A Star Trek: The Next Generation-inspired Story
By D. Lynn Bivens, Gerald James Seward and L.G. Frey
("Space: the ultimate challenge. These are the voyages of the starship Solar Wind. Its mission: to promote peace and understanding between the Tholian Assembly and the United Federation of Planets, to protect that peace, to be a light in the darkness in a hostile region of the galaxy, to boldly take one step further in the realm of exploration.")
Chief Medical Officer's log, stardate 49159.21 - The Solar Wind has been assigned to another special mission in the Tholian Assembly's territory, due to certain tensions in this region.
During the early stage of this mission, I became aware of an unusual ailment suffered by First Officer Gray Banner: almost every female who comes into contact with Mr. Banner exhibits sexual arousal and attraction to the commander (I seem to be immune to its effects). This behavior might seem amusing under normal conditions, but untimely flirtation could be dangerous under critical circumstances such as the present situation. I have alerted Security Chief Shanoch to the First Officer's mysterious and potentially hazardous ailment.
Soon after Mr. Banner's unintentional visit to Sickbay, Lieutenant Pferrin called on me in my office to satisfy his curiosity concerning the Solar Wind's Starfleet registry number; I briefed Mr. Pferrin on the saucer section's future-history, omitting the detail that I was aboard when it came to this timeline after a terrible battle with the Old Ones. Soon after this conversation, I had a dream re-enactment of that dreadful day, then my father contacted me telepathically, to warn me of the danger from the Old Ones. I know this was not just a coincidence . . . there must be a reason why the subject of the Old Ones keeps coming up again.
Lieutenant Lian Jin created an unprofessional scene on the Bridge, concerning her husband, Frank Marcello. She was more appalled by her outburst than anyone, but we all understand that she is under a great deal of stress from the difficult situation of finally finding her husband once more, only to discover that he has been assimilated by the Borg, and Frank/Antor's slow recovery will never be complete.
On stardate 49139.6, Starfleet Admiral Savar contacted Captain Morris with the report that a trader, who had been operating in the recently-opened territory in Tholian space until recently, had stolen a runabout and nearly crash-landed at Starbase 624 and insisted that a group of Tholian isolationists meant to bomb a Federation starbase. Starfleet officials suspected that this trader, Kirsten McClure, might be working for these terrorists. The Solar Wind was ordered to proceed to Starbase 624 at Warp 9.
When we approached Fontana IV, where Starbase 624 is located, Captain Morris contacted Admiral Mark Robertson for first-hand information on this situation. During this communication, the admiral received the news that Ms. McClure had barged into the starbase, warning the personnel about a suspicious-looking object that had just been discovered, fastened to the C & C building. The trader apparently fled the building and returned to the runabout shortly afterward. A moment later, there was an explosion and communication was abruptly cut off.
During the approach to Fontana IV, the Solar Wind encountered the stolen runabout, the Shannon, and its pilot, Kirsten McClure. The Shannon was brought into our shuttlebay with tractor beams, then Kirsten McClure was taken into custody. Ms. McClure insisted she was innocent, but she knew so much about the explosive device that destroyed Starbase 624 that Captain Morris was suspicious of her actions.
While Ms. McClure was held in the brig, the Medical Department was on Yellow Alert, rushing a medical team to the starbase in the Shannon to provide first aid to the victims of this cowardly attack. The shuttle was necessary because emissions from the photon bomb disabled our sensors, which made our transporters useless. The Away Team consisted of First Officer Banner, Security Chief Shanoch, Ensign Friedman, Nurse David Crowley, and myself.
We witnessed the appalling aftermath of the destruction of Starbase 624, while we rescued 58 victims and found 1,230 fatalities. Our Away Team encountered booby traps and an ambush by the terrorists before we freed Admiral Robertson, Commander Radlinski, and their staff from the C & C office building.
After our return to the Solar Wind, Admiral Robertson called for a briefing. My duties in Sickbay prevented my attendance, but I have heard that Ms. McClure is still suspected of complicity in the terrorist attack on Starbase 624.
Supplemental log entry: When the Solar Wind approached the Tholian homeworld to pursue the case against the terrorists who call themselves the Tholian Sub-Assembly, Fourth Level, several small Tholian ships attacked this starship with incredible ferocity, damaging the warp drive and reducing the defensive shields to half their strength.
Captain Morris decided to contact the Tholian Assembly personally on the homeworld. Accompanied by Kirsten McClure and Susan Green for their experience in dealing with Tholians, and Security Chief Shanoch for military tactics, the captain took command of the runabout Euphrates. Commander Banner was left in command of the Solar Wind, under the captain's orders to follow the runabout to the Tholian homeworld.
Moments after the runabout left the shuttlebay and took a heading toward Tholia, a huge anomaly appeared in space, directly in their path. This anomaly gave off enormous eruptions of high-energy tetryon and verteron emissions, which registered right off the scale of the instruments. It was not a stellar explosion, nor any known type of cosmic phenomenon. While the officers on the Bridge watched, this anomaly opened up and seemed to swallow the runabout.
"Thank you, Counselor. I feel much better now."
"You're most welcome, Barbara," said Breend. "You may now return to duty, but don't hesitate to contact me should you suffer a recurrence of anxieties."
With a nod and a smile, the pretty little lieutenant from Stellar Cartography, Barbara Hambly, turned and stepped out of Lieutenant Commander Breend's office, the doors quickly whooshing shut behind her.
"Computer," Breend called into the air, "are there any more patients waiting?"
"No more appointments at this current time."
Breend blew a heavy sigh. "Thank the Holy Spirits."
Getting up from the couch, she strode across the short expanse of the office area to the replicator recessed into one of the decorative bulkheads.
"Samarian Sunset . . . extra cold," the hefty woman called as she slipped off her suit jacket and threw it on the couch.
A swirl of coalescing atoms later and a large glass filled with crushed ice and a clear liquid solidified in the center of the well-lit chamber. Breend reached in and grasped the frosty glass, a shiver sent up her spine as her palm tingled from the cold surface of the glass. She brought the drink up to her lips, then sharply tapped the rim of the glass, causing the liquid to turn into a multitude of colors. She sipped with pleasure.
She then made a slow circuit about the room and thought about her relationship with Donald Morris. The man. Not the captain.
Her husband.
The One who had rescued the Sumokken religious sect of her people.
Though she'd come to love him deeply over the years, she couldn't help but remind herself of the real reason for their union sometime after her coming aboard the Solar Wind as Counselor K'Ron's replacement. Breend recalled most vividly her own father, Braand, relaying the news from the Samarian government in the Beta Quadrant sent via subspace within hours of her Solar Wind assignment.
"I've heard from the Council of Spiritual Awareness today, my daughter," Braand told her via comm channel.
Breend was shocked. "Um . . . r-really, father? It . . . it is rare to hear from them. Is . . . is there a problem?"
On the computer screen in the counselor's quarters on the Solar Wind, Braand dropped his eyes as a look of helplessness flowed over what Breend knew to be an otherwise strong countenance.
"They wish a "bond" with this human, Donald Morris. A physical bond which would lead to a spiritual one with someone our religious leaders have deemed a very important link to the Samarian future."
Breend swallowed hard, then asked, "What . . . what does this have to do with you, father? Or with me?"
Oh, father, tell me it's not what I think it is.
Braand met her eyes via the computer screen's display and exuded strength and confidence in his daughter which could be felt all these hundreds of light-years away. But his face remained chiseled in icy stone as he spoke.
"Since you're both on the same mission of peace with the Tholians, the Council wants you to marry this human."
Tears had welled up in Breend's eyes at the recollection. Tears over how cold such a pronouncement through her father from their government had left her. Tears at how sorry she felt for her father for being placed in the middle with his only daughter. Tears of fear over manipulating this human into falling in love with her and marrying her.
And tears of joy for finding someone she really did love with all her heart. A true love whom she'd never have found had not Samaria's religious leaders ordered her to do so.
She finished her Samarian Sunset, no longer concerned with disturbing the lovely colors encircling the ice.
"Please, Donald, come back to me," Breend said, tearfully.
First Officer's log, stardate 49159.21 - Lieutenant Commander RaJa completed repairs to our damaged warp drive, allowing the Solar Wind to reach and sustain Warp 1.9, which was enough to get us the rest of the way to the Tholian homeworld. Having arrived within visual communication range, I've informed hive-leader Xais of the Sub-Assembly's attack on us and the disappearance of the Euphrates and all who were aboard it.
A diplomatic Away Team, led by legal officer T'Mara Hiatt, has beamed down to help the hive government sort out this mess and find a way to best deal with the isolationists, while at the same time, not jeopardizing our treaty with the Tholians.
In the meantime, I and the command staff will try to figure out what happened to the runabout, the captain, and the others and how the hell we can locate and return them. If they are still alive.
As the Conn officer on duty, Ensign Yhprum, made certain the Solar Wind's station-keeping thrusters kept the starship in the Tholians' desired orbit, Commander Banner had convened an emergency briefing of all concerned Bridge officers.
"Well, everyone's seen my log," Banner began. "Comments."
Around the long, gray conference table sat some of the finest minds and best officers to come out of Starfleet Academy in quite a number of years, Doctor L'Aura, Science Officer Orion, Engineer Emja Garu Ra-Sham Ra-Sham RaJa Derack, Lieutenant Pferrin, and Lieutenant Lian Jin. Yet, for just a couple of moments, they all seemed dumbfounded. Utterly stumped.
But only for a couple of moments.
Lieutenant Commander Orion spoke up. "Sensor sweeps of the area reveal no trace of debris, only subatomic particles. I don't believe the runabout was destroyed."
"I would have to agree with Lieutenant Orion," Lian said. "They're obviously no longer a part of our reality. No longer a part of the universe through which we move and live."
This stirred those seated about the conference table as Commander Banner leaned forward and folded his hands atop it, great interest gleaming in his often piercing brown eyes.
"Please . . . elaborate," said Banner.
Lian took a deep breath. "Well . . . we all know that alternate realities are a scientific fact." She shot a glance at L'Aura. "But certain aspects of both Vulcan philosophy and Bajoran religion dictate that the possible 'alternates' to what we perceive as the prime universe are, quite literally, endless. Just as human theorists had hypothesized for hundreds of years with Einsteinian equations."
"So this anomaly we saw could have thrust the Euphrates into another universe," said Banner.
"If that's so, how could we possibly locate them?" asked Pferrin. "Much less bring them back to this universe?"
No one seemed able to answer the Ops officer's query, but all were deeply committed to coming up with an answer. All were concentrating on what seemed to be an insurmountable problem with astronomical odds stacked against any measure of success.
There were many in the Federation who would've just given up - written off Morris, Shanoch, Sue Green, and Kirsten McClure as missing in action.
But not the command crew of the Solar Wind.
Banner looked at the ship's thin, humanoid science officer. "Commander Orion, I want you to recalibrate the sensors and review all related occurrences known of this nature in the last hundred years. I want to know exactly where that runabout vanished to and I want to know within 24 hours."
"Aye, Commander. I'm already thinking of some possibilities to explore."
Banner turned his attention to the fur-covered engineer and the young, roughly humanoid lieutenant with the spike-ridged nose. "Commander RaJa and Lieutenant Pferrin, I want Engineering and Operations to coordinate their efforts to come up with a viable yet safe means of rescuing the captain and the others should their whereabouts be somehow pinpointed. Also within 24 hours."
"Yes, sir," Pferrin said, a little shakily.
RaJa said tensely, "You certainly must believe in miracles, Mr. Banner, because that's precisely what you're asking for."
"I think the Solar Wind has a miracle or two still in her, Commander," Banner replied confidently.
Engineer RaJa nodded and gave the nervous Lieutenant Pferrin (who seemed about ready to faint from the tremendous task just tossed his way) a reassuring smile. Though RaJa had sounded doubtful, in truth, he had total faith in being able to get the starship to somehow retrieve Captain Morris and his runabout crew. Provided, of course, Science Officer Orion managed to locate them.
Banner turned to the elfin-sized CMO. "Dr. L'Aura, I'll need your medical staff ready to treat whatever trauma they might be undergoing from the reality they've popped into. We'll beam them directly to Sickbay."
L'Aura nodded. There were no words of comfort she could impart, save her own knowledge of alternate universes and how it was possible to enter and exit alive.
Unfortunately, the dangers within many realities would be enough to snuff out the existence of even an experienced Gallifreyan Time Lord in a TARDIS. Who knew how Morris and the others would cope if they touched down in some nightmarish reality.
Gray rose from his seat at the conference table, heaving a deep breath. "I'll go talk to Counselor Breend. Being second-in-command does have its uneasy moments. Briefing adjourned."
Breend was staring out one of the portal-windows of her office when the door chimes announced someone wishing entry. She almost didn't hear the electronic bleeps; her worried mind was too centered on the stars beyond Tholia and her husband's whereabouts.
"Come in," she permitted.
Even as she said it, she knew who it was. He entered, his reflection on the transparent aluminum window as filled with regret as the man casting it.
"Hello, Mr. Banner. Somehow I doubt you're here to discuss your "problems" with most of the female crewmembers again."
Gray recalled how embarrassed he was when relating this curious sexual attraction women on board were suddenly displaying toward him to the woman who was married to his captain. Gray would gladly trade this sad moment for those embarrassing ones.
Gray blew a heavy sigh. "No. Unfortunately not. I'm afraid...I have some bad news."
A tear rolled down Breend's cheek as she asked, "Is he dead?"
"No. We don't believe so. We think he and the other three have somehow been sent into an alternate reality."
Steeling herself against the sadness which had threatened to overwhelm her seconds earlier, Breend wiped the lone tear from her face and spun toward the commander so fast he became startled.
"And to you, this is a good thing?" she screamed.
Gray kept speaking calmly. "At least we now have a chance to find them. To rescue them."
"And what are the odds of that? A million to one? A billion?!"
Suddenly, Gray's command abilities took control and his face became a mask of dogged determination and his voice rang out with unwavering faith.
"We will find your husband, Counselor," Banner said sternly, yet assuredly, "and we will bring him back. Even if it burns out every isolinear chip on this ship. We will bring him back."
The Samarian could sense the strength in the First Officer's words and turned back to stare out at the stars again. Her sadness now took a less dominant role within her heart and mind, a surge of renewed belief rising to chase away tortured thoughts.
"I just hope he's still alive," Breend said, wiping tears away, "wherever they happen to be."
Captain's log, stardate unknown - We are no longer in a realm wherein such timekeeping methods might apply. All our sensor scans, limited though they may be, have told us the space-time in which our runabout has appeared has no physical resemblance to the one we were in prior to an unforeseen occurrence which sent us - here.
All attempts to raise someone on subspace radio have failed. So have the attempts using all other known bands of transmission frequencies. We can't even pick up the stellar static which should permeate the surrounding starfield.
Nor are we orbiting any planetary bodies. Let alone the Tholian homeworld.
We are most definitely "where no one has gone before." At least, no one from our reality.
"Recommend bringing runabout's defensive weaponry on-line, Captain," Shanoch suggested.
Captain Morris would've usually preferred a more diplomatic approach, such as would've been taken by one of his own personal role models: Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise. But he knew his Chief of Security was absolutely right: wherever they had been sent, it seemed to not be a hospitable universe.
Even the hairs on the back of Morris's neck were bristling and it had nothing to do with a possible build-up of static in the cockpit.
"Very well, Mr. Shanoch," the captain permitted. "Charge both Type IV phaser emitters to 100% and increase power to the shields. Shunt necessary power from warp nacelles. We'll be using impulse only for the time being."
"Aye, aye, Captain." The Klingon/Capellan pressed the proper controls. "Phasers charged. Shields at maximum."
"Why do away with warp?" Susan asked. "Impulse engines can only get us up to half the speed of light."
"Got anyplace special you'd like to hurry to in a reality we know nothing about, Ms. Green?" Morris asked mockingly.
Naturally, Susan didn't answer the largely rhetorical question, but the sarcastic tone in which it was asked caused her expression to quickly switch from perplexion to disgust. The captain wasn't concerned about her feelings at the moment. He was concerned with their survival in this realm and their return to their own universe.
"Any particular heading, sir?" Shanoch asked Morris.
The captain shrugged his broad shoulders. "We'll just keep going in a more-or-less straight line until we run into something."
"Or someone," Kirsten added.
On the gunmetal-gray Bridge of the U.S.S. Solar Wind, Gray Banner was standing next to the main science console in preparation for a run-down of Lieutenant Commander Orion's report regarding their captain's whereabouts.
"Working on the presumption that the Euphrates wasn't destroyed, but was instead sent to an alternate reality," the Tetran began, "I programmed the library computer to correlate all previous events since the beginning of Starfleet and had it postulate what must have occurred. What most logically had to occur."
"And?" Banner asked impatiently.
Orion took that as his cue and tapped a control which caused the science station's display to depict (in Okuda graphics and printed words and equations) precisely what theory the Chief Science Officer would verbally expound.
"Though we know about spatial rifts and rips in the fabric of normal space-time, the most likely scenario for this event has to do with something a lot less documented: a subspace cell or manifold. Something only the Enterprise-D has thus far reported any contact with...where officers were being abducted for experimentation by Solanagen-based beings inhabiting one of these cells."
Banner had heard stories told by officers over glasses of synth ale of the insidious incident where these creatures were literally abducting their First Officer as he slept and taking him into their reality to perform cruel medical procedures on him. The thought of those aliens having Captain Morris, Susan, and the others sent chills down his spine.
"Apparently," Orion continued, "high emissions of tetryon particles from a spatial interphase, which, as you know, are common in some parts of Tholian space, mixed with verterons sent the runabout into one of these subspace manifolds which, as theoretical data and observations show, are each another reality. Another universe."
"Great," Gray said, pointing to the science display. "But I don't see anything amidst the graphs, illustrations, and equations on your display that pertains to locating and rescuing them, Commander."
The pale-faced Tetran's face almost flushed with frustration and shame as he tapped a control which cleared the console's screen of all data he'd been displaying.
"I, uh, I'm sorry to report . . . that aspect hasn't been worked out as yet, sir."
Gray squared his shoulders and folded his hands behind his back, his face deadly serious.
"Well then, Mr. Orion, I strongly suggest you resolve this little 'aspect.' Soon."
"Yes, Commander."
After more than four hours travelling through the unknown cosmos at near-light speeds, the constant sensor scans performed by the crew of the Euphrates had finally touched upon something.
Something very solid and very big. It was heading directly toward them.
"Captain," Shanoch exclaimed, "picking up a massive vessel of unknown configuration at 107 mark 32. One million kilometers and closing fast at .995 sub-light."
Responding quickly as their vessel's pilot, Morris turned hard-to-starboard in an attempt to get them out of harm's way. But he was not naive enough to believe they hadn't been noticed by the behemoth hurtling toward them at very close to the speed of light.
Morris ordered, "Mr. Shanoch, lock phasers on unknown ship and place on stand-by. 100% power."
"Aye, Captain. Locking phasers . . . on stand-by. Full power."
"What the hell good's twin type IV phasers gonna do to that monster?" Kirsten shouted. "Look at it! It's at least twenty times larger than the Solar Wind , maybe 10,000 meters, and probably made of alloys phasers were never designed to disturb."
"When in doubt, Ms. McClure," Morris said, "I always go by the book in potential combat situations. Though it's true our phasers may not scratch their outer hull, even on sustained direct blasts, it is also possible they might destroy it utterly. Phasers may be the force to contend with in this reality, a place where our laws of physics may not apply."
The captain returned to the matter at hand. He had to figure out what to do once the larger, pyramidal craft had engaged them in combat. He knew he couldn't outrun them and he doubted seriously that they could fight them. Resistance (as the Borg were so fond of saying) would indeed seem futile in this instance.
On the ominous Bridge of the gargantuan ship, somewhere within the tangle of glowing, grey arches that covered its surface, the commanding officer sat in obsidian shadows with a hooded cloak concealing his features.
All around him (in a triple-tiered circle with his command chair as the hub), darkly uniformed officers busied themselves at the various stations and consoles - more out of abject fear for their lives than any sense of duty.
At one of the stations sat First Officer Julie Jasienski. Her long, blond hair was the only bright spot about the dark Bridge. If only the same could be said for her tortured soul.
"Alien vessel attempting to flee, O High Commandant," Julie announced with no life in her voice. "Its primitive weapons systems are on-line."
The reverberant voice of the High Commandant asked, "Type of weapons, First Officer Jasienski?"
Looking over to the readouts at a nearby console, Julie said, "Phased energy . . . directed. Nothing our hull shielding cannot handle."
"And their defenses against our weapons, Jasienski?"
"A single nanosecond's pulse from one of our neutronic generators would obliterate them without a trace. Shall I order it, O High Commandant?"
There was a long, heavy pause that seemed to thicken an already tension-filled air on the huge Bridge of the massive vessel. The hooded Commandant was weighing his options even as the three-story-tall viewscreen displayed the runabout racing away from its pursuers (for all the good it would do).
Julie knew better than to interrupt this Old One's train of thought; just as everyone in their oppressive Galactic Hegemony knew.
"No," the Commandant's voice boomed. "I want them brought aboard and interrogated. We must know from whence they came. It would seem to pose a possibility for our forces to expand our territorial control."
The thought chilled Julie, who still recalled the day the Old Ones of this universe descended upon her world in their black-as-night ships (mere fighters, not immense warships). Descended by the thousands to lay waste to her people's planet, Earth, in a matter of hours, claiming the lives of both her Cardassian husband, Daro, and their beautiful daughter, Jovanna. The Earth defense forces were no match; the people were utterly subjugated.
Just like hundreds of other worlds in their Federation.
Julie turned to a dark-haired officer. "Activate tractor beams. Bring that ship into cargo bay 37. Force 12 force-field in place."
"Tractor beams activated, First Officer Jasienski," the dark-haired man responded, his voice just as emotionless as hers. "Ship ensnared...being pulled toward bay 37. Force 12 field will be in place."
"Have the Inquisitors standing by," the Commandant said malevolently. "Interogation shall begin immediately."
L'Aura threw her hands up into the air. "I'm the ship's Chief Medical Officer. What do I know about subspace cells?"
Commander Banner followed the constantly moving CMO about the Sickbay as his patience with their situation had pretty much bottomed out a half-hour before setting foot in Dr. L'Aura's domain.
"Listen, Doctor, I don't have time for this. I get enough ambiguity from Mr. Orion. The captain's lost along with Shanoch, Kirsten, and Susan and the science department needs your personal knowledge of alternate universes to help in rescuing them."
"Oh, my," the tiny doctor sighed. "Commander, I truly want to see Captain Morris rescued...I do! ...but my Gallifreyan genealogy doesn't necessarily mean I know about--"
"Don't give me all this mess about not knowing," Banner shouted. "You may not have personally traveled to other realities as much as your father has, but in your 370-plus-years of existence, you've come to understand something of it."
L'Aura bowed her head, ignoring the commander while bitterly staring at her medical padd.
"L'Aura," Banner said pleadingly, "I apologize for having such a short fuse at a time like this, but we have to find the captain before anything terrible happens to them."
L'Aura rose her head, eyeing the shaken First Officer curiously and with intense interest. For she knew that while Banner was deeply concerned for Captain Morris's well-being, the person truly foremost in his mind was Susan Green.
L'Aura blew a heavy sigh. "Very well, Gray. I'll assist Mr. Orion."
Gray smiled.
L'Aura then added quickly, "But the instant there's heightened activity in Sickbay, I'm back down here. Agreed?"
"Agreed. And...thanks."
"Don't thank me yet," L'Aura said. "There's a near infinite variety of alternate universes and quantum realities, Commander. Finding the one containing the captain's craft, even with my help, will be a long shot."
Banner nodded solemnly in total comprehension of L'Aura's precise meaning. But, as was her manner, the half-Gallifreyan went on to make sure he did.
"You must accept the possibility that we may never find Captain Morris and the others," she told him. "They may be lost forever."
Captain's log, supplemental. Being lost in some strange alternate reality is bad enough, but now we've been taken prisoner by the beings in command of this enormous ship, which we've come to know as the H.W.S. Voggath. It has more than 5 million crewmembers who are an odd mixture of species, some of which seem to be duplications of races within the Federation (human, Vulcan, Andorian, etc.); the rest are a rainbow of hues and an assortment of physical characteristics unlike anything seen in the Alpha, Beta, or Gamma Quadrants.
Also, there are a handful of robed individuals, whose features are hidden by hoods, being referred to as the Old Ones. Beings who, besides being very mysterious, command total respect.
Or is it fear?
As the Hegemony Inquisitors made their way through the dilating doors leading into the dark cell block wherein four people not of this reality were being held, Captain Morris was certain it was fear. For he now felt it.
"I don't like the look of this, guys," Sue said at the sight of the grim Inquisitors.