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.
On the screen, the
disc of the sun filled the viewer.
“Approaching breakaway
point!” announced Idrisu.
“Stand by!” Johnson
shouted.
“Now!” shouted Idrisu
a moment later.
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.
Space, the Final Frontier…
These are the voyages of the starship Arcturus!
Star Trek: Arcturus
“…Where Change is the Only Constant – Part 2”
By John Colagioia
“We’re diverging from
the pre-programmed parabolic course!” Kale shouted.
“What’s happening?”
Johnson demanded to know.
“Investigating,” both
Kale and Idrisu replied. 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. “Have we
overshot our mark to the past?”
“Odd sensor readings,
sir, the sensor data does not conform to what it should be at our target point
in the time-space continuum, according to our computer’s calculations,” Idrisu
noted.
“Mister Kale, take us
into Earth orbit. We’ll figure out
what’s going on once we enter orbit and can take a moment to figure things
out.”
Several minutes later,
Kale reported, “Approaching Earth, sir.”
“Sensors indicate
several starships and facilities in orbit,” Idrisu added.
“That can’t be right!”
Ackermann barked, “Routine space travel wasn’t even a possibility in the 1960’s.”
“Sir,” Idrisu
interjected, “it appears that we are on approach to Earth Spacedock. There are two starships approaching us at full
impulse with shields raised and weapons armed.”
“Hail them! Starfleet emergency frequency 4… Let’s
identify ourselves, Mister Fil.”
“Aye, sir. Hailing on emergency frequency 4... This is the Federation starship USS Arcturus on approach to Earth orbit. Please respond.” The Catullan communications specialist Penji
Fil listened closely through the receiver in his ear for several seconds. Finally he looked over at Johnson and reported,
“No reply, sir.”
“Tactical display, Mister
DuLac! Shields up!”
“Aye, Lord. Tactical display, shields up.”
On the screen appeared
the icons of three ships, the Arcturus
at the center with a ship of at least twice the size on either side, coming
closer and closer.
“Commodore, we’re now
being hailed,” reported Fil.
“On screen, Mister
Fil.” A moment later a Vulcan man wearing
a uniform none of the Arcturus crew
had ever seen before, yet still distinctly Starfleet, appeared on the
viewscreen.
“USS Arcturus, this is Captain Stark of the USS Surak II. Although
hostilities appeared imminent due to the sudden and unexpected arrival of your
vessel, we have noted your ship’s configuration and your identity, despite the
temporal ramifications. As illogical as
your presence may seem...we are all very fortunate indeed this day. Reverse course toward
A wave of confusion
swept the bridge. “Temporal ramifications?”
Johnson immediately ordered a meeting of the command staff, Chief
Psychiatrist Ian Valtirr, and Asook Yan right there on the bridge.
“What the hell is
going on here?!?” Johnson demanded to know.
“We head for the late twentieth century and end up eighty years ahead of our starting point?? What happened?!? I want answers, Mr. Idrisu!”
“Well, if Mister Gary
Seven’s superiors had transporters that could successfully beam a person over
one thousand light years distance during the twentieth century, it does stand
to reason that – three centuries later – they a) would like to keep a low
profile and b) would have the ability to keep us from learning about them,
using any methods necessary, which may explain that out-of-place light flash
toward the end. Therefore, if they
wanted to keep us from learning about them by going into the past, it makes
sense that they would turn us around chronologically, not location-wise, so as
not to damage the ship. If this were the
case, it would explain not only that flash, but also our apparent ‘disappearance’
for those seventy-nine years.”
“If such an incident
has occurred, simply reverse it,” Baael V’ahhst-Ohhrne’Dagon, the Arcturus’ Efrosian Chief Science Officer
suggested.
“Yes, but if, in this
time period, they know us as having been lost nearly eighty years ago and
events progressed in the Federation’s favor during those eighty years, then we
may cause irreparable damage by returning,” the until-now silent Asook Yan
rebutted in her beautiful melodic voice.
“In any event, with your permission, sir, I would wish to stay here no
matter what decision is made for the ship.”
“Why?” Johnson
inquired.
“Because, then
Starfleet will most likely allow me access to current history files so I can
determine the potential effects of your returning to the twenty-third century,”
she answered.
“In that case, if that
is your wish, permission granted.”
“If we remain, we may
cause irreparable damage to the crew,”
Baael warned.
“That’s why I’m
assigning both Doctor Valtirr and Asook Yan to determine what the effects would
be of either our staying here or returning...” Johnson began to order, then
froze. Concern for other personnel? Baael?? And just where was Ian Valtirr?? “Ms. Yan, you’re going to research what would
happen if we were to go back!” he barked.
“Now where in hell…?”
The communications
panel shrieked. “Commodore, this is T’Sendra. Doctor Ian Valtirr and Science Specialist
Iona Hanlon are in sickbay. The
Psychiatrist is in guarded condition; the specialist, critical.”
“What happened??”
“I suspect that it is
linked to all Deltans’ psionic rapport with their families. I felt a similar wrenching, but compensated. Plus, since Vulcans possess a longer
lifespan, I and the other Vulcans are not as likely to have suffered the same
loss.”
“Loss?” It still had not yet dawned on the
Commodore. T’Sendra knew she would have
to be brutally frank.
“Commodore Johnson,
most of us will never see our families again.
They are now deceased or irrevocably altered.”
Eric Johnson’s throat
began to ache. Oh, he might not have
been so close to his family, but to realize that all of his contemporary relatives
were now dead! And what about Caitians, a race of felinoids
who could not tolerate separation from other Caitians for any length of
time? Or the Deltans, whose very minds
were linked with those they loved!
“Mr. Idrisu, begin
calculation on the new warp equation to get us home immediately! I’ll be in sickbay.”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
Idrisu shouted in his most melodramatic imitation of a Marine in an almost
successful attempt to alleviate some of the tension in the room.
Johnson halted in
mid-stride. “Wait a minute. You’re a Deltan, why weren’t you affected??” he demanded of Idrisu.
“Simple, sir,” Idrisu
replied. “My family moved quite a
bit. We just didn’t have time to
establish the usual bonds. To be honest,
I didn’t even notice.”
“All right. Mister Timinar, Mister Lithir, prepare an
engineering status report,” he called into the intercom.
“We already have one
in progress, sir,” Chief Engineer Peter Timinar replied.
“Excellent. The rest of you, adjourn to the briefing room
immediately.”
As the rest of the
command staff headed for the briefing room, Johnson made his destination the
starship’s sickbay. Just as Johnson arrived in sickbay, Doctor Valtirr began
to stir.
“Ian?? Will you be all right?!?”
The Psychiatrist
moaned softly. “I...I have to be, sir...this ship is
going...to need...me...the... repercussions...Galen...Baael...M’Rakshasa...M’rrastach...Iona...check
Iona...
Johnson whirled
around, his old medical training kicking in.
Iona Hanlon’s readings were nothing short of horrible! What was worse, her physical readings were almost acceptable. It appeared that Hanlon had simply lost the
will to live! The ravishing young woman’s
eyes fluttered open. Tears streamed from
them.
“Mother…! Mother…!
Don’t leave me… Father…! Please…!
I need you so much… I love you! Don’t go!
Take me, Mama, Papa…!” Slowly,
Hanlon’s eyes closed and her head slumped to the right. The readings displayed on the indicator panel
dropped to nil.
“I grieve with thee,”
intoned T’Sendra softly. Johnson could
only nod once.
“She was so…,” he
began.
“...Understood.” The Ton
Shi gently massaged both Johnson’s shoulder and his mind, absorbing some of
his pain.
* * *
Over the course of the
next several days, several teams from the Surak
II came aboard, consisting mainly of doctors and counselors that would
interview the Arcturus crew before
they returned to Earth to determine which were more likely to have problems
coping with the sudden change they now faced.
It was nearly a week before the Arcturus,
still under escort, returned to spacedock orbiting Earth.
Before docking,
Commodore Johnson was informed his entire crew was to be granted 30 days leave,
during which they were encouraged to find whatever surviving family members
they could and decide whether they wished to remain in Starfleet or transition
to civilian life. Just prior to docking,
Johnson called one final meeting of the command staff in the briefing room, including
Asook Yan and a nearly-recovered Dr. Valtirr.
“I have been working
with several prominent historians aboard the Surak during the time the ship has remained under quarantine,” Yan
reported. “Based on history as it has
unfolded over the past eighty years, and using statistical analysis and
computer modeling, I have calculated with relative certainty that – were the Arcturus to return to its proper era and
point of origin – untold diplomatic chaos would be unleashed.”
“Why?” was the general
response.
“Because there is one
man on this ship who possesses the potential to have undermined what would
become a vital alliance that the Federation has established during the last
three-quarters of a century if he were to be present in that time period. I cannot yet tell you with which race at this
time. That bit of information has been
temporarily classified from you.”
“Are we allowed to
know which crewman?” Johnson demanded evenly.
“Petty Officer John O’Brien,”
Yan responded, the feathers on her shoulders ruffling so as to stand on end, a
mild disgust barely concealed in her voice.
“Commodore! Request permission to toss out the trash? Let’s throw the garbage out through the
airlock and just go home,” shouted Security Chief David Maddox.
“Permission
denied...reluctantly. Right now, we need
to learn exactly what has happened in these last eighty years,” responded the
Commodore.
“Commodore, does this
mean we’re staying?” inquired Admiral Ackermann.
“If O’Brien and his fledgling
Back-to-Earth movement could become responsible for harming the United
Federation of Planets in any way, we must.
Ian, what have you determined?”
“Eric, we are more
fortunate than we should be. I have reviewed
the medical files of each surviving crew member and have determined that not
many of the crew would develop any major psychological problems as a result of
this displacement in time. Of those that
would, I’ve already begun working with them, in conjunction with the counselors
sent over by the Surak. We have, in fact, some crew members who may
actually thrive in this new setting,” Valtirr replied, somewhat
sheepishly. His collapse right after the
time warp had been quite an embarrassment to him.
“Then we are fortunate
indeed,” Johnson gratefully. “It would
appear as if we’re going to stay in this era.”
* * *
Several hours later,
the Arcturus moored inside
spacedock. Upon being informed by
Commodore Johnson that the crew had agreed to remain in the 24th
century, Starfleet Command dispatched a team of six personnel, who would
present a hastily-prepared synopsis of the last seventy-nine years of Federation
history to the starship’s command staff in the hopes it would be the first step
in helping the entire crew adjust to their new time period.
“We’re allied with WHO?!?” Maddox bellowed.
“Yes, the Klingons are
now our allies, Mister Maddox,” responded one of the stuffier briefing team
members. “Now please return yourself to
your seat and be silent.”
The visiting team
continued with their brief, which lasted the better part of an hour and still
only scratched the surface of everything the Arcturus crew had missed by jumping past more than three-quarters
of a century. “Knowing this, all crewmen
on board will have the option of either staying in Starfleet, or resigning and
returning to civilian life. Retraining
and placement in either case will, of course, be provided,” another team member
explained.
After answering
various, basic questions, the team left and Johnson dismissed most of the Arcturus command staff, leaving only
Baael, Ackermann, and Johnson himself behind.
“Captain, you may have
noted the fact that the team did not even offer to us the option of return,”
Baael commented, pausing before continuing.
“You may also have noted that by not returning, we are short numerous
crew members who were left behind, including our entire Marine contingent and at
least two senior officers.”
“Missing office… Copeland!
…and Solak!” Johnson remembered his
Vulcan operations officer taking shore leave for the first time in his career
as the Arcturus prepared for its
mission back through time. And Copeland… Well, while Johnson felt sad for losing him,
was not really too displeased that he had side-stepped this thorn in his side.
Baael only nodded in
response...solemnly. Again Baael was showing emotion at the
prospective loss of a crewman. What had
gotten into the normally anti-social Efrosian??
To Be
Continued…
Return to 2369.
Return to Stories Archive.