[ Act One ]
“… And the final scans indicate no residual subdermal damages or radiation poisoning. We’ve regenerated as much of the surface tissues as possible given the limitations and restrictions you and your people have asked to impose on all treatments. We’ve eliminated the plasma contamination of your muscle and inner organ tissues. From a medical perspective you are ready to be released.” The Klingon female dismissed the holographic display next to the biobed that showed Jeffrey a list of treatments he had received in the last two and a half days.
“Thank you, 112.” Jeffrey replied with a soft nod.
“While we respect your wishes and treat you accordingly, we want you to understand that if you ever changed your disposition to nanoprobe injections we could restore your lost arm with full functionality in less than one week.” 112@241 added, her organic eye looking sadly at the dark-skinned Human’s arm stump just below his right shoulder.
The plasma fire had almost completely consumed Jeffrey’s right arm, inflicting damage that went beyond fourth degree. When he had arrived in one of the sphere’s many medical facilities he was undergoing an acute case of SIRS because of the extensive burns he had suffered. The Synergy’s medical adjuncts did what they could under the requirement of not using any kind of nanites in the process, but his extremity was beyond saving, and its charred remains could only be amputated to prevent further complications and infections.
“I know, Sorowa. But for now, I just can’t make that choice. I hope you can understand that.”
The Klingon shook her head, sending her now freed wallowing mane of black curls flying. “No, we don’t understand it, Jeffrey. But we will respect your decision.” She paused, looking at her patient with a serious expression for a few seconds before her dark lips curled up in a smile. “And it gives us the opportunity to present you with a gift.”
“A… gift?” The Sidereal’s counselor mused with a raised eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
Suddenly another medical adjunct walked towards the biobed Jeffrey was sitting on, and wordlessly handed Sorowa a white medical equipment case. His timing was impeccable, and his movement as if orchestrated by an invisible maestro. The box was about eighty centimeters wide and thirty centimeters each tall and deep, with softly rounded corners and a thick rubbery texture allowing for save and easy handling. The Klingon easily handled the case and placed it on the biobed next to his body.
“I’ve modified one of our cybernetic arms to serve as an external prosthesis.” She released the safety clamps and flipped the case’s lid open, revealing a mechanical arm made of a dull brushed silvery metal. On top of it was a strapped harness, which 112@241 picked up and held out for Jeffrey to see. “Instead of connecting to an implant socket, it will attach to this sleeve with gravimetric locks. And instead of directly interfacing with your nervous system, it will utilize a bioelectric induction field to read and stimulate the nerves in the stump.”
The Junior Lieutenant wordlessly stared at the harness and the mechanical arm, then looked at Sorowa’s smiling face as she continued explaining the device. He wouldn’t have expected anything like this, that the Synergy would go out of its way to accommodate his lost arm.
“It will not feel quite as natural as a normal cybernetic implant would feel, and the sleeve doesn’t provide a mounting point sufficient for heavy lifting, but this prosthesis should still allow you to participate in normal activities without significant disadvantages.”
“I don’t know what to say…”
“How about, ‘let’s put it on?’” Sorowa replied with an infectious smile.
Jeffrey started to smile now as well. “Okay, let’s try it.” He quickly pulled the simple white t-shirt over his head, exposing his muscular chest.
112@241 stepped closer, the sleeve and harness in hand. Carefully she placed the sleeve around the stump of his arm. Once it was in place, she attached the harness and wrapped the straps over his shoulder and around his chest, firmly securing the extension in place. Lastly, she used a macrospanner to tighten the fabrics, so the sleeve couldn’t wiggle or twist on the stump.
“Almost ready…” she breathed softly, putting the tool away and reaching for the prosthesis. “I’ll let you put it on yourself so that you learn how to use it.”
Jeffrey took the mechanical arm from Sorowa, feeling its cool smooth metal for the first time. Following the patient guidance of his Klingon doctor, he placed the arm against the sleeve.
“And now just move it a little. You should feel a tugging and twisting. These are the gravimetric locks seeking each other out. Just let them snap into place… Perfect. To release the locks, you only need to press here and here, then pull it straight away before releasing the pressure. Try it a few times. I want to be sure you can handle attaching and removing the arm.”
With a wry smile Jeffrey removed and added the prosthesis a few times. After a few minutes of doing this, under the scrutinizing but friendly gaze of 112@241 he wondered. “And how do I switch it on?”
“Like this.” Sorowa replied with a chuckle and pressed her finger against a contact in crook of the mechanical arm.
Jeffrey wanted to shot back a retort, but his eyes went wide when he suddenly felt the arm. He could feel its weight, its size, its muscles. He stared at the attachment and his eyes went wide when he imagined moving the fingers and they immediately followed his request. He repeatedly clenched the fingers, then carefully moved the wrist. As he discovered that he could control the prosthesis almost completely normally, his expression changed from astonishment to sincere happiness.
The Klingon medic stood a few steps back and watched Jeffrey experiment with his new arm. A satisfied smile adorned her lips, knowing that the prosthesis would make her patient happy and improve his condition significantly. She mentally extended her gratitude to her colleagues who had suggested modifying the implant accordingly.
“This is amazing!” Jeffrey exclaimed and hopped off the biobed, trying out a larger range of motion with his replacement arm.
“We are glad you are satisfied with the prosthesis. As for cleaning, it’s self-maintaining and can be worn in the hygiene units without problem. If you have any issues or more questions regarding it, please don’t hesitate to contact us.”
He turned around to face Sorowa again, and in utter happiness simply hugged her. “Thank you, 112. Thank you so much. I don’t know what to say.”
His move had taken her by surprise, but she quickly returned the hug and responded with a warm smile. “You’re welcome.”
The Junior Lieutenant eventually released the Klingon woman from his embrace, and quickly took a step back after realizing what he had done. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mea-”
“Don’t worry, it’s okay.” Sorowa cut him off, dispersing his fear of having offended her with his hug. “I guess this is all we can do for you at present. If you want, I can return you now to your people. I’m sure they are already awaiting your return.”
Jeffrey nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I think it’s time to get back to them. There’s probably already a ton of work waiting for me to arrive.” He slipped his t-shirt back on, and pulled it taunt over his muscles and the straps of the prosthesis’s harness. It would take some time getting used to the additional tension and material on his skin, but he was confident that he would manage quite quickly.
“But before we go I have one request. Could I please talk to the individual I body checked two days ago?”
112@241 raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Without any further comment or words, another individual approached. It was an apparently relatively young male Vidiian with several visible implants and their species’ typical eyebrow-less enlarged forehead and slight ridge. The man looked at Jeffrey, a carefully curious expression on his face. “Medical node attachment 99@744 reporting as requested.”
Jeffrey faced the Vidiian, his eyes growing wide in surprise when he noticed and matched the facial features. Eventually, he smiled softly and extended his right hand towards 99@744. “I want to apologize for attacking you. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
The Synergy member looked at the Human’s hand, then back at his face. After a moment of silence, the cyborg moved his own arm and took Jeffrey’s hand. “The incident did not inflict any harm on us, neither did it cause us any injuries. You were in an acute state of panic and your behavior was governed by a normal fight-or-flight response induced by the massive stress of the situation. Therefore, an apology is not required, but we do greatly appreciate the gesture. Thank you.”
Jeffrey and 99@744 shook hands for a few seconds, and the Junior Lieutenant was glad his apology was accepted. Inside he was ashamed of his behavior, and the medically perfectly accurate justification 99@744 had given didn’t really help to alleviate the twang of guilt nagging at Jeffrey. He had attacked those that tried to help him. He thought they would harm him, when they were doing their best to rescue him. He would need to carefully think about the situation, and how it had felt back then and now. He was sure that with careful study, he would be able to learn a great thing or two from this mess.
Eventually they released their hands, and 99@744 returned to his duties inside the sphere’s sickbay. “Ready?” Sorowa smiled at Jeffrey, who expectantly nodded after a second of hesitation. “Initiating dimensional shift.” For a moment the dark-skinned Human was shrouded in the ravaging vortex of the dimensional pocket, and after a quick blur he suddenly stood in a massive cargo bay, with sets of one- and two-story buildings behind groups of long tables.
He appeared in the dimensional shift’s signature bright blue-white flash, and Jeffrey curiously watched the dissipating cloud of particles fade away in the wake of the subspace pocket’s collapse.
“Jeffrey?”
The Junior Lieutenant turned to face the group of Starfleet officers sitting at the far end of the nearby long table, who were all looking in his direction. They had been sitting there and enjoyed a kinda late breakfast, when suddenly the translocation flash interrupted them. One of the people at the table suddenly jumped from her seat and charged at Jeffrey. A one meter and sixty-five centimeters tall blur of sand-colored fur stuffed into a Starfleet duty uniform raced across the open space towards him and jumped into his arms.
“Jeffrey! You’re back! How are you?!” Shori squealed out of pure happiness to see one of her severely wounded colleagues healed up and back in action.
The Caitian was much lighter than Jeffrey, but her momentum still made him stumble back a few meters and turn around his axis, while he struggled with the quirky ball of fur that was hugging him fiercely and playfully. Eventually she dropped back to her own feet and held him at arm’s length. Her large eyes mustered him closely, paying special attention to the slightly worn skin of his face. “How do you feel? Are you okay?”
But before he could answer, Shori’s gaze dropped and she noticed the mechanical arm. In the blink of an eye, as if his skin had suddenly turned as hot as flames, she let go of him and stepped back, her eyes turning wider and staring at the prosthesis. “Jeffrey…?”
“Relax, Shori. Everything’s okay. It’s not an implant, calm down.” He pointed out the straps of the harness slightly visible through his shirt’s fabric. “There, these are the straps holding it in place. I can even remove it if you want.”
The Caitian took a deep breath and the worry disappeared from her face. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry. We were just so worried about you, and the others. They really couldn’t save or restore your arm?”
The muscular Human sadly shook his head. “No. There was nothing left of my arm to save anyway. When I asked to see it, they did show me. There was little left but a lump of charred and irradiated bone. The question was not whether to amputate, but when and where.” A soft smile appeared on his lips. “They crafted this prosthesis specifically for me. Sorowa and her colleagues used one of their regular cybernetic arms as a base and modified it to work without nanites or implants.”
By now the remaining officers from the table had also arrived, and a small circle gathered around their counselor as he was eagerly welcomed back by his colleagues. Many hugs and handshakes were exchanged, and Jeffrey was happily welcomed back into the small circle of active crew.
“You’re probably starving! I’ll show you how to work this fabricator technology the Synergy is using. It’s almost like our replicators, but a little bit different. It’ll also provide you with your uniforms. Niko had our uniform patterns scanned and imported as templates, and we’re supposed to wear our duty dress during standard hours.” Shori explained as they all walked back to the table, where the others continued with their breakfast. She then quickly continued with a hearty laugh. “And a word of warning: Rel is running a really mean mandatory PT three times a week. I’m still feeling my thighs from yesterday, and I’m not really enthusiastic about tomorrow.”
Jeffrey let out a chuckle. “You know I actually like Rel’s group drills. Seeing the whole crew doing something positive together, be it exercising, hiking, cooking, or something else, is always a good thing in my book. So, thanks for giving me something to look forward to, after seeing nothing but sickbay for almost two days.”
Shori groaned and quipped playfully. “Of course, you do, how could I forget that? Anyway, come, I’ll show you the fabricators. But don’t get your hopes up high, they have a very limited selection of food. Some of us tried teaching this thing new recipes, but with mixed results. You cannot imagine how difficult and frustrating it is to try and describe scrambled eggs with bacon if the computer has no idea what a chicken egg is.”
The counselor let out a loud laugh at the absurdity of what Shori described, just imagining how difficult many, if not all, of the more advanced recipes must be to implement in this technology. Maybe they could import their database somehow and make the molecular patterns directly available? As he was thinking about it, he started to wonder why nobody had done that yet. As far as he was aware of, the Sidereal’s computer core was relatively intact.
Once they arrived at the fabricator columns, he voiced his idea. “Our computer core survived our ordeal intact, right? So why haven’t we imported the database of the stored recipes yet? If we give this thing the molecular structures it should be able to work with that, right?”
Shori casually leaned against the column and crossed her arms, gently shaking her head. “The captain has ordered nobody to even think about anything like that. For now, our memory banks are locked down, since they seem to be one of our biggest bargaining chips. Apparently, the Borg wiped out almost all cultural information about the species they assimilated if it wasn’t a tactical concern. The historical and cultural data stored in the Sidereal’s systems is invaluable to the Synergy, and we shouldn’t be giving up this advantage too easily.”
Jeffrey looked at his Caitian colleague and contemplated her words for a moment. This was a new and quite curious bit of information, he wondered how this bargaining idea would play out. But for the moment he decided to shift his focus towards the fabricator interface and direct his efforts to getting a nice breakfast.
----------------------------------------
[ Act Two ]
Assembly hall two was packed to capacity. The huge dome shaped room had seats for 1,200 guests, but today the massive crow of people occupying the chamber easily reached that number. All kinds of species were present, and people were standing in the back and on the balconies, with the queues even reaching to the doors. The hall was part of the underground complex of Starfleet Command, and usually housed scientific speakers, diplomatic gatherings, or interstellar conferences. But today it would house the memorial service for the crew of the USS Sidereal.
Mike Thompson looked around the massive hall and watched the sea of gray and white Starfleet dress uniforms, interspersed with islands of black and dark gray civilian clothing. Dozens of high-ranking Starfleet officials, the surviving 400 Sidereal crew members, the families and close relatives of the fallen, as well as diplomatic delegations from the worlds of the killed officers filled the auditorium to its brim. Even the Klingon ambassador was present, even though the Empire had not lost a son or daughter in this tragedy.
Mike had received the message from Neila one week ago, and the news had shocked him to the core. Even now, amidst the gathering, just a few minutes before the start of the service, he still couldn’t really believe it. During his time as a doctor in Starfleet he had seen his share of tragedy and death, of pain and suffering, but nothing had hit so close to home like Sina’s death. The elderly man let out a soft sigh and ran his hand through his short cut light gray hair, as he slowly shuffled towards his seat. Old age was taking a larger toll on him, and so he had to use a walking cane made from brushed metal to help his eighty-four years old legs carry him.
A soft, but clearly audible ring echoed through the hall, indicating for everyone to take their seats. Mike slowly walked towards his seat and sat down, the fabric of his old uniform rustling softly. He looked at the black, worn skin of his hands holding his cane, his fingers trembling slightly around the brushed metal. He had retired over a decade ago, his personal health no longer allowing him to be an active doctor on board a starship or space station. He had to return his Commander pips but could keep his uniforms.
He looked down the gray and white long jacket of his old uniform, still a bit surprised he had fit into it without much ordeal. Then his gaze wandered to the black brassard on his right arm. It was a simple black armlet that connected to the single shoulder strap. The dull fabric was imprinted with the down-facing white silhouette of an Akira class and five simple digits. “69765,” the Sidereal’s registry number. All members of Starfleet in the hall wore this brassard, as a sign of their shared grief and respect.
Looking to his left, he saw Captain Gallagher and Admiral Yadav about twenty seats away one row in front of him. They had met before coming here together. It had been difficult, for all three of them. Sina’s death had taken a terrible toll on Neila, and she was but a shadow of her former self. Mike was really worried for her and had promised to stay a while on Earth after the service. He could only imagine how hard it must be for the elderly Captain to have lost her only child.
A few minutes later another ring sounded. A door leading onto the assembly hall’s stage opened, and Starfleet’s current chief of staff entered the speaking area. The Efrosian Fleet Admiral Xas Ra-Miyantoss wore his white-gray dress uniform with stoic dignity, exuding an aura of solemn duty as he approached the lectern on the raised platform in the dome’s center, carrying a case in his left hand and a PADD in his right. Mike could see that the Fleet Admiral’s steps were deliberate and heavy, burdened by the task he had to perform.
The Efrosian had reached the slim desk and placed the PADD on it and the case carefully on the ground in front of his feet. Xas took a deep breath, his orange skin glistening softly in the hall’s bright lighting, while the thick braids of his strikingly white hair fell around his shoulders. He closed his eyes for a moment, then tapped the button to switch on the microphones.
“A Human poet once said, ‘Music is the literature of the heart; it commences where speech ends.’ And I think no speech could capture how most of us feel today.”
Without further words Admiral Ra-Miyantoss leaned down to the case and opened it, revealing an Efrosian light harp. He picked up the exotic instrument and folded its arms open. Immediately the holographic strings sprang into existence and softly illuminated the Fleet Admiral’s uniform in a prismatic glow. The Fleet Admiral held the instrument against his shoulder and began to play.
In the absolute silence of the great chamber, the sad beautiful tunes of the melody echoed hauntingly. The low notes reverberated across the hall’s dome like distant thunder, and the high notes sounded clear like the ringing of a bell. The Admiral played with closed eyes, his fingers finding his instrument’s projected strings without fault. He was committed to playing the light harp like he was committed to Starfleet - without fault and without compromise.
It wasn’t long into the performance when many people started to recognize the melody. It was the tune passed on by Captain Picard, which he had learned from the Kataan probe’s ancestor simulation. It embodied the desire and hope of that long-gone civilization to be remembered after their sun went nova. And today it embodied the remembrance of the Sidereal’s lost crew, their lives and deeds. This simple tune, created over a millennium ago, now moved thousands of people to tears as they listened to its notes echoing across assembly hall two.
A few minutes later Xas finished his performance, his left cheek stained by the trail of a single tear. He folded his instrument and put it back in its case. There were only a few faces in the audience whose eyes had remained dry. When he began speaking again, his voice was audibly trembling.
“Honored guests, colleagues, friends.
We’ve gathered here today to remember the lives and deeds of the crew of the USS Sidereal, who was lost in the line of duty on stardate 88299.3. The loss of those eighty-two lives is truly a tragedy and a devastating blow for all of us. All those gathered here today have lost family or friends or colleagues and are searching for answers and closure. I hope we can find some of the latter, because I know there is never an easy or simple answer to the question ‘Why?’
When traveling in our starships we often think that we know so much about our galaxy that there was no risk anymore. We think that since we have learned to harness the powers of antimatter and subspace we can go where we please and do how we please. We think that our endeavors in all four quadrants have given us enough understanding of the possible and impossible. But the Sidereal’s destruction painfully reminded us about how little we really know about the universe.
The crew made absolutely no mistakes. The route they were traveling was well known, and well charted. And still, in all but a few minutes they were gone without a chance to save themselves. Once again, the universe reminded us that we take a gamble every time we leave our homeworlds. That we challenge fate every time we board a starship. That we dare to pry knowledge out of the universe’s hands every time we go to warp.
Ex astris, scientia. From the stars, knowledge. This is the motto every Cadet subscribes to when joining Starfleet Academy. It embodies our desire to understand and learn, to grow as people, and as societies to become more than the sum of our parts. It becomes manifest in all Starfleet missions we send out to discover new life and civilizations, to explore the yet unexplored, and to help others that are in need.
For all space-faring species the road to the stars has been dangerous and laborious. Almost exactly four and a half centuries ago the Humans started sending their first astronauts into space in a time of political turmoil and conflict. Those daring explorers rode chemical booster rockets to orbit, with little, if any, safeties. During the following decades hundreds died in the pursuit of those early missions, both in flight and on the ground, with disasters and accidents striking every couple of years. But the Human drive for discovery and exploration could never be quenched. No matter how terrible the setbacks were, they kept pushing onward against all odds.
Ad astra per aspera. To the stars through hardship. That became the phrase with which those were honored who had sacrificed so much in the pursuit of the exploration of space. And that should be the motto by which we remember the crew of the USS Sidereal. They as well kept pushing onward against all odds, no matter the challenges they faced.
The Sidereal’s last mission is but one example of many. They responded to a distress call from the Federation colony on Szaris III-A. What at first seemed to be a simple relieve effort delivery, quickly turned into a race against time to prevent the deaths of over 80,000 civilians. Even though the situation would have required significantly more ships than a single Akira class, Commander Gallagher-D’raxis sent a request for backup and immediately went to work with her crew to find a way to save the colonists.
The crew of the Sidereal went above and beyond the call in their efforts on Szaris III-A. And while in the end it wasn’t necessary to put their devised plan to the test, the dedication, passion, and professionalism with which the crew conducted itself during this time of stress should be an inspiration to all of us. They never wavered in the face of the challenge ahead. They never questioned their abilities or doubted their colleagues. Their work during that crisis was exemplary.
The loss of a close friend or loved one is always painful, but we should try to remember the crew of the Sidereal as people who made the galaxy a better place. We should be thankful that we had the opportunity to know those inspiring individuals and learn from their lives and deeds.”
The Fleet Admiral took a deep breath and looked once more around the chamber before he continued with the final part of the ceremony.
“Please rise now to commemorate the names of the fallen.”
Xas waited until most of the guests had risen from their seats. He tapped a button on the speaker’s control panel to dim the lights in the assembly hall and cast it in dark shadows, before he started reading out the names of the lost crew. As he deliberately spoke each name, a large holographic image of that individual appeared over the speaker’s platform. When the next name came up, the previous image however didn’t disappear, but faded into the background instead.
“Commander Sina Phaio Gallagher-D’raxis.
Lieutenant Commander Niko Heisenberg.
Lieutenant Co-Yor-Turi-Kalur.
Lieutenant Shori M’Tiras.
Lieutenant Rel Neirrek.
Lieutenant Junior Grade Jeffrey Brassfield.
Lieutenant Junior Grade Duncan Clark.
Lieutenant Junior Grade T’Sai.
Lieutenant Junior Grade Vossler.
Ensign Visra Arsiv.
Ensign Shrass Th’akianas.
Ensign Noriko Yamada.
…”
Xas continued reading all eighty-two names without mispronouncing or slipping even once. Once he had finished reading all names, the projection would show an image of the fallen standing as a group in the gardens of Starfleet Command, united one final time. Eventually that image faded and was replaced with the image of a large standing stone made from polished black marble. The stone was engraved with the Sidereal’s silhouette, name, and registry number, followed by the group image, the list of all names, and a list of successful missions and milestones in the crew’s records.
“Following the tradition of Starfleet, we’ve created a memorial in the gardens outside as a testimony to the lost crew’s deeds. Their names shall always be remembered. Please feel free to visit the memorial at your convenience and pay respect to the fallen.”
Fleet Admiral Ra-Miyantoss restored the chamber’s lights.
“Thank you all for attending this memorial service. Please take care.”
He picked up his PADD and the instrument case, and quickly walked towards the very door through which he came. His steps now were much less certain and deliberate than twenty minutes ago, and his cheeks were visibly wet.
Mike was still sitting on his seat while the crowd around him dispersed slowly. His eyes were stinging from the tears slowly trickling down his cheeks, and his hands holding the walking cane shook slightly. While the Fleet Admiral had been reading the names, Mike’s memories had taken him back twenty-five years to Starbase 39-Sierra. He had been the station’s CMO back then, and he was the first to treat the little Romulan orphan girl sitting alone on a biobed in sickbay, violently coughing and shaking from a Terothka virus infection.
He remembered clearly as if it had been yesterday the fearful expression on the famished refugee’s face, and the terrified look in her eyes. Mike vividly recalled the arguments he had had those days with his spouse about his idea, but eventually his then-wife relented and agreed to his plan. Once it was ascertained that the girl’s sickness wasn’t infectious any longer, he gave Sina a room in his quarters instead of letting her stay alone in sickbay. Only three weeks later the USS Goddard docked at the station and her first officer, Neila Gallagher, immediately took pity with the girl.
Ever since Neila had adopted Sina and brought her to Earth, they had stayed in contact. The fate of the little girl had brought an unlikely group of people together, and Neila, Hannah, and Mike had regularly exchanged messages about Sina’s recovery and her growing up. They had even all managed to attend her graduation ceremony from Starfleet Academy. And now they came together again for her funeral.
Mike wiped the tears away with a tissue and dried his cheeks, before slowly rising from his seat. With a heavy sigh he leaned on his walking cane and walked towards the two women standing at the nearby exit. When Neila noticed Mike, she approached him and simply hugged him, tightly wrapping her arms around him. They didn’t need words to know how devastated everyone was. After a long moment they released the embrace and stood at arm’s length.
“Want to visit the memorial?” Mike asked.
She nodded quietly, and Mike, Neila, and Hannah silently left assembly hall two and went to visit the memorial for the lost USS Sidereal.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
----------------------------------------
[ Act Three ]
Sina was lounging lazily on the impossibly comfortable couch inside her new quarters in diplomatic sector twelve of Sol III’s annulus. The furniture’s coverings were made of reinforced Tholian silk, an amalgam of the finest noble fabric and Synergy nanites to give it strength and durability. The shimmering surface of the couch softly gleamed in all colors of the rainbow and reflected all light in a brilliant aura.
The Romulan had turned the lights off and watched the vista from the massive window spanning the whole penthouse-style living room. The annulus’s white-blue glow shone into her quarters, and softly illuminated the room. Whenever a reflection hit the couch, it gleamed in a spectral cascade, making Sina feel as if she was floating on a rainbow amid a sea of darkness. Outside the window a swarm of ships was buzzing, with dozens of spheres and probe ship whizzing by and even a cube or two visible just a short distance away.
She still remembered how shocked she was when Tarik had shown her her new home. All her life she’d been used to the pragmatic and somewhat sterile quarters of Starfleet vessels or stations, or the comely and homely rooms of her mother’s small house on Earth. Never had she seen or experienced this much abundant and utterly decadent luxury before. And she had to admit to herself that it felt wonderful to be a little decadent after what they have been through.
This apartment had everything she could have ever imagine. Not only was its two-story layout utterly massive, easily being eight times as large as her captain’s quarters on the Sidereal, it also was equipped with all the niceties usually only reserved for high-ranking diplomats or government officials, as well as its own fabricator device. Couch and bed were dressed in Tholian silk. The bathroom was gigantic and not only had a nucleonic beam hygiene unit, but also a separate water shower, and a hot tub large enough for at least four people.
But the most amazing aspect was the outdoor swimming pool. Sina had not yet tried it, but Tarik’s description had fascinated her. It was a swimming pool fifty meters long and twenty meters wide, with sixty percent of its length being outside the habitat’s structure. A transparent duranium alloy housed the main body of the open pool, while it was only covered by an invisible life-support forcefield. According to 4@19’s description it was as if you were swimming in space. She smiled when remembering his words, making a mental note to definitively give the outside pool a try.
Sina silently enjoyed the view, still contemplating the situation she and her crew got stuck in. She still struggled to combine the terrifying memories attached to the strict geometric shapes of their ships with the utterly supportive and helpful behavior of their people. The last few days have been the most horrifying, the most chaotic, but also the most interesting time of her life. She was torn between the sadness of probably never seeing her mother again, and a whole new galaxy to explore and discover.
She let out a heavy-hearted sigh and reached for the glass of water on the nearby table to take a sip. The Commander also remembered the three options of the Matriarch’s offer. How should she decide? Could she even make that decision? What if some members of her crew want to be sent to an isolated planet and be left alone, while others want to stay onboard Sphere 272-Theta-8, or any other Synergy ship? Would her crew fall apart in these dire times, or would they be able to find a compromise? She had realized quite early that this was not a decision she could make on her own, but which she would need to discuss with the whole crew.
While she was looking at the faint blue glow of the annulus in Earth’s shadow, and the stars gleaming above it, a Synergy prism flew by only a hundred meters away from the windows. Sina raised an eyebrow as the flattened triangular shape of the vessel slowly drifted by. The design of this ship was unlike she had ever seen before, even compared to the other geometric forms of Synergy ships. It had the by now familiar white-gray surface, crisscrossed by blue glowing energy conduits, but it’s flattened form set it apart from all the other designs.
At first, she found the prism just a curious deviation, but the extensions that bore close resemblance to physical docking connectors at the top and bottom near the central indentation really piqued her curiosity. Upon recognizing the extensions for what she thought they were, Sina swiftly got up and wanted to get a closer look, but the prism was just moving out of the viewing arc of her living room window. She was a little disappointed she couldn’t get a closer look at the ship, when the sudden chirping of the door made her jump and quickly turn around.
“Goodness!” The Romulan exclaimed and drew in a deep breath, shaking off the momentary scare. “Yes, come in!”
The main entrance door slid open with a soft tone to reveal Tarik standing there, his silhouette clearly showing him wearing his typical engineer attire with the pants and vest full of bags. Sina could see his head move as he looked around while he slowly entered the Commander’s quarters.
“I hope I’m not interrupting you, Commander?” 4@19 asked, his voice carrying his usual humorous tone.
“No, no. It’s okay. I was just relaxing a little and watched the stars and ships outside. I must admit the vista really is absolutely breathtaking.” Sina replied, walking back from the massive window towards the entrance. Her black robe with an embroidered pale green circuity pattern tightly hugged her features and rustled softly with every step she made. She smiled softly as she approached her guest. “What can I do for you, Tarik?”
The engineer raised an eyebrow as he watched the Romulan woman approach. While he wasn’t wearing any visor attachment right now his basic optical implant still granted him improved night vision, and so he could clearly see Sina walking up to him through the darkness. He reached into one of the large pockets on his cargo pants and pulled out a flat thin Starfleet tablet. “Initially I only came to deliver the PADD you asked for.” His lips curled up in a big grin as he continued while holding out the PADD for her. “But it seems my arrival was quite fortunate, because the lighting system in your quarters appear to be broken.”
The Romulan woman blinked at the grinning engineer for a second, then started to laugh. “You!” She exclaimed humorously and quickly snatched the PADD from Tarik’s hand. Her laughter eventually slowed to a happy giggling, before she restored the lighting. “Lights on, fifty percent brightness.” In an instant the omnipresent light returned to the quarter and bathed everything in a soft warm glow. “No, as you can clearly see the lights are not broken…” Sina shook her head, still giggling about the perfect dryness with which he had delivered his flat joke.
4@19 still smiled from ear to ear. Watching her laughing really lifted his mood. Inside he felt that this was the first time in the last few days that she could really let go of all the stress and pressure of their accident. It was much nicer seeing her relaxed and happy instead of all serious and tensed up. And he had to admit himself that he had been rather enjoying the conversations he had held with her.
“Since the lights mysteriously recovered from their malfunction, it seems my services are not needed anymore.” Tarik commented with a warm smile and began to turn to leave.
“Wait, please.” The Romulan quickly stepped towards Tarik and placed her hand on the elbow of his cybernetic arm. The touch was a little electrifying for both; he felt the soft skin of her fingers on the cool metal of his engineering extension, while Sina felt the smooth and cold finish of the cybernetic device. “Uhm… would you mind staying a while? I still have so many questions about pretty much everything and you always had the right answers at hand.”
The Primary Engineering Adjunct turned back to face the Romulan Commander and beamed a warm smile at her. “Of course, I can stay. But I think the living room would be a better place to continue our conversation, rather than standing here at the entrance.”
“Yes, of course. Please, make yourself at home.” Sina replied and gestured towards the spacious living room. As they walked towards the couch, a pang of conscience hit the Commander. “I hope I’m not too much of a nuisance by asking you to stay? It feels quite selfish of me…”
“Don’t worry. If I had been unable or unwilling to stay, I would not have agreed to remain. Please don’t feel bad, everything’s alright.” The engineer replied while sitting down on the end of the couch, taking care to not damage or stain the Tholian silk covering with his cybernetic extension.
“Can I get you something? A drink or a snack?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Finally, Sina also sat down on the couch and leaned back into the cushions, letting out a soft sigh. “You probably find the notion quite silly, but everything you and your people do for us just pops up more questions in our faces. And it seems that no matter how much we try, we’ll never be able to get answers to all of it.”
“No, I don’t find it silly.” Tarik replied. “I fully understand that many things will seem confusing or strange to you or your crew. But you shouldn’t try and attempt to understand everything at once. That is bound to simply overwhelm you. If you give it some time, I’m sure the necessary knowledge and understanding will be relatively easy to build up.”
“Yes, you’re probably right. I guess it’s because we were so used to understanding the things around us. And now everything at once is foreign, instead of only a few pieces…” She paused and took another sip from her glass before she continued. “But speaking of pieces, I have a question about one of your ship types. The flat triangular ones.”
Tarik’s face lit up with a proud smile when he heard her description. “Ah yes, the prisms. What do you want to know?”
“Just a few minutes ago, before you were at the door, one of them flew by my window and I managed to get a good look at it. I noticed there were what I think are connectors on its top and bottom? It looked like a strange place to put the docking ports, so I wondered what purpose they serve.”
The Synergy engineer reached out to the quarter’s information systems, and with a simple thought conjured a holographic projection of the prism schematics in front of the large window. The schematic highlighted three extensions each on the top and bottom of the triangular body of the vessel. “I assume you mean these?” He continued after Sina confirmed his question with a simple nod. “Those are inter-ship connectors. The prism, or how it’s officially called the Multi-Purpose Interconnected Component Vessel is a quite recent ship design. It was created to serve a wide range of possible assignments.”
4@19 updated the projection and the schematic scaled down a bit while several duplicate prisms appeared next to each other. A simple animation demonstrated how they could connect and stack on top of each other, creating a single ship that gradually grows from a flat prism to a rather tall stacked prism.
“A single prism can serve as an excellent scout or patrol vessel, while multiple prisms connected to each other can form an intermediate tactical craft, or a large support vessel. A prism can not only be built with significantly less time and resource requirements than a sphere or cube, it also simply wasn’t efficient to always send a larger vessel to patrol or support a given spatial grid or system. The prism design allows us to tailor the dispatched resources specifically for the individual situation. Our engineers, some of which are close friends of mine, are already working on an improved version that also allows horizontal connections.”
She stared at the projection. “That’s… that’s really impressive. Starfleet also has a few ships that can split into multiple components, but nothing as sophisticated as your prisms. With the flexibility this design grants you, do you then plan on eventually replacing all your other ships with prisms?”
Tarik shook his head. “No. The Synergy has briefly discussed this, but the idea was rejected. Our spheres, cubes, diamonds, and pyramids are functioning perfectly fine and typically serve their purpose well. It would be an inefficient use of our resources to dismantle our existing armadas and replace them with prisms, just for the case that we might eventually need that design’s flexibility on a larger scale one day. It was agreed upon only using prisms to augment our fleets’ capabilities where it was useful or required.”
Sina thought about her guest’s explanation. “Hmmm, I guess that makes sense. Thanks for answering my question.” She paused for a moment, briefly watching the busy activity in space above the annulus outside the window before she continued. “Regarding a different topic, I’ve been reading up on the archives you showed me. The amount of entries is mind boggling. There’s just too many things happening all over the galaxy, how could you ever hope to keep up? And I don’t mean my crew, I mean your people. How… how can you keep up with the tens of thousands of events happening in the Synergy?”
Tarik looked at her and smiled. “Oh, that’s simple. The hive-mind allows us some capability to set up personalized filters for events and messages. Based on these filters and some general rules, no member of the Synergy is forced to deal with everything. Well, aside from the Matriarch, but she has specialized data processing adjuncts that help her with that. Wait, it’s better to show you…” The engineer reached out with his mind and a different projection appeared in front of them. It was an incredibly intricate multi-layered circular graph.
“This is my personalized filter graph. The outer ring contains all event types, the middle ring contains all message types, and the inner ring contains my channels. Channels are the different ways to relay the events and messages. For example, the channel with the highest priority is thought injection. All communication relayed to this channel is directly and immediately injected into my thought stream to make me instantly aware of it. This channel is always reserved for transmissions from the Matriarch, and events that require the immediate attention of the Synergy, like large scale disasters or attacks.”
Sina raised an eyebrow while she watched the projection in front of her and listened to 4@19’s explanations.
“Any member can typically configure their filter graph however they like, given some restrictions. You see the red lines here? Those are hardwired rules that can’t be modified. Nobody can completely block out the Matriarch or suppress messages about attacks or such. But the gray and blue lines were set up by me. As you can see, I try to keep interruptions and thought injections to a minimum, and typically receive most non-urgent communication during my regeneration cycle. I do have several exceptions set up for my relatives and close friends, though.”
The Commander looked at Tarik’s graph and simply shook her head. “That’s amazing. I know several systems designers and developers that would probably kill to get only a glimpse at the technical infrastructure of all this.”
The engineer smiled proudly and nodded. “Your admiration of our hive-mind is noted. However, I’m afraid I’m not allowed to share and explain some of the details yet. While we are reasonably confident that the hive-mind is secure against any form of attack or virus, the Synergy does have its state secrets that we do not immediately share with outsiders. I hope you can understand that.”
“Of course, I completely understand. But-”
“You have another question, correct?” Tarik interrupted her, laughing softly.
“Was it really that obvious?” She quipped back, also laughing.
“Yes.” 4@19 replied dryly.
For the next few hours, Tarik answered dozens of Sina’s questions about the Synergy, their people, their ships, their history, and the current situation of the Milky Way.
----------------------------------------
[ Act Four ]
Nadya looked at the Newton’s sensor logs on her desk’s display, but after four hours the numbers seemed to blur all together. The Russian woman leaned back into the seat and took a deep breath. The USS Newton was the first Starfleet vessel that had arrived at the location of the Sidereal’s emergency broadcast, over seven hours after it was sent. The recently refitted Intrepid class had run extensive sensor sweeps on all bands, desperately trying to find their comrades in distress. But it had been no use, the Sidereal was gone. Nadya had been studying the Newton’s sensor logs and their science officer’s report for hours, but there were no errors she could find.
“Chert voz'mi!” She cursed and sent the PADD in her hand flying across the room in utter frustration. She stood from the chair and walked towards the replicator console in her quarters. “Coffee, black, hot!” She ordered and waited impatiently until the device had materialized the cup with the steaming beverage. Nadya grabbed the cup and took a long sip, flinching briefly as the steaming hot drink flowed down her throat.
She looked at the PADD on the ground at the far end of the room and let out a resigned sigh. With cup in hand the Lieutenant Commander walked over and picked up the tablet again. Nadya returned to her desk and put the coffee and the device on its surface. She stared at the display in resignation, glaring at the numbers and letters that seemed to mock her inability to wrestle any more information from them. Her thoughts began to wander, quickly taking her back to the memorial service at Starfleet Command last week.
The Enterprise had managed to return to Earth in time so that she could attend the service. This came to her complete surprise, and she learned later that Captain K’Torr was also attending and even had personally made the arrangements, which had surprised her even more. But nonetheless, the memorial service in assembly hall two had been difficult for her. She had tried to keep her emotions bottled up, and not cry. But after Fleet Admiral Ra-Miyantoss’s performance and speech there was little left of her self-control and she wept openly, like many of her former colleagues and fellow crew members of the Sidereal.
She had briefly met Sina’s mother in the headquarters’ gardens, visiting the Sidereal’s memorial stone. She had saluted the group of Captain Gallagher, Admiral Yadav, and Commander retired Thompson, but the Admiral had quickly gestured to drop it. “No Lieutenant Commander, there are no ranks here today.” Only few words were spoken during those quiet moments.
Letting out a soft sigh, the Russian returned her focus to the logs and reports on the display in front of her. She had already spent so many hours on them, four of which today. It was already getting late, and she had about two more hours, tops, before she’d have to go to bed to be fit for her shift tomorrow.
Her obsession with finding the truth about the Sidereal’s disappearance was consuming every aspect of her life. Not only was she spending all her free time on picking apart the reports, she had also already spent over eighty percent of her monthly computation quota of the Enterprise’s computer core running various simulations on the Newton’s sensor logs.
Nadya couldn’t let go. Deep inside she simply knew there was more to this than the reports and logs told her. And she wouldn’t rest until she was personally convinced that there was nothing else she could do. But for as long as she had even the slightest suspicion that her friends, her love, were not dead she’d continue. The thought that her colleagues could be stranded or adrift somewhere and desperately waiting for help terrified her. She’d already had a few bad nights because of that. They weren’t nightmares that woke her screaming, but rather bad dreams that left her exhausted and close to tears in the morning.
So far, her Russian pride and her own unshakable arrogance regarding her ability to control herself had prevented her from talking with the ship counselor about it, but she knew it was only a matter of time until her mask would crumble. She was fully aware that she was gambling not only her own wellbeing, but also her whole career on it, but they’d have to pry her dead cold fingers from the console before she’d voluntarily walk away from this.
Suddenly the console chirped and started to blink. The Augment twitched slightly before she noticed it was a subspace call.
> INCOMING TRANSMISSION
>
>
>
> ORIGIN: NCC-76889 USS Newton
>
> CALLER: Lieutenant Nicolas Yamamoto
Nadya looked at the screen for a moment before she recalled her request to the Newton for a personal conversation with their science officer. She quickly pulled her uniform in place and sat straight, then tapped the console to answer the call. The display changed to Starfleet’s logo while the two ship’s subspace communication arrays negotiated the channel encryption.
A second later the black screen was replaced by the face of an adult Human of mixed Asian heritage. “Good day Lieutenant Commander, I hope I’m not interrupting you? I received your request and just got off my shift. You had some questions for me?”
“Yes, Lieutenant. Thank you for replying so quickly, I really appreciate that.”
“No problem. What can I do for you?” Lieutenant Yamamoto replied, and took a quick sip from a glass of water.
Nadya took a deep breath and looked at the man on the display. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk about your report from stardate 88305.6…”
“Ah, the Sidereal incident.” The man quickly added and nodded slowly. He pressed his lips together slightly before he continued. “Sure, what do you want to know? I thought I had put everything into the report and the log attachments, but if I should have missed something please ask.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ve studied your report and the attached logs extensively, and I couldn’t find any errors or irregularities. Your work on them is excellent.” The Augment’s compliment sent a smile across Nicolas’ face, but he quickly returned to a more serious expression. “However, I wonder whether there was anything that you didn’t put in the report. Maybe you thought it was a sensor fluke or malfunction. Maybe you thought it irrelevant or insignificant, or unconnected to the Sidereal’s disappearance. Anything?”
Lieutenant Yamamoto furrowed his brow while thinking about Nadya’s request. “Hmmm… yes, there was one hypothesis that didn’t make it into the report because it was purely speculative, without much, if any, data to back it up. I discussed it thoroughly with our chief engineer, Lieutenant Helykas, and our exotic particle specialist, Junior Lieutenant P’tas. The biggest question for us was where the Sidereal’s mass went. The wreckage and residual particles and radiation we detected accounted for less than fifteen percent of her total three million metric tons.”
The science officer reached for something out of the camera’s field of view, and a second later Nadya could hear him look something up on a PADD. “Ah, here it is. Please check the diagram on page nine.”
The Lieutenant Commander followed her colleague’s suggestion and opened the mentioned diagram. It was an intricate animated diagram visualizing the residual subspace distortion left behind by the anomaly, and how it most likely developed during the known events given all involved ships’ sensor logs. “I see it. Please continue.”
“Good. Our initial assumption was that the ship wasn’t destroyed but merely displaced, based on the encounter the Enterprise-D had at stardate 47391.2. However, the subspace geometry we found was completely different from that incident’s reports. The rotating fissure created a massive subspace frame dragging, which was still measurable when we arrived seven hours later, and even extended into visible scales in normal space. It was like a spacetime grinder, and anything that got stuck in the anomaly’s vortex would have been subject to unimaginable shearing forces. That explains the drifting wreckage.”
He quickly took another sip from his glass before he continued. “We also quickly found the traces of the quantum torpedo detonation. Our guess is that the Sidereal’s crew tried to use the warhead’s multi-dimensional membrane to bounce off the anomaly’s spacetime boundaries to create a shock wave that would close the fissure and push the ship free. According to our simulations it could have worked, but we assume that due to the extreme and sudden stress of the situation they didn’t completely compensate the frame dragging in the calculations for the torpedo’s target coordinates.”
“We think the warhead exploded in an unsuitable location and instead of closing the fissure and then pushing the ship free, the shock wave pushed the ship deeper into the fissure and then closed the vortex behind it. Since quantum fissures are inherently chaotic and unpredictable, the anomaly could have simultaneously existed in an unknown number of realities. Closing it in our reality wouldn’t necessarily destroy it in others, and those other fissures could then have continued to contain larger or smaller parts of the Sidereal. Like the distant aperture of a wormhole.”
Nadya looked at her fellow officer with a raised brow, while her thoughts tumbled wildly trying to formulate the theoretical consequence of what Nicolas just told her. “So, if I understand you correctly, the Sidereal could be more or less in one piece in a different quantum reality or vaporized and radiated into thousands or even millions of alternate universes, based on how many simultaneous fissures there were, and whether or not they also closed when the anomaly in our reality was destroyed.”
“Correct. And I think you already realize the problem. There is no possible way for us to determine or validate which one, if any at all, of those results occurred. We tried to calculate some properties of the fissure that could give us some hints or a starting point for more simulations, but everything was speculative at best. And because of that we just couldn’t put it in the report. I’m sorry if this caused-”
Nadya quickly interrupted him. “No apology necessary, Lieutenant. Your course of action was correct. Wild speculation has no place in an official investigative report. But do you still have that data and the simulation parameters around, by chance?”
Lieutenant Yamamoto cleared his throat and nodded. “Sure, if you want I can immediately send it over.”
“Yes, please. I’d greatly appreciate that.” The Lieutenant Commander replied quickly.
Nicolas smiled softly. “Sure, no problem. I honestly hope it’s at least of some use to you, but I think there are just too many unknown factors. But still, good luck with it.”
The Russian woman again heard her colleague tap away at his PADD or his terminal, and a moment later her own console chirped to signal an incoming data transmission. A few moments later she had received what appear to be an extensive set of simulation parameters and some documentation for them, that Nicolas had used to try and test his hypothesis.
“Transmission received. Thank you, Lieutenant. I really appreciate your help and your fast response. But now I don’t want to keep you from your deserved rest. Again, thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome. Glad I could be of service.”
She smiled and nodded weakly before closing the channel. “Lebedeva out.” The screen briefly displayed the Starfleet logo and the information that the encrypted channel has been successfully wound down. Slumping back into her chair, Nadya grabbed her mug and took a sip on her now much cooler coffee, then tapped away at her PADD to bring up the received simulation data.
After looking through the package for several minutes she realized how extensive the data was. Nicolas and his colleagues had apparently tried to create a simulation framework for quantum fissures and had fed it with all available sensor data about the rotating fissure. From this framework they had extrapolated several possible branches on which they had focused their efforts.
Nadya fed the preliminary simulation results into her quarters’ workstation and admired the elegance and optimization of her colleagues’ work. It was much more specialized than the generic simulations she had tried to run, and much more efficient. A quick tap on the console later, and she had the certainty that using the Newton’s simulation framework would allow her to use her remaining computation quota much efficiently and purposefully.
Looking at the matrix of provided parameters and estimated outcomes, it quickly became obvious to her that if there was more than one other contemporary quantum fissure the Sidereal had been destroyed with a certainty of over seventy-three percent. If there was only a single other fissure, the chances for the ship being destroyed by the anomaly were just below forty percent. The numbers seemed grim either way, but Nadya told herself that the last case meant an over sixty percent chance for her friends to be alive. Everyone had shed so many tears and was searching for some happy news, so Nadya decided to focus on the single scenario with the highest chance of survival for the Sidereal.
This sudden turn of events gave the Augment a much-needed invigoration. She now had a goal, no matter how tiny or unlikely it may seem, but something that gave her purpose beyond her job, and allowed her to channel her grief and sadness into something productive. Her curiosity and attention sparked by the data sets, Nadya emptied her coffee and dove right into the math of the quantum mechanics fueling the innards of the simulation framework.
The next two hours flew by in a breeze, and only the sudden chirping and pinging of her console reminded her that it was time for her to go to bed. Reluctantly she tore her eyes away from the display covered with subspace tensors and quantum mechanics. Before she turned off the console, Nadya looked at the argument descriptor for the single fissure simulation.
> {⊃1 ⍵ ∨.∧ 3 4 = +/ +⌿ 1 0 ¯1 ∘.⊖ 1 0 ¯1 ⌽¨ ⊂⍵}
This single line contained all her hopes. If there was a way, any way, to ever find her friends, this descriptor would deliver them to her. A small part of her called herself silly for placing so much trust in the Newton’s simulation framework. She was quite aware of how much the odds were stacked against her. She knew of the risk that anything she could do wouldn’t yield any measurable result and only turn out to be just another waste of her energy and time.
But this was a risk she was willing to take. And if she eventually made a fool of herself she would then finally have peace. Nadya let out a soft sigh and switched off the console. Stifling a yawn, she shuffled into her bedroom, hoping that tomorrow’s shift would pass swiftly, so that she could get back to her own, private, “Great Experiment.”
----------------------------------------
[ Act Five ]
Co-Yor took his medical tricorder and went to scan the three unconscious members of the Sidereal’s crew laying on biobeds. One after another, the readings came back clear and strong. Every single one of the previously critically wounded was stable and ready to be released. Due to a request from captain D’raxis they had been kept unconscious, to avoid inflicting further trauma by exposing them to first contact with the Synergy in an uncontrolled way. The Sidereal’s CMO checked their life signs once more, before putting the tricorder away again.
Meanwhile, Niko, Jeffrey, and 112@241 were standing near the entrance to the isolated room and talked about the condition of the people waiting to wake up and be released from the Synergy’s medical care. It had been two days since Jeffrey’s been released as one of the first. Three had been released yesterday. This group now was the last one, before the Sidereal’s remaining crew would be united again.
The Kalonar doctor turned to his XO. “Sir, they are ready. Their injuries have been treated completely, and I can detect no more damages or impairments. Should I administer the waking drug?”
Niko looked at Co-Yor, then at Sorowa, and nodded. “Yes Doctor, go ahead. Sorowa, would you mind waiting outside?”
The Klingon woman nodded softly. “Of course not, Lieutenant Commander. Please let me know when I shall return.” She replied, before leaving the room.
While they waited for the drug Co-Yor was administering via hypospray to take effect and wake their sleeping comrades, Jeffrey looked over their records on the PADD in his hand. A relieved sigh escaped from the counselor’s lips as he scrolled through the diagnostics report for Petty Officer Xoth bim Blos, the Tellarite who severely injured his spinal cord in a fall during the Sidereal’s accident. He was glad his friend was going to be okay and would not suffer any lasting consequences from his severe injuries.
The other two crew members were Junior Lieutenant Julia Vossler, a female Human engineer, and Corporal Sarvan Kusuhn, a male unjoined Trill and member of Shori’s security teams. Both had sustained severe radiation poisoning while their ship had been trapped in the fissure, when the antimatter storage containers started leaking antimatter radiation from the nanometer scale fractures created by the anomaly. Vossler and Kusuhn had both received lethal doses and wouldn’t have survived much longer when Sphere 272-Theta-8 had arrived to provide support.
The towering figure of Co-Yor slowly walked between the three biobeds, carefully monitoring the slowly waking patients. Julia was the first to move, and she let out a soft groan as she tried to sit up. Quickly the CMO was at her side, his massive hands gently supporting her shoulders, while his sonorous voice spoke to her. “Take it slow Ms. Vossler. You had suffered severe injuries during our accident, but you’re safe now. How do you feel?”
The Human slowly blinked her eyes open, and looked right in Co-Yor’s face, his golden eye balls gleaming softly in the dimmed ambient light. “Co-Yor? What… where am I?”
“You’re safe.” Jeffrey said and walked closer. “A ship came to our aid and managed to rescue us just in time. The Sidereal is uninhabitable for now and docked at a shipyard for repairs.” He reached out with his left arm, and took Julia’s hand in his, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“How long have I been out?” She asked while fully sitting up and swinging her legs off the biobed, shaking her short red pixie cut. The Junior Lieutenant looked around, nodding at the XO standing in the distance, before she noticed the other biobeds with concern. “And what’s with them? Are they okay?”
“You were in medical treatment for about four and a half days. And your comrades are fine, Julia.” Jeffrey said. “You’re all in here to be released from their medical facility. Everyone in here is safe, don’t worry.”
By now Xoth and Sarvan were also stirring on their beds, and Co-Yor and Jeffrey quickly went to their sides to help them. After a few more minutes, the Doctor’s waking drug was in full effect, and all three crew members were fully awake and aware. All three stood in a line when Niko came closer and offered his hand to every single one of them.
“Welcome back. I’m glad you all recovered. But you probably wonder what happened and where we are. I will try to give you the answers to all your questions, but I want you to know that much of the information I’m about to give you will be irritating or even frightening. Please understand that we are all still trying to cope with what happened and our current situation. We need to stand together in these dire times and help each other as much as we can. Because not everyone made it. The accident did take its toll, and we lost fourteen members of our crew.”
Niko took a deep breath before he continued.
“115 hours ago, we encountered a rotating quantum fissure and got trapped in its aperture. The ship was suffering heavy damage, and we were pressed to quickly find a way to escape. Due to a lack of both time and alternative options, we tried destroying the anomaly with a reconfigured quantum torpedo. It worked… somewhat. The Sidereal didn’t get destroyed. But something else happened that only became apparent to us a day later. We are no longer in our own reality.”
Corporal Kusuhn spoke up. “What do you mean with that, Sir?”
“The fissure translocated the Sidereal into an alternative reality, and over a thousand years into the future. The current date is July 18th, 3517. And the Milky Way in this universe is fundamentally different from what we all remember.”
The three survivors stared at Niko with open eyes, trying to process what he just told them.
“But we can go home again, right?” Xoth asked in his typical gruff voice, but even his unceremonious behavior couldn’t hide the tone of uncertainty carried along in his question.
“Honestly, we don’t know yet. The Synergy’s scientists are working on trying to understand how we got here, and whether it’s possible to send us back. But so far we’re still all in the dark.”
“Excuse me Sir, but… what is the Synergy?” Julia queried carefully. “I’ve never heard of such an institution.”
The XO pressed his lips together and breathed a soft sigh. “When I said that this galaxy is completely different from ours I meant exactly that. The timelines apparently started to diverge about 350 years ago, from our perspective. In this timeline the Borg temporal incursion on stardate 50893.5 was successful. They managed to prevent first contact with the Vulcans, assimilated Earth, and quickly proceeded to overpower all Alpha Quadrant species with their advanced technology.”
Junior Lieutenant Vossler let out a gasp and stepped back in shock until she stumbled against one of the biobeds. Corporal Kusuhn and Petty Officer bim Blos stared at their superior, shaking their heads in disbelieve. “How?” Xoth spat out, his small black eyes glistening agitatedly.
“We don’t know yet. Captain D’raxis has decided to not yet share such classified information with them. We assume that there was a minor deviation before the temporal incursion that then spiraled out of control and led to a completely different outcome. But what exactly that was, we have no idea.”
“So, you’re telling us that the Borg control this galaxy? How come we haven’t been assimilated yet?” Sarvan asked nervously, running his right hand through his short cut dark brown hair while looking around for an exit.
“Because the Borg are gone. After they consumed almost two thirds of the galaxy, the Collective buckled under the pressure of a rebellion, fueled by hundreds of billions of individuals that managed to resist the oppressive hive-mind. This rebellion brought the Borg to the brink of open civil war, and successfully managed to extort the Queen into giving up her stranglehold on the hive-mind. Freed from this slavery, they quickly reintroduced individuality and personal liberties, and sought peaceful coexistence with the remaining unconquered governments of the Milky Way.”
“Good Borg? I didn’t know I signed up for a fairy tale.” Xoth commented sarcastically, his arms crossed before his chest.
“I also find that very hard to believe, Sir.” Julia added to her Tellarite colleague’s remark.
“I don’t care what you believe, I want you to know the truth.” Niko shot back, his voice a little harsher than he had intended. “Do you think it was easy for me to come to terms with our current situation? Do you think I didn’t have trouble accepting all of this? When the Sidereal was only minutes away from a core breach that would have killed us all, I was so certain that the damage control team the Synergy had sent to help us was a deception, that I was trying to stop captain D’raxis from accepting their offer.”
He started slowly walking from one crew member to the next as he continued.
“I was so convinced that they were Borg trying to assimilate us, that I was willing to have us all die rather than accept the truth. Thankfully, Sina didn’t listen to me that time. Since then they have been nothing but incredibly helpful, friendly, and supportive. They’ve provided us with quarters, supplies, and medical care for our wounded. They’re even repairing the Sidereal for us, in case we want to take a cruise around their empire. If they had wanted to harm us in any way, they would have had ample opportunity to do so already.”
“You don’t immediately have to become best friends with every single one of them, just treat them as you would treat anyone else that is not our enemy and is helping us. And don’t let their appearance deceive you. They are not Borg.” Lieutenant Commander Heisenberg took a deep breath. “I think it’s time.” He tapped his combadge. “Heisenberg to 112@241. Sorowa, would you please come in?”
The door at the end of the room, close to where Niko had stood just minutes before, opened, and a Klingon woman entered the room. She wore a heavy but practical gray tunic which contrasted starkly with her dark skin, held in place by a belt that carried a good half dozen medical devices. Her head was framed by a halo of wild pitch-black curls, falling around the wires connecting to her cybernetic skull implants. The woman’s right eye had been replaced by a medical ocular implant, and her left arm was obviously cybernetic with several wires and tubes connecting to it.
Xoth, Sarvan, and Julia instinctively took several steps back, but Niko walked closer to the Klingon and demonstratively shook her hand. He turned to the others. “This is Secondary Medical Adjunct 112@241. Her name is Sorowa. She is one of the people responsible for several of your treatments.”
“Greetings. I hope you have recovered well.” Sorowa said, casually exchanging knowing looks and a teasing smile with Jeffrey, who was standing a bit to the side of the group.
Corporal Kusuhn was the first to take some steps forward, carefully but curiously approaching the Synergy medic. He extended his right hand and was a bit surprised at the firm handshake 112@241 gave him. “I guess a thank you is in order. Thank you. Can you tell me what I was in for?”
Sorowa smiled at the Trill soldier. “Acute radiation syndrome. You had absorbed a fifty gray equivalent dose of antimatter radiation, and your internal organs were already starting to dissolve. Without our immediate intervention you would have succumbed to ARS within ten minutes, with irreparable brain damage developing within less than four minutes.”
Sarvan stared at the medical adjunct and swallowed. Being confronted with how close to death he had been certainly put a damper on his mood. When Sorowa looked at Julia and spoke, the Junior Lieutenant suddenly fell quiet, too. “The same diagnosis applies to you, too. Apparently, you both were exposed to the same radiation source.”
Lastly, the Klingon woman focused her gaze on the grumpy Tellarite standing in the middle of the room with his arms still crossed.
“You’re going to tell me I was irradiated, too? Or was there an actual injury involved with me?” He spoke before Sorowa could, immediately challenging her.
112@241 simply responded calmly. “No, you were not irradiated. You incurred critical trauma to your vertebral column from a high-altitude impact. Your spinal cord was severed in four different places. Without our immediate intervention these injuries would have become incompatible with life in less than six minutes.”
Xoth looked at Sorowa for a moment, holding her gaze a bit longer, then looked down to the floor. His desire for arguing and being confrontational had suddenly evaporated while the Klingon described his injuries. He ran his stubby fingers nervously through the curly blonde strands of hair falling from his head and mumbled a quick thank you. “I… thank you.”
Jeffrey, followed by Co-Yor, returned to the front of the room now, joining Niko and Sorowa. He lifted his prosthesis so that Julia, Sarvan, and Xoth could see it. “I had stood right next to a plasma relay when the Sidereal’s EPS grid blew up. Shori was around by pure chance and managed to pull me out of the fire, but even she got licked by the flames despite her armor. My right arm was almost instantly incinerated, and the rest of my chest didn’t look too good either.”
He continued after a deep breath, lowering his artificial arm. “During my treatment I was conscious for a bit and made quite a mess when I saw who was treating me. My first thought was that I was being assimilated, and that sent me into a panic fit. I got up from the biobed, faceplanted onto the ground because the pain and the narcotics and a missing arm were confusing me, and screamed and thrashed around like a madman. It took one of their armed guards and captain D’raxis to restrain me and calm me down eventually.”
“You can probably imagine how frightening this was for me. At that time, I was utterly terrified, and then later confused out of my mind. Nothing seemed to make sense, and it took a whole day for me to put myself back together. The captain wanted to spare you a similar experience. That’s why you were kept anesthetized until your recovery was completed and several officers of our crew were available to pick you up. I hope you’re not too mad about that, but I can tell you that Sina did you a favor.”
All three of them were shaking their heads, indicating that they were perfectly fine not having to go through the panic of having to assume being assimilated by a bunch of Borg.
Co-Yor had slung the medkit’s carrying loop around his shoulder, and the package looked positively tiny next to his over two meters tall towering frame. He nodded to 112@241. “As the Sidereal’s CMO I concur that the patients Petty Officer bim Blos, Lieutenant Junior Grade Vossler, and Corporal Kusuhn are ready to be released into our custody again. They have fully recovered from the reported and diagnosed injuries and are fit to return to duty.”
Sorowa looked up at the Kalonar and smiled. “Understood. We hereby release the aforementioned patients into your care.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. These were the last of your crew members that were still in our custody. If there should be any further medical emergencies, please do not hesitate to contact us for support.”
“We will.” Niko added. “You’ve done quite a bit of work for us, and we thank you for everything. Without you we would have lost even more people. But I think we’ve taken up enough of your time already. And I think our colleagues want to get back to their friends.” He added with a wide grin. “Also, I guess they’re hungry.”
He turned to the rest of the group. “Okay, let’s get you to your quarters. And just as a heads up: Lieutenant Neirrek has volunteered to run a mandatory PT every other day. He expects your presence tomorrow in training gear at 0815 hours.”
With a collective groan the group of Sidereal crew members streamed out of the room and returned to diplomatic sector twelve.