The re-entry from the slipstream jump was a bit harsher than the expected norm, as the crackle and glow from the unstable core faded. The vessel was adrift, and ever so slowly turning sideways, as no control was maintained. Smoke emanated from the burnt out intake processors on the bussard ramscoops, whilst the normal blue glow along the nacelles was replaced with scorch marks and infrequent sparks within and without. Inside the Alpha Flyer the situation was even direr as the red alert strips flashed their crimson warning, bathing the dark interior and its unconscious occupants. Duco, Craig and Ken all sprawled haphazardly in an unconscious state, sporting various contusions, burns, and bruises. A proximity alarm suddenly shrieked its audible warning as the remaining operational consoles that displayed such information clearly showed that the flyer was about to collide with an equally adrift Starfleet vessel.
In the typical flash of light he appeared before the elders, attired in a flowery shirt, equally flowery shorts, and a pair of sandals. Adjusting his hat, he grasped the thick Cuban cigar and exhaled a few clouds of smoke, before removing it from his mouth and flicking the ash on to the floor of the council chamber. He wasn’t pleased at being interrupted in the middle of a Cuban Festival in full swing, and gazed at the elders with an expression and air of smugness and superiority. Whatever the reason for the leader and elders to summon him was, he expected it to be a justifiable one. The leader rose from his pedestal whilst the council elders arose from their chairs, which were arranged in such a way with the leader’s pedestal, they formed a crescent like shape. “Q. I summon you before the Continuum Council to atone for your actions. No more will you react irresponsibly with god like powers at your command to do what you want, when you want. How dare you sanction judgement upon races such as humans and the Calamarain, when you, the biggest hypocrite of all has no one to make you pay for your actions. Until now that is. You put humanity on trial, you constantly played tricks on the Calamarain, you toyed with the inhabitants of Kreetasa, and the straw that broke the camels back was your lack of responsibility with your trainee, Amanda Rogers.” Q looked puzzled, as he was well aware that he and Amanda had a falling out due to her discovery of the truth of her parent’s fate. But he was under the impression that she was forging her own path within the Continuum. He turned his attentions to his son, who needed much guidance should he be the continuing hope to forge a new future. The leader recognized Q’s puzzlement as a clear indication that he really had no idea what had become of his former protégé. “In her anger at our betrayal, she cut a swath of destruction across the galaxy. She thought it would be fun to briefly remove all aggression and the very essence of what it is to be Klingons, from the Klingons, which i managed to restore. She has relocated the Calamarain to the Andromeda Galaxy, which is a wrong we are still trying to correct. She automatically inverted the Nausicaans and Chalnoth to see, literally, if they have more guts than the Klingons.” Q chuckled to himself; “Good one Amanda!” One of the council members spoke to Q and the others that although they had been tempted to leave these two species as they were, in the name of universal balance, the issue needed correcting. Q had realized that she had become powerful in her own right, but at the same time had highly underestimated her potential. If anything, his oversight had appeared to cost the galaxy and the continuum no end of problems. “Her final act was with the destruction of the star, she committed suicide.” Q now wished that he had left her to carry out her normal human life aboard the Enterprise D. “As you know, this isn’t the first time a Q has committed suicide. No, it happened before with Quinn, and you had a hand in that too, which eventually caused a civil war, which you had a hand in too, which.....need i say more?” Throughout the summoning Q had said very little, and had mainly listened to the elders passing judgement. He was well aware that they could easily erase him and his whole family line from existence. It was time for taking stock and now with a son to think about, he felt it was time to take responsibility for his actions. After all, as a parent he had a care of duty to teach the correct life lessons to his son, so he would differentiate between right and wrong, realize that for every action there is a reaction, and that there are lines that must never be crossed, and if they are that one must take responsibility for one’s own actions. Here he was. Q. Taking responsibility for his own actions. If Picard and Janeway could see him now they would make the most of the opportunity to berate him for the rest of their natural lives. “I accept and await my punishment accordingly for my actions.” Even during the finality of a situation, Q managed to garner some fun out of the moment. As he looked upon the faces of the leader and the elders expressing shock at his humility, he took another couple of puffs of his cigar, and waited.
As the remaining crew had found to their distaste, the faux Phoenix gave the crew limited access to necessary systems. That much was certain, and that was the lookalike starship was streaking towards Earth at maximum warp. The senior officers, Captain Simon Hodgkinson, and Commander Andrew Davenport had barely sat down in their command chairs during the journey. When they weren’t stood facing the forward viewscreen, they would visit various stations and check in on their fellow officer’s wellbeing, or be checking out the ship and trying to glean any information they could from the alien technology that was the copycat vessel. Either way, they were not comfortable like the others sitting in their chairs for long. It was almost as if they had a subconscious fear that if they sat in the alien chair, it would suck out their life-force or force a symbiotic coupling upon them being seated. It was apparent at this point to the survivors that they really were surplus to the ships requirements, as most of the vessel seemed automated. However, Simon still felt comfortable that the crew should occupy certain key consoles as they would on any Starfleet vessel, just in case of any unforeseen events occurring and to cover any eventuality. Requesting, the company of the second officer and Chief Of Sciences, Simon headed into a carbon copy of his ready room, as Andrew and Sharon followed.
Counsellor Walker had remained in her quarters for the duration of the journey. Although she hadn’t visited sickbay for a check up, she pondered if she should request the Doctor to confine her to quarters until they arrived at Earth. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust herself. She was a well trained Counsellor, and thus could handle generally any kind of emotional distress or trauma. She just perceived herself at this time to be incapable of counselling anyone, and wanted to avoid any potentially awkward or explosive situations, should she deny a crew members request for a session. Losing Sodak the first time had been hard enough, but to lose him a second time, permanently, was difficult to bear at best. Yet she had noticed that he didn’t seem departed, which she put down to the fact that she was deep in the grieving process and subconsciously holding onto anything related to him or his existence. But the truth of the matter was he was aboard the escape pod that had failed to detach itself from the Phoenix and the impending supernova. The death throes of the star had been contained by Klix but the Phoenix exploded in a fireball of molten debris. Yet, there were moments where she felt that Sodak was practically in the same room. It was then that she was inexplicably overwhelmed by a blissful and soothing calm. Logical thoughts and guidance through her current grieving filled her mind, showing concepts she had never been aware of during all of her career as a Counsellor. Each thought she perceived, each image projected in her consciousness, and each instruction subliminally appearing belonged to one species; Vulcan. As she played the events of their last moments together once again in her mind, like she had done many times before, there had been one minor but important detail that she had overlooked. There was no doubt in Kirsty’s mind that Sodak must have known he was near death, and had transferred his katra, his living spirit, to her. It was now up to her to ensure that as keeper of the katra, she returned the spirit of Sodak back to his parents on Vulcan.
As a Doctor, for the first time in his life, Kurt felt hypocritical about his constant preaching about looking after yourself. He was a firm believer in the phrase of a healthy body equals a healthy mind. Yet here he was, climbing the stairs to the bridge that may have well been a mountain, considering the effort he was undertaking. In normal circumstances, he would have taken the turbolift, or if it was an emergency, a molecule scrambling intra ship, site to site transport. But then this was as far removed from normal circumstances as possible. There was no point him staying in sickbay as it was completely automated. He didn’t trust taking the turbolift at this time on a ship that wasn’t their own, and he definitely wasn’t about to take a chance on having his molecules scrambled, only to have reassembled in the wrong order in some bizarre location. As he finally entered the bridge, he temporarily propped himself against the wall to catch his breath whilst mopping his brow with a handkerchief. An Ensign at a nearby station turned to face him to see if she could assist, and then smiled. “Who heals the healer, eh doc?” Kurt managed a half grin in between getting his breath. “Indeed Ensign, indeed.” As Rez lay in sickbay, Kurt wondered if his recovering colleague would ask the same question.
The dry, arid planet of Parcha made Vulcan seem like a paradise. Of course to Vulcans, their homeworld was just that, a paradise, but to many offworlders it was far too hot and dry. Parcha was bone dry and had been as long as history had recorded it. Scientists from the various species of the Federation speculated that at one point it may have been a thriving planet flourishing with life, due to its orbit of the local sun. Parcha was too inhospitable to even construct a penal colony as the inhabitants sentenced there wouldn’t live out their punishment. For a Vulcan though, the planet was bearable for a while, but at some point even then, the constant high temperatures would eventually chip away at reserved logic and mental discipline. The hardiness of the escape pod was a testament to its designers as it had more than fulfilled its purpose on this occasion. The various readouts displayed information such as oxygen remaining, outside temperature, remaining fuel, and other essential updates. Sodak ascertained that as was typical with Starfleet standard escape pods, he had enough fuel to launch back into space. However, that was as far as it would extend as the remaining quantities following launch would be used to maintain thrusters control and the crafts equilibrium. Once that was exhausted, the pod would just drift, constantly emitting its beacon on all known frequencies. The recyclable power cells had a life of ten standard Federation years, therefore if the vehicle was grounded or adrift, it would support life by maintaining the temperature, the oxygen recyclers, and other essential systems. Parcha was firmly seated in Federation space, but had never amounted to anything more than a lifeless space body. Over a century ago, it had been considered as one of the test sites for Project Genesis, but had been narrowly defeated by the choice of Ceti Alpha VI. The lcars display indicated that it would be foolish to exit the pod for a few hours as the sun was at its highest point, causing the temperature to escalate to the peak of the day. Sodak surmised that he didn’t want to experience the boiling conditions a plomeek is subjected to as it is prepared for the soup. During those hours though, there would be plenty to occupy his time. He mentally surmised a list of duties that would help keep him focused until the burning temperatures dropped enough for him to safely venture outside the pod. His first task, which he had already commenced, was to access one of the display terminals and see if he could access information showing his location. Following that he would check ration supplies, the status of the spacesuits, and anything else that sprang to mind. As he managed to access star charts, the computer managed to extrapolate his escape trajectory from the Phoenix. The pods holding clamps had initially malfunctioned causing a failure to launch. As the Phoenix started to rupture with explosions, a lucky jolt had freed the pod, knocking Sodak out cold. Prior to the freeing of the pod, Sodak had accepted the finality of the situation and had prepared himself for his imminent demise by meditating, and focusing on his journey to the next life. The computer had chosen the nearest planet that was as close a match as possible to support the life of its occupant. However, the shockwave from the Phoenix’s final explosion had caused a navigational malfunction. Although it had landed on a planet that could sustain life, that life was only sustainable on the surface a few hours a day, and during the night when the temperature was at its coolest. Parcha made Rura Penthe seem a paradise in comparison. As Sodak extrapolated the data and managed to pinpoint his location, he immediately turned his attention to local shipping lanes, starship activity and space stations, and whether there was any localised Federation or Starfleet activity. The fates were smiling in his favour as he noticed that he wasn’t too far away from a lot of Starfleet activity. He would have enough fuel to launch the pod into orbit and get within range to issue a vocal emergency distress call in case the automated beacon was ignored or not within range. Before initiating the launch, he would have to examine the exterior of the pod to check no intakes were clogged, and that it was mechanically safe enough to launch. Once the temperature outside cooled he would initiate the checks. As he continued to monitor the activity on the display, he realised that it would be an opportunity to embrace on of Starfleet ethos; to explore. Whilst he was planet bound, he would do exactly that, take a few readings, and then prepare to leave. Then he noticed something strange on the monitor, as the Starfleet signatures seemed to disappear then reappear. “Fascinating.”
In the typical flash of light he appeared before the elders, attired in a flowery shirt, equally flowery shorts, and a pair of sandals. Adjusting his hat, he grasped the thick Cuban cigar and exhaled a few clouds of smoke, before removing it from his mouth and flicking the ash on to the floor of the council chamber. He wasn’t pleased at being interrupted in the middle of a Cuban Festival in full swing, and gazed at the elders with an expression and air of smugness and superiority. Whatever the reason for the leader and elders to summon him was, he expected it to be a justifiable one. The leader rose from his pedestal whilst the council elders arose from their chairs, which were arranged in such a way with the leader’s pedestal, they formed a crescent like shape. “Q. I summon you before the Continuum Council to atone for your actions. No more will you react irresponsibly with god like powers at your command to do what you want, when you want. How dare you sanction judgement upon races such as humans and the Calamarain, when you, the biggest hypocrite of all has no one to make you pay for your actions. Until now that is. You put humanity on trial, you constantly played tricks on the Calamarain, you toyed with the inhabitants of Kreetasa, and the straw that broke the camels back was your lack of responsibility with your trainee, Amanda Rogers.” Q looked puzzled, as he was well aware that he and Amanda had a falling out due to her discovery of the truth of her parent’s fate. But he was under the impression that she was forging her own path within the Continuum. He turned his attentions to his son, who needed much guidance should he be the continuing hope to forge a new future. The leader recognized Q’s puzzlement as a clear indication that he really had no idea what had become of his former protégé. “In her anger at our betrayal, she cut a swath of destruction across the galaxy. She thought it would be fun to briefly remove all aggression and the very essence of what it is to be Klingons, from the Klingons, which i managed to restore. She has relocated the Calamarain to the Andromeda Galaxy, which is a wrong we are still trying to correct. She automatically inverted the Nausicaans and Chalnoth to see, literally, if they have more guts than the Klingons.” Q chuckled to himself; “Good one Amanda!” One of the council members spoke to Q and the others that although they had been tempted to leave these two species as they were, in the name of universal balance, the issue needed correcting. Q had realized that she had become powerful in her own right, but at the same time had highly underestimated her potential. If anything, his oversight had appeared to cost the galaxy and the continuum no end of problems. “Her final act was with the destruction of the star, she committed suicide.” Q now wished that he had left her to carry out her normal human life aboard the Enterprise D. “As you know, this isn’t the first time a Q has committed suicide. No, it happened before with Quinn, and you had a hand in that too, which eventually caused a civil war, which you had a hand in too, which.....need i say more?” Throughout the summoning Q had said very little, and had mainly listened to the elders passing judgement. He was well aware that they could easily erase him and his whole family line from existence. It was time for taking stock and now with a son to think about, he felt it was time to take responsibility for his actions. After all, as a parent he had a care of duty to teach the correct life lessons to his son, so he would differentiate between right and wrong, realize that for every action there is a reaction, and that there are lines that must never be crossed, and if they are that one must take responsibility for one’s own actions. Here he was. Q. Taking responsibility for his own actions. If Picard and Janeway could see him now they would make the most of the opportunity to berate him for the rest of their natural lives. “I accept and await my punishment accordingly for my actions.” Even during the finality of a situation, Q managed to garner some fun out of the moment. As he looked upon the faces of the leader and the elders expressing shock at his humility, he took another couple of puffs of his cigar, and waited.
As the remaining crew had found to their distaste, the faux Phoenix gave the crew limited access to necessary systems. That much was certain, and that was the lookalike starship was streaking towards Earth at maximum warp. The senior officers, Captain Simon Hodgkinson, and Commander Andrew Davenport had barely sat down in their command chairs during the journey. When they weren’t stood facing the forward viewscreen, they would visit various stations and check in on their fellow officer’s wellbeing, or be checking out the ship and trying to glean any information they could from the alien technology that was the copycat vessel. Either way, they were not comfortable like the others sitting in their chairs for long. It was almost as if they had a subconscious fear that if they sat in the alien chair, it would suck out their life-force or force a symbiotic coupling upon them being seated. It was apparent at this point to the survivors that they really were surplus to the ships requirements, as most of the vessel seemed automated. However, Simon still felt comfortable that the crew should occupy certain key consoles as they would on any Starfleet vessel, just in case of any unforeseen events occurring and to cover any eventuality. Requesting, the company of the second officer and Chief Of Sciences, Simon headed into a carbon copy of his ready room, as Andrew and Sharon followed.
Counsellor Walker had remained in her quarters for the duration of the journey. Although she hadn’t visited sickbay for a check up, she pondered if she should request the Doctor to confine her to quarters until they arrived at Earth. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust herself. She was a well trained Counsellor, and thus could handle generally any kind of emotional distress or trauma. She just perceived herself at this time to be incapable of counselling anyone, and wanted to avoid any potentially awkward or explosive situations, should she deny a crew members request for a session. Losing Sodak the first time had been hard enough, but to lose him a second time, permanently, was difficult to bear at best. Yet she had noticed that he didn’t seem departed, which she put down to the fact that she was deep in the grieving process and subconsciously holding onto anything related to him or his existence. But the truth of the matter was he was aboard the escape pod that had failed to detach itself from the Phoenix and the impending supernova. The death throes of the star had been contained by Klix but the Phoenix exploded in a fireball of molten debris. Yet, there were moments where she felt that Sodak was practically in the same room. It was then that she was inexplicably overwhelmed by a blissful and soothing calm. Logical thoughts and guidance through her current grieving filled her mind, showing concepts she had never been aware of during all of her career as a Counsellor. Each thought she perceived, each image projected in her consciousness, and each instruction subliminally appearing belonged to one species; Vulcan. As she played the events of their last moments together once again in her mind, like she had done many times before, there had been one minor but important detail that she had overlooked. There was no doubt in Kirsty’s mind that Sodak must have known he was near death, and had transferred his katra, his living spirit, to her. It was now up to her to ensure that as keeper of the katra, she returned the spirit of Sodak back to his parents on Vulcan.
As a Doctor, for the first time in his life, Kurt felt hypocritical about his constant preaching about looking after yourself. He was a firm believer in the phrase of a healthy body equals a healthy mind. Yet here he was, climbing the stairs to the bridge that may have well been a mountain, considering the effort he was undertaking. In normal circumstances, he would have taken the turbolift, or if it was an emergency, a molecule scrambling intra ship, site to site transport. But then this was as far removed from normal circumstances as possible. There was no point him staying in sickbay as it was completely automated. He didn’t trust taking the turbolift at this time on a ship that wasn’t their own, and he definitely wasn’t about to take a chance on having his molecules scrambled, only to have reassembled in the wrong order in some bizarre location. As he finally entered the bridge, he temporarily propped himself against the wall to catch his breath whilst mopping his brow with a handkerchief. An Ensign at a nearby station turned to face him to see if she could assist, and then smiled. “Who heals the healer, eh doc?” Kurt managed a half grin in between getting his breath. “Indeed Ensign, indeed.” As Rez lay in sickbay, Kurt wondered if his recovering colleague would ask the same question.
The dry, arid planet of Parcha made Vulcan seem like a paradise. Of course to Vulcans, their homeworld was just that, a paradise, but to many offworlders it was far too hot and dry. Parcha was bone dry and had been as long as history had recorded it. Scientists from the various species of the Federation speculated that at one point it may have been a thriving planet flourishing with life, due to its orbit of the local sun. Parcha was too inhospitable to even construct a penal colony as the inhabitants sentenced there wouldn’t live out their punishment. For a Vulcan though, the planet was bearable for a while, but at some point even then, the constant high temperatures would eventually chip away at reserved logic and mental discipline. The hardiness of the escape pod was a testament to its designers as it had more than fulfilled its purpose on this occasion. The various readouts displayed information such as oxygen remaining, outside temperature, remaining fuel, and other essential updates. Sodak ascertained that as was typical with Starfleet standard escape pods, he had enough fuel to launch back into space. However, that was as far as it would extend as the remaining quantities following launch would be used to maintain thrusters control and the crafts equilibrium. Once that was exhausted, the pod would just drift, constantly emitting its beacon on all known frequencies. The recyclable power cells had a life of ten standard Federation years, therefore if the vehicle was grounded or adrift, it would support life by maintaining the temperature, the oxygen recyclers, and other essential systems. Parcha was firmly seated in Federation space, but had never amounted to anything more than a lifeless space body. Over a century ago, it had been considered as one of the test sites for Project Genesis, but had been narrowly defeated by the choice of Ceti Alpha VI. The lcars display indicated that it would be foolish to exit the pod for a few hours as the sun was at its highest point, causing the temperature to escalate to the peak of the day. Sodak surmised that he didn’t want to experience the boiling conditions a plomeek is subjected to as it is prepared for the soup. During those hours though, there would be plenty to occupy his time. He mentally surmised a list of duties that would help keep him focused until the burning temperatures dropped enough for him to safely venture outside the pod. His first task, which he had already commenced, was to access one of the display terminals and see if he could access information showing his location. Following that he would check ration supplies, the status of the spacesuits, and anything else that sprang to mind. As he managed to access star charts, the computer managed to extrapolate his escape trajectory from the Phoenix. The pods holding clamps had initially malfunctioned causing a failure to launch. As the Phoenix started to rupture with explosions, a lucky jolt had freed the pod, knocking Sodak out cold. Prior to the freeing of the pod, Sodak had accepted the finality of the situation and had prepared himself for his imminent demise by meditating, and focusing on his journey to the next life. The computer had chosen the nearest planet that was as close a match as possible to support the life of its occupant. However, the shockwave from the Phoenix’s final explosion had caused a navigational malfunction. Although it had landed on a planet that could sustain life, that life was only sustainable on the surface a few hours a day, and during the night when the temperature was at its coolest. Parcha made Rura Penthe seem a paradise in comparison. As Sodak extrapolated the data and managed to pinpoint his location, he immediately turned his attention to local shipping lanes, starship activity and space stations, and whether there was any localised Federation or Starfleet activity. The fates were smiling in his favour as he noticed that he wasn’t too far away from a lot of Starfleet activity. He would have enough fuel to launch the pod into orbit and get within range to issue a vocal emergency distress call in case the automated beacon was ignored or not within range. Before initiating the launch, he would have to examine the exterior of the pod to check no intakes were clogged, and that it was mechanically safe enough to launch. Once the temperature outside cooled he would initiate the checks. As he continued to monitor the activity on the display, he realised that it would be an opportunity to embrace on of Starfleet ethos; to explore. Whilst he was planet bound, he would do exactly that, take a few readings, and then prepare to leave. Then he noticed something strange on the monitor, as the Starfleet signatures seemed to disappear then reappear. “Fascinating.”
