Chapter One
A resounding shudder through the deck plates broke her concentration. Rachel Croft, her eyes dry and tired from glaring at a monitor for hours, looked to the ceiling expecting a klaxon, a call from the bridge, or even another deep rumble that shook the very spaceframe of the ship. But there was nothing. Her already pinched brow tightened even further, straining the muscles over her scalp and deepening the tension headache that she’d grown accustomed too. She waited in the relative silence of her makeshift lab, the pings, chirps and whirs of equipment running self-diagnostics, mixed with the underlying hum of the engines and hiss of the environmental system, being all that she could hear.
Though she had been onboard the Eclipse for almost five months, she still couldn’t get used to the ship. She wasn’t even sure how they kept it together let alone flying—but then again the Ju’day-Class was renowned for its ruggedness, which was why they were so popular with colonist (not to mention the Maquis one upon a time)—though with no other options available to her she couldn’t look the gift horse in the mouth. Even if the old ship did have a few too many rattles, an odd assembly of a crew, and a workspace she’d had to piece together with second-hand equipment. Her ‘lab’, such as it was, had once been an old storage bay as the Eclipse had never been in need of a purpose-built research suite, but seeing as how she was the one who had hired the ship and its crew, she’d needed to have one to carry out her objective. When she’d first come aboard she doubted she would ever have admitted it, but the facility she’d been presented with was of a decent standard—given what they had to work with.
More or less satisfied the ship wasn’t about to fall apart at the seams, she looked back at her monitor intent on continuing where she’d left off, though her eyes refused to focus again. It was when the growl of her stomach echoed in room that she paused.
“Computer, time?”
“The time is oh-three-seventeen hours.”
“What?” she asked herself, aghast.
“The time is oh-three-seventeen hours,” the computer repeated, somehow managing to sound irritated despite its identical tone.
No wonder her eyes were so tired and she suddenly felt so drained, she’d sat down at nineteen hundred. It wasn’t the first time she’d even gotten so engrossed in her work, in fact she was pretty infamous for it right up until the Dominion War, but since hiring the Eclipse she was pulling all-nighters almost daily, getting little in the way of sleep and even less to eat. The logical, reasonable part of her brain screamed at her to pull back on the reigns, reminding herself that she was setting up for a marathon not a sprint, but the dark, obsessed nook that had slowly consumed her wouldn’t ease up. She was facing the greatest mystery, not just of her own career but possibly of the entire century. At least that was what the nagging voice at the back of her mind kept telling her.
She took a deep breath and massaged the back of her neck. Her body was calling it quits for today, she’d need to get something to eat and then get to her cabin for a few hours of unconsciousness, just so she could start it all over again the next day, and the next, and the next until they finally got to where she wanted to be. Though after that day, the real work would begin.
Rising from her chair she groaned as her muscles, accustomed to hours spent sitting, suddenly had to move her once more. She stretched quickly, deactivated her terminal before heading into the narrow corridor.
The Ju’day-Class was compact and lacked the finishing of more modern vessels (she’d taken a couple of weeks to even get used to the old blue and green LCARS displays), but it was also very practical. With only three decks there were stairs and ladders to move between the levels instead of turbolifts, every available space was taken up with equipment lockers, conduits, or display screens. The Eclipse had only nine onboard, the original crew of seven as well as herself and Chief Thorev, her research assistant, so the corridors were quiet. The crew didn’t have any official rota system, as the level of automation the ship had allow it to run smoothly without anyone on the bridge, so the crew always seemed to work together. One or two would burn the midnight oil on occasion, but she doubted there would be anyone else awake at this hour, so it wasn’t surprising that the corridors or stairwells were empty.
She made her way to the ship’s mess, stepped inside, and stopped. She wasn’t the only one awake. Though the Eclipse had a couple of modern replicators, with a good menu, there was nearly always a pot of real coffee on the go—she’d yet to work out where the fresh beans came from though. Standing at the countertop where the coffee pot sat (next to a tray of mugs, real demerara sugar cubes and replicated milk) was Nathan Maguire, the captain of the Eclipse. Like herself, Maguire had obviously never expected to see anyone else awake at three in the morning, so had come to the mess in just his underwear.
He turned as the door opened and she entered, leading to a moment’s pause between the two of them. She was about to excuse herself and leave as quickly as she’d come in, before he smiled.
“Morning Doc,” he said cheerfully, resting against the counter as he sipped from his ‘Quadrant’s Okayest Captain’ mug, seemingly oblivious to his state of undress. Given the fact that the Eclipse wasn’t a Starfleet ship and she was technically on extended leave no one, other than Thorev, addressed her by the rank she held, choosing instead to use doctor (or some form of the title).
“Good morning, Captain,” she said politely. Though she had been onboard for almost five months as they travelled across sectors of unclaimed space to reach their ultimate destination, she had spent most of that time either in the lab or in her cabin, rarely seeing anyone other than Thorev. Other than her Andorian assistant, the captain was the only person privy to the full details of where they were going and why—she’d had to disclose it all before he’d agreed to take them onboard, after all it was a considerable task she was asking him and his crew to undertake. Since setting off, Maguire had made a point of popping his head in every few days to see how things were, being the dutiful captain, but the visits were usually brief and she let Thorev do most of the speaking, so she could keep on working. To Croft he was really only a passing acquaintance, so seeing the man in such a way was a little disconcerting.
Given that she’d planned on getting some sleep right after a light snack, she’d had no intention of going near the coffee pot—even less so now. She moved to the replicator to place her order.
“Working late again, I see.”
“Yes,” she said simply, selecting a breakfast tray of oatmeal and a fruit salad.
“You’ve been doing that fairly frequently since we left DS4, I’d have thought there wouldn’t be much more data for you to analyse.”
She picked up her tray and quickly debated whether to stay in the mess or take it to her quarters, favouring the latter given the captain’s current state.
“There are lots of different ways telemetry can be looked at, I just want to make sure it’s all in my head before we arrive,” she told him, deciding to eat in private.
“Doctor, when we get there then you’ll be gathering far more information than you have right now. If you don’t take a break you’ll burn out,” he said, his jovial tone giving way to something a little harder.
She paused, surprised to hear her own internal conflict vocalised from someone who was still pretty much a stranger to her. Thorev had raised the matter of how far she was pushing herself a couple of times before, though he knew firsthand the complex enigma they faced as well as just how hard she worked.
“I assure you, Captain, I’m perfectly fine. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
“Doctor Croft,” his tone had lost all of its former cheer, becoming almost steely. “I know that this is your mission and I may be nothing more than the spaceship jockey who agreed to take you on it, but this is still my ship and I have a responsibility to look after the wellbeing of all those onboard—even the person who hired me. In my opinion, you need to take a break. Get some proper sleep. At least for a couple of days, make sure you’re refreshed and ready for whatever may lie ahead.”
She opened her mouth to protest before a yawn stopped her. Although she loathed admitting it, he had a point and she didn’t even have the energy to fight him on it. The irony made her smile.
“Are you sure you’re not in Starfleet, Captain?”
His hardened face cracked a sly smile. “Definitely not, for one I doubt I’d be allowed to walk around my own ship in my skivvies.”
“Oh, so you do realise you’re practically naked.”
Maguire shrugged. “My ship, my rules.”
“I’ll remember that, Captain.”
He pushed off the counter, carrying his mug and heading for the exit. “I’ll leave you to your supper-breakfast.” As he passed through the doors he called back before they closed. “Stay out of the lab!”
Croft watched him go, surprised both by his level of insight into her and just how much she’d been looking as his butt as he’d left. She chuckled to herself setting down her tray on one of the small tables, opting to eat in the now empty mess. I definitely must be losing my focus, she realised if she was starting to make such crude observations—no matter how nice his glutes might’ve been.
* * * * *
Stepping onto the bridge, Ro Sandoval yawned as he ducked his head to fit through the hatch—he’d only had to make that mistake once (it was one of the rare occasions he actually appreciated his half-Klingon physiology, the bony ridges on his forehead had saved him any serious injury). It came as no surprised that Kell Sined was already there, sitting at the ops station checking over all the logs from the night; in the three years they’d been working together he’d never beaten her to their duty stations, at least not first thing in the morning.
“Morning,” he said mid yawn, stepping around the Captain’s chair.
“Hi Ro,” she replied, not looking up. He’d long since learned that she wasn’t being rude, but rather she didn’t let anything (other than an emergency) interfere with her morning routine.
The bridge wasn’t a large room, if anything it was an oversized cockpit, helm and ops at the front under the viewports, tactical was on the starboard side just behind the helm, whilst an engineering/science station was on the opposite bulkhead. There were a pair of system display monitors, then several equipment lockers before the exit at the rear, only the Captain’s chair and workstations sat in the middle of the deck. Despite there being quite a lot packed in such a small space, it still never felt cluttered or cramped—even if the ceiling was a little too low for the likes of Ro and Kell, who was only five centimetres shorter than his two meter frame.
He slipped into the helm, at which point Kell looked at him and gave him a smile before focusing on her checks and diagnostics. He entered his security code and brought his station to life, looking over the guidance system, engine monitoring displays, and assessing the helm functions before disengaging the autopilot. Even though there wasn’t much for him to be doing as they warped through space in a straight line, he still preferred to keep the controls on manual. There was nothing of note from the sensor logs that had impacted on their course or speed, so he looked at the navicomp monitor. It tracked their position in real time, from where they’d left Deep Space Four out to the unnamed cluster of star systems that was their ultimate destination. With only three days to go until they arrived at the first system, they had left Federation space almost one hundred light-years behind them.
This was the first time the Eclipse had been so far out on her own and he had to admit it was a little unsettling—all for a pair of scientists carry out some work. He still wasn’t entirely sure why they were going there, though he had heard the Eclipse wasn’t the first ship that’d been approached, but had been the only one willing to go on such a long journey. He’d only met the lead scientist twice, first when she’d come onboard and then again a chance meeting as they’d passed each other in a corridor—she didn’t seem to be the most personable, though her assistant, Thorev, was a different story. He seemed to be sociable enough for the both of them, which was definitely needed. Once he learned that Thorev was proficient at Galeo-Manada wrestling the two had sparred frequently, proving to be well matched—of course it did mean that Ro needed to brush up on his techniques and try to learn a few more, so that the scientist didn’t best him.
“Jossa to bridge.”
Ro smiled to himself, casting a look at Kell, whose shoulders slumped. “Go ahead,” she replied into the comlink.
“I didn’t happen to leave my diagnostics tablet up there yesterday?”
“You did.”
“I suspected as much, I’ll pop up and get it.”
“No need, I put it in your toolkit last night.”
“You did?”
“You’ve not even opened it up, have you,” she stated, already knowing the answer.
There was a brief pause. “There it is, slipped behind my hyperspanner so I didn’t see it.”
“Yes I’m sure.”
“Thank you, dear.”
The comlink closed and Ro had to fight to keep from snickering. Obviously not hard enough as she shot him a look, which only made him laugh out loud. Kell’s shoulders slumped lower and she sat back in her chair.
“How hard is it to put your tools away in the proper place once you’re finished with them? For Jossa it seems to be an alien concept!”
“The joys of married life, you’ll be picking up after him for the rest of your life.”
“Or his, it’ll be shorter if he keeps this up,” she muttered under her breath.
He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Well I did tell you not to get married, but you wouldn’t listen so on your own head be it.”
“Next time try harder.”
“Planning on husband number two already?”
“Come on, Ro, you should know by now, I always have a backup handy,” she mock whispered with a theatrical wink.
They laughed. When he’d first met the tall, platinum blonde Trill he’d found her to be pretty distant, her highly efficient manner so unlike the others on the crew (especially that of Jossa) that she just seemed an oddity, but after working next to her he’d come to appreciate her subtle humour and had seen her relax a little—at least when it was just the two of them on the bridge.
The doors behind them parted as the laughter eased. Kell looked back first and her eyes opened a little wider. Just before Ro turned a warm, sweet smell filled his nostrils, overwhelming the bitter undertones of fresh coffee. He spun his chair around to see Thorev step onto the bridge, carrying a small tray. The Andorian, like Ro and Kell, automatically stooped a little—though the ceiling was at least ten centimetres above even his antennae, the slope down to the forward stations always made the room feel lower than it really was.
“Good morning you two,” he said, a wide smile on his bearded face.
“Mr Thorev,” replied Kell by way of greeting, her tone a little more formal than mere moments earlier.
“Hey Thorev,” he added, more focused on the tray than the man. Two metal mugs from the mess next to a plate with two purple items on it, both the size of Ro’s clenched fist.
“I’d heard that you two were already up here before I could offer you something homemade,” he came around the centre seat and set the tray down between them.
Ro peered at the two round objects, the appearance of which was that of violet coloured stones, but the aroma already had his mouth watering. “What are they?” he asked bluntly.
“Rigellian fruit puffs, a traditional breakfast on Rigel Four. My bunkmate, back when I was a recruit, always made them to remind himself of home, then taught me the secrets to their success. Since there’s not much left to do before we reach the cluster, I thought I’d get my bakers hat back on.”
“You made them? From scratch?” Kell asked dubiously.
“With my own fair blue hands.”
Ro didn’t need any more persuasion, picked up one of the lighter than air pastries and bit into it. The pastry flaked and crumbled into his goatee, whilst the bite he took seemed to simply evaporate in his mouth, bringing with it a wave of sweetness offset by a the sharp tart fruit, which lasted only a moment. He was left speechless.
Kell watched him, eyebrow raised. “Well?”
“Oh, you won’t like it,” he told her reaching for the other one.
She slapped his hand away and picked it up. With her first bite she moaned in delight, looking up at Thorev with a new sense of appreciation. “Wow!”
He smiled at her. “Jossa said you’d like it.”
“You may end up becoming the ship’s cook if you keep this up.”
Thorev shrugged as Ro devoured the rest of his pastry. “It’d be the least I could do, after all you’re putting yourselves out by taking us here.”
“You’re welcome,” mumbled Ro with a mouthful, sending crumbs flying.
Kell scowled at him like a disapproving parent. “It is very much appreciated, Mr Thorev. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I’ll let you get back to your duties.”
As he left, Ro started picking rogue flakes from his facial hair. “You know, when this job is finished and we take them back to Starfleet, I’m going to miss that guy.”
The ops manager chuckled and shook her head, savouring her fruit puff as she returned to her morning routine.
* * * * *
Even from the corridor, Sined Jossa could hear the most wondrous singing of his life. Before he entered he stood beside the doors and listened, knowing that there was only one person onboard with such a voice. Growing up on Bajor, young Hinon Jossa hadn’t had much to sing about, though one of his earliest (and only) memories of his mother was her singing him to sleep. Unfortunately, it was one of the few talents he’d never been able to pick up so was always a little envious of those who could.
As much as he’d liked to have listened to the full performance, he’d been asked to run full diagnostics on the transporters before they reached their destination—to make sure that everything was running smoothly for the two researchers to carry out their work. He tapped the door entry panel and stepped into cargo bay three, the largest one onboard at the rear of C Deck. Despite being filled with freight, equipment, and a quartet of speeder bikes, its large volume offered it the best acoustics of anywhere else on the Eclipse, so it wasn’t the first time he’d interrupted a solitary concert in the last eighteen months.
However when he entered the cargo bay he was confronted with a sight he’d never expected to see. Sitting, cross-legged, on a crate in the middle of the bay, her back to the entrance was Sister Inaia, the source of the exquisite sounds—that in itself wasn’t the surprising part, the fact she was as naked as the day she was born was what had Jossa’s eyes wide and made his eyebrows reach his hairline.
Before he could retreat, to save her modesty, Inaia stopped and turned her head to look at him, a serene smile on her beautifully angular face.
“Hello Jossa,” she said, her speaking voice always had an incredible lyrical quality to it.
“Um, hi there Sister. I had some work to do in here, but I can come back.”
“Nonsense, I was merely here to meditate, but you have more right to be here than I.”
As he was about to tell her it wasn’t a problem, she stood up and retrieved the robe that had been lying next to her on the crate. He quickly averted his eyes, suddenly becoming very engrossed in the shipping label of a case of ration bars.
He heard a throaty chuckle. “I’d never have had you down for being quite so prudish.”
Casting a glance back at her, he breathed a sigh of relief to see she was covered up, though just barely. “I’m a happily married man, Sister.”
“That I don’t doubt, but a body is just a body, I have no qualms about who might look upon mine.”
“Yes but Detlans have an unfair advantage.”
“From what I understand, Bajorans have a few advantages themselves.”
He felt his dark cheeks flush, not knowing what to say to that. For a brief second he wondered if Kell had spoken about their relations to Inaia, but discounted the possibility almost as quickly as the thought formed, his wife liked their privacy—as difficult as that was on such a small ship, especially with this crew.
His face must’ve been a picture as Inaia laughed again. “I’ve studied Bajoran anatomy, even spent some time on a few of your outlying colonies during my pilgrimage.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. With her demeanour and manner it was easy to overlook the fact that she was medical doctor as well as a priest. She was the first Deltan he’d ever spent any considerable time with and had to wonder if it was a trait of her species, or just those in her religious order. She had come onboard a year and a half ago, looking to help as they’d made supply runs to various refugee camps near the front lines. It hadn’t taken long for her to be indoctrinated into the crew.
“Well I hope you won’t have to put your knowledge to use where I’m concerned.”
“As do I, Jossa. I won’t keep you any longer, good day to you,” she said with a slight bow of her bald head.
“And to you,” he replied, mimicking her bow.
When he was alone in the cargo bay he took a deep breath and shook his head, had it not been for Kell being the only woman he had eyes for then he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist her allure—he had to wonder just how the Captain, Ro and Talek all managed to restrain themselves, after all none of them were married or involved with anyone and Inaia was one of only two available women onboard (discounting their passenger). He smiled to himself, not for the first time thinking himself lucky to have Kell in his life.
I better get these diagnostics finished before she kills me then, he told himself, chuckling as he headed over to the cargo transporter.
* * * * *