Forward:
I guess you can consider this an episode of an alternate version of "Enterprise."
You'll recognize the names of the crew, but otherwise this story will seem pretty ignorant. That's because I wrote this in early 2001, months before the show had debuted, and it is based only on what little had been released to the press at that time, and my own knowledge of Trek. I first posted it in a couple of Trek newsgroups (hey, remember Usenet?!) under the title "Window on the Truth." Aside from a better title and a few spelling fixes, I haven't made any substantive changes to the text.
You'll notice a number of differences from the show as it aired: Tucker's nickname is still "Spike" in this story, Archer is pretty much just Kirk with a little more, well, bigotry, and humans and non-humans barely get along. I'm sure there are other differences, but I grew tired of the show halfway through its first year and never got to know the official versions of the characters that well.
So please forgive the simpler characterizations, incorrect terminology, and different tone here. I just hope you enjoy the story.
MIRROR OF TRUTH
by Robert A. Myers
Captain's Log, Earthdate June 8, 2115:
While field-testing a powerful new ship's telescope, the Enterprise has been sidetracked to rescue passengers and cargo from a mid-space collision. During a docking procedure in interstellar space, a Federation cargo ship collided with a pleasure craft belonging to a recently discovered species known as Arthites. Enterprise engineers under Commander Tucker have re-pressurized both craft and begun repair-work. It now falls to me to settle their dispute: Who bears responsibility for the wreck?
Inwardly, Archer fumed. Not that he'd ever let his crew or the captains of the other vessels see his mood. Outwardly, he kept his poker face in place.
Nonetheless, he hated this part of the job. Traveling faster than light and making contact with aliens was tough enough without having to play judge over outer space fender-benders. But as the commander of a ship-of-the-line from Earth-controlled space he was the only law around for several light years.
"Captain Archer. Sir." It was Moller, a beefy man 15 years Archer's senior and the captain of the damaged Federation cargo ship Livonia. He was vying for Archer's attention from the big screen. "Captain, I understand the Feds don't want these bugs to get in a snit. But seriously, this is ludicrous. We followed the correct protocols for docking, and at the last second -- BAM! That bug fires his afterburners and plows into us. You saw the damage it caused! Ripped open two compartments and vented our cargo into space!"
If Archer hadn't been visibly upset before, Moller's "bug" remark, right in front of his mixed-species bridge crew and on open channel, pushed him to it.
"Captain Moller, let me remind you that a number of my crew are non-humans." Archer glanced at Sub Commander T'Pol who was watching the exchange impassively. She showed no signs of being offended -- but hell, she never showed any signs of anything. Vulcans.
"If you're going to continue to use terms like "bug" to refer to non-humans I'll have you brought up on discrimination charges. Do you understand me?" Moller visibly blanched as the fleet captain verbally beat him down.
Despite feeling genuinely upset on behalf of his crew, still Archer's heart wasn't quite in it. He knew Moller's type -- just like Archer's father he was an old-time rocket jock from human space. Only used to dealing with other humans and known races, his salty language and rough manner were fine -- as long as he was the only authority figure around. But he was exactly the kind of coarse character that could cause an interstellar incident with a new species.
Nonetheless, Archer felt sorry for the guy. He was only a little younger than Archer's father would have been if he'd lived, and was obviously cut from the same pioneer cloth. To Archer, it seemed obvious that here was a good freighter captain unused to dealing with unpredictable aliens.
Still, he had to be as objective as he could be. Maybe Moller had flubbed some finicky rule of alien protocol. Was it his fault if these bugs couldn't drive their own ships?
"Captain, the Arthite commander would like to speak." Communications Ensign Sato announced.
"What does he have to say?" Archer hoped Moller's 'bug' comment had been lost in translation.
Sato furrowed her brows as she held the earphone, translating a language not designed for human brains or throats.
"Front-Pilot Ralup says that ... he regrets this accident. But while he acknowledges having ... accelerated into the Livonia ... he only did so ... when the signal lights on her docking port ... signaled he should do so."
Moller erupted. "That's a lie! We signaled for him to cut his engines, not to floor it! Archer, I want this maniac sent back to his system in chains!"
"Moller, pipe down!" Archer scowled. He didn't want to have to throw this man, who reminded him so much of his father, in the brig. And he really didn't think Moller was to blame. But if Moller didn't reign in his temper and bigotry, he'd turn this minor scrape into an interspecies row.
Sato continued, "There's more, sir. Front-Pilot Ralup asks ... if this is how all humans behave ... by lying on top of their own ... uh, covering up their mistakes." She ended hesitantly.
"'Mistakes?'" Archer asked, "You don't sound very sure of your translation, ensign."
"His actual term meant 'lying atop one's own bodily waste.' But I'm certain the meaning was the same. Metaphors and similes are sometimes the hardest to translate, sir."
There were grins around the bridge and a stifled chuckle from someone.
"Well, tell uh, Front-Pilot Ralup that humans don't lie on their own waste. We clean it up."
"Yes sir."
T'Pol broke in for the first time since the communications session began. "And how do you propose to clean up this 'waste,' captain?"
Before Archer could speak, Moller interrupted, "If it's anybody's waste, it's theirs! I ... "
Archer cut him off, "Captain Moller, be quiet. Ensign Sato, end transmission to both parties."
The screen reset to an external view of the two vessels.
"Sub Commander T'Pol. In answer to your question, we will clean up this 'waste' by determining the cause of the accident and, if necessary, holding the responsible parties accountable."
T'Pol raised her eyebrow in that Vulcan expression Archer had come to associate with surprise. Whether it was real or mocking though, Archer couldn't tell.
"Regardless of who it is that's responsible, captain?"
Before Archer could finish crafting a reply, the bridge doors opened and Dr. Phlox stepped out. The alien medical officer seemed to spend all his off hours on the bridge, enjoying the view. Though whether it was the view out the front screen, or the behavior of the bridge crew he was observing was anyone's guess. As much as Archer sometimes found dealing with the female Vulcan maddening, members of Phlox's species mostly just puzzled Archer.
"I've been following developments from sickbay. I must say this is a most amusing little intrigue," Phlox fairly burbled.
"I'm glad we can keep you so amused, Doctor," Archer was actually relieved to avoid answering T'Pol's question.
"Captain if I may?" It was Mayweather, the helmsman.
"Go on, Lieutenant."
"Well sir, it seems obvious to me what's going on. I've spent a good deal of time on cargo vessels just like the Livonia. I've even piloted ships of her class on two occasions. The docking procedures are almost fully automated. There's no way that system could have told the ... uh, I mean the Arthite ship to accelerate. The Arthites must have made a mistake."
"Oh really, Lieutenant," Phlox added a tone of amused skepticism to his English. "And what if the system wasn't on automatic? Could the human pilot have made the wrong signal then?"
"Well, sure," Mayweather was skeptical in his own turn, "But why would they do that? It'd be idiotic to disable the automated docking system."
"And only bugs ... uh, I mean aliens can be that idiotic? Is that what you're saying, Lieutenant?" Phlox seemed more amused by Mayweather's indignant reaction than offended, but Archer could never be sure.
"No, of course not! Captain, that's not what I meant at all ..."
Archer decided to bail his helmsman out, "At ease lieutenant, we know what you meant."
"Do we indeed, captain?" It was T'Pol. Throwing in her observation from the sidelines as always. Uninvolved, but watching.
Archer rubbed his mouth and said nothing.
Sounding appeasing, Mayweather spoke up, "Captain, it would be simple enough to ask Captain Moller if they disabled automatic docking for some reason."
"You're right, lieutenant. Ensign Sato, contact the Livonia and ask for their records of the incident and the status of their docking system. And ask the same of the Arthites."
"Aye, sir." Sato returned to her board.
"And if they did disable the automatics?" T'Pol again, "Operating with such a critical system in a non-standard manner is a violation of interstellar commerce treaties,"
"Then we'll deal with that act as it warrants."
---
Archer's command crew sat quietly in their chairs at the conference table. An awkward stillness hovered over the room, as the incident had served to stir the human/alien tensions aboard ship. Archer knew his behavior set the tone, not only for his human crewmembers, but also for the aliens learning what to expect from humans. Silently, Archer vowed to live up to the task and put his empathy for Moller aside.
But what if the evidence, circumstantial as it was, pointed to Moller as making the mistake? Without something solid to indict the freighter, could he possibly file charges and still maintain the fleet's credibility with human vessels as a fair arbitrator?
It would be no easier if he determined it was the Arthite's fault. Could he make the accusation stick and not harm relations between their two species? Not to mention with his own senior staff?
No matter what he decided, without clear and conclusive proof, one side would have reason to protest. And what he had just been told didn't make him any happier.
"So, neither ship has any visual recordings of the moments leading up to the accident?" Archer asked.
Chief Engineer 'Spike' Tucker answered, "That's correct sir. Or no recordings that show what the signal lights on the freighter's hull were doing before the alien ship rammed them at any rate."
"And their docking systems, Spike?"
"The docking port checked out fine captain, once we had cleaned the caltate residue out of it. No reason for it to not work exactly as designed. We've checked their entire docking system three times now, no problems."
"Anything odd at all?" Archer pleaded with the universe to throw him a clue.
Spike shook his head.
Ensign Sato added, "And Captain Moller insists they didn't deliberately disable the system, or run it manually, sir."
Archer switched his attention to the young comm officer, "And the Arthites?"
"They insist on their version of the events still."
Archer considered going back to his quarters to flip a coin.
Dr. Phlox raised a hand, and Archer nodded.
"Excuse me, commander Tucker? About the docking systems. Did you say 'caltate residue?'"
"That's right," Tucker looked puzzled.
"What would cause that?"
Tucker leaned back, "Well, they said they were carrying a cargo of Chao yeast in those holds. Chao yeast is a genetically-engineered organism used in terraforming to convert a methane atmosphere into a humanoid-breathable one. They told me, and maybe you can confirm this, that when Chao yeast is exposed to vacuum it breaks down chemically, leaving a caltate residue."
Phlox nodded, "That is exactly how I'd expect Chao yeast to react. But do you know what else leaves a caltate residue when exposed to vacuum?"
The rest of the table shook their heads.
"The human scientific term for it is, 'fungiform orionis-baccillus b.' But it's commonly known as 'Orion sleep spores.' I trust you've heard of them?"
T'Pol nodded, and so did Archer, Mayweather and Sato, all looking grim. Tucker just furrowed his brows.
"I'm sorry," he said, "my thing is gizmos, not critters. I guess this is some kind of germ then?"
"Yes commander. A very interesting kind of germ, that in high enough concentrations can effectively put most humanoid species to sleep for several weeks."
Tucker nodded, "Oh, a sleep tonic then. What's wrong with that?
"In general? Nothing. However, the Orion pirates have been known to use a handful of sleep spores to immobilize entire cities before raiding them. Imagine: an entire city asleep while those thugs take whatever they want."
Tucker gave a low whistle.
Phlox went on, his trademark humor now absent, "And had those two holds been full of the spores, I estimate nothing less than an entire class M planet could have been rendered unconscious within days. Not to wake up for two standard weeks."
Archer sat silently, pondering the implications.
Mayweather burst out, "But wait a minute, doctor. That doesn't prove anything! Can you tell from the residue if it was yeast or spores in that hold?"
Phlox shook his head, "No. But then, I can't think of any reason to be transporting that much Chao yeast through this sector. There are no terraformable worlds within a parsec that I'm aware of."
Archer took a breath and resigned himself, "So we're back where we started. And with no recordings, no independent observers present, and no proof either way -- We have no way to tell who's mistaken or even lying."
The awkward silence returned, but now it was the silence of a group of people at a collective wit's end.
Mayweather wryly broke the spell, "You know, travelling faster than light is great. But sometimes I wish we'd built time machines instead of starships."
Archer nearly snapped his stylus in two.
"Lieutenant Mayweather, you may have just earned a citation!"
"Sir?"
"Sub Commander T'Pol. That experimental ship's telescope we were testing -- it functions as designed?"
T'Pol raised her eyebrow again, "Yes captain. The D-19 telescope will allow ships to scan entire solar systems for planetary bodies and debris as small as cometary dust from nearly a light year away. It is exceptionally powerful."
"Very good. Please reactivate it and await my command. Lieutenant Mayweather, plot a course out of this system at maximum warp. Heading 347 mark 21."
Mayweather looked confused, but knew when to not ask, "Aye sir..."
"And Dr. Phlox," Archer wasn't happy as he gave this order, "Work with Ensign Sato to find out how the Arthites might react to caltate residue, Chao yeast, or Orion sleep spores. Let's see if there's any connection there."
The crewmen nodded, but didn't look particularly enlightened.
"Spike, get some security guards and escort Captain Moller and Front-Pilot Ralup aboard. But tell them as little as possible."
It was T'Pol who had the nerve to ask the obvious.
"Sir, as this dispute remains unresolved, may I ask where we are going?"
Archer's grin returned, twice as wide.
"We're going back in time, of course."
T'Pol raised her eyebrow again, and this time Archer was sure the surprise was genuine.
--
The view of warped space outside the front view screen never ceased to amaze Archer. The fact that they were travelling faster than light could in normal space still struck him with awe. And now, hopefully, he was about to find another practical use for warp drive.
Behind him, Moller towered over the diminutive Ralup. The human freighter captain stewed with his arms crossed, unsure of what was going on. Ralup, as translated by Sato, felt much the same.
Archer assured them both mysteries were about to be solved. Inwardly, he prayed he was right.
Archer addressed Mayweather, "Lieutenant, how long ago did the space accident occur?"
Moller broke in, "A day and a half ago, Archer. This is getting absurd. If you've got something to show us ..."
Archer waved him off without looking up, "Lieutenant, the exact time please."
Mayweather called up the records and read them out loud, "Earthdate June 6, 2115, at oh-four-hundred hours, 14 minutes, and nine seconds sir."
Archer punched some numbers into his armchair computer terminal, "Thank you lieutenant. When we are precisely... 298.125 astronomical units away from the coordinates at which the collision occurred, slow to sublight and bring her around 180 degrees."
"Aye sir. Coming up on that distance in ... five minutes, 47 seconds."
The intercom whistled, and it was T'Pol, at the controls of the new telescope.
"T'Pol here. The D-19 telescope is deployed and operational. Captain, I believe I have deduced your plan. I must say it's unconventional, yet quite a logical solution."
Archer didn't allow himself to show the satisfaction he felt at out-clevering his Vulcan science officer. Or at least he hoped he didn't show it.
"Thank you, sub-commander. Then you know where to aim."
"Yes sir. And I can send the data to the bridge's front view screen."
"Excellent. Please stand by,"
A moment or so later, Phlox reported in from sickbay.
"Captain, if you'll recall the more, um, hazardous of the materials we discussed. It seems our friends the Arthites are acutely sensitive to it. Even one part per billion in their air would be fatal to a large number. While the inert material we initially discovered would be harmless."
Archer nodded, hoping this was wrong, but losing that hope steadily, "And do you think the hazardous material could have been isolated from the Livonia's atmosphere from what you saw on board doctor?"
Phlox's voice was matter of fact, "Maybe. But maybe not -- I sure wouldn't want to bet. If I were meeting affluent members of a new species and didn't realize I had a dangerous cargo aboard until the last instant ..."
Archer interrupted, "Thank you doctor. You might want to come up to the bridge to see this."
Presently, Mayweather was counting down the final seconds till they dropped out of warp. As they did so, and the stars outside returned to their normal appearance, Archer called T'Pol.
"Sub commander, do you have a lock on the target?"
"Aye sir. It's just as we'd expect, and just the right timing. We have a high-resolution image. Shall I patch it through to the bridge?"
Archer grinned, "Please do."
The scene shifted to a familiar view -- the Livonia and the Arthite ship in close proximity to each other, edging closer. With one critical difference -- the Livonia's cargo holds were intact.
Moller stammered, "What is this? A simulation of the accident? You dragged us all the way out here to show us a computer sim?"
Archer, turned to study Moller's face -- and wasn't pleased with what he found.
"No, Captain Moller. This view is quite live. And at the same time, it's also a recording of sorts. We're watching these events unfold for the first time ... as far as our current vantage point is concerned."
Moller was ashen, his burly fingers gripped the bridge handrail. Ralup's scaled face was nearly unreadable, but it was obvious he was watching the display with rapt attention.
As the two ships edged closer together on screen towards their inevitable collision, Moller muttered, "How ..."
Archer returned to the view, "Light. It's extremely fast, but not infinitely so. That means that the farther away something is, the further back in time you're seeing it. It's how we can see almost all the way back in time to the big bang and piece together the history of the universe."
"But since we can now travel faster than light, we've out-raced the light your ships were reflecting at the time of your accident. And we're looking back in time to see how it happened."
Abruptly the lights glowing on the docking port of the Livonia shifted patterns. To the seasoned space veterans on the Enterprise's bridge, the message they sent was clear: Accelerate full.
The Arthite Ralup was stamping his foot in a staccato beat as he watched his ship, for a second time, ram into the enormous freighter. He snarled out something in his own tongue.
Sato hesitated, but translated it as simply as she could, "Front-Pilot Ralup says, uh, 'Explosive bodily waste.' I think he means ..."
Archer waved her off, "That's ok, ensign. I think we get the idea."
Moller, nervous, seething, and helpless on the bridge of the military ship fought to maintain his calm. Even as they watched the holds of the Livonia erupt with white gas from the gash torn by the Arthite ship -- gas that glimmered and sparkled in the starlight before dissipating into the void.
Moller found an empty chair and sat in it.
Archer swiveled to face his former fellow captain, "You panicked, didn't you?"
Moller, studying the deck, was silent.
"You realized the Arthites were fatally allergic to the spores at the last possible instant. So you decided to stage an accident, dump the contraband, and make it look like their fault in one quick shot."
"You can't prove we had ... what did you call them ... 'spores' on board."
Archer nodded, "Perhaps not. But right now my science officer is running a spectral analysis on that cloud that initially erupted from your ship. I'll be interested to see her conclusions. Won't you?"
Moller was expressionless.
Ralup said something, and Sato translated, "What are these 'spores' you speak of?"
Archer addressed the scaly alien, "A very dangerous weapon used by bandits to raid planets. Those who are caught transporting weapons like that are severely punished by my people."
Ralup made the human nodding gesture.
Moller, still defiant, glared at Archer, "Who's side are you on anyway? These bugs'? What about members of your own species? And I still don't think you're going to be able to prove there were any 'spores' on my ship."
Archer turned to face Moller, "I'm on the side of the truth. Whether or not we can prove the presence of spores now, we have enough evidence to warrant a full-scale investigation of all of your ship's dealings since you became her captain. I wonder what might turn up in an investigation like that."
Archer sat up straight, and fixed him with an icy glare, "If I were you, I'd be hoping all my bodily waste was thoroughly covered."