Miles pulled the collar of his long charcoal grey coat up both in a vain attempt to shield himself from the worst of the drizzle and, with more success, hide his face from passersby.
Although Earth's weather controls meant hurricanes, tornados and other natural disasters were a thing of the past the traditional European climate has remained temperate in every way, including its amount of annual rainfall. With Keiko and the kids almost a world away Miles had set out for Paris. Wanting to stay off the grid, or as off the grid as you could on the homeworld and seat of the Federation anyway, he'd travelled by skimmer from his earthbound family home to Paris. Skimmers usually only ran these days for the flocks of tourists that flooded to Earth from around the Federation, wanting to see "where it all happened", but Miles had friends in the right places and he'd managed to get put aboard a budget, and very slow moving, cargo hauler running large delicate, and therefore un-transporter-worthy, cargo across the European continent.
Miles turned a corner and into a small alleyway. With his knowledge of the Parisian landscape limited and not wanting to have to keep his eyes glued to a nav-padd, he'd stuck to the main streets, but for his purposes they, with their heavier traffic which included the occasional local security patrol or even Starfleet Officer, were now beginning to be inadequate.
Heading down the dark alleyway being careful to avoid tripping over strewn rubbish, somehow missed by the round the clock collection services, whilst looking behind him at least a dozen times to make sure he wasn't being followed. Paranoia wasn't usually a natural O'Brien trait, but Miles had managed to pick it up over the years; he'd blamed Julian.
He rounded a corner in the alleyway to the right. He was greeted not only by a dead end, but by a duo of well built humans who rose from their sitting position upon his intrusion. Sensing the menace in their glares Miles promptly about faced and began walking away. He was concentrating so hard on listening for their footsteps behind him that he paid no heed to the footsteps coming from in front of him. Rounding that corner in the alleyway he walked straight into a third man, of very similar menacing build and demeanour as the first two.
Oh Miles what have you got yourself into now, Miles thought as the first punch landed on his jaw.
Three days earlier
With the onset of autumn the sun hung low in the sky even at eight-hundred hours as Miles O'Brien, lecturer at Starfleet Academy, rematerialized on the transporter pad. The yellow Starfleet jumpsuit he'd become so accustomed to wearing in his decade plus service in Starfleet had been swapped out for a casually tailored light grey suit, open at the collar and his reading glasses tucked into the jacket outside pocket. Whilst 24th Century medical advances had rendered the need for spectacles obsolete, with any sight imperfection eradicating using powerful and precise lasers, Miles preferred his custom made glasses; he felt they made him more "Teachery". Plus when he worn them at home they were always good for a giggle from Molly, whose favourite trick was to hide them from him in the mornings, a game her younger brother was fast picking up.
He smiled and nodded in thanks to the Academy's transporter operator of whom he hadn't learned the name of as they changed regularly. He walked at a steady pace whilst he finished reading the padd he'd started on the previous night on quantum injectors, or plasma quantifiers, or some such engineering article, using his well practiced skill of using his peripheral vision to weave in and out of the oncoming traffic on-route to his classroom.
Two semesters into his role at Starfleet Academy and Miles still hadn't managed to take a class out of the lecture hall and do anything practical. He'd signed up to teach engineering, not how to read books about engineering. That being said, however, Miles didn't have regret in the world about moving his family away from the frontier and back to Earth. He loved his job, Keiko was more than happy and it was great to be able to see the kids grow up enjoying real sunshine, real air and real gravity. Even if the cost was being chained to a lecture hall.
He'd managed to finish the article and had gotten all the way to his desk, at the bottom and centre of the classically designed elevated spherical lecture hall, and put his padd down before he'd even noticed the lone figure sat at a desk about three rows back. Miles looked up. Thought that it might be a cleaner taking five were pushed aside when he recognized it was Nolan Parker, a good, but not prominently gifted student on his. Nolan was sat in complete silence, books open, staring straight forward, he hadn't even flinched when Miles had entered, or when Miles had looked up at him.
"Mr. Parker," Miles said ascending the first step towards the student, confused concern written across his face.
"Nolan?" Miles persisted climbing the shallow steps until he was parallel with the zombified young man. Not unaccustomed to pranks, although usually at the hands of his peers not his students, Miles' concern was laced with a hint of anticipation.
Still Nolan said nothing and hadn't moved an inch.
"Nolan?" Miles tried once more before deciding to reach out to check the boy's pulse. But as Miles' hand drew close to Nolan's neck the boy suddenly reacted, jerking away from Miles and falling from his chair. Although initially startled by Nolan's abrupt fall Miles' first reaction was to reach over and help him up.
"Mr. O'Brien," Nolan said. All of a sudden, Miles could see the colour he hadn't realized was missing from the lad's face returned and there was life in his eyes once more. It was as if someone had flicked a light bulb on in Nolan's mind.
"Nolan are you ok?"
He had accepted Miles' outstretched hand to haul himself up off the ground. Rising to his feet now Nolan seemed a little unsteady, although the story on his face was more one of wonder, than residual pain or surprise you would have expected from the events he'd just experienced.
"Nolan?" Miles had to repeat, the lad still didn't seem all together there.
Nolan was looking around the lecture hall. Whilst it was a room he'd used for the last two semesters, he was a first year student, it was as if this was the first time he'd ever seen it.
"Where am I?" he asked, finally turning his attention to miles, who had seeing Nolan was physically fine and able to stand unaided had taken a step back.
"Nolan, are you sure you're feeling alright?" Miles persisted, ignoring the seemingly odd question.
"... and who are you?" It was Nolan's turn to ignore a question.
The Starfleet Officer in Miles bubbled to the service. He'd seen the look Nolan worn before, but never on Earth... in a classroom. He'd never call himself a soldier, Miles was a man of peace but he'd lived through two wars; the Cardassian War and the more terrifying and potentially galaxy changing Dominion War, and he'd seen that look on service men on the front lines. Although he was sure Julian would have a more complex techno babble name for it, but Miles would call it shellshock. He reached out to Nolan, Miles didn't know what was wrong but he'd known he had to do something. But as Miles' reach approached Nolan recoiled, taking a step back, and repeating his questions; with more force this time, all the while wearing the same timid, lost looking expression.
"Where am I? Who are you?"
"I'm Miles O'Brien, Nolan; you're at Starfleet Academy, lecture room ten-fifteen-alpha. You're nearly an hour early." Miles had to glance at the chronometer on the wall before confirming the lad over keen timing keeping. He'd had noticed it before but it was all the more obviously now, as his mind adjusted to the circumstances, and Nolan stood further back, but Miles realized his student was still in his nightwear. He was pretty sure of this anyway, Miles wasn't one to keep up with the ever changing fashion these youngsters purported to enjoy, but these almost definitely looked like night clothes.
"Of course. Of course," Nolan said, taking his seat again. Nolan didn't turn to face forward, instead keeping his eyes on Miles, but without staring, almost as if Nolan was listening intently to Miles' half of a conversation and was appearing interested and involved. The expression across Nolan's face changed for a third time, now what Miles would consider normal.
"So, do you mind telling me why you're here an hour early? Why you're still in your dressing gown? And why you fell off your chair a minute ago?" Miles assessment of the situation had changed, and he'd altered his tone to match. The weirdness of a few moments previously in the encounter were now a more distant memory as Nolan appeared to revert to normal. Miles was having that awful feeling he was the butt of some practical joke. But if it was, Miles thought, what's the punch line?
"I am?" Nolan said, turning to face the front again. "I'd best go home and change." Finally taking his focus from his tutor Nolan turned to his books and began packing them away into the satchel he'd stowed under his desk. "I'm sorry Mr. O'Brien," he said throwing the satchel over his shoulder as he stood once more.
By this time Miles had retreated a few steps back down the steps. Although reasonably sure the lad was in no imminent damage he was still nonetheless worried. "Are you sure you're ok Nolan? You seem a little out of sorts."
"Yes, Fine," Nolan said making a bee-line for the nearest exit ducking behind the seating on the row he'd been sat on, obviously trying to avoid getting close to Miles, where his he could entrap him and demand answers.
"I must... I must have eaten something funny. I don't feel right." You don't look right either, Miles thought, and that's what concerns me.
Although genuinely baffled by the encounter he had seen some weird and wonderful things in his time, from a malevolent demi-god called Q to a Klingon who drunk prune-juice, Miles had seen some pretty strange things in this galaxy, and he chalked this one as another one.
After he'd watched Nolan leave he shook his head, half convincing himself it was either the first stage of some elaborate practical joke, or an aborted smaller one, and turned back to the padd with the article on it he'd set down his desk. He picked it up, tapped a few controls, and made it bring up his lesson plan.
An hour and a half later, Miles had shed the trappings of smartness he'd arrived in that morning. In a style only he could pull off his jacket had been abandoned to adorn the nearest unoccupied chair, two more button at the top of his shirt had been undone, the sleeves on his freshly replicated white shirt had been rolled up, and he had put his glasses on. He'd always had a knack for teaching, Nog, was a testament to that, but lecturing large groups of people had been a fresh skill he'd acquired. With his antique glasses perched at the very tip of his nose, he held the padd at full arms distance, which seemed to be the only place his eyes would allow him to focus on it.
"... and that is quantum physics 101," he said setting the padd down and looking around the room. As he glanced around the room, looking for some sort of sign that what he'd been teaching had been absorbed, he saw what you'd expect to see in an institution of learning, a few students rushed to record down on their padds everything he said word for word, others took brief notes, and others wrote nothing at all. What he didn't see, however, was Nolan, the student whose impromptu visit had certainly made this particular morning very odd.
"Thank you class," he ended with, before remembering to add, "Lieutenant Xon is off today, and so your practical is cancelled this afternoon." He let the information sink in for a moment, "See you all tomorrow."
He turned back, grabbed his jacket, draping it over one arm, before using his free arm to pick up the padd he'd brought with him as well as two others some over eager students had asked him to read.
Without thinking he started making his way the staff room. He had two hours to kill before his next lecture, and he wanted to get these student's mock-ups analyzed and given back to their authors ASAP. Miles stopped mid-stride though, resolving to himself whilst he remembered, to go and call on Nolan Parker, make sure he was ok.
Miles had put the padds and his jacket in his locker in the lecturer staff room before standing before a large screened companel set into the wall. It was a standard LCARS configuration, and by default showed a map of Starfleet Academy's main building, ground floor, which is where he currently was. He tapped a few of the controls on the touch screen to bring up a search menu that could show him Nolan's quarters location. A few punches more and the screen changed through several 3D floor layouts. Normally the screen would zoom out, confirm the request verbally, then zoom back in on the requested destination, showing the quickest route and offering a download to a nav-padd. This time however Miles wasn't given any of this. After the display zoomed out a large error message came across the screen, followed by the message's verbalization; "Unable to comply. Student details do not exist."
It was the same voice that accompanied all LCARS work stations, from the Excelsior class vessels built 50 years ago, right up to Defiant. Miles had always thought the voice sounded very similar to Deanna's mother, Lwaxanna Troi's, but when he'd suggested this to the Enterprise's crew it had been dismissed. To this day however, Miles still thought the voice of the Federation standard computer sounded like the Betazoid's.
Puzzled Miles scratched his chin, whilst he ran the search again, wondering if he'd entered a parameter wrong somewhere that was causing the failed return. After double checking the information he was entered he was greeted by the same error message. Frustrated Miles spun around, ready to storm down the next nearest terminal, which he was sure wouldn't be suffering from the same issues this one was encountered. Before he could start walking though, James Redford, was passing on the other side of the hall.
Miles crossed the corridor, his loafers making a solid pounding noise as he moved despite the carpeted floor. In empty corridors, and when he was in enough of a hurry to walk quickly, his footsteps could echo for quite some distance.
"Mr. Redford," he said, having moved quick enough to stand in the student's way. James worn a standard cadet jumpsuit, the emblem of Red Squad on his arm. James was an excellent student, but Miles hadn't realized he'd made the ranks of this elite cadet unit, that become synonymous with excellence during the war.
"You made Red Squad?" Miles commented without thinking, his attention having been drawn to the emblem.
James looked sheepish for a moment, "Oh... yeah, sure."
Miles blinked, "You don't seem too excited?"
"Oh I... am excited Mr. O'Brien. It's just... it was all of a sudden, it hasn't sunken in yet."
"Well, congratulations," Miles offered, wanting to steer the conversation quickly in the direction he needed it to take.
"You're quartered with Nolan Parker right? Have you seen him?"
There was a slight awkward pause, "Err. Mr. O'Brien, I'm quartered with Danny – Cadet Sidwell. I've never heard of a Nolan Parker."
Miles stood gormless for a second; it was such an unexpected thing to say he was dumbfounded. Two semesters long he'd seen James and Nolan sitting together, two semesters long he'd had to split them up to prevent them from sharing notes and quiz answers.
"You're joking right?" That feeling that this was all an elaborate practical joke was returning, in earnest.
"I'm not really sure what you mean sir," James said sincerely and honestly.
"... but I really have to get to class," James smiled and nodded, having made his excuse he made a quit exit.
"But..." Miles said weakly as James walked away, if the boy heard he chose to ignore it and carried on walking.
Just as the urge to fling his arms up in defeat and cry out to whoever was orchestrating this practical joke, who Miles assumed was watching, that they'd won and he didn't want to play anymore, he decided on a more practical course of action.
Returning to the companel he keyed in James Redford's name. This time the display had no trouble giving Miles the information. Armed with a location and a quickly memorized route Miles set off, determined to get the bottom of this.