hellsgate
Commodore
=^=Star Trek: Out Of Uniform=^=
"Pandora's Star" (Part One)
Story by Jason K.S. Hauck
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http://www.angelfire.com/pe/Relentless50/OsirisClass.html
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“It’s never too late to be what you might’ve been.”
- George Elliott
Alicia Madison Crichton stepped out of her hotel room and onto the deck to take in some genuinely fresh air. She curled a tapered knee beneath herself with a warm cup of herbal tea to help her decide how she’d really enjoy spending the first day of a well-earned vacation. A few aero-cars silently wafted across the horizon. An orbital pod approached the mechanical entrance to a secured underground hangar deck built into the mountainside & descended into its gaping maw before it disappeared again behind a holographic mirage.
The Osiris-Class Vonnegut would be back for their First Officer in five days. The hours that spanned from her arrival until now had been almost uneventful – well, except for the passionate nocturnal rutting of the neighbors upstairs. Madison sought out a restaurant for breakfast. After getting back, she set-up her easel, doodled an outline of the terrain with pencil, then set-up her oils to capture the landscape for posterity.
Around lunchtime, the upstairs neighbor made a brief appearance on their veranda. They noticed the new arrival, engaged her in a little small talk and apologized for making her at all uncomfortable. Madison was momentarily tempted to accept their implied invitation to come upstairs and join them but proposed a rain check for another night. The alien couple politely acquiesced.
The planet she’d decided to vacation on was called Borealis Three. Borealis Three was a “Class M” (Earth-like) world that hadn’t found it necessary to align itself with any of its neighbors. Borealis Three was located in a Free Trade Zone nestled equidistant between three developing alien civilizations. The society on Borealis Three prided itself as an impressive melting pot of races from three out of the four quadrants.
The alien flagship that had hailed them at the solar system’s perimeter boasted extensive technologies that stumped the Vonnegut’s engineers. Captain Michael Ellison offered their Ambassador an exchange of star-maps as proof that Starfleet had sent them out on a mission of peaceful exploration. After a few more conversations, a select few personnel were granted shore leave. Madison was delegated to one of the rotating away teams to the surface.
The local government went to extensive measures to ensure safe but enticing and memorable visits for its clientele. As part of their general security procedures, the away team personnel were all patted-down, non-invasively electronically swept for potential contraband and released. Their Arrow-Class runabout and all its’ contents were politely confiscated by the local spaceport authorities. Madison was politely made to understand that it was just until they decided to leave, that all of them were free to go anywhere they liked, and, of course, free to leave anytime they wanted.
The city they were staying in was situated in a Caribbean-like cove along the planet’s equatorial band. A few humanoids of every age and walk-of-life were enjoying something similar to parasailing and others were just lounging on the beach at the foot of the hotel. Sometime between lunchtime and dinnertime, Madison had completed her painting over a cheese sandwich & a glass of local wine. It was time to get out of the hotel & have a look around.
Dressing in a thin white summer top & a colorful sarong, she made her way through the capitol city. She noticed the streets filling to overflowing with families and buskers of every variety. Fire-eaters, stilt-walkers & sleight-of-hand magicians made the city more like her hometown of New Orleans. She meandered aimlessly past the bars, various theaters, the retail district, and into a city park with rickshaws & carriages being pulled by (what looked like) horses from Earth.
She thought the Vonnegut had been the first Earth vessel this far out, but dismissed it.
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33 year-old Lieutenant Jason Ferreira had been tempted to nod-off at his post. Tonight was the first time he’d been asked to fill-in for Alicia, so he’d come somewhat prepared for a boring eight & a half hour shift. He’d asked his superior officer for some suggestions to help him stay awake. He’d finished the informal get-to-know-you interviews, used a pen & pad of paper to double-check their provisions & write up a report about current yields in the Hydroponics Bay.
They’d decided to enter into geo-synchronous orbit of a lush little Class M moon only slightly bigger than Earth’s & launched a handful of Type III, Type V, & Type VII probes. The probes hadn’t disappointed them. The telemetry detected small mammalian, bipedal beings that scientists observing them nicknamed ‘Ewoks’ on their reports.
Four hours into his first night as Commanding Officer, Jason was about to suggest a coffee break in Eleven Forward to catch the tail end of Open Mic Night.
A Griffin-Class Romulan Science Vessel appeared very suddenly a few million kilometers off the port ventral side of their saucer section. As soon as the ship appeared, it just crumbled in an unspectacular puff of loose debris without an apparent cause. Seconds later, a large moon sized alien device composed of an indecipherable techno-organic mass sent out tentacles to consume the wreckage.
The aboriginal officer at Flight Operations spun around in his seat, one hand on the button to engage evasive maneuvers, “Specific orders, sir?”
“Mister Grey Eagle…. Get us the frell out of here. Break orbit & get us back to the Borealis System at maximum warp. Someone please appraise the Captain on our situation up here. Operations – get Borealis Three on subspace. Tactical, let’s leave a warning buoy behind -- about that…that thing.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice, sir. My foot’s already to the floor.” The ex-Maquis operative began feverishly trying a variety of escape courses that wouldn’t rip the nacelles off the hull performing a migraine-inducing set of gees, even with inertial dampers at full power. No damage reports came in, save for a few minor injuries in Sick Bay incurred by off-duty personnel enjoying holodeck programs that canceled without warning upon declaration of Red Alert.
Nominal lighting on the bridge succumbed to an angry crimson strobe. Everyone came alive, arming the phaser-lance system and informing the infirmary to prepare for casualties. Meanwhile, the E.M.H. of the late Leonard McCoy was less than thrilled about the reason he was reactivated at such an ungodly hour. He was quoted as having berated the nurse on-duty “, and for a ‘false alarm’ of all things!” before curtly self-terminating the program.
“Shields up!! Go phasers-hot. Arrange for photon and quantum torpedoes on stand-by. Remember – do not fire unless fired-upon. Science – where the frell did that thing come from & are we being pursued?”
“Sir. All systems are ‘go’. Repeat - all systems are ‘go’.” Said An’pur. The female Klingon Tactical Officer jettisoned the requested warning buoy. She engaged the multi-layered shield system as the buoy left their defense perimeter & she pre-warmed the holographic masking system. “Warning buoy is away.”
“Negative, sir. It’s not even looking up from its newspaper, Sir,” exclaimed Ensign Jennifer Garlinski. She was the day-shift science officer, temporarily reassigned from the Anthropology and Archeology department. She was the administrator in-charge of any duck-blind missions to a planet’s surface. Her face displayed bewilderment as she attempted to lock-down any tangible observations about the alien creature on her console.
“Where’s a Betazoid when you need one?” Garlinski muttered. “It’s definitely met the Borg. Sir. There are scads of the Borg’s nanoprobes all over our friend out there, trying to dig their teeth into him. It’s scarcely bothered to notice either of us so far. It hasn’t attacked us as though we’ve interrupted a mating ritual, desecrated its nest, or bothered to turn and challenge us for dominance. Whatever substance or sentience it has are both inconclusive.”
As the creature retreated into the depths of whatever hell it emerged from, long-range sensors picked up a Romulan artificial singularity core. The creature had suddenly regurgitated it into normal space. Commander Ferreira momentarily considered ordering helm to bank around to beam it into a cargo bay for examination. Captain Richard Martin strode onto the bridge and sat down next to Jason.
The Captain politely asked his Yeoman if he’d mind getting him some breakfast.
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For the next few hours, Alicia continued to enjoy participating in buskers’ acts. She’d browse clothing stores & donate credits to other street entertainers as she absent-mindedly strode through each neighborhood leading into a city park. She enjoyed nuzzling some small children who’d gestured her over to them from their mom and dads’ abdominal harnesses. She almost hadn’t noticed the statue located right in the middle of the field until she nearly walked right into it. Her peripheral vision caught sight of the concrete obelisk & caught herself, preventing a collision with it.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The object at the pinnacle of the memorial was an NX-Class starship & its crew. They had somehow arrived here from the United Earth Space Probe Agency, the immediate precursor to her own modern-day Starfleet Command about 200 years ago. Just as Alicia turned to hurry back to a public communications kiosk, she ran full steam into a set of dark eyes set in a strong male face.
“Can I help you?” He smiled at her, obviously pleased by the somewhat-improvement of his luck.
“Uh, No. Well – Okay. Thank you. Are you alright?”
She sat in the laneway as he extended his hand to help her up after picking himself off the ground. She grudgingly accepted, scolding herself mentally for even considering rebuffing an innocent courtesy. She helped him retrieve the few remaining intact items that had spilled from his grocery bags.
“I’m okay. I’ve had better nights.”
“I’m Alicia Crichton, of the Federation Starship Vonnegut.”
“I’m Eric Clapton. I own the farmers’ market back down the block. I was just bored & decided to stop-by to check on some new kids I hired this week. I’m glad I did. You seem to know something important about the statue.”
“They’re from my homeworld -- Earth.”
“We’ve all heard of Earth around here. But no one I’ve ever known personally has ever been there. You’ve got some interesting features...if you don’t mind me saying-so.”
“My relatives are from a planet called Trill. Its a few dozen light years from here.”
“I see. Welcome to Borealis. - - May I?” Eric offered his elbow as her gentleman-protector & she accepted it somewhat hesitantly.
“Thank You, Eric. What else can you tell me about Borealis?”
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Captain Martin quietly observed from the center seat until standard operating procedures had run their course. He sipped at his orange juice & nibbled on a buttery cinnamon-raisin bagel while the rest of the crew made sure they were still in one piece. Life-support, weapons, shields and propulsion were all at expected space-dock departure levels. Acting Science Chief Garlinski managed to lock onto the discarded warp core for future convenient scrutiny.
“Prepare for atmospheric entry & condition blue.” Lt. Commander Ferreira set planet-fall coordinates on the beach closest to Alicia’s registered accomodations.
“Aye. Dumping plasma from the nacelles. Ship’s offensive and defensive systems – now confirmed cold. Slowing to one hundred fifty kilometers per hour & adjusting inertial dampeners. Landing mechanisms are extended & locked. Our anti-gravity systems are adjusting for local gravity. I’m re-configuring our deflectors for atmospheric shear. Moving weapons pod to touchdown position.”
Kurt Grey Eagle could park a Sovereign-Class vessel on a compact car with room to spare. He couldn’t properly aim & shoot a phaser to save his life, or, stomach the phlebotomy part of his field medic course. But, Kurt was the best pilot Starfleet had to offer. He spent his spare time hang-gliding on the holodeck or making cheesy propositions to the nurses in sickbay & general services workers in Ten Forward. He could be found hanging out with a few of the guys in engineering & reciting centuries-old off-color jokes, when his swagger wasn’t annoying the living crap out of their sciences officer.
Upon the Vonnegut’s arrival, a security force escorted the ship through the planet’s atmosphere & guided them to their crew-person’s registered accommodation. A sensor sweep of the area found a complete lack of Trill life-signs.
“Where is she? What is she doing at this hour of the morning?” Commander Ferreira flushed with a mixture of diplomatic embarrassment and kinds of fear he couldn’t disclose just now. Alicia had been romantically involved him during their first four of six years at Starfleet Academy and Jason was the jealous type. Jason and Alicia hadn’t really made things official. She hadn’t met his parents, nor had he met hers’ but they usually suited the other person’s appetite and availability.
“Sir – begging the Commander’s pardon in advance. But, in a place this perfect, you have-to ask?”
“That’ll be enough of that, Miss Garlinski.”
“My apologies, Sir.”
“No offense taken but shall we try to keep things professional on the bridge from now on? Ten Forward is the exact kind of place for this kind of discussion, Miss Garlinsky.”
“Aye, Sir.” A slight smirk playing across her lips as the Captain returned to his duties.
Commander Ferreira continued to sweat buckets as this incident had occurred on his first opportunity to be like his Godfather. Most kids don’t have to worry about their parents’ relationships, but it’s a little different when they include Will Riker – formerly of the Enterprise-E. Jennifer continued to eliminate irrelevant civilian Trill life signs. Jason got up from the Executive Officers’ chair to assist the search from an auxiliary station.
Five minutes later, they’d narrowed things down to Alicia’s specific information in their medical database.
“Widen the sensor sweep to include the surrounding continents.”
“I’m all over it, Commander.” The readings came back almost instantly.
“Sir, may I have a word with you… alone?”
“What’s it about?”
“You’re not going to like this, Commander.”
“Out with it.”
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Eric & Alicia had a wonderful dinner together. His family residence had been built and decorated to resemble an a-frame ski chalet. She noticed the pictures of Eric’s family lined up on the wooden ledge above the hearth. He’d been divorced about two and a half years with a small daughter, Petra.
His ex-wife Chloe had moved out, become romantically involved with someone else and settled in another part of the community. His daughter sometimes came to work with him mid-week when the crowds thinned-out and he’d feed her bits of fruit he’d knick off for her with his pruning knife. She loved the pictures of her on his lap, probably taken by Chloe. The last one was of Eric and Petra in a rocking chair in front of their grocery store, giving out samples to prospective new customers.
Eric poured them drinks in the kitchen, meandered back into the living room and began asking about her. Alicia answered as best she could, considering she had to leave him here & beam back to her ship in a few days. She heavily considered coming back once her tour with Starfleet expired. They each realized they weren’t going to spend the night alone.
She continued to browse along the shelving unit of paraphernalia. Eric realized they’d lost track of the time. He decided that he’d tell her about the Earth vessel. She was deciding whether or not to offer her resignation to the Captain of the Vonnegut. She flipped open an antique communicator, as she turned toward her date, provocatively fingering the buttons & knobs.
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Captain Martin ordered Kurt to leave the Helm & take a shuttle to locate their Executive Officer. Ferreira requested permission to recall Alicia to the ship himself. Captain Martin just shrugged & told Kurt to go with him.
They took the turbolift down to deck seven and armed themselves in case they encountered problems. Kurt ran through preflight checks as Jason took Tactical position. An unnamed officer raised the hangar bay doors, reported no other aircraft in the area, & conveyed permission from the bridge to disembark.
The modified Flyer-Class shuttle Riyadh inched toward the rolling surf immediately visible outside the hangar deck’s atmospheric containment field. Kurt engaged thrusters as soon as the egg-shaped shuttlecraft cleared the door. It was early morning, so there were only a few surfers & beachcombers out at this hour. A few of them fell off their boards, rubbernecking to observe the odd-shaped ship bolting across their inlet.
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Alicia had somewhat startled him with her candor but didn’t stop her.
