The Star Eagle Adventures: QD3 - Uncertainty Principle

2


She had tried to sleep again. A couple of times.

But after spending hours merely tossing and turning in her sheets, unable to find any kind of meaningful rest, she had ultimately given up on the idea altogether.

Sleepless nights weren’t a new thing to Tazla Star.

Years earlier, when she had worked as an intelligence agent, she had made the fateful decision to expose her body to Syndicate-Y, a powerful and addictive drug common among the Orion Syndicate in order to better keep their operatives in line. The decision had benefited her mission in the short term but she had found it impossible to kick the habit entirely afterward and had spent countless miserable years addicted to a substance that kept her body and mind on constant edge, rarely allowing her a full night’s sleep.

She had finally conquered the worst aspects of her addiction thanks to the efforts of Elijah Katanga just a few months earlier and had begun to enjoy routinely sleeping five to six hours a night, something that would have been nearly impossible before, and not just because of the war.

She took a long sonic shower in lieu of sleep, trying to shake off any lingering sense of enervation and to successfully overcome the gentle pangs craving a quick shot of Y.

By the time she was done, she could see from the viewports of her quarters that the ship had dropped out of warp.

But instead of being greeted by the colorful starscape of the Amargosa Diaspora, all she could see was a dense field of icy asteroids that made it virtually impossible to spot anything beyond it with the naked eye. It led her to believe that they were currently hiding inside an Oort Cloud.

It bothered her immensely that she didn’t know their exact whereabouts or that she had no access to the latest mission updates. She hated the feeling of being out of the loop. As the first officer, it was not a feeling she was overly familiar with.

It was worse knowing that the captain was still missing and that by any rights, she was supposed to be overseeing the ship and crew and their efforts to retrieve Owens.

It didn’t take her long to decide to get dressed and head for the bridge.

Her arrival went mostly unnoticed by the senior staff that was discussing a space station visible on the main screen. An ugly squat construct that had somehow, quite impressively she had to admit, been grafted to the inside of a broken-up moon orbiting a bright gas giant.

“I can no longer detect the source of the captain’s signal,” said DeMara Deen from operations as her fingers danced over the console. “But our latest triangulation puts him either on this station or in near proximity of it.”

“What do we know about the station?” said Tazla as she slowly made her way down the ramp connecting the aft part of the bridge to the command area.

All eyes turned to her, including Xylion’s who smoothly stood from the captain’s chair and added a raised eyebrow to indicate his surprise at finding her on the bridge. “Commander, may I remind you that you are still off duty.”

“Certainly not.”

“I do not wish to confine you to quarters, sir, but Doctor Katanga was very specific about his instructions and I do not intend to ignore them,” the Vulcan continued.

She raised her hands defensively. The last thing she needed now was to have a security team drag her back to sickbay. Once she was in Elijah’s care again, she’d be stuck down there for the next week. “I’m not here to take command. I’m just observing,” she said, and then to stress her point she took a seat not in her usual chair to the right of the captain’s seat, but on one of the jump chairs on the far left of it. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

Both Deen and Alendra at the helm couldn’t quite suppress grins as they watched her take a seat.

Xylion, of course, didn’t smile. It took him a moment to consider his next move, no doubt running through regulations in his mind concerning off-duty officers and their access rights to the bridge during medical leave.

He ultimately decided to tolerate her presence with a minuscule nod and then glanced at Deen. “Are you able to detect the captain or the away team on the station?”

Deen quickly turned back to her console. “Not at this distance and if I move the sensor probe any closer to the station we risk it being detected. However, I am reading several different races. There are over five-thousands beings on board, it wouldn’t be difficult to hide a couple of humans and Krellonian life signs among all that activity.”

“Which means we need to get over there,” said Tazla, immediately causing Xylion to look her way again. “I mean, that’s what I would do if I were in command. Which, to be clear, I’m not,” she said, avoiding eye contact with the man who was.

“It won’t be easy. The probe we launched is fairly small but they would most certainly see us coming the moment we leave the Kuiper belt,” said Deen.

“A shuttle then?” Tazla said

Xylion was about to speak up but Leva beat him to it. “We could attempt an in-system warp jump from inside the belt to the far side of the gas giant and from there it should be relatively easy to get to the moon station.”

Deen nodded along. “The moon is gravitationally locked to the gas giant. It does not rotate on its own axis and keeps the station perpetually facing away from the planet. It should be possible to approach the moon from the gas giant undetected.”

The Vulcan science officer considered the bridge officers for a moment, most likely carrying out his own calculations as to the soundness of their logic.

“Seems like a plan to me,” said Tazla with a little smile.

The science officer looked at the half-Romulan at the tactical board. “Do sensors detect any Dominion activity in the area?”

He shook his head. “None at present. But that could change.”

Tazla thought she could see the barest hint of indecision on Xylion’s face. He was Vulcan of course, logical to a fault. But he was also a science officer first and foremost, not used to having to make command decisions, certainly not the kind that could determine the fate of the entire ship and crew, not to mention, quite possibly, an entire universe.

She wasn’t exactly comfortable with the stakes either but she was confident with what needed to be done. “If anyone were interested in what I think, I believe our best chance of finding the captain and the away team is to go over there and have a look around. We’re not going to accomplish anything from staying here,” she said and then leaned back in her seat. “Of course, that’s merely a suggestion on the account of me being off-duty.”

Xylion considered her only briefly before his eyes found Leva once more. “Commander, assemble an away team and board the station via shuttlecraft. Ensure you conceal your appearance and life signs to not cause suspicion. Your primary mission is to locate the captain and to avoid any and all unnecessary contact with local elements on the station.”

Leva, who was also the ship’s third officer, offered a sharp nod in response and then indicated for Deen to let her know that he wanted her to come along, prompting her to quickly leave her station to follow him to the turbolift.

“If it were me going over there,” she said just before Leva and Deen had reached the lift, “I’d make sure to take some of the Niners with me to cover my back. And I’d take some holo-masks as well. They worked out fairly well last time.”

She was pretty certain that Leva’s tactical acumen had already told him much the same thing but then she couldn’t quite help herself.

She heard the turbolift doors open and close, knowing that her message had been received.

Xylion took the captain’s chair again. “Commander, I believe I would prefer that you observe events in silence, considering your current status.”

She raised her hands again. “You won’t hear another peep out of me,” she said innocently but already fully aware that Xylion’s request was going to challenge her immensely.

 

Hard to keep an anxious Star down... She'll end up running the show despite everyone else's wishes. Nice punchy chapter - certainly should give Xylion something to think about. There's rules, and then there's logic. They do not always point to the same conclusions.

Thanks!! rbs

 

I agree with RBS. If Michael Owens is ever snuffed out, you've got a viable successor on your hands. Hopefully, he never is. Of course, after her experiences aboard the Sacajawea, she might not want a captaincy again. Who knows where the stellar breezes will blow?

 

3


Their plan to approach the station undetected had unfolded without a hitch as So’Dan Leva had initiated a computer-assisted in-system warp jump from the Kuiper belt directly into the upper thermosphere of the gas giant while their destination, their broken moon, awaited on the opposite side of the planet.

Next, taking the shuttle as low as the shields of the Agincourt would allow in the hostile atmosphere of the gas giant, he piloted it all the way around the planet until he carried out a pre-planned, high-impulse approach toward the near side of the moon where he landed the shuttle on the airless and rocky surface.

“No sign that we have been detected,” said Deen who sat in the co-pilot seat. “I’ve located the station and I’m carrying out passive scans now.”

“Can you detect the captain or the rest of the away team?” he asked.

She shook her head after just a few moments. “Passive scans won’t be powerful enough to distinguish individual biosignatures. But I have located a section of the station with little traffic. That’s probably our best beam-in point.”

“We’re ready when you are.”

So’Dan swiveled around in his chair to face the rest of the away team. He was greeted by four unfamiliar faces.

The two men and two women were noticeably Krellonian as was evident by the smooth and earless sides of their heads.

“Who are you and what have you done with the away team?” said DeMara Deen who had turned her chair as well.

The woman on the right smirked as she reached for her neck, causing her entire head to shimmer for a moment before it was replaced by the more familiar short-haired, strawberry-blonde Bajoran and chief security officer.

The other three followed suit to reveal their true identities as well. The tall, broad-shouldered, red-bearded Niner team leader Sensabaugh, the equally burly, dark-skinned human operative who went by the call sign One-Shot and the brunette, diminutive human Ensign Leila Adams. Leva had chosen the nurse in case they came across the captain and he or his team required immediate medical assistance. He hadn’t been comfortable taking the octogenarian doctor Katanga along, not necessarily because of his age but rather due to his infamous temperament, and although his chief nurse didn’t have much away team experience, she had scored high on the relevant aptitude tests.

“You do of course realize, that in this reality, the Krellonians don’t appear to be the dominant race in the Star Alliance,” said Leva.

“We already had these templates so they’ll have to do on short notice. Besides, our intelligence does show a large concentration of Krellonians on the station. It should allow us to blend in better than boarding as ourselves,” said Nora.

So’Dan nodded, acceding to the point, and got out of his chair.

Deen in the meantime was strapping on a backpack.

“We’re trying to retrieve the captain, Dee,” he said. “This isn’t a hiking trip.”

“I believe in being prepared,” she said as she affixed a thumbnail-sized metallic disc to her neck that Nora had passed her. Not a moment later her entire appearance changed. Her long blonde hair was replaced by a short dark buzz cut, her ears vanished from the side of her head and her purple eyes turned to a hazel color. Her face was practically unrecognizable as all traces of her Tenarian nature were gone along with her attractive looks and, Leva had to admit, her oftentimes distracting pulchritude that, as far as he was concerned, could be as much of a liability as it was an advantage. He had half a mind to suggest she kept the holo-mask for future missions but then decided that it wasn’t his place to make such a recommendation.

He applied his own disguise that did little to hide his tall and muscular stature but removed any traces of his Romulan heritage, mostly his tapering ears, and gave him a haircut he felt was so repulsive that he avoided looking at his reflection more than once.

A few minutes later the six-man strong away team materialized inside the moon base, on one of the lower decks Deen had identified and that was primarily used for storage and ore processing.

The narrow corridor they found themselves in was empty, allowing Deen to refer to her tricorder. After a moment she shook her head. “No wonder we couldn’t get any detailed scans earlier. The main material they are mining here is kelbonite. It’s well known to interfere with sensors.”

“Naturally,” Leva said, trying his best to mask his frustration. “So how do you suggest we find the captain?”

“I suppose we do this the old-fashioned way,” said Nora. It took So’Dan a moment to realize it had been the Bajoran since her disguise gave no clue to her true appearance. “We search this place section by section. I suggest we separate into three groups that way we can cover more ground.”

“I agree,” said Deen. “We best avoid the upper two decks. Although I can’t get clear scans, I can see that there is significant activity up here and I cannot imagine our people would try to hide in a crowd.”

So’Dan nodded and the team broke up with clear instructions to stay in contact. He and Deen stayed on the current deck to search it, while Nora and Adams took the deck below and the two SMT operators started on the deck below that one.

So’Dan found the station to be dirty and poorly maintained. Even basic functions like lighting and gravity plating were not routinely functioning, something that became quite apparent when, after they turned into another corridor and his head nearly collided with a floating hyperspanner somebody had haphazardly discarded.

Deen pulled him back just before he stepped into the low gravity area and as he began to feel weightless.

He shot her a thankful look while silently cursing his own inattentiveness and, not for the first time, wondering if the many years spent as a bridge officer, stationed day after day behind the tactical board, had not dulled his senses.

In his younger days, as a security officer, he would never have missed such an obvious hazard, he was certain. But then again, he mused, perhaps his future had other things in store for him. He had flirted with command when he had briefly been made first officer on what had turned out to be a disastrous tenure on another ship a few months earlier. And although the command structure on that ship had been toxic at best, there had been elements of being an executive officer he had enjoyed, and perhaps, one day, he would try his hands at it again, hopefully with much better results.

Deen nodded toward a small group of Krellonians huddling in a corner. Three men who looked tired and hungry and who were likely on a break from working the ore processing units.

So’Dan cautiously headed toward them. “Greetings,” he said.

The men looked up only briefly, just long enough to give them both quick nods, before they turned back to the meager provisions they had with them.

“I was hoping you could help us find somebody.”

“Not much to find on Amargosa Station,” said the first man.

“Unless you’re looking for ore,” said the second to which the other two chuckled quietly.

“Or a good beating.” This from the third, eliciting more chortling from the others.

Deen took a step forward. “We’re looking for some friends of ours who visited the station. We’d be very thankful for any help you could give us.”

So’Dan recognized the tone in her voice. It was the same she often employed when her natural Tenarian charm kicked in. It had a tendency to make people pay attention, and sometimes even go out of their way to be of assistance.

All three men looked up at Deen as if mesmerized by the tone of her voice.

But So’Dan could quickly tell that it didn’t last.

“If they came here to visit, you better hope it was a very short one,” said the first man and then turned back to the others.

Deen gave Leva a look and shrugged, clearly not certain what else to try.

“Nora to Leva. Commander, we may have found something.”

The voice coming from So’Dan’s hidden communicator startled the three men briefly and he decided to step away to take the call. He tapped the concealed badge underneath his tunic. “Go ahead, Lieutenant,” he said once he was certain the Krellonians couldn’t overhear him.

“Level four, section twelve. One of the large cargo holds.”

“What have you found?” he asked.

“Something happened in there. Access has been restricted,” she said.

“Some sort of accident?”

She hesitated a moment. “Not sure why they would need to post heavily armed guards if it was just an accident.”

He understood it was their best lead. “Tell everyone to regroup at your position, we’ll be there shortly. Leva out.”

Reaching the section Nora had referred to hadn’t been all that straightforward. Turbolifts were mainly reserved for ore transportation and numerous armed guards were patrolling level four.

At Deen’s suggestion, they took a narrow, winding staircase all the way down to deck five, crossed half that deck, and then took a similar staircase back up to eventually converge with the rest of the away team.

Nora pointed at the heavy doors further down a dark hallway. Two Outlander guards with rifles were posted in front of it. “Haven’t seen anyone go in or out in the last twenty minutes.”

Deen was referring to her tricorder. “There is some activity inside.”

“The captain?” So’Dan asked.

“Still can’t distinguish individual bio-signatures with all this kelbonite interference,” she said apologetically.

“Guess we’ll have to go and see,” he said.

Nora and two SMT operators got the message.

So’Dan watched on as they quickly and easily neutralized the guards, both the humanoid as well as the much fiercer-looking lupine. It all happened so quickly, he would have missed it had he blinked.

“They sure know what they’re doing, don’t they?” said Ensign Leeta, similarly impressed.

So’Dan and the others quickly made their way to the doors and Deen, using her tricorder, managed to circumvent the lock nearly as quickly as Nora and her team had taken out the guards.

The doors opened, they dragged the unconscious guards inside and then sealed the doors again from the inside.

They were greeted by a massive hold filled nearly to the ceiling with containers stacked on top of each other.

There was an eerie quiet in the air, and all So’Dan could hear was the soft trilling of Deen’s tricorder.

She noticed it too and promptly muted the sound. She gave him hand signals: Six, maybe seven, undetermined bio readings, excluding theirs.

So’Dan reached for his hand phaser and indicated for the rest of the team to split up into their groups again with each taking one of the many narrow pathways between the rows of cargo containers.

He absolutely hated their tactical position. Sneaking through an unknown maze of containers that was laid out as if somebody had intended on creating a bizarre labyrinth, in weak light conditions and an unknown number of likely hostile forces lying in wait was all well and good in a cheap holo-novel adventure, but in reality, it was both stressful and highly dangerous.

He was just about to make another right turn when Deen reached for his upper arm, holding him back.

She indicated that there were one or two biosigns in close proximity.

He nodded to acknowledge and then, pressing his back against the container, he approached the junction ahead carefully to allow him to spy around the corner.

True enough, a slender humanoid Outlander was kneeling on the floor, hovering over a body. He had a rifle in hand but had his back to them.

As he could see no other threats nearby, and knowing that a phaser strike was going to create too much noise, he sneaked up on the soldier quietly.

The Outlander seemed to sense something as he began to turn just as So’Dan was close enough to reach him.

So’Dan’s grabbed the man in a headlock and applied pressure.

The soldier was stronger than he had appeared and managed to get onto his feet while reaching for his weapon.

Seeing no other choice, So’Dan took hold of the back of the man’s head and slammed it forward, smashing him face-first into a nearby container.

The amount of blood led him to believe that he had broken the man’s nose, but more importantly, the force of the impact had made him lose consciousness and he crumbled to the floor, next to the other body he had been looking over.

It had not been a silent takedown at all and So’Dan quickly whirled around to see if he had attracted unwanted attention.

He saw a large, reptilian soldier coming around another corner, his rifle already at the ready. So’Dan knew immediately that the Outlander was going to get a shot off before he could get his own phaser up.

The green-hued reptilian stumbled backward as he was struck by a phaser beam that So’Dan realized had come from Deen’s weapon.

The Outlander lost his balance only for a moment, falling against the container behind him, but managed to keep upright and held on to his rifle.

So’Dan wasted no time and opened fire himself, striking him square across the chest.

The twin phaser beams pushed him back again but incredibly, he remained upright, his thick and scaled skin clearly sufficient to protect him even from a double dose of stunning phaser beams.

Both So’Dan and Deen fired again, one beam making contact with his upper shoulder, the other with his lower torso. This time they kept firing for a good three seconds until the large reptile’s back hit the container behind him and then slowly sagged down, unconscious.

“So much for a silent infiltration,” said Deen after all the noise they had caused.

“Couldn’t be helped,” he said and thought he spotted an open area up ahead from where the reptile had emerged from. “Let’s go.”

They found another humanoid hostile on top of a container as they emerged into the open area and although he was turned their way, So’Dan was quicker and more accurate with his phaser and the Outlander fell from his elevated position to crash onto the floor, So’Dan had no doubt he’d feel that landing once he woke up.

The unconscious soldier joined at least eight other bodies all littering the floor, including Krellonians and various Outlander species.

Deen quickly began to look over the bodies. “Most are dead,” she said. “Whatever killed them, it wasn’t long ago.”

So’Dan was more concerned with all the other openings and pathways converging on their position and took his time to scan each in turn.

He thought he heard something just behind him and whirled around with his phaser only to come face-to-face with a burly Krellonian who had him dead to rights.

 

“Easy, same side,” the Krellonian said.

It took So’Dan a moment to realize that he was looking at the human who went by the nickname One-Shot.

Seconds later the disguised Sensy emerged from another pathway and then Nora along with Leeta.

So’Dan lowered his weapon.

“I had a run-in with a hostile,” Sensy said as he approached the others. “He’s been neutralized.”

“Two,” said Boom casually with a little smirk on his alien lips.

“I took care of two more,” said Nora. “And this isn’t a competition.”

“Good thing, too,” said So’Dan. “Because if it were, we would have won since we eliminated three.”

Nora was already helping Deen inspect the bodies. “Is the captain here?”

Deen shook her head. “Thankfully, no. All these bodies are dead.”

“Anyone else from his away team?” he asked. Although their main mission was to retrieve the captain, he knew Culsten had been with him and was part of their rescue mission, as was the captain’s father. Garla, the Krellonian agent was a secondary objective as far as he was concerned.

“No, these appear to be Outlander guards and Krellonians,” she said.

“I don’t get it,” said Nora as she looked over a Krellonian who had been killed by phaser fire. “The Krellonians are treated little better than slave laborers here. Was this some sort of uprising?”
So’Dan joined her to study the dead woman and could quickly tell that she was dressed differently from the Krellonians they had met on the station. “I don’t think so. They don’t look like laborers at all.”

Nora nodded after she had moved on to another body. “You’re right. I believe these are resistance fighters.”

So’Dan knew well that Nora was well-versed in those matters. After all, she had been a rebel herself in her youth, when fighting the Cardassians who had occupied Bajor. No doubt she saw a little bit of herself in these downed rebels. He could only guess how many dead resistance fighters she had seen in her life. Judging by the hard look in her eyes, far more than she would care to admit.

“So the question is what happened here and is it related to our people,” said Adams after she had joined looking over the bodies, trying to find anyone who could still receive her care.

“We don’t have much time to find out. Once these guys fail to report back in, this place will be swarming with enough soldiers to make our life extremely uncomfortable,” said Sensy who, along with his fellow Niner, had kept his weapon at the ready, scanning the various points of ingress.

Deen had un-slung her backpack. “Time to use one of my new toys then.”

So’Dan watched her curiously as she retrieved a cylindrical object maybe half a meter in height. She tapped a couple of commands and the device quickly grew to over a meter. Three small feet sprung out from the bottom, allowing her to place it in the middle of the open space.

“What is that thing?” Nora asked.

Deen smirked. “Something Xyl and I have been working on. He insists on giving it a long, boring, and complicated designation. I’m calling it an Echolocation Construct Holographic Overlay or ECHO for short.”

The Bajoran responded to that with a tired look.

Deen shrugged. “I’m still workshopping the name,” she said and then worked her tricorder again, causing the device to come to life, instantly shooting out a blue light that swept their immediate surroundings. “It uses sensor data to attempt and reconstruct recent events. It does so by utilizing variations in ambient temperatures like heat signatures and molecular changes in the environment. It only works for a limited time frame but if we’re lucky—“

To So’Dan’s surprise, several holographic bodies appeared all around them, but these were very much alive. It wasn’t exactly what one would expect in a holodeck, the constructs were crude and rendered in blue light, but it was enough to make out certain surface details.

“And I thought we had all the best toys,” said One-Shot, equally impressed.

“This is a representation of the room approximately one hour ago,” said Deen. “According to this, there were seven individuals here at the time.”

Nora approached one of the blue figures in the back. “I can’t be certain but I think this looks like Lif,” she said as she studied the construct closely.

“And this is the captain,” Deen said, regarding another figure.

So’Dan wasn’t nearly as sure, the figure looked like it could have been Owens but then again, it could have been any other human as well. Considering how well Deen knew the captain, he decided to take her word for it. “I’m assuming the other ones include Admiral Owens and Garla.”

She nodded as she regarded the other figures that hadn’t been accounted for yet. “If I had to guess, I’d say this is Doctor Frobisher and this one here is Matthew Owens, Michael’s brother in this universe. They must have all left Arkaria together.”

“Then who is this?” said So’Dan pointing at the seventh figure he was certain was female.

“She looks familiar,” she said. “But I’m not sure.”

“All right, so we know the captain and the rest of his team were here. But we still don’t know where they are now,” said Nora.

“Well, ECHO can do much more than just give us a single snapshot. Give me a second,” she said as she tapped a few commands into her tricorder.

The constructs began to move. Slowly at first until Deen adjusted the speed.

So’Dan watched the figure they had identified as Garla leaving the group which he thought was very suspicious.

A few seconds later, but it could have been minutes in real-time, more figures approached as people emerged from almost all of the narrow walkways.

“This one looks a great deal like Lif too,” said Nora as she looked over one of the new constructs.

Then things happened very quickly and Deen slowed down the playback.

There was weapons fire that was represented by bright blue flashes. People were scrambling for cover and firing back.

So’Dan kept his focus on the captain who appeared unarmed, judging by the fact that he wasn’t returning fire.

“An ambush,” said Nora.

So’Dan had seen it too.

He also spotted the unidentified woman returning fire. Not only that, she seemed to provide cover for the captain.

The ambushers seemed to focus their fire on the newcomers, rather than on the captain’s team and So’Dan quickly realized that they were Outlander soldiers, trying to take down what he believed were the Krellonian rebels.

At least half of the rebels went down in the opening moments of the ambush.

The man who looked like Lif Culsten took down a few attackers but was ultimately shot in the shoulder and then lost his weapon.

With soldiers bearing down on him, it seemed as if he was doomed.

That is until somebody else reappeared out of seemingly nowhere. He assumed that she must have jumped down from some of the higher containers, and from outside the range of the ECHO device.

She moved like a whirlwind, dispatching three attackers with quick strikes and powerful kicks, before retrieving a dropped weapon and coming up firing.

“Garla,” he said.

“Say about that woman what you will,” said Sensy. “But she does know how to handle herself in a fight.”

Of that, there was little doubt. She provided enough of a distraction that it allowed the away team to find weapons the Krellonians had lost when they had been killed and return fire before all of them, including the other Culsten and the remaining rebels, managed to retreat through one of the walkways.

Then everything went very still and So’Dan didn’t miss that the remaining constructs remained almost exactly where their dead but real-life bodies were now positioned.

Deen fast-forwarded again to reveal the shadows of additional Outlanders coming in to investigate the scene up until the point So’Dan and his away team arrived.

“That’s a neat tool,” said Leeta.

“Thanks,” said Deen with a smile and then reset the ECHO to show the scene just before they had arrived.

“Okay, so we know the captain and the away team made it out of here but now what?” said Nora who was obviously a little harder to impress.

So’Dan glanced around the remaining bodies. Something was off.

All the constructs occupied the same space as their real counterparts except for one. He stepped closer to the anomaly to realize that there was a holograph of an Outlander humanoid lying on the floor except that there wasn’t a real body anywhere in sight. “What happened to this guy?”

Nora saw it too. “Maybe he got moved by his friends?”

But So’Dan didn’t remember seeing that in the playback. “Dee, play it again.”

She did and in quick order, the mystery was solved.

The Outlander was shot by Garla and he dropped where he had been hit. Then, at some point, after the away team had made their exit, he crawled away from where he had fallen, very slowly as if injured.

Weapons in hand, So’Dan and Nora followed his path until it disappeared inside a container.

He gave her the signal to open it.

She did and he aimed his phaser inside.

The soldier was sitting up against a row of barrels, bleeding profusely, eyes closed his breath ragged and shallow.

“Ensign,” So’Dan called.

Leeta quickly joined him and upon seeing the injured soldier took a knee next to him without delay and retrieved her medkit. “He’s got internal injuries and has lost a lot of blood.”

“Can you stabilize him?”

“I can try.”

“Do it. He’s our best chance right now to get some answers.”

She did as she was told, using tools from the kit to try and stop the bleeding.

“Commander, I hate to rush,” said Sensy, the Niners squad leader. “But I think we’re about to have company.”

So’dan nodded and took a knee next to the man opposite Leeta. “Can you wake him up?”

“I wouldn’t recommend this, sir.”

“Do it anyway.”

She sighed. “Doctor Katanga would kill me if he knew I did this to a patient in this condition.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

The ensign nodded gingerly and then applied a hypospray to his neck.

A moment later his eyes fluttered open.

“Solider, can you hear me?” Leva said, purposefully making his voice sound more authoritative than usual, hoping to be able to trick him to believe he was being addressed by one of his own people.

The Outlander mumbled something quietly.

Not good enough for So’Dan. He grabbed the man by his shoulders, ignoring Leeta’s frown, and shook him. “Soldier, you are safe now. But it is imperative you tell us about the rebels. Can you tell us where they went?”

“I … pain.”

So’Dan glanced up at the ensign and she gave him another anesthetic.

“Solider, do you remember anything? Any clue as to where they went. Perhaps something you’ve overheard. You’ll be rewarded greatly if you did.”

“Lead Belly,” he mumbled. “Said something about a ship. Lead Belly.”

So’Dan nodded. “Well done, soldier,” he said and patted him lightly on the shoulder before glancing back at the nurse who took this opportunity to put him under again.

He stood and regarded Deen. “That might help us.”

“If we get back to the ship, we may be able to use passive sensors to detect ships that have recently left the station,” she said.

“I suggest the sooner the better,” Sensy called from outside the container.

Leeta stood as well. “Sir, I request we take him with us. I’m not sure if he’s going to make it if we leave him here. At least on Eagle he’s got a chance. It would be only fair considering what we’ve done to him.”

He had to admit that he was impressed with her commitment to her craft. Something he would have expected from Doctor Wenera or Katanga, perhaps not so much from a young nurse.

“The universe isn’t a fair place, Ensign,” Nora shot back quickly. “He’s only going to slow us down.”

But So’Dan had made up his mind. “We’ll take him. Let’s double-time it.”

 

And a double-shot... Someone had to make something like the ECHO - it's a concept I've seen in various sci-fi before. If you're going to have a toy like that it has to be wonky, low-res and unreliable or it will quickly start generating plot-holes. (Why didn't they just use the thingy?) Of course they could try to plug it into the shuttle to try to figure out where Lead Belly is and end up frying it (and maybe the shuttle's sensors as well...)

Always fun to see the 9ers on mission. Actually quite enjoying Leva being a little rusty and needing some help from Deen to keep his boots on the ground. His decision to bring along the wounded dude is a dangerous gamble, but one that could pay big dividends. Good leadership moment.

I can see them being worried about Katanga not because of his age, but because he's a stubborn, cantankerous old cuss. But I suspect Katanga can handle himself in the field and show them all a trick or two. It's not like he's never done field work... That would be fun to see.

Thanks!! rbs

 

4


Their escape from Amargosa Station had been a very narrow thing and they had not achieved it without some pain and bruises.

Jonathan Owens, who Michael was convinced was, if not too old, certainly far too weak to run and evade armed attackers, had twisted his ankle during their frantic dash through the station’s narrow corridors and back onto the Lead Belly.

Matthew and Michael had been forced to carry him in-between each other for the last leg and then deposited him carefully into one of the cramped cabins Amaya Donners had made available to them.

By the time they had gotten him onto the cot, Michael had felt the deck plates lurch hard underneath his boots, a clear sign that the ship had rather violently separated from the station and after just a few seconds he could feel the telltale shudder of a sudden warp acceleration.

“This is turning out to be an awful day,” Jonathan Owens said as he winced painfully while he was being lowered onto the cot. “But seeing the two of you working together is almost making all of this worth it.”

Matthew noticeably recoiled at those words and stepped back. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Michael regarded the man who resembled his brother so closely it was still both painful and miraculous to look at him. “Matthew, just let it go.”

The other man looked at him as if he had lost his mind and then took a step back, shaking his head. “Let it go? You’re just as insane as he is. Wes and I were living a good, peaceful life until you two came along. Within less than a day of meeting you, I’ve been nearly killed by Jem’Hadar troops, likely lost my home and my livelihood, been nearly killed by Outlander soldiers, and have become a wanted man by two governments who are well known to hold on to grudges indefinitely. You have ruined my life.”

“All of life is at stake, son.” Jon Owens said.

“I don’t want to hear it anymore, do you understand?” he said, piercing the man on the cot with a hard stare. “And get it through that old skull of yours for once and for all. I am not your son. You are nothing to me but a stranger. That goes for both of you. Stay away from me,” he said, turned on his heel, and left the cabin.

“He always had a stubborn streak,” Jon said after he had left.

Michael couldn’t help but smirk. “He got that from his father.”

“He’ll come around.”

Michael considered Jon Owens who had closed his eyes. He looked impossibly paler and weaker than ever before, this last episode had clearly pushed him way too far. “He is not wrong.”

“We might all be from different universes but there is a connection between us, I’m convinced of it. And you’ve felt it too, haven’t you? Deep down you know there is. That’s why you accepted me as your father ever since you’ve met me.”

“It’s because you lied to me.”

“There’s more than that.”

Michael felt his anger rising at this man’s hubris. But he also understood that he couldn’t afford to get lost in useless emotions and so he decided to let it go. At least for now. “Let me have a look at that ankle,” he said and rolled up his right pants sleeve.

“I’m dying, Michael.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be a drama queen. It’s just a twisted ankle.”

Jon Owens propped himself up on his elbows. “I don’t have much more time. I can feel it.”

Michael glanced up. “What can I do?”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing anyone can do. My body is breaking down on a cellular level. I’ve likely already lost the ability to heal my injuries. You’d just be wasting your time.”

Michael stood back up finding it increasingly difficult to keep his anger in check.

“Just let me rest for a while,” Jon said, apparently being able to spot Michael’s growing frustration.

He nodded and turned to leave.

“Michael.”

He faced him once more by the doorstep.

“Just make him see, will you?”

“I’ll tell you what I told him,” he said. “Let it go.”

“That’s the one thing I cannot do.”

After leaving Jon Owens to rest in his cabin, Michael headed straight to the common area on the deck where he found Garla, Culsten as well as his local alter ego who had followed them onto the Lead Belly, along with a handful of Krellonians who had managed to survive the Outlander ambush on the station.

Garla who Michael was convinced had saved them all by her timely intervention and who had fought like a woman possessed, had not managed to get away unharmed.

She had taken a phaser blast to her side and she was now half sitting on one of the benches with Culsten Prime caring for her wound.

The sentinel had not been shy about removing the top half of her jumpsuit to reveal a nasty wound, and Michael very briefly marveled at the impeccable shape the woman kept herself in. It was likely the reason why she was still conscious.

“By the Creator, Lif, it’s like you’ve never used a dermal regenerator before,” she said as she winced in discomfort while he tried to apply the device to her wound.

“I’m not exactly working with state-of-the-art equipment here,” he said.

“Just let me do it,” she said and practically ripped the regenerator out of his hand.

“You’ll all be happy to know that there is no sign of pursuit,” said Amaya Donners as she strode into the room. “I’m crediting this to my nearly supernatural piloting abilities and lightning-fast reflexes.”

“There are no Outlander interceptors in the area,” said the other Culsten. “It’s why we chose this time for our meeting.” But even as he spoke his eyes were entirely glued to Garla on the other side of the room and Michael suspected it had little to do with her half-dressed state.

“You need to be very careful about your words here,” she said with noticeable irritation in her voice. “In fact, you should still be thanking me that I allowed your sorry ass to come on my ship after you nearly had us all killed back there.”

Her aggressive stance did not go over well with the few Krellonians who had accompanied him and who now reached for their weapons to confront Donners.

Amaya remained unimpressed, didn’t even reach for her own weapon dangling from her belt. “Really, that’s how you want to play this?”

Culsten waved them off and they backed down. “We are grateful for the assistance,” he said but only afforded her the briefest of glances before his focus returned on the sentinel treating herself. He took a few steps toward her and his counterpart. “Now, I need to know what is happening here. How is this possible?”

“Apparently, the universe is ending,” said Donners but with a total lack of the solemnity that statement seemed to call for.

“Who are you and where are you from?” Culsten said, ignoring Donners.

“If I had a slip of latinum for every time I’ve been hearing this lately,” Prime Culsten said as he watched Garla make pretty good progress on treating her wound.

“Listen,” said Michael, putting himself in-between the two sets of Krellonians, facing the natives. “Captain Donners is correct. The universe is in great danger and it is imperative that we get to Cygni-98 as quickly as possible. She seemed to believe that you would be able to get us there without having to fight our way through the Outlanders.”

But Culsten just stepped right passed him, approaching his doppelganger and his companion. “You are me. And you,” he said, focusing on the sentinel. “You are Garla.”

“Your abilities of deduction are incomparable,” said Garla while continuing to work on her injuries. “No wonder you’re a big deal here. Lif, perhaps you should get some pointers from your alter ego over there. Might do wonders for your career.”

Culsten Prime just scowled at her.

“How is this possible?” he said.

Garla looked up. “Let me guess. The Garla you knew was either a great hero or a great disappointment and she died in a horrible, and/or noble fashion.” When he didn’t speak right away, she continued. “We are from another universe on a mission, it seems, to save all universes. The sooner you accept that and don’t try to kill either one of us, the quicker we can get on with preventing the death of everything you’ve ever known.”

“This is a lot to take in,” he said.

Michael stepped up to him, not entirely appreciating Garla’s ironic and supersonic explanation of their circumstances. Not while this man was possibly their best chance to save the quantum-verse. “I understand. Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of time. There is an alien species out there that has constructed a massive particle accelerator hidden in subspace and powerful enough to wipe out entire realities. We have already witnessed two of them being destroyed. This one could be next if we don’t get to Cygni-98 within the next few hours.”

“And you’ve come from one of those other realities?” he said as he looked around.

Donners held up her hands. “Not me. I’m still making up my mind if this isn’t all just the worst tall tale I’ve ever heard. I’m not ashamed to say, I’m just in it for the money.”

“Can you help us get to Cygni-98?” Michael pressed.

“Cygni-98,” he said to himself. “That’s deep within Outlander-controlled territory. Their sensor net would pick us up long before we even get close. Considering they are already on high alert after what just happened, this wouldn’t be easy.”

“Easy?” Garla laughed and then immediately regretted doing so judging by her pain-induced grimace. “I don’t even remember easy.”

Culsten nodded. “I can help you. But first, you’ll have to do something for me.”

Michael emphatically shook his head. “We don’t have the time to delay any further. The stakes are simply too high.”

But Culsten stuck to his guns. “It’s the only way I will assist you. Besides, it might be the only way to get close to Cygni-98.”

“There’s always a catch,” said Prime Culsten.

Garla shot him a quizzical look as she zipped up her suit again.

“Just something Louise likes to say. It’s a human thing,” he responded.

She rolled her eyes.

“We need to get to the Piqus system,” Culsten said.

“Absolutely not,” both Prime Culsten and Garla said in unison.

“That was our destination before Donners asked for this meeting and quite possibly the reason the Outlanders caught up with us at Amargosa Station. Piqus VII is home to an Outlander prison camp. A lot of my best men are being held there and freeing them might very well turn the tide in our fight against Outlander oppression.”

Michael’s feelings mirrored those of Lif and Garla. “We can’t get involved in a rescue mission. I’m sorry, but if we don’t stop that supercollider from activating again, none of this will even matter.”

“Piqus VII is also the main control hub for the sensor net in this sector. I know how to disable it if you get me there. Trust me, you won’t get within half a light-year of Cygni-98 while the sensor net remains operational.”

Michael reached for his forehead, trying to stave off a headache that had never really gone away over the last few days. It was threatening to come back to full force now. His priority was clear, had been ever since he had started to understand the awesome consequences of allowing the Ring to activate again. And yet he understood that without allies like this Culsten, they had little chance to succeed. Being separated from Eagle made things worse, although he wasn’t sure how much their chances would have improved having his ship’s resources at hand considering what they were up against.

“If Piqus is as important as you say it is,” said Lif Prime, “how can we even hope to get close to it, let alone free prisoners and shut down a sensor net? You expect the few of us to go up against what must be a heavily fortified position.”

“I have that part covered,” he said. “I managed to obtain access codes that will allow us to enter the system without raising suspicions. Besides,” he said and he focused on the sentinel again. “My Garla was a great leader who inspired countless Krellonians to put up arms against the Outlander tyranny, including myself. But I have to say, she wasn’t even half the fighter you are. With you on our side, I am convinced we cannot fail.”

Garla stood from the bench, still moving a little gingerly after treating her injury, and then squared her shoulders as she faced the other Culsten. “Let’s just be clear about one thing. I’m nobody’s hero.”

“But you’ll help us,” he said, sounding hopeful.

She uttered a heavy sigh. “I suppose I’m all in on trying to save reality as we know it. Whatever it takes.”

He seemed almost ecstatic to hear this.

“Everybody pump your breaks,” said Donners and took a few steps closer to the rest of them. “You may have recalled that I mentioned that my services do not come for free. I was hired to get you all in touch with each other and considering the unexpected dangers to life and limb involved in that mission, I am due for some serious hazard payment. Payment, I haven’t even seen the first glimpse of yet, by the way.”

“I told you,” Michael said. “You will get paid in full as soon as we reunite with my ship.”

She shook her head. “That promise only gets you so far. It certainly doesn’t get you a free ride on my ship to a heavily defended Outlander outpost.”

“If my access codes are valid, and I have reason to believe that they are, we’ll be able to slip by Piqus defenses entirely unnoticed,” Lif Culsten said.

“You forgive me if I don’t put much stock into your word, seeing that you very nearly brought the entire Outlander military down on us,” she said with a grin but very little actual humor.

“You’ll get paid,” Michael said. “I’m willing to double what we’ve agreed on. Just get us to Piqus and as soon as my ship catches up with us, you’ll never have to deal with any of us again.”

Amaya Donners took her time to consider Michael’s words, her eyes sparkling as they focused on him like twin laser beams.

He knew what she was doing, scanning his face and his body language for any sign of deception. Any hint at all that what he was promising her was not in fact reality.

He did his level best to pass muster but in truth, he had rarely ever felt so uncomfortable in his life. He wasn’t used to lying and he hated the feeling it gave him. It was made harder by the fact that he was doing it to someone who shared a face and more with the woman he was in love with.

After what seemed to him like an eternity, that smirk returned to her lips. “Well, strap in, everybody. This promises to be one hell of a ride.”

 

I have to disagree with Michael. Garla's explanation is the best anyone has ever provided of their plight - with just the right combination of pith and frustration to make it believable. She's much more than a toney fighter - she has the gift of gab.

You've managed to pump some humor into this rather grim story both through Michael's exhausted acceptance cf his bizarrely fractured family and more through Garla's infectious appreciation of the irony of hers. Those two are bound to end up best frenemies before this is over.

Thanks!! rbs

 

5


She had been running for hours and there was no end in sight. The maze was infinite.

She had no idea where she was running to, all she knew with absolute certainty was that she could never stop.

Stopping meant a fate far worse than death.

And so she went on, running at full speed, only ever slowing down marginally to turn into yet another dark and narrow corridor, indistinguishable from the one she had left behind.

A million eyes were watching her, belonging to countless drones that stood like statues in their alcoves, lining the never-ending corridors, only their eyes following her, waiting. Waiting for her to stop, knowing that she would have to eventually. That she couldn’t run forever.

And then there were the voices.

The voices were the worst part.

She didn’t hear them with her ears, they penetrated deep into her soul.

So many voices, all speaking in unison.

All speaking to her.

She couldn’t understand what they were saying but they never stopped talking.

And she never stopped running.

“Taz.”

That voice was new.

It was coming from behind her.

She turned her head without slowing down.

There was nothing there but the endless corridor.

“Taz.”

This time from right ahead.

She whipped around again.

The corridor was gone.

In its stead, a wide, gaping chasm lay before her, leading into dark nothingness.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, she tried to stop.

But she was too fast and she knew she was going to go over.

“I’ve got you, Taz.”

Something strong reached out for her just as she was about to tumble into the chasm, bringing her to a standstill at the very edge of the void.

She was spun around and she immediately recognized the face.

“Captain.”

Michael Owens smiled at her. “I’ve got you, Taz. You’re safe now.”

He was holding her with one arm. And he was surprisingly strong even while she still teetered on the brink, unable to quite find her balance, frozen in place.

“I’ve got you,” he said again.

“I’ve been trying to get away from them,” she said, barely able to catch her breath.

“I know, Taz, I know. But you don’t have to run anymore. I’ve got you now.”

But even as he spoke, his face was beginning to drain of color and mechanical parts were breaking open his skin, spreading like a cancer and disfiguring him. His left eye was pushed out of its socket to be replaced by an artificial sensor. Tubes and cables grew out of his skull, snaking and coiling themselves in search of connectors as his hair disintegrated. His uniform shredded to give way to dark metallic parts on his chest, arms, and legs.

“You cannot run from us, Taz,” he said, his voice now distorted and robotic as his smile turned into something evil and sinister. “We’ve got you now.”

“No,” she screamed, trying to free herself from his grip but it was relentlessly strong.

He raised another transformed arm and she watched in horror as narrow tubes sprang forth from his hand as he reached toward her neck.

“We will add your biological features to our own.”

She pulled away with all her strength, no longer caring about the chasm behind her. Anything would have been better than this.

She yanked and clawed at the arm holding her in place with all the strength she had.

Just as she could feel the tubes making contact with her skin, his forearm broke off as if it was brittle bone.

And she fell.

“Resistance is futile,” she heard him say above him, his eyes following her all the way, his cybernetic face refusing to vanish into the distance even as she tumbled into nothingness.

Then the void finally claimed her.

The fall didn’t end.

Not for a long time.

It was the landing that woke her.

She felt the jolt and her eyes raced open to see the familiar ceiling of her quarters.

“Goddsdamnit,” she moaned from the pain in her back. She had fallen off her bed and was covered in sweat.

She needed a few deep breaths before she pulled herself back onto the bed.

It had been the third dream she’d had since she had tried to sleep and the first one where she had found herself on the floor.

“Computer, time.”

“The time is oh-three-hundred hours and twelve minutes.”

It had been less than an hour since her last Borg-inspired nightmare, that one following a very similar theme. Her trying to get away from the drones only to be eventually caught by the one that had called itself Tyrantus.

Three nightmares in one night, that was a new record even for her. She hadn’t had such a bad night’s sleep even during her worst Syndicate-Y induced night terrors when she had so desperately tried to kick her drug habit for good.

She glanced toward her nightstand where she found the sleep aid Elijah had prescribed her when he had helped her get through the worst of her withdrawal symptoms. She had taken more than the recommended dose and it had still done nothing for her.

She picked up the padd next to it to find out if there had been any updates since her unsuccessful attempts to find some sleep.

It had been six hours since the away team had returned from the Outlander station with some intel on the likely name of the ship that the captain and the other had taken to escape the station after they had been ambushed by security forces.

Using painstakingly pieced together sensor data of recent starship traffic in the system, together with database entries obtained from the station’s computer, they had been able to identify nine ships that had left the station in the relevant timeframe. Four of which had been large ore freighters and four had matched the description of the ship they were after.

They had wasted another hour tracking down one of the ships only to realize that it was a dead end. The last report she had seen before she had tried sleep was that they had managed to obtain intel on a ship that may or may not have been the one they were after. But it already had a significant head start, it’d be hours before they’d catch up with it.

She found that nothing had changed according to the logs.

She briefly considered trying to give sleep one more chance, she still felt exhausted, but then quickly decided against it. Three vividly disturbing nightmares in a row were her limit.

She got up, got dressed, and left her quarters.

Under any other circumstances she would have made her way directly to the bridge, but considering that Xylion had come fairly close to confining her to quarters after she had offered a few more suggestions the last time she had been up there, she made her way toward sickbay instead.

She was grateful to find it fairly empty and most importantly, entirely lacking the presence of a certain, curmudgeonly chief medical officer. Instead, things were being looked after by Nurse Leila Adams during the quiet night shift.

“Ensign,” she said upon seeing the young woman, “I’ve heard you did an excellent job on that away mission to the Outlander station. Sounds to me as if there might be more landing parties in your future.”

She shook her head. “If away missions are usually like that, I may have to reconsider volunteering for them again.”

Tazla knew that the mission hadn’t exactly gone without a hitch and that Adams had likely seen far more action than she’d expected. “Ninety percent of away missions are fairly routine, often even downright tedious,” she said. “It’s the remaining ten percent you have to watch out for. The ones that could get you killed without a moment’s notice.”

The nurse cringed and Tazla realized that perhaps she had been a little too honest on the subject. Then again, she didn’t believe in mollycoddling her officers either. “In Starfleet you never know what you’re going to get. That’s the reason we’re out here. But not everyone is cut out for that. There is no shame in preferring to stay on the ship,” she added.

“Well, that’s not always the safest option either,” she said after a moment’s worth of consideration. “Then again, if I were looking for safe, I could have stayed on Alpha Centauri.”

Tazla responded to her smile in kind.

“I take it you didn’t come to sickbay at zero dark thirty just to catch up with me. Is there something I can help you with?”

Tazla did another quick scan of the room, ensuring it was empty except for a single medtech working on a workstation in a far corner before she regarded the nurse again. “Just a bit of trouble sleeping. I was hoping you could give me something without the need to wake up the boss.”

She smiled again and nodded. “Sure, give me a tic,” she said and then retrieved a hypo-spray from a medical drawer, checked and amended the charge, and then returned. “A couple ccs of improvoline should knock you right out.”

But Tazla raised her hand. “Actually, I’ve already tried that. You’ve got anything a bit stronger.”

Adams considered her curiously. “Stronger?”

“I’ve got somewhat of a history of being an insomniac. I suppose I’ve built up a tolerance to the usual stuff,” she said and tried on a disarming smile.

It didn’t seem to reassure the other woman at all. “Please wait here, sir.”

Adams left the main ward and Tazla was gripped by the sudden urge to flee.

It was too late.

Not thirty seconds after the nurse had left, Elijah Katanga emerged from his office, followed by Adams.

She uttered a heavy sigh while Katanga thanked Adams and let her go on her way before making her way over to her.

“Your nurse ratted me out. I’m not sure how well that’s going to play on her next performance evaluation,” Taz said with annoyance she was unable to mask.

“Her loyalties are right where they belong. To the crew’s health and well-being and to me. Her next evaluation better reflect that,” he said sternly.

“I just need something to help me sleep, Eli. Don’t make this a federal case.”

“You were just abducted and assimilated by the Borg and improvoline doesn’t seem to make a difference. That’s pretty potent stuff, Dez. I think we better have a look at you. And don’t start giving me any guff on this,” he said as he led her to the biobed with a heavy-duty medical scanner attached to it.

“I wasn’t assimilated,” she protested but followed him where he wanted her to go. “I’m just having a few bad dreams. Considering the circumstances, that’s hardly surprising.”

“Last I checked, you don’t have a medical license anymore and even if you did,” he said as he beckoned her to lay down on the bed so that he could secure the scanner over her torso, “I would have serious reservations about allowing you to self-diagnose your condition.”

“Hey, I was a pretty good doctor.”

“Thing about pretty good doctors,” he said, activating the scanner, “they tend to have blinders on when it comes to their own health.”

Taz noted that he had brought a padd that he had placed on the table next to her bed. Curious as to his nighttime reading, she picked it up. Her eyes widened slightly when she realized the subject matter. “Picard?”

He nodded, reviewing the sensor data. “I’ve been reading up on medical reports concerning people who were altered by the Borg and survived. “There aren’t many cases to choose from.”

“That’s what I love about you, Eli. You really know how to reassure your patients.”

“Relax. You said it yourself, you weren’t assimilated. At least not fully. Still, there are some parallels with Picard that are interesting and worth studying.”

She replaced the padd. “Well, at least I’m in highly esteemed company.”

“There is nothing obvious I can see here. Elevated heart rate and increased blood pressure but that isn’t uncommon among a person suffering from night terrors.”

“As I said.”

“Let me carry out a subatomic spectral scan,” he said, already punching in the commands. “What did you see?”

“Pardon?”

“In your nightmares.”

She leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “Nothing surprising really. A lot of running, trying to get away from the Borg. Avoiding getting assimilated. Owens.”

He stopped and glanced at her. “You had nightmares about the Captain? Feels like that’s a whole counseling session on its own.”

She actually snickered at that. “Maybe. But it wasn’t a coincidence. The Borg drone that interrogated me on their ship had his face. I suppose, in this universe, Michael Owens must have been assimilated by the Borg at some point.”

“I don’t think I much care for this universe. Curious,” he said and began to study his console closer.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure why I didn’t detect this sooner.”

His ambiguousness was driving her nuts and she lifted the sensor hood and stood to join him by the console. “What is that?” she asked with an increasingly bad feeling. It resembled a Borg nanoprobe. “I thought you had removed all of these from my system.”

He nodded. “So did I. I think these were designed to disguise themselves, appearing as nothing more than harmless amino acids until they had a chance to multiply. But they appear benign. Or at the very least, they don’t seem interested in assimilating other cells.”

“That’s good. But if that’s not what they’re up to, what is their purpose?”

He glanced at her with an empty look. “I have no idea.”
“Tyrantus, the Borg with Owens’ face, he told me that assimilating Trill can be a difficult process. That it is not always successful. Perhaps they just can’t handle my physiology.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s what’s going on here. These nanites have none of the attributes required to attack cells. In fact, the only thing I can see here,” he said, activating a few more controls to allow the probes to enlarge on the screen to reveal tiny little spikes attached to them, “are these things.”

“Are those transmitters?”

“I think so.”
That bad feeling in her stomach was rapidly spreading to the rest of her body. “Star to bridge.”

“This is Lieutenant Commander Xylion. Sir, must I remind you that you are still off-duty and assigned to medical rest?”

She rolled her eyes. “You certainly do not, Commander. I’m here with the good doctor in sickbay and I’m sure he’d be happy to register your complaint. But first, I think we have a new problem to contend with. And this is a big one.”

 

She literally can't run from them... Borg nightmares tend to be prescient. Tazla's experience has some fun synergy with Picard's from the franchise.

Of course, you can't go wrong when Katanga is in a scene.. Thanks!! rbs

 

6


“We’re less than five minutes out from the Piqus system. No sign so far that we’ve been detected,” said the captain of the mercenary vessel Lead Belly from the bridge, her face displayed prominently on a vid screen mounted in the common room.

Although she had referred to the mission they had embarked upon as almost certain suicide, she had still not relented on giving any of her passengers access to the bridge. Michael understood the need for restricting access to sensitive areas of a ship better than most, but even he considered this overly paranoid considering what they had already been through together.

“I suppose those access codes are holding up so far,” she said.

“I’ve lost four of my best people getting my hands on those,” said their newest passengers, the man who went by the name of Lif Culsten in this universe. “They should be able to get us all the way to Piqus VII without raising any suspicions.”

But Donners didn’t look all so convinced. “These codes are fooling long-range sensors if we’re lucky, but they won’t do much for us under closer scrutiny. And there is zero chance the Lead Belly will pass as an Outlander vessel on visual inspection. I really hope you have some other ace up your sleeve, otherwise, this will be a very short infiltration.”

Michael turned to consider the resistance fighter but it didn’t look like he had thought that far ahead.

It was his counterpart who spoke up instead. “If this Piqus system is anything like ours, there should be an extensive asteroid field between the outer planets and Piqus VII. It might just be dense enough to allow us to approach undetected.”

Garla nodded along, clearly very familiar with the asteroid field herself.

“I’m sorry, I get confused with the two of you,” said Amaya on the screen. “Which one are you again?”She grinned and then quickly continued. “It doesn’t matter. Sensors are showing the asteroid field. I should be able to drop us out of warp right at the outer edge of it. You better start crossing your fingers that we won’t register on any Outlander sensors. And find something to hold on to, I’ll have to drop us in hard. Lead Belly’sinertial dampeners aren’t what they used to be.”

Michael quickly found that Amaya had greatly exaggerated the state of her ship’s dampeners when he was nearly thrown right out of his chair even while holding on tightly to its armrests.

“By the Creator, this bucket isn’t fit for space travel, it belongs to the scrap yard,” Garla moaned as she picked herself off the deck, having been less successful in holding on to her seat.

The moment she had managed to make her way back to her chair, the ship lurched abruptly again, nearly flinging her right back to the deck and Michael feared for a moment that Amaya had miscalculated and smashed them into an asteroid.

“We’re at a full stop and we’re not going anywhere,” she said, as she glared angrily from the screen.

“What’s the problem?” Michael asked.

“The problem is that I just carried out a perfect warp jump right into an asteroid field and all the thanks I get are vicious insults,” she said, her ire clearly directed at the sentinel.

“You cannot be serious,” Garla said, easily countering the other woman’s scowl.

“I may have mentioned that we’re a bit on a timetable here with the fate of universes depending on us,” said Michael as calmly as he could. “We really do not have the time to—“

“Listen,” Amaya interrupted him. “I’ve put up with a lot of crap from you people. Hell, I’ve already been chased and shot at and nearly killed without even seeing so much as a slip of latinum. I will not tolerate insults directed at me or my ship. That’s where I draw the line. So, we’re staying right here until I hear some genuine remorse.”

The room practically fell dead silent as all eyes turned toward the Krellonian woman.

“This is insane,” she said.

“My ship, my rules.”

Michael shot her an instance look. “Garla,” he urged.

She shook her head but then took a breath of air. “I apologize,” she said under her breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.”

“I said, I apologize for insulting your fine vessel, all right? Now, for the love of the Infallible Creator, can we please quit these silly games and go back to saving the universe?” she said, much louder now, although the venomous look in her eyes didn’t quite match the sentiment.

The ship trembled again slightly which Michael took as an indication that they were on the move again.

“It’s a good thing you’re so handy in a fight, lady because you suck at apologies.”

Michael was certain that she didn’t get much practice in saying sorry in her career as a sentinel.

Amaya effortlessly switched gears. “If I may direct your attention to the master console you may all marvel at my impressive navigational feats. We are not far from Piqus but we’ll need more than great piloting skills to get us to that planet undetected.”

Michael and the others stood from their seats and reassembled around the table-like console that was currently struggling to show a stable image, flickering on and off instead.

“We’re experiencing some technical difficulties down here,” said Michael, doing his best not to sound judgmental so as not to incur the ship master’s rage once more.

“Just give it a few good whacks, it’ll be fine,” she said.

Garla rolled her eyes but Michael shot her a censuring look to hold her tongue.

The other Culsten did as Amaya had suggested and after hitting the console a third time, the image indeed stabilized to show a tactical view of their position amid the asteroid field, as well as the nearby planet Piqus VII.

“The planet has a strong magnetic field around the northern pole that should help us stay undetected for a while,” said Prime Culsten and quickly received a nod in response from Garla.

The sentinel drew a curved line from their position toward the planet with her finger. “And an indirect course will allow us to use the asteroids as cover while avoiding the orbital installation,” she added.

“Sounds like you’ve been here before,” said the other Culsten.

“This just might work,” said Amaya. “To reduce the chance of being discovered, I’ll have to initiate a high impulse burn the moment we’re free from the asteroid field. You’ll want to hang on. You know the drill by now.”

This time everybody took her instructions seriously as they returned to their seats.

Michael got another taste of what he thought early space flight must have felt like, before the widespread use of intelligent IDF systems that constantly adjusted the internal conditions of a starship to keep its occupants comfortable. A high-power impulse burn that he would barely have registered on Eagle, pushed him back hard into his seat and made his organs feel as if they were being turned to jelly as Lead Bellyaccelerated to eighty-thousand kilometers per second.

The transition back to regular speed came with another hard rattle.

“I don’t think I can get used to this,” moaned Matthew Owens, who likely had the least outer space experience in the group.

Prime Culsten on the other hand couldn’t quite suppress a large grin on his face.

“All right, we’re here. And judging by the fact that nobody has started shooting at us, I think we’re in the clear for now. But I do suggest we do whatever needs to be done quickly and then haul ass out of here.”

“Agreed,” Michael said and stood. He walked over to the queasy-looking Matthew to try and help him out of his chair but the other man waved him off.

“I can manage.”

Michael nodded and joined the others who had assembled around the master display again.

“I’ve brought up a map of the planet,” Amaya said.

Indeed, the display now showed the slowly rotating globe of Piqus VII with a topographical map superimposed.

Michael glanced at the other Culsten. “Where is the sensor monitoring station?”

“First we have to get my people.”

Michael didn’t like it but he knew he needed his help to shut down the sensor net protecting Cygni-98. “Very well. Where are they being held?”

The Krellonian studied the digital globe for a moment, frowning as the image began to tear and distort again. He gave the console a few more hits with his open palm.

“Quit trying to destroy my equipment,” Amaya said sharply. “That’s interference from the magnetic field. Nothing to be done about it.”

“Sure makes this harder,” said the resistance fighter as he used his fingers to spin the globe. “The detention complex is a hidden location somewhere on the northern continent.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have?” said an incredulous Garla.

“I’m lucky I’ve got that much,” he shot back. “Good men died to get me that intel.”

“I don’t know if I’d call that intel,” she said.

Matthew, however, took the news far worse. “You made us risk all our lives by going deep behind enemy lines without a clear notion as to where we even need to go? We might as well be trying to find the proverbial needle in a barn filled with haystacks.”

Culsten took this feedback in stride as he kept studying the globe, zooming in on the northern-most continent. “It shouldn’t be too far from the capital city.”

“What are those blank spots?” Michael said, trying to avoid a headache from the distorted image he was looking at. There were a lot of large white spots littering the map.

“My guess,” said Amaya from the bridge, who was clearly looking at the same data, “those are shielded locations passive sensors cannot penetrate.”

“Restricted areas,” said the other Culsten. “It must be one of those.”

“Only problem,” said Frobisher, “there must be over a dozen of them just in the northern hemisphere. We don’t have the time to search them all.”

“Wait,” said Garla and then zoomed in on one of those sensor holes. “This looks familiar,” she added and then exchanged a knowing look with Prime Culsten.

He shook his head. “It couldn’t be.”

“Why not? Would make for a good location for a hidden prison.”

Michael wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about. Although it had only been a few days since he had been to Piqus, with everything that had happened since it felt more like months. And, of course, he hadn’t spent any significant time there, hadn’t even set foot on the surface. “Would you like to clue us in?”

“The quarry, sir. It’s on the northern continent and in relatively close proximity to the capital. And according to this,” he said as he pointed at one of the dark spots, “it’s heavily shielded.”

“The location where we set up the field hospital?”

He nodded. “We keep going back to that place in different universes but that seems hardly like the most unusual repeating theme we’ve seen.”

Michael considered the resistance fighter. “What do you think? Could that be it?”

“If Garla believes so, I’ve no reason to doubt her,” he said and looked at the sentinel. “Will you do us the honor of joining the mission? Your mere presence will help inspire my people.”

“Fine,” she said. “Lif, I suggest you come along as well. Having two of you could give us a tactical advantage.”

“I was afraid you’d say something like that,” he said but then, apparently, remembering the chain of command he regarded his captain. “Unless you wish me to stay behind, sir.”

“She’s got a point,” he said nodding, and then found Amaya on the screen. “We could use some assistance down there.”

“Oh no,” she quickly said, shaking her head. “My fee does not include risking my neck, or that of my crew, for foolhardy rescue missions. I can spare some weapons, which I expect to be returned if you survive, but I’m staying right here, thank you very much.”

“Weapons would be good.” He found Matt and Frobisher next. “You’ll stay on the ship as well.”

“You couldn’t pay me to go down there,” Matthew said in response while Frobisher just nodded.

“Sir,” said Prime Culsten. “I think it’s my duty as your highest-ranking officer present to point out that you should stay behind as well.”

“I second that,” said Jon Owens who Michael hadn’t even realized had joined the group. He was leaning by the door, still looking far too pale to be on his feet “In fact, as the most senior Starfleet officer on board this vessel, I’d like to remind you that the captain does not join away missions.”

“While you figure out what you want to do, I suggest the rest of us get suited up,” said the other Culsten to which Donners quickly provided instructions on where to go to find weapons before he, his counterpart, and Garla left the room to find their armaments.

“You should be resting,” Michael said pointing at Jon Owens and taking a few steps toward him. “And you should also realize by now that I no longer recognize your authority.” He had sounded harsher than he had intended and his words made the older man visibly recoil slightly.

“I need to go,” he added, softening his tone. “I have to make sure we shut down that monitoring station. It’s our best chance to get back to Ring in one piece.”

“It’s too dangerous, son.”

Michael let the faux pas go. “I may spend most of my time on the bridge these days but I’m a trained Starfleet officer. And my security chief is very diligent about making me join weekly combat drills. I can look out for myself. As far as you are concerned, I need you to get back to your quarters and gather your strength. We’ll need you again before all this is over.”

“Just be careful. Promise me that.”

He nodded. “I will.”

With that Jon Owens reluctantly left the room. It didn’t escape Michael’s notice how he needed to steady himself along the wall as he walked away.

He spotted Matthew in the corner of the room and joined him there. “Listen, I know that you’re still mad at me and Jon, and you have every right to be, but I need you to keep an eye out on him.”

“He’s not my responsibility.”

“No, he isn’t. I’m not asking because he may look like your father. I’m asking because it is the decent thing to do as a human being. I know you’re not the Matthew I knew, but I like to believe that at the very least you share his sense of decency.”

Matthew didn’t have words and Michael decided to leave it at that and then followed the others to get ready for what he was sure to be a foolhardy mission he knew he had no business being any part of.

 

Love the way these people aren't getting along and Michael, who is not the most gregarious or charming individual, has to find some way to keep them operating as a group. Rather amazed that Maya hasn't stopped the whole clown show needing proof of payment.

Thanks!! rbs

 

First, a brief apology: Sorry about my absence. I was dealing with the type of life issues that drain your emotional and mental reserves. But I did manage to keep up with your postings, which have been awesome of course. But I didn't want to comment until I had the time to offer the type of feedback your work deserves.

First, the near complete assimilation of Star was flat out horrifying. Everything from her nightmare-like run through endless corridors of Borg as she attempted escape, to her eventual imprisonment and infection made my hair stand up. To say nothing of Borg Michael, which was a great twist I never saw coming. He's this universe's answer to Locutus. And damn. While I'm at it, the battle between Eagle and the Borg ship was handled in a clever and interesting way. Keeping a Borg battle fresh isn't easy, since it's been done so often before, both in fan fiction and canon.

The interplay between Garla, Maya, Owens and the rest of the gang gets more fascinating by the chapter. The dynamic relationship between this motley crew is beginning to fray, testing even Michael's saintly patience.

I wonder if Owen's obsessive goal to reconstruct his dead family via interdimensional piecemeal might see some measure of success after all? Cracks are beginning to appear in Matthew's cold armor. Sadly, this bizarre family reunion is more likely to end in tragedy.

Looking for more!

 

7


As Tazla stepped onto the bridge, she was fairly sure the only reason Xylion didn’t immediately challenge her presence had a lot to do with Eli following her closely.

“What have you got?” she asked.

The Vulcan indicated toward Science I, the left-most console of the row of bridge aft computer stations lining the rear wall. Deen was already sitting there, working away.

She turned to look as Tazla, Xylion and Katanga approached. “Nothing so far on long-range sensors, but our current speed and orientation prevents us from getting a real good look at all the angles.”

“In order to carry out a full long-range scan, utilizing the navigational deflector, we would require to drop out of warp. However, considering the urgency of our mission, I would not recommend that approach,” said Xylion.

“If Doctor Katanga is right, the Borg implanted me with stealth nanoprobes that function as a homing beacon. And that means they may already know where we are. If they do, I’d like to know,” she said.

“Assuming the Borg are chasing us and we slow down, it is very possible that they may end up catching up to us before we reach our destination,” said Deen.

“Surely we have to stop at some point,” said Katanga. “We can’t run forever.”

“What else can we do to increase sensor effectiveness?” Tazla said and peered at the computer console over Deen’s shoulder.

“If we divert power to our lateral sensors, we may be able to increase effective sensor range. We’d have to slow down somewhat, to get the extra power,” she said.

“How much?”

“We would have to reduce to approximately warp factor eight point four six,” said the Vulcan, who had clearly already made the calculations in his head.

“I can live with that,” said Taz. “Do it.”

But Xylion didn’t respond straight away. Instead, he glanced at Katanga. “Doctor, have you cleared Commander Star for duty.”

Annoyed, Tazla pinned Xylion with a glare but quickly realized that the man was not going to be swayed by her mood, she focused on Elijah instead, giving him an insistent look. The last thing she needed now, was to be sidelined. Not with the possibility of the Borg bearing down on them yet again.

“Eli,” she said sharply.

He sighed and nodded slowly. “Fine. I do this against my better judgment. And also knowing that it’ll probably take a squad of security officers to keep you from getting involved. But I’m staying with you the whole way. First sign of any ill-effects, and I’m dragging you back to sickbay myself.”

“I was nearly assimilated by the Borg. There are bound to be some ill effects,” she protested.

“I’ll be here to judge if they’ll affect your decision-making.”

Xylion offered a brief nod and considered Tazla again. “The bridge is yours, Commander.”

“Reduce speed as required and transfer power to the lateral sensor array,” she ordered without delay.

The science officer quickly relayed her orders which were followed promptly. The ship slowed down imperceptibly, the streaking starfield on the bridge remained seemingly unchanged and the deck plates barely moved underneath her boots.

“Here we go,” said Deen, once she had confirmed she had the power she needed to tie in the additional sensors to increase the effectiveness of long-range probing. “I’m not detecting any other ships within half a light-year.” She continued to work her console. “I have Outlander vessels at one light-year. No sign of Borg activity. Nothing out of the ordinary at two point five light-years. Wait a minute.”

Tazla focused back in on her screen and quickly spotted what had caught the Tenarian’s interest. It was about two light-years behind them and it wasn’t a ship, exactly. She wasn’t sure what it was.

“Whatever it is,” said Deen. “It’s moving fast. Way faster than us.”

That bad feeling in the pit of her stomach was back.

“I calculate an eighty-six percent chance that this is a Borg transwarp signature. The sensor resolution at our current power utilization is not sufficient for a more accurate determination,” said Xylion who had never moved away from the science station either.

“It’s the Borg,” said Tazla. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“If it is,” said Deen, “considering the size of the disturbance, it’s a lot of them. And they’ll be on top of us in a matter of hours.”

There was a moment of silence on the bridge as this new information was starting to sink in. Although Eagle had survived a recent encounter with the Borg, mostly thanks to her upgraded transphasic shields, that had been a small contingent. The crew understood well that they wouldn’t fare nearly as well against an entire Borg armada.

“It’s Tyrantus. He is desperate to get his hands on a very specific object and he is convinced that we know where it is,” she said.

Deen turned in her chair. “Tyrantus?”

“It’s a long story. Trust me, the less you know about it, the better.”

Judging by her frown, she wasn’t entirely convinced but decided against pressing the issue.

Tazla regarded her de-facto first officer again. “Can we catch up to the captain before the Borg overtake us?”

“We have been able to determine with a high probability that the captain’s destination is the Piqus system. According to my calculations, his vessel would have arrived in that system approximately thirty-four minutes ago. If we increase our speed to maximum warp, we will arrive in two hours and twelve minutes, while the Borg will enter the system eight minutes after our arrival.”

“That’s cutting it awfully close,” said Katanga.

Deen worked the console again so that her screen refocused on a tactical overview of the Piqus system. Tazla could see why, as the monitor showed significant activity in the solar system. “There are a lot of Outlander ships waiting for us at Piqus.”

“Something tells me none of them are a match for the Borg,” said Eli and then shot Tazla a pinning stare. “We keep up this course, we practically doom that system and anybody in it.”

Tazla understood this, too. She turned to face the main screen even if the starscape there didn’t provide her with any insights at all. “Considering the stakes, I don’t think we have much of a choice. We need to go in hot, extract our away team and make our way back to Cygni-98. With any luck, the Borg will create enough chaos to allow us to slip away.”

“Chaos?” said Eli. “You mean destroying or assimilating anything that lives and breathes in that system. That’s one hell of a sacrifice.”

“It is the correct tactical decision considering all relevant variables,” said Xylion as he calmly crossed his arms behind his back.

“Spare me your cold, pragmatic Vulcan logic,” said Eli with obvious frustration. “We’re talking about millions of lives here.”

Tazla raised a hand to forestall any further conversation on the topic. In truth, she had no idea whether Xylion or Eli was right and for now she desperately didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about it either. All she knew for certain was that she had to get her people back and stop the quantum-verse from being wiped out. Any other considerations were simply secondary.

“Helm, increase our speed to maximum warp. Tactical, make sure the transphasic shields are ready when we need them,” she said as she headed for the command chair to take the center seat once more, no matter how uncomfortable it would feel for the next few hours.

Elijah followed her only reluctantly. “God help us all.”

 

very much echoing the real McCoy...

Sounds like we have a full-fledged borg party coming up soon. That's going to be fun... Especially for Michael if he encounters Tyrantus, which he almost has to at this point, considering the rules of this multiverse.

Thanks!! rbs

 

Part V: Infiltration​

1


Michael Owens had never stepped foot on Piqus VII but only moments after materializing on the surface he came to realize that he hadn’t missed much.

They had arrived during twilight, with the sun only recently having disappeared from the horizon, providing just enough light to reveal an uninspiring landscape, reminiscent of the kind of tundra found in Siberia on Earth or the western shores of Andoria, with an abundance of rock and mud but not much vegetation to speak of other than the occasional patchwork of tall and bare trees swaying against a relentless wind.

The dull scenery was nowhere near as disturbing as the climate. It was the kind of chill he could feel deep in his bones, seriously challenging the supposedly smart fabrics of his uniform that Starfleet claimed to be able to keep him cool in hot weather and warm even at temperatures below freezing. Thanks to Garla’s local knowledge, the team had equipped gloves and hats but the supply of cold weather gear on the Lead Belly had been limited and there was little Michael could do to protect his face.

Donners had staunchly refused to provide any manpower to a mission she had considered utterly foolhardy but at least she had opened her ship’s armory to him and the rest of their ragtag group of Krellonian independence fighters.

Although after closely inspecting the poor state of the Regalian phaser rifle he had been issued with, he suspected she had purposefully equipped them with the most substandard weaponry she had available, the kind that would be least likely to be missed if it were lost. No doubt further testament to her confidence in their ability to survive this mission.

The rifle was old and in desperate need of maintenance. It had nowhere near the power or versatility of comparable Starfleet armaments, all Michael could tell was that it had three settings: Stun, kill, and a third mode that he couldn’t even guess at since all the markings had long since worn off.

Lif Culsten—the one native to this universe—quickly took the lead, indicating toward a ridge to the north. “This way. The Outlander facility is just over that hilltop.” The rest of his eight-man outfit followed him without question but Michael hesitated. He wasn’t used to taking orders anymore, certainly not in the field, and especially not from a man who looked like the spitting image of one of his own junior officers.

He had to admit, however, that the man’s take-charge attitude made him wonder if the Lif Culsten he knew possessed that same leadership spark within him. The young Krellonian had certainly shown flashes of it before while serving on Eagle and he knew that he entertained career ambitions far beyond being a helmsman.

Michael wasn’t the only one not following the resistance fighter without question. Garla seemed also less comfortable taking instructions from him. He exchanged a glance with the sentinel and the hard look in her eyes reaffirmed that this was a person with whom he fundamentally disagreed with on a philosophical level and that at present, they were allies merely due to circumstances. And yet they came to the unspoken agreement that they would follow Culsten since, at least for the time being, their end goals were in alignment.

They found the quarry just where the rebel leader had said they would.

Michael vaguely recalled having looked over high-altitude sensor images of the site back in his universe when it had been first proposed as a good location for their field hospital. He didn’t recall much from those images other than how much like an unremarkable stone pit it had been, fairly similar to countless others on thousands of worlds where there had been a need or desire to strip mine materials from rocks or just below ground. The only noteworthy feature perhaps had been the vast size of the long-since abandoned pit.

Here, however, there was barely any sign remaining at all that this had once been an industrial operation. Instead, a large military-style base had been constructed right into the sunken earth, spanning nearly the entire length and breadth of the former quarry.

There were three large, square-shaped, and interconnected main buildings as well as a dozen or so smaller ancillary structures. An extensive inner courtyard, the original bottom of the mining operation, functioned as a landing pad and Michael could see at least half a dozen shuttles parked there.

He counted eight towers none of which were designed as look-out points since they didn’t reach the surface. Instead, they seemed to be used for communications, and defense, based on the weapon emplacements attached to the top of each tower.

“I’ll order my people to assault the base from the west as a diversion. That should give us the time to slip in from the east,” said Lif Culsten and pointed at a set of unguarded doors near the bottom of the pit.”

“Six people against a base of likely hundreds?” said his counterpart. “That’s a suicide mission.”
The rebel leader shot the other man a glare. “I don’t know where you come from but here, we are used to laying down our lives for a cause we believe in. This wouldn’t be the first nor the last sacrifice we’ll have to make.”

“You came here to save your people,” said Michael, agreeing with his officer completely. “What’s the point in losing more of your men in the effort? Take a closer look. This base is heavily armed. Any ground assault would be neutralized before it even got started.”

“We’ve come this far, I’m not about to turn around now,” he shot back stubbornly.

“There may be another way,” said Garla.

Michael noticed that she had somehow managed to convince Donners to give her a tricorder. It looked fairly basic but it seemed to give her what she needed as she considered its small display.

“If whoever set up the scrambling field for this base worked for me, they would find themselves in front of a firing squad fairly quickly,” she said.

Michael couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

“It’s a high frequency, high power disruption field that is effective in deflecting scans but makes it nearly impossible to operate reliable internal sensors. A few creative tweaks and they won’t even see us coming.”

“And you can make those tweaks with that?” asked Rebel Culsten with noticeable doubt in his tone.

She responded with an exaggeratingly sweet smile. “It’s not the tool, it’s knowing how to use it.”

“If it gets us in and out undetected, let’s do it,” Michael said.

“Give me a moment,” she said and then worked the tricorder again. After a couple of minutes, she gave the sign for the team to move down one of the steep inclines toward the bottom of the quarry.

The descent was treacherous. There were no direct paths and the gravel and stone were rough. Without wearing gloves, Michael was sure he would have torn up his hands. His uniform held up fairly well but his left pant leg ripped open along his lower leg as he failed to avoid a small boulder in his path. He ignored the sharp sting of pain as he continued his downward journey.

He was also concerned about the noise of a dozen people sliding down a quarry wall just outside a military base, causing a small rockslide in their wake but by the time they finally reached the bottom, the base remained perfectly still even once the small avalanche above them had settled.

Lif Culsten glanced back up. “Coming down here may have been fairly easy but I’m not looking forward to climbing back up.”

Michael knew that it was a valid concern but he didn’t have the time to consider an exit strategy as Garla’s tricorder erupted in a small explosion of sparks.

She dropped the useless device. “That’s it. We have maybe ten, fifteen minutes at best until my intrusion will be detected. Let’s move fast,” she said and led the way to the set of doors Rebel Culsten had previously identified.

Michael and the others followed her closely to something that looked more akin to a small access hatch rather than an actual door. It would be a tight fit, even if they could get it open. At present, it looked firmly sealed.

Garla only needed a few seconds to find and remove a panel and reveal some circuitry behind it. After taking a moment to inspect it, she just smashed it with her elbow.

Michael gave her a curious look.

“If I learned something over the years, it’s that if finesse doesn’t get you anywhere, brute force usually will,” she said with a smirk.

Michael glowered at her. “That’s a great saying. I’ll make sure I’ll remind you of it when we are captured and facing that firing squad.”

But Garla just stepped back to the access hatch, and surprisingly, managed to pull it open a few inches. “They build this place to withstand an orbital attack, not a concealed ground-based infiltration.”

It took four of them to pull the hatch open wide enough to squeeze a full-grown body through it.

“My God,” Michael said, physically repulsed by the smell from inside the hatch. “That is vile.”

Rebel Culsten didn’t seem to mind nearly as much and was the first to push himself through the small hole.

Michael spotted some small writing next to the hatch he could not read. “What does this say?” he asked his helmsman.

Culsten turned to him. “Waste disposal.”

Michael nodded. “Figures.”

“It really must offend your highly refined Federation sensibilities to crawl through filth and excrement to achieve your mission,” said Garla who showed no compunctions in following Rebel Culsten.

“It offends my nose,” Michael said quietly before he followed. But not before grabbing a last lung full of comparatively sweet and fresh outside air.

The insides were dark, damp and as predicted, so rotten and putrid that he wasn’t sure how many sonic showers it would take to make him feel clean again. He had struggled to keep himself from retching and the entire experience reminded him of his escape through the sewers on the planet Valeria after a prison break not so long ago. The difference was that this time he was trying to break into one and that the waste disposal facilities of this base made those sewers look like a royal stateroom in comparison.

Thankfully, the ordeal only lasted a few minutes until they reached a section that had actually been designed for sentient beings to occupy. It featured a few hygiene stations the team quickly and liberally perused although it was not quite enough to entirely neutralize the lingering stench they had been exposed to.

“Well, that was an experience I wouldn’t mind never repeating,” said Lif Culsten after he had finished cleaning up.

“You spend some time around these Outlander savages, you’ll find their food stinks just as badly before they excrete it,” said Rebel Culsten. “Anyway, I believe we are in luck. According to my intel, the prison complex is on this side of the base. Let’s get my people and get out of here.”
The team slipped into the base proper and Michael found that they had appeared to have timed their arrival well since the outpost didn’t appear well-staffed during night hours.

“Let’s make this quick, find my people and get out of here,” said the rebel leader.

“We also need to disable the sensor station monitoring Cygni-98,” said Michael.

Culsten nodded but seemed distracted. “Where is Garla?”

Michael looked around and realized she was missing. He couldn’t remember seeing her since they had emerged from the waste facility. “I don’t know.”

“I thought you were in charge of your team,” he said, his tone noticeably challenging.

Michael didn’t care for it. “She is not one of my people and she has a tendency to follow her own rules. You asked her to come along.”

“She reminds me a great deal of the Garla I once knew,” he said, momentarily lost in his memories.

Michael quickly stepped up to him, very nearly invading his personal space. “We don’t have time for nostalgia. This is your mission; you are in charge. I suggest you get us moving to complete our objective. Which, in case you forgot, includes that monitoring station.”

Culsten glared back at him for a moment before he offered a brief nod. “Two teams. Parsha,” he said to one of his lieutenants, take your men to search the east wing, we take the west,” he said and his fellow resistance fighter quickly nodded and set out with a handful of rebels.

“What’s Garla’s play here?” Michael asked Lif quietly as they sat out to follow the other Culsten and his two remaining men.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure, sir.”

“Tell me, Lieutenant, how far can we trust her?”

“I’ll trust her far more than I do my alter ego over there,” he said, looking in the direction of the man leading them down the empty corridor.

They met no significant resistance, a couple of guards Rebel Culsten and his people were able to neutralize quickly and silently, although perhaps a little more violently than Michael would have liked. He also understood that their disappearance would not go unnoticed for long, and once they failed to report in, the entire base would likely be on high alert. Ideally, they’d be far away from this place by then.

“Cellblock, straight ahead,” said Rebel Culsten shortly after he had helped eliminate two lupine guards.

They deactivated a force field leading into the main block and found several cells inside. In all, Michael could count perhaps a dozen or so Krellonian prisoners, hardly enough to jumpstart a rebellion.

Rebel Culsten visibly brightened at the sight of his people. “Teleor, Matrin, Creator be praised.”

A tall and burly, dark-haired Krellonian stood from the cot he had been sitting on and quickly approached the force field. “Liftu, I knew you would come for us,” he said in a booming voice, befitting his large frame. “Didn’t I tell you he’d come for us?”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you behind,” he said and began deactivating the force field but not before he indicated to the others. “Get these people out of here.”

Michael moved to a nearby cell where he found three prisoners inside. They considered him suspiciously. “You’re human?” one of them said, not totally able to hide the apprehension in her voice.

He nodded. “Yes, and we have a saying. Beggars can’t be choosers. You want to get out of here or not?”

She offered no further argument.

“What are you doing here?” asked another prisoner.

“Long story,” he said. “Too long for the little time we have. Where’s the sensor monitoring station?”

The lanky and clearly underfed rebel offered a blank look in return.

A commotion outside the cell redirected his focus and he quickly returned to the main block where he stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted the five Outlander soldiers who had appeared by the main entrance, all five had their weapons pointed at the prisoners, and their would-be rescuers that had been caught unaware and dead to rights by the four dark-furred lupine and a massive bear-like ursine who towered above all others.

The stand-off was decidedly one-sided since none of Culsten’s people had their weapons at the ready, too preoccupied with reuniting with their lost comrades and Michael felt a momentary sense of dread at the prospects of imminent slaughter.

It never came.

At least not in the sense it had played out in front of his mind’s eye.

Instead, the lupine on the far right suddenly sagged to the ground for no immediately apparent reason and before his fellow guard realized what was happening, he reached out for his throat which had suddenly gushed with a spray of blood from a vicious cut.

There was a blur of movement Michael had trouble following as a figure leaped over the two-meter plus tall ursine to strike at the guard to his left with a well-placed kick to his head that had enough force to flatten him to the ground.

Never stopping, the figure used forward momentum to jump onto the fifth guard’s shoulders, catching the lupine’s head between her thighs and using her weight and gravity to bring him down as well.

She buried her dagger into the side of her third victim’s head before she had even brought down the fourth lupine and then drove that same blade into the downed guar’s neck just before she untangled herself from the headlock she had placed him in.

The ursine’s imposing size and strength seemed to come at the expense of his reflexes which were so slow that he had barely had a chance to turn and face the new attacker by the time his comrades were already out of the fight.

Garla easily avoided his massive arm striking out for her by going low and sliding underneath him so that she was right by his legs.

Two quick but clearly strategically targeted slices to his legs felled the massive creature like an oak tree.

Michael physically cringed as he watched the sentinel jump on top of the furry Outlander, driving her knee hard into his burly chest and driving the blade of her weapon hilt-deep into his left eye with enough force to spray her with his blood.

For a moment there was dead silence.

None of the soldiers had been able to fire a shot, or, for that matter, raise an alarm and none of the Krellonians had dared move a muscle.

Garla remained on top of the ursine, breathing hard with her face splattered with blood.

“That can’t be,” said Teleor, the burly and recently liberated rebel.

“You better believe it,” said Rebel Culsten with a quickly spreading grin as he approached the sentinel still sitting on top of her slain foe, trying to catch her breath. “Garla is back.”

But Peleor shook his head. “Garla is dead. And she never did anything like that before.”

Rebel Culsten reached out for her, offering her his hand. “This is an all-new Garla. Twice the fighter ours has ever been.”

She took the hand and allowed him to pull her back onto her feet.

“That was quite a performance. With you on our side, the Outlanders don’t stand a chance,” he told her as he looked over her handy work.

“Don’t get used to it,” she said as she wiped the blood from her face and rejoined the others. “I’m just visiting this strange, twisted universe of yours.”

Every single Krellonian in the cell block watched her with noticeable awe. All but Prime Culsten.

“What?” she asked him.

He just shook his head. “It feels to me that killing Outlanders comes far too easy to you.”

She offered a little smirk. “I made it look easy. It was anything but. Don’t tell anyone.”

Culsten clearly didn’t see the humor in the situation and neither did Michael.

“I think it’s time we get out of here,” Rebel Culsten said.

But Peleor hesitated. “There is a whole Garrison of Outlanders stationed in this facility,” he said as he picked up one of the weapons the guards had dropped. “I say we strike now. Take them out while they least expect it. With this new Garla on our side, we’ll cut them down in no time. It’d be a glorious victory for the rebellion.”

Michael decidedly shook his head. “That is not our mission. We’re here to get you out and to disable the sensor monitoring station.”

The blank look in the Krellonians’ eyes told him what he had already suspected and he angrily faced Rebel Culsten. “Of course, there is no monitoring station here, is there? This was all just to free your people.”

His silence was answer enough.

“We’re wasting time,” Peleor barked. “Let’s take down the Outlander scum. We move out now and we probably get to throttle half of them in their sleep.”

Lif Culsten stepped in front of the Krellonian who was almost an entire head taller than he was. “No, we’re leaving,” he said with surprising fire in his voice that easily rivaled that of the rebel leader.

The confused Peleor glanced toward the other Culsten. “Since when do you have a twin?”

“I don’t,” he said. “But I agree, we have an opportunity here to strike a real blow against the Outlanders, we need to take it.”

“That is a terrible idea,” said Michael. “You’re still greatly outnumbered and surrounded by enemy troops. You said these people are essential to your rebellion. You have to think long-term here. Take your men and regroup, you cannot take on a superior and better-equipped force one outpost at a time.”

“With her, we can,” he shot back, glancing at Garla.

Lif Culsten shot her an instant look as well. “And what does the great and powerful Sentinel Garla have to say about this plan?”

Garla took her time to consider the assembled crowd, half of which was clearly chomping at the bit to deal out some payback. It was time, Michael knew they didn’t have. “You want my opinion?” she said. “This universe offends me in ways I can barely describe. The way our people are reduced to little better than slaves is something I cannot tolerate.”

“Garla, listen—” Prime Culsten began but was quickly cut off by her.

“But the thing is, I derive no pleasure or satisfaction from killing Outlanders or anyone else for that matter. And I’ve learned, fairly recently, in fact, that revenge is not a good strategy. So, I say, we get out of here while we still can.”

“And I say that’s not the right move,” said Peleor who seemed to notice that the ursine she had put down earlier was still twitching. “These things are animals and animals need to be put down,” he said and leveled the phaser rifle at the large creature.

“No, wait,” Prime Culsten cried out.

But the Krellonian had already started to unload onto the dead or dying Outlander, blasting multiple new holes into his burly body until the stink of burning fur filled the block.

Not a moment later, loud alarms began to blare along with bright yellow flashing lights.

Michael’s first instinct was to get out of the cell block as soon as possible but before he could even make a couple of steps, solid tritanium bars dropped from the ceiling and sealed both entrances, trapping them inside.

Prime Culsten turned to look at Teleor. “That,” he said with a glower, “was quite possibly the worst move.”

 

Of course - count on vengeful, deceitful, poorly organized allies to get you into more trouble... And after crawling through raw sewage... With friends like this, who needs an enema?

Garla is, as always, in rare form and quite delightful. So the question is, how do they get out of this new mess? There probably isn't a smashable control panel within reach.

Yet another CeJay cliffhanger... Stay tuned...

Thanks!! rbs

 

Well, that’s just great.
Thanks a lot, idiot.

Figures that these clowns would pull a fast one on Michael’s team. It’s bad enough that the whole operation was a waste of time, but now everyone is trapped and likely facing execution. In the meantime, the doomsday clock is sitting at about five minutes to midnight.

Let’s not forget about Eagle, who’s screaming through space with a Borg armada in pursuit. What a hellish command decision for Star, by the way, as an entire system may have to get assimilated in order to save this whole multiverse of madness!

I’ll be here next week, same bat-time, same bat-channel!

 

2


She had no earthly idea why she had ever agreed to travel deep into Outlander territory and help a group of strangers on some sort of fantastic mission that as far as she was concerned had nothing whatsoever to do with herself.

Michael Owens had talked about an existential crisis threatening all life in all universes or some such silliness, but she was fairly certain that the man had a penchant for the melodramatic.

And yet, there was something about him she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Sure, he wasn’t terrible on the eye, some may have even considered him handsome with his precise haircut and prominent chin. He clearly took care of himself and was cleaner than most humans one encountered on this side of the Beta Quadrant. He had a charm in an authoritative kind of way, something Maya usually didn’t much care for. He was stubborn and arrogant as well, like a man who had grown used to barking out orders. And he knew things he had no right knowing.

She didn’t care for him at all.

“Latinum,” she mumbled to herself as she rode the lift to the crew deck. “A whole lot of latinum.” That’s what she was in it for, she kept telling herself. Maybe enough to finally say goodbye to this blasted corner of the galaxy and find a nice quiet spot away from the constant threat of ending up as collateral damage in the never-ending war between the Dominion and the Borg.

She found two other people who she currently didn’t rate very highly in the crew lounge. Wes Frobisher and Matt Owens who may or may not have been the brother of Michael Owens, depending on who you asked. Although the similarities between the two men were undeniable. At least physically. Philosophically they were worlds apart, with the former acting much more like a human who belonged in these dark times.

“We need to talk,” she said as she headed for the table the two men were sitting at, not caring that she was interrupting their conversation.

Frobisher looked up. “About what?”

“About what you can do to compensate me.”

Owens shot her a disbelieving look. “We’ve already agreed payment.”

She shook her head. “I’m getting paid by your … well, whatever he is to you, for this ludicrous mission. That doesn’t cover my compensation for the losses I incurred because of faulty products you sold me.”

“They weren’t faulty,” Owens mumbled under his breath but when she fixed him with a dark stare, he quickly diverted his eyes.

“You have my shuttle. And its power core,” Frobisher said.

“I do. And that’s nice. But it’s not exactly made of hard cash.”

“The power core alone is worth more than this rust bucket you call a ship,” Frobisher shot back.

She responded with a wide smile but the hand that had moved to rest on the grip of her holstered phaser told him exactly how she felt about that comment. “You mean the ship that is currently ferrying your sorry behinds across the galaxy? If you have any complaints about the services you are receiving, I’d be happy to upgrade you to alternative accommodations. And I’ll guarantee that the view will be to die for.”

He noticed her hand on her weapon and shook his head. “No complaints whatsoever. I was just observing that the shuttle is worth a lot of hard cash.”

“Yeah, but here’s the thing. There aren’t a lot of people in the sector with the latinum to buy it. So that gets us back to square one.”

Owens looked toward the doors and when Maya followed suit, she spotted that Jon Owens had entered the room.

The elderly man who was clearly too sick to be traveling around hostile space, not to mention being out of bed, was Michael and Matt’s father. Although he also wasn’t. She had long since given up trying to understand this nonsense.

“You shouldn’t be out of your quarters,” Matt Owens said sharply.

The older Owens waved him off. “Has there been any news from Michael?”

Maya glanced at the chronometer. “Well, he and his band of fearless rebels have exactly twenty-two minutes left until I’ll blow this joint and they’re on their own.”

“We can’t leave them,” he said sharply.

“He’s right,” Frobisher said. “The fate of quantum-reality may—“

“Hey,” she said harshly, cutting off the scientist. “New rule: You are no longer permitted to use any terms that start with the word quantum or any other made-up mumbo jumbo on Lead Belly, is that clear?”

“It’s not made-up,” Frobisher said but not forceful enough to make it an argument.

The elder Owens was noticeably struggling to stay on his two feet and Maya was wondering if he was going to be able to keep upright. When it looked like he was about to lose his fight with gravity, Matthew jumped out of his chair and rushed to his side to steady him.

“You should be in bed. You’re in no state to be on your feet,” he admonished sharply, sounding very much like a son concerned about his ailing father to her ears.

“Just help me sit down over there,” he said.

Matthew begrudgingly agreed to guide him to the corner booth.

“Cap, we’ve got a problem.”

Maya immediately recognized the voice of her first mate whom she had left in charge on the bridge. She walked over to the wall-mounted comm and toggled it on. “What is it?”

“We’re picking up activity. A lot of activity.”

That caused a cold shiver to run up her spine. She knew they were surrounded by Outlanders and ships far superior to Lead Belly. If they were all to come after them, they wouldn’t last five minutes. “Have we been detected?”

“I’m not sure it is us, Cap, but … whoa—”

“What is it?”

“It’s like somebody kicked the hornet’s nest. Defense stations and satellites planetwide are coming online. They’re scrambling ships left, right, and center.”

“Put it through to the master control in the lounge,” she said and walked over to the table-shaped console in the middle of the room.

She had to give it a couple of whacks with the palm of her hand before the image stabilized. When it finally did, she wished it hadn’t.

“Looks like they’re getting ready for war,” said Frobisher who had joined her.

“Let’s see what sensors are telling us,” she said and activated a few controls that caused the tactical map to zoom out from a system level to a sector scale. Lead Belly’s sensors weren’t particularly powerful, especially not while running silent inside a planetary magnetic field so the vast majority of the map was obscured by a type of fog of war that gave no indication of what was out there.

“What is that?” asked Matthew who had joined them as well and who was now pointing at a pulsing mass bright enough to penetrate that fog. It wasn’t close to their position yet, but it moved rapidly in their direction.

Truth was, she had never seen anything like it before. And that worried her.

“I recognize the energy signature,” said Frobisher studying the panel. “It’s powerful enough that even passive sensors are picking it up.” He looked up. “It’s the Borg. A lot of them.”

She had been afraid of something like that. “And they’re coming right at us.”

“Why? I don’t understand,” said Matthew. “There’s nothing here worthwhile for the Borg.”

“We are here,” said Jon Owens.

Maya considered the two Owens’. “I have no idea what could be so important about your merry group of deluded adventurers to warrant such a response by the Borg but if they’re coming here, we need to be very very far away from this place. Right now.”

“We still have time,” said Frobisher. “They’re moving fast but we can give our team on the planet time to get back.”

She quickly shook her head. “I’m not risking it.”

“You want to get paid, don’t you?” said Frobisher. “If we leave now, without Michael Owens, the chances of that happening are close to zero. Give him a chance.”

“Money is not worth my life,” she said and pointed at all that activity on the screen, representing dozens of Outlander ships now in motion all around their location. “We’re bound to be discovered.”

Jon Owens forced himself back onto his feet. “No, we’re not. They have far bigger things to worry about than a small little merc ship. Their entire focus will be on the incoming Borg armada. Right now, there’s chaos and chaos is our friend.” He looked at Matthew Owens next. “We may be able to add some more to it. Matt, do you still have that Dominion communicator?”

He nodded as he reached for an inside pocket of his jacket.

“Wait,” Maya said with disbelief. “Why do you have a Dominion communicator?”

“Long story,” Frobisher said. “But trust me, one we’ll have to have words over real soon.”

“Not now,” Owens Senior said, sounding to Amaya not all too different from Michael Owens, full of a sudden burst of authority befitting a military officer rather than a sickly old man. “Get in touch with your contact and give her our location. Tell her you have found the people she is looking for and to be ready for a fight.”

“Are you insane?” she nearly shouted at him. “You want to get the Dominion involved as well? Why don’t we just blow up our warp core? That will get the job done much faster with the same end result.”

But Jon Owens stood his ground. “I don’t know much about your universe but I know that where I’m from not much can stop the Borg. The Dominion may have a chance.”

“With us stuck in the middle of it all like an ant squashed by an elephant stampede,” she said.

He shook his head. “An ant is far too small to be crushed by an elephant and that’s what I’m counting on,” he said, with renewed confidence. “Without another equal force opposing the Borg, or at least slowing them down, we won’t get anywhere. If they’re really after us, running won’t help. Sooner or later, they’ll catch up with us. At least this way, we have a chance to escape them.”

Maya looked around the room and it seemed clear that both Frobisher and Matt Owens were in agreement.

Prompted by her silence Matt retrieved the communicator. “Here’s hoping that she’ll get this. Or even listens to me, if she does,” he said and then moved into a quiet corner to make the call.

Maya could only shake her head. “You’re all thoroughly and unquestionably out of your God-damned minds and I wish I had never picked up any one of you,” she said as she turned for the exit to return to the bridge. “Michael Owens has fifteen minutes to get his butt back here and not a second more. After that, I’m getting us out of here with or without him. The universe can sort itself out.”

 

Okay - Maya is totally making sense and that first quote about quantum should be applied to every advertising executive and snake-oil salesman from now on. I may adopt that as a catch-phrase. Fun to see the admiral re-emerge. Really great, quick-reading chapter here.

Thanks!! rbs