A USS Bluefin Short-Story: "Right Place, Wrong Time"

[TheLoneRedshirt]

A USS Bluefin Short-Story: “Right Place, Wrong Time”

Sometime in mid-2377
Star Stallion 01
Molari Badlands

“Inertial dampeners failing!” shouted Chief Deryx over the din of the howling impulse engines. The raging ion storm battered the star stallion, threatening to overload its shields and overstress its hull.

“Compensating,” replied Commander Inga Strauss. It was all she could do to punch in the commands on the console as the small-craft pitched violently.

In the rear of the stallion, four civilians huddled in terror. Only ten minutes earlier, they had been plucked from their damaged Corvallen freighter by Deryx and Strauss. Their initial relief over being rescued evaporated quickly as the monstrous ion storm exploded with pent-up force, erupting into a force-9 tempest.

Now the stallion was desperately clawing its way back to the Bluefin, which still lay nearly a half-hour distant at full impulse. What had begun as a rather routine rescue mission was now a struggle for survival – a struggle that Deryx and Strauss now wondered if they would win.

“Stallion oh-one to Bluefin, come in please!” Inga’s voice was tight but controlled. Her attempt at communication was met with a burst of static.

“Try emergency power,” suggested the Denobulan CPO as he struggled with the helm controls. The stallion pitched and yawed dangerously, but Deryx managed to keep it under control – barely.

“If I boost the gain much more I’ll blow the sub-space transceiver,” she replied. A sudden jounce caused her to bite her tongue painfully and she tasted the sharp tang of blood. She spat a wad of bloody saliva on the deck and turned her attention back to her console.

“Stallion oh-one to Bluefin – Mayday! Mayday! We are caught in the ion storm – shields and dampeners are failing, please respond.”

Finally, through the static she heard the familiar, welcome voice of Lt. Nigel Bane.

“ . . . oh-one, this is Bluefin. We . . . your mayday and . . . moving to rendezvous with you. What . . . your status?” The concern in Bane’s voice was apparent, despite the weak signal.

Hearing Nigel’s voice gave Strauss a tendril of hope. “Bluefin, we are uninjured but shields are down to 25% and radiation levels are rising. Inertial dampeners are fluctuating and structural integrity fields are beginning to fail. We’re running at full impulse, trying to get ahead of the storm.”

Streaks of purple and red energy flashed across the viewport, momentarily dazzling Strauss as the stallion shook ominously.

“Acknowledged, oh-one. Adjust . . . to one-one-three mark fourteen . . . should get you clear of . . . leading edge in ten minutes. We . . . en route.”

Deryx punched in the course change and the small craft veered slightly to port. Strauss noticed several warning indicators flashing on the helm console – indicative of engine over-heating as she replied to Bane.

“Understood, Bluefin. We have adjusted course to one-one-three mark fourteen. Be advised our engines are over-heating. . . I’m not sure how much longer we can maintain full impulse.”

Bane’s reply was drowned out in a raucous screech of static as a gravimetric wave slammed into the star stallion. The lights on the tiny vessel dimmed and one of the civilians screamed. The stallion skewed dangerously to starboard before Deryx could bring it back under control. He glanced at Strauss, a sheen of perspiration on his face.

“Nearly lost it that time,” he muttered.

Strauss nodded, her eyes wide. “Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s hope we don’t hit any more waves like that one.”

The Denobulan chuffed out a breath. “Frakkin’ straight, Commander.”

* * *

USS Bluefin
Molari Badlands

“Stallion oh-one, come in please!”

Bane turned in his chair and shook his head helplessly. “No reply, Captain.” A look of dread filled the Aussie officer’s face.

Captain Joseph Akinola nodded, his face impassive. He was also worried about Strauss, Deryx and the civilians, but he kept his feelings in check.

“Keep trying Mr. Bane. It’s no surprise that storm is playing hell with the comm. system. Mr. Bralus? Time to intercept?”

The Bolian helm officer spared a quick glance at his console as he continued to guide the border cutter into the approaching ion storm.

“Twelve minutes, sir, assuming they maintain course and speed.”

Senior Chief Solly Brin was seated at the aft auxiliary station. The red Orion non-com glowered at the viewscreen.

“I’ve never seen a storm intensify this quickly before,” Brin muttered.

“Me neither, Senior Chief,” replied Akinola. A mere half-hour ago, the ion storm appeared to be holding at force 3 – rough, certainly, for civilian ships, but nothing too difficult for the cutter or even the stallions to handle.

Now it was a force 9 monster, with enough power to mangle a border cutter.

Or shred a star stallion.

“Delta, stand by on tractor beams. I want to grab them and haul tail out of here as fast as possible.”

The auburn-haired second officer tapped instructions into the engineering console. “Aye sir. Tractors are on-line and standing by.”

The cutter rocked slightly and the deck trembled under their feet.

“Gravimetric wave,” announced Bane, solemnly. “We’ve crossed the leading edge of the storm.”

“Damn,” murmured Akinola under his breath. The recovery of the stallion had become exponentially more difficult.

* * *

Star Stallion 01
Molari Badlands

“Radiation levels increasing,” remarked Strauss. Her voice was remarkably calm, as if she were merely commenting on the weather.

“Say, Commander? If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not know that kind of stuff,” replied Chief Deryx. He grunted as the stallion lurched while plowing through a dense field of concentrated ion particles.

Strauss forced a smile. “Sorry. I tend to talk more when I’m nervous.”

“Nervous? What have you got to be nervous about? This is a walk in the . . .”

A klaxon sounded and the computer voice interrupted.

“Warning – radiation levels are now at dangerous levels. Decontamination protocols should be followed. Please report to the nearest medical facility as soon as possible.”

“Frakkin’ know-it-all computer,” growled Deryx. He spared a quick glance toward Strauss. “How much time does that give us?”

“I thought you didn’t want to know.”

“I changed my mind.”

Strauss frowned in thought. “Probably ten minutes before radiation levels reach the lethal zone. Assuming the shields don’t fail. If they do . . .”

The Chief’s pink, yellow and brown face took on a paler cast. “I see. Guess we better rendezvous with the ship before then.”

“Sounds like a plan, Chief.”

* * *

USS Bluefin
Molari Badlands

The cutter smashed through gravimetric waves and eddies of coalesced energy as it plowed doggedly toward the wounded star stallion. Already, they were facing force 6 ion levels.

Akinola rocked slightly in the command chair as the cutter doggedly moved through
heavier levels of ionic bombardment.

“Status, Mr. Bane,” he queried.

“Shields still holding at 85% and structural integrity fields operating at maximum, but the storm is now moving directly our way.” He shook his head in frustration. “We’ll be in the thick of it when we reach the stallion.”

The Captain nodded. “Very well. Let me know when you have a firm fix on them.”

“Captain?” Lt. Commander Simms spoke with a note of distress. “We may have a problem.”

“Please elaborate, Commander,”

“It’s the tractor beams, sir. The increased ionic bombardment degrades the graviton beams we can produce.” She shook her head, “I’m not sure we can get a lock on the stallion.”

An icy tendril of fear brushed Akinola’s heart. “Then we need another option. We’ll rendezvous in five minutes and I want our people on board this ship – got it?”

Delta swallowed. “Yes sir, I’m on it.”

Akinola’s tone softened. “Get Gralt on it too. I know he’s busy with the engines, but recovering our people is priority one.”

* * *

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Star Stallion 01
Molari Badlands

“I’ve got the ship on sensors!” Straus voice was animated. “We’ll rendezvous in two minutes.”

Deryx shook his head. “We aren’t out-running the storm, Commander. We’ve got serious problems.”

“What do you mean?”

“We can’t land in the hangar deck. If they dropped shields for us, it would tear Bluefin apart.”

“True – but can’t they tow us out?”

“That’s the problem.” He gestured out the viewport at the swirling kaleidoscope of energy. “I’m not sure the tractor beams can hold a lock on us in this mess. Hells, they might not work at all!”

Strauss was silent for a moment. “I’m sure they’ve worked out a contingency plan.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The Commander tapped the transmit control. “Stallion oh-one to Bluefin. Do you read us?”

* * *

USS Bluefin
Molari Badlands

“Stallion oh-one to Bluefin, do you . . . us?”

Bane’s hand flew to the communications console.

“Bluefin here – we read you, oh-one. How are you holding up?”

“I’ve had better days,” replied Strauss, “but I think Chief Deryx is enjoying himself. Any ideas about getting us on board?”

Captain Akinola moved beside Bane and leaned over the Operations Officer toward the comm. panel. “Inga, this is the Captain. Commander Simms and Gralt have a plan, but it’s risky . . .”

* * *

Stallion 01
Molari Badlands

Inga’s eyes grew wide as she listened to Captain Akinola. She cleared her throat.

“Ah, sir? Has anyone ever tried that before?”

“No,” admitted Akinola, “but it’s the only option we have left. Try to maneuver directly under the engineering hull until your shields contact ours. It will be rough, so Deryx will have to move slowly. Once our shields have engaged, we’ll open a small window between the ship and the stallion. That will allow you to beam over – but you’ll have to do it one at a time. Even with enhanced pattern buffers on both ends, we could lose you if we tried to beam everyone at once.”

Strauss’ mouth was dry. No one had ever attempted a transport in the middle of a high-intensity ion storm. Still, a slim chance was better than no chance.

“Understood, Captain. We’re ready to go on our end.”

Deryx’s expression indicated he was anything but ready, but he took a deep breath and adjusted himself in the pilot’s seat. “I’m taking us in.”

* * *

Despite the hammer blows of concentrated energy, Deryx skillfully guided the stallion beneath the cutter, then slowly moved the small craft toward the looming ship until the shields made contact.

Once more, lights dimmed and a shower of sparks erupted from the environmental panel. Deryx gamely held the stallion in place until the feedback from the shields subsided.

“Bluefin, we’ve made contact,” announced Strauss.

“Acknowledged, Commander. Stand-by for beam out.”

The XO stood from her seat and made her way to the aft cabin. “Let’s go, people – we’re beaming you to our ship, but we don’t have much time.”

Four pale and drawn faces regarded Strauss with puzzlement. They were frozen in fear.

“I said, MOVE!”

Strauss’ shout broke the civilians out of their stupor. They stood quickly and Strauss herded them to the tiny transporter arch aft of the flight deck.

“One at a time, but step quickly. You there – you go first.” She gestured to a young Arkellian who nodded and stepped under the transporter arch.

Strauss tapped her combadge. “The first one is ready for beam out.”

Almost immediately, the woman was engulfed in the transporter wave. Her body shimmered, faded and vanished.

Brusquely, Strauss grabbed the next freighter crewman and maneuvered him under the arch. She repeated the process twice more until the civilians were safely on Bluefin.

“Okay, Chief – you’re next,” she called.

“You go ahead, sir – I’m going to hold her steady for you.”

“Now, Chief! Move your ass, and no arguments.”

Grumbling, Deryx set the controls to automatic and moved nimbly to the arch. Strauss smiled thinly.

“The Captain is the last off the ship, remember?” she asked.

“Stupid tradition,” muttered Chief Deryx.

Strauss tapped her combadge. “Energize.”

The Denobulan disappeared, just as another gravimetric wave slammed into the stallion and the cutter. Strauss could hear the master warning klaxon blare and the computer began speaking in its maddeningly calm voice, “Warning - Shield failure imminent. Structural failure imminent.”

The XO breathed a curse and stepped under the arch. “Bluefin, the shields are failing, energize!”

As the familiar tingle of the transporter enveloped her, she heard a loud screeching and watched with horrified fascination as the hull of the stallion began to split. A loud roar of rushing wind assaulted her ears as the stallion began to depressurize.

She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came forth. A tunnel of bright light appeared before her eyes, then . . .

. . . she was standing on the transporter dais on the Bluefin. She staggered a moment, dizzy and near to fainting.

Before her stood Chief Deryx, except . . .

Her head was muzzy. How did Deryx manage to change uniforms?

Before she could speak, Deryx slapped his combadge.

“Intruder alert, transporter room one!”

Still dizzy, she forced herself erect. “What the hell? Deryx – what are you doing? And why are you wearing . . .”

The door to the transporter room slid open and Lt. Nigel Bane and a security crewman strode in. Inga’s sudden sense of relief was stemmed by the phaser in crewman's hand. And why was Nigel wearing that older-style uniform?

Bane’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Strauss. He did not move to help her, but regarded her warily.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” he demanded. “And how did you get on this ship?”

“Nigel! For God’s sake, quit screwing around. Did everyone else beam over alright?”

The Australian Lieutenant looked genuinely baffled. Before Bane could respond, the door slid open again. Strauss stared at the new arrival and her breath caught in her throat.

The tall man with the thick mustache wore commander’s pips on the collar of his burgundy tunic. Though Strauss had never met him, she recognized the man immediately. After all, she had seen his holo-pic many times in T’Ser’s old cabin on Bluefin.

Dale McBride, XO of the USS Bluefin, regarded Inga Strauss with suspicious eyes.

“Lady, I don’t know who you are or how you got here, but you better have some good answers.”

Inga, for her part, finally allowed unconsciousness to claim her and she fell limply to the deck.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED

 

[Mistral]

Gaaaaaah! You stopped there!?! You've roped me in as usual. I don't know if this is alt universe, time-travel or what. And I want to know!

 

[BrotherBenny]

More please

 

[CeJay]

Oh this is great.

A ton of tension and just when you think it's all over you realize that it has only just begun.

Looks like the storm has created some sort of temporal anomaly, throwing Strauss into the past but I don't remember McBride having a mustache. Could this be evil mirror universe facial hair?

In any case, good to see him again. And the rest goes for all the other Bluefin characters. They have been sorely missed.

Can't wait to see what's going to happen next.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Sometime in 2373
USS Bluefin
Molari Badlands

Inga slowly returned to consciousness. She was vaguely aware that she was lying down and that she was not alone. Strauss struggled to open her eyes. She still felt dizzy and slightly nauseous.

When she saw the face peering down at her, the shock nearly caused her to pass out again.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry my dear! I hope I didn’t startle you. I’m Calvin Baxter – Chief Medical Officer of the Bluefin.”

Inga merely gaped at the white-haired physician. This couldn’t be possible – Dr. Baxter was dead! And so was Commander Dale McBride. I must be dreaming, she thought.

The familiar voice she heard next was too real for a dream.

“How is she, Doc?”

“Well enough, Joseph, though there are a few odd anomalies in her brain scan that I can’t yet explain. She’s also been exposed to ionic radiation, but I put her on a regimen of Hyronalin, so that shouldn’t be a concern.”

Inga turned her head to face Captain Joseph Akinola. Except . . .

There was not quite so much gray in his hair. And like Bane and McBride, he was wearing the older burgundy tunic that had been discontinued (even by the Border Service) about the time that the Dominion War began.

Akinola’s gaze fell on Strauss. There was no warmth in his eyes.

“I’m Captain Joseph Akinola, in command of the Border Cutter, Bluefin. Care to explain how you happened to appear on my ship in the middle of the badlands?” His tone was conversational, but there was an unmistakable edge to this voice.

Did I end up in some mirror universe? Strauss wondered. She decided to proceed with caution.

“My name is Inga Strauss. I was on a star stallion caught in an ion storm attempting to beam on . . . a cutter, when I appeared here.”

Akinola smirked. “Nice try. There isn’t an active ion storm within several light years, nor any sign of a stallion in the vicinity. Not to mention that no one would be crazy enough to use a transporter in the midst of a storm. Care to try again?”

Inga glanced at Dr. Baxter before replying. “Captain, I would rather speak to you privately.”

“By all means! We have a nice private room in our brig awaiting you.”

Baxter interrupted. “Joseph, I think it best she remain in sickbay for the time being. Whatever happened to her, she’s had a nasty shock to her system. I’d like to run a few more tests.”

Akinola frowned but did not argue. “Okay, Doc. But I want her in restraints and I’m posting a guard outside sickbay.”

Baxter shook his head. “I don’t think restraints are necessary, Captain. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

The Captain appeared ready to push the matter, but as he looked at Baxter, he relented.

“Alright, Calvin, we’ll do it your way.” He turned back to Strauss. “One more question for now. Explain the uniform you’re wearing. You’ve got commander’s pips and a Border Service issue combadge, but that jumpsuit isn’t used by any service I know of.”

She hesitated before answering. “It’s . . . that is, the uniform . . . is a new prototype.” It was a lame answer, but it was the best she could do at the moment.

Akinola lifted an eyebrow. “Easy enough to check. Doc? She’s all yours . . . for now.”

* * *

Captain Akinola stepped out of the turbo-lift onto the Bluefin’s bridge. Commander McBride rose from the command chair, allowing Akinola to sit.

“Did you learn anything?” asked McBride.

Akinola shook his head. “Not much. She claims to be a Border Service commander named Inga Strauss. And she’s human, so at least we didn’t pick up a Dominion shape-shifter.” He sighed. “She doesn’t seem to be a threat. Hell, she seems more confused than we are.”

“Skipper?” Bane stood from his station at Ops.

“Yes, Mr. Bane?”

“When I arrive in the transporter room, that woman . . . well, she seemed to know me. She actually called me by name. Deryx said the same thing.”

The Captain frowned. “Our crew manifests are hardly classified, Nigel. It wouldn’t take much to learn the names of our personnel.”

“Yes sir, I get that. But she actually seemed to know me, Skipper! And she seemed surprised that Deryx and I didn’t know her.”

“Maybe she’s loco,” suggested McBride, spinning a finger around his ear. “or maybe your memory is foggy, Lieutenant. Could you have met her before and just not remember?”

A rueful smile formed on Bane’s lips. “I’d be the crazy one to forget a gorgeous face like that, Mr. McBride.”

Akinola snorted. “Crazy or not, beautiful or not, I want to know how the young lady managed to beam onto our ship in the middle of the badlands without another ship within scanner range!” He glanced back at Bane.

“Nigel, check Starfleet’s database for a Commander Inga Strauss. She claims to be Border Service, but I’ve never heard the name before. Seems kind of young for a full commander, anyway.”

“Hey! I represent that remark!” said McBride with a mock-hurt expression.

“Get over it, old man,” replied Akinola with a smile. “Mr. Fralk, lay in a course for Star Station Echo. If we don’t have this figured out by the time we arrive, we’ll pass Ms. Strauss along to Security and let them handle it.”

“Aye, sir.”

A few minutes passed before Bane spoke. “Captain? I’ve found the personnel file on Inga Strauss.”

Akinola walked over to the Ops station and peered over Bane’s shoulder. On the display he saw the image of the woman now in sickbay, though the woman portrayed on the screen had somewhat shorter hair and she was wearing a typical Starfleet uniform.

“Lieutenant Commander Inga Strauss, currently serving as Tactical Officer on USS Thunderchild . . .” Akinola frowned at the newly discovered information and straightened. “Is she listed as AWOL?”

“No sir, I checked. Thunderchild is currently in sector 85882 – all hands accounted for, including Lt. Commander Strauss. And, as you can see – she has an exemplary record.”

“So,” began McBride, “if Inga Strauss is on the Thunderchild, then who do we have down in sickbay?”

* * *

Inga was beginning to feel better, physically, but she was still confused. If this is a mirror universe, it sure seems a lot like my own, just a little out of date, she thought.

“Out of date,” she murmured. The thought resonated, and not in a comforting way. She lifted up on her elbows and looked around. Dr. Baxter was in his cubicle, dictating medical notes. Corpsman Rice was in an adjacent room, tending to another patient.

“Computer,” she whispered, “what is the current Stardate?”

“The current Stardate is 50672.74.”

Once more, Strauss felt a wave of dizziness pass over her. 50672.74 – a little after 1300 hours on September 3, 2373.

Almost 4 years in the past.

And you just told the Captain who you are! She realized, aghast. Anything I do or say could change the time-line forever!

She had already said too much. But if she remained too long in the past (present?), she might do irreparable harm to the future (present?).

She closed her eyes to think. She couldn’t do this on her own – she needed help if she were to return to her own time. But if she said or did the wrong thing . . .

“Feeling better?”

Her eyes flew open. The gentle gaze of Dr. Baxter regarded her with compassionate interest. Seeing him again was bitter-sweet. His death, less than a year earlier, was still an all-too-fresh memory. Inga forced a smile.

“Yes, thank you. Just a bit muddled.”

“Probably the side-effects of the Hyronalin. It should pass.” He pulled up a stool and perched upon it, folding his arms.

“Does your tongue feel better?”

“My tongue?” She recalled how she had bitten it during the wild ride on the star stallion. It had throbbed painfully, though the intensity of the situation had put those thoughts aside. She realized it no longer hurt.

She gingerly moved her tongue around her mouth and pressed her cheek. No pain. “Yes, it’s much better now.”

“That was a pretty nasty abrasion you had. Did you bite your tongue?”

“I suppose so,” she in a guarded tone.

Baxter cocked his head. “What happened to you, young lady?”

“Honestly? I’m not entirely sure.”

The door to sick bay slid open. Baxter and Strauss both turned their attention to the new arrival. Nigel Bane stood at a respectful distance from the bio-bed.

“Ah, I see you have a visitor!” remarked Baxter. “Perhaps that will cheer you up. I still have some charts to update. Come closer, Mister Bane – I assure you, she’s not dangerous.”

Bane smiled awkwardly and approached the bio-bed. He appeared much as he did in her normal time, though his hair was at regulation length for once. He still wore the rank of a junior lieutenant – his promotion some months off.

He cleared his throat. “I, uh, thought I’d see how you were doing,” he began, awkwardly.

She nodded. It hurt her heart to be a stranger to him. “Thanks. I’m okay, I guess.”

“Well . . . that’s good then.” He glanced around nervously, spotted the stool and pulled it up.

He knit his brow, gathering his thoughts. “A while ago, when you first . . . showed up. You called me by name. How do you know me?”

She swallowed and stared up at the ceiling. Careful, Inga, she thought. Cautiously, she replied, “Lieutenant, I really don’t think I should be talking to you.”

“Oh. Alright then.” He rose from the stool. There was an awkward silence before he said, “It’s just that, well, somehow I feel like I should know you.”

Bane gazed at her for a beat longer. Strauss kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling, unwilling to meet his gaze and not trusting herself to speak. Finally, he turned and left sickbay.

She let out a sigh of despair. “Oh, Nigel,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

* * *

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Commander McBride grabbed a mug from the ward room side table and filled it with coffee from the servitor. He eased his long frame into a chair across the table from Lt. T’Ser. The Vulcan officer regarded him with a quizzical expression.

“I hear we have a passenger,” she said.

“You hear correctly,” he agreed, taking a careful sip of coffee. “Damned if I know how she got here, though.”

“Did she beam on board?”

“She ended up in the transporter room,” he admitted, “but there wasn’t a ship anywhere in range of a transporter – at least not with known technology.” He leaned the chair back and laced his fingers behind his head. “Maybe she’s a spy for the Dominion.”

“Right – the Dominion developed a transporter capable of beaming someone over countless light years, and send a delirious woman to a border cutter in the middle of nowhere. Sound tactics.” Her smile assuaged the sarcasm. Some.

McBride looked glum. “Okay, I guess I deserved that - it was a dumb idea. Do you have a better one?" he challenged.

“It is always a mistake to theorize without sufficient data,” she said, taking a sip of tea.

“What? Is that some sort of Vulcan idiom?”

“Sherlock Holmes, actually.”

He snorted. “Well, Sherlock Holmes we ain’t got.”

Akinola stepped into the wardroom, a bowl of ice cream in hand. “Don’t have,” he said.

“Huh?” McBride was confused.

“You said, ‘ain’t got.’ You should have said, ‘don’t have.’”

“He’s just speaking in his west Texas dialect, Captain,” said T’Ser.

“Is this ‘bust the XO’s chops’ day?” groused McBride.

“Everyday,” smiled the Captain as he spooned a mouthful of cherry vanilla ice cream. He waved the spoon toward T’Ser. “We may not have Sherlock Holmes, but we do have a genuine Vulcan on board.”

T’Ser frowned at the unexpected turn of the conversation. “Um, what?”

“Maybe if our stowaway were convinced that our resident Vulcan can get the truth from her, she would open up.”

“Captain, I know as much about Vulcan mental disciplines as your bowl of ice cream,” she pointed out.

“I know that and you know that, but Ms. Strauss or whoever she is doesn’t know that.”

“Good cop, bad cop?” asked McBride, grinning.

“Something like that,” agreed Akinola.

T’Ser smiled. “Okay, I’m in.”

* * *

So what do I do know? wondered Inga. On the one hand, anything I say could have dire consequences for the future timeline. Yet, I can’t get back on my own and the longer I stay here, the greater the chances the timeline gets screwed up. It’s a lose-lose proposition.

She pondered all of the scenarios she could imagine. None were particularly heartening.

Perhaps if I only tell the Captain?. . . No – he can’t help me by himself. But if I do tell them . . .

She wished she had paid more attention to the lecture about temporal paradoxes at the Academy. Not that it would have helped much – it was mostly a lot of blather about quantum mechanics. Bottom line – time travel was not to be trifled with.

Too late to bemoan that now, she mused. The whisper of the sickbay doors opening caused her head to turn.

Captain Akinola entered, followed by Commander McBride and T’Ser.

This is turning into a regular family reunion, she thought, dryly.

Akinola looked stern. “Alright, Commander Strauss, or should I say, Lieutenant Commander? Time to cut through the bull and tell us what you are doing here and why you are not on the Thunderchild?”

The thought jolted Strauss. I guess I am on the Thunderchild, she mused.

“Don’t think you can pull one over on us,” drawled McBride. “Lt. T’Ser is a Vulcan adept. She can spot a lie a parsec off!”

That was too much for Strauss. She started to giggle. Perhaps it was accumulated stress or the effect of the medication, but the idea of her old friend, T’Ser, as an adept was too much.

Obviously, this was not the response they expected. Both of T’Ser’s eyebrows shot up. Akinola frowned and McBride looked puzzled.

“You don’t seem to be taking this very seriously,” admonished Akinola.

Strauss placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. In for a penny, in for a pound, she decided. “S – sorry,” she said, enjoying the expression on T’Ser’s face, “but that is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Indeed?” asked T’Ser in her best Vulcan intonation. She couldn’t quite hide the fact that she was slightly offended.

Inga wiped her eyes. “Oh, get over yourself T’Ser. You’ve always had a terrible poker face. How are your Mom and Dad in Seattle?”

The Vulcan Lieutenant looked stunned. “How did you . . .”

This was too much for the Captain. “Enough! I’m going to ask you some direct questions, Ms. Strauss, or whoever you are, and I better get some straight answers or you will spend the rest of the voyage in the brig.”

“Yes sir,” replied Strauss, abashed. “I apologize – this is weird for me too. Weirder, perhaps.” The seriousness of her situation suddenly fell upon her. She looked at the three officers with a plaintive expression.

“I am seriously in need of your help. I know you well enough to trust you, but I’m not sure you will believe me.”

Akinola regarded her quietly for a moment. It was obvious this woman was in distress. “You seem to know quite a bit about us, yet we know next to nothing about you. Your DNA profile matches that of an officer currently aboard the USS Thunderchild, yet here you are – halfway across the quadrant from that ship. We’ve ruled out you being a shape-shifter, but that leaves the question: who – are- you?”

Inga nodded, the stress evident on her face. “The Strauss on Thunderchild is me. . . was me. Four years ago.”

The room was quiet for a moment as this statement sunk in.

“Are you saying,” began Akinola quietly, “that you are from the future?”

She swallowed. “Yes sir. I am.”

“Now hold on!” protested McBride. “That’s a pretty far-fetched claim.”

“She’s telling the truth.”

They turned to see Dr. Baxter walking from his cubicle, holding up a medical data PADD.

“It took me a while to figure out the reason for the anomaly I discovered on her brain scan.” The white-haired physician smiled at Inga. “Forgive me for eavesdropping, my dear, but you are still my patient.” He returned his gaze to Akinola. “Her DNA is a match for the Inga Strauss in the Starfleet database, but her bio-signature was off slightly. That is because our bio-signature changes over time. The anomaly I discovered can be explained by her aging approximately four years.”

Akinola returned his gaze to Strauss, who looked miserable and more than a little afraid.

“So what do we do with you now?” he asked, softly.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED

 

[Nerys Ghemor]

Ooooh...I can't wait to see how this goes! It's definitely funny to watch the crew we know and love react to Inga as a total stranger (especially the bit with T'Ser--classic!).

 

[BrotherBenny]

OK, I have a question here. If she travelled back in time, wouldn't Captain Akinola have remembered the incident, meeting Strauss before she came aboard? How come it hasn't been mentioned before?

[O'Brien]Time travel gives me a headache[/O'Brien]

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Hmmm...I'm thinking that this might not be just traveling back in time, but also into a slightly different parallel universe. As brotherbenny pointed out, Captain Akinola not remembering the incident--although, he wouldn't have said anything anyway--Temporal Prime Directive and all that. But to me, the key is the burgundy uniforms as, IIRC, the Border Service was wearing the DS9 style uniform in 2373...

 

[BrotherBenny]

But then why does Strauss not think it that unusual that they're wearing that uniform? This is certainly not the Mirror Universe, but I suppose it could be another one. The amount of energy between the ion storm and the transporter would have been enough for a transuniverse beaming.

 

[CeJay]

Gotta be a parallel universe. Of course there could be a dozen other explanations as well. The important questions now is, how to get Strauss back into the right place and time.

No offense to the Border Dogs but they're not exactly scientific experts. Maybe T'Ser will come up with something, she is Vulcan after all and her logic skills ... oh, never mind.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Thanks for reading and the comments, everyone. Glad you like the story thus far.

Let me clear up a few matters to avoid confusion (or perhaps, add to it. )

RE: Dale McBride's mustache. I mentioned it in his first Bluefin appearance, "Cascade Effect." I'm not sure I mentioned the 'stache in later stories, but let's assume it's like Will Riker's beard. Here some days, gone others.

RE: The uniforms. The Border Service (aka the poorer cousins of the regular fleet) was slower in upgrading uniforms than the Fleeters. While most of Starfleet was using the DS-9 style jumpsuit by 2373, the Border Service still used a mix of the older tunics and the Voyager style jumpsuits.

RE: Time and universe. Strauss is four years in the past and still in the United Trek universe. So why don't Akinola & co. make mention of this at anytime in the other Bluefin stories? That is a good question! I'll answer it before the story ends.

And CeJay makes an excellent point. The Border Dogs are not exactly the science wiz kids of the Federation. Should they turn Inga over to Starfleet to let them figure out the situation? Or are there other factors to consider? What of the Temporal Prime Directive?

Stay tuned - the answers to (some of) your questions will be answered in the next installment.

 

[Gibraltar]

I'm a little late to this terrific Bluefin story, but I just wanted to acknowledge the outstanding character work, most especially the uber-suspicious Akinola.

This has to be a very bitter-sweet reunion for Inga, especially given what she knows about the future for some of these beloved crew members. The scene where she calls T'Ser on her bluff was just awesome!

Methinks Strauss is going to be undergoing some intensive interviews with those pesky Temporal Investigation Agency types when and if she gets back to her own time.

 

[Mistral]

I, too, liked the bit with T'Ser. Laughed out loud. Interesting paradox you have established-I want to see how you explain the others not remembering.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

“Captain, might I have a word with you?” asked Baxter. It was a request, but there was a note of practiced authority in the former Admiral’s voice.

Akinola glanced at the CMO. “Certainly, Doctor. Mr. McBride, T’Ser – let’s reconvene in 15 minutes in the ward room and allow Ms. Strauss a bit more time to recover.”

McBride and T’Ser exchanged glances, then departed sickbay. The Captain paused to look at Strauss.

“If you know us as well as you say, you know this time displacement stuff is not something we’ve faced. I don’t know yet how we can correct this . . . or if we can at all.”

Inga swallowed and nodded. “I understand, sir.”

He regarded Strauss for a moment. She seemed so young to be a full commander. How alone she must feel, and how helpless. “We’ll talk more – very soon.”

The Captain followed Dr. Baxter into his cubicle. The CMO closed the door to give them privacy.

“Joseph, what are your intentions?”

Akinola spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “Intentions? Hell, Calvin – I have no idea what to do! My first inclination is to turn her over to Starfleet. Maybe someone who has dealt with time travel could help her.”

Baxter shook his head. “No. You’re not going to do that.”

The Captain stared at Baxter. “No? Why the hell not?”

Baxter folded his arms. There was a flinty gleam of steel in his eye. “I never told you much about what I did before I retired as Director of Star Fleet Medical and signing on with the Border Service.”

“No - I suppose not, but I recall that you served as CMO on several ships of the line. What does that have to do with Inga Strauss?”

“Let’s just say that as an admiral, I was privy to things going on behind the scenes of Starfleet. Dark and shameful things. I can’t say too much, but I will tell you this, Joseph: there are elements within Starfleet, who if they got their hands on Ms. Strauss, would bleed her dry to obtain her knowledge of the future.”

Akinola frowned. “Well, it’s not too surprising that Fleet Intel would like to know what the Dominion might do in the next few years.”

“Joseph – setting aside the major problems with that statement – I’m not speaking of a polite debriefing by Fleet Intelligence and finding a place for Ms. Strauss. I would wager that she would disappear – and I don’t mean back to her proper time-line. There are factions within Starfleet that operate in the shadows that lack any scruples and would not hesitate to harm Ms. Strauss or even risk our very future if they could further their agenda.”

The Captain eyed Baxter with skepticism. “Forgive me, Doctor, but that sounds like institutional paranoia to me. Strauss could be a valuable asset – she knows what’s going to happen in the next four years – whether or not we go to war, and what decisions are made that should be changed. She could save thousands of lives!”

“And perhaps caused the deaths of millions more!” Baxter retorted.

Akinola actually drew back. He had never seen the normally mild-mannered surgeon so animated. “Care to explain that statement, Doc?” he asked, evenly.

Dr. Baxter ran a hand through a shock of unruly, white hair. “Sorry, Joseph – I didn’t mean to get so worked up.” He sat heavily in his chair. “And I can’t say much more, except this. I have dealt with a similar situation in the past. No – don’t ask, because it’s classified code-black. Officially, it never happened. If certain people knew I said this much, you would never see me again.”

“Doc . . .”

“Captain, please . . . trust me on this. We only have two real options. One, we figure out how to get Ms. Strauss back to her own time, without revealing this to Starfleet command. There are a few people I trust enough to contact for help.”

“And the other option?”

“She must vanish.”

Akinola was incredulous. “What? You want to kill her?”

Baxter snorted with derision. “Of course not, Joseph! What do you take me for? I want to help the young lady, not harm her.” It was apparent by his tone that he was deeply hurt by the suggestion.

Abashed, Akinola softened his voice. “Well, what do you mean by vanish?”

Baxter sighed. “A poor choice of words. Sorry – this has me on edge. I simply mean, if we cannot return her to the future, she will need a new identity and go some place where no one would know Inga Strauss. It’s a lousy option, but for all our sakes, it must be done if we cannot return her home.”

Home. The word struck a chord with Akinola. “It would seem she is home. Here on Bluefin, in a few years, I mean.”

Baxter eyed Akinola with a worried expression. “Joseph, I caution you not to go there. We must all be careful not to ask too much of her, or even ponder certain things. By knowing too much, we could potentially do as much damage to the time line as she could.”

The Captain rubbed the bridge of his known. “Okay, Doc. We’ll try it your way. Contact whoever you trust for help. I’m going to talk with the XO and T’Ser. Might as well get Deryx and Gralt in too.”

Baxter nodded. “Yes, but I caution you to limit word of our guest. This is strictly need-to-know, Captain. We’re all walking a razor edge – I cannot stress the point enough.”

“I hear you, Doc. Loud and clear. Give us a few minutes so I can bring them up to speed, then bring our guest to the wardroom. Maybe she can provide us some pieces to the puzzle.” He paused. “Calvin . . . are you sure she’s from the future? I don’t want to make a mistake here.”

Baxter nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. And Joseph?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

* * *

Through the transparent aluminum walls, Strauss could not hear the conversation between the Captain and Dr. Baxter, but she could see their expressions and gestures. It was apparent they were arguing.

Arguing about me, she supposed. She let out a breath of frustration. God, what a mess. Who knows what harm I may be doing to the future. Strauss thought about her estranged mother, about her younger brother serving in the Marines, of all her friends and comrades in the service.

The longer I’m here, the greater the danger I am to them, she thought. I can’t be the cause of ruining their lives . . . their future.

Glancing at a stand near her bed, she noticed a programmable hypo-spray. She turned back towards the CMO’s office. Akinola and Baxter were no longer arguing, but their attention was still away from her.

Slowly, Inga reached out, grasped the hypo-spray, and slipped it up the sleeve of her jumpsuit.

Always have a contingency plan, she thought, dryly.

Captain Akinola exited Baxter’s cubicle and approached Strauss. “Ms. Strauss, we’re going to do our best to get you back home. I think you understand that we’re navigating uncharted space, so we must be careful.”

Inga swallowed and smiled. “Yes sir, I agree.”

Akinola appeared ready to say more, hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Good. Dr. Baxter will bring you up to the ward room shortly. I’m going to gather some of the senior staff so we can address the problem and come up with a solution.” He paused, “Obviously, you will have to consider carefully what you tell us. Too little information and you may be stuck in this time period. Too much and, well . . .”

He left the rest unsaid. Inga knew all too well the fine line she must walk. The problem was she could not be sure exactly where the line fell. “Yes sir. I get the picture.”

The Captain nodded. “Good.” He began to step away, paused, and regarded her with a faint smile.

“One quick question that I doubt will affect the fate of the universe . . .”

“Sir?”

“Is that really the uniform we’ll wear in a few years?”

She smiled. “ ‘Fraid so, sir.”

“Kind of dreary looking if you ask me. I’ve always been partial to burgundy. Oh well.” He shook his head ruefully. “See you shortly, Commander.”

As Akinola left sickbay, a sudden feeling – not quiet relief, but close, came over her. For the first time since appearing in this time period, the Captain had called her by her rank.

Somehow, that simple acknowledgement made her feel less alone.

* * *

“What’s so glurking important?” groused Gralt as he trudged into the ward room. “I’m trying to get the thrice-damned number two intercooler flushed.”

“Have a seat, Gralt,” enjoined Akinola. “Where’s Lt. Bane?”

“Here, sir,” replied Bane as he slipped in the door. Akinola spared the young officer a stern look before settling back in his chair and gazing around the ward room.

“What we discuss in this room stays in this room. If I hear that any of you utter one word out of school, I will personally launch you out a torpedo tube. Are we all clear on that?”

There were nods and murmured “yes sirs” all around the table. Even Gralt managed to refrain from a typically sarcastic reply.

“Most of you are aware that a short time ago, we picked up an unexpected passenger while transiting the badlands. Her name is Inga Strauss. She is a commander in the Border Service, or at least she will be in about four years. All evidence thus far indicates she is from our future.”

Bane’s eyes widened in surprise. Gralt snorted derisively.

“Sounds like a pile of Yarliq crap to me, Captain,” the engineer groused. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“As I said, the evidence indicates she is telling the truth,” continued Akinola. “We are going to figure out a way to get her home to her proper time.”

“What? You can’t be serious!” thundered the Tellarite. McBride and Deryx also looked surprised. T’Ser frowned in thought while Bane merely looked pensive.

“Mr. Gralt, I am very serious,” replied the Captain in a terse manner. “So let’s have less histrionics and more focus on the problem at hand. Understood?”

Gralt glowered but wisely held his tongue. The others remained quiet, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“That’s more like it,” continued Akinola. “Commander Strauss and Dr. Baxter will join us shortly. Before they do, I need to establish some ground-rules.”

McBride frowned. “Skipper, with respect, what the hell do any of us know about temporal whatsis? Speaking for myself, I haven’t got a clue.”

“Point well taken, XO. This is new for all of us, but Doc has some contacts that might provide some help, and Commander Strauss can at least tell us what happened on her end that got us here. Let’s don’t quit before we get started, okay?”

McBride’s face reddened at the mild rebuke, but he nodded. T’Ser looked troubled but remained silent.

“Back to the ground-rules. I think you all realize the longer Ms. Strauss is in our present, the greater potential damage exists to the future time-line. So rule one: Do not ask about your future selves or specifics about the Federation, this ship, etc. We need to focus on the circumstances that brought her back in time. From that, we will determine if we can duplicate the same set of circumstances and send her back.”

“Captain,” T’Ser spoke carefully, “I doubt I know more than anyone else about time travel, but even if we discover what brought Strauss here and can duplicate it, how will we know if we’re successful? We could do more harm than good.”

Akinola nodded. “That’s true, Lieutenant. That’s why we’re taking this a step at a time. Let’s hear Ms. Strauss’ story – analyze it, and discuss the possibilities. We’ll also lean on Dr. Baxter for insight.”

“Baxter?” Gralt shook his head in disbelief. “What would that old man know about this?”

“More than any of us, apparently. That also does not leave this room.” Akinola looked around the room. He was met with looks of doubt and concern. He sighed.

“Look, there are no guarantees here. Are we in over our heads? Hell, yes! But I have good reasons not to turn her over to Starfleet . . . and no, I’m not going into them.”

He stood and placed his knuckles on the table, leaning forward for emphasis. “But hear this – Commander Strauss is a Border Dog. She is one of our own. We are going to do all we can and more to see her home. That’s our job.”

That struck home. McBride looked chastened. “You’re right Skipper.” He glanced around at the others. "It is our job, dammit! We've got to step up!"

The door slid open. Doctor Baxter stepped in followed by Inga Strauss, looking none the worse for wear. She offered a tentative smile.

“Hi – I’m Inga Strauss. I guess you all know that by now.”

Dale McBride stepped forward, towering over the petite Strauss. He extended his hand. “Sorry for the rude greetin’ earlier. I’m Dale McBride – welcome aboard the Bluefin, Commander.”

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED

 

[Nerys Ghemor]

Aha...I think that maybe this would explain why Akinola never mentioned this incident or showed any indications of remembering Inga. The fear of Section 31 would mean that he would have to act like none of it happened. Yet paradoxically...it might also explain why Akinola seemed SO sure in the very first Bluefin story that Strauss was right for the job even when she wasn't too crazy about being a Border Dog.

 

[CeJay]

Boy, I sure hope McBride is not going to figure out that Strauss is from the future Bluefin. Even if he is not supposed to ask questions or think about it too much, if he learns she has his job in the future ... awkward.

Really curious to see how they can figure this one out. I suppose trying to re-create the conditions that brought her there would be a good start.

 

[DavidFalkayn]

I'm really enjoying this story. For Inga, seeing Dale McBride and Cal Baxter have to be like seeing ghosts--and I have a feeling Cal's picked up on that. As mentioned earlier, this also explains how Inga was as easily accepted by Joseph as she was when she was first assigned to the Border Service--and probably also to a large extent why she was assigned. I think Deryx might well hold the key here as he's on this Bluefin and also was with Inga in the stallion.

One question though: when does this story take place in relation to "Rocks and Shoals?" I have the Suthy/Bluefin crossover taking place in January 2373--so I'm assuming afterwards. Although--since we haven't seen Solly and Solly was sent on his covert mission before the Bluefin really got involved, this story could be taking place in the beginning stages of "Rocks and Shoals..."

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

One question though: when does this story take place in relation to "Rocks and Shoals?" I have the Suthy/Bluefin crossover taking place in January 2373--so I'm assuming afterwards. Although--since we haven't seen Solly and Solly was sent on his covert mission before the Bluefin really got involved, this story could be taking place in the beginning stages of "Rocks and Shoals..."

Inga has gone back to September 2373 - after "Rocks and Shoals." Solly is on board but since he has yet to see Strauss and lacks the requisite engineering/science skills, he's out of the loop on this one. Gralt was brought in as Chief Engineer, while the others in the meeting had encountered Inga on the ship prior to learning she was from the future.

More temporal headaches to come!