew.” The audio muted, and Fontana turned, ordering the same on their end.
From the XO chair on the right, Lieutenant Commander Henry Longfellow mused, “Everybody’s unhappy with this thing. I imagine our diplomatic teams are busy trying to keep everyone from shooting each other over it.” He adjusted his glasses. “I’d rather they handled it. I just cleaned and inventoried sickbay.”
Fontana chuckled. “I can’t make any promises, Doctor Longfellow. Jonqa’s the one you should be worried about. Never met him, but he seems like he’s trying to prove something.”
Henry stared at the silent debate happening on the screen. “The nature of the modern Klingon Empire. Someone always wants to prove something to move up the line, and they’d be willing to do something insane to get it.” He asked Fontana, “You think he’d try?”
Geronimo smirked. “You just don’t want to clean up sickbay again.”
“You blame me? It’s much bigger than my previous sickbays. So many cupboards.” They;d had this discussion before. Longfellow’s desire to return to a small ship and a small sickbay.
Fontana shook his head. “You’re here to stay, Doc Longfellow. I need the best, and I have the best. Not trading down.” A quiet smile crossed his lips. “Besides, who would I have conversations like this with?”
Longfellow scoffed, but he smiled in reply. “I won’t argue with a commodore.” He stood and headed for the turbolift. “Might as well make sure they’ve not redone it all while I was gone.”
Jonqa’s voice startled the bridge crew’s focus back to the screen.“Commodore Fontana.”
“Captain Jonqa. Are we agreed?”
The Klingon narrowed his eyes, as if trying to see if there was some hidden agenda in the human. Seeming to find none, he nodded. “We are agreed. Send us your formation, and we shall join you.” The screen clicked off.
Fontana stood from his chair, feeling a sense of relief. “Ensign Penna, get us back in formation and work with Jonqa’s helmsman. Get us back on course and on our way. Tactical – monitor Jonqa and his friends.”
The Zephyr, Olympic, Borg cube, and the small Klingon squadron shifted into order and vanished as the group jumped to warp.
