Writing Challenge- The winning entries.

The July/August challenge theme was:

The discovery of a new, non-anthropoid critter (or population of critters) causes sudden mayhem that Star Fleet must deal with.

STAR TREK: STRANGE NEW WORLDS

​

BIG SHOES


(2259)

Writer’s Note: This story has major spoilers for Strange New Worlds, especially the ninth episode, “All Those Who Wander”. PLEASE do not read this story if you care about SNW spoilers.


“You too, huh?” Wally Ainsworth asked, patting his growling stomach. Pulling herself away from a large bowl of noodles, the slender, Xindi-Reptilian looked up at him, and smirked.

“I was expecting…a feast,” she admitted.

“Me too,” Wally replied as he sauntered over to the food processor station. He quickly looked through the offerings, made his selection and inserted it into the slot. Once a steaming bowl of Cincinnati-style chili had been synthesized, he took it and a glass of water over to sit across from the still scarfing woman.

“I had heard that the captain greets new officers with a banquet,” Ainsworth didn’t hide his disappointment. The last time he had gotten an invite was shortly after he had come aboard Enterprise. The captain had had Commander Nhan, who was overseeing ship’s security at that time, arrange a gathering. And that had been several years ago. Pike wanted to break bread with all of the people under his command which meant it might take several more years the way new crew were always coming aboard if that to get a second invite.

“And a roundtable,” the woman replied, around another mouthful. She swallowed, apologized, wiped her mouth, and then offered, “My name is Dita.”

“Wallace,” Ainsworth replied. “But everyone calls me Wally.”

“It’s understandable that Captain Pike, nor the rest of the senior staff, felt like celebrating,” Dita replied. Wally nodded with grim understanding.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he offered. “I didn’t know Commander Hemmer, but he saved our bacon enough to be forever in his debt. His absence will be greatly felt.”

The woman nodded, a pained expression creasing her scaly features. “Some considered the commander to be gruff, but his personality was quite mild for my kind,” she smirked again, “Though I was wise enough to never tell him that.”

Wally chuckled. “Lt. Noonien-Singh wasn’t a walk in the park either,” he admitted. “But what she taught me, and the rest of Security, was invaluable. I just don’t know how…”

Dita waved away his concerns. “The captain also told you that you had ‘big shoes to fill?’”

Ainsworth blinked, “Why, yes.”

“He gave me the same speech,” Dita said. She pushed her bowl away. “It certainly doesn’t lessen the pressure any, does it?”

“No,” Wally looked down at the still steaming bowl. His appetite withered. “It doesn’t.”

“I think the captain meant to inspire us, but it felt more like a…warning,” the woman admitted.

“I took it more like a challenge,” Wally replied, though he wasn’t so sure if how Dita viewed the exchange wasn’t correct.

“However you processed it, we have a lot to live up to,” the woman said, nodding curtly to reinforce her point. “And it’s best to get to it.” She pushed back from the table, smoothed her unruffled red tunic, and made for the door. Wally was still eyeing the cooling bowl, willing his appetite to come back, when she called out, “What are you waiting on Mr. Ainsworth? It’s time to make our mark!”

****************************************************************

 

****************************************************************

“Make our mark,” Wally mumbled as he ambled through the empty corridor. He shook his head. Just how the hell was he going to do that on an empty vessel? After the trip to Deep Space Station K-7 to deliver vital vidium power cells and retrieving the survivors off Valeo Beta V, the Enterprise had returned to Earth.

Most of the crew had been given shore leave to mourn and recuperate. Ainsworth could’ve taken leave as well, but it didn’t feel right to leave the ship so soon after being promoted acting security chief. He knew that La’an never took time off, willingly, and he wanted to live up to her example. He intended to go over the vessel from stembolt to stern, so he knew every inch of the Constitution-class vessel like the back of his hand.

He knew that La’an, not to mention the even more intimidating Commander Chin-Riley would expect nothing less. Surprisingly even the first officer had left the ship. Wally knew that she and La’an had been close, so Noonien-Singh taking a leave of absence had to have hit her hard. Right now, it seemed like Enterprise was too filled with ghosts, even for the formidable first officer.

For no reason he was willing to admit, Wally pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. “How are things shakin’ Dita?” The other new senior officer had also stayed behind.

“Shaking?” The woman didn’t hide her confusion. “I’m getting no readings that the ship moved.”

“It’s a figure of speech, a human figure of speech,” Ainsworth explained.

“I…comprehend,” the Xindi said after a moment. “Everything is properly secured in Engineering. And the docking tethers are holding.”

Wally sighed. “I was just inquiring how things were going.”

“I have a lot of work to do to get Enterprise ready to disembark,” she answered.

“I suspected as much,” Ainsworth said. “Things couldn’t be slower here. There’s not much securing to do when there are only a handful of people onboard.”

“I’m sure the phaser rifles could use more charging,” Dita suggested. Wally wasn’t sure if he detected a teasing note in her voice.

“They always need more charging,” Wally rolled his eyes. He was holding off on doing that drudge work until he absolutely ran out of things to do.

“Perhaps, on your next round to Engineering, we could both visit the mess hall,” the woman offered.

Before Wally replied, he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Lieutenant Ainsworth?” Dita inquired.

“Oh, uh, hold on,” Wally said, wincing at leaving the woman hanging.

“Is something wrong?”

“Thought I saw something,” he said as he jogged to the end of the corridor. He looked both ways but only saw spotless floors. “I must be losing it,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“Oh, uh, nothing,” Wally said. Then he remembered. Smacking his temple, he said, “About that break, yeah, let’s do that.”

******************************************************************

Dita was already waiting for him, seated at the table where she had been sitting before. Instead of demolishing her plate this time, she was holding back, waiting for him. Wally forced the smile from his face.

Even though they were still on duty, with the ship so empty, it seemed almost like he was on vacation anyway, with Dita. Though he hadn’t told the engineer that. He wasn’t sure how he could even broach the idea, or even if he should.

He knew little about the Xindi outside of history vids and as far as he knew their relationship rituals excluded humans. Glancing at his naked ringer finger, Wally reminded himself that he didn’t know how to navigate human relationships much less interspecies.

He took a look at the jagged bones spiking through a mound of bloody meat on her plate, “Looks appetizing,” he joked. The woman scowled.

“What that human sarcasm, or what was supposed to pass for it?” Dita replied.

Wally chuckled as he sauntered past her on his way to the food slot. “Funny.” As he was fumbling for the right food card the lights flickered. He glanced over at Dita. “I know I didn’t imagine that”, he said.

Her leathery countenance creased. “No, you did not.” She lifted the communicator beside her plate. “Dita to Engineering.”

“Lieutenant,” a breathless voice cut her off. “Sorry sir, I was just about to call you,” they quickly added.

Dita frowned, but said, “Go on.”

“We just experienced a momentary fluctuation in the main EPS power grid that affected several decks,” came the speedy reply.

“Including the Mess Hall?” The Xindi asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Have you determined the cause for the fluctuation?”

“We haven’t,” the junior engineer replied. “Though I have initiated a level-one diagnostic to get to the source of the problem.”

“I will be back shortly Mr. Collins to oversee the diagnostic,” she replied. “Please proceed to take the main EPS grid offline.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Hey, cutting out on me?” Wally asked as the woman got from her seat. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and placed it over the half-eaten meal. “Duty awaits.”

“That’s duty calls,” he corrected.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he waved it away. “I was just hoping we could…you know…”

“Know what?”

“Uh, um, have lunch together.”

“That is…or rather was… an appealing prospect, but there is a problem with the EPS grid that needs addressing.”

“You think it’s that serious?”

“I can’t say, until I review the diagnostic data,” she replied.

“Fair enough,” Wally said. “Well, I hope it isn’t too much of a pain fixing whatever’s out of whack.” The lights had flickered for a second, so maybe it was just a harmless glitch.

Dita dipped her head. “I do…as well.”

He wagged the flood card at her. “Until next time, then?”

She smiled, “Yes.”

Wally turned back to the food processor. He was less excited about lunch, but he programmed a meal anyway.

He leaned over the processor, half-watching as the computer replicated the chicken and rice he had ordered. He was just realizing that the process was taking longer than usual when there was an bright flash within the synthesizer, forcing him to cover his eyes.

When he chanced looking, the inside of the processor was blackened, and his chicken and rice looked a like a charred lump. A lump that began to move.

Curiosity overriding common sense, Wally approached the synthesizer. He was activating his tricorder when the door burst open, and he registered more movement before he felt needles of pain.

************************************************************************

 

************************************************************************

When Wally came to, Dita was bending over him. The reptilian was running a tricorder over him. “What?” He said weakly.

“How are you feeling Lieutenant Ainsworth?” She asked.

“I,” he didn’t know how to answer that. He could only wince.

“You suffered a mild concussion, several puncture wounds consistent with bite marks on your face,” the engineer explained.

“Huh?” He blinked, confused, before the horrible memory came back.

“Something, something was inside the food slot,” he recalled. “It, uh, it attacked me.” He tried to look around for it, but the sudden movement made his head hurt. “Oh God, it wasn’t a Gorn was it?” He recalled the horror stories Lt. Noonien-Singh had told them about Valeo Beta V.”

“You’re still alive, so I doubt it was a Gorn.” Dita replied. Wally had to nod at that, and the realization that he hadn’t been become a human incubator for ravenous Gorn hatchlings calmed him immeasurably.

“Do you remember what this…creature…looked like?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head slowly, and wincing at the effort. “It was like a lot of teeth. What the hell?”

She frowned. “I hadn’t even made it to the turbolift when Collins told me about another energy spike in the Mess Hall. When I rushed back, I saw you on the floor, unconscious.”

“Damn,” he muttered.

“We need to get you to Sickbay,” she replied. She reached for her communicator.

“Hold on,” he said, grabbing her wrist, before he realized he was touching her without her permission. He recoiled like he once had after touching a hot phaser power pack. “Sorry.”

“This is more serious than a glitch,” Dita said. “You need medical attention, and we need to inform the captain.”

“It looks like the worst of my injuries came from me falling on my ass and cracking my noggin,” he said. Dita reluctantly nodded. “The bites are treatable.”

“We don’t know if they will become infected,” she replied.

“I’ll find that out, soon enough, but the idea of bringing the captain back from his vacation,” he shook his head. “This might not be so serious, could just be some bats in the belfry, if you catch my drift.”

“I do not,” the woman admitted.

“This could be some minor, space rodent-like infestation,” he said. For a second her eyes glazed over, with a look akin to desire. It freaked Wally out, but he played through it. “I mean, we were docked at Station K-7, we might have picked up some critters unbeknownst while there.”

“That is…plausible,” she admitted. “All the more reason to alert the captain.”

“Yeah, I’m not saying we shouldn’t tell the captain, it would be a dereliction of our duty not to do so,” Wally nodded. “I’m just saying we should tell him after we’ve solved the problem.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Okay,” Wally said. He slowly sat up. His head swam. He closed his eyes and pushed back the waves. “We both want promotions and solving this certainly miniscule nuisance could go a long way to making that happen.”

“This feels like something the captain should be made aware of,” Dita pushed back.

“And he will, after we’ve proved our worth to him and the vessel,” Wally assured her.

“I don’t like this,” the reptilian said.

“Understood,” Wally nodded. “But I don’t have to know much about you to reckon how hard it has been for a Xindi, a Xindi-Reptilian no less, to make it to the flagship of the Federation. People like to say they are high-minded, but old wounds simply leave scars.” The woman drew back, and he knew he had hit paydirt. “A Xindi-Reptilian as chief engineer of the Enterprise would go a long way to proving that the Xindi are as worthy of anyone else to belong in Starfleet.”

“And what about you?” Dita didn’t hide her suspicion. “What do you get out of this.”

Wally looked at his empty ring finger again. “Redemption,” he replied, thinking of his last assignment aboard the Starship Fidelity. Thankfully Dita didn’t press him, and he didn’t offer up anything more. “Captain Pike and Commander Nhan took a chance on me that no one else would take, and I feel I owe it to him, and her memory, to make good on that risk they took.”

Dita huffed. “Fine,” she said. “What do you propose?”

“First things,” he said. “I need some aspirin, and after that, we go snipe hunting.”

**********************************************************************

 

**********************************************************************


Wally’s headache was only background pain when he made the call. When the screen came on, his next wincing came from his heart, not his head. “Wally,” his ex-wife glowered at him. “What do you want?”

“Hey, Lucy, long time, huh?” He tried smiling but gave up. The redhead glared at him.

“You got five seconds.”

“Okay, okay,” Wally rushed. He told her a streamlined version of the troubles he had encountered. “You encountered anything like that aboard the starbase?”

The woman shook her head. She muttered, but speaking louder, “How you wound up on the Enterprise-the Enterprise-of all assignments, and I got stuck on a space station, it’s the very definition of failing upward.”

“We both made mistakes,” he said, his irritation overtaking his contrition, “And we both are paying for it. I just got a reprieve, but one I could lose, at any moment.”

“Why should I help you?”

“We were married once.”

“Again, why should I help you?”

“We’re still Starfleet officers,” Wally said. “And if you know something that poses a serious threat to this ship and crew, it’s your duty to report it. Mind you we are docked at Starbase One so lots of lives could be at stake.”

“Just like it’s your duty to inform your captain,” Lucy shot back. “But same old Wally,” she shook her head.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

She cursed, spat, and then said, “Describe what attacked you again?”

He did the best he could to recall the events. He swore there was a twinkle in her eye as he recounted his attack. Lucy twisted her lips in thought for a few moments, her freckled brow crinkling.

“Sounds like you’ve got plasmapedes.”

“What?”

Ignoring the question, she continued, “They are rare, hailing from a once inhabited planet in the Heki system. Best the brains could come up with is that the plasmapedes survived the intense climate change on their home planet by adapting to survive via photosynthesis. They feed off energy, the hotter the better.”

“Damn,” Wally muttered. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“It wasn’t attacking me,” he surmised. “When I came to my senses…” he paused and looked at her, “such as they are.” She couldn’t help but smirk at that. “My phaser and tricorder had been ripped open and rendered inoperative. It was going for the energy in my devices, not me.”

“Plasmapedes will attack humans,” she corrected, “with our body’s electrical impulses and all, but they prefer more concentrated forms of energy.”

“I see,” Wally said, but he was really muddling through. Lucy could see that as well.

“Like I said, plasmapedes are rare, but they can be very dangerous. Plus, the more they gorge, the more they reproduce. The idea of an outbreak of them on a station the size of Starbase One…”

She didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t have to.

“Well, I guess we better get bagging them then.”

“This isn’t a game Wally,” Lucy said. “If you don’t alert your captain or the starbase commander I will.”

“No,” he said. “You know, when I said I would never ask for anything in return for saving your life.”

“Don’t,” she shook her head.

“Sorry,” he replied. “But I need this. I need to make things right.”

“You can’t change the past, but you don’t have to screw up the future.”

“You got to trust me, Lucy.”

“I did…once,” she said darkly, “And look where it got me.”

“I can do this,” he declared.

“You got 24 hours,” she said.

“Oh, come on.”

“That’s it, Wallace,” she said. She always used his full name when she wanted to hammer something home. “That’s all I’m giving you. If you can’t solve it by then the Enterprise and the starbase might still have a chance to eliminate the infestation.”

“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion,” Wally said. “I mean, all we got to do is use the ship’s sensors and sweep them all up in a transporter beam, and voila.”

She sighed, “You always think things are too easy. The plasmapedes also developed an ability to evade sensors, which means you’ll have to go through the ship, find their nests, and flush them out.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

“They feed off energy, remember, so stun settings won’t work,” she replied. “And the more they feed the more incorporeal they can become, which means they can shift through three-dimensional objects.”

“Now, this is sounding less fun,” he admitted.

“Absent a complete shutdown, including your ship’s warp core, you’re going to have to use some kind of insect traps or repellant if you got it,” she explained. “And that’s only if you catch them before they start shifting.”

Wally thought for a moment, before grinning, “Yeah, we got insect traps and repellant, we’re the Enterprise!” His ex was less enthused. Just like the bad old days, he thought.

“Don’t take plasmapedes lightly,” she warned.

“I won’t.” He promised.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, be careful, okay?”

“I always take of myself.”

“Yeah,” her expression darkened. “And that’s what concerns me.”

 

**********************************************************************

Even though the door to her office was closed, Dita still whispered, “They look almost…appetizing,” she replied, surprising herself. After Lucy had sent him all the information, she had on the plasmapedes and he had rushed down to Engineering to share it with Dita.

Wally looked at her askance. The long, tubular, shiny, black-shelled insects, with countless legs, reminded him of Earth centipedes, except bigger and lot nastier.

Dita was viewing a picture of the creature’s face, with its open mouth full of small, but needle-like teeth. “If these insects primarily feed on energy, perhaps their mouths are like vestigial appendages.”

He touched his still tender face. “That thing’s teeth didn’t feel vestigial to me.” Though he had promised Dita he would get checked out by the nurse on duty, Wally had just eaten half-a-bottle of aspirin he already had in his quarters. From what Lucy had sent him there was no evidence that the plasmapedes carried diseases so he wasn’t worried about incubating the next bubonic plague.

“I apologize if I made light of your discomfort,” she looked at him. The genuine concern in her eyes was nice to see. It had been a long time.

“I’m good,” he replied, waving it away.

“Twenty-four hours,” Dita said.

“Yep,” he nodded.

“We should alert the captain and the starbase commander now,” the Xindi replied. “We can’t be certain if some plasmapedes have not already left the Enterprise.”

“Doubtful,” Wally shook his head.

“How can you be sure?”

“Nothing has come up in the routine status and security reports I’ve seen that sounds similar,” he said. “I think we’ve got time here to handle this.”

“Limited time.”

“Just gets the blood pumping is all.”

“And what your plan?” Dita asked. “The idea of shutting down the warp core is going to be hard to explain away.”

“True,” Wally nodded, “But we shouldn’t have to get to that point. If we shut down certain sections, as part of expanding that diagnostic already initiated by your man Collins, that can be our reason…”

“Excuse.”

“What have you,” he conceded, “But it if we shut down the power throughout the ship, deck by deck we can force them to be where we want them to be. They’ll scurry right into our insect traps.”

“And you’re sure they’ll hold?”

“I’m trusting your engineering skills here,” he smirked.

“If we start shutting off sections of the ship, what’s to say they won’t all just rush to Engineering?” Dita pondered with a frown. “I’m surprised they just haven’t done so already.”

“Thus far the pickings have been pretty good for them throughout the ship,” Wally shrugged. “Maybe they aren’t as greedy as Lucy thinks, or they don’t want to kill their golden goose yet, anyway.”

“Do you think a Level 10 Forcefield around the warp core will keep them out?”

“Only one true way to find out,” Wally replied with a shrug.

“You already know about my unease, but I don’t like implicating Ensign Collins in this, or the rest of my team. They’ve foregone shore leave to assist me.”

“As has most of my skeleton crew. All they need to know is that they are corralling some pests.” He held up his hands. “Which isn’t a lie.”

“It isn’t the full truth either,” Dita glowered.

“It’s close enough, and when we handle this, and show the captain what we are made of, both of our teams will get to share in the glory.”

“So you say.”

“Why do you put it like that?”

“I’ve looked up your service record,” Dita said. “The Fidelity.”

Wally pulled within himself. “I don’t want to talk about that,” he said sharply. The woman wasn’t put off by his sudden brusqueness.

“You expect me to trust you, when that didn’t go so well for your former crewmates.”

Wally looked away from here, unable to meet her gaze. “You’re right,” he admitted. His voice sounded far away, even to him. “I failed a lot of people and I’ve been working hard ever since to prove I’m still worthy of this uniform. That’s it, that’s all. Please, let me have the 24 hours Lucy gave us.”

The reptilian was silent for a long while. Almost too long. “Okay,” she said softly.

“Okay?” he repeated, in part because he didn’t believe she had said the words. “Okay!” He jumped out of his chair, hugged the woman, and kissed her pebbly cheek. She shifted smoothly in his grasp until she faced him.

She kissed him a long while. But not long enough.

*****************************************************************


Lieutenant Ainsworth’s head was swimming again, but this time not from pain. There had been a tryst or two here or there, even while had been aboard Enterprise, but no one had kissed him with such intensity since Lucy, and even then, the last time was in the early days of their marriage.

After he had they had disentangled, Wally felt a smidgen of guilt about the position he had put Dita in, but he didn’t share that with her. If things went according to plan everyone would win.

As he stood before his security team, he also felt a bit bad for pulling the wool most of the way over their eyes too. “Sir, are we sure those boxes can hold these…what are they called again?” Pulido asked. Of course, it had to be her.

“Plasmapedes.” Like clockwork, Chiang chimed in. Before she left, Noonien-Singh suggested, and Wally concurred that running buddies Pulido and Chiang needed less shore leave after their last trip to the starbase.

“Oh, yeah, whatever.” Pulido shrugged. Wally bit back a retort and simply shook his head.

Dita and her engineers had constructed several duranium boxes. Inside each was an energy net. The theory was that the hungry plasmapedes would be drawn into the boxes because that would be the only energy nearby and that it should distract them long enough to be placed in stasis or blown out an airlock. Wally hadn’t made up his mind yet which.

“This sounds a lot like that light virus we all got from Hetemit IX,” Adams opined.

“Not quite,” Wally rebutted, “Though the solution isn’t too much different. Lights out, but this time we are doing it to draw the little crawlies out.”

Moncuse shuddered, “Bugs are so not my thing.”

“Never say that around our insectoid crewmates,” Wally admonished half-jokingly. Once the chuckles fizzled, he slung his phaser rifle over his shoulder and pulled his tricorder from his belt. Playtime was over. “Pulido, you’re with me.” Chiang looked forlornly at Pulido who Wally caught rolling her eyes. Wally would let that one go, this time.

“Chiang and Adams, Javins and Moncuse, here are your sections.” He pressed a button on the tricorder and transmitted the information. The guards quickly looked it over. “Any questions?” Though the question was intended for the group, Wally looked directly at Pulido.

“No,” she said, with an askew smile. If Nhan or Noonien-Singh were in his stead she wouldn’t be so cavalier, Wally thought. She didn’t respect him, but maybe, that would change after he pulled this off.

“Alright,” he said, injecting as much confidence in his voice as he could muster. “All we got to do is set up the boxes and then let the fish jump right into the barrels.”

“Piece of cake, right?” Pulido smugly asked.

He couldn’t wait until he got the nod from Pike so he could remake the security department in his image, and hopefully have it shipshape when Lt. Noonien-Singh came back. Though to unease, Pulido was more like himself than he cared to admit.

*****************************************************************

 

*****************************************************************

“What was that noise?” After waiting for what felt like eternity, Wally was getting jumpy.

“That’s just my stomach sir,” Pulido replied drily. “I’m famished. How much longer are we going to be stuffed inside this tube?”

“Until the job is done,” he said curtly. His patience was wearing thin as well. Where were the little buggers? They had set the box up by the EPS conduit, open and ready, but so far, no takers.

Wally checked in with the other teams. None of them had netted any plasmapedes. He looked at the chronometer on his wrist before contacting Engineering.

“Engineering, this is Lt. Ainsworth,” he said, trying to sound officious. He definitely didn’t want Pulido getting a whiff of his feelings for Dita.

“Wally,” the Xindi’s tone was crisp. “You haven’t captured any of the plasmapedes.”

“How did you know?”

“Because”, she paused, and then sighed, “They are all here, already inside the warp core.”

****************************************************************


“Great Bird of the Galaxy,” Wally whistled as he saw the long, tendril like insects swimming through the plasma-bleeding heart of the Enterprise. “How can they survive that?”

“They can’t,” Dita said, after looking up from the main engineering console. “They are crawling to their deaths, in massive numbers.”

“Okay, problem solved,” Wally replied, rubbing his hands. “That was easier than I thought.”

“You don’t understand,” the Xindi hissed. “There are too many of them. Eventually they will clog the intermix chamber and trigger a warp core breach.”

“What?!” Wally spat.

“We need to initiate a full plasma flush right now, or we will have to eject the warp core to prevent a breach.”

“We can’t do either of those things, not docked inside Starbase One.”

“I know,” the woman said, “that’s why we need to move the ship out to a safe location to initiate the purge.”

“Neither of us has that authorization,” Wally replied. “And if we attempt to do so on our own all kinds of klaxons are going to go off. We’ll be keelhauled out to space along with those creepy crawlies.”

“That’s why we need to go to someone who has the authority.”

“Come on, we can still figure something out, right? I mean, if they are all inside the core now, can’t you just turn up the juice a little and cook them all?”

“I would have to deactivate the warp core containment field, which would irradiate a good portion of the ship before it triggered a warp core breach. There’s no choice here. We’ve run out of options.”

“Damn, I’m sure you can come up with something.”

“Its out of our hands now,” the woman replied.

Wally scowled. “What do you mean by that?”

He just had to ask. “Lt. Dita, we’re ready to disembark, prepare to go to impulse on my command.” The voice was authoritative, vaguely familiar but he was drawing blanks. He looked askance at the engineer, but she barely met his gaze.

“Who is that?”

“Admiral April,” she finally answered.

Wally blinked. Not sure he heard her correctly, he asked again. She gave him the same answer. April, the first skipper of this vessel. The legend who had mentored Pike. This was even worse than going to the captain.

As if reading his mind again, April spoke again, “Chief Dita, is Lt. Ainsworth with you in Engineering?”

“Ah, yes sir,” she said, looking guiltily at him.

“Tell him I would like to see him up on the bridge,” April paused, letting the portent linger, “pronto.”

***************************************************************


This was one invite to Pike’s office that Wally wasn’t looking forward to. When the doors parted there was no alluring smell of food cooking or the pleasant sounds of laughter, conversation, or glasses clinking.

The room now felt as stark and solemn as the broad-shouldered man sitting behind the desk. Captain Christopher Pike was back home. He didn’t stand up; he didn’t offer or gesture toward a seat. Without preamble, he asked, “Mr. Ainsworth why did you almost destroy my ship?”

Wally blubbered for a long time. He did his best to put the blame on himself and keep it off Dita. Pike listened intently, his expression unchanging.

Pike did offer Wally a glass of water after the man had finished, but the security chief declined. He had run out of words because he was spent, not thirsty.

Pike tugged on his golden tunic. “You know, Mr. Ainsworth,” he paused, “Wally.” Wally wasn’t sure that was a good sign or not that the captain had used his nickname. “Nhan put a lot of trust in you, and I trusted Nhan. La’an initially had less trust in you, but you earned your place on her team. So much so that I thought you would be a good replacement until Lt. Noonien-Singh comes back from leave of absence. This could’ve been a good career booster for you, could’ve led to a security chief posting on another starship or starbase.” He shook his head, his expression pained. “I just hate it when people torch their opportunities, especially when you worked so hard to claw yourself back.”

Wally wanted to defend himself but found he couldn’t. All he offered was, “Sir, I didn’t want to endanger the ship and the crew, or Starbase One. I thought, foolishly, arrogantly, that I could handle this, and that it would help my career, as well as the ship.”

“You weren’t in this alone,” Pike offered. “Lt. Dita has taken full responsibility. She’s offered to resign her commission over this.”

“Sir, I’m damaged goods, but Dita, she’s…she’s special,” Wally pleaded. “Do what you must with me. Even if that means I got to crack rocks in the stockade. That’s where the board of inquiry probably should’ve sent me anyway after the Fidelity.”

“Believe it or not, Admiral April put in a good word for you. You assisted him ably, working the navigator station while he steered the ship out into open space.” He smiled. “He said it was the most fun he had in a long time.” It had been quite the fireworks show after Dita had vented the entire ship of plasma. April had ordered the main viewer to magnify on the frozen remnants of plasmapedes to insure they had been successful. Unfortunately, they only had power left to maintain life support, and just barely, so it was left to the accompanying Achilles to phaser sweep away the bugs and drag the Enterprise back to the starbase.

“Sir, if my resignation can ensure that no one else has to suffer for this,” he plucked the delta badge off his chest. “You have it.”

Pike held up a hand. “Hold your horses Mr. Ainsworth.” Wally gulped down the rest of his plea. The captain picked up a slate gray PADD and read from it. “Lt. Wallace Hamish Ainsworth…” Uh oh, Wally thought. Things always went downhill after they started off reading your full name. He tuned back in as the captain was saying, “Upon my recommendation, and endorsed by Admiral April, we recommend you be transferred, with a reduction in rank to lieutenant junior grade to the Federation Merchant Service.”

“I…I can’t believe it.” He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

“When I gave you this job, I told you, you had big shoes to fill,” Pike said. “Some people can rise to meet that challenge, while others, can’t, and that’s okay. You still have a ways to go on your journey Mr. Ainsworth, but I think your skills are better suited in a less…stringent service than Starfleet.”

“Alright,” Wally replied slowly, not sure if he should feel insulted or not. He stuffed his own ego to the back of his mind. “What about Dita?”

Pike nodded, his lips drawing tight. “I didn’t accept the Lieutenant’s offer to resign. She’s not ready to take on the full responsibilities of chief engineer, especially for the Federation flagship, but her understanding of her limitations as well as understanding when to ask for help, albeit it late, proved to me she has the makings of a great Starfleet officer.” He frowned, “but alas, that’s not meant to be.”

“But you said you didn’t accept her resignation.”

“I didn’t,” Pike replied. “But she didn’t feel like she deserved to serve on the Enterprise anymore and requested a transfer. I disagreed, but I granted her request.”

“Captain, if I may ask, where is she going?”

Pike sat back. A smile played across his lips. “Mr. Ainsworth, who do you think gave me the idea of sending you to the Merchant Marines?”


THE END


***********************************************************************

 

September/October 2022 "Caught 'Twixt Dawn and Shadow"
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Prologue
"Abject Normality"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

USS Challenger, NCC 86218, location Drydock 3, Newport News Orbital Shipyards, Earth
Five days after the Concordia Incident

“Come in,” said Gabriel. Connie stepped into the ready room, blue and white wide-brimmed hat in one hand and an oversized engineering PADD in the other. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress.

Connie paused to listen, and frowned at the music Gabriel had playing. “What are you listening to?”

“Henry Mancini.”

“Who?”

“It’s called music, Commander. You should try it sometime.”

Connie ignored the comment, stepping over to the desk and handing Gabriel the PADD.

"Lt. Garcia-Shapirez and the engineering Alpha Team tracked down that phase variance that was plaguing the tractor beam systems. She assures me that the problem has been permanently resolved."

Gabriel gave the information displayed on the PADD a cursory glance before setting it on his desk. "With the Flynn-Fletcher boys working for her, not to mention the rest of the team, I've no doubt it's been fixed.” He gave Connie a quick once-over.

"Unless that's a uniform variant I've not seen, I assume you're eager to start your shore leave. What’s on the agenda?"

"If you must know, I'm going to visit my grandmother, in Japan."

Gabriel tilted his head slightly as if in thought. "I've never been to Japan. I understand it's a remarkable country."

"It is," said Connie, her frown deepening. "Due respect, sir, don't get any ideas. Besides, after what happened during that little ‘detour’ through the Nakira Maze on the way back from Concordia, I deserve some peace and quiet."

"I’m sure the crew and refugees on board the Gutenberg will be happy to apologize for delaying your shore leave by a day. Oh, and don't worry, Commander, I'm not going to horn in on your leave. I'm a big boy; I'm sure I can find something or other to amuse myself for the next week and a half." He turned his attention back to the engineering PADD; after a long moment, he looked back up at Connie. "Was there something else, Commander?"

"I was..." Her lips tightened. "Ah, no sir."

"Best hurry along then, before that transporter beam leaves without you," Gabriel said, waving dismissively towards the door. He resumed reading on the PADD.

Connie opened her mouth to bite off a caustic comment, but – deciding she really didn’t want to get into another shouting match – instead spun on her heel and left without a word. Gabriel's eyes flicked up as the door hissed shut; a moment later, he turned the music back up, and Connie was all-but-forgotten.

 

Chapter One
"Permanent Vacation"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

USS Challenger, outside Cetacean Ops

Dr. Lorien Ari was engrossed in her PADD and didn't notice the turbolift slowing; the hiss of the doors opening snapped her out of her reverie. The turbolift doors slid open and Lt. Mokul stepped in. He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of knee-length board shorts with a beach towel tossed casually over one shoulder. His normally tousled black hair was.. well, it was still tousled, but it was rather wet. Lorien took a slightly longer than appropriate look at the Romulan's chiseled physique, though Mokul didn't seem to notice, or if he did, it didn't bother him. Come to think of it, Lorien remarked to herself, as she turned her attention towards his face, there really wasn't much of anything that seemed to bother him. Mokul was remarkably unflappable.

"The pool is on deck 16," she said teasingly.

"Yeah, but I don't like the feel of the water. Besides, Ha'arsui and I were swapping surf stories." Mokul grinned. "He's a real hot dog. Next time we visit Seareach, we're going to hit the waves together. It'll be bodacious."

"Why not go surfing together here on Earth?"

"Ha'arsui has relatives near Alaska that he'll be visiting," Mokul said. "And he said something about salmon."

"What are your plans for shore leave, Lieutenant?"

"Surfing. I'm looking at weather and ocean current patterns for this time of year to decide if the best surf will be at Diamond Head or off the Great Barrier Reef. Tough call; both look like righteous choices."

"I've never known a Romulan to be so.. chill."

"We're a passionate people, no doubt. But I've learned.. well, it would be a lot easier to show you."

"Show me?"

Mokul looked over at Dr. Ari, lost for a moment in the dark pools of her Betazoid eyes. "What are your plans for shore leave, Dr. Ari?"

"To be honest, I'd not thought much about it," she smiled. She waved the PADD. "I've been wrapped up in clearing out some old files."

"Come with me, get a little beach therapy."

She thought for a moment. "Why not?" she shrugged.

"Pack light. Swimwear, something light and casual when we're not in the water, a few essentials. I'll meet you in shuttlebay two."

"Where are you going?"

"To get my stick."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

USS Challenger, shuttlebay two

As Lorien stepped into the shuttlebay, she saw Mokul sealing a specialized cargo pod that was mounted to the top of a type-21 shuttle.

"What's in the pod?" she asked, setting her small bag down.

"My stick."

"Stick?"

"Surfboard," Mokul said. "We surfers have our own lingo."

"You keep a surfboard here on Challenger."

"Several. All handcrafted. This one's my favorite, though, an authentic Hobie Alter longboard from earth, vintage 1953. She's never let me down."

"What about me?"

"We'll rent you one when we get to the beach. I think we'll go to Le’ahi - Diamond Head."

"Hawai'i, nice. And you're going to teach me how to surf."

"Well, I'm going to try. Easy to learn but hard to master, as they say..." He looked over at her, a mischievous look in his eyes. "You can swim, I hope?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the shuttle descended towards Hawai'i, Mokul and Lorien engaged in casual conversation.

"It's all like an ocean, Doc. Time, space, life... it ebbs, it flows... We can use it, but we can't control it; we can only control how we react to what's thrown at us. Respect it, honor it, and it'll reward you, but ignore it, abuse it, exploit it..." He shrugged. "Wipeout."

"So you pilot as if you're surfing, using the natural phenomena of space to get the most performance out of your craft?"

"Well, Challenger is totally a surfboard..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Some time later

In a rare lull in the surf, Lorien and Mokul sat on their boards, talking.

"Out of all the places I've been, Diamond Head has the bluest, clearest water I've seen. It's rare that it's calm like this, but there's a profound lesson here."

"Which is?"

"When we're calm, at one with the world around us, it's then that we can see with the sharpest focus. Such moments are fleeting, but worth striving for and taking advantage of when they occur.

"Look," Mokul said, indicating the water around them. Lorien did so for a long moment, a smile teasing the edges of her lips.

"It's like I can see forever.. where I'm going, where I've been.. and the clarity. It's astounding."

"Totally." He sighed, smiling at the same time. "But it doesn't last, so you have to keep chasing it. Like the perfect ride." Mokul said, turning his board away from the island. He started paddling towards the open ocean, and Lorien followed suit. Shortly, she felt the change in the sea's motion that she'd quickly learned indicated a wave was forming.

"It's going to be a big one," grinned Mokul as he positioned himself. "Do you think you can ride it, wahine?"

"Watch me."

It was, as Mokul had predicted, a big one. Mokul took the lead, paddling perpendicular to the wave, then rising to his feet in a smooth, practiced motion. Lorien was not quite as smooth, but got up without too much trouble. They raced ahead of the wave, its thunder like the roar of a freight train behind them. Mokul cut back across the face of the wave so he could fall into the tunnel of water it formed and 'shoot the curl'. Lorien managed to keep ahead of the wave, letting Mokul's motions guide her.

A few minutes later, they lay on the large blanket they'd spread on the beach, their boards stuck in the sand behind them. The surfboards cast lengthening shadows as the sun slowly sank into the western sea.

"That was incredible. Just.. wow."

"Not bad for a gremmie. Keep it up, you'll be a full-fledged Betty in no time."

"That's Doctor Betty to you, mister." They both laughed. Lorien sat up, turning her dark eyes to Mokul. "Seriously though, thank you. That was an experience I'll not soon forget. And Romulans are a passionate people, though the lesson was delivered in a rather roundabout but thoroughly fascinating manner.

"I've heard Betazoids can be pretty passionate too," Mokul remarked lazily.

"We can," said Lorien, abruptly straddling Mokul and kissing him. "Now, it's my turn to show you..."

 

Chapter Two
"Warning Shot"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Red alert!” Connie barked. “All hands, battle stations!” The bridge lights shifted to red and the alert klaxons started wailing. “How the Hell did we miss the launch?”

“No idea, Commander,” replied Lt. Priest as she jumped over a railing and slid into the tactical pit seat. “Combat holographics online, weapons hot. Challenger is cleared for action.”

“Blessed Hell!” Connie swore. “I’ll have someone’s head for this!”

“Recriminations later, Commander,” said Gabriel as he stepped out of the turbolift and tugged on his uniform jacket. "Kill that noise, and let’s deal with the situation at hand.” The klaxons cut off instantly. As he took the center seat that Connie had just vacated, Gabriel turned his attention to Lt. Priest.

“Talk to me, Goose.”

“Multiple contacts, making a hard burn for high orbit,” she said, ignoring what she assumed was another of Gabriel’s oddball quotes. “I count 19 craft.”

Gabriel turned to Connie. “Get all our birds in the air,” he said curtly. As she turned to relay the order to Challenger’s CAG, Gabriel called to Lt. Avallios.

“Squawk on repeat, all channels, all frequencies: Alter your course and return to the surface. We will fire on any ships attempting to breach the Branson-Bezos Limit.”

“No idea if we’re getting through,” said Avallios, “but we’re broadcasting.”

“Challenger,” Gabriel hissed. “Countdown, bogies’ time to the Limit.”

One minute, replied the ship’s computer.

“The interference is fluctuating!” called Avallios. He jabbed at his console. “Still can’t tell if we’re getting though. One of them seems to be trying to transmit something…”

“Can you piggyback on that, warn them off?” Connie asked.

“Encryption I’ve never seen before…” Avallios’ fingers danced. “Not enough time to crack it.”

Thirty seconds.

“Fire a warning shot,” Gabriel ordered. At the shot, six ships fell off; several of Challenger’s fighters swooped in to shadow them to the surface.

“Thirteen ships remain,” Connie stated.

“Lt. Priest, disable their engines.”

“No good, sir. Their momentum will carry them over the Limit.”

Ten seconds.

Gabriel swore softly in Celvan'nath. The Universal Translator didn’t catch it, but Avallios’ eyes widened at Gabriel’s choice of invective. "Lieutenant, destroy those ships."

Lt. Priest bit off a curt "aye, sir" as she targeted the thirteen Concordian ships and opened fire. Challenger's ventral saucer phaser arrays lit up, ruby beams lancing out in quick succession. Nine of the ships blossomed into fireballs of silent death, but four craft were able to breach the Branson-Bezos limit.

"Shit."

The scene around Lt. Priest froze, and Challenger's voice stated flatly, "Simulation failed. Elapsed time from order to weapons fire 4.72 seconds."

"Shit!" Erika stomped a foot in frustration. “Run it again.”

Simulation failed. Elapsed time 4.54 seconds.

“Shit! Run it again.”

Simulation failed. Elapsed time 4.88 seconds.

"Shit. Run it again."

Simulation failed. Elapsed time: 4.53 seconds.

"Shit. Run it again."

Simulation failed. Elapsed time 5.08 seconds.

"Shit! Run it again."

Simulation failed. Elapsed time 4.46 seconds.

"Shit. Run it again."

Simulation failed. Elapsed time 5.23 seconds

There was a long silence, then: Would you like to rerun the simulation?

"How long have I been here?"

Approximately four hours standard.

"Average time elapsed for the simulations I've run?"

4.78 seconds.

"What was the best time?"

4.46 seconds. The lowest number of ships that breach the Branson-Bezos Limit is three.

"What is the probability that I'll improve on either score?"

Minimal. I'm sorry, Lieutenant. Lt. Priest spun and stabbed an angry finger at the holographic Capt. Frost.

"How in the f&%k did HE manage to target and destroy those 13 Concordian ships in less than two seconds? It just doesn't make sense." She stalked over to the command chair and stared the hologram straight in the face.

"How did you do it?!?" she yelled. Her voice echoed through the holographic bridge.

"Replay as it occurred," she said quietly. There was a slight blur as the hologram reset. Erika focused intently on Gabriel's face as the scenario played out.

"...transfer tactical control to conn, aye" she heard herself say. She saw Gabriel blink twice, but she noticed something else.. "Stop, rewind five seconds, slow to 1/16 speed." Gabriel's eyes darted across the tactical display in front of him, and Erika realized he was somehow individually targeting each Concordian ship. She pulled up data-logs from the Incident: each ship was tagged with a phaser lock at his merest glance, targeted with clinical, no, inhuman precision and destroyed the same way when Challenger opened fire.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I think Gabriel Frost is an Augment," Erika stated flatly. Adm. Durham cocked an eyebrow disbelievingly. Lt. Priest stood at 'parade rest' in front of Durham's masive black tritanium desk. while the Admiral relaxed with a chilled glass of Romulan ale.

"Indeed. And, ah, how did you come to this particular conclusion?" She showed him what she'd discovered on the holodeck.

"I've known Gabriel and his family for a long time," Adm. Durham said. "Hell, they're descended from 'Bulldog' Bateson! I can guarantee there's been no illegal genetic augmentation to Gabriel or any member of his family."

"Then how? His tactical scores from the academy are, well, calling them pitiful would be generous."

Durham's face remained impassive. "Taking things a bit personally, aren't we Lieutenant? I know your own scores are extremely impressive, but..."

"But what Frost did is.. well, coming from him, impossible!"

"I do not care to be interrupted, Lieutenant," Durham said coldly. "Gabriel's Academy performances were.. lacking in some areas, but he's since taken great pains to improve in those areas that needed it. I wouldn't have put him where I did otherwise.

"Also, you seem to forget that he designed Challenger's computer's operating parameters, not to mention the ship itself. He has, shall we say, a special relationship with Challenger. Rather unique, actually. It's all classified well beyond your pay grade." Durham coughed. "You'll forget I said that.

"Regardless of what Capt. Frost is or is not, the simple fact remains that he is your commanding officer, and I expect you to comport yourself accordingly." Durham paused, lowered his voice. "Except in such circumstances as you have been individually briefed on.

"Am I clear, Lieutenant?" Erika snapped to attention.

"Crystal, sir. My apologies for bothering you."

"This one's free, Lt. Priest." Durham's voice went from neutrally warm to void-cold in a nanosecond. "The next one will cost you." He took a sip of the Romulan ale, grimacing slightly as it went down.

"Stay off the holodeck, Lieutenant, and go enjoy the rest of your shore leave. Dismissed."

 

Chapter Three
"And What the Shadows Yet Conceal"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tombstone, Arizona, Earth

Tombstone, Arizona (about thirty miles north of the Mexican border) was still a tourist trap, even in the 24th century. However, and rather fortuitously, the town and the famous Crystal Palace Saloon was sparsely populated at the moment.

"You are a rat bastard, havin' me meet you here." Kayleigh Holliday slugged the Jynnan tonnyx in front of her and deftly refilled her glass, all without taking her eyes off the man seated across from her.

"This location is closest to the Slide." He had an odd accent, sounding like a Briton who'd had an extended stay in America, or vice versa. He was dressed very professionally, though his suit was of a design that seemed just shy of out of date and a step out of fashion.

"Bullshit. Flagstaff is closest to the Slide, since Radiator Springs doesn't exist anymore in this timeline. But you and the other Minutemen seem to love gettin' your jollies by makin' jokes about my ancestry." She emptied and refilled her glass again. "So I'm descended from Doc Holliday, so the Hell what. Havin' me meet you in Tombstone - Tombstone, of all places - is low-hangin' fruit."

"We think our last meeting in Flagstaff was observed by the Royalists."

"And this is your idea of inconspicuous?"

"They'll think it too absurd for us to actually do it."

"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."

The gentleman scowled. "Do I have to remind you..."

"No," she interrupted. Her eyes flashed with a sad anger. "No, you really don't."

He changed the subject somewhat. "You missed your last two reports, and the one before that was significantly delayed."

"Yeah, bein' on the other side of the freakin' galaxy will do that." Drink, refill. "And the Celvani really don't share any sort of information with anyone not named Gabriel Frost." She slid an isolinear chip across the table. "I very nearly got killed gettin' this."

The man took the chip and inserted it into a device that looked like a knockoff of a tricorder, and took a minute to review the data. "That's all?"

"Next time, I'll let myself get killed, and you can interrogate my corpse." Drink, refill. She sighed. "If you combine that info with the last batch, it should go a long way towards makin' the Weapon."

"I'm not certain it'll be enough."

"It'll have to be, at least for a while. Sweet Jesus, your boys cooked up the Slide.. shouldn't be too much of a stretch to make the Weapon."

"There are.. complications."

"You ain't just whistlin' Dixie, brother." Drink, refill. "Considerin' that he's, shall we say, sensitive to temporal matters, it's a hell of a trick keepin' Capt. Frost unaware." Drink, refill. "I'm doin' my best, I swear."

"The Council is not as, ah, confident of your efforts. There are suggestions that you've gone native." He looked around, tried to sound sympathetic. "After seeing this timeline, I could understand."

"I'll rip the nuts off anyone who says I'm not committed," she hissed vehemently. "I know what's at stake. Speakin' of which..."

The man touched a button on his not-quite-tricorder, and a small monochromatic hologram appeared. It was a young girl, wearing a simple (read: threadbare secondhand) dress. She bore a strong resemblance to Kayleigh.

"Hi mommy. I miss you!! I wish you could come home, but they say you're doin' important work for us. I know you'll do your best." The girl's eyes began to tear. "I gotta go. I love you!" The hologram winked out.

Kayleigh quickly wiped her own tears away. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You know what we need, and what you have to get for us. We can't change our timeline's past, but we can make a free future. But our window is closing."

"I'm tryin', dammit. God knows I'm tryin'."

The gentleman's device chimed. "I need to be going," he said. "Please see that your next report is delivered in a timely manner." He nodded in farewell, and left the Saloon. Kayleigh imagined she heard the sound of the Slide as it carried him back to her native timeline.

"Yeah," she said to herself, taking another drink. Her eyes were still wet. "I'll get right on that."

 

Chapter Four
"A Step Towards Yesterday"

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Come in, Cadet.”

The knock had been timid, but then, that wasn’t unusual. Despite the small brass plaque with precise black letters that read ‘PLEASE KNOCK’, people seemed hesitant to do so, or to do so with any significant force. Perhaps it was the nature of the door itself, lacquered Japanese cherry wood – the real thing, not replicated – with bright brass hinges and a well-worn but equally bright round brass doorknob. Such a door was rather unusual in any location, doubly so in the Rachel Garrett Faculty Office Annex on the campus of Starfleet Academy. Perhaps it was the larger brass plaque above the ‘PLEASE KNOCK’ that read, in equally precise black letters, ‘PROFESSOR SATO TATSUYA, XENOLINGUISTICS’, and the reputation for unyielding strictness that the name carried around campus. After all, nearly everyone who came to Prof. Sato’s door was a cadet, always young and often ‘wet-behind-the-ears’, as the saying went, and intimidated to one degree or another by the Professor.

The door opened slowly, revealing an attractive though somewhat mousey humanoid female, dressed in a casual outfit of Celvani origin.

"Actually, it's Lieutenant, sir. Lieutenant Rio Duran."

"Ah, Lieutenant Riovantra Duran'dhal." Prof. Sato smiled. "I remember you. This is quite an unexpected pleasure. Challenger's assigned area of operations is rather a far ways away."

Rio returned the smile. "We had to, had to return to the Newport News yards for some, some unexpected refitting. It seems Captain Frost put the ship - and, and her crew, admittedly - through tougher paces, paces than anticipated." She frowned slightly in contemplation. "We've had, had some tough scrapes, and lost some good, good people."

"Undoubtedly," Tatsuya replied. "Such is the nature of your chosen profession. And with Capt. Frost being a figure of prophecy to your people, that will most certainly bring additional attention."

"Hei, that's, that's very true. But I am, I am privileged to serve with the Third Traveller."

"Since you aren't in uniform, Lt., I'm assuming that Challenger's crew has the opportunity for shore leave whilst the ship is tended to?"

Rio nodded. "Hei." She reached into the large messenger bag she had slung over her shoulder. "Which reminds, reminds me. I have something for you." Rio pulled a book from the bag. It was on the smaller side, but very thick, and obviously of considerable age.

"This is the Irami Alentar, a tome, tome of Celvani lore." Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "What you would, would call myth and legend, legend, we call history."

"All a matter of perspective."

"Either way, I'm sure you'll find, find it most fascinating." She proffered the book, which Tatsuya took reverently. "The cover is designed, designed to resemble the storied Corvander's Gate, innermost bastion of the, the Celven'thal ren Artharos, the Haven.

"If you, you recall, when I visited before leaving, leaving the Academy, I'd mentioned one, one of our sayings."

"Ah yes. 'Between the hammer and the anvil, the sword is forged'."

"This book holds the tale, tale of the origin of that saying, and many, many other stories besides. This, this copy was penned in the years shortly after, after the Second, Second Dragonwar, so..."

"How old?" he whispered.

Rio took a moment to do some silent calculations. "...six, six thousand years, give or take a few decades."

Tatsuya moved to hand the book back. "I cannot possibly accept such a gift."

"Consider, consider it a long-term loan, then. The tales herein are, are known the length, length and breadth of Celvanos. As you read, read and study, perhaps you, you will find insights into your own, own culture. At the, the very least, you will find the linguistic aspect of the book, book to be most intriguing."

Tatsuya unhooked the worn silver latches and opened the book, turning the pages as delicately as if they were butterfly wings. The script was fading by varying degrees in several spots, but not enough to render the text unreadable. He very gently rubbed a corner of one of the pages between his thumb and middle finger.

"Is it.. paper, or a vellum of some sort?"

"The pages, pages are paper from the ironwood tree, tree. They have been, been treated with a mithranium-infused solution to, to preserve them over the years. We Celvani are gifted with, with very long lives, and it wouldn't, wouldn't do to have our books fall, fall apart too quickly."

Tatsuya took a long moment to study the text on the pages he'd opened to. There was more than a passing similarity to medieval illuminated texts. Absolutely incredible, he thought. "This is a form of Celvan'nath that I'm unfamiliar with," he remarked.

"Much like, like Earth's languages, the grammatical conventions of Celvan'nath have, have evolved over time and have been, been affected by geopolitical concerns. This, this tome was written by a distant ancestor, ancestor of mine as our family, family was migrating to Crystelliar Trye." Rio fished a slightly larger, decidedly more modern book out of her bag.

"This will help, help you understand the particularities of, of the writing in the book. Though," she said, "I suspect, suspect you'll get more enjoyment out of the, the challenge of deciphering the stories for yourself."

"You are quite correct in your suspicion, Lt." He took a long look at the volume in his hands, noting the astounding amount of detail on the cover. "And rest assured, I will treat this as the treasure it most certainly is."

Rio smiled. "Hei, I know you will." Tatsuya bowed deeply.

"Domo arigato gozaimasu," he said. "I cannot thank you enough.

"Could I, however, persuade you to stay for lunch, Lieutenant?" he said. "I know you said the story of your hammer and anvil saying is in this book, but I would be most honored to hear it told, and in your native tongue." He smiled again, a bit sheepishly. "I would appreciate the practice."

"It would, would be my pleasure, professor..."

 

Epilogue
"Night Falls, and There is Silence"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

USS Challenger, NCC 86218, location Drydock 3, Newport News Orbital Shipyards, Earth
Ten days later

"What in creation are you listening to now?"

"Apologies, Commander. I'll submit my music library to you for approval as soon as I can. It's Gershwin, by the way."

"I come back to the ship after ten days, and you're still in that chair with the same PADD in your hand. Don't tell me you were here or on the holodeck..?" Gabriel gave Connie the half-smile that irritated her something fierce. "Blessed Hell, Captain, did you actually even leave the ship?"

"I did." He paused retrospectively. "I'm still not sure if it was a good idea or not."

Connie shook her head slightly while rolling her eyes. "I don't want to know."

"I wasn't going to tell you," he said coolly. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

Gabriel set the PADD on his desk and cut off the music. "Get settled quickly, please. I need a report on ship and crew status within one half-hour standard, and issue an Urgent recall to any personnel currently not on board."

"Sir?"

"I know we'd promised the crew an additional two days of leave, but there's a situation at Takkin Gauto that requires our attention. Challenger needs to be under weigh in 6 hours standard, less if possible." A hard flint crossed Gabriel's eyes. "Less is ideal, Commander."

"What do I tell people when they ask why?" Connie asked, a touch more sharply than she'd meant to.

"Tell them it's an order from their godsdamned commanding officer," Gabriel bit off harshly, as he stood. "Command staff will be briefed en route. We..." A non-Starfleet-standard tone sounded, interrupting Gabriel. He tabbed a control on his desk, and a voice began speaking rapid-fire in a sharp language she'd never heard. It sounded female, thought Connie, though she couldn’t be certain; it did however have an almost musical quality. Gabriel's jaw tightened. Once the voice had finished, Gabriel barked a guttural sound that Connie could only assume was a reply; it was followed by the chirp that indicated the comm line had closed.

Gabriel reached behind him and retrieved his well-worn ma'asti leather holster, buckling it around his waist before taking his Celvani thrustergun from a secured desk drawer. He paused for a brief moment, his eyes closed, and then strode purposefully for the ready room door.

"I have a matter I have to attend to before we depart," he said tersely, sliding the antique but still deadly weapon into its holster, "but I'll be back very shortly." Connie stood silently for a moment; before she could reply, Gabriel fixed her with a hard glare.

"You have your orders, Commander. Make it happen."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kanryou

 

Here's my winning entry for the May/June 2022 challenge: The TOS Trio:


TheLoneRedshirtCommodore:

Here's a challenge, that's narrower in scope than most, but hopefully a fun and challenging . . . challenge.
Write a story that features Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. You can bring in other characters, but those three must be featured. It can be dramatic, funny, tragic, laid back, etc. - your choice. No word limit, but I suggest a short story rather than a novella. Deadline to submit your entry is June 26. Voting will end June 30.



Star Trek Original Series
The Transplant

The Transplant​

“The last time I fixed one of these things, it was with plaster of Paris,” groused Dr. Leonard McCoy. “I’m a doctor, Jim, not a head shrink - no matter how many times you try to drink me into shrinking your head. The brain is more of Spock’s area.”


The 8th moon of the 8th planet in the A Boo star system had been cleverly dubbed OctOctABoo by the mining engineers who had recently abandoned this place. They had brought a mother horta with them to populate the moon with the tunnel-making species that had revolutionized mining on Janus VI. It was a shocking violation of Federation law and the miners responsible for it would definitely have been on trial, along with their mining consortium, if they hadn’t been killed in a shockingly convenient cave-in back on Janus VI. That cave-in was currently being investigated by local authorities.


Because the U.S.S. Enterprise had been conveniently located in the sector and they had experience with the still mysterious, rock eating creatures native to Janus VI, Kirk and crew had been assigned to investigate the stranded creatures who had been transplanted to OctOctABoo.


“Spock hasn’t fully recovered from his encounter with their emotional trauma, Bones,” said Captain James T. Kirk. McCoy couldn’t argue with this. Commander Spock was seated on a rock, doing his best to mask an enormous headache after having mind-melded with a clearly traumatized horta. The emotional impact on the vulcan was harder to gauge, but McCoy had known Enterprise’s half-vulcan first officer long enough to know that his emotional control was nowhere near as ironclad as that of his father or any other vulcan. Advantage Spock in McCoy’s private opinion, but it was definitely slowing things down in this situation.

“Well, she hasn’t been aggressive toward us, nor have any of her surviving children, but clearly they’re not doing very well,” McCoy observed. “I haven’t been able to tell whether it’s something to do with the atmosphere in here - but this atmosphere is nearly identical to the tunnels under Janus VI. Temperature’s pretty much similar as well, so I’m guessing it might be nutritional.”

“Rock composition, Doctor,” Spock managed, then fell silent again.

“Will you just dry up until that vulcan brain of yours untangles itself?” McCoy groused.

“He isn’t wrong, Bones,” Kirk rejoined. “The rock composition here is also nearly identical to Janus VI.”

“So why were these mines abandoned, Jim? I’ll answer that… Copper. Bauxite. Lithium. The deposits they had hoped to find in abundance here on this stupidly named moon turned out to have been mined out long ago by the Andorians.”

“But the horta don’t eat metal,” Kirk responded.

“Neither do we - well - not much of it,” McCoy rejoined. “But take all the iron out of your diet and see how long your health holds out.”


Spock looked up, clearly wanting to join in the conversation, but deciding not to. He could already tell that McCoy was aware of his objection to this line of reasoning.


“But that doesn’t pan out either, Bones,” said Kirk. “The large deposits have been mined out, but the horta don’t feed on rock heavy with ore. The trace elements in the general rock around here are almost exactly the same as Janus VI.”

McCoy sat down on another rock in exasperation. “I know, I know.” The mother horta, who had been avoiding Spock ever since the vulcan had broken their only partly successful mind-meld, shuffled over and huddled next to the Enterprise’s chief medical officer. Almost unconsciously, McCoy reached out and gently patted the creature. This contact seemed to somehow comfort her.


The three officers from the U.S.S. Enterprise fell silent. Spock sat one one rock and gently massaged his temples. McCoy sat across the small cavern from him, petting what appeared to be more of a rock than an animal. Captain Kirk paced back and forth between them.

The mother horta vibrated slightly.

“Well, you seem to have made a friend, Bones,” Kirk observed. “It sounds like she’s purring.”

Spock looked up.


McCoy looked up.


Kirk stopped pacing.


“Jim… You don’t think…” McCoy started, only to find Spock and Kirk both looking at him, expectantly. McCoy rolled his eyes. “It’s not environmental or nutritional… It’s cultural!” He kept petting the vibrating mother horta.

“Jim, these are intelligent, social animals,” McCoy continued. “She’s lonely. Not just that, she’s concerned for her children. They need interaction with more their kind. They need their community. Spock already established she wants to stay here, because her children were born here… We were alerted to this situation by a group of exobiologists studying the horta back on Janus VI. Maybe they can identify an older adult horta, maybe also a few juveniles who would be willing to relocate here and help this family reconnect with their culture. Provide a peer group for her children. And some adult company for her.”


“See Bones?” said Kirk. “I knew you could figure this out…”


“Why Doctor,” Spock added, “I never expected that you would become a horta-culturalist.”


McCoy boggled at the vulcan sitting across from him.

So did Kirk: “Spock? Did you just… make a pun?”


Spock raised an entirely innocent eyebrow.

The Transplant by Robert Bruce Scott​

 

The challenge was: "Pets"

This is my entry for the January/February 2023 challenge (Pets):



Star Trek Enterprise
Episode 25: The Avatar

25
The Avatar​

“The last time I fixed one of these…” There was a thump and the U.S.S. Enterprise slid sideways.

“Trip?” asked Captain Jonathan Archer. He was standing near the door to his quarters, speaking into the comm system. When the ship lurched, it threw him off balance, but he maintained his footing. “Trip??” he asked again, then: “Woah” as he experienced a heavy color shift. For some reason the comm unit and the wall it was attached to was moving farther away and the floor was much too close. He only gradually realized that his face was wet because he was drooling. All the colors in his darkened, grey quarters were far too bright.


T’Pol was on the bridge, in the captain’s chair. She saw the wave coming from behind her and to her left - saw it even though her eyes weren’t oriented toward it. As the wave passed through the bridge, the bridge crew crumpled. T’Pol had to filter out the brightness that each of them experienced. It was hard enough for her to filter it out and only with a supreme effort she managed to stay in the captain’s chair.


The U.S.S. Enterprise was drifting further into some sort of gravimetric field that was causing a problem with the functioning of the brains in the ship. And the warp field had collapsed. There was nothing wrong with the warp engines - they were still running - but the nature of this region of space resisted warping. And the only way to get the Enterprise free from this field would be to adjust the warp field. That’s what Commander Tucker had been thinking just before he collapsed.

T’Pol could read each last coherent thought from each crewmember as if they were words hanging written in the air. This was fortunate - she had a good understanding of what needed to be done to reconfigure the warp engines to actually create a useful warp field in this region of space. And thanks to Ensign Travis Mayweather’s attentive tracking, T’Pol knew which way to point the warp field to get the Enterprise clear.

There was only one problem - her mind could range all over the Enterprise - see things that any opened pair of eyes could see - read the last coherent thoughts in every mind. But T’Pol was paralyzed in the captain’s chair. And everyone else, including Doctor Phlox, had collapsed and was equally helpless to move.


Dr. Phlox was still thinking - although much more slowly than T’Pol. “Other minds. Simpler minds…” It took T’Pol several minutes to figure it out. In part because Phlox was thinking very slowly and his mind was still slowing down. Each brain was taking the effects of this field differently.

Other brains! Dr. Phlox had a menagerie of very simple animals - none of which would be of any use. Their bodies were not up to the job - but more importantly they were all trapped in cages. As, unfortunately, was a sleeman Phlox had recently acquired - an animal not entirely unlike a spider monkey. But its relatively complex brain was also frozen by the effects of the gravimetric anomaly.




The same effect that had paralyzed his best friend had somehow made so many things clear to a small beagle. The first thing he needed to do was to get free from this room - which he had known how to do for a very long time. A quick jump and his nose to the pad. It was only now that he realized it had to be his nose and not his paw because the door-pad was heat-activated.

He was already on his way to engineering because that’s where his best friend had wanted to go. Normally, he would be licking his best friend’s face, but he could feel Captain Archer’s desire to go to engineering so strongly that he headed there himself. The lift was just a short gallup down the hallway and the same nosebump was able to summon it. But the moment it arrived, he realized that it wouldn’t take him anywhere unless he could speak the destination.


“Woof a WOOO wer…” “Weer woof wer wer…” “Weeer a woooo wooo…” “Woof woo Wer whine…” Porthos finally laid down on the floor and let out a long, pathetic, high-pitched whine. He didn’t even know why he had to go to engineering or what he was going to do when he got there, but he had never been so frustrated that he was incapable of articulation in English.

The lift was going nowhere. The lift door wouldn’t even close without a destination. He would definitely have gotten a piece of cheese for this performance. But the lift wasn’t going to give him any cheese, either.

Something in his little doggie brain remembered the mocker. It was in Med Bay - always imitating the doctor’s voice. Porthos had no idea how to get the strange little lizard-like creature to say “Engineering”, but one thing at a time.

Fortunately, Captain Archer’s quarters were on the same deck as Med Bay, which was just a quick gallup around the corner. Porthos panicked the lizardish mocker (and the rest of Dr. Phlox’s menagerie - and had he known it, Dr. Phlox himself) by jumping up onto the table and pushing the little cage down onto the floor.


“Flurfburgle!!! Pibbit! Pibbit!! Pibbit! Flurf!! Flurf!!” the mocker started shouting, in an astoundingly accurate imitation of Dr. Phlox’s voice.


Not that Porthos really understood cursing, but it was just as well he didn’t know Denobulan. Doctor Phlox, it appeared, had quite a filthy mouth when he thought no one was listening.


The mocker continued to treat the beagle to a choice selection of Denobulan expletives until Porthos managed to push the cage into the lift. But the moment he got the cage and himself into the lift, the mocker very clearly, and in a surprising imitation of Subcommander T’Pol’s voice, said, “Engineering!”

As soon as the lift lurched into motion, the mocker subsided into a mild grumbling, consisting of perhaps less vulgar Denobulan cursing. When the lift stopped, the mocker said, once again in T’Pol’s voice, “You have to take me to the main engineering console.”

Porthos had less than no clue what Mocker T’Pol was talking about, but he gamely pushed the minuscule lizard’s cage around Engineering until the lizard said, “Get me up on that thing.”

It was an impossible request. Porthos couldn’t carry the cage in his mouth. He finally settled for pushing the lizard’s cage to the elevator and activating its control to take himself and the lizard to the 2nd floor, then pushing it across the floor until it could look down on the controls it wanted to see.

“I need you to turn the big green dial on that panel,” said Mocker T’Pol.

Porthos had no idea what green meant - he couldn’t distinguish green. But he made the heroic leap from the 2nd floor onto the panel and managed to scrabble a bare foothold on it.

“To your right,” Mocker T’Pol tried.

It was fortunate that Captain Archer had trained Porthos to perform a large number of tricks, some of which required him to understand right from left, up from down and even as esoteric a concept as turning a dial. There was a significant amount of trial and error and it took several minutes before he was able to position the dial (and a number of other controls) to Mocker T’Pol’s satisfaction.


The little beagle was exhausted when Mocker T’Pol asked him to take the cage to the bridge. But he was also a determined little doggie and with tremendous effort, managed to push the cage back into the lift, from which Mocker T’Pol could order it to the bridge.




T’Pol had been busy on the bridge while talking Porthos through the delicate manipulations of the warp field modeling system. She had to manage an astounding intellectual challenge (because the one brain on the Enterprise that she could not inhabit was that of Porthos) and at the same time gradually command her paralyzed neck muscles to move - less than a millimeter at a time - until she could see the helm station directly in front of the captain’s chair. The physical effort just to move her head a tiny bit at a time had her dripping with sweat.

Her voice was still paralyzed, so she had to use the mocker to give Porthos instructions, but at least he could leave the cage on the lift.


Somehow, Porthos realized that his labors were about to bear fruit and he bounded with renewed energy to the helmsman’s chair and put his front paws on the helm station. He had to use his nose for most of the controls as they were heat-activated. It was a bizarre trio - T’Pol’s eyes seeing the controls - her voice coming from the somewhat lizard-like mocker that was still inside the lift, and the small beagle at the helm, setting course and engaging at warp 2.



It only took about 15 minutes for the U.S.S. Enterprise to break free of the gravimetric anomaly, but it took much longer for the effects to wear off.



Trip had a pounding headache as his head had smacked the wall rather hard on his way down. Jonathan Archer was pretty much unhurt, but grossed out by the enormous amount of his own drool that had gone from his mouth, onto the floor and onto the side of his face - and into his hair. T’Pol’s neck muscles were screaming in agony from her effort to move her head while she was paralyzed.

Travis Mayweather had a terrible cramp in his left hamstring because his leg had folded in a weird position when he had slumped out of the helmsman’s chair.


Lt. Hoshi Sato took it on herself to return the mocker to Med Bay and was scandalized at the stream of profanity (in Denobulan) that erupted from the upset little creature. When Dr. Phlox received the animal from her, he was mortified as its tirade continued unabated - it turned out Phlox was also capable of swearing in several other languages - a talent that the mocker had picked up from him and was only too eager to display.


Alas, poor Porthos could feel his overworked little doggie brain slowing down to a more normal amount of synaptic activity - things that had seemed so bright and clear to him moments ago were becoming more mystifying. He understood less and less of what he had accomplished. But two thoughts did remain quite clear in his little beagle brain:


He was a very good boy.

And someone owed him a big block of cheese.

The Avatar​

 

A lot of fun, especially for a big ice cream and chocolate fan, such as myself.

-Will

 

March/April 2023 Challenge - The Morning After

Star Trek: Atlas - 4. The Morning After

Captain’s Quarters, U.S.S. Atlas
Stardate: 38321.1

As Bruce Keller’s eyes opened a searing bolt of pain shot through his optic nerves and into his brain releasing a groan of protest as he closed them tightly again. His head was suddenly swirling and he felt sick to his stomach though had no idea why, it felt like the time at the Academy he and his quad had gotten drunk on Saurian brandy and Aldebaran whiskey—the hangover afterwards being known as the ‘warp core breach’ forever more. But the night before he hadn’t even had a synthale.

After his shift had finished, he’d headed to the mess hall for dinner, then returned to his quarters where he showered and changed into something more relaxed than his uniform, and then headed for the ships lounge. The previous day had marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Oberth-Class Mark-II U.S.S. Atlas, which had seen a celebration for the milestone among many the officers and crew. Unfortunately, with the Atlas on assignment inside the Theta Maelstrom, they didn’t have the luxury of docking at a starbase and allowing all sixty-six onboard the chance to take place in the festivities—especially not when they were still studying the M-Class planet they currently orbited.

He'd opted to keep a clear head, to allow his crew the chance to cut loose and enjoy themselves, so just how he felt like death warmed up was a mystery. The last thing he could really remember was Commander Celan, his first officer, enthralling all those in the small off-duty lounge with her rendition of traditional ballads from Delta IV, after that everything started to get hazy.

Rubbing his forehead, he chanced opening his eyes once more and pondered of the rest of the crew were fairing. As he gingerly rose his head off the pillow, the bed shifted. For a second he though the ship had been hit by a shockwave, but as he looked to the other side of the bed he found the source.

A prone body, entangled in the sheets, lay beside him, causing him to sit up too quickly and making the room spin. He whimpered and rubbed his tight temples, trying to wrack his brain about what had happened the night before and what would have spurred him to take one of the crew, his crew, to bed! Professor Somak would not have endorsed such fraternisation between a superior and their subordinates, she had drilled it into all her students that a commander needed to maintain an emotional distance with their crew, but here he was in bed with one of them.

Maybe nothing happened, he tried to convince himself, even though he knew he was naked and there were most definitely signs that it hadn’t been an innocent slumber party.

“Frak,” he hissed quietly.

Very carefully, he slid out from under the sheets and got, unsteadily, to his feet. Tiptoeing into the bathroom he looked at his reflection to see dark bags hung under bloodshot eyes. He splashed some water on his face and ran his hands over his close-cropped sandy-brown hair.

He looked at himself. “What happened last night?”

His mirror self wasn’t forthcoming with any new information.

From the next room he heard his unexpected guest stir, grunting in pain—by the sounds of it feeling just about as good as he did. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. This was always going to be awkward, no matter when it happened, so he decided it was better to just get it done and over with.

He grabbed his robe from its hook just inside the bathroom, hiding his modesty, before stepping back into the bedroom. On the bed the familiar copper hair caught the light of the systems star, making the textbook example of bedhead shine.

Keller cleared his throat, causing Lieutenant Commander Htennak to turn towards him. The Ktarian looked as groggy as he felt, but realisation quickly dawned on his handsome face which turned paler as his eyes grew wider.

“These aren’t my quarters,” he stated.

“No, they are not.”

“Any clue as to why I’m naked in your bed, Captain?”

“I wish I knew, Counsellor,” he admitted, trying to sound professional as the awkward tension saturated the air.

* * * * *

Officer’s Quarters, U.S.S. Atlas

Though she was suffering from an intense headache, a sensation Lieutenant Siraak was not overly familiar with, and her memories of the last few hours were proving problematic to recall, what was of greater concern was why Lieutenant Xan Na-Gharii, her former classmate and now shipmate, was currently snoring beside her. His long silvery-white hair fell over his broad shoulders and fanned out on the pillow whilst his arm was draped across her stomach. Even before she had opened her eyes and saw him lying next to her she could tell he was close, given how long they had known one another she knew his scent and going by just how it seemed to wrap around her like a cocoon she had to guess she was in his quarters.

Just how they came to be in this position eluded her, not that he hadn’t suggested it on multiple occasions, hardly surprising given the promiscuous nature of many Efrosians, though she had always turned him down telling him that she was already betrothed to another. She didn’t know if he could tell that was a lie, but he always made a point of pursuing her even when he was already involved with others on campus.

As she lay there, looking at one of the most handsome men she had even seen, a man who had seemed so smitten with her since the day they’d met as teenagers, she felt the corners of her lips curl upwards. There were many times she had imagined this, waking up beside him and it was just as she thought it would be, his resting face was even more beautiful when it wasn’t projecting the mask each of them wore during the day.

All she wanted in that moment was to roll over and be enveloped by him, to feel his sculpted physique rise and fall against her back and wrap his arms tightly around her. However, the discipline her father had drilled into her since her youth clawed at her psyche, telling her that it was wrong, that the very fact she was feeling anything was a danger and that it would lead to the truth coming out, and if there was one thing he had made abundantly clear it was that she needed to blend in and not rouse anyone’s suspicions.

With her father’s voice ringing in her pointed ears, she gently placed a finger in his temple and with some subtle mental manipulation encouraged a deep sleep cycle. She then traced along the line of his square jaw, feeling just how soft his beard was, which brought back flashes of memory from the night before, she knew the prickle of the facial hair as he’d kissed her—which only made her want to stay there more.

With a heavy heart, Siraak moved his arm off her body and got out of his bed. She quickly found the civvies she’d been wearing the night before (ever since the Atlas had been commissioned the ship’s lounge had had a strict ‘no uniform’ policy, to give the crew a space where they could relax and mingle in comfort) and dressed, before slipping out of Na-Gharii’s quarters, taking one last look at him from the doorway, and headed back for her own.

* * * * *

Officer’s Quarters, U.S.S. Atlas

The tangle of limbs Ruben de Boer had woken too meant that he was very much trapped in the middle of the bed. Exactly whose bed or how he ended up there was blank. Other than partaking in the ships anniversary celebration the previous evening he couldn’t remember a thing, including just how he had ended up naked and aching all over, wrapped up in between his former classmates Ensign Tathar on his right and Ensign Moll Idahn on his left.

As a cadet, he would never have imagined that he’d be in this position. Tathar was more than just their valedictorian he was the star of their graduating class, an almost heroic figure as he could do no wrong, everyone at the Academy had known who the Rigellian-Dervan was (his tall and imposing form also made him difficult to miss in a crowd), so pretty much the exact opposite of de Boer himself. He was very much a middling student, his practical test scores at the helm pulling up his grade point average, but he never liked being in the spotlight, never wanted any attention focused on himself. Idahn was definitely more on the Tathar side of the spectrum, the Trill being the daughter of two archaeologists she’d grown up on dig sites, so it was only natural she followed their passion into the field and had already had a paper published before she’d arrived at San Francisco. It also didn’t hurt that she was stunning by anyone’s standards, with honey blonde hair, dazzling green eyes, and full lips that always seemed to be smiling—even now as she slept.

Had this been just a few months earlier, de Boer would’ve been the envy of every trainee on campus, but there on the Atlas, their first posting as active duty officers, he felt just mortified. How he’d ended up between the pair baffled him, though clearly he was out of his depth, but he had no way to escape without being noticed.

Help, he begged the universe, hoping for some benevolent energy being to find him in that moment and transport him anywhere else. But no bright flashes or swirling non-corporeal entities appeared above the bed that was his prison.

No, that was being a little too dramatic. While he was stuck between the two, Tathar’s thick warm fur and Idahn’s smooth spotted skin felt great pressed against him, if he was to be trapped anywhere this definitely was not the worst place. Of course, that could well change once the other two woke up.

Tathar growled softly as he dreamt, the sound reverberated down his spine sending tingles along every nerve. Yes, there were definitely worse places to be at that moment.

* * * * *