Previously in Star Trek: Dauntless – After its
crew participated in the final battle of Earth’s Eugenics Wars, the USS
Dauntless has entered a time warp to
return to its own era.
The Dauntless shook violently under the
stresses of time travel.
“Status?”
shouted
“Warp
stresses are well within tolerances,” shouted back Jeffery Bloom, the ship’s
Chief Engineer from his post at the side of the bridge. “Our return to the 24th century should not be
a problem.”
“Exec?”
Koester again shouted to be heard above the din.
On the other
side of the bridge, the ship’s First Officer clung hard to the Science Console,
overlooking his Assistant Chief Science Officer. His silver Bajoran earring, a gift given to
him years before after fighting alongside the Bajoran resistance, dangled back
and forth as the ship rocked to and fro.
“We’ve made
corrections to our basic formula, based on our trip to the past, Skipper,”
Virgil Kane answered. He looked again at
his Trill assistant. Commander Q nodded up at him, then returned her
attention to the console as Kane continued his report. “We won’t overshoot this time. We’ll reappear in the Terran system a few
moments after we began our slingshot back to the past.”
“Very good,
Exec. I wouldn’t want to be late for our
own party,” Koester joked.
“Cap’n!”
exclaimed Ray Russell from the aft ops station.
“Ah’m sensin’ a pow’r suj in th’ ODN conduits, deck 9, secshun 2!”
“Noted,
Commander,” Koester responded. “Mister
Bloom, hold us together!”
“Doing my
best, sir,” the emotional Vulcan responded.
Just then,
with a sudden burst of light, the Intrepid-class ship broke the time warp,
emerging back into real-space.
...And
that’s when all hell broke loose.
Space, The
Final Frontier.....
These are
the voyages of the starship Dauntless.
Its
five-year mission:
To Seek, To
Chart, To Explore...
Slipping the
surly bonds of Earth
going where
none have been before!
Star Trek: Dauntless
“Time Slip” By PJK
Based on the
unpublished story outline “Forward to the Past” By PJK
With
excerpts from the Star Trek: Arcturus story “…Where Change is the Only
Constant” By John Colagioia
“This can’t
be right!” Kane exclaimed as he looked at the readouts on the science
console. “We have to have emerged in the
wrong system!”
“Re-verifying
the scan, Virg,” Q responded. “Star charts check out. We’re in Sector 001, approaching the third
planet in orbit of the primary.”
“What is it,
Exec?” Koester asked, standing and starting to walk down to the science
station.
“I’m not
sure, Skipper,” Kane replied. “Still
reconfirming the sensor readings.”
“Okay
everyone,” Koester said, directing his attention around to each person on the
bridge. “I want status reports and
level-four diagnostics on all major systems.”
“Captain,
over here,” Bloom directed.
“Something
wrong, Eng?” Koester asked, stopping mid-stride and turning around to walk over
to the engineering console.
“Not wrong,”
answered Bloom. “Just highly
unusual. The ship is surrounded by a
high concentration of chroniton particles, no doubt a byproduct of our time
journey. It shouldn’t effect ships
operations, but it will be a few days before they disperse completely.”
“Very
well. Keep me informed.” Koester again turned back toward Kane and Q.
“Well, Exec? Commander? Are we in the Terran system or aren’t we?”
“Spectral
class-G yellow star, nine planets, inner four are terrestrial,” reported Q.
“Asteroid belt, four ringed gas-giants, and one semi-rogue terrestrial
planet in furthest orbit.”
“Sounds like
the Terran system to me,” Koester said.
Kane just started to shake his head.
“Planet
three is class-K, and totally devoid of life-forms,” he reported. “Planet four registers life, but on a
single-cell level.”
Koester put
up his hands, saying, “Wait... Wait a second.
Is this the Terran system or not?”
“Entering
standard orbit of the third planet,” Francis Lenny, the young officer at the
helm, reported. The planet that appeared
on the viewscreen was dark, brown, barren, cloudless, and almost
waterless. An inhospitable world with
just a touch of familiarity to it. Kane
finally spoke.
“All I can
say, Skipper, is that planet, at one time, was Earth.”
* *
* *
“The Earth’s
condition can only be explained by massive orbital bombardment,” Q explained to the senior staff
gathered in the observation lounge.
“Radiation readings indicate the bombardment occurred approximately
eighty years ago, and resulted in the total annihilation of the planet’s
populace.”
“So, despite
careful calculations, we overshot our time period by, oh say, one hundred
years?” Koester asked his science officer.
“No, sir,”
answered Kane. “According to astrometric
readings, we’re right when we’re supposed to be. Chronologically speaking of course.”
“To be
exact, we emerged into real-space five minutes after our warp to the past
occurred,” Q clarified.
“Then what
happened?”
“We don’t
know yet,” Kane said with a shrug.
Before Koester could say anything else, the intercom sounded.
“Captain,”
said the voice of young Ensign Shawn Natchez.
“We’ve analyzed the remains of Earth and have determined the bombardment
was carried out with weapons of Klingon design.”
“Klingon?!?”
Koester and most everyone else at the table murmured nearly together. All eyes fell on the Security Chief, Karg.
Karg
grunted, then said, “I can offer no explanation, Captain.”
“We’re not
expecting one, Mister Karg,” Koester said.
The red-haired Klingon ensign visibly relaxed. “Bridge, this is the Captain. Plot a course for the nearest Federation
member world in the Alpha Centauri system.
All ahead, warp factor 9.”
“Course
plotted and laid in, sir,” responded Lieutenant Jarquio. “Ahead warp 9.”
And with a
streak and thunderclap, the Dauntless
entered warp.
* * * *
Captain’s log, stardate 49523.6:
The Dauntless is en route to Alpha Centauri in hopes of finding an explanation to the
Earth’s mysterious condition. How could
such a total annihilation occur in only five minutes. And why do sensors say the planet was laid
waste over 80 years ago? We hope to find
some of our answers in the star system 4.5 light years ahead of us.
Koester, out.
* * * *
Koester and
Kane both sat tensely in their seats on the bridge. Both had refused to relinquish their posts,
although a number of shift changes had occurred. Both waited for the answers that lay just out
of reach ahead.
“Captain,
now entering the Alpha Centauri system,” reported Ensign Lenny at the helm.
“Scans?”
Koester asked.
“Long range
sensors indicate numerous ships in orbit, Captain,” Ensign Natchez reported.
“At least
there are people here,” Kane remarked.
“Maybe we can get some answers?”
“Captain,”
interrupted
“My God,
what’s happening here?” Koester demanded.
“It sounds like a prison planet!”
“Captain,
shields just snapped on!” Lenny exclaimed.
“Red alert!”
ordered Kane, and just as he did the bridge rolled to port, knocking crew
members to the deck.
“Report?”
Koester shouted.
“We’ve been
struck by a photon torpedo, sir!”
“Full sensor
scan!”
Just then,
another blast rocked the Dauntless.
“Shields
down by 55%, Captain.”
“Where is it
coming from?”
“Nothing is
registering on sensors,” reported Kane, who had taken station at the science
console.
Without
warning a huge, bird-like shape filled the screen.
“Captain,
Klingon Bird-of-Prey, but some sort of advanced model, has just decloaked in
front of us,” Lenny reported.
“All stop!”
“I’ve never
seen a ship of that design before, Captain,” Karg said from his tactical post.
“And I hope
never to see one again, Mister Karg,” the Captain replied. “A Klingon ship that can fire when
cloaked. Sound familiar, Mister Kane?”
“Should it,
Skipper?”
“They’re
hailing us,”
“You should
learn more about your history, Exec. The
Khitomer Conference about eighty years ago was almost cut short by something
like that. On screen, Mister Natchez.”
The view
changed from that of the vicious-looking Bird-of-Prey to a smug-looking Klingon
warrior.
“I don’t
know who you are,” the warrior said, “but you will surrender your ship or be
destroyed. You have violated the
territory of the Klingon Empire.”
Koester
stood and took two paces closer to the screen.
“This is
Captain Peter J. Koester of the Federation starship...”
“Federation?!?” The Klingon on the screen almost rolled out
of his command chair laughing so hard.
Koester and Kane exchanged uneasy glances. When the Klingon captain finally stopped
laughing, he again looked at Koester through the viewscreen. His smile seemed almost pleasant.
“There has
been no Federation since the Age of Chang.
If you are going to insult my honor by lying, at least say something
more plausible.”
Koester
motioned for the audio to be cut.
“Exec, what
are our chances of getting out of here in one piece?”
“I’d say
slim to none, Skipper.”
Koester took
a look at those around him on the bridge.
His eyes locked with those of his Trill science officer, the closest
friend he had aboard the Dauntless,
who was standing at the rear of the bridge.
Without
taking his eyes from hers, the Captain slowly said, “Mister Lenny, on my mark,
take us out of here, maximum warp. I
don’t care where to. Mister Karg, at
that moment, I want you to fire a full barrage, both phasers and photon
torpedoes.”
“But
Skipper, the Klingon ship will sense us powering up weapons long before we can
fire. We’re dead,” Kane said.
Koester
finally broke his eye contact with Q
and looked at Kane.
“Trust me,”
he said.
Turning to
face the viewscreen, Koester said, “Mister Lenny, Mister Karg, ........Now!”
To the
Klingon Security Chief’s amazement, four photon torpedoes launched from the
forward tubes and the phasers fired a full barrage the moment he activated the
trigger. Taken by surprise, the Klingon
vessel wheeled over violently before exploding in a dramatic light show, and
the Dauntless once again leapt into
warp speed, this time quickly away from Alpha Centauri.
* * * *
Captain’s log, supplemental:
To paraphrase Lewis Carroll, things are getting
curiouser and curiouser. We are no
closer to an answer about Earth’s fate, and now we have the added mysteries of
a Klingon-run gulag on Alpha Centauri and a Klingon warship that can fire
weapons when cloaked.
Thanks to Mister Lenny, the Dauntless is now on course to the planet Vulcan. Who knows what we’ll find there?
Koester, out.
* * * *
“I’ve been
going over it again and again in my mind, Virg,” Koester said as the two sat in
the Captain’s ready room. “Could we have done something in the
past that so radically changed our present?”
“No,
Pete. I’ve reviewed the computer
records, Q’s reviewed the computer
records, even Kethry’s reviewed the computer records. Everything we did in 1996 fulfilled history,
not changed it. It couldn’t have been
us,” Kane replied.
“Than what,
or who, did?”
“Hopefully
we can find out answers soon. I don’t
think we’ll survive another confrontation with these Klingons.”
“That’s
another thing,” Koester commented. “One
of the things that Klingon commander said.
The Age of Chang. If history has
changed, why does that sound so familiar to me?”
“You know
more about history than I do, Pete.”
“Aside from
my own family’s history, most of what I know I learned from Q.”
“Why not ask
her then?”
“I did. She had no idea what it referred to either.”
The two sat
there quietly for a moment, each silently contemplating the circumstances that
placed them in this precarious position.
Then Kane spoke.
“Pete, even
if we do learn what went wrong... …What
do we do about it?”
“The only
option we have, Exec. Fix it. Or die trying.”
* * * *
The Dauntless entered Vulcan’s solar system
from seventy-five degrees above the plane of the ecliptic, normally a route into
a solar system least traveled by most star faring cultures, since navigation
aids generally routed incoming ships more directly to Vulcan. Long before they could visually see the
planet Vulcan, sensors informed the crew that something was indeed very wrong
in this star system as well.
“Red
alert! All hands, man battlestations,”
ordered Kane.
“Captain,
I’m registering a large metallic structure in the position where Vulcan should
be,” Q reported.
“My
God! The Klingon’s somehow dismantled
the planet and replaced it with an artificial construct?!”
On the
viewscreen, a shiny, blocky, metallic shape appeared, slowly growing larger as
the Dauntless approached. Kane walked over to stand beside Q’s station.
“Negative,
Peter. The planet Vulcan is still
there,” Q informed. “What we are seeing is a vast network of
orbital platforms, satellites, structures, and craft. Over 80% of Vulcan’s geostationary orbit has
been taken up by what appears to be an incredibly large shipyard.”
“A
shipyard?!?” both Koester and Kane said simultaneously while Kane bent over to
peer at the science console’s sensor readouts.
“I’m reading
approximately five hundred ships in various stages of construction, with at
least another two hundred in orbit,” Q
concluded.
“Skipper,”
said Kane, looking up from the sensors.
“I’m registering millions of life form readings coming from the shipyard
structure. Vulcan, Tellarite, Terran,
Betazoid, Andorian, Arcturian, Rigillian, Denebian, Klingon... It’s got to be the largest slave labor camp
I’ve ever seen... or even imagined.”
“Suggestions?”
Koester asked the bridge crew around him.
“Do we turn and run, or maintain our approach?”
“If we run,
where are we to go, Captain?” Karg asked.
“I believe even I could not fit in amongst these Klingons. And changing course so suddenly to flee would
no doubt draw notice and pursuit.”
“Cap’n,”
said Ray Russell at ops. “We appea not
to have been noticed yet. Pahaps we
should juz move in slowly. It seems they
think we’a pard a th’ no-mal traffic.”
“Very
well. Mister Jarquio, take us in,
one-half impulse.”
“One-half
impulse, aye, sir.”
“Q, keep scanning. There’s got to be someplace we can hide in
all that.”
Koester
looked once again at the viewscreen, which was now half-filled by the image of
Vulcan, with the incredible shipyard surrounding the planet like a huge egg
shell.
After a few
minutes, Q’s exclamation drew
everyone’s attention.
“Got
it! Grid coordinate 216, 116, 199. An unused drydock, big enough for us to fit
into. Seems to be in a part of the
orbital structure not currently being utilized.”
“Send the
course to the helm,” Koester ordered.
“Aye,
Captain.”
Soon, the
small Intrepid-class starship coasted into the structure of the shipyard and
moments later assumed a position station keeping within the empty framework of
the unused orbital drydock.
Once the
ship had settled into place and the bridge crew let a few minutes pass to
assure themselves that no one had seen the Dauntless
or would investigate the newly arrived vessel, they all drew in a relieved
sigh.
“Okay, two
things while we’re here,” Koester said.
“Besides information, we need a way to get out of this system in one
piece. Exec...”
“Yes,
Skipper,” Kane replied.
“I want you
to form an away team, and make sure Karg is a part of it. I want you to find a cloaking device we can
install onto our shield generators.”
“I take it,
then, that Starfleet uniforms are out of the question?”
“Have
replicators make up whatever would be appropriate for slave labor. And have Karg wear a Klingon uniform. Computers can replicate one based on the
viewscreen image of the Klingon we encountered near Alpha Centauri.” Kane nodded.
“Meanwhile,”
continued the Captain, “I need Q and
Bloom to remain here. I’m going to need
their expertise to tap into this orbital structure’s main computer system
undetected. Hopefully we can download
the information we need without being noticed.”
“Understood,
Skipper,” Kane said, then tapped his combadge.
“Karg, Karandanz, Lieutenant Sutherland, this is the XO. Meet me in transporter room one in twenty
minutes.”
* * * *
The
transporter beams materialized into four humanoid figures. The only one visibly armed, Karg, took a
position behind the others, acting the part of a guard over his ‘prisoners.’
“The brief
sensor readings we took before beaming over indicated this area is the
warehouse for engineering equipment,” Kane said as he took the lead. Lieutenant Carrie Karandanz, another of the Dauntless’ security officers followed
second, interpreting the signs written in Klingon as they passed. Lieutenant (JG) Kyle Sutherland, the younger
brother of Ship’s Counselor Kethry Sutherland and one of the Dauntless’ engineers, walked third.
“Do you honestly
expect the Klingons to just label a door ‘cloaking devices’?” Sutherland asked
in a hushed tone.
“Actually,
all the door labels say is deck, section, and room number,” Karandanz said.
“It’s
hopeless,” Sutherland sighed.
“Quiet!”
Karg hushed. “Someone’s coming.”
Karg barely
had time to raise his disruptor at his ‘prisoners’ when two Klingon lieutenants
rounded the curve of the corridor. They
stopped short at the sight of the oncoming quartet.
“What are
you doing here?” one of the lieutenants asked Karg in Klingonese.
“Worker
transfer,” Karg replied, sounding as confidant as he possibly could.
“It’s about
time,” the other lieutenant mumbled to the first. “Do these workers have any specific location
assignment?”
“Uh..., not
yet, sir,” Karg said. Kane started to
worry that perhaps they would not make it out of there in one piece as he
cautiously tried to reach his hidden hand phaser.
“Good,” the
first Klingon lieutenant said. “Bring
them to cloaking device staging area two.
Deck 7, Section 1, Room 55.”
“Yes...,
uh... sir,” Karg said, sweat starting to form on his brow ridge.
“Ensign, are
you feeling well? You seem pale. Maybe you should let one of those so-called
Vulcan healers take a look at you,” the Klingon chuckled.
“I’m fine,
sir. I’ll take them to Deck 7, Section
1, Room 55.” And with a crisp Klingon
salute, he marched his prisoners off down the corridor, jabbing his disruptor
muzzle into Sutherland’s back for added emphasis. Once out of sight of the departing
lieutenants, Karg almost collapsed against the side of the corridor, Sutherland
glaring at the security chief as he attempted to rub the spot where the
disruptor had dug in. The others
gathered around Karg. The Klingon ensign
was mumbling to himself in a language that sounded familiar to Kane, was
obviously not Klingon, but spoken too quietly to understand.
“Are you
alright, Karg?” Karandanz asked.
“Let me
recover from this coronary first and I’ll tell you,” Karg said, forcing a grin.
“Can you
believe the luck?” Kane said.
“It’s too
easy. Way too easy,” said
Sutherland. “I think we’re being set
up.”
Karg stood
up straight, and with his disruptor, pointed down the corridor. “Let’s get moving,” he said. “Before they send more workers to the staging
area.”
The away
team moved quickly up the levels to deck seven, located section one at the
outer rim of the structure, and after a few minutes of searching, eventually
found room fifty five.
Two Klingon
guards stood watch by the large doors.
Karg explained he was ordered to bring workers to the cloaking device
staging area, to which one of the guards, expecting an influx of new workers,
simply nodded and opened the door. Karg
and his group entered, and the doors noisily shut behind them.
The away
team expected a busy work area, filled with beings of many races scurrying this
way and that as parts were made ready for the ships being built by the huge
shipyard. What they found, however, was
a room filled with dozens upon dozens of compact cloaking devices, some the
size of small cases, while others, obviously built for the large
battlecruisers, stood two meters tall and a meter across. But as far as the Starfleet crew could see,
there was not a single other being present in the bay.
“Too easy,” Sutherland warned under his
breath.
“Lieutenant,
find a cloak of the size that will adequately cover the Dauntless,” Kane said to Sutherland. Shortly, the team had removed a box about one
cubic meter in size and placed it in the center of the room.
“Kane to Dauntless,” the Terran turned Bajoran
said as he tapped his hidden combadge.
“Lock on. Four personnel and one
piece of equipment to beam over.”
“We’re
locked onta you,” said the heavy
“Energize.” And with a hum, the quartet and their prize
disappeared.
* * * *
“The away
team’s back, sir,” the transporter chief reported to Koester over the
intercom. Koester looked over at the
engineering station.
“Bloom, go!”
he ordered. “Mister Kane, report to the
briefing lounge immediately.”
Moments
later, Kane entered the lounge through the doors off the bridge. Around the large table sat Koester, Counselor
Sutherland, and Q.
“What’s up,
Skipper?”
“Sit down,
please. I have Mister Bloom attempting
to connect your little consignment as quickly as possible, so he is not able to
attend this briefing. I must admit, your
team found a cloak a lot quicker than I would have dared hope.”
“We, uh...
had help,” Kane said evasively as he sat next to the captain.
“Well, we’ve
been busy here too in your absence.
Bloom and Q managed to access
the main computer through a little known access point at what used to be Vulcan
Space Central. Turns out there’s good
reason for why some of what we’ve encountered is familiar to us.”
Q looked over at the First Officer.
“It all
traces back to the Khitomer Conference of 2293.
According to our history, the Federation starships
Kane looked
back and forth between Q and the
Captain. Q continued.
“That Bird-Of-Prey
was under the command of the assassinated former Chancellor’s Chief of Staff,
General Chang.”
Suddenly the
light bulb went on over Kane’s head.
“The Age of
Chang!” he exclaimed in a whisper.
“Yes,” Q confirmed. “According to the downloaded files we’ve
obtained from the shipyard computer system, in this reality, the
“Why do I
have a sinking feeling in my stomach?” Kane said warily.
Q pressed a keypad on the table. The viewscreen on the wall lit up with an
image. Khitomer. The day of the famous Accords. The Federation Council President stood at the
podium, giving his speech introducing the new agreement between the United
Federation of Planets and the Klingon Empire, which had recently suffered an
environmental catastrophe. And sitting
within the Federation delegation in front of the podium, Commodore Eric W.
Johnson, Captain Solak, Commander Baael, Dr Athena Arcadian, Lieutenant Briana
Lithir, Lieutenant (JG) Kalin Kale. The
command staff of the starship USS
Arcturus NCC-1807.
Suddenly a
bright flash appeared on the screen and a disruptor beam lashed out, striking
the President straight in the chest, throwing the Efrosian man back against the
cylindrical podium decorations. The
crowd froze in confusion, during which a second beam lanced out, striking the
new Klingon Chancellor, Azetbur. All at
once total confusion reigned as transporter beams materialized around the
room. Klingon warriors, battle ready,
surrounded the crowd. And just as
suddenly a body flew through a window from the second floor, crashing to the
ground below.
“The body
you just saw falling was that of the assassin, who turned out to be Commandant
of the Starfleet Marine Corps, Colonel West.
He was killed by one of the conveniently arriving Klingon Shock
Troopers,” Q explained. The recording ended.
“According
to this history,” Koester explained, “at the moment the Federation Council
President was assassinated, the prototype Bird-Of-Prey attacked and destroyed
the starship Arcturus. With both Gorkon and Azetbur dead, and the
Federation framed for their assassination, Chang declared himself the new
Emperor. He then tried, convicted and
terminated the Federation representatives at Khitomer for crimes against the
Empire; declared war on the Federation; and personally led a fleet of
five-hundred warships with his prototype Bird-Of-Prey.”
Everyone sat
silent for a moment. Kane looked as if
he were about to say something, until Koester spoke again.
“The war
lasted almost ten years, finally ending in the Federation’s defeat. Earth was completely destroyed purely as an
example to the other worlds, and the four remaining founding worlds were turned
into slave labor camps. The Klingons
took over, and the technology that allows cloaked ships to fire weaponry
advanced. And that’s where we stand
now.”
“But if
history changed, why are we still here?” Kane asked.
“Mister
Bloom offered a theory,” Q
replied. “When we emerged from the time
warp two days ago, we were immersed in an unusually dense chroniton particle
field. Mister Bloom believes the field
was created by our emersion into this new reality, and is what holds us in this
plane unaffected. But time’s running
out. The field is dispersing rapidly,
and will have dissipated completely within another twelve hours.”
“And when
that happens...?”
“Possibly
nothing. We may just continue to exist,
a paradox in this reality. Or... we may
simply fade away, this reality ‘consuming’ us to prevent the paradox.”
“I don’t
like either choice.”
“Neither do
I, Exec,” Koester said.
The Captain
stood. Q, Kane, and Sutherland followed his lead, and all four walked back
out onto the bridge.
“Bridge to
engineering. How’s it coming, Eng?”
After a
moment, Bloom’s steady yet frustrated sounding voice answered back, “My shield
generators were not made to be connected with this damn Klingon monstrosity,
Captain. I’ve already fried one neural
gel pack and a dozen isolinear chips!”
“Can it be
done though, Eng?”
“Yes,
Captain, but you’ll have to give me and my staff... Ow! Damn Klingon crap! You’ll have to give us time.”
“You have 5
hours, Mister Bloom. No more. Keep me informed.” Then as Koester closed the intercom, he said,
“I’m going to grab a bite to eat. Mister
Russell, you have the conn. Keep me
informed of any changes. Exec, come with
me.”
Russell
responded, “Yes, sah,” as he stepped down from ops to the command level and
took a seat in the XO’s chair. Ever
since his first day aboard, the former captain who had been busted down to
commander carefully avoided using the captain’s chair. Meanwhile, Koester and Kane entered the
turbolift.
* * * *
Crew’s mess
was almost empty due to the alert status.
Only five people were present, grabbing quick meals before returning to
their posts or their quarters to rest.
As a result, the captain and his first officer had the almost undivided
attention of Ainsley McLachlin, the ship’s civilian ‘Moral Officer.’
Koester and
Kane sat together at one table in the corner.
McLachlin brought them each their orders, a tuna sandwich and milk for
the captain, a bowl of Bajoran soup for his first officer. As the two began to eat, Koester looked up at
Kane.
“Well, Virg,
if you have any objections to my plan, now’s the time to voice them,” he said
with an inflection of humor.
“Skipper,
I’ll tell you, I’m not happy with the idea.
But like you said, we haven’t got much choice.”
The doors to
crews mess slid open and two people walked in.
The first in her usual blue-topped uniform, but with her hair hanging
loosely down her back. The other was
dressed in her nightgown, her little bare feet running over to the captain’s
table.
“Someone
wanted to say goodnight to you, Pooh,” Q
said as both walked over and Koester was suddenly caught in the tight hug of
his daughter Gem.
“Good night,
daddy,” she said.
“You should
have been asleep hours ago,” Koester mock-scolded as he returned the little
girl’s hug. Kissing her on the cheek, he
placed the young girl back down on the deck.
“So
should’ve you, Pooh,” Q scolded
meaningfully. “You’ve been up on the
bridge for thirty-six straight hours.
You need to rest too.”
“I’ll rest
when we’re back in spacedock,” Koester said while giving Gem a playful pat on
the rump to send her on her way. “And
thanks for tucking her in, Poe.”
“Go to
sleep, or I’ll sic Doc on you,” Q
said. She walked over, gave Koester a
quick hug herself, then followed Gem back out of the mess deck, saying over her
shoulder, “G’night Virg.”
“Goodnight
Commander,” Kane responded. Then to
Koester, “She’s right, you know. You
look beat.”
“I have to
see this through, Exec,” Koester countered.
“If for no other reason, than for the future of that little girl that
just walked out.” And silently Koester
continued eating his sandwich.
* * * *
The deadline
was fast approaching. Koester returned
to the bridge while Kane went to his quarters to catch a couple of hours
sleep. Another shift change occurred,
but the bridge remained quiet. Karandanz
occasionally walked the length of the aft section of the bridge, checking
monitors and readouts, constantly keeping one eye on the captain.
There were
only two hours remaining when the intercom sounded.
“Engineering
to bridge. We’re ready to test this
thing out.”
Koester, who
had started to doze, immediately returned to full consciousness.
“Very good,
“Tactical is
ready,” Karandanz reported.
Koester took
a deep breath, crossed his fingers, and said, “Engage.”
Down in main
engineering, the casing containing the cloaking device hummed to life. Bloom, coincidentally, crossed his fingers as
well.
Back on the
bridge, the crew waited. Nothing was
happening. No cloak. No bang.
Not even a fizzle. Behind the
captain, the turbolift doors swooshed open and Virgil Kane stepped out. He was about to say something to Koester when
suddenly the bridge lights dimmed and a strange hum filled the room
momentarily.
Karandanz
scanned her console quickly before reporting, “Captain, we’re cloaked!”
“Yes!”
Koester almost shouted.
“Whoa, this
is weird, Skipper. I’ve never been
aboard a cloaked ship before,” Kane commented.
“The Sarek cloaked once during the brief time
I was aboard, before we all set out on the
“I’m not
sure how long this thing’ll hold, Captain,” Bloom’s voice responded. “It’s making awfully strange popping noises.”
“Understood. Exec, take the science station. Begin computations for time warp. Mister Lenny, plot a course out of here,
maximum warp.”
“To where,
sir?” both officers asked at once.
Koester
smiled slightly as he answered, “Earth, the year 2288.”
* * * *
Several
hours later, still cloaked, the Dauntless
entered the remains of Earth’s solar system.
Kane, eventually with the help of Q,
had computed a time warp formula that would bring them to the exact moment when
the original USS Arcturus had last
been seen in the 23rd century of their own history.
“Mister
Lenny, ahead, warp factor 9,” Koester ordered.
“Engage!”
* * * *
Earth Year 2288
Captain's log, stardate 9203.2:
We have been sent on a mission to go back in
time into the late 1960's of Earth's history in order to find out more about
the mysterious Gary Seven, first
encountered by the starship Enterprise during a similar mission twenty years ago, and who has dotted history
texts ever since. We are to use the
slingshot effect to reach the twentieth century and, while there, we are to
contact Mr. Seven and gather information as to his mission and origin, as he
most undoubtedly will know ours. Also,
we have been commissioned with a general fact-finding hunt to give historians a
better view of the late twentieth century, as records of this period are
sketchy at best. Heading this part of
the expedition will be Asook Yan, the esteemed Federation historian from the
planet Aurelia, our new Records and Archives Officer.
Eric William Johnson, commanding Arcturus, out.
Admiral
Bryan Ackermann, acting-first officer of the starship Arcturus, touched a control on the arm of the command chair,
opening an intercom channel to the ready room located aft of the bridge. “Eric, the ship is ready.”
“On my way,”
replied the voice of Commodore Eric W. Johnson, the Arcturus’ commanding officer. Moments later the turbolift door on the port
side opened and Johnson stepped out, moving directly to the center seat as
Ackermann sat down nearby.
“Mister
DuLac,” Johnson commanded, “lay in the course toward Sol. Mister Kale, warp 6!”
“Course plotted,
Lord,” young Galen DuLac reported.
“Engaging
warp drive, ahead warp six,” Kale added.
* * * *
“Emerging
from time warp,” Virgil Kane shouted over the roar of the Dauntless’ protesting hull.
“I believe we’ve hit our mark exactly!”
The image on
the viewscreen cleared as the ship dropped out of warp, showing in the far-off
distance the round, bright orb of Earth.
And moving away from that orb, tiny by comparison, was the unmistakable
shape of a starship on a direct heading toward the star Sol.
“Mister
Lenny, intercept course. We need to
closely pace that ship,” Koester ordered.
“Aye, sir.”
* * * *
The journey
toward Sol was uneventful. As the crew
prepared for the time displacement, the klaxon of the red alert sounded
throughout the ship. “Ready to
accelerate to warp seven point one, sir,” helmsman Kalin Kale stated.
“Engage!”
“Warp six
point two.... Point four.... Point six....
Point eight…,” reported Kalin Kale with cool efficiency. But all eyes on the Arcturus’ bridge remained glued on the viewscreen, and the bright,
yellow sun at its center. “Six point
nine… Warp seven…” The Arcturus
started to vibrate within the gravitational stresses. “Warp seven point one...”
The Arcturus rushed almost straight toward
the sun, the speed and angle of approach causing the ship to enter a planned
time warp.
“Maintaining
warp seven point one,” Kale reported.
* * * *
“They’re
accelerating, Skipper,” Kane reported.
“Keep up
with them, Mister Lenny. Status of the
tractor beam?”
Jeffery
Bloom, who had moments before appeared out of the turbolift and taken his seat
at the engineering console after nurse-maiding the cloaking device the entire
voyage to Earth’s solar system, looked over at the captain.
“Tractor
beam powered up and standing by.”
Koester
nodded just as Kane reported, “Arcturus
has increased speed.”
“Stay with
‘em, Mister Lenny!”
“Approaching maximum gravimetric exertion,
Skipper,” Kane reported as the deck below his feet rattled and groaned.
“Spaceframe
is starting to buckle!” Ensign Shawn Natchez reported from ops.
“We weren’t
designed to undergo all these time warps in so short a period of time without
maintenance, Captain,” Bloom shouted from his own post.
“Stay with
‘em, Mister Lenny!”
* * * *
On the
screen, the disc of the sun filled the viewer.
“Approaching
breakaway point!” announced Idrisu.
“Stand by!”
Johnson shouted.
* * * *
“We are
fifty meters from Arcturus and
holding steady,” Natchez reported.
“On my mark,
activate the tractor beam!” ordered Koester.
* * * *
“Now!”
shouted Idrisu a moment later.
* * * *
“Now!” shouted Koester.
The tractor
beam almost immediately locked on to the hull of the USS Arcturus, binding the 23rd century starship to the still
invisible Dauntless. Immediately, those aboard the 24th century
vessel could hear the grinding of the hull as both gravitational and artificial
forces tried to tear her apart.
“We’re
locked on, sir!”
Koester
looked over at his First Officer.
“We’re
approaching the breakaway point, Skipper.”
“Mister
Lenny, on the Exec’s mark...”
“Aye, sir.”
* * * *
The Arcturus lurched. The eyes on almost everyone on the bridge
went wide. It was not spoken, but
everyone suddenly knew the time warp was not going as planned. Waves of colors bombarded the viewscreen. The engines groaned in protest.
“Something
is wrong!” Kale shouted. “We’re
diverging from the pre-programmed parabolic course!”
“What’s
happening?” Johnson demanded to know.
“Investigating,”
both Kale and Idrisu replied.
* * * *
“Now!” shouted Kane.
* * * *
Suddenly,
and quite unexpectedly, the entire bridge crew of the Arcturus was flung to the deck.
Alarms blared all over the ship.
And very quickly, the starship dropped out of warp. Commodore Johnson was the first to pull
himself off the deck. “Status?” he asked
of the bridge crew as a whole.
“We’ve
dropped out of the time warp,” Idrisu stated as he re-initialized his science
console.
“Where are
we?” Kale asked as he slowly retook his seat at the helm.
“When are we is more likely the proper
question,” added Ackermann.
“Unknown,”
said Idrisu. “Our warp trajectory was
somehow altered.”
“Determine
when and where we are,” Johnson ordered.
As Johnson’s
crew started the task of determining exactly when they were, an unfamiliar
spaceship slowly approached the drifting USS
Arcturus.
* * * *
The Dauntless shuddered from port to
starboard, bucking as the tractor beam released the resisting mass of the Arcturus.
“Stabilize
us, Ensign,” Koester directed at Lenny, then turned to face Kane at the science
console with a questioning look.
“We need to
drop out of warp soon,” Kane advised.
“Helm, on my mark! 3... 2...
1... Go to sublight!”
The Dauntless shuddered violently again as
it dropped back into real-space, everything not securely fastened falling to
the deck. Gradually the Intrepid-class
starship came to a halt.
“Status?”
asked Koester as he quickly moved toward the helm to look over Ensign Lenny’s
shoulder at the control indications.
“Taking
astrometric readings now,” Kane responded.
The
turbolift doors swooshed open, admitting Commander Q to the bridge. “If you’re
quite done shaking up the ship now...,” she said.
“Engineering
to bridge,” called a voice over the intercom.
“Mister Bloom, please report to main engineering.”
“Captain?”
Bloom said as he started for the lift.
“Go,”
Koester said. “Come on Exec. Where, or rather when, are we?”
A sizzling
noise drew everyone’s attention to the security/tactical post at the back
corner of the bridge. Lieutenant
Karandanz squashed out the few remaining embers with her hands as she reported,
“We just lost the cloak, sir.”
“We did it!”
shouted Kane, drawing everyone’s attention back toward the science
console. “According to our readings,
we’re in mid-2372!”
“But did we
do it?” Lenny asked, a
sentiment shared silently by all the crew on the bridge, when Ensign Natchez
reacted to an indication on his panel.
“Captain,
we’re being hailed,” he said. “...By
Starfleet Command!”
A cheer rose
up on the bridge, and Koester and Kane smiled at one another.
“Good work,
Exec. Well done, all of you,” Koester
added.
* * * *
Captain’s log, stardate 49523.1:
According to historical records, the Arcturus arrived exactly when they were supposed to,
in early 2367, where they were intercepted by the USS Surak II, thus restoring the proper, familiar
timeline, and taking their proper places in history. All is finally right.
Meanwhile, in our own proper year, we have
pulled into drydock at Earth Station McKinley to repair the minor structural damage inflicted by our numerous recent
time warps. Ship and crew are nearly
ready for our next big assignment, our official commissioning, which will take
place at starbase Deep Space Nine. While there, we expect to be assigned the
remainder of our new crew members, including a qualified Chief Petty Officer to
fill the still vacant position of Command Master Chief.
I can fortunately say there has only been one
casualty of our little adventure.
Koester, out.
Captain
Koester and Lieutenant Kane watched as Jeff Bloom examined the remains of the
alternate reality’s Klingon cloaking device.
“It’s a
total loss,” Bloom reported. “All the
circuitry is fried. The damper coils are
shot. Wiring is non-existent. Basically speaking... it’s kaput.”
“Well, it
worked when we needed it,” Koester said philosophically. “It’s too bad though. Imagine what we could have learned from it
technologically. I suppose you’d like to
remove it from the engine room?”
“With all
possible haste,” Bloom responded, then motioned for a couple of his engineers
to lend a hand disconnecting the alien device.
The captain and his first officer watched dispassionately for a moment,
then started to walk out of engineering.
“So, what
are your plans for tonight, Skipper?” Kane asked, trying to strike up a conversation. “Are you and Commander Q having dinner as usual?”
“Don’t I
wish!” Koester exclaimed. “No, I have an
appointment with Temporal Investigations.
I have to try and explain this whole mess.”
“Ouch!” Kane
said in sympathy. “I don’t think you really
have to worry though. It wasn’t our
fault.”
“Exec, as
far as Temporal Investigations is concerned, everything is always ‘our’ fault.”
The two
officers neared a turbolift entrance and Koester touched the call button.
“When do you
have to meet with them?” Kane asked as the door opened with a swish and Koester
stepped inside.
“1800
hours,” Koester replied. “And you know I
have to be.... on time.”
The End
Return to 2372.
Return to Stories Archive.