ST: Gibraltar - Sumpta Vulnera
- Thread starter Gibraltar
- Start date
This was a good addition. I like this ship and crew. Wilt did a very good thing in how he approached the Romulans. Keep up the great work, please.
Really liking the situation and especially the cultural exchange between Wilt and the romulans. Superb example of Federation culture and diplomacy. The have a big problem to solve and they need the romulans receptive and helpful to solve it. And a planet full of innocents who need to be protected. This can quickly devolve into a Prime Directive situation - with armed romulans in locus.
I'm really interested in how Wilt conveys this priority to the romulans and how they respond to it.
Great set up. This story's got some legs. All the makings of a franchise classic. Thanks!! rbs
I'm really interested in how Wilt conveys this priority to the romulans and how they respond to it.
Great set up. This story's got some legs. All the makings of a franchise classic. Thanks!! rbs
Always appreciate the methodical and professional approach of your characters, once again evidenced here by Lightner and Wilt. Particularly when it’s all going well. Of course, few have ever written a story where everything is going well.
Can’t wait to find out how things are about to go wrong here. I can already think of a few possibilities.
Can’t wait to find out how things are about to go wrong here. I can already think of a few possibilities.
USS Gibraltar
Lieutenant Avritt called Lightner’s attention to a holo-display hovering above her workstation. “Captain, we’ve recovered the remote reconnaissance drone we dispatched into the warbird’s hulk. It’s returned with some unusual telemetry. I’ve been conferring with Engineering on this, and it doesn’t appear the chroniton radiation we’ve been detecting is from the Romulan ship’s cloaking system as we’d first believed.”
Lightner stepped over to her station. “Explain.”
“Typically, a cloaking device produces trace amounts of chronometric particles, but can, if damaged, put out significant amounts of chroniton radiation. The drone found no signs of damage to this warbird’s cloaking device and found instead that the radiation appears to be emitting from the vessel’s superstructure itself, as though the ship absorbed a significant amount of chronometric energy.”
Lightner reviewed the findings and then glanced down at the younger woman. “What would produce this kind of chronometric signature? A weapon? Some kind of natural phenomena?”
“I’m running a comparative search through our database, sir,” Avritt answered as the holographic display above her console flashed through thousands of data queries.
“Understood, keep me appris—”
The computer trilled and an image of a Defiant-class starship appeared on the holo-display. Avritt frowned at the screen. “The… uh… it appears the computer has hit on a possible match, sir. Says here a rogue Starfleet vessel, the Masada, utilized a chronometric weapon with a very similar signature against the Romulans during a battle in the Delta Quadrant twenty-four years ago during the Refugee Cris—”
Avritt’s voice died away as she watched the color drain from Lightner’s face.
“Captain?”
Lightner forced himself to blink, then swallowed hard. “Yes… sorry, Lieutenant. I was there, at that battle. It just caught me… by surprise, is all.”
He tamped down the memories bubbling up of that pitched battle, the Romulan ambush of the refugee Ferou species during Starfleet’s First Contact with them, exacerbated by the machinations of a rogue Starfleet officer and ship wielding temporal weaponry. It had been the shit-show to end all shit-shows.
Lightner, a junior-lieutenant at the helm, had argued with the first officer’s decision to return to the battle with their ship damaged and in disarray to try and rescue their captain and his diplomatic team. Lightner had been proven wrong, and the memories held the bitter taste of regret and embarrassment for him.
“Please complete your comparative analysis of those weapons signatures,” Lightner managed as he retreated to his command chair. “Coordinate with Engineering to see if anyone in the last quarter century has come up with shield modulations that might combat such a weapon.”
He stood again almost immediately after taking his seat, causing heads from around the bridge to turn almost in unison.
“Ops, get me a priority subspace channel to the nearest Department of Temporal Investigations field office and put it through to my ready room. Wójcik, you have the conn.”
With that Lightner strode hurriedly off the bridge.
* * *
Chedrova VI
Following a cursory inspection of the Romulan camp, and with the agreement of the sub-commander who appeared to lead the contingent, Wilt ordered their shuttle to land alongside its Romulan counterparts.
The away team had spent the last two hours assisting the Romulans with their injured. Dr. S’Len had brought with him three mobile emitters, allowing three separate medical holograms to diagnose and treat the wounded.
Wilt was conferring with 1971 when a Romulan woman approached cradling a small carrying case. She was accompanied by Sub-Commander Verar.
Verar came to attention as much out of habit as anything. “Commander Wilt, I would like to introduce Doctor Kemet. She has a topic of some urgency to discuss with you.”
Wilt turned to see a woman of medium height, dressed in civilian garb with more of a foreign aesthetic than he was accustomed to seeing on someone of her species. Her dark hair was gathered and pinned in back, and she clearly eschewed the typical militaristic hairstyle favored by those in the former-empire’s armed forces.
Wilt inclined his head. “Doctor, a pleasure to meet you. How can I be of assistance?”
Kemet held a look with Verar for a moment before fixing her eyes on Wilt. “Commander, I am the person who was taken off the Corvallen ship against my will. Sub-Commander Verar and his people rescued me from my abductors, sacrificing their ship and much of their crew in the process.”
She held up the case in her hand, its sides and lid emblazoned with Klingon script. “The reason I was forcibly abducted is that I am a researcher in temporal mechanics, most recently liaising with the Vulcan Science Academy. My abductors were representatives of a Romulan faction opposed to the policies of the Free State. They have been trying for some time, without success, to steal Borg temporal technology from the Artifact in the Free State’s possession. They are convinced that armed with such technology they can either travel back in time to somehow prevent the destruction of Romulus or transport the entire planet by unknown means to a different system and prevent its annihilation in that way.”
“That’s… madness,” Wilt assessed gravely.
“I thought so, too, which is why I refused multiple entreaties to help them.” She hefted the case up into Wilt’s eyeline. “Then they came into possession of these.”
She toggled a small switch on the carrying case’s lid, causing a panel to slide back beneath a transparent partition in the lid. Through the partition Wilt observed two greenish crystals housed within the case, each approximately the length of his index finger.
His expression demanded further elaboration.
“They are poH qut, time crystals, stolen from the Klingon monastery on Boreth.”
Wilt was nonplussed. “Forgive me, I don’t grasp the significance.”
“The crystals have unpredictable temporal properties. I have no idea of they could potentially allow this faction to accomplish their goals, but these people could certainly do irreparable harm to the timeline with their attempts.”
A nod was Wilt’s concession to the statement. “Are you requesting Federation assistance with securing these ‘time crystals’, Doctor?”
She shared another hard look with Verar, who nodded once.
“Yes, I am. I was presented with the crystals almost immediately after my abduction, and they were recovered along with me. They are critically important to the faction’s ambitions. I have no doubt they will send more ships to secure the crystals, and likely me as well.”
Wilt did not hesitate. He turned to 1971. “Lieutenant, Dr. Kemet and her crystals are now under our protection. I want them shuttled aboard Gibraltar as quickly as possible following a security scan of the case's contents.” He looked to Verar. “Sub-Commander, I’m assuming you’ll want your own security detachment watching over Dr. Kemet as well?”
Verar appeared skeptical. “Such a thing is possible?”
“I will ask my captain, but I believe he would be amenable to an arrangement like that, given the circumstances.”
1971 took Dr. Kemet in tow, escorted by one of his security squad and four armed Romulans, and started towards the Starfleet shuttle.
Wilt tapped his combadge. “Wilt to Gibraltar, I need to speak with the captain.”
There was a pause, followed by Wójcik’s voice, “Commander, I apologize but Captain Lightner is in a priority conference over subspace with Temporal Investigations. Can I help you with something?”
“Temporal Investigations?” Wilt frowned, talking half to himself. “How could he have known?”
“Known, Commander? Known what?”
“Sorry, Lieutenant. Disregard. Please inform the captain that some of the Romulans are coming onboard via shuttle with Seventy-One on my authority. We appear to have found out who they abducted, and why, but it’s likely there will be another attempt by the Romulan faction that staged the attack on Invoxsim.”
“Aye, sir. Be advised, Lt. Avritt’s found indications that the warbird in orbit was attacked by some manner of temporal weapon.”
Wilt nodded, the gesture lost on Wójcik over audio-only comms. “That checks out. This whole situation is developing that flavor.”
“I’ll advise the captain as soon as he’s off comms, sir.”
“Thank you, Wilt out.”
The sound of the shuttle’s engines roared overheard, the craft racing skyward. Wilt watched it rise, wondering just what they had got themselves involved in.
* * *
Lieutenant Avritt called Lightner’s attention to a holo-display hovering above her workstation. “Captain, we’ve recovered the remote reconnaissance drone we dispatched into the warbird’s hulk. It’s returned with some unusual telemetry. I’ve been conferring with Engineering on this, and it doesn’t appear the chroniton radiation we’ve been detecting is from the Romulan ship’s cloaking system as we’d first believed.”
Lightner stepped over to her station. “Explain.”
“Typically, a cloaking device produces trace amounts of chronometric particles, but can, if damaged, put out significant amounts of chroniton radiation. The drone found no signs of damage to this warbird’s cloaking device and found instead that the radiation appears to be emitting from the vessel’s superstructure itself, as though the ship absorbed a significant amount of chronometric energy.”
Lightner reviewed the findings and then glanced down at the younger woman. “What would produce this kind of chronometric signature? A weapon? Some kind of natural phenomena?”
“I’m running a comparative search through our database, sir,” Avritt answered as the holographic display above her console flashed through thousands of data queries.
“Understood, keep me appris—”
The computer trilled and an image of a Defiant-class starship appeared on the holo-display. Avritt frowned at the screen. “The… uh… it appears the computer has hit on a possible match, sir. Says here a rogue Starfleet vessel, the Masada, utilized a chronometric weapon with a very similar signature against the Romulans during a battle in the Delta Quadrant twenty-four years ago during the Refugee Cris—”
Avritt’s voice died away as she watched the color drain from Lightner’s face.
“Captain?”
Lightner forced himself to blink, then swallowed hard. “Yes… sorry, Lieutenant. I was there, at that battle. It just caught me… by surprise, is all.”
He tamped down the memories bubbling up of that pitched battle, the Romulan ambush of the refugee Ferou species during Starfleet’s First Contact with them, exacerbated by the machinations of a rogue Starfleet officer and ship wielding temporal weaponry. It had been the shit-show to end all shit-shows.
Lightner, a junior-lieutenant at the helm, had argued with the first officer’s decision to return to the battle with their ship damaged and in disarray to try and rescue their captain and his diplomatic team. Lightner had been proven wrong, and the memories held the bitter taste of regret and embarrassment for him.
“Please complete your comparative analysis of those weapons signatures,” Lightner managed as he retreated to his command chair. “Coordinate with Engineering to see if anyone in the last quarter century has come up with shield modulations that might combat such a weapon.”
He stood again almost immediately after taking his seat, causing heads from around the bridge to turn almost in unison.
“Ops, get me a priority subspace channel to the nearest Department of Temporal Investigations field office and put it through to my ready room. Wójcik, you have the conn.”
With that Lightner strode hurriedly off the bridge.
* * *
Chedrova VI
Following a cursory inspection of the Romulan camp, and with the agreement of the sub-commander who appeared to lead the contingent, Wilt ordered their shuttle to land alongside its Romulan counterparts.
The away team had spent the last two hours assisting the Romulans with their injured. Dr. S’Len had brought with him three mobile emitters, allowing three separate medical holograms to diagnose and treat the wounded.
Wilt was conferring with 1971 when a Romulan woman approached cradling a small carrying case. She was accompanied by Sub-Commander Verar.
Verar came to attention as much out of habit as anything. “Commander Wilt, I would like to introduce Doctor Kemet. She has a topic of some urgency to discuss with you.”
Wilt turned to see a woman of medium height, dressed in civilian garb with more of a foreign aesthetic than he was accustomed to seeing on someone of her species. Her dark hair was gathered and pinned in back, and she clearly eschewed the typical militaristic hairstyle favored by those in the former-empire’s armed forces.
Wilt inclined his head. “Doctor, a pleasure to meet you. How can I be of assistance?”
Kemet held a look with Verar for a moment before fixing her eyes on Wilt. “Commander, I am the person who was taken off the Corvallen ship against my will. Sub-Commander Verar and his people rescued me from my abductors, sacrificing their ship and much of their crew in the process.”
She held up the case in her hand, its sides and lid emblazoned with Klingon script. “The reason I was forcibly abducted is that I am a researcher in temporal mechanics, most recently liaising with the Vulcan Science Academy. My abductors were representatives of a Romulan faction opposed to the policies of the Free State. They have been trying for some time, without success, to steal Borg temporal technology from the Artifact in the Free State’s possession. They are convinced that armed with such technology they can either travel back in time to somehow prevent the destruction of Romulus or transport the entire planet by unknown means to a different system and prevent its annihilation in that way.”
“That’s… madness,” Wilt assessed gravely.
“I thought so, too, which is why I refused multiple entreaties to help them.” She hefted the case up into Wilt’s eyeline. “Then they came into possession of these.”
She toggled a small switch on the carrying case’s lid, causing a panel to slide back beneath a transparent partition in the lid. Through the partition Wilt observed two greenish crystals housed within the case, each approximately the length of his index finger.
His expression demanded further elaboration.
“They are poH qut, time crystals, stolen from the Klingon monastery on Boreth.”
Wilt was nonplussed. “Forgive me, I don’t grasp the significance.”
“The crystals have unpredictable temporal properties. I have no idea of they could potentially allow this faction to accomplish their goals, but these people could certainly do irreparable harm to the timeline with their attempts.”
A nod was Wilt’s concession to the statement. “Are you requesting Federation assistance with securing these ‘time crystals’, Doctor?”
She shared another hard look with Verar, who nodded once.
“Yes, I am. I was presented with the crystals almost immediately after my abduction, and they were recovered along with me. They are critically important to the faction’s ambitions. I have no doubt they will send more ships to secure the crystals, and likely me as well.”
Wilt did not hesitate. He turned to 1971. “Lieutenant, Dr. Kemet and her crystals are now under our protection. I want them shuttled aboard Gibraltar as quickly as possible following a security scan of the case's contents.” He looked to Verar. “Sub-Commander, I’m assuming you’ll want your own security detachment watching over Dr. Kemet as well?”
Verar appeared skeptical. “Such a thing is possible?”
“I will ask my captain, but I believe he would be amenable to an arrangement like that, given the circumstances.”
1971 took Dr. Kemet in tow, escorted by one of his security squad and four armed Romulans, and started towards the Starfleet shuttle.
Wilt tapped his combadge. “Wilt to Gibraltar, I need to speak with the captain.”
There was a pause, followed by Wójcik’s voice, “Commander, I apologize but Captain Lightner is in a priority conference over subspace with Temporal Investigations. Can I help you with something?”
“Temporal Investigations?” Wilt frowned, talking half to himself. “How could he have known?”
“Known, Commander? Known what?”
“Sorry, Lieutenant. Disregard. Please inform the captain that some of the Romulans are coming onboard via shuttle with Seventy-One on my authority. We appear to have found out who they abducted, and why, but it’s likely there will be another attempt by the Romulan faction that staged the attack on Invoxsim.”
“Aye, sir. Be advised, Lt. Avritt’s found indications that the warbird in orbit was attacked by some manner of temporal weapon.”
Wilt nodded, the gesture lost on Wójcik over audio-only comms. “That checks out. This whole situation is developing that flavor.”
“I’ll advise the captain as soon as he’s off comms, sir.”
“Thank you, Wilt out.”
The sound of the shuttle’s engines roared overheard, the craft racing skyward. Wilt watched it rise, wondering just what they had got themselves involved in.
* * *
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Time travel…
Temporal mechanics is a headache.
Temporal mechanics is a headache.
In the words of our favorite Irish engineer - and our other favorite Irish engineer:
Yeah... Lightner didn't have any PTSD lingering about his last meeting with Baronic technology... Nice depiction of why his crew is a little chinchy on their new captain. He's going to have to pull himself together fast.
And a shipment of kryptonite is headed up to Gibraltar. Yeah... that's not going to cause any additional stress...
I'm interested to find out who has inherited the Baron's technology. (It would be a blast if their ship has a tri-foil on it...)
Thanks!! rbs
Really like that you made the jump. I've been mulling some ideas myself about making a jump for Dark Territory or revisiting the Lost Era crew from the USS Robeson that I did a story about a few years ago back now and using them in the Picard era since I've got a lot more freedom with them and they aren't tied to the UT. This is cool that you are taking the UT into the new Trek era.
* * *
Lightner switched over via the message-waiting icon on his holo-interface as he closed out his lengthy but inconclusive consultation with Temporal Investigations. Lieutenant Wójcik appeared on the floating screen.
“Sir, our shuttle’s coming up with Romulan passengers, one of whom is apparently the individual forcibly removed from the Invoxsim. Commander Wilt indicated this is a priority and there could be hostiles in the area.”
“What? I—” Lightner stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing that his shrill flash of outrage was being broadcast to the entire bridge. He calmed his breathing and adjusted his tone. “Yes, acknowledged. Stand to Yellow Alert and rout the shuttle to bay three and have a security team meet me there.”
Too many times in his early career Lightner had been stationed on ships that had been boarded by hostiles, forcing him to fight for his life and those of his fellow crew. Discovering that Romulans were unexpectedly only moments away from touching down aboard his ship tapped a deep well of anxiety within him.
“Computer, site-to-site transport. Put me right outside Shuttle Bay Three.”
‘Acknowledged,’ the computer replied.
There was a flash and Lightner found himself in a corridor next to the entry hatch to the shuttle bay, a startled crewmember stepping back away from him.
“Sorry,” he offered lamely as the enlisted person scurried away about their business.
He activated a wall screen set into the bulkhead and watched the surveillance footage of the bay as the shuttle pierced the atmospheric forcefield and set down.
Lightner glanced back at the sound of approaching footsteps to see a squad of four security personnel armed with holstered phaser pistols and carrying compact phaser rifles. He cycled open the bay doors and stepped through with his security team trailing him.
The shuttle hatch opened and Lieutenant 1971 exited the craft, followed by a Romulan woman and four armed Romulan centurions. The woman was carrying a small case, holding it in such a way that it was clear to Lightner it contained something valuable, dangerous, or both.
1971 turned briefly to examine the demeanor of the Romulans accompanying him, the small circular display on the back of his bald head flashing green as the cyborg regained real-time connectivity with the ship’s main computer.
He turned back, inclining his head towards Lightner. “Dr. Kemet, may I present to you Captain Lightner. Captain, this is Dr. Kemet, a Romulan fellow at the Vulcan Science Academy. She claims to be the person abducted from the Corvallen ship and says she has important information for us…”
* * *
On the bridge, Lieutenant Avritt frowned at one of her multiple holographic displays, then used her hands to highlight and magnify the individual simulated screen.
“Ops, are you seeing this jump in tachyons?” she inquired of Ensign Rosht’u, who had replaced Lieutenant Wójcik at Operations when she had assumed the conn.
Rosht’u checked his sensors, pale green fingers alighting across his console and holo-interfaces. “Affirmative, sir,” he replied. “Reading a three-hundred-sixty-one percent increase in tachyon emissions locally.”
Avritt turned to face Wójcik, the bridge duty officer, now seated in the captain’s chair. “Sir, it’s a good bet we’ve got cloaked ships in close proximity.”
Wójcik stood. “Red alert, shields up and activate defenses. Initiate a spherical antiproton sweep expanding out from our position.” She glanced up, the nearly universal idiosyncrasy when activating shipboard comms. “Bridge to Captain, we’ve detected possible cloaked ships in our vicinity. Request your presence on the bridge.” She gestured then to Rosht’u. “Ops, signal our away team and let them know what’s going on.”
* * *
Chedrova VI
Dr. S’Len approached Wilt, who had just finished conferring with Sub-Commander Verar regarding the Romulans’ remaining needs for food and shelter.
“Commander,” S’Len announced in his typical measured tone, “I have completed my assessment of the Romulans collective medical requirements.”
Wilt turned to face him. “Let’s hear it, Doctor.”
“My team and I have treated the most significant injuries to the best of our abilities, but there are still seven patients who should be brought aboard for more comprehensive therapies in Sickbay. We’ve encountered some Romulans with exposure to high levels of chroniton radiation, which has caused a number of them to experience premature tissue decay, while others are exhibiting more rapid than nominal tissue growth. If left untreated this may lead to a host of exotic cancers.”
Wilt appeared appropriately grim. “Understood. As soon as I can clear it with the captain, we’ll shuttle those people aboard.”
The XO’s combadge chirped, then emitted Ensign Rosht’u’s voice.
“Gibraltar to Commander Wilt, be advised that we’ve detected high levels of tachyons in our immediate vicinity and have gone to red alert. We suspect there are cloaked ships in orbit with us. Lieutenant Wójcik recommends seeking shelter as best you’re able under the circumstances.”
“Acknowledged, Gibraltar. Thank you for the heads up,” Wilt replied, looking around at the beautiful but shelter deficient landscape. “I’ll advise when we’ve located someplace to hole up.”
S’Len observed Wilt, having long secretly admired the man’s uncommonly dispassionate demeanor, so rare for a Human.
“How would you describe our current circumstances, sir?”
Wilt managed a wry grin in response. “Decidedly sub-optimal, Doctor.” He tapped his combadge, “Wilt to away team…”
* * *
Lightner, 1971, Dr. Kemet and her retinue had moved to a small conference room on the same deck as the shuttle bay.
Kemet was describing for Lightner the circumstances around her coming into possession of the time crystals when the captain’s combadge activated.
“Bridge to Captain, we’ve detected possible cloaked ships in our vicinity. Request your presence on the bridge.”
Lightner tapped the device reflexively, though it wasn’t necessary. “Understood, Lieutenant. On my way.” He turned his attention back to Kemet. “My apologies, Doctor. It seems your abductors may have returned in force. Do you have any information on the nature of their temporal weapons?”
“Unfortunately, no, Captain. I can tell you that this particular faction, the Revisionists, have been researching temporal technology since the fall of Romulus, using any and all means at their disposal. I’m not surprised that they’ve had some successes.”
Lightner nodded his thanks and turned to 1971. “Please see our new friends to guest quarters, Level 2 access privileges with security escort.”
He stepped back a pace from the others. “Computer, site-to-site transport to main bridge. Initiate.”
There was a flash and he was gone.
* * *
Lightner materialized on the bridge in a white pulse of transporter energy.
Wójcik immediately vacated the command chair, offering her report as she did so.
“We’ve detected one possible contact nearby, sir. It’s positioned between us and the planet. The same chroniton radiation that’s affecting our transporters is also playing hob with their cloaking fields. It was easier than I’d imagined to detect that one. We suspect there’s more, based on the strength of the tachyon emissions.”
Lightner seated himself. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Please continue as acting-XO until we get Mister Wilt back from the surface.”
“Another one!” Avritt barked from the Science station. “Decloaking to starboard, Valdore-class warbird. Fifty-two kilometers, bearing two-three-four, mark zero-nine-five.”
“Their shields are up, weapons systems active,” prompted Rosht’u from Operations.
Lieutenant(j.g.) Moskowitz, 1971’s deputy at Security/Tactical, called out, “We’re being scanned.”
Lightner opened a comms channel via his seat’s armrest interface. “Romulan vessels, you are in Federation space without permission and in violation of treaty. You will power down your weapons and immediately leave Federation territory or I will initiate defensive action against your ships.”
“Two more decloaking, Captain. The one we detected before and another, one Valdore-class, one Remus-class.”
“They’re firin—” The range was so close that Moskowitz couldn’t even complete the sentence before the incoming disruptor bolts crashed into Gibraltar’s shields.
The Ross-class variant of the Galaxy-class was a sturdy ship, and this one was barely a year out of the construction yards. She contained the best of the Federation’s technological advancements from the past two decades, including the hard-won lessons of the Dominion War.
The weapons impacts were gamely absorbed by Gibraltar’s multi-phasic shields.
Lightner gritted his teeth, fairly growling across the open subspace channel. “Revisionists, if it’s a fight you want, we’re prepared to oblige you.”
He severed the channel.
“Phasers, one-half power against their shields. This will be their warning.”
An alert warbled at the Tactical console, notice of their outgoing phaser fire.
“Sir, one of the Valdore’s appears to be targeting the Romulan camp on the surface.”
Lightner sat forward in his chair, face taught. “Quantum torpedoes on that warbird, full spread!”
* * *
Chedrova VI
Wilt and S’Len were sprinting back towards the center of the camp, yelling at everyone they encountered to head for a nearby outcropping of igneous rocks where the Romulans had discovered some small caves upon their first arriving here. Wilt had no idea if such caverns would offer any protection against a strike from orbit, but he supposed it was better than cowering in the open.
Wilt had been tapping furiously at his combadge, only to receive the device’s null-function buzz. It was a sure sign local subspace communications were being jammed.
The XO was waving to get the attention of Lt. Commander Orto, their chief engineer, when a greenish flash lit the sky. Wilt turned to see a growing string of emerald flares descending towards them.
“Everybody down!” he screamed, pushing Dr. S’Len to the ground and covering the physician as best he could with his own body.
* * *
Gibraltar’s salvo of quantum torpedoes savaged the warbird’s shields, but not before it had disgorged a flight of its own missiles towards the planet.
The power of the combined quantums collapsed the warbird’s aft shields in a brilliant flash of light, allowing Gibraltar’s follow-on phaser beams to hole the ship from stern to bow. The phasers then tracked back and forth through the warship’s superstructure, annihilating everything they touched.
Gibraltar left the ship gutted, a glowing shell that served as crematorium to the warbird’s incinerated crew.
“Valdore neutralized, Captain,” Rosht’u noted. “The other two appear to be withdrawing.”
The turbolift doors parted to admit 1971 onto the bridge, who quickly joined Moskowitz at the Tactical arch.
“Captain, I—” the words caught in Avritt’s throat. She took a breath and tried again. “I’m… reading multiple detonations at the site of the Romulan encampment. The combined destructive yield is… thirty megatons.”
Silence reigned on the bridge until Lightner ordered, “Pursuit course, open fire on the retreating ships.”
He could do nothing for the Romulans and his own away team except exact vengeance.
“Sir,” Wójcik offered quietly from the XO’s seat to his right, “they’re withdrawing. Continuing our attack may appear needlessly provocative.”
They watched on the main viewer as another flight of quantums raced after the nearest threat vessel, the newer Remus-class. Her aft disruptors intercepted two of the five incoming torpedoes and a desperate evasive maneuver duped two more. The final torpedo flashed brilliantly against the warbird’s aft shields, the dazzling flare serving to hide the moment when the vessel cloaked and effectively disappeared.
“Cease fire,” Lightner said hollowly.
“The remaining threat vessels have cloaked, sir,” Rosh’tu announced. “Shall I begin an antiproton sweep?”
Lightner took a full five seconds to muster a reply. “No… stand down. Helm, take us back to high orbit. Sciences, initiate full-spectrum scans of… where the encampment was. Maybe… maybe someone was able to find some kind of cover.”
He didn’t believe it, and neither did they, but no one could summon the courage to say it. Lightner understood that from a thirty-megaton explosion everything within a radius of six kilometers would have been vaporized.
Lightner knew he should remain on the bridge, that his crew needed him to be strong for all of them in this moment of loss and horror.
He retreated to his ready room anyway, ceding the bridge to Wójcik.
* * *
Lightner switched over via the message-waiting icon on his holo-interface as he closed out his lengthy but inconclusive consultation with Temporal Investigations. Lieutenant Wójcik appeared on the floating screen.
“Sir, our shuttle’s coming up with Romulan passengers, one of whom is apparently the individual forcibly removed from the Invoxsim. Commander Wilt indicated this is a priority and there could be hostiles in the area.”
“What? I—” Lightner stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing that his shrill flash of outrage was being broadcast to the entire bridge. He calmed his breathing and adjusted his tone. “Yes, acknowledged. Stand to Yellow Alert and rout the shuttle to bay three and have a security team meet me there.”
Too many times in his early career Lightner had been stationed on ships that had been boarded by hostiles, forcing him to fight for his life and those of his fellow crew. Discovering that Romulans were unexpectedly only moments away from touching down aboard his ship tapped a deep well of anxiety within him.
“Computer, site-to-site transport. Put me right outside Shuttle Bay Three.”
‘Acknowledged,’ the computer replied.
There was a flash and Lightner found himself in a corridor next to the entry hatch to the shuttle bay, a startled crewmember stepping back away from him.
“Sorry,” he offered lamely as the enlisted person scurried away about their business.
He activated a wall screen set into the bulkhead and watched the surveillance footage of the bay as the shuttle pierced the atmospheric forcefield and set down.
Lightner glanced back at the sound of approaching footsteps to see a squad of four security personnel armed with holstered phaser pistols and carrying compact phaser rifles. He cycled open the bay doors and stepped through with his security team trailing him.
The shuttle hatch opened and Lieutenant 1971 exited the craft, followed by a Romulan woman and four armed Romulan centurions. The woman was carrying a small case, holding it in such a way that it was clear to Lightner it contained something valuable, dangerous, or both.
1971 turned briefly to examine the demeanor of the Romulans accompanying him, the small circular display on the back of his bald head flashing green as the cyborg regained real-time connectivity with the ship’s main computer.
He turned back, inclining his head towards Lightner. “Dr. Kemet, may I present to you Captain Lightner. Captain, this is Dr. Kemet, a Romulan fellow at the Vulcan Science Academy. She claims to be the person abducted from the Corvallen ship and says she has important information for us…”
* * *
On the bridge, Lieutenant Avritt frowned at one of her multiple holographic displays, then used her hands to highlight and magnify the individual simulated screen.
“Ops, are you seeing this jump in tachyons?” she inquired of Ensign Rosht’u, who had replaced Lieutenant Wójcik at Operations when she had assumed the conn.
Rosht’u checked his sensors, pale green fingers alighting across his console and holo-interfaces. “Affirmative, sir,” he replied. “Reading a three-hundred-sixty-one percent increase in tachyon emissions locally.”
Avritt turned to face Wójcik, the bridge duty officer, now seated in the captain’s chair. “Sir, it’s a good bet we’ve got cloaked ships in close proximity.”
Wójcik stood. “Red alert, shields up and activate defenses. Initiate a spherical antiproton sweep expanding out from our position.” She glanced up, the nearly universal idiosyncrasy when activating shipboard comms. “Bridge to Captain, we’ve detected possible cloaked ships in our vicinity. Request your presence on the bridge.” She gestured then to Rosht’u. “Ops, signal our away team and let them know what’s going on.”
* * *
Chedrova VI
Dr. S’Len approached Wilt, who had just finished conferring with Sub-Commander Verar regarding the Romulans’ remaining needs for food and shelter.
“Commander,” S’Len announced in his typical measured tone, “I have completed my assessment of the Romulans collective medical requirements.”
Wilt turned to face him. “Let’s hear it, Doctor.”
“My team and I have treated the most significant injuries to the best of our abilities, but there are still seven patients who should be brought aboard for more comprehensive therapies in Sickbay. We’ve encountered some Romulans with exposure to high levels of chroniton radiation, which has caused a number of them to experience premature tissue decay, while others are exhibiting more rapid than nominal tissue growth. If left untreated this may lead to a host of exotic cancers.”
Wilt appeared appropriately grim. “Understood. As soon as I can clear it with the captain, we’ll shuttle those people aboard.”
The XO’s combadge chirped, then emitted Ensign Rosht’u’s voice.
“Gibraltar to Commander Wilt, be advised that we’ve detected high levels of tachyons in our immediate vicinity and have gone to red alert. We suspect there are cloaked ships in orbit with us. Lieutenant Wójcik recommends seeking shelter as best you’re able under the circumstances.”
“Acknowledged, Gibraltar. Thank you for the heads up,” Wilt replied, looking around at the beautiful but shelter deficient landscape. “I’ll advise when we’ve located someplace to hole up.”
S’Len observed Wilt, having long secretly admired the man’s uncommonly dispassionate demeanor, so rare for a Human.
“How would you describe our current circumstances, sir?”
Wilt managed a wry grin in response. “Decidedly sub-optimal, Doctor.” He tapped his combadge, “Wilt to away team…”
* * *
Lightner, 1971, Dr. Kemet and her retinue had moved to a small conference room on the same deck as the shuttle bay.
Kemet was describing for Lightner the circumstances around her coming into possession of the time crystals when the captain’s combadge activated.
“Bridge to Captain, we’ve detected possible cloaked ships in our vicinity. Request your presence on the bridge.”
Lightner tapped the device reflexively, though it wasn’t necessary. “Understood, Lieutenant. On my way.” He turned his attention back to Kemet. “My apologies, Doctor. It seems your abductors may have returned in force. Do you have any information on the nature of their temporal weapons?”
“Unfortunately, no, Captain. I can tell you that this particular faction, the Revisionists, have been researching temporal technology since the fall of Romulus, using any and all means at their disposal. I’m not surprised that they’ve had some successes.”
Lightner nodded his thanks and turned to 1971. “Please see our new friends to guest quarters, Level 2 access privileges with security escort.”
He stepped back a pace from the others. “Computer, site-to-site transport to main bridge. Initiate.”
There was a flash and he was gone.
* * *
Lightner materialized on the bridge in a white pulse of transporter energy.
Wójcik immediately vacated the command chair, offering her report as she did so.
“We’ve detected one possible contact nearby, sir. It’s positioned between us and the planet. The same chroniton radiation that’s affecting our transporters is also playing hob with their cloaking fields. It was easier than I’d imagined to detect that one. We suspect there’s more, based on the strength of the tachyon emissions.”
Lightner seated himself. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Please continue as acting-XO until we get Mister Wilt back from the surface.”
“Another one!” Avritt barked from the Science station. “Decloaking to starboard, Valdore-class warbird. Fifty-two kilometers, bearing two-three-four, mark zero-nine-five.”
“Their shields are up, weapons systems active,” prompted Rosht’u from Operations.
Lieutenant(j.g.) Moskowitz, 1971’s deputy at Security/Tactical, called out, “We’re being scanned.”
Lightner opened a comms channel via his seat’s armrest interface. “Romulan vessels, you are in Federation space without permission and in violation of treaty. You will power down your weapons and immediately leave Federation territory or I will initiate defensive action against your ships.”
“Two more decloaking, Captain. The one we detected before and another, one Valdore-class, one Remus-class.”
“They’re firin—” The range was so close that Moskowitz couldn’t even complete the sentence before the incoming disruptor bolts crashed into Gibraltar’s shields.
The Ross-class variant of the Galaxy-class was a sturdy ship, and this one was barely a year out of the construction yards. She contained the best of the Federation’s technological advancements from the past two decades, including the hard-won lessons of the Dominion War.
The weapons impacts were gamely absorbed by Gibraltar’s multi-phasic shields.
Lightner gritted his teeth, fairly growling across the open subspace channel. “Revisionists, if it’s a fight you want, we’re prepared to oblige you.”
He severed the channel.
“Phasers, one-half power against their shields. This will be their warning.”
An alert warbled at the Tactical console, notice of their outgoing phaser fire.
“Sir, one of the Valdore’s appears to be targeting the Romulan camp on the surface.”
Lightner sat forward in his chair, face taught. “Quantum torpedoes on that warbird, full spread!”
* * *
Chedrova VI
Wilt and S’Len were sprinting back towards the center of the camp, yelling at everyone they encountered to head for a nearby outcropping of igneous rocks where the Romulans had discovered some small caves upon their first arriving here. Wilt had no idea if such caverns would offer any protection against a strike from orbit, but he supposed it was better than cowering in the open.
Wilt had been tapping furiously at his combadge, only to receive the device’s null-function buzz. It was a sure sign local subspace communications were being jammed.
The XO was waving to get the attention of Lt. Commander Orto, their chief engineer, when a greenish flash lit the sky. Wilt turned to see a growing string of emerald flares descending towards them.
“Everybody down!” he screamed, pushing Dr. S’Len to the ground and covering the physician as best he could with his own body.
* * *
Gibraltar’s salvo of quantum torpedoes savaged the warbird’s shields, but not before it had disgorged a flight of its own missiles towards the planet.
The power of the combined quantums collapsed the warbird’s aft shields in a brilliant flash of light, allowing Gibraltar’s follow-on phaser beams to hole the ship from stern to bow. The phasers then tracked back and forth through the warship’s superstructure, annihilating everything they touched.
Gibraltar left the ship gutted, a glowing shell that served as crematorium to the warbird’s incinerated crew.
“Valdore neutralized, Captain,” Rosht’u noted. “The other two appear to be withdrawing.”
The turbolift doors parted to admit 1971 onto the bridge, who quickly joined Moskowitz at the Tactical arch.
“Captain, I—” the words caught in Avritt’s throat. She took a breath and tried again. “I’m… reading multiple detonations at the site of the Romulan encampment. The combined destructive yield is… thirty megatons.”
Silence reigned on the bridge until Lightner ordered, “Pursuit course, open fire on the retreating ships.”
He could do nothing for the Romulans and his own away team except exact vengeance.
“Sir,” Wójcik offered quietly from the XO’s seat to his right, “they’re withdrawing. Continuing our attack may appear needlessly provocative.”
They watched on the main viewer as another flight of quantums raced after the nearest threat vessel, the newer Remus-class. Her aft disruptors intercepted two of the five incoming torpedoes and a desperate evasive maneuver duped two more. The final torpedo flashed brilliantly against the warbird’s aft shields, the dazzling flare serving to hide the moment when the vessel cloaked and effectively disappeared.
“Cease fire,” Lightner said hollowly.
“The remaining threat vessels have cloaked, sir,” Rosh’tu announced. “Shall I begin an antiproton sweep?”
Lightner took a full five seconds to muster a reply. “No… stand down. Helm, take us back to high orbit. Sciences, initiate full-spectrum scans of… where the encampment was. Maybe… maybe someone was able to find some kind of cover.”
He didn’t believe it, and neither did they, but no one could summon the courage to say it. Lightner understood that from a thirty-megaton explosion everything within a radius of six kilometers would have been vaporized.
Lightner knew he should remain on the bridge, that his crew needed him to be strong for all of them in this moment of loss and horror.
He retreated to his ready room anyway, ceding the bridge to Wójcik.
* * *
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Barring a miracle, Lightner just lost his strong right arm. He's not a basket case, but his behavior is hardly engendering confidence. This is a really great character study of a flawed leader in a tough situation. His instincts are just all wrong for a captain - he seriously needs to reprogram himself. His tendency to rely on the site-to-site transporting within the ship is also problematic - both disturbing to the crew and potentially hazardous in a hot fire situation.
He missed a number of opportunities in this moment that a captain with a cooler head might have taken. I'm really liking this aspect of the story.
We're probably less than 10 years away from Apple marketing such a device anyway.
Thanks!! rbs
He missed a number of opportunities in this moment that a captain with a cooler head might have taken. I'm really liking this aspect of the story.
Nice detail. I anticipate that an improvement in the communicator badges would make these devices smart enough to know when to self-activate, whom to reach out to, when to send an alert to medical for medical beamout and even when to record conversations and transmit them to staff at a surveillance workstation for real-time information gathering/reporting. Older officers, used to the hand activated badges would tend to tap them anyway.
We're probably less than 10 years away from Apple marketing such a device anyway.
Thanks!! rbs
I'm beginning to think that captaining a vessel with the name Gibraltar carries a curse... First Donnie Sandhurst and all he endured, now poor Brettie-boy...
Damn, Away Team Down.
A lot of things happening here at whirlwind speed. And I agree that Lightner seems a little overwhelmed by it all. In his defense, nothing here is exactly routine, but I suppose we have been spoiled over the years by starship captains who have excelled under unimaginable pressure. Not everyone is cut from that same cloth.
The site-to-site transporter made me chuckle. There is clearly a good argument against using this particular feature. I can just see an endless number of accidents attributed to somebody just materializing in your path. Although the slapstick value would be priceless.
A lot of things happening here at whirlwind speed. And I agree that Lightner seems a little overwhelmed by it all. In his defense, nothing here is exactly routine, but I suppose we have been spoiled over the years by starship captains who have excelled under unimaginable pressure. Not everyone is cut from that same cloth.
The site-to-site transporter made me chuckle. There is clearly a good argument against using this particular feature. I can just see an endless number of accidents attributed to somebody just materializing in your path. Although the slapstick value would be priceless.
To quote the immortal Douglas Adams:
I teleported home one night with Mel and Sid and Meg,
Mel stole Meggie's heart away and I got Sidney's leg.
Time to cue the reinforcements, and an Admiral with a stick up his hind end.
Just catching up after having been away, and what a great way to ring in the new year. I love seeing my favorite Gibraltar crew in different settings, and really enjoyed seeing out intrepid helmsman in this future incarnation. It's always interesting to see how life experiences can change a person, and not always for the better; and how could they not, in this instance? I like the groundwork you've laid thus far, and am looking forward to to seeing where you take these characters and story.
Starting out with a flawed hero really sets up the hero's journey - this setup definitely has legs...
* * *
“I can’t tell you whether you might have prevented the deaths of the away team, Captain, that’s not my area of expertise,” Counselor Rendro said, exuding empathy. “What I can tell you is that your cumulative trauma is likely triggering your anxiety, and that your resulting stress-responses are proving counterproductive.”
Lightner stared at the Betazoid officer across the top of the coffee table in the counselor’s office, his expression pinched. “That’s a nice way of saying I’m screwing everything up.”
“You’re an especially seasoned officer,” Rendro countered, his dark eyes boring into Lightner. “This is your third commission in the past seven years, and if I’m not mistaken, they don’t hand ships and crews of this size to inexperienced or incapable commanders. You’ve coped with similarly dynamic situations on any number of occasions during your career, and you’ve done so with good results. What we need to discover, sir, is what’s different this time?”
Lightner held up his hands in an expression of helplessness, then let them drop into his lap. “I don’t know. I can feel something’s wrong, but I can’t for the life of me put my finger on what.”
“Nothing about this current situation feels familiar to you? This isn’t calling up a specific incident that you’ve encountered before?”
A frustrated headshake presaged Lightner’s saying, “No, nothing. I’ve wracked my brain trying to find a similarity, but I keep coming up empty.”
Rendro nodded understandingly. “It could very well be some old trauma bubbling to the surface. That happens on occasion. Perhaps something you thought was resolved has remained buried deep in your subconscious.”
Lightner gestured helplessly. “I have to get a handle on this. The crew was already doubting my capabilities before I got three of my senior officers killed.”
Rendro held up a padd, shifting it back and forth slightly to direct Lightner’s attention to it. “Your service record is replete with trauma, Captain, going back to the very beginning of your career. You were attending the academy during the Dominion War when the Breen bombarded San Francisco. You helped evacuated the wounded and recover the dead from what was left of the academy and Starfleet Headquarters. Then, your first two tours were aboard ships that were subjected to considerably more danger and loss than is the norm.”
Lightner emitted a humorless laugh. “You could say that.”
“And then you spent over five years as an insurgent in a different galaxy,” Rendro noted, his expression nearly incredulous. “Living life on the ragged edge, constantly hunted, staging hit and run attacks on your former ship and crewmates who’d gone rogue.”
“When you say it like that, it makes me wonder how I’m not institutionalized somewhere,” Lightner said dryly.
“The point is that with the variety of ordeals you’ve experienced in your life, the source of your current anxiety and indecision could be almost anything. That indicates to me that we’d be better served treating the symptoms in the moment rather than trying to diagnose the cause. That can wait until after this current crisis has passed.”
Lightner inclined his head in assent. “Fine. Good. What’s your recommended course of treatment?”
“Continued daily sessions with me and a course of Delaprazine and Synaptizine to mitigate your anxiety and assist with clear cognition. If we can partially suppress your hyper-vigilant fight-or-flight response, you’ve a better chance of coping with unanticipated exigencies, Captain.”
Lightner nodded distractedly. “Let’s do that. Thank you, Counselor.”
“Bridge to Captain Lightner,” came Wójcik’s voice over Lightner’s combadge.
“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
“We’ve detected a Starfleet runabout inbound, sir. It’s transmitting priority ID codes, and they say they’re ferrying DTI personnel to us.”
“Understood. Make arrangements for their arrival. ETA?”
“A bit over three hours, sir.”
“Acknowledged. Inform me when they’re on final approach.”
The bridge closed the channel and Lightner gestured to the hypospray laying atop the table between them. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”
Rendro delivered the medications with a quick, painless injection.
“So, tell me, Counselor, why did Starfleet Medical assign you here? I’ve seen your qualifications, and to be frank, starship duty is a bit beneath your station.”
Rendro busied himself replacing the hypospray into its case and favored Lightner with an enigmatic smile. “Because you compromised your last therapist by becoming involved in an ill-advised romantic relationship, one that’s badly damaged Counselor Nornjen’s credibility and career path. It hasn’t done yours any favors, either. Starfleet’s given you command of one of its largest, most capable vessels, and they can’t be seen yanking that commission away from you after only a year without at least trying to fix the issue.”
“So… I’m an ‘issue’ now?”
Rendro cocked his head in response, as though the answer to that question was painfully obvious. “Of course you are, and rightfully so. They don’t send a full telepath with my curriculum vitae for minor psychiatric interventions, Captain.”
* * *
Lightner was waiting just inside the hatchway leading to Gibraltar’s cavernous main shuttlebay as the Arrow-class runabout settled onto the deck. The hatch opened as a team of robot servitors scuttled out of their storage bays to begin servicing the craft.
A humanoid male of roughly middle age and clad in subdued civilian clothes exited the runabout. He looked Human, with vaguely Asian features, small in stature but appearing solidly built.
“I thought you DTI types always traveled in pairs,” came Lightner’s stilted greeting.
“Not this time, Captain,” came the man’s subtly accented reply. He extended a hand after a moment of waiting for Lightner to do so. “Special Agent Chev Pokrol, Department of Temporal Investigations.”
Lightner gave the man’s hand a perfunctory shake. “I was surprised they got someone here this quickly.”
“Time crystals from Boreth are exceedingly rare artifacts, Captain. It’s unheard of for the Klingons to allow any of them off planet. If this Romulan faction were to re-acquire them, or worse, if they have more of them, they could wreak enormous damage to the integrity of our timeline.”
“So, you’re here to assume custody of the crystals?” Lightner asked.
“No, not yet, anyway. I’m simply the tip of the spear. We’ll have a full research team on the way here shortly.”
Pokrol reached into a pocket, producing an isolinear optical wafer. He held it out to Lightner. “Your orders, Captain. Starfleet Command, specifically Admiral Gborie, has instructed you to give DTI full cooperation on this mission.”
Lightner hesitated, staring at the tiny chip and all it portended. Servitors busied themselves in the background unloading cargo pallets containing specialized DTI equipment.
“Captain?” Pokrol prompted.
“Yes, of course,” Lightner said, taking the chip from him.
“I’ll take an hour to get settled into my guest accommodations, and then I’ll need to see the crystals and speak with Dr. Kemet.”
Lightner dipped his head. “Of course, Special Agent.”
“Pokrol’s just fine, Captain Lightner.”
* * *
“Astounding,” Pokrol murmured, looking between the crystals encased in the temporal analysis chamber and the readouts on the half-dozen holographic displays floating above the articulation frame.
Dr. Kemet looked on, equally engrossed with the analysis. “Their potential appears almost limitless.”
“That’s the intoxicating bit, and their most profound danger,” Pokrol replied, tearing himself away from the sensor telemetry to look at Kemet. “The Klingons could well have conquered the quadrant using temporal technology, but they found it to be so unpredictable that they buried that whole line of research… literally. They killed every scientist involved with those studies. Nobody still living knows why. They must have seen something so horrific that it dwarfed the military potential of their application.”
Lightner stepped forward, glancing across at his science officer, Lt. Avritt. She stood with her arms crossed, leaning against a workstation and listening intently to the two temporal-science experts.
“Could these Revisionists actually have achieved their goals with these crystals?” Lightner asked.
Pokrol shook his head. “We don’t know. It’s entirely possible they could, or equally possible they might have shredded our established timeline in the attempt.” He gestured towards the crystals. “We call them ‘time crystals’ because their temporal properties are their most obvious, but as these readings confirm, their energy shells extend deep into the subspace realm, granting them spatial as well as temporal effects.”
Lightner frowned. “Meaning…?”
“Meaning that triggering the crystals could have physical as well as temporal results. Let’s say the Revisionists had used these to try and save Romulus, or bring it forward in time somehow. They could, theoretically, physically displace the planet as well as relocate it in the time-stream. Now, the resulting gravimetric and temporal stresses that would create on both ends could be catastrophic—”
“Could, might, may,” Lightner erupted suddenly, his frustration evident. “This is all well and good from your theoretical standpoint, but we’re going to need concrete answers to some of these questions.”
“Captain, sir,” Avritt interjected. “That’s what they’re trying to tell us. There aren’t any absolute certainties when dealing with phenomena like this. We simply don’t know enough about them, about what they’re capable of. It’s like someone handing a tricorder to a Neanderthal.”
Pokrol nodded enthusiastically. “That’s it, exactly. DTI has been studying these kinds of phenomena for over a century, and we’ve only just scratched the surface. We’ve conducted experiments into changing the time-stream, but only minutely, at the atomic level. We’ve shifted the temporal signature of a single atom. Sometimes we observe very slight changes to surrounding quantum particles, and other times we see nothing. We’ve begun to suspect that often as not, shifting an object temporally might cause the branching off of an alternate timeline.”
“Starfleet has proven that there appear to be a near-infinite number of alternate realities honeycombed throughout subspace,” Avritt added.
“Precisely,” Pokrol agreed, smiling broadly. “So, if you did manage to travel forward or backward in time, you might be reappearing in a very similar quantum reality to your own, possibly only divergent by a change in the spin of a single subatomic particle, but still not your reality of origin.”
Lightner rubbed his temples, already well beyond his depth. “Okay, I’m going to leave you three to it.” He glanced at Pokrol. “Where from here?”
“That depends, Captain. Later today we’ll be working on ascertaining if there’s any quantum-entanglement indicators that there are other time crystals in the vicinity, say within twenty light-years. If the Revisionists have more of them, we might be able to determine where they’re at.”
“Okay, keep me informed. I’ll be in my rea… I’ll be on the bridge.”
With that, Lightner ducked out of the compartment, knowing only two things with certainty. One, he’d need an analgesic for his growing headache, and two, that Admiral Janeway had been absolutely correct in her assessment of the frustrations born of temporal mechanics.
* * *
“I can’t tell you whether you might have prevented the deaths of the away team, Captain, that’s not my area of expertise,” Counselor Rendro said, exuding empathy. “What I can tell you is that your cumulative trauma is likely triggering your anxiety, and that your resulting stress-responses are proving counterproductive.”
Lightner stared at the Betazoid officer across the top of the coffee table in the counselor’s office, his expression pinched. “That’s a nice way of saying I’m screwing everything up.”
“You’re an especially seasoned officer,” Rendro countered, his dark eyes boring into Lightner. “This is your third commission in the past seven years, and if I’m not mistaken, they don’t hand ships and crews of this size to inexperienced or incapable commanders. You’ve coped with similarly dynamic situations on any number of occasions during your career, and you’ve done so with good results. What we need to discover, sir, is what’s different this time?”
Lightner held up his hands in an expression of helplessness, then let them drop into his lap. “I don’t know. I can feel something’s wrong, but I can’t for the life of me put my finger on what.”
“Nothing about this current situation feels familiar to you? This isn’t calling up a specific incident that you’ve encountered before?”
A frustrated headshake presaged Lightner’s saying, “No, nothing. I’ve wracked my brain trying to find a similarity, but I keep coming up empty.”
Rendro nodded understandingly. “It could very well be some old trauma bubbling to the surface. That happens on occasion. Perhaps something you thought was resolved has remained buried deep in your subconscious.”
Lightner gestured helplessly. “I have to get a handle on this. The crew was already doubting my capabilities before I got three of my senior officers killed.”
Rendro held up a padd, shifting it back and forth slightly to direct Lightner’s attention to it. “Your service record is replete with trauma, Captain, going back to the very beginning of your career. You were attending the academy during the Dominion War when the Breen bombarded San Francisco. You helped evacuated the wounded and recover the dead from what was left of the academy and Starfleet Headquarters. Then, your first two tours were aboard ships that were subjected to considerably more danger and loss than is the norm.”
Lightner emitted a humorless laugh. “You could say that.”
“And then you spent over five years as an insurgent in a different galaxy,” Rendro noted, his expression nearly incredulous. “Living life on the ragged edge, constantly hunted, staging hit and run attacks on your former ship and crewmates who’d gone rogue.”
“When you say it like that, it makes me wonder how I’m not institutionalized somewhere,” Lightner said dryly.
“The point is that with the variety of ordeals you’ve experienced in your life, the source of your current anxiety and indecision could be almost anything. That indicates to me that we’d be better served treating the symptoms in the moment rather than trying to diagnose the cause. That can wait until after this current crisis has passed.”
Lightner inclined his head in assent. “Fine. Good. What’s your recommended course of treatment?”
“Continued daily sessions with me and a course of Delaprazine and Synaptizine to mitigate your anxiety and assist with clear cognition. If we can partially suppress your hyper-vigilant fight-or-flight response, you’ve a better chance of coping with unanticipated exigencies, Captain.”
Lightner nodded distractedly. “Let’s do that. Thank you, Counselor.”
“Bridge to Captain Lightner,” came Wójcik’s voice over Lightner’s combadge.
“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
“We’ve detected a Starfleet runabout inbound, sir. It’s transmitting priority ID codes, and they say they’re ferrying DTI personnel to us.”
“Understood. Make arrangements for their arrival. ETA?”
“A bit over three hours, sir.”
“Acknowledged. Inform me when they’re on final approach.”
The bridge closed the channel and Lightner gestured to the hypospray laying atop the table between them. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”
Rendro delivered the medications with a quick, painless injection.
“So, tell me, Counselor, why did Starfleet Medical assign you here? I’ve seen your qualifications, and to be frank, starship duty is a bit beneath your station.”
Rendro busied himself replacing the hypospray into its case and favored Lightner with an enigmatic smile. “Because you compromised your last therapist by becoming involved in an ill-advised romantic relationship, one that’s badly damaged Counselor Nornjen’s credibility and career path. It hasn’t done yours any favors, either. Starfleet’s given you command of one of its largest, most capable vessels, and they can’t be seen yanking that commission away from you after only a year without at least trying to fix the issue.”
“So… I’m an ‘issue’ now?”
Rendro cocked his head in response, as though the answer to that question was painfully obvious. “Of course you are, and rightfully so. They don’t send a full telepath with my curriculum vitae for minor psychiatric interventions, Captain.”
* * *
Lightner was waiting just inside the hatchway leading to Gibraltar’s cavernous main shuttlebay as the Arrow-class runabout settled onto the deck. The hatch opened as a team of robot servitors scuttled out of their storage bays to begin servicing the craft.
A humanoid male of roughly middle age and clad in subdued civilian clothes exited the runabout. He looked Human, with vaguely Asian features, small in stature but appearing solidly built.
“I thought you DTI types always traveled in pairs,” came Lightner’s stilted greeting.
“Not this time, Captain,” came the man’s subtly accented reply. He extended a hand after a moment of waiting for Lightner to do so. “Special Agent Chev Pokrol, Department of Temporal Investigations.”
Lightner gave the man’s hand a perfunctory shake. “I was surprised they got someone here this quickly.”
“Time crystals from Boreth are exceedingly rare artifacts, Captain. It’s unheard of for the Klingons to allow any of them off planet. If this Romulan faction were to re-acquire them, or worse, if they have more of them, they could wreak enormous damage to the integrity of our timeline.”
“So, you’re here to assume custody of the crystals?” Lightner asked.
“No, not yet, anyway. I’m simply the tip of the spear. We’ll have a full research team on the way here shortly.”
Pokrol reached into a pocket, producing an isolinear optical wafer. He held it out to Lightner. “Your orders, Captain. Starfleet Command, specifically Admiral Gborie, has instructed you to give DTI full cooperation on this mission.”
Lightner hesitated, staring at the tiny chip and all it portended. Servitors busied themselves in the background unloading cargo pallets containing specialized DTI equipment.
“Captain?” Pokrol prompted.
“Yes, of course,” Lightner said, taking the chip from him.
“I’ll take an hour to get settled into my guest accommodations, and then I’ll need to see the crystals and speak with Dr. Kemet.”
Lightner dipped his head. “Of course, Special Agent.”
“Pokrol’s just fine, Captain Lightner.”
* * *
“Astounding,” Pokrol murmured, looking between the crystals encased in the temporal analysis chamber and the readouts on the half-dozen holographic displays floating above the articulation frame.
Dr. Kemet looked on, equally engrossed with the analysis. “Their potential appears almost limitless.”
“That’s the intoxicating bit, and their most profound danger,” Pokrol replied, tearing himself away from the sensor telemetry to look at Kemet. “The Klingons could well have conquered the quadrant using temporal technology, but they found it to be so unpredictable that they buried that whole line of research… literally. They killed every scientist involved with those studies. Nobody still living knows why. They must have seen something so horrific that it dwarfed the military potential of their application.”
Lightner stepped forward, glancing across at his science officer, Lt. Avritt. She stood with her arms crossed, leaning against a workstation and listening intently to the two temporal-science experts.
“Could these Revisionists actually have achieved their goals with these crystals?” Lightner asked.
Pokrol shook his head. “We don’t know. It’s entirely possible they could, or equally possible they might have shredded our established timeline in the attempt.” He gestured towards the crystals. “We call them ‘time crystals’ because their temporal properties are their most obvious, but as these readings confirm, their energy shells extend deep into the subspace realm, granting them spatial as well as temporal effects.”
Lightner frowned. “Meaning…?”
“Meaning that triggering the crystals could have physical as well as temporal results. Let’s say the Revisionists had used these to try and save Romulus, or bring it forward in time somehow. They could, theoretically, physically displace the planet as well as relocate it in the time-stream. Now, the resulting gravimetric and temporal stresses that would create on both ends could be catastrophic—”
“Could, might, may,” Lightner erupted suddenly, his frustration evident. “This is all well and good from your theoretical standpoint, but we’re going to need concrete answers to some of these questions.”
“Captain, sir,” Avritt interjected. “That’s what they’re trying to tell us. There aren’t any absolute certainties when dealing with phenomena like this. We simply don’t know enough about them, about what they’re capable of. It’s like someone handing a tricorder to a Neanderthal.”
Pokrol nodded enthusiastically. “That’s it, exactly. DTI has been studying these kinds of phenomena for over a century, and we’ve only just scratched the surface. We’ve conducted experiments into changing the time-stream, but only minutely, at the atomic level. We’ve shifted the temporal signature of a single atom. Sometimes we observe very slight changes to surrounding quantum particles, and other times we see nothing. We’ve begun to suspect that often as not, shifting an object temporally might cause the branching off of an alternate timeline.”
“Starfleet has proven that there appear to be a near-infinite number of alternate realities honeycombed throughout subspace,” Avritt added.
“Precisely,” Pokrol agreed, smiling broadly. “So, if you did manage to travel forward or backward in time, you might be reappearing in a very similar quantum reality to your own, possibly only divergent by a change in the spin of a single subatomic particle, but still not your reality of origin.”
Lightner rubbed his temples, already well beyond his depth. “Okay, I’m going to leave you three to it.” He glanced at Pokrol. “Where from here?”
“That depends, Captain. Later today we’ll be working on ascertaining if there’s any quantum-entanglement indicators that there are other time crystals in the vicinity, say within twenty light-years. If the Revisionists have more of them, we might be able to determine where they’re at.”
“Okay, keep me informed. I’ll be in my rea… I’ll be on the bridge.”
With that, Lightner ducked out of the compartment, knowing only two things with certainty. One, he’d need an analgesic for his growing headache, and two, that Admiral Janeway had been absolutely correct in her assessment of the frustrations born of temporal mechanics.
* * *
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Thank you for the feedback! Yes, Lightner's been subjected to quite a bit during his time in uniform (as we discovered in this latest installment) and something's definitely come back to bite him.
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