Star Trek: Slider
Temporality
Prologue
"Report!" Captain Justin Mills demanded, staggering back to the captain's chair.
"Weapons and shields are down," Commander Loren Walker said, reading her console, "So are sensors, communications, and engines. It looks like the shockwave from the core's explosion knocked out almost everything."
"It was an electromagnetic pulse," Lieutenant Caleb Bryant, ops officer, said, "Extremely powerful. It's fortunate that we have life support and our panels."
"Walker, begin pulling any crewmember with engineering experience and put them on Peron's team for the time being," Mills said, "Have him prioritize repair duties, he should know the best way to get the ship running."
"Sir, short range sensors are coming back," Bryant said.
The static on the screen slowly cleared to show the Earth ahead, closer than Mills would have liked. "Thrusters!" Mills shouted, "Stabilize our orbit!"
"No good, we're totally dead," Ensign Erin Smith said, furiously tapping the helm panel, "We will hit the atmosphere in three minutes."
The captain dashed to the unoccupied engineering console and began rerouting the small amount of power available to the ship. The engineers were already hard at work, Mills could tell. One of the ship's two fusion reactors was about to power up. Unfortunately, it would be too late to keep the ship from descending toward Earth below. He diverted every bit of power he could to the shields, sparing only a small amount for the maneuvering thrusters. "You have enough thruster power to control our descent," Mills said, "Aim for the Pacific Ocean if you can. Hitting water would be better than hitting land."
Every light on the bridge went out along with the panels. A moment later, the helm panel reactivated. "Power routing complete," Mills said, moving back to his chair, "Try to get us down in one piece."
The Slider shuddered as it struck the atmosphere, but that bump paled in comparison to the rattling that came as the vessel was forcibly slowed down to subsonic speeds. The crew held on as the ship bucked under them. "Three thousand meters," Smith reported after the ship finally stopped shaking, "Forty seconds until impact. We'll be landing about two hundred kilometers east of Hawaii."
"Thank goodness for small favors," tactical officer Ryan Gabriel said sarcastically.
A few seconds later, the bridge lights came on and the viewscreen activated. Mills ran a quick systems check on the engineering console. "We've got one of the fusion reactors online," he said, working the board, "Smith, you have partial impulse and full thruster control. Walker, have the crew begin procedures for recoverable water landing. I want this ship tight in thirty seconds."
The Slider pitched upward partially, and began slowing down. "I can't get us back to orbit, but we won't sustain any damage on landing," Smith said.
The ship settled softly into the water. Mills then routed power to communications, sensors, and life support. "Walker, tell engineering to start getting the ship online," Mills said, "Bryant, start scanning. Find out why the hell we haven't heard from another starship or Starfleet Command."
Chapter 1
Captain's Log, Stardate unkown. The Slider has put down in the Pacific Ocean after damage from the explosion of the Hunter's engine core. After restoring power to sensors and communications, we have discovered that we are in the early 21st century. To prevent our ship from being seen, I have ordered the Slider to submerge to 400 meters. While Peron expressed clear annoyance at going underwater, the ship seems to be handling its new environment rather well. Unfortunately, this hampers the abilities of our sensors significantly. The crew's morale is down, which would be expected given our current situation, but they seem to be focusing on their duties and working hard, so I am hopeful that they will work together until we can find a way back home.
Chris Neal entered the small apartment and tossed his keys into the bowl beside the door. He had a party that night, a birthday party for the local school's student council president. His friend Marco, who'd helped him get started in this time period, had invited him, and Neal was more than happy to oblige. The pilot entered the small dwelling's bathroom and checked his appearance. He removed his work shirt and pants and exchanged them for jeans and a black t-shirt featuring a silhouette of a period jet fighter known as the F-22 Raptor. Marco had purchased it for him after seeing Neal's fascination with period aircraft.
The jeans still didn't feel comfortable to the pilot, but he had gotten some negative comments from wearing his uniform pants in casual settings. Out of habit, he pulled the tricorder from his desk drawer and opened it. The power cell was still working, and Neal began his usual five minute scanning sequence that would pick up any vessels in orbit over his area. He detected nothing, and inserted the device into a belt holster. He then slipped his phaser into his coat pocket and headed for the door. He contemplated leaving the weapon behind, but still never felt quite right in this time period without his defensive device.
The short drive to the party gave Neal a chance to remember everyone who would be coming. Marco would be there, as would several of Marco's friends that Neal had grown to like. While most of the attendees would be at least three years younger than Neal, he didn't mind. He'd faked his age at twenty instead of his real twenty-four so that there's be less of a reason for his lack of job history, so they didn't know he was significantly older. Besides, some of them acted beyond their years sometimes, and Neal almost laughed at the drama they went through. To the pilot, being broken up over the termination of a relationship seemed to pale in comparison to flying a starship into battle against a vastly superior enemy vessel.
He pulled his car up to the destination house and got out. After two months in this time, he'd gotten used to driving the primitive land vehicles, and had managed to purchase one with something called credit. He entered the home with a small crowd who happened to be arriving at the same time. "Chris!" a voice shouted.
Neal turned at the sound of his name to see Marco's friend Spinner moving toward him through the crowd. When Spinner arrived, he thrust a can into Neal's hand. "Here's a cold one for ya," Spinner said, "How ya doin'?"
"Fine," Neal replied, "Where's the guest of honor?"
"Liberty?" Spinner asked, referring to the name of the girl whose birthday it was, "Somewhere, probably occupied by JT or that Lakehurst guy."
Lakehurst was the neighboring school to the local Degrassi Community School, and a bitter rivalry between the two was developing. One Degrassi student had already suffered a serious injury in the conflict, and tensions seemed only to be rising. Neal noted that several known Lakehurst students were currently in attendance at the party. "If Lakehurst is here," Neal said, "We should keep our eyes open."
Neal knew he had the phaser in his pocket, and could use it on wide beam to stun the entire room, but using his phaser was a measure of last resort. Before Spinner could comment, a younger teen opened his beer only to have it spray all over. Apparently a Lakehurst student had given a shaken beer to a younger Degrassi boy in order to create the incident. "You know what that means?" a teen with a backwards cap said, roughly grabbing one of the Lakehurst kids, "Buh bye!"
"Hey, relax Slim Shady it's a party!" the Lakehurst kid replied.
"And now it's time to go!" Spinner shouted, grabbing the kid and pulling him toward the door.
"Hey, get your hands off me!" the Lakehurst kid said as he was shoved toward the door, "Bad move Degrassi!"
Neal followed them outside to make sure they didn't cause trouble, and could hear his tricorder beeping as soon as he was out of the party's noise. It wasn't the tone he'd picked when one of his local friends called his assigned mobile phone number, but rather one the device would use when receiving a direct subspace linkup. "Neal here," the pilot said, activating the link, "Slider?"
"This is Slider," Mills' voice replied, "Good to hear your voice. We can beam you back now."
"Give me a few hours to settle my affairs here, captain," Neal replied.
"Affairs?" Mills asked.
"I've been here for almost two months," Neal said, "I need to make sure that I will not be missed when I disappear."
"Be quick," Mills said, "You have six hours, then I want you to report in for beamout."
As soon as Neal put the tricorder back, he could see that the Lakehurst kid was urinating on a car parked next to the house. "Liberty!" JT Yorke shouted, walking out of the house.
Neal had walked across the street during his conversation with Mills, so they couldn't see him, but Neal watched as JT witnessed the Lakehurst kid's actions. "Couldn't find a toilet?" JT asked.
"He did," Lakehurst kid's friend said.
"Oh, I get it, my car sucks," JT replied, heading toward his car, "Ha ha, you guys slay me with your humor."
"Oh yeah, mascot boy?" the friend said, pulling out a small object, "Laugh at this!"
With that statement, he ran up behind JT and thrust what Neal could now make out as a knife into JT's back. The two Lakehurst kids ran off and Liberty came around the corner. As soon as she saw JT, she ran to him and began screaming for help. "Neal to Slider," the pilot said into his tricorder, "I need a medic here now. We have a stab wound."
A moment later, James Gabriel appeared in the middle of the street, thankfully wearing civilian clothes. Neal hoped that 24th century fashion wouldn't seem too odd, but didn't much care. He'd almost become part of the circle of friends that JT was part of, and wanted to help the boy. "Where's the injury?" James asked.
"Follow me," Neal said.
They ran across the street and James quickly knelt down beside JT. "Liberty," Neal said, "Go inside and summon medical aid. My friend and I will do what we can here."
Liberty nodded and left. "He needs to get to sickbay," James said, running a medical tricorder over the youth.
"Can we use the Slider's EMH mobile emitter to replace him while he's gone?" Neal asked.
James nodded. "Do it," Neal said, "I'll stay here with the hologram."
"Just don't expect the hologram to wake up," James said, tapping his commbadge, "Medical transport and replacement protocol. Use my medical tricorder readings to create the facsimile."
James and JT disappeared in swirling light as another version of JT sparked into view. This one had the same stab wound, and was also bleeding, but was completely unconscious. Liberty came out a few moments later with Spinner, Manny, Emma, Sean, Toby, and a youth Neal didn't recognize. "An ambulance is on the way," Liberty said, "How is he?"
"He passed out," Neal said, "My friend panicked so I told him to go home. I don't know what's going to happen."
The teens all looked at each other in uneasy ways, then expectantly back at Neal. The pilot wished he had an answer, but everything rested on Dr. Tagaris' abilities now.
***
"Explain one more time please," Mills said, standing over an unconscious teen in sickbay.
"James Gabriel brought in a patient from this time period, had us transport out the mobile emitter to create a facsimile of the injured person, and then I healed his stab wound," Doctor Tagaris replied.
"Did you bother to check his history first?" Mills asked.
"My first priority was saving him, then I checked his identity," Tagaris replied, "His obituary is published two days from now, local time."
"Damn!" Mills shouted, pounding his fist on the wall, "Less than a month in command and I've already mucked up the timeline."
"With all due respect," Tagaris said, "Mr. Gabriel, Mr. Neal, and myself are far more responsible than you."
"This is my ship, and you're my crew," Mills said, "That makes this my responsibility. Do you have any suggestions? That hologram out there is likely going to be treated soon."
"The mobile emitter will simulate internal organs," Tagaris said, "It can even be programmed to have the facsimile appear to die."
"Remotely?" Mills asked.
"Close range, by tricorder," Tagaris said.
"Upload the necessary commands to a tricorder and give it to me," Mills said, "I will do this personally."
"What about my patient?" the doctor asked as she worked with a tricorder.
"Keep him under for now," Mills replied, "I haven't made that decision yet."
Mills took the offered tricorder and headed for the transporter room. "Mills to transporter room one," he said, slapping his badge, "I need casual clothes appropriate for this time period."
Upon arriving, the ensign on duty had jeans, a t-shirt, and a casual coat for the captain. "The computer selected these clothes based on your size and age," the Vulcan ensign said.
"Good work," Mills said, removing his uniform and donning the outfit.
The captain then slipped a type one phaser into a pocket and put the tricorder in an offered belt holster. "Put me down at Neal's position," Mills said, "Make sure there are barriers between me and anybody else."
***
Neal watched the ambulance pull up, its siren overpowering every other sound nearby. The group of teens backed away from the JT hologram as period medics ran over to the boy. "Chris," a quiet voice behind the pilot said.
"Justin!" Neal exclaimed, excited to see his captain after so long, "Why are you here?"
"I need that hologram to die," Mills said, "And I have to use my tricorder at a distance of two meters for that to happen."
Unfortunately, the medics were already loading the teen into the ambulance. "I have an idea," Neal said, "This way."
After pulling the captain over to his car, Neal sat down and motioned for Mills to do the same. He then started the engine and began to pull forward. He blocked the ambulance's way, then purposefully shifted into the wrong gear. This caused the engine to cease functioning. "Send your signal now," the pilot said as the ambulance began wailing its siren to get to get Neal to move the car.
"Ten seconds," Mills said.
Neal pretended to try to start the car, but with the vehicle in gear, he only succeeded in making the headlamps dim. "Take the car out of gear first!" the medic shouted through the open side window of the ambulance.
"Done," Mills said.
Neal promptly started the car and pulled forward. "I put a delay on it," Mills said, "He'll be dead in an hour, no matter what they do."
"Should we go to the hospital to be sure?" Neal asked.
"No," Mills replied, "We're going back to the Slider. The mobile emitter can be beamed back once the body is put into a grave. Pull the vehicle over and deactivate the engine."
Neal simply nodded. While the captain was his friend, he was also in command and his decisions were final. "Mills to Slider," the captain said, tapping his badge, "Two to beam out."
***
"We have two problems," Mills said to the Slider's assembled command crew in the briefing room, "The first is immediate. We have an unconscious person from this time period in our sickbay. According to history, he's supposed to be dead in less than a day. While we have assured that nobody in this time period will think otherwise, we still have him aboard."
"What's the second?" Peron asked.
"Mr. Bryant has run some calculations based on Neal's time here," Mills started, indicating for Bryant to speak.
"Neal was closest to the Hunter's power core when it detonated," the ops officer said, "We were the next closest. Based on his length of time here, matched with our arrival, and calculating based on distance to the core, there is a very good chance that the Hunter will arrive in the next seven to ten days."
Mills clenched his fist, knowing full well what that would mean. "Peron," the captain said, "Your priorities are engines, weapons, and shields. If we can't fight the Hunter when it arrives, then they could do catastrophic damage to the timeline."
"What about the Enterprise?" Gabriel asked, "Won't they be thrown back as well?"
"They were significantly farther away," Bryant said, "If they got thrown back at all, they would be rather close to our own time."
The room was silent for a moment, each crew member realizing what that meant. Mills could see the worried looks on their faces and knew that it was up to him to calm their fears. He stood from his seat at the table. "It's up to us," Mills said, "But we'll have an advantage. They'll still be damaged from the battle and we have a week to repair. Peron, use whoever you need to make the best use of that time that you can. In six days, I want the Slider to head for space. We'll put down on the dark side of the moon and start scanning for the arrival of the Hunter. Doctor Tagaris, Mr. Neal, I'd like you to stay for a moment. The rest of you are dismissed. Get us battle ready as soon as possible."
The doctor's demeanor was unreadable, making Mills wonder if the Romulan woman took Vulcan ideologies to heart. Neal, however, kept his eyes down and barely moved. Mills wanted to tell his friend that it was okay, that saving a life was a natural reaction. Unfortunately, his duty as captain meant that he had to maintain Starfleet protocol, including those that dealt with contamination of the timeline. "We have a situation," Mills said, sitting back down in his seat, "In our sickbay, there is a teenage boy who belongs to this time. On top of that, he is supposed to die tonight. Doctor, what can we do?"
"I can do nothing," Tagaris replied, "In twenty-four hours I will wake him, as we do not have the equipment or supplies to keep him safely unconscious any longer."
"Neal, when he wakes, he's your responsibility," Mills said, "You will talk to him, inform him of the situation, and let him know why he can't go home."
"Can't go home?" Neal asked, "Where's he supposed to go?"
"For now, he can have a set of quarters and read literature available to this time period," Mills said, "The decision will be your burden. If you believe that he will be able to return to this time period's population and not attempt to reconnect with his life, he may. Otherwise, he will have to return to our time with us."
"But Justin, I can't make that kind of…" Neal started.
"Mr. Neal," Mills said, forcing himself to keep it formal, "You made that choice when you had our medical technology used on someone who was injured due to events in this time."
"Yes, sir," Neal responded through clenched teeth.
"Both of you are dismissed. I'll be in my quarters if either of you have any questions," Mills said.
***
Gabriel stood outside the captain's quarters two hours later, trying to decide if he should signal. He was sore from being inside the ship's cramped crawlways making repairs, but knew that his short break was the only chance he had to talk to the captain. Finally, he tapped the signal panel. The door opened a moment later to show Mills sitting at his desk, using the computer console. The captain looked stressed, but Gabriel guessed that his own face carried a similar expression. "Justin, do you have a moment?" the tactical officer.
Mills turned to regard the tactical officer and appeared to think for a moment. "Mr. Gabriel, come in," the captain said.
"What the hell is going on?" Gabriel asked, "You were very hard on Chris. He's in our quarters right now, completely broken up about having to decide on the future of a teenage boy."
"Mr. Gabriel," Mills said, turning his chair to face the tactical officer, "An officer on my ship violated several Starfleet protocols on time travel. I must maintain order, especially given our current situation. As the captain, I have to make sure that we hold true to the standards of Starfleet. I'm sorry if that causes emotional difficulty, but we don't have the luxury of bending the rules anymore."
Gabriel's mouth was dry. The tactical officer could tell that the captain was affected by the stress of the situation, yet his childhood friend seemed to have no inclination to allow anybody to talk to him about it. "Captain," Gabriel replied, "As your tactical officer, I will do my duty to the utmost of my ability. As a member of your crew, I will do my best to support the others in their duties. However, Justin, as your friend, I want to support you. Don't bear this burden alone, at least not off duty."
"This is hard," Mills said, turning his eyes down onto his desk, "I have to keep the chain of command intact on this ship. If I don't, the civilian officers will quickly fall out of line."
Mills then looked up, straight into Gabriel's eyes. "Ryan, I cannot afford to allow the friendship between you, me, and Chris to influence my decisions as captain. I'm sorry, I really am. I hope you understand why I have to do this. If you wish, we can still spend time together off duty, but I know that the decisions that I must make will jeopardize our friendship."
Gabriel nodded slowly. "I understand," he replied, "I will do my best to keep that in mind. I just want you to know that Chris and I are here for you if you need it."
"Thank you for the support," Mills said, "I may call upon it in the future. I also want you to begin assembling small hit and run teams. Use our scans of the Hunter to identify critical systems. These teams will be beamed aboard to sabotage the enemy ship and then beamed back."
"With all due respect," Gabriel said, "Starfleet abandoned that practice years ago because it's too dangerous for those involved."
"I do not give this order lightly," Mills replied, "We need to use every tool at our disposal if we are to defeat the Hunter. I suggest you get to work. Dismissed."
Without a word, the tactical officer spun on his heal and exited the room.
***
Neal paced in sickbay. JT had just been given a drug to help him wake up, and the pilot was nervously awaiting the teen's revival. It had been almost a full day since the boy had been stabbed, and Neal was still nervous about the upcoming conversation. The sound of JT stirring made Neal stop and move to the bed's side. The boy moaned a bit and then slowly opened his eyes. He took a quick look around, then looked up at Neal. "Chris," JT said, "Where are we?"
"You were injured," Neal said, "I got you to a doctor."
"How bad?" JT asked, "I remember that Lakehurst kid pissing on car, then they walked off, then everything else is a blur of pain."
"You were stabbed in the back," Neal replied, "But it wasn't a big knife, so we were able to bandage it up."
JT sat up and felt his back. "I don't feel any bandages," he said, "In fact, I don't feel sore at all."
Neal looked around to see that Dr. Tagaris was in her office and James Gabriel was taking care of one of the engineers who'd been injured in the previous battle with the Hunter. "What are you wearing?" JT asked.
The pilot realized that he'd changed into his uniform, and that JT would find that clothing strange. "This is my uniform," Neal replied, straightening, "I'm on duty, so I have to wear it."
"What, are you secretly in the army or something?" JT asked, standing up slowly.
"No," Neal said, "Not quite. I've arranged for you to have a set of quarters, so why don't we talk there?"
"Quarters?" JT asked.
"It's complicated," Neal replied, "Just give me awhile to explain and then you can ask more questions."
***
Chief engineer Jared Peron slowly backed himself out of the maintenance hatch. He'd just connected whet he hoped were the last few critical connections from the ship's fusion reactors to the general power grid. "Bring them online," he said, moving over to a status display.
His assistant chief Matthew Horton nodded and manipulated the control board in the ship's main engineering room. "The reactors are at ten percent and rising," Horton said.
Peron began routing power to various systems on the ship and was rewarded by seeing those systems come online. "Bring them to seventy percent and hold there," Peron said, "I'll be on the bridge to see about getting us into space to perform external repairs."
The engineer walked into the nearest turbolift and set the bridge as the destination. The lift immediately began moving sideways through the ship, as the bridge and main engineering were actually on the same deck. A moment later, the computer sounded a tone and the door opened to reveal the ship's command center. He stepped onto the bridge to see Mills sitting in the command seat. Also present were Lieutenant Caleb Bryant and Ensign Rylan Smith. Given the ship's current status, Peron wasn't even sure if Mills' presence was required. "Captain," Peron said, "We now have full impulse power at your command."
"Very good," Mills said, "How are the other systems?"
"I do not know," Peron said, "I have been focusing my efforts on the power grid. I currently recommend we get into orbit in order to begin repairs to the hull."
"There's a problem with that," Mills replied, "The current technology level of Earth would allow them to detect us in orbit."
"The moon, sir," Peron said, having already come up with a plan, "We can land the ship on the side facing away from the planet and they will be unable to see us."
"Very well," Mills said, "Bring the impulse engines online and prepare for flight."
***
Neal had just wrapped up a short version of the conflict with Okada and the events that led to his time travel. The boy seemed to be taking it in stride, but Neal new that JT would put up a calm, relaxed front whenever he was nervous or overwhelmed. "So this is a spaceship?" JT asked, sitting on the room's sofa.
"Yes, although we call it a starship," Neal replied as be paced back and forth.
As soon as the pilot spoke, the impulse engines came to life and filled the ship with their usual low hum. "And it looks like we're online," Neal replied, moving to the room's computer console.
He pushed a few controls and brought up an external view for the boy to see. JT watched as the Slider left the ocean and headed for space. "Where are we going?" JT asked.
"Nearby," Neal replied, "We can't complete repairs unless we're in space."
"What about getting back to Toronto?"
Neal sat down next to JT, knowing that the moment was nearing. "We can use the transporter to return," Neal said, "It's a device that allows us to move people and objects instantly over great distances."
"Oh," JT said after a moment's thought, "Is that how I'll be getting home?"
"JT, there's something you need to know," Neal said, "We have your obituary in our computer. You were supposed to die when you got stabbed. We can't return you to your old life."
The kid looked like he'd been physically struck, and Neal couldn't blame him. "So what does that mean?" JT asked quietly after a few moments.
"I've been ordered to talk with you and observe you for a couple days," Neal said, "If I think you accept your situation, we can return you to the population of Earth in this time. You'll have to take on a new identity, and will likely have your appearance surgically altered."
"I don't like that," JT said, "I'm me, and I don't want to be anybody else."
"The other option might seem less favorable," Neal said, "You'd remain on board the Slider and return with us to our time."
JT did reply right away, but instead turned to watch the monitor. The Slider broke free of the atmosphere and the screen was filled with stars. "Our course and speed have us touching down on the dark side of the moon in about forty-five minutes," Neal said softly, "Once we touch down, the transporter will no longer be able to reach Earth."
JT continued to be silent, which only distressed Neal more. The pilot crossed to the door and was about to exit when JT spoke. "I want to go back," the teen said, "I don't care if I was supposed to die. I didn't die, I'm standing here now, and I want to go home."
"I'm sorry I interfered in your life," Neal said, his back still to JT.
"No!" JT exclaimed, "I'm glad you did. I'd be dead otherwise. But now I'm alive, and I should make use of this second chance."
"Unfortunately, your death needs to happen, at least in the minds of everyone who knows you," Neal said, turning to address JT directly, "Otherwise, the timeline for us could be changed."
"How? How can my life affect things for you?" JT asked.
Neal thought for a moment about his history, the came up with an answer. "You're familiar with Abraham Lincoln, an American president?"
JT nodded slowly. "Isn't everyone?"
"It's rather ancient history for us," Neal said, "But my family traces back to the southern United States."
"Ok, so what does that have to do with the timeline?" JT asked.
"What if Lincoln had a friend in his teen years who hated slavery?" Neal began, "That friend would have affected Lincoln's opinion. If that friend died in their teen years, Lincoln might have taken on the cause for himself in his friend's memory. This could create the chain of events that you know. If that friend instead survived due to a time traveler's intervention, then perhaps Lincoln would not have been so passionate. Perhaps then he wouldn't have made the same decisions, and thus altered history as we know it."
"So everyone I know has had their lives changed by my death?" JT asked, "And if I'm suddenly alive again, then things will be altered? But what if none of my friends does anything important with their lives?"
Neal couldn't say that his research had revealed that JT's love interest Liberty van Sant would use her passion for peace that JT's death caused to enter politics and eventually become the prime minister of Canada, and thus successfully keep the nation neutral during the third world war. "Think of it this way," Neal said, "Four hundred years ago, a teenage boy dies. Thus, his three children never existed. Assume each child has three children, and assume that we have a generation every twenty years."
JT thought for a moment. "I kinda suck at math," JT replied sheepishly.
"It's over a billion people," Neal said, "And because that one boy died, that particular group of over a billion people never existed to affect the world."
JT was taken aback. Neal wondered if the boy had ever thought that he could have such an effect on history. "So, your world could be completely different because a good portion of your population would be different," JT said.
Neal nodded, "That's correct."
"I think I understand a bit. I still want to go back to get some things," JT said, "You said I could be surgically altered. Could I be made so my friends won't recognize me?"
"I think we can accomplish that," Neal said, "But you could only observe what's going on, not take anything. Remember, things have to stay the same."
JT nodded, then followed Neal out the door.
***
"Out of the question," Mills said.
The captain saw JT's face melt from confidence to sadness. "I'm sorry," Mills continued, "But I can't risk you making contact with a friend and letting something slip. Besides, I'd have to send a couple officers with you to make sure you get back here, and I don't have any to spare."
"Why not?" JT asked.
"Because in one week, a very large and powerful ship is going to appear near Earth, and we have to be ready to fight them," Mills replied, "We need every crewmember working full shifts in order to make this ship as combat ready as possible."
JT looked as if he wanted to speak but didn't quite know what to say. "I'll make a promise to you," Mills said, "After this battle, if we win, I will personally accompany you on a trip back to visit your home for the last time."
"I'll hold you do that," JT replied, "What happens after that?"
"The choice is up to Mr. Neal. If he thinks you can live in another city as somebody else, then we can return you to earth. However, if he thinks that you'll be likely to attempt contact with old friends and family, then we'll have to take you with us."
"Can I make the choice?" JT asked.
"You can state a preference," Mills replied.
"I don't want to be anybody else," JT said, "I want to stay on the ship."
Mills nodded. "In that case, you have some work to do. I suggest you start reading about the different departments on board and select one to begin training in. This ship is currently at war and might not see a friendly post for some time. I'd like you to learn to contribute to the ship."
"I'll start reading right now," JT said, turning and leaving the room quickly.
"Mr. Neal," Mills said, "Make sure he gets acquainted with Starfleet protocol, like waiting until he's dismissed before leaving a meeting."
"Yes, sir," Neal said, a slight grin appearing on his face.
Chapter 2
JT nervously approached the captain, not sure how to begin the conversation. He'd spent the full week reading about the history of the United Federation of Planets, humanity's exploration of space, and then read the captain's recent logs about their encounters with the Hunter. After watching some of the videos of the previous engagements, he was very frightened that this ship was going to show up soon. Still, he'd also read about what the various departments on the ship did, and decided that he wasn't really qualified for any of them. "Captain," JT said, "Can I have a word with you?"
Captain Mills looked around the bridge, and JT followed his gaze. Only a pilot at the helm and Caleb Bryant at ops were also present. "Are you comfortable here?" Mills asked.
"Yes," JT said, then continued, "I'm not sure I can really do anything in the departments. I can't fly, shoot, or repair anything on board. I don't know enough about science to do any good there, and I don't know anything about first aid or healing."
"Of course you don't," Mills said, motioning JT to sit down in a chair next to him, "You'll start learning from the beginning. I know it's a lot to think about now, but you should be able to learn with time."
JT turned and regarded the image on the viewscreen. He'd always thought that he'd travel into space at some point in his life, perhaps after it became more common and was a normal vacation spot. However, he'd never thought that he'd be sitting on a huge ship that was landed on the moon. Even stranger beyond that, this ship was about to engage in battle with an even bigger ship, and then would travel almost four hundred years into the future where JT would start a new life as a crewmember on a starship that was part of a war to save humanity. "Captain," JT said, turning to face Mills, "Do you ever get scared?"
Mills thought for a minute, and then leaned over to whisper to JT. "Every day," he whispered, "But I never show it, because that's what keeps the crew strong and focused."
JT was taken aback. Mills had seemed so sure of himself every time JT had seen him, but now he realized that it was mostly an act. The teen figured that lots of people, like his school's principal, had to do similar things to keep people's confidence high. JT then looked at the panel at the chair he was sitting in. It showed the status of the Slider's various communication systems, as well as status displays for the five fighters that were docked in the ship's bays. "What's this panel for?" JT asked, unable to determine if it was tactical, helm, operations, or engineering.
"That's for Commander Steele, our communications and shuttle officer. He handles communicating with other ships. That panel hails other ships, allows text and data communication without involving the entire bridge, and also shows fighter status to monitor and coordinate them in battle," Mills said.
"Like a secretary? Answering and making calls?" JT asked.
"Originally, communications officers did just that, and the job was eventually given to tactical officers," Mills said, "However, since the Slider is a combat vessel, someone is needed to communicate with other ships and the fighters without involving me or the rest of the bridge crew."
"Interesting," JT said, hoping to have found something he could learn to do, "I used to host a kids' TV show and I'm alright at acting. Could I talk to Commander Steele about learning from him?"
"I'm sure he'd be happy to teach you," Mills said with a smile.
"Sir, we have contact," Bryant said from ops.
***
Gabriel and Neal were in their quarters discussing the pilot's two months in the time period when the red alert sounded. "Guess they like to be on time to the party," Gabriel said as they headed for the door.
They dashed down the corridor, almost bumping into Commander Walker as they rounded a corner. The three entered the bridge together to see Mills and Bryant in their places. Ensign Smith was vacating the helm when she noticed that Neal had arrived, and the others took their stations. A few seconds later, Peron entered and took his station as well. "Lift us off," Mills said, "Peron, I need a full systems report now."
"We have shields up to fifty percent, full phasers, one torpedo launcher, full impulse drive, and a top speed of warp six," Peron said, "Secondary systems are a mess, but we can fight."
"That's what I wanted to hear," Mills said, "Good work."
Neal worked his board to bring the ship's engines to life and get it into space. "Bryant, what's the status of the Hunter?" Mills asked.
"I'm still not reading the ship, but the temporal distortion is increasing. I can pick up some subspace signals coming through it."
"Can we send any?"
"Negative," Bryant replied.
Neal got the Slider up and headed for the temporal distortion. On the viewscreen he could see that the shimmer in space that was the distortion was growing, and almost the size of the Hunter. A moment later, the giant ship appeared and the shimmer stopped. "They're through," Bryant said.
"Fire, all forward weapons," Mills said, his voice dropping in pitch, "Neal, take us on a pass over their dorsal side so Gabriel can use the ventral phasers."
The heavy phaser struck the Hunter's shields but the pulse phasers found their way through. A single torpedo launched from the Slider proceeded to slam into the Hunter's saucer section and damage a significant portion of it. "We're past them," Bryant said, "The Hunter is turning to follow us."
"We've got their attention," Mills said, "Plot a course away from Earth. Peron, try to make it seem as if our warp drive can't be engaged. I want them to think they can catch us."
"I just got the damn drive online and you want me to try to make it fail?" Peron asked.
"Not fail," Mills said, "Just seem to fail. Maybe shut down one of the drives and they'll think we can't warp without both."
Peron didn't reply, so Neal hoped that the engineer was obeying the command. Indeed, on his board, the pilot could see that the warp status was showing the drives at less than fifty percent efficiency. The pilot turned the ship away from Earth, which happened to point in the general direction of the sun. The Slider rocked from a phaser blast. "Minor damage to aft shield," Gabriel said, "Their weapon systems must be in bad shape."
"Captain," Bryant said, "Their warp drive just came online. They're moving away."
"Stay with them," Mills ordered.
The Slider bucked, but Neal didn't see any phaser flash on the screen. "I don't know what hit us," Peron said, "But our warp drive just went offline for real. We'll have it back in two minutes."
Neal checked his board and found that the drive was powered up. "It's the navigation system," Neal said, "The warp control system has been scrambled. The computer has to reset itself."
"I know," Peron said, "I just didn't think that was important."
"Align the ship to a pursuit course and engage warp drive as soon as possible," Mills said.
"Aye," Neal said, activating the necessary controls.
"Captain," Bryant said, "I'm getting three contacts half a light year out moving toward our system."
"Run scan, what are they?" Mills asked.
"One moment," Bryant said, tapping his panel, "They are Vulcan cruisers, D'Kyr class."
"Warp drive online," Peron reported.
"Match speed with Hunter," Mills ordered, "Tactical assessment?"
"They're weak ships, by our standards," Gabriel said, "Fairly maneuverable, but unable to take any damage. Even with weakened phasers, the Hunter will make quick work of them."
Neal jumped the Slider into warp as Mills spoke. "Maximum warp, we need to intercept the Hunter before they reach the Vulcans. If even one Vulcan is killed, the timeline could be forever contaminated."
***
Commander T'Kar stood on the bridge of her ship, watching the two contacts approach at high warp toward them. "Readings show the ships moving toward us at incredible speed," the science officer said, "The large one is at warp six and the smaller one is at warp eight."
T'Kar thought about what that meant. The size of the slower vessel, combined with its speed, meant that whatever race or races they were about to encounter were likely far more advanced than the Vulcans. "More readings," the officer continued, "The two vessels are close now. I'm detecting weapon fire between them. The beam weapons are similar to ours, but far more powerful. The torpedoes are of unknown design, but the sensors indicate that just one could easily overwhelm our defenses."
"Commander," the communication officer said, "We're being hailed by the smaller ship."
"On screen," T'Kar ordered.
"It's audio only," the officer replied, "On speakers now."
A strange voice, unidentifiable, began speaking. "The large ship is an aggressor in this system. We are defending the intelligent species present. Please keep your distance from the engagement."
T'Kar heard a tone that indicated that the signal had been cut off. "Bring us about," T'Kar said, "It's their affair, we have no business being involved."
The Vulcan vessels began turning, but T'Kar knew that either of the two mystery vessels could outrun them easily. "Power shields and weapons," she ordered, "We may have to fight if they catch us."
***
Mills watched the Vulcan vessels begin turning. "Sir," Bryant said, "The Hunter is increasing speed and adjusting course toward the Vulcans."
"They have the power to do that? I thought we hammered them!" Steele exclaimed.
"Their forward shields are down, likely because they transferred power from shields to engines," Bryant said.
"Steele, use the translation program and give the Vulcans coordinates for the Hunter's weapon arrays. Let's hope they hit hard enough," Mills said, "Keep us with the Hunter, Mr. Neal. Gabriel, keep firing at will."
"I'm doing by best," Gabriel replied, "We just don't have the firepower to tear the Hunter apart."
"Suggestions?" Mills asked as the Slider rocked from another phaser hit.
"Force them to crash on a planet," Peron said, "If we can disable their engines, we can use our tractor beam."
"Good idea," Walker said, "Bad results. We can't have humanity finding starship wreckage in this solar system."
"Quantum singularity," Peron said, "They'll be crushed beyond reach inside a black hole."
The Vulcan ships fired and struck home. Explosions rippled across the Hunter's hull, and the giant vessel fell silent.
"Except that it'll take us three days at maximum warp to reach the nearest one," Neal said, "And we can't even begin to tow the Hunter."
"Those Vulcan ships can," Mills said, "We just need to figure out how to get there in under a month."
"The Hunter's quantum wave drive?" Bryant suggested, "If the Vulcan ships move in close enough, the field should encompass them as well."
"I could power it directly with a modulated power transfer beam," Peron added, "We'd be there in minutes and could remove the Hunter's drive to bring the Vulcans back."
"Make it so," Mills said, getting rolled eyes from both Neal and Gabriel.
The captain was happy to see his crew working together. He did, however, notice that Steele hadn't spoken at all. Other than responding to orders, Steele usually didn't say anything.
"Commander Steele," Mills said, leaning towards the shuttle officer, "Do you have any thoughts?"
"I think we should beat up on the Hunter a bit more," Steele replied, "Make sure they won't repair. Perhaps beam some antipersonnel devices to their bridge and engine room?"
"No need," Walker said, looking at a sensor display on her console, "I'm not detecting any systems online over there. Without life support, the crew should be dead."
***
T'Kar was puzzled by this strange encounter. First they'd been contacted by a strange ship, told to engage a large and powerful enemy vessel, and then told afterward to move in close and attach their tractor beams to the strange ship. "Commander?" the navigator asked as the commander pondered the strange request.
"Move us in and lock tractor beams," T'Kar ordered.
"Yes, commander," the navigator replied, "Might I inquire as to why we are trusting this strange vessel?"
"The large ship locked weapons on us, the small one defended us. Whatever is happening here, they need our help and we aren't in a position to refuse it," T'Kar said, "Our policy of noninterference doesn't apply here, since our technology is inferior to theirs. Additionally, the fact that they can transmit in our language means they've dealt with Vulcans before."
"Yes," the navigator replied a he maneuvered the ship and activated the beams.
"Commander," the science officer said, "I'm getting strange energy readings from the smaller ship. They're using a beam on the larger vessel, causing the same energy buildup there."
Before T'Kar could issue any orders to record the scans, the stars on the screen rippled and changed. "The energy readings are gone," the science officer said.
"And we've moved almost four hundred light-years," the navigator added, "We're being signaled to move forward and dump this ship into the quantum singularity."
***
Admiral Okada staggered to his feet. The bridge smoldered around him and smoke filled the room. He moved a dead officer from the navigator's seat and configured the console to allow for control of the entire vessel, at a somewhat limited capacity. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to control. Every system was offline, except for the emergency systems in the independent bridge module. About fifty meters long, the module would keep the bridge crew, and the all-important commander, alive to await rescue. It could also detach and move at warp, functioning as a small starship. Okada had his bridge module fitted with its own quantum wave drive as well, to allow him to escape to his home universe as well. The drive would burn out after the single use, but it would be all he needed.
"Sir?" a wear voice said behind him.
It was Orson Scott, the engineer. "Scott," Okada ordered, "Take your station and get the passive sensors of the bridge module online. I want to see what's happening."
The engineer was good, which is why Okada had him in the crew in the first place. A few moments later, the viewer came to life. "So, they're dragging us into a black hole," Okada said, "We'll just take our leave then."
"Sir," Scott said, "We won't have the power to break free with our engines. We'll have to burn out our quantum wave drive to get away."
"No. We'll use the drive to get to our home universe. I can slingshot us around this thing."
***
"The Hunter's drive has been beamed aboard," Bryant said, "The vessel is now locked on course for the singularity."
"Have the Vulcans disengage. Let's prepare to use the Hunter's drive to take them back to the Sol system."
"Justin!" Gabriel shouted, "Something's going on. I'm getting a power reading.
Before Mills could make a comment about the use of his first name, or make an order, a the bridge module of the Hunter detached. It was a large enough portion of the saucer to make a small starship of its own. A pair of nacelles was attached to the underside, and it looked like it could fly as well as any of the smaller Starfleet ships. "Phasers, lock on target!" Mills ordered, rising from his chair.
"Unable to comply," Gabriel replied, "They're building up to quantum shift."
The bridge module accelerated forward as if to slingshot around the black hole, then shimmered and disappeared. "Dammit," Mills said, taking his seat, "Stand down weapons, prepare to take us all back to the Sol system to get these Vulcans where they belong."
***
JT Yorke stood in his school gym. It felt strange, to be here at his own memorial service. He stood in the back, with hair dyed black and some slight facial alterations. Mostly it was the lip ring, black emo makeup, and punk clothes that would make him difficult to recognize. Besides, everyone knew that JT was dead and had been cremated, so nobody would look twice to see if it might be him. The captain of the starship, Mills, stood on one side of him while Chris Neal stood on the other.
"This is beyond freaky," JT whispered.
"I guess," Mills replied, "You'll get used to it aboard the ship."
"Yeah," Neal said, "We do lots of 'weird' in Starfleet."
After the memorial, school let out and the three walked toward the exit. "Wait," JT said, "I have to see something."
JT led Mills and Neal to his locker, where flowers and tissue paper art filled the floor. An 8 by 10 photo of JT was taped to the locker's door. At that moment, he lost it. All his defenses, all the blocks he'd put up over his feelings, all his stalling to wait and explode back on the ship, failed completely. "Dammit!" he shouted, rushing toward the locker and punching it.
He drew his hand back, throbbing with pain, and felt Neal put an arm around his shoulder. "He's taking it hard," Mills was explaining to a shocked passerby.
They all moved in Mr. Simpson's media immersion classroom. JT slumped into one of the classroom chairs. Mills pulled another chair over and sat facing JT, while Neal leaned against one of the desks. "Look, JT," Mills said, "I know it's hard."
"You don't know crap!" JT shouted, "JT Yorke is dead, really dead! There's no life, no existence, no future for him. He is gone to anybody who knew him."
"Son," Mr. Simpson said, entering the room to hear the last of JT's statement, "It'll be okay."
"Mr. Simpson," JT said, "I didn't see you come in."
"I heard you from the hallway…" Mr. Simpson started, then trailed off for a moment, "I don't recognize you."
"We're from Lakehurst," Neal said, "Came over for the memorial."
"Thank you for being here, then," Mr. Simpson said, taking a seat at his desk, "Why don't you kids go home. There will be counselors you can talk to tomorrow at your school. I need to lock up for the afternoon."
Mills stood up, indicating for JT and Neal to follow. The three walked down the hallway and ducked into the bathroom. Mills led them into one of the toilet stalls, then pulled out his silver and gold communications badge. "Mills to Slider," he said upon tapping it, "Three to beam up."
Epilogue
Almost a month later, JT stood in the Slider's ventral observation lounge. Only two rooms on the ship had windows: one on top of the habitat section and one on bottom. JT liked the one on bottom because not only were there windows on the forward wall, but the wall sloped downward and became the floor, which was also transparent. He could stand in the front of the room and pretend that he alone was sailing among the stars.
"We should be arriving at El Nanth in an hour."
It was Neal. JT had become friends with Neal and Gabriel during the Slider's journey from the black hole to Earth, then from Earth to El Nanth once they discovered that Starfleet had moved their headquarters. "Am I going to be moving to the base there?" JT asked.
Neal shook his head. "After the initial attack, another pair of enemy battleships, fresh from their assault of a nearby Federation world, attacked. El Nanth is strong, but it may fall one day."
"So I'm safer here? Mills has told me that we'll likely be in battle again soon. What will we be doing, defending some planet?"
JT wasn't angry, at least not at Mills or Neal or Starfleet. He was just mad at being in this situation where he felt he had no control over what happened. He was going to live on a ship that someone else flew, someone else commanded, and someone else kept running. JT had lost control of his life.
"No," Neal replied, "We'll be going on a couple missions to check up on bases that haven't reported in to see if they were destroyed or just damaged. Then see what Starfleet has in store for us. You should get to your studies. We need a good communication officer up there while Steele is busy flying his little fighters."
The teen smiled. Neal was trying to help JT find a purpose. "I'm only seventeen, you know."
"We have a fifteen year old aboard, as well as a sixteen year-old medic," Neal said, placing a reassuring hand on JT's shoulder.
JT looked down at the clear floor. He could see his reflection. The lip ring had been removed, along with the facial alterations. He'd cut his hair short a couple days previous, leaving a short style in his natural sandy color. The haircut made him look older, as did the uniform he'd been issued. He tugged at the uncomfortable red undershirt, with a high collar that JT was sure he'd never get used to. "I guess I should be happy," JT said after a few moments of thought, "I'm alive, and I get to fly around on a ship in space, and even be part of that crew. There's a lot to explore here."
"And all we have to do is save it all first," Neal said, with what JT thought was a hint of nervousness.