STAR TRAKS: THE REDISCOVERED COUNTRY

by RPS


Disclaimer: Alan Decker owns Star Traks and its spin-off Star Traks: Waystation, and Anthony
Butler owns Star Traks: The Vexed Generation. Paramount and Viacom own Star Trek. I own a teddy bear.



 “It is my pleasure to announce that command of the USS Enterprise, NX-01 will go to…” 
Admiral Forest said on a podium, with Admiral Wagner to his left and Commodore Baker on
his right. “…Jonathan Archer!”
The crowd gathered around the podium jumped up and clapping erupted, while Archer, showing
enough embarrassment at the reception of the crowds adoration to be polite, walked up the
podium and shook hands with the big wigs standing there. He then went to the microphone and
made a quick speech:
“Fellow officers, thank you. When my father first thought…” But by this stage one of the
Starfleet officers in the crowd had already zoned out, not listening to the speech but instead
wallowing in the depths of his depression. As soon as Archer finished his rant and his duty as
an officer to be there and look interested was over, the person in question excused himself
from the proceedings and started out for the exit.
“Hey! Wait up Corn!” Corn, he hated the abbreviation. He hated his name. Cornelius Zachary
McAllister. What had his parents been thinking when they named him? He turned round, and saw
Admiral Wagner coming towards him.
“Look Corn, I know you’re disappointed by not being chosen to command the Enterprise, but I
think there might be a consolation prize.”


 “Here she is Corn. The USS Secondprize!”
That didn’t say half of it. The hull was several colours of the rainbow, the nacelles looked 
like they were about to fall off, and random jolts of electricity jumped off the ship into the 
air.
“And I’m here to see this because?”
“As you know, the Enterprise’s mission is to go out and explore the final frontier. To find 
strange new worlds and meet new races. But they won’t be able to stay in one place all the time. 
Another ship is being designed to build on the foundations laid out by the Enterprise, but until 
we’re finished we need someone else to do the job. The Secondprize is the same NX design, except 
it’s gone through most of the heavier testing. Plate integrity, meteor hits, hull decompressuring, 
the whole lot. And she can take it. New crew, all top notch. And all yours, light-years from any 
paper-pusher here on Earth.”  
McAllister looked up at the ship. It was his dream, his life ambition. He couldn’t turn back now. 
And he bloody hated paper-pushers.
“I’ll take it.”


 Two days later McAllister sat on the sofa in his house, very proud of himself. The next day he 
would meet his crew, and set off on the biggest adventure of his life. But for now he was 
satisfied with watching the launch of the Enterprise, the fastest and most powerful star ship 
ever in the history of mankind, on the holovision screen. With a beer in one hand and some crisps 
on the other he smiled. His family had finally stopped ringing with their congratulations, Ma 
and Pa had been so proud of their son gaining command of the second NX class ship to be commissioned, 
though he’d forgotten to tell them the thing was a piece of junk held together by two pieces of 
chewing cup and a hair clip. The launch show was over and he was starting to get bored. He went 
to his bedroom and started to read the technical manuals he was supposed to have learned for 
the officer training.


 The following day, McAllister got off the shuttlepod and for the first time walked on to 
his ship. It was ugly, it was broken but damnit it was a ship, and it was his.
“She’s a beauty isn’t she?” Admiral Wagner came out of the shuttle pod behind him.
“I wouldn’t go that far sir.”
“Oh, she just needs some paint. Come on, let’s get to your bridge.” The two men walked to 
the nearest turbo lift, and after getting stuck in it for 15 minutes decided to get out and 
use the stairs. When they arrived on the bridge they saw a few crew members running around trying 
to fix what they could, and a Vulcan Admiral and young lady standing in the middle waiting for them.
“Got your man?” asked the Vulcan Admiral.
“Sure is. Here he is. Let me introduce to you the first commander of this ship, Captain Cornelius 
Zachary McAllister.” A few of the crewmembers sniggered at the sound of the Captains first name, 
but stopped after a treating glance from McAllister.
“Good. This is T’Pal, soon to be captain of this vessel.” The Vulcan female and human male caught 
onto something. They pointed at each other and shouted, unrehearsed, in unison:
“Captain? I’m the Captain!” Turning to McAllister Admiral Wagner explained:
“Well you see, we couldn’t agree with the Vulcans who the Captain should be, so we each got a candidate 
and decided that we’d have a match of rock-paper-scissors when we met. We’re going to start the match now.” 
The two Admirals threw forward their arms vigorously and got ready. McAllister turned to the 
strikingly beautiful Vulcan.
“You want some dinner?”
“Sure, why not?”


 The dinner became a buffet reception when the rest of the crew started introducing themselves. McAllister 
spotted Mitch Hasselfreef over at the food table with the Leftenant’s strips.
“God no. Not him.” Hasselfreef was famous in the service: top of his class in anything theoretical, 
he’d completely bombed out on anything practical. The guy could formulate a perfect attack plan with 
limited resources against a superior enemy, yet when the time came to implement said plan Hasselfree 
was useless. As Captain of the ‘new’ ship McAllister decided he probably needed to introduce himself 
to the guy, but before he could say hello he was pushed aside.
“Hi gorgeous. And who are you?”
“T’Pal, I’m Captain McAllister remember? And aren’t Vulcan’s supposed to be logical and not get drunk?”
“Ahhh my friend, but getting pissed out of ones head is a perfectly logical thing to do. And anyway, 
I’ve got a twin sister on the other ship, the Enterprise, T’Pol. She turned out to be the good twin, 
I’m the evil one. Problem with that?”
“Not at all. Lets get you to your quarters, you’re drunk.”


 The next morning McAllister walked onto the bridge, and saw the two Admirals still at it. He went 
to the nearest crewman asking,
“Any change?”
“There was a breakthrough halfway through the night when Wagner’s scissors beat the Vulcan’s paper, 
but it’s the best out of five so they’re still at it.”
“Okay.” T’Pal then walked onto the bridge in her bra and panties.
“T’Pal, you forgot your jumpsuit.” She looked down at herself, confirming the fact.
“Stupid human alcohol...”
She was interrupted bu an Ensign at the communications console shouting out.
“Sir, message from Spacedock.”
He looked around, but seeing that Wagner and the Vulcan Admiral didn’t answer he took it upon himself.
“Put it on speakers.”
“Spacedock to Secondprize, you are clear to go.”
“Thank you Spacedock. Secondprize over. Helm, take us out. Ohhhhh! That felt good. Lets say it again.
Helm, take us out.”
The Secondprize screeched and squealed as she moved into the emptiness of space. McAllister just then
 thought of something important.
“Anyone have any ideas what our orders are?” He met the gaze of blank faces all around him.
“In Wagner’s pocket.” T’Pal, still in skimpy lingerie, said.
McAllister went up to him, and found a simple paper envelope in his left pocket.
He opened it, read the orders, and passed them to the Vulcan captain trying not to stare too much at 
the impressive figure she cut. The rest of the male bridge crew were failing at the same task.
“Seems easy enough.” T’Pal commented on the orders, handing them back to McAllister and walking to 
the front of the bridge. All male eyes followed the course her body made as she seemed to float down 
towards the Captains chair. “Helm, set a course for Nausicaa, maximum speed.” George Banks, the 
helmsman, just stared back at her, though whether this was due to the orders or T’Pal being one 
hot Vulcan in very few clothes McAllister didn’t know. His mouth opened and closed, though no sound 
came out of it, and seemed to take a while to compose himself.
“Nausicaa...isn’t that where the Nausicaans are...”
“Yes ensign. That’s where the Nausicaans are. I know they tortured and killed the last ship that visited 
them, and I know that they blew up the next ship that came near their space, but we’ll be fine. We’re 
going to pick up our Doctor.”
Banks continued to stare at him.
“Nausicaan...Doctor?” McAllister decided enough was enough, and intervened.
“Yes. Now lets get moving. T’Pal, in my ready room.”
The Vulcan stood firmly.
“Actually its my ready room, because I’m the Captain and you’re my first officer.”
“Now wait there. I was told I’m the captain and you’re the first officer.” They looked at the Admirals 
standing in the middle of the bridge. They were getting nowhere fast. “Okay. Lets go to our ready room.”
“Satisfactory.”
The doors to the right of the bridge hissed half-open, McAllister squeezed through okay though, to the 
delight of the male bridge compliment, T’Pal had to force the doors open further to accommodate her 
exceedingly large bust. When they got in they turned to face each other and squared off.
“I’m the Captain and that’s it.”
“No its not. Its my ship, my command.”
“There should be one person in command.”
“Agreed.”
“What do we do then?”
“Dinner, you’re place, eight o’clock tomorrow night.”
“Deal.”
The two Captains walked out. McAllister went and sat in the centre chair and T’Pal, extremely comfortable 
in her underwear despite the unwavering looks of the ships male compliment, went to Engineering to check 
on the Warp core.
 “Captain, cominguponNau’sicaa an’wearebein’ailed.” Ensign William Deer, the Communications officer, 
reported unintelligibly. 
“On screen.” Said T’Pal and McAllister at the same time.
The face of a large Nausicaan appeared on screen. His face was yellow with long black hair, he had 
sharp rugged features, and scared the living daylights out of several of the bridge crew.
“Kalemara ugh telyststiaru?”
“What do you want, Earth ship.” Deer translated for them when the Nausicaan had finished. McAllister 
got ahead of T’Pal before the Vulcan could think of a response.
“We’re here to...errrrr...pick up two crewmembers for my,” T’Pal nudged him in the ribcage, nearly 
winding McAllister. “I mean our ship. Medical Inter-World Exchange Program, and our science officer. 
Please.”
“Very well. You may transport him aboard, when he has finished his experiments.”
McAllister was interested.
“What experiments?”
“I believe he is testing his equipment on someone called Brodeur.”
“Err...I believe Brodeur is my science officer. Would you tell him not to kill him in the next 
five minutes?”
The Vulcan and the human then headed to the transporter room. When they got in McAllister saw his 
Transporter chief, Leftenant Quince Blanch, leaning over the desk. No, he wasn’t leaning, he was more 
like hunched over it. When they entered he let out a squeaky evil laugh, showing a set of crooked teeth.
“Tranthporter ready thir.” There went the laugh again. He reminded McAllister of a mix between the evil 
sidekick of a mad professor and the Hunchback of Notre Dame.
“Maybe we should tell them to use a shuttlepod...”
“Agreed.” T’Pol marched out of the transporter room and McAllister followed her to the shuttlebay. 
When they got there McAllister went to a panel on the wall and hit the comm button.
“Bridge, this is the Captain. Tell them to use a shuttle pod.”
Hasselfrees pompous voice answered.
“Use a shuttle pod, aye sir.” Minutes later an old shuttlepod landed in the bay. When the door to the 
shuttle pod opened McAllister went towards it.
“Welcome aboard the Secondprize...”
“Get him away from me! He’s a madman! Torturer!” Brodeur ran and hid behind McAllister, leaving the 
Nausicaan doctor standing stupefied inside the shuttle pod.
“I needed to know if the things worked!”
“Well test them on your...mother. I’m out of here!” Brodeur came out of hiding and ran out the doors.
T’Pal was confused.
“What’s his problem?”
“No idea. Welcome aboard doctor...”
“Hjfawqinvjsaopna, but my friends call me Fawqin.”
“Okay. I’ll show you to sickbay.” Fawqin followed McAllister out. When they got to sickbay they found a 
medic with a tricorder over Brodeur.
“Oh no, an injury! Fear not, I have arrived!” Fawqin moved into his job.
“What’s his problem nurse?”
“He twisted his ankle coming here.”
“Twisted ankle? What a pity. Get me the big saw, we’ll have to amputate.”
“No!!!! I feel much better now. I can walk see?” Brodeur tried to get up and walk, but fell to the floor. 
“See. I’m fine. I’ll go to my quarters now.” Brodeur ran out again, deeply in pain. 
“I’ll give you a lollipop!” Fawqin shouted after the retreating officer. McAllister just shrugged this 
off and quickly showed Fawqin around sickbay.
“That’s your office, there’s some beds, there’s some equipment and there’s the big needles and such. 
Well have fun, and I’ll be off.” 


 When McAllister arrived at the bridge he found T’Pal barking out orders, with the accompanying insults.
“You, big nose, get me some coffee. Helm, move your butt and set course for Earth. Tactical, stop being 
lazy and scan behind us. Bridge to engineering, get me Warp drive now or I’ll come down there and smack 
you so hard your own mother wouldn’t recognise you.”
“Nice command style.”
“It works.”
“What are our orders now?”
“We’re supposed to go back to Earth to pick up some more crew.”
“Okay-dokey. I’ll be in my quarters.”
“Fine. You, get your hands out of there and...” T’Pal was off again at some innocent crewman. McAllister 
went to the turbo lift and headed for his quarters.


 Two hours later McAllister heard the door chime.
“Enter!”
The door opened revealing T’Pal in a rather revealing dress, if there was enough material on her to call 
it that.
“Well you look nice.” McAllister managed to close his mouth before he started drooling.
“Thank you. Can I now come in?”
“Sure. This way.”
McAllister led T’Pal to a table set for two. T’Pal gracefully sat down as McAllister fumbled with a bottle of wine.  
T’Pal started the conversation.
“I’ve been intrigued by human sports. Do you like Kickboxing?”
“Yeah. Sometimes it’s good. Proper violent sport kickboxing is.”
“Good.” T’Pal then stood up and lunged at him. She then proceeded to kicking him in the stomach, with a few jabs to 
his face.
<So much for a romantic dinner.> McAllister thought as he began to fight back. He started with a failed blow to her 
chest, which instead ripped the few strands of material holding her dress together. To McAllister’s simultaneous 
embarrassment and delight the whole dress slid off her to the ground.
“Hey, easy now, its only the first date!” The human Captain said.
Undisturbed, T’Pal got up and kicked low. McAllister put his hands down and fell back.
“Uhhhhh. That hurts! Uhhh, uhhhh!” To T’Pal this seemed normal.
“It appears that I have hit you rather hard in the genitals. Do you require medical assistance?”
“Uhhhh god. Uhhhhh god.” Seeing the Captain in evident pain T’Pal went over to the wall and clicked open a 
comm channel.
“T’Pal to sickbay.”
“Doctor Fawqin here Captain.”
“You are needed in Captain McAllister’s quarters.”
“On my way.”
T’Pal then just stood there, nearly as naked as the day she was born, waiting for the Doctor. When the 
Doctor did come in, the door opened and got stuck, allowing passing crewmembers to see two Captains: one 
with no clothes on, and one with his pants down with much attention being paid by the Doctor to the area 
the pants normally covered..
“That should be it. Captain McAllister, unless you engage in sexual activity in the next few days you’ll 
heal perfectly.”
“Uhhh...yes. Thanks Doc.”
“No problem.”
A crowd of crewmen and gathered outside the door. Undisturbed T’Pal shed the rags of what was left of 
her clothing and walked out. Brodeur whistled appreciatively.
“Shut it Brodeur or I’ll assign you to Sickbay.”
“No!!!” Brodeur turned white, and again did a runner. “Not him! He’s a madman!”
The commotion over several of the crewmen went on their ways, with mainly a few females leaving last 
in whispers and giggles.


 The next morning McAllister walked onto the bridge, with a really bad sensation in his now numb 
balls. He struggled over to the command chair where T’Pal was commanding the ship.
“So what are we doing?”
“We are on course for Earth. We will arrive there in two hours. At the moment we are passing a 
big nebula.”
“Oh fun. Lets go investigate.”
“But we’d have to stop and go off course. And anyway, it’s just a big ball of gas. Bound to be 
nothing there.”
“We’re a couple hours early anyway. We’ll make it.”
“Oh all right. Helm, get us to that stupid nebula thing, maximum speed.”
“Half impulse aye.”
The Secondprize proceeded into the nebula. The viewscreen started to go fuzzy, followed by 
complete blackness.
“Sir, we’ve lost hull polarization, most sensors and visual.”
“Try and get them on now!” turning to McAllister T’Pal barked out. “Well done cowboy. Now 
you’ve gotten us in this damn nebula and nothing works.”
“Nothing worked anyway.”
“But still.”
“Calm down. Helm, turn us around and get us out of here.”
“Okey-dokey Cap’”
Mitch Hasselfreef, at the Tactical systems shouted to him.
“Captain, I’m picking up a green fuzzy thing to our left.”
“Would you mind being more specific with ‘Green fuzzy thing’?”
“The sensors aren’t working now so I can’t.”
“Let’s just call it a Quantum Nebulae life form. What is it doing?”
“Let’s just call it Bob. Easier to remember plus I can actually spell that. It is getting 
closer to us, and I detect some strange radiation coming out of it.”
“Science?” Brodeur looked up, then back down at his console.
“To tell you the truth I have no bloody idea what Bob is sir. I’m having trouble getting 
my console to work here.” McAllister walked over and knelt down.  
“It’s because it isn’t plugged in. Try now.” The console lit up.
“Oh. Fine now sir. I can tell you that Bob is not a Quantum Nebulae life form, but a 
temporal vortex and were being pulled into it.”
“Crap. All engines, full reverse.”
“Sir, we’re not moving away fast enough.”
“Bridge to Engineering, give us more power now.”
No one answered. McAllister turned to T’Pal.
“The engineering crew?”
“They’re arriving on Tuesday.”
“Okay. You and Brodeur get down there. I’ll ruin things from up here.” As the two officers 
dashed to the turbo lift McAllister went and sat down in the Captains Chair.  He turned to 
Hasselfree.
“Any more on Bob?”
“Not much really. We’ll be sucked into it in about thirty minutes.”
“Well that’s just great isn’t it?”
“Engineering to Bridge. T’Pal here. We’re trying to get you more power.”
Suddenly there was a small explosion heard, and the ship
rocked. T’Pals voice came back on the channel.
“Okay, I suggest you never put lipstick into the dilithium chamber. I’m out of ideas.”
“Perfect, just perfect. Anyone for a game of cards till we get sucked in?”


 Commander Travis Dillon of the USS Secondprize moved over in his bed. On the other side 
was Lt. Patricia Hawkins. Suddenly the red alert 
lights and klaxons went off, and Captain Rydell’s voice came on over the comm. systems.
“All personnel to battle stations.”
Dillon woke Hawkins up and started to climb out of bed.
Hawkins took his arm and held on to him.
“I’m sure the ship will be fine without us.”
“Starfleet Regulation 7, paragraph 4 section B, all personnel will report to their battle 
stations when red alert goes off.”
“Can’t we stay?”
“Sorry.”
The two officers eventually got dressed and headed off to the bridge. When Dillon arrived 
he asked, “Report?”
“J’Ter sees ship come out of green fuzzy thing nearby.”
“Isn’t your name Jaroch?” Dillon hoped quietly, not wanting to face this guy again.
“No. I am J’Ter. I will kill everyone.” On his chair Rydell sighed. He knew it had been 
a bad idea to let Jaroch bang his head repeatedly off his console after the 15th time of 
losing at solitaire. J’Ter/Jaroch jumped across the room, knocking Lt. Hawkins down 
and went up to the tactical station.
“J’Ter kill unidentified ship.”
“Oh I’ve had enough of this. Dillon, you may begin singing.” Dillon had just starred 
in the crew production of the complete works of Gilbert and Sullivan. Despite being 
an obnoxious idiot the guy actually had a decent voice. Dillon advanced beginning a 
song from Pirates of Penzance, Jaroch/J’Ter turning white and backing away.
“J’Ter cannot stand Dillon. J’Ter surrender.” Suddenly the angry frustrated face left 
him and was replaced with Jaroch’s normal passive look.
“Captain, I am now in control. But I’m afraid J’Ter got off a shot before we stopped him.”
“Damn. Another first contact down the drain. Hail the weird ship.”
“On screen.”
“This is Captain Rydell of the USS Secondprize. I’m sorry about that shot, it wasn’t my fault.”
“Secondprize? I’m the Captain of the Secondprize!”


 McAllister had a pair of fours. He decided to bluff.
“I see Hasselfree’s 12 big ones and raise by 5 more.”
“I’m out.” Brodeur sighed and went back to his station. McAllister looked at Ensign 
Banks, but he just dropped his cards and went back to the helm. This left McAllister 
against Hasselfree. After several moments of staring the two men were interrupted by 
Ensign Brodeur.
“Sir, we’re just passing through Bob. I better get down to Engineering.” Brodeur went 
out past the tactical and went down the turbo lift. Hasselfree and McAllister got up. 
The security officer turned round and asked.
“What did you have?”
“Pair of fours.”
“Uh. Good bluff. I had two threes.” McAllister stared at the man before returning to 
his chair. And he thought he had a dangerous bluff. Suddenly the ship jolted.
“What was that?”
“I think the other ship fired at us. I can’t tell because that hit took out all of the 
sensors. Wait sir, they’re hailing.”
“On screen.”
“This is Captain Rydell of the USS Secondprize. I’m sorry about that shot, it wasn’t my fault.”
“Secondprize? I’m the Captain of the Secondprize.”
“No you’re not. I’m the Captain of the Secondprize.”
“No, I am.”
“I am.”
“I am.”
“I am.”
“I am.”
“I am.”
“I am.” Each time the phrase grew in volume till Rydell stopped it.
“This is getting nowhere. Tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.”
“I am Captain Cornelius McAllister of the Earth star ship USS Secondprize, NX-02.”
It took Rydell seconds to realise what was happening.
“McAllister? The McAllister? Wow! Sir, can I get your autograph or something. Better can I 
come aboard. Oh that would be great!” At his right Dillon shuffled a bit. Rydell noticed this
and turned to him.  “Yes Dillon?”
“Sir, Starfleet regulation 86, section A paragraph C, all personnel will minimise contact with 
people from alternate timelines or time zones. We’ve got to stop talking to them and help them get home.”
“But it’s the Secondprize. The original. It’s famous! Nelson, Napoleon, Cochrane, Surak of 
Vulcan, Jonathan Archer, McAllister, Kirk and Sulu. This is history before our eyes!” Dillon 
looked up to Hawkins for help.
“Dillon’s right sir. We’ve got to minimise contact and get them the hell out of here.”
“Okay, you guys take all the fun out of being Captain. Their ship’s damaged. Lets take it to
the nearest Starbase for repairs and then we’ll get them on their way. What’s
then nearest Station?”
“Waystation.”
“Good. We can visit Beck for a while. And Dillon can get to see his brother.” Commander Dillon
shuddered. “Get the other Secondprize in tow.”
“Yes sir.”


 Soon T’Pal came up from Engineering.
“So what’s up?”
“Bob transported us to the future, and we’ve been met by a futuristic version of the Secondprize.
She’s got us in tow and is taking us to a Starbase, Waystation I think he called it.”
“Acceptable. How are you for dinner tonight?” Several of the crew looked at them and giggled.
“No thanks. We’ll reach that Starbase of theirs before dinner and I expect we’ll be dining with them.”
“Very well. I’m going to get some sleep.”


 Commander Lisa Beck was tired. She rubbed her already tired eyes and nearly fell on top of Yeoman Jones.
“Wake up Commander. What did you do last night?”
Leftenant Morales turned bright red and turned away. Saved by the bell, his console started beeping.
“Commander, we’re receiving a hail from the Secondprize.”
Off the hook Beck tried to stand up right and look commanding.
“Okay. On screen.”
“Morning Commander Beck.”
“Good morning Captain. To what do I own this pleasure?”
“It appears that we’ve had a little accident and we’re towing the Secondprize to you.”
“Oh. Who’s bringing you?”
“We’re bringing the Secondprize.”
“But I though you said the Secondprize had a tractor beam on her?”
“She does.”
“Now you’re just confusing me. Lets talk about it when you get here. Waystation out.” She turned to Russell. 
“Can you scan them from here?”
“Sure thing, boss. It appears to be the Secondprize.”
“I know it’s the Secondprize. I mean is there another ship with her?”
“That’s it Commander. It is the Secondprize. The first one.”


 Captain Baxter went to his quarters, changed into some looser clothes and headed to the holodecks. 
It was good to finally be on vacation. He went down through the promenade passing a shop named 
“Dillon’s” something or other, pass some alien restaurant and into the holodecks. He turned on 
a beach program, laid down in the sand and started to relax. Then his communicator chirped.
“Baxter. What do you want?”
“Beck here. I want loads of money and a house in Risa but I ain’t gonna get that any time soon. 
The Secondprize will be docking soon. I need you to meet me at docking ring 7.”
“Can’t this wait?”
“I’m afraid not. Now get moving.” Another vacation down the drain. Baxter was really annoyed. 
Boy he’d give that Commander Beck a good verbal spanking when he saw her.


 “Sir, we’ve docked.” McAllister woke up in the command chair.
“Okay. T’Pal, Hasselfree and Fawqin, you’re with me. Brodeur, you’ve got engineering. Banks, 
the conn is yours.” The four officers met at the airlock and went through. When they got to 
the other side they didn’t’ see anything but a large corridor and a few people waiting for 
them.
“I’m Commander Lisa Beck, this is my first officer Leftenant Morales. This is Captain Baxter, 
he’s here on vacation. Captain Rydell and Commander Dillon will be transporting down shortly.”
“Hello. Good to see some normal faces. I’m Captain McAllister, USS Secondprize. This is the 
other captain of the ship, T’Pal, my Chief medical officer Fawqin and my Security officer 
Leftenant Hasselfree. Now could you get us the hell home?” There was a brief hum as a transporter 
operated and standing right beside them stood Captain Rydell and Dillon.
“I suggest we all get somewhere to sit, because my butt always hurts after being transported in.” 
With Rydell leading the way the group went to Waystation’s main conference room. Rydell started 
speaking. 
“It appears that Captain McAllister and his ship were transported here from the past. We need 
to get them home.”
Baxter quickly piped up, “Well you won’t be needing me for that...”
Dillon just reached the doorway as Baxter jumped from his seat.
“Oh no you don’t sir.”
“I’m on holiday. No uniform, no orders. I’m out of here!” Baxter pushed Dillon outside and 
ran past him.
“So much for his help. So how we going to get them home?” Beck wanted to know why she’d been 
brought into all of this.
“We need to get it to go through the same temporal distortion than it went through before, but 
to survive it we need to repair it a bit. It’s a long story, but let’s just say that J’Ter paid 
us a visit.”
“Is it really that simple, just send them back through the thing they arrived in?” Rydell asked.
“Yes Captain, I looked it up in Starfleet records. Captain McAllisters report informs us that was 
exactly what happened.” Jaroch said.
“And what about access to the station?” Beck inquired. “Did I lock them up in their ship or allow 
them to roam free?” Jaroch consulted a pad he was carrying.
“Says here you let them loose.”
“Seems a bit weird but okay, who am I to argue with history. McAllister, your crew can go around 
the Starbase as much as they like. I’ll get repairs going on the Secondprize.”
“Thanks.” McAllister flipped open his communicator. Rydell laughed at seeing the antiquated 
technology.  “McAllister to Secondprize.”
“Brodeur here.”
“Where’s Banks?”
“He went to the toilet.”
“Okay. How are things up there?”
“All hunky-dory sir.”
“Good. Authorise shore leave for everyone. McAllister out.”


 “He’s so handsome in person. Much more than in the pictures.”
“Who, McAllister? He did have the reputation of being a lady’s man.”
“Not him, Fawqin. Those eyes, the saliva oozing from his mouth, all those grunts and big muscles. 
Isn’t he the man of your dreams?”
“I think you need your head checked. Lets get you to sickbay.” Doctor Nelson led Yeoman Tina Jones 
down the promenade and grabbed for a medical tricorder.


 T’Pal was confused. She did not understand this technology.
“I want a glass of water.”
“Please specify: Cold, still, bubbly, hot, medium, mineral...”
“Cold Mineral.”
“Please specify: From Earth, from Antara, from Vulcan, from Betazed...”
“From Earth.”
“Please specify: From Canada, from Britain, from the Alps, from the Pacific.”
“From Britain please.”
“Please specify the source:the Pennines, from the Thames, from the Tees, from the Tyne...”
“Oh I give up. I want some orange juice.”
“Please specify...” Sparks came out as T’Pal kicked the replicators.
“Die you stupid repli...”
“Please specify: Dead, hurt, bleeding, in a coma...” The replicator disintegrated as T’Pal 
had grabbed a phaser. Suddenly alarms went off all over the Station. In a few seconds 
Lt. Russel was there with Security.
“Bloody hell!”


 “Are we ready to go?”
“Yes Captain. We’re clear from the Station, and the Engines are all ready.” McAllister breathed in. 
Then he choked and coughed for several moments.
“Get us to Bob. I’ll be in Sickbay.” The human Captain went into the turbo lift and headed down, 
leaving T’Pal in charge of the ship. When he walked into Sickbay Fawqin was dissecting a rabbit.
“That looks like fun. What are you doing?”
“Hello Captain. I am using this dead rabbit to create a culture of Anthrax, in case we meet some 
angry Klingons.”
“Very good. Shouldn’t the rabbit be quarantined behind a force field?”
“No, no. I’m told that Anthrax is quite harmless to humans”
“Ohh. Good. You don’t have anything for a cough do you?”
“The dangers of new environments Captain: the immune system isn’t ready so you end up getting pretty 
much everything. I think I got some monkey teeth from some Chinese guy some time ago. That should help.”
“I think I’ve got some cough medicine in my quarters. Thanks anyway, Doctor.” McAllister hurried out and 
headed back to the bridge. He’d have to live with the cough till they got back to Earth or it went away 
by itself.


 “Captain T’Pal, were in range of Bob.”
“On screen.”
“Err.... Captain, you sold the view screen to that Bradley Dillon guy for a glass of water.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot. Just head for the thing then.” The Secondprize shook as it came near the temporal 
anomaly, until finally they went through it. Seconds later they were on the other side.
“Well that was easy enough. Lets head back to Earth, maximum speed.” The Secondprize turned towards Earth, 
and headed back to its own time, and its own destiny.