Commander Strauss gratefully accepted the chair offered by Lt. Bane. She looked around the ward room, smiling shyly. How bizarre to be a stranger in a room filled with her closest friends.
“I’ll second the XO’s greetings, Commander Strauss. Welcome aboard Bluefin. I’m sure you can understand our initial response to your arrival,” said the Captain.
“Yes sir, completely. I appreciate the care I received from Dr. Baxter and for you hearing me out.” She paused. “I apologize for the trouble my appearance has caused.”
“Trouble is an understatement,” replied Akinola, mildly, “but what’s done is done. Let’s focus on a solution. Commander Strauss – these officers and Chief Deryx are the only ones on board that will be involved in this discussion. As best you can, describe to us what happened to you that caused you to travel back to this point in time. I needn’t remind you that must be careful not to provide too many details of the future.”
“Yes sir, I’ve considered that.” Strauss cleared her throat and clasped her hands on the table. A cup of water appeared before her, courtesy of Lt. T’Ser. Inga smiled and glanced at the Vulcan Ops officer.
“Could I trouble you for coffee instead?”
T’Ser smiled. “Sure.” She poured a mug for Inga and returned to her own chair at the table.
“Thank you,” said Strauss. She took a sip of the familiar brew and pursed her lips in thought. The room was quiet, save for the slight hum of the environmental system.
“Alright,” she began, “I was on a SAR mission in the badlands aboard a star stallion. The . . . cutter was wrapping up another SAR effort, so we took the stallion to pick up the crew of a Corvallen freighter that suffered engine failure and drifted into an ion storm. The storm was holding at force 3, so we figured we had ample time to pick up the crew and return to the, um, ship before things got too bad. We were wrong.”
Gralt interrupted. “Which cutter?” he asked, curtly. Strauss blinked in surprise.
Akinola frowned. “Is that important?”
“Might be. If we’ve any chance of sending her back, we’ll need to know the variables involved – types of ships, tonnage, power output, hells – probably a hundred more variables that I can’t imagine. But if we jrelli foot around all this, we’re just left with a story and no important details.”
Strauss glanced helplessly at Akinola for guidance. The Captain looked at Baxter.
“Doc? What do you think?”
Baxter shrugged. “It’s a risk, but I think Gralt’s right. We probably need to know those things.” He looked at Strauss. “Just try to avoid much in the way of detail regarding the crew.”
“We need to know who else was on the Stallion,” pointed out Gralt. “At least get an idea of their body mass. Like I said, there’s a Buurluk load of data we need.”
Okaaay, thought Inga, you asked for it. “The cutter was the Bluefin. This very ship. I was on Stallion oh-one with Chief Deryx.”
Deryx looked surprised at this revelation. For the most part, the others looked intrigued, though T’Ser appeared troubled.
“I think we all suspected as much,” said Akinola. “Now that we have that out in the open, please continue.”
Strauss did so, describing the fairly routine rescue of the four crew members of the freighter, the sudden and frightening build-up of the ion storm, and their race to rendezvous with Bluefin.
“I never saw a storm build so quickly,” continued Strauss. The others were listening with rapt attention. “The Captain ordered Bluefin to move our way, but the storm kept expanding. It engulfed the stallion – Chief Deryx did a masterful job of piloting us, but it was rough. That’s when I bit my tongue, Doctor. Our shields were failing, the impulse engines were red-lined and time was running out. To make matters worse, the ionic radiation precluded using the tractor beams to tow us out. We only had one option left.”
“You’re not saying we beamed out?” blurted Deryx, forgetting she was speaking of his future self.
Inga smiled. “Yes, Chief – that’s what I’m saying. You guided us under the engineering hull and brought the stallion’s shields in contact with the Bluefin’s shields. That enabled us to open a small shield window, so we could beam one person over at a time.”
Gralt was making notes on his PADD. “Did you use pattern enhancers?”
“Yes – at both ends. We got the freighter crew off okay. Chief, you gave me some grief over being last off, so I pulled rank. You beamed over, and then it was my turn.” She took a breath, recalling those intense, terrifying moments.
“I was about to initiate transport when the shields on the stallion failed. I remember hearing the warning from the computer, and I felt the pull of the transporter beam just as the stallion broke up. There was this odd, white light . . . I got real dizzy, which doesn’t usually happen to me during transport . . . next thing I know, I’m on the ship. Only . . . not when I should be.”
Inga looked around and shrugged. “That’s all I know to tell you.”
“What was the storm intensity when the stallion broke up?” queried Gralt.
She frowned. “It was force 9 at one point. When we finally reached Bluefin it was nearly at that level – borderline force 8 to force 9.”
The engineer shook his head. “Whose crazy idea was it to use the transporter in a force 9 storm?”
Yours, Inga almost said, but decided that was not “need-to-know.” Instead she said, “It worked, didn’t it?”
Gralt looked up from his PADD and grunted. “I suppose,” he muttered.
They spent the next hour discussing theories, counter-theories and hare-brained schemes, but no solid plan of action resulted from the meeting. Akinola stood, signaling an end to the gathering.
“I think we’ve hammered this enough for now. We’re beginning to talk in circles. Doc? Can you get in touch with those 'reliable contacts' you mentioned?”
Baxter nodded. “Right away.”
“Good. Let’s take a break. Remember – do not discuss this with any one else on board. If any one of you has a sudden brilliant flash of insight, let me know ASAP. For now, return to your normal duties. Dale? Let’s get turned around and head back toward the badlands. I have a feeling whatever happens will take place there. T’Ser – please escort Commander Strauss to guest quarters – discreetly.”
“Of course. Commander? This way please.”
Inga followed T’Ser into the familiar corridor outside the ward room. Very little had changed in four years, she observed. The carpets were the same and the turbolift had the same shimmy between deck four and three.
T’Ser led her around the curved corridor of deck three, opposite where her (McBride’s, in this time period) quarters were located.
The Vulcan Lieutenant stopped in front of a cabin door and entered a code, unlocking the room. Strauss was suddenly awash in a feeling of deja vous. This was so much like their first encounter when Inga joined the crew of the Bluefin in 2376.
“Here you are, Commander. It’s somewhat Spartan, but you can rest and freshen up. I guess you already know there are no replicators.”
Strauss smiled. “Yes, I know.”
T’Ser hesitated. It was obvious that something was troubling her.
“Is something wrong?” asked Strauss.
“Um. No . . . Yes.” She sighed. “I can’t ask what I need to ask and it’s driving me crazy.”
Inga’s throat tightened. I know exactly what you want to ask, she thought. You want to know why there will be a Commander Strauss on Bluefin and what will become of Commander McBride. Outwardly, she remained silent.
T’Ser uttered a mirthless laugh and brushed away a single tear. “This is crazy. I don’t even know you. And there are so many possible simple answers to my question, but . . .”
“T’Ser, I can’t . . .”
“I know, I know,” the Vulcan replied quickly. She wiped at her face for any stray tears and forced a smile. “This has to suck for you, too.”
Strauss laughed. The tension in the air that had rapidly built dissipated with equal speed. “Yeah – that’s putting it mildly.”
“From what you said down in sick bay . . . it’s pretty obvious you know me.” She paused. “Are we friends?”
Strauss did not hesitate. “Yes, T’Ser. We’re very good friends.”
The beautiful Vulcan nodded. “I’m glad,” she said, softly. T’Ser straightened. “I better get to the bridge – my duty shift starts in a few minutes. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
Inga nodded. “I will. Thanks.”
T’Ser flashed a quick smile before retreating down the corridor.
Inga stepped inside the empty cabin and waited for the door to slide shut before she leaned heavily against the wall. She took a couple of deep, calming breaths and stepped inside the compact head to splash water on her face. The cool water, though soothing, did little to ease the apprehension in her heart.
* * *
Dr. Baxter hummed to himself, waiting for his comm signal to be routed. He thought about the young woman and her conundrum. And, he thought about the look on her face when she awoke to see him.
You were shocked to see me, weren’t you? he mused. That wasn’t a look of mere surprise – you looked like you had just seen a ghost.
His terminal chimed and the image of T’Ser appeared on the screen. “I have an open channel to Dr. Beverly Crusher on Enterprise. She’s standing by, Doctor.”
Baxter set aside thoughts of his own future and mortality and forced a smile on his face. “Thank you, T’Ser. I’m ready.”
The image shifted. Beverly Crusher, CMO of the USS Enterprise appeared. Wavy red hair framed a lovely, smiling face. Her eyes sparkled at seeing her old friend and colleague.
“Calvin! My gosh, it’s been so long. It’s wonderful to see you. You look great!”
“And you, Beverly, are a lovely and gracious liar, but I appreciate you saying so."
She laughed. “Retirement didn’t suit you, I suppose?”
“It didn’t take too many rounds of golf for me to get bored. Starfleet wouldn’t take me back, but the Border Service seems glad to have my services. I now live the life of a humble border cutter CMO.”
“Good for you! So – what’s the occasion for the call? Not that I’m not glad to hear from you.”
Baxter’s expression became more serious. “I need a favor, Beverly – a big one.”
“You only need to ask.”
The old CMO tapped a control on his terminal. “Bev, I’ve encrypted the signal from this end. I would ask you to do the same.”
A slender eyebrow arched upward. “Okaaay – done. Why the cloak and dagger stuff?”
He fixed her with an intense gaze. “Somonak,” he said, simply.
She closed her eyes briefly. “I had nearly forgotten about that.” She reopened her eyes, which were now troubled. “I’m not sure I can help, Calvin. I no longer have those files.”
That would have been too much to hope, he thought. “I figured as much. What I really need is the young engineer who figured everything out. Forgive me, but my memory isn’t what it once was – what was his name?”
She smiled. “Barclay. Lt. Reginald Barclay. But he’s not on Enterprise any more. He recently returned to Jupiter Station.”
Baxter brightened. “That would put him closer to us than you are. I think he may be the answer to our problem.”
Crusher looked pensive. “Calvin, no offense – but shouldn’t you let someone else handle this? I mean, you’re on a border cutter for Pete’s sake.”
“Never underestimate a Border Dog, Beverly. And don’t forget what happened to Somonak’s twin – you know we can’t trust those people. That’s why I’m taking the back-channel route with people I can trust.”
She winced. “Point taken. God, what a tragedy! Calvin – please let me know if I can help further. I’m sorry I couldn’t provide those files.”
“You’ve helped immensely, my dear. I wish I could chat, but time, as they say, is of the essence.”
Crusher chuckled. “Bad pun, Calvin, but appropriate. I wish you the best of luck. Take care! Crusher, out.”
Beverly Crusher’s image had barely faded before Baxter was again contacting Lt. T’Ser.
“T’Ser? Dr. Baxter again. Please open a priority channel to Jupiter Station, Sol Sector, direct to Admiral Owen Paris. I’ll be standing by.”
* * *
TO BE CONTINUED
This is definitely a fine mess for all involved--I feel sorry for Inga, it has to be painful for her to see Baxter again, knowing what his fate is and unable to say or do anything to change it, not to mention Dale--knowing what's going to happen to him and how it's going to affect her future friend, T'Ser. But it also gives her an unique opportunity--she has a chance now to really get to know them as human beings. If you think about it, that's really a rare gift.
Granted, I'm still just getting to know her... you so may very well be right. 
if Akinola called command and asked for one that could work for four years and start asking question.
Might as well see if Reg Barclay can give it a shot. (And why did I think this would be a short-story?) 
