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The Star Eagle Adventures: QD2 - State of Entanglement

I have to admit, I was caught by surprise. I had no idea DeMara was speaking to Michael’s double until the end of the chapter. Wow.

But now she’s been taken hostage and I fear it won’t end well. Yikes.

I’m a bit confused about how evil Michael pulled off the switch, however. I would have thought he would be too closely watched to engineer any deceptions. On the other hand, evil Michael is at the very least as resourceful as his counterpart.

Fun stuff! Keep me on the gravy train!
 
30


“I have to admit,” Garla said, “it’s been some time since I’ve had such a satisfying meal.” She placed her utensils onto her recently cleared plate before she reached for her beverage. “My sincerest compliments to the chef.”

Sentinel Culsten nodded with a smile. “One of my most noteworthy contributions to the Yellow Rose’s crew complement was investing into bringing onboard the best cook in the fleet. Considering the resulting uplift in morale, it seems to have paid off.”

“It most certainly has,” she said. Although quite a few things had been more than troublesome over the last few days, the meal Garla had shared with the Sentinel, Lif, and Chief Justicar Tenn, in the sentinel’s quarters and at his behest, had not been one of them. The whirlwind of recent events had not given her much of a chance to try and relax over a good meal, and, in fact, even back on Piqus, while overseeing first the construction of two hidden asteroid bases and then the production of the powerful Omega molecule and all the various complications that had arisen from that undertaking had not given her much time for the finer things in life.

She glanced over to where Lif was sitting and while he too had finished his meal, he looked far less pleased with their indulgence, no doubt still far too concerned with the issues at hand, including the rumors he had uncovered relating to his counterpart.

As for Garla, it had become very clear that Sentinel Culsten was a very different kind of person than Lif, certainly his ambitions were significantly greater. But the man appeared passionate about the Star Alliance, much like she was, and while his methods and perhaps even his designs were circumspect, she was very well aware that the same could have been said about her just a week prior.

She had accepted his invitation to his quarters to share a lavish meal as she had often found that the best way to truly understand a person was to observe them when they were at their most relaxed and fully at ease. That’s when people more often than not let their guard down and allowed for a glimpse into their truest self.

“What’s the status of the repairs?” Lif asked the Kridrip second in command of the Yellow Rose.

“This is not the time to talk business,” the sentinel said with a good-natured smile. “I invited you here tonight so that you may take your minds off all your troubles even if just for a short time. I promise you; they’ll all still be waiting for us after we’ve had dessert.”

But the chief justiciar shook his head as he wiped his mouth with a napkin after having finished his own meal. “I don’t mind at all,” he said quickly. “And news pertaining to our operational status is actually positive for a change. Partially to your efforts, our engineering team is putting our capability at nearly eight-five percent. Which is fortunate considering—“ he stopped himself as he realized he had misspoken.

Lif regarded him with a quizzical look. “Considering what?”

Instead of responding, Tenn made eye contact with the Sentinel.

Culsten simply nodded. “It’s quite all right. There is no need to keep secrets from our new friends,” he said with that smile. “Besides, I had already planned on sharing our new orders after dinner.”

“New orders?” Garla said.

He nodded. “We’ve only received them a few hours ago. We have been rerouted to rendezvous with another task force in the sector. It appears Alliance Central is concerned about increased Federation activity in the area. Long-range sensors have shown multiple Starfleet ships from both factions having entered the Amargosa Diaspora. They are not sure why they have decided to bring their civil war all the way out here, so far away from their core worlds, but they are concerned that it could spill into our territory,” he said and considered his double quite carefully as he spoke.

Lif shook his head. “I don’t know anything about this civil war. It does not exist in our universe.”

Culsten nodded. “That’s my understanding. However, your ship and crew might very well be involved.”

To that, he emphatically shook his head. “Captain Owens will do whatever is in his power to try and stay out of matters pertaining strictly to this universe.”

“Unless, of course, it would help him in his mission to return his people to where they belong,” the sentinel said with a little smirk.

To that Lif had no answer.

“To be honest, I would hardly blame him for doing whatever he had to in order to return to your universe. From everything I’ve heard, it is a much better place for the Federation than this reality,” he said and then found Garla’s eyes. “I am not certain the same can be said for the Star Alliance.”

Garla understood what he was playing at. He had not yet given up on trying to convince her to stay here with him. If everything Lif suspected was true about him, she couldn’t help wonder how far he’d go to ensure she remained.

“Now, how about that dessert I promised?” he said as his grin widened.

Garla waved him off. “Not for me, thanks, I’m stuffed.”

“And I should return to my duties. Repairs are progressing well, but we must be certain that we are in top shape in case we do run into Starfleet,” Tenn said.

Lif also shook his head, indicating that he was not interested in eating more.

“Quite a shame, I’ve been told it is the most electable tallaberry pudding this side of Krellon Prime,” he said and shrugged. “Oh well, another time.” He activated a control on the table they were sitting at and a moment later the doors opened to allow four low-ranking crewmembers to enter his quarters to swiftly clear the large table.

Garla noticed not for the first time that the wait staff was made up of various races including Krellonians. She was still getting used to the idea that here, Outlanders and her people worked side-by-side like equals even when it came to menial tasks.

Within less than a couple of minutes, the table was cleared and the dinner guests were once again alone.

“I have to admit, I am slightly concerned with these new orders,” said Garla as she considered the Sentinel. “We still have many wounded who will require medical treatment we cannot provide on this ship. Not to mention the status of our escort ships.”

Culsten leaned back and regarded her with a growing smile which left her slightly befuddled. “I apologize, I am merely realizing once more how much you remind me of the Garla I knew, the one who was my mentor for so many years. She too was so very concerned about the well-being of her people.”

“Are you saying that you are not?” she said.

“Of course, I am. In fact, I made sure to advise Alliance Central that our escort ships must return to base for repairs and to see to our wounded before I would consider accepting any new orders. ‘Take care of those who serve you and they’ll take care of you.’ I learned that from her.”

She nodded slowly. It wasn’t a saying she recalled ever having uttered but it certainly made a great deal of sense to her.

He stood from his chair. “Now that you’ve all turned me down on what would have been a most exquisite treat, I must insist that you join me for a drink,” he said as he walked over to a cabinet to retrieve a bottle.

Tenn stood also. “I wish I could, Sentinel, but as I said, pressing matters still require my attention.” He briefly made eye contact with Lif and Garla before regarding Culsten. “Sentinel, accept my gratitude for this invitation and this most splendid meal,” he said and then, without waiting for any further response, quickly left the quarters.

If Culsten was irritated by his hasty departure, Garla couldn’t see it.

“And I am simply too tired to be pleasant company at this hour,” said Lif after leaving his chair as well. “If you’ll excuse me.” He offered Garla a pointed look which made it quite clear that he wanted her to come along.

“I fully understand,” Culsten said as he returned with the bottle.

Garla stood as well.

“I hope you at least, will do me the honor to share just one drink before you depart,” he said, looking straight at her. “Besides, I would love the opportunity to continue our earlier conversation.”

Lif didn’t seem to like the idea but Garla couldn’t deny that she still remained curious to find out more about this version of Lif Culsten. She offered her nephew a quick look. “Go ahead, Lif, we’ll talk later.”

He hesitated for a moment, not pleased about leaving her behind but then relented. “Thank you for the meal, Sentinel.”

“We are practically the same person, you and me. Call me Liftu,” he said, still wearing that wide smile that had seemingly been plastered on his face all evening.

He nodded. “Of course,” he said but stopped short of calling him by his own name. “Have a good night,” he added and then left.

Culsten looked after him even after the doors had already closed behind him. “A very serious young man, isn’t he?”

“He wasn’t always like this,” she said, recalling her nephew’s carefree attitude of his youth. “But he’s been through a lot over the last few days. I cannot blame him for how he feels after everything he’s seen.”

Culsten poured her a drink, a very rare fermented juice hailing from the highlands on Yooktku, she noted. In her universe, it was a beverage so expansive that even she could not afford to partake of it regularly. “I’d love to hear all about it at some point,” he said and poured himself a glass as well.

“I assume with these new orders your plans for the Nyberrites in the sector are taking a temporary setback,” she said without reaching for her beverage.

He was much less shy about imbibing, however, and took a sip. “For now, yes. But I most certainly haven’t given up my on pursuing the matter,” he said. “Or on you.”

“You still wish for me to join you?”

He walked over to a comfortable seating area away from the dinner table and bid her to join him.

She picked up her glass and followed.

The large windows there allowed for a majestic view of the space directly ahead of the ship.

He took a seat and indicated for her to use the one opposite which she did. “Absolutely. It seems fate has brought us together, no?”

“How do you figure?”

He took another sip, clearly enjoying the taste of the expensive drink. “Consider that I lost my Garla in a senseless accident just before we could truly combine our strengths to bring about real change for the Star Alliance. And then, of course, there is you, coming from a very different place where, from what you’ve told me, the Star Alliance is a sad reflection of what it is here, and what it could have been. To be honest, it almost sounds as if its decline and perhaps even its demise are inevitable.”

She couldn’t disagree with the sentiment even if it pained her a great deal to hear it out loud.

“I am not sure if I share your ambitions,” she said.

He nodded slowly and then nodded toward the still full glass in her hand. “You haven’t touched your nectar.”

She looked right into his eyes for a brief moment and then placed the glass on the small table between them. “To be honest, it isn’t quite my kind of drink.”

He nodded slowly, still smiling. “It is amazing how much the two of you are alike. She never much cared for it, either.”

“I take it you are aware of the rumors,” she said, considering him carefully.

“Rumors?”

She responded with her own smile, one which she knew didn’t reach her eyes. “Please, you wouldn’t be much of a Sentinel if you didn’t know what people say about you behind your back. What they believe you did.”

He shrugged. “People are entitled to their opinions. Even if they are inaccurate.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“I have more important matters to concern myself with,” he said and took another sip. “You should try it. It truly is worth every last credit.”

“Such as conquering the entire galaxy?”

He uttered a short laugh. “That sounds dramatic.”

“Some people would say irrational.”

“A few hundred years ago, before we became the empire we are now, some people thought it was irrational to believe Krellonians could ever work side-by-side with other races. Perhaps, in your universe, people believe this to this day. And look at us now.”

“So, you envision this great Star Alliance to be an empire of equals?” she said and then shook her head. “Even the Federation understood that not everyone wants to join their cause.”

“Some will join, others will come to realize that there is no other choice,” he said.

She nodded slowly. “I see.”

He laughed suddenly causing her to shoot him an empty look.

“I’m sorry, it just feels so much like we’re treading old ground here. I must have lost count of the times I’ve had this conversation with you.”

“Not me,” she said.

He nodded. “No, not exactly with you. I don’t know why I thought you would be different when you are so similar to her in every other way,” he said and finished his drink. “Especially considering that my counterpart appears to be nothing like me at all.”

Garla watched him carefully as he leaned forward to reach for the glass she had discarded and then emptied it in one big gulp.

“It tends to spoil rather quickly if left in the open,” he said and placed the empty glass next to the other one. “What?” he said when he noticed her hard stare. “Did you think I was trying to poison you with this?”

“The thought had occurred to me.”

He uttered another laugh. “You have no idea how disappointed I am that you cannot imagine the things I can see for the future of the Star Alliance. You, like her, could have contributed so much to that cause. I recognize that same dedication and intensity in your eyes. You have that same ability to motivate people and convince them of the righteousness of your ways. Together we could have easily marshaled more than enough support within the Eye, the Navy, and Alliance Central to commit the Star Alliance to a course of true greatness.”

He stood suddenly but when Garla tried to mirror his move she felt her body fail to respond to her commands.

He walked over to the far corner of his room to an ornate desk. “I suppose I should have known that you were not up to the task,” he said as he opened a drawer to retrieve something.

Garla was beginning to feel a rather unfamiliar sensation and she was now berating herself for having been so careless in the first place. It was not very often that she experienced true panic but then again, she was not used to feeling this helpless.

“See, my Garla would have realized much sooner that I would never attempt something as gauche as poisoning her drink. She would have known that it would be the nanites in her food that she needed to worry about,” he said, turning around and holding a large dagger in his hand. “I am well aware that people don’t believe I am a worthy sentinel but let me ask you this,” he added as he began to slowly approach the immobilized Garla. “What kind of sentinel would fall into a trap designed by her own apprentice? And for that matter, who wouldn’t want to follow a man cunning enough to not just dispatch one sentinel but two of them?”
 
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31


With Altee in possession of both the Prism and his father, as well as the knowledge of the exact position of the Ring, not to mention access to a small fleet of starships, Michael understood that their priorities were no longer just trying to find a way back home and stopping the supercollider from annihilating another universe, he would have to go through Altee to do this and at the same time prevent him from gaining access to the megastructure for his own nefarious purposes.

He’d need all the help he could get in order to go up against Altee and for now, the only resources he had available to him were Amaya Donners and his counterpart from this universe, two archenemies with their own agendas who were far more likely to be at each other's throats rather than work together towards a common goal.

Considering the stakes, he knew he had precious few alternatives and that he simply had to make things work with what he had.

After his rather violent first encounter with the Amaya from this universe, he had been somewhat surprised to realize that it was likely going to be his counterpart who would be the more difficult individual to work with. His single-minded obsession to go after the person who had been responsible for his brother’s killer seemed to guide his every waking thought and on occasion even override all reason, this much had been evident after he had tried to strangle his Tazla Star the moment he had laid eyes upon her.

But Michael had to believe that there was still some kernel of rational thought in the man, something that he could appeal to make him see the significance of their mission. He refused to believe that this man, who looked and sounded just like him, didn’t also share some of his other qualities, no matter how deeply buried underneath anger and hatred. He fully understood and appreciated that the Michael Owens of this universe was his own person, had been exposed to a much darker and more cruel universe, had been surrounded by other people, and had made very different decisions along the way, but Michael liked to believe that not every quality that made him who he was today could be attributed solely to nurture. Some had to be part of his inherent nature and therefore had to be present in the other Michael as well.

It was a fool’s hope perhaps, but at this point, he had to take whatever the universe was willing to give him.

And he needed these two starship captains to work together, with him, to stop Altee, the Ring, and to ultimately take his crew back home.

The only way he knew how to achieve this was to try, once more, to bring them all into one place and to appeal, if not to logic then at least to their sense of self-preservation.

This time he had made sure to keep Tazla Star well away from anywhere she could come across his doppelganger.

As Michael stepped into the observation lounge, however, he found that his counterpart had not yet arrived and instead he found only Amaya Donners there waiting for him.

She had taken the liberty of replicating a flute of what looked like champagne and quite eagerly sipped from the glass as he stepped inside. “I had almost forgotten what this stuff used to taste like,” she said as she held up the now half-empty flute to consider the sparkling wine bubbling inside. “It’s been some time since we had the power to spare to use our replicators for fine food or drink.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said as he approached her.

“I seem to remember that I was always quite fond of the real thing and that I always bemoaned the fact that the replicated stuff just didn’t quite do it justice. That it never quite got that saline quality of a good Blanc de Blancs right,” she said and then looked at him. “And you know what I’ve come to realize now, after years of not having tasted anything remotely as good?”

He offered her a quizzical look.

“I don’t care,” she said and then emptied the glass in one large gulp before placing it on the table and offering him a large grin borne out of satisfaction.

He picked up the empty flute and headed back to the replicator. “In that case, can I offer you another?” he said. He wanted her clear-headed for what was coming next, but thankfully alcoholic beverages produced by the replicator on Eagle were made of synthehol which did a reasonably good job at approximating the taste without affecting the blood ethanol concentration of the person consuming it.

She shook her head. “Better not get used to it. I’ll have no opportunity to taste such luxuries again once I leave here.”

He returned the empty flute into the replicator alcove and activated the right panels to cause it to be recycled back into energy before he turned to face her again. “Perhaps Captain Owens would enjoy a drink. The man strikes me like the kind of person who likes to indulges himself on occasion.”

“More than just occasionally. From what I hear, it has gotten worse since his brother was killed.”

“I see.”

“I was there, you now? When he died. It was my job to keep him safe.”

Michael nodded slowly. “I suppose that explains why he resents you?”

She shook her head. “No, that goes back far longer than that. We had some personal issues back at the Academy. That’s what ended our friendship. And then we had different ideas on how to go on after the Borg. He and his cronies were convinced that we shouldn’t poke the bear, that we should consider ourselves lucky with what we had left. I and many others disagreed and were looking to rebuild the Federation no matter the cost.”

“And that led to civil war?”

She nodded as she allowed her glance to wander towards the large observation windows. “I think in the end we did more damage to each other than we could ever have done if he had worked together from the start.”

Michael took a step closer. “Then why not try again? One of the Federation’s core values has always been cooperation. Infighting is anathema to what it was ever supposed to be.”

“It’s far too late for that now,” she said, refusing to turn and look at him. “Bridges have been crossed and then razed to the ground. There’s no more coming back from this,” she said and shook her head. “No, this will end with only one of us left standing. And whoever that may be, I doubt they’ll have much of a future in this galaxy. The ideal that once was the Federation has long since died.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

She finally made eye contact with him. “Idealism,” she said. “That’s another thing I haven’t come across in quite some time. Reminds me of what we used to be.”

He uttered a sigh. It was clear that he wouldn’t be able to get through to her. And even if he did, what were the chances that he could change the course of an entire galaxy now seemingly destined to destroy itself from the inside?

“That’s why this little plan of yours will not work,” she said. “Michael Owens, the man I know as such, will not be swayed by your idealistic rhetoric. At least I can still grasp the sense of what you have to say, if for no other reason than to ensure our continued survival. But mark my words. Your counterpart is too far gone to ever see that.”

Just as Michael wanted to counter her point, he spotted something behind her that seemed to support everything she had just said. The other Eagle was starting to move away from them. “Bridge to Owens. Status report.”

Leva came on the line. “The other Eagle has just changed course, sir.”

Amaya’s expression didn’t hide what she was thinking: I told you so.

“Damn it,” he said and turned to leave the observation lounge, the other captain following him.

It took them a very short turbolift ride to get to the bridge one deck above and he could already see the familiar aft section of the other Nebula-class ship on the viewscreen as she was maneuvering away. “Hail them.”

Leva acknowledged the order.

His counterpart appeared on the screen. Michael thought he looked somewhat disheveled as if he had gotten in yet another fight recently.

“Captain, what are you doing?”

“I changed my mind. I am sure your mission is important but I have a lead on Tazla Star I cannot afford to ignore. And since you’re refusing to help me with my mission, I have no choice but to go at it alone.”

Michael made sure to keep his temper in check but it was no easy task. Ultimately, he realized that there was little point in getting angry at himself. “We’ve talked about this. I’ll use my ship and resources to assist you in bringing her to justice but not until our mission is complete. A mission, I would point out, which could very well determine the future of your entire universe.”

“Spare me the talk about saving the galaxy. You may not have noticed since you seem to be coming from such a marvelous place, but around here, there isn’t all that much left to save.”

Michael glanced towards Amaya at his side and was quickly reminded of her warning not to try and reason with the other Owens. He focused back on the viewscreen. “Listen to me, Captain. I understand the pain you’ve felt about losing your brother because I’ve known it all too well. And I would be lying if I didn’t say that it didn’t still gnaw on me every single day. But you must know that killing Star won’t bring him back. That it won’t give you the release you so desperately seem to seek.”

For a moment the other man seemed to appear almost contemplative and Michael thought that perhaps there was a chance to get through to him after all. Then his eyes hardened. “We are not the same, you and I. Trust me, I wish I shared some of your qualities but the truth is that besides the superficial similarities, we might as well be entirely different people. And I know for a fact that you consider me to be the lesser man.”

“That is not the case,” he said emphatically.

“Oh, please, it’s as obvious as the stars. And the truth is, for somebody like me, Captain, there isn’t much left other than vengeance. And nobody in this galaxy will deny me of it. Least of which a man who looks and sounds just like me.”

Before Michael could protest any further, the connection was cut on the other end and his face vanished from the screen. Not a second later, Eagle jumped to warp.

“Lieutenant Stanmore, keep a sensor lock on that ship. Ensign Srena, set a pursuit course—“ he stopped when he felt a hand around his upper arm and saw that it belonged to Amaya.

“What’s the point? Let him go.”

He turned back to the screen, now showing little more than empty space. He noticed his two officers at their stations regarding him with expectant looks as they awaited confirmation of their orders.

Michael knew she was right. What was the alternative, really? Hunt him down and force him to cooperate? It would waste valuable time they didn’t have and, in the end, achieve little but weaken them all further. “Belay that and keep our original heading,” he finally said.

Stanmore and Srena nodded and turned back to their stations.

Michael regarded Amaya. “I suppose it’s just us then.”

“I’ll try to rein in my disappointment.”

“Let’s discuss strategy,” he said and indicated towards his ready room.

She nodded. “That sounds like fun,” she said and headed towards the doors with him following behind her.

However, she stopped suddenly as soon as those doors had parted, her face showing a bemused little smile. “I have to say, Captain, you are far more of a slob than I would have given you credit for. “

He considered her with irritation for a moment and then glanced past her and into his ready room, finding it in a complete mess, with almost everything meant to be on the top of his desk now littering the floor among a couple of upturned chairs. “What the hell happened here?”
 
Wow, is this really it for Garla? I started off detesting her, but then she began growing on me as an antihero. If she is about to buy the farm, I’m gonna miss her.

Michael is left, as usual, with few good choices. It’s obvious that a rousing speech isn’t going to bring his counterpart around. AU Donners is hardly an ideal partner but somehow he’ll have to make it work.

Wonderfully complex stuff!
 
32


He hadn’t really felt comfortable at all during the entirety of the meal his counterpart had arranged for him, Garla and Tenn, probably because it had been rather obvious that Sentinel Culsten’s main interest had been Garla rather than his other two guests.

He had quickly jumped at the chance to get out of the man’s quarters once the opportunity had presented itself and was somewhat disappointed that Garla had chosen to stay behind.

Lif was getting increasingly worried that Garla would succumb to his offer of staying behind in this universe to work with him. Perhaps, he wondered, it was because he seemed as calculating and ambitious as she had been when she had made a deal with the subspace aliens. He had held out hope that she had learned from her mistakes but now he was starting to think that perhaps she hadn’t.

He knew that Garla had invested significant amounts of resources, time, and perhaps even emotion into her failed plan to remake the Star Alliance into a truly prosperous empire and while in hindsight her vision of what she had called a stand-alone society had been misguided, her passion to create a better society for Krellonians and Outlanders alike had been genuine. It was clear that she was trying desperately to find a way to redeem herself after her failure and that perhaps she was convinced that she could make a real difference in this universe instead.

The thought had troubled him so much that although he hadn’t been able to wait to get out of the sentinel’s quarters earlier, he found himself back in front of his doors just a minutes after he had left.

He wasn’t sure what exactly had prompted him to walk back into the quarters uninvited, not even bothering to use the annunciator.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find but his counterpart hovering over Garla while brandishing a dagger had certainly not been on the shortlist.

The sentinel turned to look at him, a deep frown etched into his features giving evidence to his annoyance of being interrupted. Lif couldn’t help wonder if it wasn’t more than that. It had not been difficult to sense that his counterpart did not think much of him, perhaps because he considered him weak for having chosen to align himself with the Federation in his universe, or perhaps because he felt that his existence challenged his position or his sense of his sui generis nature in the universe.

Garla for her part didn’t seem able to move. Her body twitched slightly, as if she had registered somebody having entered the quarters, but it appeared impossible for her to turn and look at who had joined them.

“Well, isn’t that convenient?” said the sentinel as he took a step toward Lif, casually raising the dagger. “You just saved me the trouble of having to find and dispose of you as well.”

Lif’s fight or flight instincts told him to run but he fought against them as best as he could. There seemed little doubt that the other him, trained as a sentinel, would be a far better fighter than he had ever been. But he also knew that if he left now, even if he managed to escape unharmed, Garla’s fate was likely sealed.

“You wouldn’t be the first version of myself I had to fight this week,” he said with faked bravado as he mirrored his counterpart’s move. “Guess which version is still standing?”

He knew he was stretching the truth pretty hard. Sure, he had been forced into a nasty hand-to-hand battle with his alter ego in the last universe they had visited. But his demise had not come at his hands and in fact, the Culsten from that reality had very nearly gotten the better of him if it hadn’t been for the timely intervention of an anti-grav boots equipped Niner. He knew there was no chance a rescue team would come swooping in this time.

The proud boast had the intended effect, however, and Sentinel Culsten was momentarily confused by the statement. Lif used this to his advantage. He rushed the other man and tackled him to the floor before he was able to wield the dagger.

He remembered Nora’s combat training for facing an armed opponent and tried to go for his weapon, attempting to disarm him quickly but his counterpart clearly was equally aware of this tactic and drew the dagger back before Lif could reach it.

With the blade out of reach for the moment, Lif knew he had to press his advantage any way he could and began to punch him hard in the face, until his knuckles began to hurt, desperately trying to ignore that it was his own face he was pummeling.

Culsten took the hits in stride and before Lif could deliver a fourth blow, the other man intercepted his arm, and then using his superior strength and agility, lifted him off of him with his legs and knees only to use the momentum he had created to flip him clean across the room and causing him to crash into the very chair he had been sitting at earlier during dinner.

“Perhaps I have underestimated you,” the sentinel said as he spat blood and slowly pulled himself back onto his feet. “Considering how easily I disabled your friend, supposedly a sentinel in her universe, it seems I should have taken care of you first.”

Although it was well-known that Krellonian bones were particularly dense and less likely to bruise or break than those of humans, for example, Lif still felt as if his ribs were on fire. The pain kept him too dazed to move as he watched on helplessly as the sentinel approached, once more bringing up his blade.

“Why are you doing this?” he said, now desperate to buy himself some time.

“Honestly? I didn’t want any of this. When I first saw Garla on your bridge, I thought perhaps this was going to be a second chance for all of us. A second chance to claim the glory the Star Alliance so rightly deserves.”

Using the chair next to him, Lif pulled himself back onto his feet as well, doing his best to ignore the stinging pain he felt all over. “You mean conquering the galaxy?”

He shrugged. “Somebody has to bring order to the chaos.”

“You know, in my universe, there was a group of people who shared those exact same ideas. Determined to expand their dominion over both the Alpha and Beta quadrants. It didn’t work out for them either,” he said, grabbed a wine bottle from the table, and swung it hard towards the sentinel.

Culsten saw it coming and defensively raised an arm which caused the bottle to smash to pieces before it could hit anything vital.

But Lif simply swung again, this time with the destroyed bottle, its sharp edges ripping through clothing and flesh.

Culsten winced from the pain but didn’t let that stop him from striking back with a quick succession of strikes, the first one against Lif’s face, dazzling him momentarily, the next one aimed at his bottle-wielding hand, causing him to drop his makeshift weapon. The third strike hit him right in the solar plexus and forced him to double over in pain.

Culsten grabbed Lif by the hair to pull him back up and then threw him back against the table behind him and pressed the razor-sharp dagger to his throat.

Lif could feel the cold blade against his skin, very much aware that it wouldn’t take much to cut him wide open. Most of his weight was pushing against the glass table behind him and he could start feeling it giving way slowly.

But the Sentinel was hesitating as he considered the other man up close.

“Not easy killing somebody with your own face, is it?” said Lif through carefully labored breaths and clenched teeth, trying to suppress his pain as best as he could. “Much less complicated when it is just you mentor.”

“I didn’t want to kill her. But she lacked vision. If it had been left up to her, the Star Alliance would have shriveled up and died, becoming an easy target for the Nyberrites.”

“So you killed her to preserve the Alliance?”

“Precisely.”

Lif grabbed him around his neck and slowly pulled himself up and closer to his face, even if in doing so, the blade was beginning to painfully cut into the skin of his vulnerable throat. “Then what is your excuse for trying to kill her now?”

He had no immediate answer but Lif hadn’t expected one. Instead, he threw himself hard against the table behind him, slipping out of the sentinel’s grasp and the blade at his throat and smashing the table in the process.

Even before he had landed among the broken shards of the table, he kicked at the sentinel’s knee as hard as he could, causing the other man to lose his balance, and then with strength fueled purely by adrenaline, he pushed himself back up, lowered his shoulder and rammed it into his midsection at full speed.

Both men tumbled backward, halfway through his quarters, and then went flying over the sofa on which Garla had been sitting, spilling all three of them onto the floor.

The sentinel recovered first and got back onto his feet while Lif was still on his hands and knees. “You are really starting to become a nuisance,” he said and kicked him hard into his already sore ribs, flipping him onto his back.

As Lif turned his head slightly, he could see the glint of the dagger that had slipped just underneath the sofa they had stumbled over.

Culsten saw the weapon at the same time and both men lunged for it.

Lif was in the better position to grab it first, but the Sentinel was faster.

Moments before his counterpart would have reached the hilt, however, his forward movement was suddenly arrested and it took Lif a moment to realize that it was thanks to Garla. She had regained some of her mobility and just enough to grab him by the ankle.

Determined to take full advantage of the situation, Lif retrieved the dagger.

By the time he had a firm grip on it and pushed himself back onto his feet, the sentinel was driving the heel of his boot hard into Garla’s face, forcing her to let go of him.

The sudden momentum, however, caused the sentinel to stumble forward at the same time as Culsten was bringing up the dagger and bracing himself for another round with his counterpart.

Sentinel Culsten’s eyes opened wide as the blade penetrated cloth and flesh, driving itself into his midsection.

Lif looked down to see that he was still holding fast to the hilt while half the blade was now buried inside Culsten’s chest, blood spurting forth from the wound and beginning to soak his hand.

Culsten stumbled forward as he coughed up blood but Lif steadied him before he could fall. He tried to pull out the blade but his alter ego grabbed hold of his dagger-wielding hand to keep the blade put.

The two men locked eyes. “I knew you had it in you. We’re much more alike than I would have given you credit for.”

Lif tried once more to pull the dagger back but Culsten fought him all the way and in doing so, the blade buried itself a few centimeters deeper into his chest.

“Maybe there is hope for you yet,” he said as blood was beginning to stream out of his mouth.

Lif felt the other man’s grip slacken and enough to allow him to let go of the hilt.

Culsten stumbled backward a few steps, seemingly determined to stay on his feet as long as possible. After a couple of seconds though, gravity won out and he collapsed hard onto his back.

Lif just stood there, paralyzed, watching the blood bubble around his mouth as he was fighting to draw breath.

“Lif, help me up.”

Garla shook him out of his trance-like state and he found her trying to climb back onto the sofa even though her legs were apparently not obeying her commands.

Lif quickly got to her side and helped her sit on the couch.

“I cannot believe the bastard managed to poison me. Something like this would never have happened in our universe. I would have seen it coming light-years away,” she said, apparently angrier at herself than she was at the man who had tried to kill her.

“Are you going to be all right, you think?”

She nodded slowly. “Seems to have been a paralyzing agent,” she said and scowled at the sentinel on the floor. “He clearly wanted to do the final deed himself.”

Lif followed her gaze and could no longer spot any kind of movement, the eyes of the man wearing his exact face were wide open, staring up at the ceiling while blood continued to pool around his torso and trickled down from the corner of his mouth and nose. It was, he thought, by far the most disturbing thing he had ever seen.

It took him a good while to finally divert his gaze from the sight of what very much looked like his own dead body. “What do we do now?” he said and considered Garla who had managed to regain control of her arms and was working hard to get her legs back under control as well.

“Chief Justicar Tenn to Sentienl Culsten. Your presence is urgently requested on the command bridge.”

Lif looked up towards the ceiling upon hearing the voice but when he regarded Garla again he realized that she was quite intently staring at Culsten’s dead body. “I believe that much is quite obvious,” she said before making eye contact once more. “Don’t you think?”
 
Sometimes, you have to wonder if you should get out of bed and face the galaxy (multiverse in this case) or stay in bed and dream of whatever Mister Sandman sends your way. In this instance, Garla and Lif appear to be truly and royally ... engaged in a terrible situation. Let's hope Owens and the Eagle crew are doing better. I hope their home universe is doing better than this. :)
 
Glad that Garla made it! Lif is going to need a ton of therapy after he gets home. But on the bright side, he’s gained some unique insight into both himself and the Star Alliance, two subjects he’s been trying to avoid.

On that subject, Michael has also been forced to confront ugly aspects of himself. I’m thinking this whole “meeting yourself” thing is overrated!

More soon, yes?
 
33


Bensu could not tell how much time had passed since they had made first contact with the subspace aliens via their shared mind link. He couldn’t be sure if it had been minutes, hours, or days, all he could tell for certain was that he had no idea where exactly he found himself now.

He seemed to be standing on solid ground but that was as much as he could tell with any kind of confidence.

His surroundings were another matter altogether. The best way he could describe the experience to himself was to say that he was looking through a large cracked glass window, damaged so badly that it rendered anything beyond it in a bizarre mess, blurry and out of focus it was almost impossible to make out any clear shapes and the longer he tried to make sense of anything, the more the effort caused him physical discomfort.

He attempted a few careful steps and although the ground remained steady underneath his feet, his surreal surroundings refused to change into anything even closely resembling natural shapes.

He felt the other presence before he heard him speak and turned around, immediately grateful to see something, anything he recognized. “Gary Seven.”

He nodded absentmindedly, clearly more preoccupied with his thoughts than his surroundings, including him.

“What happened? Where are we?”

“Did you sense it?”

He knew immediately what he was referring to and nodded. “Yes. And not for the first time. It was there before, when we first attempted the mind link in the Ring. Where are the others?”

“It is astonishingly powerful,” Seven said, still deep in thought. They call it the—“

“Beholder,” Bensu said.

At that Seven perked up, looking straight at the other man. “Yes. But who or what is it?”

Bensu shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’ve heard that name before.”

He had his full attention now as Seven took a step closer to him. “Where?”

“The subspace alien we captured uttered that same name when it was questioned on Eagle.”

“So it might be the name of another of their people? Their leader perhaps?”

“Honesty, I don’t know. We thought it may be the name of their species.”

“No,” said Seven as he turned away again, ruminating once more. “The subspace aliens do not refer to themselves by that name. They are known by many names but they don’t truly have one they use themselves. The Aegis has known about them for a very long time. For most of it, they were content to remain within the subspace domains that separate quantum-reality.”

“The branes,” said Bensu, remembering Xylion mentioning this theory previously. “That is how they were able to destroy other universes. By weakening the branes that separate them.”

Seven nodded again but without paying him too much attention, clearly, this part didn’t come as any great news to him. “We need to locate this Beholder. He is the key to all of this, I’m sure.”

Bensu crossed his arms defiantly. “First I want to know where we are and what happened to my friends. I deserve that much.”

Seven looked up again and regarded him with a subtle smile. “Of course, you do,” he said and then raised his arms dramatically as if to demonstrate all that surrounded them. “Think of this like a nexus. A place where space, time, and dimensions meet.”

“It’s giving me a headache.”

He looked around, frowning. “We have to thank our subspace friends for this. Their Ring is causing chaos in the space-time continuum. Or rather, in the interdimensional space that connects all of it. There is a delicate balance in the quantum-verse and their actions have caused serious damage to it.”

“Not to mention destruction.”

He nodded. “As for your friends, I assure you they are quite safe. At least, as safe as any of us can be. When the link was shattered, I was able to channel their minds back into their bodies. All five of them are currently unconscious but will no doubt wake again soon.”

“And why am I here?”

Seven stepped up closer to him, regarding him carefully. “Because you are not like them, are you?”

He didn’t respond to that.

“We’ve already established that you are, most likely, unique in quantum-reality, which already makes you incredibly special.”

He shook his head. “I don’t feel special.”

Seven looked him right in the eye as if he was trying to gleam a hidden truth there. “No, there is something else about you that doesn’t quite fit. And I cannot put my finger on it. Your race, for example, I don’t think I’ve ever encountered it before.”

“We are not native to the Milky Way. In fact, I am most likely the last of my kind anywhere,” he said, unable to quite keep the sadness and frustration out of his voice.

“That might explain it. Allow me to delve deeper, to see for myself who you are and where you come from,” he said as he held out a hand.

Bensu regarded it skeptically for a moment before meeting his gaze. “Why? Those memories are not the kind I wish to relieve. I’ve tried very hard to forget them ever since I’ve managed to unlock them.”

He nodded slowly. “They are painful to you?”

“I’m the last of my kind, what do you think?”

“I understand that this cannot be easy. But sometimes, in order to heal, we have to face our darkest pain. Our most inner demons. You cannot move forward without first coming to terms with what you left behind.”

Bensu uttered a little laugh devoid of humor. “Your interest isn’t in healing my pain. You are trying to satisfy your own curiosity.”

His proffered hand didn’t waver. “I am not pretending that I am doing this to help you. But knowing more about you may help me understand how you might fit into all this. Don’t tell me that you aren’t curious yourself. That you haven’t wondered why you have been feeling such peculiar thoughts lately, why you have known things you shouldn’t be able to know?”

Bensu couldn’t deny that all that had been playing on his mind quite a bit. That it had, in fact, disturbed him a great deal. “And you think you can give me answers to these questions?”

“I can try.”

Bensu took a deep breath and then grabbed his hand.

As soon as he made contact, he felt himself being sucked into a bottomless hole. He felt like he was being pulled by an invisible force at incredible speeds and yet, at the same time, it seemed that he was completely rooted to the spot where he stood, still holding on to Seven’s hand who also remained steadfast in place before him.

This strange whirlwind changed as suddenly as it had begun and when he looked up again he could see he was back home.

They stood in a city. It wasn’t the capital. Bensu didn’t know its name but it looked like so many other production centers that had existed on his world, bland and filled with factories that pumped out the one commodity most valued by his people.

The city stood empty now, entirely deserted thanks to the unbearable heat radiating down from a sky that had long since turned perpetually rust-colored. Although he couldn’t feel the temperature, the shimmer of the heat waves and the dried and shriveled vegetation all around him made it difficult to ignore the ecological disaster that was still unfolding here.

Bensu and Seven walked down a wide an isolated road that had already fallen into disrepair from the unrelenting heat and lack of maintenance.

“Celerias,” Bensu said. “Northern hemisphere, I venture.”

“The people?”

“Those who are still alive now dwell in makeshift underground cities,” he said and looked up at the sky, using a hand to shield his eyes from the massive sun hanging overhead. “We’re maybe a year or two away from the star going supernova and wiping out this entire system.”

“Anyone make it off the planet?” Seven asked.

Bensu spotted an overturned transport skimmer at the side of the road and headed for it. The vehicle had carried a full load of its cargo when it had been abandoned and much of it had spilled out on the side of the road.

It was a gruesome scene of broken and partly-molten body parts, appearing like lifeless mannequins at first sight but upon closer inspection, it became clear that these bodies had once been as real as his own. Their synthetical nature was apparent only where they had broken apart.

Bensu took a knee and picked up what was left of a head that had come detached from the rest of the body. It was entirely hairless, empty sockets where the eyes were supposed to be and the skin was shriveled and peeling off. “No. A few decades earlier there were plans to commission a space program but it was mostly shelved in favor of pursuing the lure of immortality.”

Seven seemed to understand. “Synthetic bodies,” he said and looked around. “That’s what was being made here.”

Bensu nodded slowly as he kept looking at the lifeless skull, thankful at least that these bodies had not yet been in use when they had been destroyed. “My entire world committed itself to the idea of living forever by transferring our essence into new bodies when the old ones wore out. After some time, it had become so commonplace, switching bodies became as fashionable as choosing a new outfit to wear,” he said and let the head fall onto the road again where it slowly rolled back towards the remaining heap of shattered bodies. “It marked the undoing of our people.”

He stood back up and faced Seven. “And I played part in those decisions as well. I could have fought to pursue other sciences that could have given us a chance at saving our race. Instead, I was just as happy to go along with this insanity as most of the rest of the planet. Pray tell me, how does any of that make me special? How does this fit into your notion of a unique being?”

“I don’t know. But then again, there is no straightforward explanation why unique beings exist in the first place. For all we know, there might be no master plan at work at all.”

“Comforting,” he said and took a last look around his dying world. “Are we done here? Can we leave this place to rest in peace?”

“How did you survive?”

Bensu had no response to this. It was, of course, a question he had asked himself ever since he had managed to unlock these memories a few weeks earlier and with the help of Xylion and a journey back to the Vulcan’s Forge where he had first arrived in this galaxy. Or rather, where a young Vulcan boy had come across his disembodied self and subsequently merged with his mind.

He shook his head. “Not all my memories of this time have been restored to me. I suppose my artificial body somehow managed to protect me.”

“Just yours? While billions of others perished? One hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

Bensu shot the other man a glare. “Do you have a better theory?”

“Tell me, what do you remember of living on this world?”

Bensu turned his back to the other man and walked away.

Seven followed him, not willing to give up just yet. “If you want to find answers, you must be willing to ask difficult questions, no matter how painful they might be.”

“What else is there to say? We lived here, they died, I survived.”

“How long did you live here, Bensu? How many bodies did you inhabit? What was your childhood like? What was the name of your father? What was your mother like?”

Bensu stopped and considered this for a brief moment “I … can’t remember.”

“Isn’t that curious?”

He turned around. “No. Up until a few weeks ago, I had no memory at all of this place. Some of it was restored but much more is still hidden from me. By all indications, all this happened hundreds of years ago and afterward I quite possibly floated through space for a few more decades until I ended up on Vulcan. Considering all that, some holes in my memory are hardly surprising, don’t you think?”

He nodded slowly. “It is certainly plausible.”

Bensu considered him cautiously. “But you don’t believe it. Then please, enlighten me as to what you think all this means.”

“I want you to consider the possibility that it didn’t start here.”
 
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34


There was no denying in her mind that the Michael Owens from this universe was a very different person than the man she had known for fifteen years, perhaps even more so than she had been different from her counterpart she had encountered in the previous universe they had visited.

For one, it seemed obvious that this version of Michael Owens had never encountered her homeworld during his first deep-space assignment and had never served there as a Federation liaison officer.

Based on the way her aura affected those around her on the other Eagle, the way they looked at her with elation and general wonder, made her believe that perhaps the Federation had never come across Tenaria at all in this reality.

Of course, this famed aura of her people that usually had an almost disarming effect on most people not used to it had not stopped Owens from very violently smashing her head against a bulkhead just before he had abducted her.

Her head was still ringing from the blow and she could feel a large, ugly bruise starting to swell up where her forehead had made contact with the wall.

She had vehemently refused any medical attention Owens had offered her once they had beamed over onto his ship, determined to remain as defiant as she possibly could.

This, of course, hadn’t stopped him from throwing her into what passed as a science lab on his ship, after posting an armed guard and locking her inside with clear instructions to find Star’s cloaked ship.

She had little intention of complying.

Instead, she couldn’t help wonder how this Federation had fared with such meager scientific resources as she took in the science lab around her. At first blush, it all looked very similar to the main science lab on Eagle where she spent a great deal of her time when noting manning ops on the bridge. It was in the same location on deck five and the layout was roughly the same. But as soon as she studied the consoles more closely it became apparent that this ship had just a fraction of the capabilities that her Eagle possessed. No virtual neutrino spectrometers or short-range quark resonance scanners left the ship practically without any serious planetary or life form analysis equipment and very limited option to carry out astronomical observations. Most of the sensory equipment available was of the most basic function to support navigation and tactical operations, which was odd, since the Nebula-class had been designed, at least in her universe, as a multi-purpose exploratory cruiser. Obviously, in this reality, Eagle had a much more limited role.

The fact that scientific study was not a priority here was further stressed by the man Owens had introduced as his chief science officer and ordered to assist her efforts in locating his prey.

Junior Lieutenant Tang Zian looked as if he had graduated Starfleet Academy just a few days ago. Part of that impression came from the fact that he had been unable to stare at her when she had first stepped into the science lab, her aura clearly having quite a strong effect on the young Asian man.

“You should be able to access main sensors over here,” he said and pointed at a centrally-located computer station after DeMara had taken her time to tour the lab. “I’ve already carried out some preliminary adjustments to the ventral array that should make it uh … easier to carry out long-range scans.”

She made her way over to the station he was standing at even while he kept his eyes firmly fixed on her. Her initial impression that he was making a rather clumsy effort of studying her body gave way to the realization that he was probably more likely taking note of her uniform which was a stylistic departure from the tunic he wore and one that had been phased out in her Starfleet half a decade ago. The irony didn’t escape her that, from everything she had seen so far, this reality was by far more militaristic than hers, his attire appeared almost cheerfully colorful compared to the gray-shouldered black outfit that was currently Starfleet’s standard duty uniform back home. She had never been particularly fond of the most recent redesign.

She stepped up to the young officer to cast her eyes over the science station.

“I don’t think I’ve ever encountered your species before,” he said, clearly still more interested in her than the job at hand.

“I’m Tenarian,” she said almost off-handedly and without making eye contact. Quite used by now to explain her heritage even in her own universe. After all her people weren’t exactly well-known and certainly nowhere as common as humans, Andorians, or Vulcans.

“I think I heard about your people,” he said.

“I have to be honest, this isn’t very sophisticated technology,” she said without paying him much attention. “I have no idea where to even start with this.”

“The captain mentioned a tachyon scan earlier.”

She shook her head. “With what?” she said and casually entered a few commands into the console but stopping short of actually taking a seat in front of it. “Your sensor resolution is far too low to get any accurate readings at the range we would require and none of the primary modules have been configured to detect tachyon emissions.”

“I … I suppose we haven’t had the opportunity to make full use of our sensor equipment in quite some time.”

“To be honest, with a setup like this I’m surprised you’ve managed to avoid colliding with a meteoroid.”

“We’ve been able to get by for the most part.”

DeMara looked up at Zian and the pained look on his face and immediately felt a sting of regret for the uncharacteristically belligerent tone in her voice.

Considering that she had been abducted against her will, she felt as if she could be forgiven for her attitude but she also knew her situation was hardly his fault.

It pained her somewhat to be this angry but it was difficult to deny her feelings and she also understood that as a captured Starfleet officer, she had a duty to find a way to escape. Even if she had been captured by other Starfleet officers.

“And the Captain is expecting results. He’s not a very patient man,” he said and out of his mouth, it sounded more like a warning than a threat.

“All right, listen, perhaps there is something we can do if we reroute power to boost the main deflector and use it as our primary sensor platform.”

He nodded slowly, understanding where she was going with this.

She took a seat at the station. “Why don’t you go and give me access to the array?”

He offered another short nod and walked towards a nearby control station. But he stopped after just a few steps and turned back to face her. “I’ve been instructed to keep a very close eye on you.”

She offered him, what she hoped, was her sweetest smile, the one Michael had once jokingly claimed was brilliant enough to melt the polar caps of Andor. It was a terrible exaggeration, of course, but it was also difficult to argue that it had helped her on occasions to charm herself out of difficult situations.

The Tenarian Glow worked its wonders and she could visibly see his facial features relaxing slightly. DeMara had never liked the idea of wielding her natural aura like a weapon, in truth, while it may have made other people feel a great deal better about themselves, it made her terribly uncomfortable.

“I’ve been unfortunate enough to be at the receiving end of your captain’s impatience,” she said and briefly brushed the still growing bruise on her forehead. “I do not wish to repeat that experience. The quicker we get this done, the sooner I can get out of here and preferably put as much distance as possible to your short-tempered commanding officer.”

He visibly gulped at seeing her injury and that, along with the penetrating look in her purple eyes, she guessed, made him find his resolve and he quickly walked off to the other computer station.

“Make sure to divert as much power as you can spare to the dish, we’ll need it all,” she added as she turned back to her own station.

“I should be able to tap into auxiliary power.”

“And anything else that is not currently in high demand,” she said as she began to tap away at her station. She had no intention at all to use the deflector to initiate a tachyon scan. Her one and only thought was to use it to send a coded message back to Eagle and to let them know her location. And while there were stark differences in how the ship operated compared to her own, the underlying functionality was very much the same and it didn’t take her long to reconfigure the dish to send out brief subspace bursts that on their own would look like innocuous background noise but hopefully, her crew would be able to identify as much more than that.

“I’ve managed to reroute some warp power,” Zian said, still entirely oblivious to her true motives. “That should give you more than enough power for the deflector.” He finished up and returned to join her.

That was very inconvenient to DeMara since she was still in the middle of sending her masked signals and even the young science officer would quickly recognize her efforts once he had a proper look at the readouts of her station.

She let the computer do the heavy lifting and then turned to pin the younger officer with a disarming look. “Tell me something, Tian. What is it like serving on a ship like this?”

This actually made him stop in his track as he offered her a puzzled expression in response. “What do you mean?”

She briefly took in the entirety of the science lab with its meager resources. “You’re a trained science officer, aren’t you? And yet your abilities seem to be wasted on what has essentially become a combat vessel with almost no scientific capabilities to speak of.”

He considered that for a brief moment. “I … I’m not sure.”

“You must have considered this before. I mean when was the last time you were able to actually apply your background and your education while serving on this ship?”

“We’re at war. I suppose our priorities had to shift.”

“But you haven’t always been at war.”

“It feels like we have. Before hostilities with the Preservers broke out, we were pretty much in a state of cold war for years. Before that, it was the Borg and trying to recover from the devastation they brought. People often say that I should be thankful that I am too young to remember the Borg. But I haven’t forgotten that half my family was assimilated by those machines.”

The pain in the young man’s eyes was palpable and DeMara’s already troubling conscience was punishing her further for having pushed him down this track in the first place.

Before she could consider how to make up for making poor Zian relive the unspeakable horrors of his youth, the doors to the science lab opened and Owens strode inside with purpose, followed closely by two armed and armored security officers.

“Report,” he barked without delay, immediately shaking Zian out of his reflective stupor.

“Sir,” he said quickly. “We’ve been making some progress using the main deflector dish to initiate a tachyon scan.”

Owens nodded sharply and walked over to where DeMara was sitting. “Good, how soon can we start?”
She glanced back down and realized that the computer had still not finished sending her message. She quickly stood from her chair to block Owens from the console. She shook her head. “It’s no use,” she said. “You simply do not have the infrastructure or the resources to make this work.”

“But I thought we could use the main dish—“

She cut Tian off. “Yes, so did I. But it’s configured all wrong for tachyon emission. It would take a major refit at a starbase to get it in the right shape.”

Owens stepped around her to look at the console she had been working on, forcing her to hold her breath. He studied it for a moment before he looked right back at her.

She crossed her arms defiantly. “It doesn’t matter how much you huff or puff, I cannot change the laws of physics.”

The growing creases on his brow spoke to his rising anger. He considered Tian for a brief moment who had joined him at the console but didn’t seem to be able to make any progress.

His eyes focused on DeMara again. “Lieutenant Tian, give us the room.”

The young man looked up with some surprise. “Uh, yes, sir,” he said and then quickly departed for the exit.

Owens ordered his security escort to wait for him outside as well.

“Is this the part where you threaten me some more? Or perhaps beat me senseless until I give you what you want?” DeMara said, hoping that she sounded much braver than she felt.

Owens shook his head as he made use of the space in the lab. “No, I don’t think threatening you is the way to secure your cooperation.”

“Then let me go. Put me on a shuttle and let’s all forget this unfortunate thing ever happened.”

He nodded slowly. “A tempting thought, I agree. Let’s just pretend I didn’t abduct you or hurt you in any way. Let’s pretend I am not the man I am and that I won’t stop at anything to get what I want.”

She didn’t like where this was going.

He finally turned to face her once more and the look he was giving her was making her skin crawl. “I won’t lay another finger on you,” he said. “What I will do, is arrange for a very unfortunate accident to befall my young but rather ineffective science officer. Maybe an energy surge behind his console or an overloaded EPS manifold. Sure, there’s a chance he’ll survive it but even if he does, he’ll be scarred for the rest of his life, both physically and mentally.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said shaking her head.

He closed in on her, so much in fact, she had to take a small step backward to keep him out of her personal space. “You have no idea what I’m capable of to achieve my goals. I already killed a man in cold blood today, a man I had once called a friend. Do you think that I won’t hurt somebody I barely even know, now that I am so close to finally getting what I want most in life?”

She shook her head again, this time with a mixture of pity and disgust. “Revenge? Is it really worth all that death?”

He looked her over for a moment. “Wherever the hell you’ve come from, clearly not. But I have nothing left but revenge. Nothing else to aspire to or hope for. This entire galaxy began a slow and painful death the day the Borg fell upon us like locust. This civil war will finish what is left of the Federation and to be honest, it doesn’t even matter which side wins at the end. We all lose. So yes, you’re goddamned right it’s worth it. It’s worth every last drop of blood I spill because it means that in some twisted, perverted way, some form of justice has been served in a galaxy where the entire notion is nothing more than a distant memory.”

For a moment they didn’t speak at all as they simply stared into each other’s eyes, both seemingly determined to stay their chosen course. “I cannot decide if you are simply misguided or plainly mad.”

He stepped around her and walked towards the exit. “You keep trying to figure that out. We’ll see if having the life of Lieutenant Zian on your conscience will make it easier for you to decide.”

“Wait,” she said.

He stopped and turned before he had reached the doors.

When she didn’t speak, he uttered a sigh. “I know what you’re doing. I know that you’re much smarter than most people on this ship, smarter than me. I know you’re resourceful, as is your crew. Clearly, they train Starfleet officers much better in your universe than they do here. You’re playing for time and I have no doubt that that insufferably righteous clone of mine will eventually catch up with us,” he said and took a small step towards her. “But do you think he’ll be able to do that before another person has to die?”

DeMara took a deep breath. She knew the answer to that question, had no doubt, just by the determined look on that man’s face, that he was very capable of following through on his threat.

She took a deep breath and sat back down at the workstation. It took her just a few moments, with Owens looking over her shoulder until she had completed the scan.

She looked up at the large screen above her that showed a gridded cross-section of the sector they were currently traversing. A small blue Starfleet chevron in the lower part of the screen represented their location. Not too far away, just a few grid spaces over, a small red chevron appeared.

Owens immediately focused on that symbol. “Star.”

“It’s definitely a cloaked vessel. And it has a Federation signature. It's not the most sophisticated cloaking technology I’ve come across, in fact, if that had been a Romulan Warbird or even a Klingon ship, I doubt I would’ve been able to find her so easily.”

“How far?”

She entered a few more commands. “She’s traveling at warp four on a near perpendicular course and is currently less than point two light-years from our position. By gradually altering our course and speed, you may be able to sneak up on her and intercept that ship within two to three hours.”

A large smile formed on Owens’ lips, one that gave her no comfort at all. “Well done, Lieutenant, well done. One way or another, it all ends today.”
 
I'll be honest, CeJay, I only got up to Chapter 10 of this fantastic tale. I'm waiting for you to finish and publish it in a format I can read on my Kindle so I can devour it all in one go. After how much I loved the first book of this story, I'm unbelievably eager to dive headlong into it.

I keep checking in on the updates, hoping to see 'THE END', but nope, not yet!

So, *ahem*, hurry up and finish it already! :lol:
 
Some intriguing back history with Bensu. Interested in seeing how this fits into the larger tapestry!

And wow, AU Michael is just downright evil. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think he’s from the Mirror Universe!

Things are looking more grim all the time for our heroes. Really eager to see how they pull themselves out of the proverbial fire.
 
35


Bensu’s head was spinning and not just because he had suddenly been transported back to the dying and seemingly desolate world that had once been his home. He had learned of his origins only a few weeks earlier and now, Gary Seven, the man who had made this strange journey possible, and who he had known for less than a day was already challenging the basic concepts of his reality.

Bensu was ironically aware that reality wasn’t all it appeared to be, certainly not since discovering a past which had eluded him for at least seven decades, but more likely, hundreds of years longer than that, considering how long ago the events he was reliving now had truly transpired.

Reality had been in flux for him long before he had been the reluctant recipient of knowledge he couldn’t account for, about the aliens who dwelled deep within subspace and the universe-annihilating superstructure they had created.

Reality had been in flux for him even before that same superpowered particle collider had deposited him and Eagle into not one, but two different realities not their own.

“Now hold on,” he said, pinning the odd human with a piercing stare. “Just because I don’t remember my childhood, or my parents, doesn’t mean I didn’t belong here.” He pointed at the strewn-out body parts on the heat-shimmering road. “For centuries, my people switched out bodies like fashion accessories, extending our lifetimes to unnatural lengths. That alone makes it hardly surprising that I cannot remember all of it.”

“Up until a few weeks ago, you didn’t remember any of this at all,” Seven said. “And if I had to guess, you wouldn’t even have imagined the possibility that you could have once lived on a planet located in another galaxy, so distant from where you ended up, it would not have been possible to reach it by conventional methods in most humanoids’ lifetimes. Or that you would have survived said planet’s destruction. Is it so difficult to believe that there could be more?”

Bensu uttered a sigh. It had never been easy living a life with his memories unavailable to him, both when he had inhabited Xylion’s mind and also afterward, once he had gained possession of a body of his own.

Naturally curious about his condition and finding ways to cure it, he and Xylion had been studying all sorts of similar phenomenon and afflictions, such as neurodegenerative diseases which still affected some humanoids to this day and caused them to lose parts or sometimes even all of their memory.

He had always felt that his condition was different, his short-term memory had never been affected and he had never had issues with performing routine tasks. But not knowing one own’s identity had occasionally driven him to the brink of total depression.

He regarded the other man again. “What makes you think there is more?”

Seven took a small step closer to him. “We have been connected by far more than a mind link since I brought you here. I cannot read your every thought, but I do sense a presence within you that is far more significant than what we already discovered.”

“Because being potentially hundreds of years old, having survived a planetary apocalypse and somehow managed to traverse an entire galaxy is not significant enough?”

Seven offered him a rare smile that seemed somewhat out of place on his normally serious features. “I suppose it’s all relative,” he said and then changed tracks again. “While we are here, within this nexus, I can utilize the full resources of the Agency. I know that you unlocked these memories with the help of your Vulcan friend. Well, the Agency is far more powerful. And if there is truth to what I say, we may be able to glean more to what lies beyond the surface. If you allow me.”

Bensu nodded reluctantly. “This seems to be the month of personal discovery.”

Seven shook out his hand as if to warm himself up. “Excellent. Now, the Vulcan way of initiating these things is a little bit quaint but seeing that it was successful the last time you attempted this, I see no reason not to start that way again.”

“Last time we did this, we had a medium. An energy source we found in the Vulcan’s Forge where I first arrived on Vulcan. We believe it was somehow connected to my arrival there,” Bensu said.

“Our medium is the vast resources of the Agency. That should be more than sufficient to unlock what in essence is already there, just buried deep within your being,” he said and then placed his hand on Bensu’s face with his fingers spread out to make contact with specific points. “It’s been a while since I’ve attempted something like this.”

“Feels right,” Bensu said.

Gary nodded. “It may help if you close your eyes and focus on your earliest recollections of this place.”

He did as he was told but it was clear that there were significant holes in his memory. Certain memories were as clear to him as they had taken place yesterday, such as the moment he had relived only recently. His role as a scientific aide just a short time before his planet’s ultimate doom, when he witnessed his government’s cowardly decision to keep the truth of their world’s impending destruction from the public, or the much more recently unlocked memory of his role in voting against dedicating resources towards the planet’s space program and instead continuing on a course to improve and increase the production of synthetic bodies, one of many decisions that would ultimately seal Celeria’s fate.

“Good, good. Keep going. Try to force your mind further into the past.”

But the task was becoming increasingly difficult. He caught occasional glimpses, other Celerians he had known, friends and presumably even loved ones but assigning them names or actual memories continued to elude him. As he had already suspected, he had clearly lived on that planet a long time, changing into a new body whenever the old one began to deteriorate, sometimes even much sooner.

“Don’t worry about focusing on details. Just hang on to anything your mind can conjure, anything at all. And keep working backward from that.”

The images passed by his mind’s eye faster and faster, soon turning into flashes that allowed him to recognize nothing. The flashes became an ongoing blur that seemed to mean nothing and yet something was happening, he could feel it.

“Astonishing.”

When Bensu opened his eyes again, he was no longer on dying Celeria. Instead, they found themselves on a sprawling green world, standing in what appeared to be the very top of a city-like structure build into one of the most massive trees towering above a lush forest that stretched out to the horizon.

Although he couldn’t feel it, the leaves all around him rustled with the breeze and up in the fuchsia-colored sky he could spot at least three stellar bodies, moons, or planets, Bensu wasn’t sure, but their presence made it undeniably clear that they were no longer on Celeria.

Seven pointed to the distance and a pair of majestic-looking, large birds heading their way.

“Those aren’t birds,” Bensu said, correcting himself, and even before he recognized any details. “They are Accipians.”

Moments later the two flying-creatures were close enough to make out their roughly humanoid-shape, heads, shoulders as well as arms and legs that formed an intricate part of their wings. Their bodies were covered in delicate white and green feathers, one was slightly smaller than the other and Bensu knew it was female.

They came within perhaps a hundred meters of where he and Seven stood, showing no signs at all of spotting the out-of-place visitors, but they both performed quick, aerobatic rolls in mid-air, causing Bensu to smile.

“You know this race?” Seven said as he watched them fly past their tree to continue their journey.

“Yes.”

“But you never encountered them while you were on Celerias. Your people did not travel into space nor hosted alien visitors.”

He nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on the pair now gaining distance again. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Watch out.”

It was only once he had felt Gary Seven’s hand holding him back that he realized that he had stepped dangerously close to the edge of the platform they stood on, erected a good few hundred meters above the structures below.

“Last I checked you don’t have any wings and a drop like that will hurt, even in this construct.”

Bensu considered him curiously.

The world around him began to fade away.

“What’s happening?” Bensu asked.

“Think of it like a computer program,” Gary responded. “Working within your mind, trying to decrypt any kind of information it can find. When it succeeds, we get to see what it has uncovered.”

They found themselves inside a massive, oval-shaped room, and in-fact Bensu was aware of its shape not because he could see the far walls but because he simply knew. At the center of the room stood a large arch leading to seemingly nowhere, except that it shimmered with a blue field of energy, partially obscuring what lay beyond it.

Tall and slender beings with purplish skin and elongated skulls and six eyes arranged in two vertical rows frequented the room, casually stepping in and out of the arch and into the force field where they promptly appeared or disappeared seemingly from thin air as if instantaneously being transported.

“The Demons of Air and Darkness,” said Gary Seven with noticeable awe in his words. “This is truly astonishing.”

Bensu watched as the beings went on with their routine, entirely oblivious to their two visitors. He had a sense that he understood their purpose, their very thoughts, and desires. Their need to protect themselves and their loved ones against those who feared them for their intellect and their technology. Their anxieties about the slow but steady encroachment of their enemies who took small steps closer every century to threaten everything they held dear.

“This is quite extraordinary and yet I sense that there is still more,” Seven said and gently touched Bensu’s shoulder.

He turned to face the other man but in doing so, their reality changed yet again, this time to what looked like an ancient city, at first glance seemingly build of stone and glowing white marble, with large cobbled streets and impressive monuments build on top of the various hills around them.

The population of this world wasn’t all that different from the last beings he had seen, except that these had long and thick, feather-like hair and claw-like hands. They wore a varied assortment of long white gowns which, similar to many of the buildings around them, seemed to glow. But most amazing of all were their singsong-sounding voices that filled the busy streets and which made him feel as if he were listening to a choir of a musical opera.

Bensu didn’t get a chance to take in much of his surroundings as he was ripped through time and space yet again.

He caught only glimpses of what looked like a barren planet and a large humanoid, at least four meters tall, holding a long staff and tasked with the awesome responsibility to guard the gates of an entire empire and possessing powers befitting such a grand position.

He instinctively knew that this was the Age of Xora but couldn’t immediately grasp what it meant or how he understood this at all.

Once more he did not have time to ponder this for long since once more his surroundings changed before he could fully digest them.

There wasn’t a great deal that he could immediately make out when the world around him came back into focus.

He could see specks of brilliant lights, not like stars in the sky, but something far more immediate, close enough to touch.

He understood in an instant that each of these lights possessed a vast intelligence, far greater perhaps than anything he had seen or experienced up to this point. He also knew that they had not always been this way. They had evolved to this state over a nearly immeasurably long time.

“Are they who I think they are?” Seven said, mesmerized for a moment by the radiance they were exposed to that went far beyond mere luminosity.

“Yes,” Bensu said almost out of instinct.

As startling as their appearance had been, the way they vanished so suddenly was far more disturbing, almost as if somebody had plunged him into a darkness, total enough to swallow his soul and cold enough to freeze his heart.

Bensu felt himself physically shudder, not having expected this to be possible within the construct Seven and his people had created.

He seemed to be floating aimlessly through the void and he could neither see nor sense Gary Seven who had previously remained close by his side throughout this entire strange journey.

The flash of bright crimson light was so sudden and intense, he thought it would burn out his eyes and he tried to bring up a hand to shield them from it only to find that he apparently no longer had any hands to do so.

In fact, his entire body seemed to be missing.

The first flash of light was soon joined by others, of varying colors, from the darkest, coldest blue to the brightest yellow and everything else in-between.

They lit up in sequence at first, one after the other, but soon they all flashed in their own specific intervals, creating an endless canvas of color.

He could feel the vibrations deep within his inner self, each resonating in perfect rhythm with those flashing colors, almost as if to give each its own unique voice.

The patterns all around him were beginning to speed up, becoming more urgent, the vibrations very much mirroring this increasingly rapid tempo and intensity and Bensu knew something was very wrong.

He tried to calm the many voices, do anything to make them understand that there was no need for such anxiety but to no avail.

Soon the light patterns pulsed at a rate that caused them to merge into one large and angry mass of light and energy until everything faded to white. The vibrations he could sense were so powerful, had he possessed any ears, he was sure they’d had ruptured by now.

Darkness once more followed the light.

He felt a touch and a distant voice.

“Bensu?”

He opened his eyes to see two familiar faces looking down at him both of which mirroring their obvious concern, although in Xylion’s case it would have been easy to miss his alarm unless one knew precisely what to look for.

Louise Hopkins knelt at his side and helped him sit up from where he was lying on the floor of the Ring’s control room.

Looking around he could see Nora and the two SMT operators as well. The human woman, Diamond, looked particularly disturbed while Ivory’s neutral facial expressions would have made Xylion proud.

“How do you feel?” Hopkins asked.

“I am not sure,” he said honestly.

Xylion was referring to his tricorder. “You do not appear to have suffered any injuries.”

Nora’s facial features turned from concern to irritation. “What exactly just happened?”

With Hopkins’ help, he slowly got back onto his feet although his legs felt rubbery and he needed the engineer to steady him initially. “I’ve been on one hell of a trip.”
 
We have some intriguing interaction between Gary Seven and Bensu going on here. Will Bensu somehow hold the key to resolving this crisis? Or is there something about his past that could make things worse?

I remember reading about his origins in, was it called "Coming Home"? I've said this before, but I don't know if your readers fully appreciate just how extensive your story arcs really are. State of Entanglement brings together threads from multiple tales, most notably Civil War. To those of us who've read your other works, this story pays a lot of fan service.

As always, standing by for more.
 
36


There was a condition that Michael Owens liked to refer to as a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach which oftentimes appeared to be related to a physiological phenomenon rather than a physical one. It was a sensation that DeMara had thankfully been spared of for most of her life.

It was impossible to ignore now, however, after she had been escorted to the bridge of the ship that had abducted her and forced to take over the operations console by the man responsible for her predicament.

She knew exactly why she was feeling this way. It was difficult to argue that this version of Michael Owens—she had started to think of him as Dark Michael—would have been able to successfully locate the exact whereabouts of the ship they were now approaching, and that carried the woman he was determined to kill, without her. Whatever happened next, she fully understood that part of the responsibility lay on her shoulders. And so, apparently did her stomach.

She was still convinced that her only alternative had been to hold out and risk the life of an innocent young man, Dark Michael would not have hesitated to sacrifice, in order to gain her compliance.

She had not yet given up, however, on finding a way to ultimately thwart his nefarious ambitions. “Distance to target: Five million kilometers and closing,” she said as she followed the sensor readouts of the cloaked ship on her console. It was only part of what she was doing. Although she had two well-armed security guards standing just a couple of meters behind her to ostensibly keep an eye on her, she seriously doubted that they had enough understanding of ship operations to follow what she was up to.

This wasn’t because she thought her guards to be intellectually inferior to her, instead it was clear that Starfleet officers in this universe were simply not trained to the degree she had been. Dark Michael understood this as well, why else would he have chosen to replace the young enlisted man who had been in charge of the ops station with her?

She had quickly found that she had perhaps a third, if not less, of the resources and functionality at her disposal via operations on this ship than she was accustomed to. It made her job a great deal more challenging.

“The target is changing course by three degrees,” said the only other officer on the bridge DeMara recognized, a man who could have easily passed as the twin brother of José Carlos. In this reality, he appeared to be the most senior officer on the ship next to the captain, which was telling since he was a mere lieutenant and in charge of security and tactical. First officers, experienced or otherwise, seemed to be a rare commodity in this Starfleet.

“Adjust your course,” the captain said.

DeMara shook her head and swiveled her chair around to face him. “I wouldn’t recommend that.”

“Why not?”

“Their course correction is far too minor to signal a change of direction. It is more likely that they are trying to establish if we have detected them and are baiting us into adjusting our course accordingly.”

A smirk came over his face. “We have been creeping up on them for the last four hours, they are becoming suspicious,” he said and then nodded. “Very well, no point in getting impatient now, not while we are so close. Helm, keep your speed and course until we reach the ambush point.”

“We’ll have to amend our interception angle and speed slightly to adjust for their course change,” she said and then turned back to her console to calculate the new course, while that irritating discomfort in her stomach reintroduced itself.

She knew she had to play along for now, making him think that she was doing everything in her power to get him what he wanted. As it stood, the plan was deceptively simple. Although their distance to their quarry was still significant enough to consider it merely coincidental, thanks to the unique gravimetric attributes of the star-packed Amargosa Diaspora, at their current speed and course they would reach a point within less than an hour at which a dramatic change of heading and a jump to maximum warp, would allow them to intersect the other ship’s course in less than two minutes.

It was a tactic that would most likely not have worked in most other regions of space, and under any other circumstances, DeMara would have been quite proud of her calculations that made this possible.

Tazla Star’s cloaked vessel didn’t attempt any further course corrections after Eagle had failed to take the bait and the next hour passed with few words being exchanged on the bridge.

“Approaching ambush point in thirty seconds,” said Carlos from the tactical horseshoe-shaped station behind the captain.

“Stand by to execute intercept.”

The officers around him acknowledged the order while DeMara continued to monitor their course, and that of the other ship, closely.

“Ambush point achieved,” Carlos said.

Owens was too anxious to remain in his chair and stood. “Do it, do it now. Bring weapons and shields online.”

The red alert panels lit up as the ship prepared for battle and DeMara could feel the less-well-aligned inertia dampeners struggling to compensate for the sudden change in direction and acceleration to warp nine point five. She thought she could hear the hull groan from the stress put on its frame and the engines. She was convinced that Louise Hopkins would have shed tears of frustration if her ship had exhibited such obvious signs of poor maintenance while performing this high-speed maneuver.

“We are on a direct intercept course and will enter weapon’s range in forty seconds,” Carlos said, the tone in his voice now nearly as eager as that of his commander.

“They’ve spotted us,” she said as she noticed the sensor readout that represented the other vessel suddenly adjust course. She knew it was far too late by now. She was much like a preyed upon animal that had failed to spot its hunter approach until it had lined up for the kill shot.

“You can run, Tazla, but you cannot hide. Not anymore,” Owens said as he stepped closer to the main screen, even though at present it showed nothing but the stars streaking past. “I’m coming for you. I bet you can feel it deep down in your gut already. This is it.”

DeMara had no idea who exactly he was talking to but for now she didn’t much care either.

“Weapons range,” Carlos nearly shouted.

“Fire everything.”

It wasn’t quite the light show that one would have expected, and partially that was due to her efforts. Then again, firing weapons from a ship traveling near two thousand times the speed of light while trying to hit another craft traveling at about four hundred times the speed of light on an intersecting heading was not exactly the easiest proposition under the best of circumstances. It required the kind of calculations even she wouldn’t have been able to carry out in real-time. It was a job left to the ship’s powerful main computer.

It may not have had quite the same processing speed as the one on her Eagle, but it was just adequate enough to ensure the brief phaser fire, and three out of six torpedoes fired hit their mark or were at least close enough to fulfill their purpose.

“Direct hit, she’s dropping out of warp,” Carlos said, his excitement still palpable.

“Stay with her. Let’s finish her off for once and for all.”

Not a moment later Eagle dropped to sub-light speeds as well and right behind a decloaking ship with a slightly elongated saucer section connected to a detached secondary hull by its two integrated warp nacelles. To DeMara, it looked similar to a Steamrunner frigate, except, unlike most Starfleet ships she had ever seen, this one was painted entirely black, making it difficult to make out against the void of space had they not just entered a binary star system, the bright light of the two suns outlining her silhouette perfectly on the main screen.

According to her hull markings, she was named the Erebos even though the computer had no match for her in the Starfleet database.

She was badly limping now, leaving a trail of green warp plasma from her damaged right nacelle while her impulse engine was sputtering.

“Hail her,” Owens barked.

“No response.”

“Just open a damn channel then.”

Carlos nodded to let him know it had been done.

Owens stepped ever closer to the main screen until he stood practically right next to her, staring intently at the broken vessel futilely trying to escape. “This is it for you, Tazla. The end of the line. Tell me, how does it feel to be the one in the crosshairs for once? How does it feel now that I’m finally putting you out of your misery? Surely a part of you has to be relived, I wager.”

The screen came on to static at first. It slowly cleared up enough to show the Trill woman, kneeling on her bridge to help an injured crewmember and looking up over her shoulder at them. Although DeMara had seen this woman before, briefly, when she had come onto her Eagle and pretended to be the first officer to abduct Jon Owens, Jarik, and take the Prism artifact, she had adjusted her looks for that mission. In this reality, she wore her hair cut very short, rather than tied up in a ponytail like her Tazla was wont to. She had a couple of small but still noticeable scars running across the lower part of her face. She was also currently bleeding from a cut on her forehead.

“This may come as a shock to you,” she said, her voice even and collected. “But my life has not revolved around you and your mad quest to hunt me down. In fact, I’ve spent very little time over the last year thinking of you.”

The words were clearly well-chosen since they hit home. “Don’t pretend to be so indifferent. I’m about to make you pay for your crimes. Are these really the last words you wish to be remembered by?”

She stood and turned to fully face him. “Don’t make me laugh. This has nothing to do with justice.”

“You killed my brother.”

She looked away for a brief moment. “Your brother? Oh yes, I remember him. Nice guy. I believe he worked for the Guardians when I last saw him. He had switched sides because he was fed-up with your self-righteousness arrogance. Does it help you to pretend that the two of you were close? Does it help justify this sham of a revenge quest you’ve dedicated your life—“

“Your attempts at stalling for time are pointless.”

“At least admit to yourself that none of this is because of your brother. The only person you’re doing all this for is you. Because without this, you have nothing.”

He stared at her with such intensity, with such pure unadulterated hatred, had he been a telepath, DeMara wondered if he would have required weapons of any kind to incinerate the woman where she stood.

“I wish I could say it was nice knowing you,” he nearly spat. “Make peace with whatever dark deity you aligned yourself with.” He turned his back on her and looked right at his tactical officer. “Wipe her out of the stars.”

Carlos nodded and activated the required panels on his console. Then he frowned.

“Do it now,” Owens said, clearly infuriated at having to ask twice.

He shook his head. “I can’t. Weapons are not responding.”

On the screen, Star snickered. “I thought that this maneuver you pulled off was far too intricate to have been conceived by your limited imagination. I see you had some help,” she said, glancing at DeMara. “I think we’ve met already. Actually, I know we have. Don’t think I’d forget that face.” She regarded Owens again whose veins were noticeably swelling. “My guess is she may not have been as helpful as you had hoped.”

“Cut the channel,” he barked, and then, before DeMara could even see the Trill disappear from the screen, she felt his hand on her shoulder, roughly pulling her out of her chair and painfully throwing her against the bulkhead. He pinned her to the wall, his reddening face coming within inches of hers. “What have you done?”

She wanted to retort with a clever line about how she had managed to foil his plans to get his revenge and murder an entire starship but the savage fury in his eyes prevented her from being quip. “I’ve rerouted power from weapons to forty-nine separate subsystems over the last two hours and recalibrated the EPS manifolds feeding phaser control and the torpedo guidance systems to accept only polarized electro plasma that cannot be converted into operational energy.”

“Undo this now.”

She shook he head. “It’ll take me two hours, maybe more to readjust the manifolds.”

DeMara involuntarily closed her eyes when she saw him cock his elbow to strike her. Instead, his fist punched into the bulkhead next to her head so hard, his knuckles began to bleed.

“I should kill you where you stand.”

“I don’t think you will.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me.”

She took a small breath. “You may not be the man I’ve known for most of my life, but I have to believe that you share some of the attributes that make him the man he is. Even if it is just an infinitesimal amount. You have it within you to change this course you have chosen for yourself. You know where it leads, and you can still decide not to follow it to its ultimate conclusion.”

In response, he put his hand on her throat and began to apply pressure to her neck. She reached for his hand threatening to cut off her air supply but then, as he looked him right in the eye, she let go again.

“I can sense that power of yours, you know,” he said as he kept his firm grip on her throat. “That sensation of warmth and comfort you seem to be able to evoke somehow. It won’t work on me.”

“If I’m wrong about you, then do it.”

He didn’t let go but he didn’t tighten his hold either. Instead, he moved his face even closer and for a moment she worried he was going to try and kiss her.

She felt a sense of shame, quickly followed by disgust, that for a very brief and fleeting moment, she actually found herself welcoming that gesture as her mind was tricking her to think of him as another man altogether.

He brushed away a couple of locks that had fallen into her face and then pushed his mouth so close to her ear that their cheeks touched. “My counterpart is a goddamned fool for not seeing what he has in you. If I’d had you in my life, things would have been very different. For both of us,” he said, keeping his voice barely above a whisper.

“Captain, I’m detecting two ships approaching our coordinates,” Carlos said.

Owens considered her for a moment longer, exploring her purple eyes as if trying to see inside her Then he let go of her neck, allowing her to breath properly again, and turned towards his tactical officer. “Who is it?”

“It’s Agamemnon, sir. Along with the other Eagle. They’ll reach us in about thirty minutes.”

He shot her a telling look. “Of course, they are. No doubt your doing as well.”

DeMara held her tongue.

Owens turned back towards the screen that still showed the Erebos limping away from them, clearly no longer in a shape to put up a fight. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll be too late to stop me from finishing what I’ve started.”

“At their current speed, they will reach the orbit of Telron XI in less than an hour,” said Carlos.

“Like hell they will. Prepare an assault team. I’ll lead it,” he said and took a step closer to the screen, a smirk growing on his face. “I think I’ll prefer it this way. I think it was meant to be this way. To let me see her eyes as I drain the life out of her body.”

Owens turned to his security chief. “You have the bridge, Carlos,” he said and then headed for the doors leading into the turbolift. But he stopped short of reaching them and turned to regard DeMara with one last look. “I’ll see you in another life, gorgeous. Perhaps there things will be different.” He didn’t wait for a response and disappeared into the lift.
 
First off, I’ve gotta tell you, loving the “Dark Michael” thing! Please make him a reoccurring villain! His nickname is too cool not to exploit.

DeMara is all sorts of courageous here. Sabotaging Dark Eagle’s weapons (I couldn’t resist) was an almost certain death sentence, but in the finest tradition of Starfleet bravery, she decided to sacrifice herself to save lives. I’m just glad it didn’t come to that.

I’m properly amazed that she pulled this off undetected. Luckily this ship is undermanned and isn’t exactly filled with the creme de la creme of Starfleet! Still, she is pretty amazing here. Hope she makes it out of this universe in one piece!

Standing by for additional transmissions.
 
37


“Whatever this was, let’s never do it again,” said Nora Laas who looked visibly disturbed by her most recent experience.

Bensu thought he understood why. The Bajoran security chief was very much a woman of physical action, most of the time not by choice, he believed, but certainly, it was what she knew, what she understood best. The metaphysical on the other hand was not something she felt comfortable with, particularly not delving into people’s minds and sharing their experiences.

Although considering the brief glimpses he’d gained of her inner thoughts, he had been surprised to find a calm within her he had not expected based on his purely exterior observations. He wondered if it was a more recent development, perhaps the beginnings of a spiritual journey of sorts.

Regardless, it had likely not been enough to prepare her for what she had been through, what all of them had been through. The chief engineer, Louise Hopkins, and the SMT operator Diamond, both people, who like Nora, were focused on the things they could control with their hands rather than with their minds, looked similarly rattled.

Hopkins glanced over at Xylion who had remained as stone-faced as always, except perhaps for that nearly imperceivable hint of concern for his close personal friend. “What did we just experience,” she said as her glance wandered over to him. “What was that?”

Bensu didn’t have words to offer, thankfully Xylion didn’t suffer from that same condition. “Apparently, with the assistance of Gary Seven, Bensu was exposed to visions from the distant past.”

He shot the Vulcan a surprised look. “You saw it too?”

Nora nodded. “Oh, I think we all saw it. And trust me, I wish I hadn’t.”

“It was a fascinating experience,” said Xylion.

“You’d say that,” Nora said.

“I believe we witnessed brief flashes of various ancient races, many of which the Federation possesses little historical data on.”

Hopkins nodded briefly. “I think I recognize the Hyterians,” she said and Bensu recalled that Eagle had been instrumental in rediscovering that ancient civilization before he had come aboard, which explained why Hopkins would have been familiar with them.

“Indeed. We may also have been exposed to the Iconians, the Organians, and the Tkon,” said Xylion who this time wasn’t quite able to entirely hide his astonishment over these events from his usually carefully schooled features. “Although those exposures were brief, Federation anthropologists will no doubt consider them of tremendous value.”

Nora just shook her head. “I’d rather not go through that again. And the more pressing question, for now, is: What does it all mean?”

To that Xylion had no answer, and neither did Bensu.

“I wish I could provide some answers.”

The entire away team whipped around at the sound of the unexpected voice.

Gary Seven had reappeared once more. He was back in his specter-like form, noticeably flickering, cutting in and out as if his apparition was fighting against some sort of interference. He took a few steps towards Bensu. “I will have to consult further with my colleagues at the Aegis about what we have seen but I have no doubt that whatever it was, whatever it means, there is much more to you Bensu than meets the eye.”

“I am not sure I like the sound of that,” he said in response.

Seven looked off into the distance, into the empty void outside the bubble they still found themselves in, seemingly looking at something only he could see. “The subspace beings have redoubled their efforts to fight me. I think they may be more afraid of the answers than you. I doubt I’ll be able to maintain this form for much longer.”

As if to stress his point, he briefly disappeared entirely, before he re-manifested itself again.

This was followed by sudden activity all around them, with a number of the holographic control panels at the center of the room beginning to flicker and change colors.

“What’s happening?” Hopkins said as she carefully approached the circular control stations to look over their changing appearance, although it was obvious that even with all her technical expertise, she couldn’t make much sense of this technology.

“I believe the structure is beginning to reactivate,” Seven said.

“The last time that happened,” Nora said with deep worry lines crossing her brow, “an entire universe was wiped out.”

Xylion offered a brief nod and glanced back towards Seven. “What options are available to us to prevent the supercollider from fully engaging again?”

“Not many, I’m afraid.”

That wasn’t good enough for Nora. “You called yourself some sort of guardian of the galaxy. Surely stopping a doomsday machine able to collapse an entire universe would be something that falls right into your jurisdiction.”

“You are not wrong,” he said and took a moment to let his eyes roam the control room. “And trust me, the Aegis is taking this extremely seriously. They are working hard to find a solution to this even as we speak. But the unfortunate truth is, none of us expected something like this. We were not prepared and are still playing catch-up. It is an unforgivable failure but it is, unfortunately, the situation we find ourselves in presently.”

Nora threw up her hands in frustration. “That’s just great.”

Gary Seven once more disappeared briefly before he managed to reestablish himself even as his appearance was continuing to deteriorate. “I don’t have much time and the nature of this subspace pocket makes it difficult for me or the Aegis to provide you with additional support.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?” Hopkins asked.

Seven glanced back towards Bensu. “I think the answer lies with you.”

But he quickly shook his head. “Well, unless you can spell out what exactly that answer is supposed to say, I’m afraid we’re out of luck.”

“I wish I could be of more help—“ he cut out momentarily. “But it is imperative that you find those answers inside of you. After what I’ve seen, I have no doubts that that’s where you’ll find them.”

“But in time to save a universe?” Bensu said, unable to hide the skepticism in his tone.

Seven didn’t look very optimistic.

“We were able to oppose the subspace beings, for a short time, by creating a mind link,” said Xylion after short contemplation. “It may be possible that the same strategy, on a larger scale, could prove more successful.”

Seven nodded. “It’s a valid theory. But you’ll need much more—and forgive me for saying so—much more disciplined psionic energy than—“ He disappeared once again but this time Gary Seven did not return.

Instead, the entire bubble-encased chamber began to tremble slightly.

“Now what?” said Nora.

“We will have to deploy the only strategy we know has previously shown to be successful,” the science officer said.

Nora emphatically shook her head. “I’m not going through that again.”

“No,” Xylion agreed. “Considering what we are facing, any further attempts will have to be carried out by individuals with strong psionic aptitudes and even that may not be enough to counter the subspace aliens. To maximize our chances of success and if sufficient time and resources were available, I would strongly recommend that we create the largest possible psionic field by involving as many individuals with telepathic abilities as we can gather.”

Hopkins steadied herself against the control consoles when another, stronger quake nearly caused her to lose her balance. “From the way things are going, time is definitely a commodity we’re rapidly running out of.”
 
A-ha! I knew Bensu was some sort of key here! I just wish Gary Seven could give more specific information. But then, I guess I'm asking too much of him. Even he has his limits. (Ahem. BTW, caught that "Guardians of the Galaxy" joke.)

Now we need a combined telepathic effort to help save the next universe that's about to expire. Yikes. Seems a long shot, but unless Gary and his cat come up with something better, it's all they have. Still, why to I have the feeling that Dark Michael will find a way to cause more trouble, even if they're successful?

Still a lot of moving parts here and I'm anxious to see how they come together.
 
38


Tazla Star checked over her phaser rile one more time, making sure it was set on heavy stun, and then allowed her gaze to survey the rest of her five-man boarding team.

It was perhaps a little smaller than she was entirely comfortable with mostly due to Nora’s recently adopted post-war strategy. Since the security chief had successfully lobbied the captain to replace their large marines contingent with less than a dozen Special Mission operatives, away mission tactics had accordingly shifted away from heavily-armed fire teams to highly specialized individual operatives.

Nora had likened this strategy to using a scalpel rather than a hammer to achieve the same objectives. Although Star was not sure if their late marine commander Caesar Wasco would have approved of such terminology.

There was, however, little doubt in her mind that this new strategy had been enormously successful ever since the Niners had joined Eagle as an additional security and combat resource and looking over the three unconventional operators in their anything but standard issue combat fatigues and highly modified weapons and gear, Tazla felt somewhat reassured.

“We’re less than two minutes from reaching the other Eagle,” Captain Owens explained via an open comm. channel from the bridge. “Captain Donners is more than happy for us to take the lead on this.”

“Considering their testy relationship, that’s probably a good thing,” said Tazla.

“Agreed.”

“Has the situation changed in any way?”

“No. Eagle is still chasing the vessel we assume belongs to this universe’s Tazla Star deeper into the star system. It has taken heavy damage from an attack and it is not likely to offer much further resistance.”

“And I assume we’re not getting involved?”

“We are already involved one way or another. But as far as my counterpart’s agenda is involved, that is not within the scope of our mission here. It might sound callous but we can’t afford to get dragged into their conflict.”

“Understood. Find DeMara and get the hell out.”

“That’s the idea. But prepare for a hot insertion. We’ll be dropping out of warp within transporter range of the other Eagle, force them to lower their shields, and beam your team directly onto the bridge. We can’t tell with a high degree of certainty where they are keeping Dee, but the bridge is a good place to start. If necessary, you should be able to secure the ship long enough to locate and extract her.”

Tazla finished with her phaser rifle, allowing it to cycle up to its highest setting briefly, the rising hum and gentle vibrations confirming that the weapon was fully operational. “We’re ready as soon as you give the signal.”

Owens hesitated for a moment. “Watch you back over there. Don’t take any risks you don’t have to. I want DeMara back but I am not willing to exchange her life for anyone’s on the boarding team.”

Tazla couldn’t hide a little smirk crossing her features, one that Owens obviously couldn’t see. ‘Bring’em back and don’t suffer any casualties while you do it’, was always a good plan to start with. Reality usually found a way to mess with good plans. “Solid copy, sir.”

Tazla considered her team next. The tall, bald-headed, and red-bearded Sensy was her point man, and he had brought the Boslic woman Violet and the short Tellarite Charm along for the ride. Nora’s capable deputy Lieutenant José Carlos rounded out the team. She signaled for them to take position on the transporter platform as she took the most central pad.

Owens had kept the line to the bridge open so that they could hear how things were developing.

Everything was mostly routine for the next minute or so until Ensign Srena announced that they were dropping out of warp.

“This could get rocky,” said Tazla to her team and took a knee on the platform to steady herself, the rest of the boarding party quickly following suit.

Things progressed very quickly after that. Uncharacteristically for Starfleet’s standard rules of engagements, Eagle came out of warp firing, clearly unleashing meticulously planned phaser fire at her twin starship, targeting areas that would be most effective to disable her shields around the bridge. Since both ships were almost identical in design, it had not been difficult for Leva to locate their most vulnerable spots.

The other ship did return fire but judging by the rather light shudders reverberating across the deck underneath her, Tazla guessed that most of their response was rather lackluster or poorly executed. Perhaps their weapons’ energy had been spent from their assault on her counterpart’s vessel.

Just a few seconds after Eagle’s heavy barrage had commenced, Leva announced that they had achieved their objective.

“Transporter room, you are a go. Good luck.”

She gave Chief Chow behind the console the sign which he acknowledged with a sharp nod before he engaged his controls.

The world around her faded out briefly as she lost molecular cohesion but thankfully not nearly long enough to make her consider all the things that could go terribly wrong when boarding what was essentially a hostile vessel, by beaming directly onto their main bridge in the middle of combat.

As had been the plan—conceived by Sensy—screening grenades had materialized just a second or so before they did. They had instantly released a thick grayish smoke, designed to not only severely reduce visibility for the enemy but also impair their balance and hand-eye coordination thanks to its mild cordrazine content.

The away team had already been inoculated against this effect and Tazla was able to see the bridge and the crew in almost perfect detail while wearing special ocular lenses in her eyes—a handy little tool she had become familiar with in her line of work as a clandestine intelligence operative.

The first thing she noticed was the similarities between this bridge and the one she spent most of her time on. Its shape and design were nearly identical and besides a slightly darker color scheme, the only noteworthy difference she could spot was that this bridge featured only a single chair in the command area and that the two forward-facing wing consoles were missing like on the older bridge designs for this class of vessel.

She didn’t have a great deal of time to consider the physical differences, since the shooting started almost as soon as she felt the solid deck under her feet.

There were at least eight crewmembers on the bridge, five of whom appeared to be heavily armed, clad in body armor which was uncommon in her Starfleet except during special operations.

Everyone on the bridge not having been inoculated and wearing the special lenses had clearly been affected by the screening grenade but that hadn’t stopped half of them to open fire almost blindly, creating a dangerous close-quarter battlefield.

Tazla managed to squeeze off just one shot with her rifle, not even sure if she had connected with anyone before she dove for cover behind the tactical console.

“We’ve got five heavies,” she heard Sensy’s voice through her subdermal communicator. “Those are our priority tangos. Everyone else is secondary.”

Clearly, the ocular lenses the SMTs used were an upgrade to what she had known in her days since just moments after Sensy had made the announcement, the outlines of all five targets appeared in her vision clear as day, even though the solid cover she had sought out. She was starting to get an idea why these guys were so good at what they did. At least part of it had to do with their toys.

Equipped with the knowledge of the exact location of each of her opponents, she rolled out from behind the tactical station, aiming squarely at the nearest trooper, she came up firing.

“Three has limited effect, recommend immediate switch to setting four,” said Violet through comms even while Tazla watched as her target stumbled backward as his body armor absorbed her well-placed blast and then quickly retaliated by firing into her general direction.

Tazla had time to utter a Trill curse before she jumped for the side alcove for cover following her unsuccessful strike. She knew she had to think fast. Evade the incoming fire and at the same time consider a response to the SMT request. Since she was the ranking officer, it was her call to make. She didn’t like the choice—phaser setting four was potentially lethal—but she also understood that there was little time for compromise and her enemies were definitely not holding back. “All hands, go to four,” she said even before she had fully managed to press herself against the bulkhead to avoid the incoming fire.

“Acknowledged,” Sensy responded instantly.

Even behind her cover, she could see the three Niners operating like a well-oiled machine, standing pretty much shoulder to shoulder, they swept their rifles across the bridge to blast their enemies faster than they could take aim.

Tazla could see that even on the higher setting, some didn’t go down immediately and needed at least two blasts before they were neutralized.

She spotted a young officer—not wearing body armor and therefore not marked as a priority target—having picked up a weapon a trooper had dropped and trying to take down Violet from behind.

She leaned out from her cover and aimed low, trying to limit the damage, striking the officer in her leg and causing her to collapse to the floor.

Not a second later Violet whirled around and, instead of blasting her, flipped her rile around stock-first, and smacked the woman against the head, knocking her out cold instantly. The Niner gave Tazla a very brief appreciative nod before she twisted her weapon back again and finished off another armored opponent.

Even before the young officer had gone down, Tazla had spotted, out of the corner of her eye, that Carlos had run into trouble.

The security officer had frozen less than a second when he had come face-to-face with a man who shared his exact same facial features. In fact, it appeared it had startled both men. However, the other Carlos recovered a fraction of a second quicker and threw himself at his alternate version before he could fire.

Tazla swept her rifle in his direction but her blast was also a tick too late, striking an empty bulkhead rather than the target she had aimed for.

The two men struggled briefly on the floor before one of them found a discarded weapon and aimed it at the other as they got back on their feet.

Tazla would later berate herself for her own split-second hesitation as she couldn’t immediately tell which Carlos was hers.

In the end, however, her delay was not critical, since another person had emerged from the slowly settling fog on the bridge. She had not been picked up by her ocular lenses.

Deen yanked Carlos around by his shoulder, forcing him to face her. The security officer hesitated just long enough to allow her to deliver a vicious blow to his solar plexus that caused him to double over in pain before she uncorked a powerful right hook to his face, sending him sprawling to deck where he remained.

Clearly groggy and dazed, he tried to pull himself back up on his elbows but his doppelganger had already located his sidearm and stunned the other Carlos with a quick blast to his chest and rendering him unconscious.

“Clear.”

Tazla took a few steps closer to the deputy security chief to make sure the right man was still standing before she glanced over to Sensy who had given the signal.

The smoke had now almost entirely evaporated, revealing a bridge littered with bodies, damaged computer consoles, and pockmarked bulkheads. Charm and Violet were in the process of securing three crewmembers who had surrendered after considering their odds against the boarding team.

“That was one hell of a punch,” Carlos said with obvious admiration. “And to think we came here to rescue you.”

Deen forced a smile even though she was clearly in pain, holding the hand she had used to strike the other Carlos. “I was getting bored of playing the damsel in distress.”

Tazla walked over to Deen and spotted a noticeable bruise on her face. “Are you all right, Lieutenant?”
She was still mostly preoccupied with her hand. “Not sure, I think I may have broken something. Hurts like crazy. Remind me not to punch people in their faces.”

Although her discomfort was obvious, Tazla couldn’t help but smile at her. “I don’t know, that looked pretty effective from where I was standing. I think, perhaps, you have a future in security.”
Carlos agreed. “I’m sure Nora would love to have you.”

Deen just shook her head. “Not on your life,” she said and then quickly turned toward one of the few remaining consoles still operational. She used her good hand to enter several commands. “I’ve sealed the bridge and erected a force field around it. That should give us a few minutes of privacy.”

“Let me look at that hand of yours, warrior princess,” said Violet with a smirk as she removed a compact medkit she was wearing on her utility belt.

Deen rolled her eyes but offered the Niner her hand as she used a compact tricorder and then a small battlefield hypo to treat it.

“Reading some fractures. This will deal with the pain but you’ll need some more TLC than I can give.”

“Thanks,” she said as she began to relax from the injection she had received.

“Owens to away team. What’s your status?”

Star switched the audio channel over to the bridge speakers so that Deen—who wasn’t equipped with the subdermal—could hear as well. “We’ve secured the bridge and found Deen. As it turns out, we didn’t even have to go search for her.”

“What’s her status?”

“I’m fine, Michael. A few bruises and a fractured hand. I’ll live.”

“Fractured hand?”

Tazla smiled again. “Oh, don’t worry, sir, I’ll definitely be filling you in on that later.”

“Very well. Where’s Captain Owens?”

Deen glanced towards the viewscreen that still showed Eagle in pursuit of the smaller and plasma-venting starship as they were both approaching a crimson-colored planet. “He went after Star on her ship. He left shortly before you arrived.”

When the captain didn’t immediately respond, Tazla spoke up. “Sir, we’ve got what we came for. Let’s get out of here and head back towards the Ring at best speed. Altee already has a head start on us.”

When Owens still didn’t answer Tazla exchanged a concerned look with Deen.

“She’s right Michael, we need to get on our way.”

“I’m not comfortable with leaving my alternate like this.”

“Sir, with respect, he made his choice and it is not our place to get involved. You said so yourself,” Tazla said, perhaps a bit sharper than she had wanted to. But she was convinced that going after the man was the wrong move, especially considering the stakes, and she was concerned that her captain was letting his personal feelings cloud his judgment.

“He is not you, Michael. He made that abundantly clear to me while I was his guest here. Let him go,” said Deen.

There was another pause. “I understand that it would be the prudent course of action here but I’m just not ready to give up on him. Call it a foolish hope but it is hope nonetheless. Besides, if we can get him back, perhaps he will help us against Altee. We are already significantly outnumbered.”

Deen shook her head. “I wouldn’t count on his help.”

“I am not going to order anyone else to go after him. I’ll do it myself,” Owens said.

“Absolutely not,” Tazla nearly barked.

It garnered her a curious look from the entire away team.

“Commander,” Owens said in a warning tone, not unlike one a father would give a misbehaving child.

Tazla quickly changed tact. “Apologies, sir. But I cannot let you do that. If this is important to you, and I can see that it is, I’ll go after him and try to bring him back,” she said and made eye contact with Sensy who gave her a reaffirming nod, letting her know that he was with her. “I’ll take the Niners as backup, they have already agreed to volunteer.”

Owens uttered an audible sigh.

“Sir, please, we are losing valuable time. Let me do this.”

“Very well,” he finally said. “But you will not take any risks. I cannot lose anybody because of my desire to try and save a man who has proven to be hostile and uncooperative time and time again. I trust you to make the right call, Commander. If there is no way to bring him back, you follow Dee’s advice and you let him go.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll beam Dee and Lieutenant Carlos back and send you and the rest of the team directly onto the other vessel,” he said.

Deen just shook her head to indicate what she thought of this idea but restrained herself from voicing it out loud again.

The Niners prepared their weapons in anticipation of yet another fight.

“Ready when you are,” Tazla said.

But before she was grabbed by another transporter beam, Deen gently touched her shoulder, forcing her eyes on hers. “Watch yourself with that one. He has dedicated his entire being to a single idea to a point that it has become his sole obsession. I’m not a counselor, but I’m convinced he’s far too close to the edge to avoid going over it completely. Make sure he doesn’t take you with him.”

Her chilling warning echoed in her mind as she felt the transporter take her yet again.
 
Out of the fire and into the frying pan with a handful of Roman candles sounds like a very fiery situation. Two Stars on the same ship with Evil Owens? I hope the Niners brought their sunscreen. That fight's going to be brighter than a supernova and just as dangerous.
 
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