Star Trek: The Endless River

Note: This follows my earlier "Star Trek: Icarus" and "Star Trek: Simulacrum," but is meant to be readable as a standalone as well. Set a century after TNG, it follows the voyages of the USS Icarus, an experimental science vessel with a crew of seven, plus one mysterious passenger, on Starfleet's first mission into the Galactic Core (except for the Enterprise in "The Nth Degree" and, uh, Star Trek V...?). Follows primary but not secondary canon.

Karachi, Earth, 2424

At the center of the city, in the midst of towering skyscrapers whose architecture combines the ancient, the futuristic, and the alien, a blue Federation flag blows in the wind. On a pole next to it is a yellow flag bearing the Starfleet insignia. In front of the flags, there is a monument in an angular, abstract design. Part of the monument is holographic, and as its shape slowly changes in three dimensions, names are visible in tiny script, each followed by a year.

An elderly woman is gazing at the monument, taking in the names of the fallen. She has weathered skin, and wears a black and blue headscarf and a Starfleet uniform with purple-grey shoulders. On her blue collar are pips denoting the rank of lieutenant commander. She stands to the side of a small crowd of humans and aliens.

A young woman is approaching from behind. She is short, with shoulder-length black hair and dark eyes. She wears the grey uniform of cadet, with black trim and pants, and her combadge has the shine of one freshly replicated, bearing the wire frame of the Starfleet insignia in front of two trapezoidal vertical bars.

The old woman smiles as the cadet stands next to her. "Peace be upon you, Zia."

"And upon you, peace, grandmother." The two exchange a hug.

"I'm glad you're here. There are fewer people here every year."

"I try to make it every Federation Day," the young woman says. "But it has special resonance this year."

"Yes, I'm sure it does. How is your first semester?"

"Challenging. But I really do feel like I belong. That I'm in the right place."

"I'm glad to hear that." Her grandmother turns back to the flags. "You're the first of our family in Starfleet since I left."

"I was inspired by you, grandmother. Your stories about your time on the Enterprise."

"Ah yes. I do miss those days, sometimes." There is a faraway look in her eyes. "It's mostly the people I miss. My friends. And of course, Captain Picard, Commander Data, and the rest of them. We junior officers didn't interact with them much, but they were all such wonderful people."

"It's my dream to serve on the new Enterprise."

The old woman says nothing for a long time.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Zia."

The young woman hesitates. "Why did you leave Starfleet?"

Her grandmother looks pensive. "Because of this, mostly," she says, gesturing towards the cenotaph. "We lost so many. To the Borg during the temporal incursion incident. To the stone-faced killers from the Gamma Quadrant. So many of my friends." She breathes deeply. "And I couldn't shake the idea that it was all a result of Starfleet's mission. Galactic exploration. Would any of the wars we've fought have happened, if we hadn't kept boldly going where we shouldn't have gone? How many member worlds of the Federation paid the price because they believed in our ideals, in our project? In Starfleet? We humans were so arrogant back then. But in some ways, the Federation has outgrown us, and I think it may be for the best. People just want to live in peace."

"There's still a need for Starfleet," the cadet says.

"Yes, of course." The old woman looks at her compassionately. "And I am so proud of you, my granddaughter, and I know you'll be such a fine officer. But just remember that a lot of people join Starfleet because they feel like they're missing something. And they feel like they will find it by ordering their life according to Starfleet's principles, or that they can find it out there in space. And there are a lot of beautiful, terrible things in space. But what you're looking for, you won't find it in space. We are the final frontier."

The cadet is silent.

"But do you know the one thing that I've never been able to get out of my head ,even after all these years?"

"What, grandmother?"

"The time we all got Barclay's Protomorphosis Syndrome. I had it really bad. I turned into a lichen. I wasn't even able to form thoughts, but I was aware of it, somehow. It's very hard to explain. To completely lose your humanity…" She stares once again at the flags. "Starfleet's therapists are second to none. But that's something that just… you're never quite the same."


Sector GC807, Galactic Core, 2459

Captain's Log, Stardate 136645.8

After hitting the half-way point of our four-month mission, Icarus has arrived at Lambda Taurus 8-vii, the first world we've encountered in the Galactic Core with signs of a functioning civilization. After receiving an automated signal, we're preparing to make first contact with the Taurii, as we call them, on the inhospitable moon they call home. Scans have determined that the Taurii are colonial lifeforms, where each 'individual' Tauri is a composite of thousands of smaller lifeforms, while at a macro level, they live in a complex civilization. Because conventional warp travel is impossible in the Galactic Core, Starfleet Command has agreed with me that we may initiate contact with non-warp-capable species of equivalent technological advancement. I've left Dr. Alomar in command of Icarus, and for the away team, I've opted to use bio-mods rather than environmental suits to allow us to survive in the moon's methane-based atmosphere, as Commander Sparks has advised me that face-to-face first contacts almost universally go more smoothly.

Three Starfleet officers materialize in the midst of a thick orange-brown haze, two humans and a Tellarite. They are standing in the middle of a wide, high chamber seemingly hewn from dark stone. The space is illuminated by glowing translucent spheres of shifting colours which seem to float above their heads. Standing around the chamber is a small crowd of grey tube-shaped beings, approximately two to three meters tall. The tubes are gnarled and knotted like tree trunks, pale grey in colour, and stand upright in the dense atmosphere on a thick mass of black tendrils.

The captain catches her first officer's eye as her modified lungs adjust to the noxious atmosphere. "Ready?"

"Always," replies the first officer, a tall, well-built man with dark skin and a close-cropped beard.

"I still think this is a bad idea," the Tellarite grunts.

"They wanted to meet the woman who developed superspace drive," the captain tells her. "Just behave."

One of the beings steps forward from the group toward the officers. A series of black polyps emerge from crevasses in the being's shell and point at the captain as she steps forward.

"Greetings," she says. "I am Captain Zia Rashid of the United Federation of Planets. This is my first officer, Commander Isaiah Sparks, and my chief engineer, Dr. Pon. We are on a mission of exploration in this region of space. We come in peace."

The alien towers over Rashid, and seems to slide towards her on the tendrils.

The polyps begin to flicker with phosphorescent light in pale colours. As they blink red and blue, purple and yellow, the officers hear a synthetically rendered voice from the alien.

"Greetings, visitors from another place." they say. "We are Shale Plain 67451. On behalf of the League of Clades, we welcome you to our world."

Pon leans close to Sparks and whispers, "A bioluminescence-based language. Interesting. You don't see that very much." Sparks nods in acknowledgment, focused intently on the Taurii.

"We come from the Galactic Rim," Rashid is saying. "The Federation is an alliance of over 200 different species, committed to principles of peaceful coexistence, scientific development and self-fulfillment of individuals and communities. My ship, Icarus, is the first Federation vessel in the Galactic Core, and part of our mission is to establish relations with the peoples of this region." She smiles. "I hope this meeting can be the beginning of a harmonious relationship between the Federation and the League of Clades."

"That is our hope as well," the alien says. A second Tauri moves forward, and the first continues, "We present Grew-in-Daylight 246113, expert on alien life who constructed the probe which made contact with you."

Rashid's eyes focus on the second Tauri, which is taller and more gnarled than the first, its shell splitting into two branches near the top. "It is an honour to meet you," she addresses the being.

"We are honoured as well," they say. "The existence of life beyond our world has been proven for many cycles, but we have never directly encountered an alien species before. We wish to know: how have you solved the conundrum of faster-than-light travel?"

Pon shuffles forward. "Well, that's kind of hard to explain, because first you need to have some understanding of warp mechanics. Which maybe you have, but why would you, when the stellar density in the Galactic Core makes warp travel impossible? Which is where superspace mechanics come in. One day I thought to myself, 'I bet it's possible to sustain a warp field if you create a static field of superspace inside the subspace bubble.' But of course you normally can't do that because of the La Forge differentials. But I was able to get around that particular problem by using repolarized anti-proton bursts routed through the deflector grid of the ship to invert the transphasic field harmonics of the superspace field. Kind of obvious, in hindsight."

"Fascinating," says Grew-in-Daylight.

Shale Plain tilts toward Rashid. "It is almost time for the Standing, a ritual among our people during which we engage in discourse while absorbing nutrients. It is said that Standing together forms the foundation of true friendship. While your biological requirements may be different than ours, we hope you will engage in the social aspects of the ritual with us."

"We would be honoured," Rashid says.

The Tauri's polyps face Grew-in-Daylight. "Join us as well, elder."

The second Tauri says nothing. Shale Plain drifts toward them, then pauses when a black, dome-shaped device with red lights emerges from one of the branches of Grew-in-Daylight's shell.

Pon's tricorder beeps. She opens it and a look of alarm appears on her face. "Captain," she whispers, "that device generates lambda radiation. If it turns on, we're all going to die."

Grew-in-Daylight drifts toward them. "Control of my actions has been taken over by a faction of my internal population who believe that we must seize control of your ship by any means necessary. It is crucial for the development of our species."

"Elder," Shale Plain says to them, "you must return control of yourself to your legitimate internal government. You cannot act according to the dictates of a fanatical minority within you. We must establish good relations with these aliens."

"We are prepared to provide you access to our ship's technical schematics," Rashid adds. "You have knowledge of this region of space – we came here with the intention to arrange an exchange of information. There's no need for violence."

"It is too late," Grew-in-Daylight says. "We have used our security clearance to reprogram the League's defensive arsenal. It will disable the alien ship and kill its crew. You may not agree with us, Shale Plain. But if you try to prevent this, we will activate this device and kill us all, and the outcome will be the same. The League will have the alien ship."

Several Taurii begin to approach Grew-in-Daylight, who leans toward them threateningly. The device begins to glow, and the Taurii back down.

Rashid discreetly touches her combadge. "Rashid to Icarus. Tomas, do you read me?"

There is no answer. She casts a glance at Sparks and asks in a low voice, "Your opinion as a first contact specialist, Commander?"

He watches the Taurii intently and strokes his close-cut beard. "Normally I'd say we sit tight and hope the aliens work it out among themselves, but if we're at risk of losing the ship…"

"I agree." She glances at Pon. "Are they jamming us? Can you get through it?"

She taps her tricorder and scowls. "I can't figure out where it's coming from. Their technology is gnarfing bizarre."

"Keep at it," Rashid tells the Tellarite. Then she approaches Grew-in-Daylight, whose shell is now partially inside a translucent sphere. "Allow us to return to our ship, and we can reach a peaceful solution. The Federation does not want conflict, but if you kill us, it will be considered a hostile act."

"All the more reason we must study your technology," Grew-in-Daylight responds, moving out of the sphere. "Our commands have been issued to the orbital weapons system, and all further communication has been severed. Even we cannot stop the system now."

High above their heads, in the thin outer reaches of the moon's atmosphere, several dozen small, angular spacecraft materialize. They fly in a geometric formation into the starlit space above the moon, cast in the blue light of the gas giant, and move towards Icarus.

On the bridge of the small Starfleet vessel, Dr. Tomas Alomar watches the approaching craft on the viewscreen which extends around the bridge in all directions, giving the appearance of being open to space. "Tactical analysis, Lieutenant Avala," the middle-aged man says in a deep, rich voice.

The young Andorian's antennae point toward Alomar. "It looks like a planetary weapons system, sir. They appear to be drones, and they're heavily shielded – I doubt our weapons will do much against them."

"Sir," says Lieutenant Susan Sorensen, a pale human woman in her late thirties seated at the science station, "I'm detecting a power surge coming from the drones. It looks like they're generating a lot of lambda radiation."

Alomar leans forward in the captain's chair. "Yellow alert. Take us away from those drones, Mr. Rylek. Two thirds impulse."

"Aye, sir," the young Vulcan ensign replies.

The arrowhead-shaped prow of the ship turns away from the drones, which dart past the Icarus' four nacelles and affix themselves to the stern section.

The bridge shudders slightly as the drones make impact. Sorensen looks up from her console, an expression of anxiety on her face. "They're trying to interface with the main computer. It looks like they're trying to rewrite our systems."

Alomar looks stern. "If this is their way of saying hello, it's a bit intrusive for my liking. Lock out our primary systems."

The lights dim, and the consoles fade from reality before reconsolidating as the secondary matter projectors activate. "I've set up a polyalgorythmic firewall," Sorensen reports, "but I can't say how long it'll hold."

"Can we transport them off our hull?" Alomar asks.

"Negative, sir," Avala replies through gritted teeth. "They're generating too much radiation."

"Sir," Rylek says to Alomar, his voice wavering, "I have lost access to helm control."

Alomar glances at a holographic readout near the right arm of the command chair. "It looks like life support is next. Vanda, do we have a two-way link with their computer system? Perhaps two can play at this game."

Avala throws up her hands in frustration. "I wish I could, but I have no idea what I'm looking at. This isn't like any other computer system I've ever seen."

The lights flicker again. Alomar leans back in the command chair. "What about our passenger? She used to work as a code breaker for the Orion Syndicate, did she not?"

Avala narrows her dark blue eyes. "Respectfully, sir, I think it would be extremely unwise to give her access to the main computer."

"And yet if we do nothing, there may not be a main computer left." He taps a holographic symbol. "Alomar to Lerex. Report to the bridge immediately."

There is no response. He turns to Rylek. "Ensign, she's proven most willing to speak to you. Internal sensors show she is in the holodeck. Get her up here."

"Aye, sir." Rylek leaves his station and enters the turbolift. After a moment, he emerges in a corridor on a lower deck of the ship. He steps through the holodeck door and emerges on a cliffside next to a vast, iridescent river. A distant, luminous planet hangs overhead, and behind it, the galaxy stretches across the night sky. Sitting on a green bank overlooking the water is a woman clad in a black jumpsuit, facing away from him.

"Lerex," he says.

She turns to face him. Her dark hair frames the intricate tattoos covering her face, and one eye is covered by a green eyepiece mounted on a cybernetic implant attached to her temple. "What do you want?"

"The ship is under attack," he tells her. "We require your expertise."

"I'm not going to help you," Lerex says, her voice quick and nervous. "It doesn't matter to me what happens to this ship. Let me die here on Romulus."

"Romulus does not exist anymore."

"I abandoned my mission. By our code of honour, I should not exist either."

The ship lurches, and the holographic landscape flickers. Rylek steps closer. "Captain Rashid could have left you to die on the planet where we found you. Instead, she took you on board. She gave you a second chance at life. Does your code of honour not obligate you to repay her?"

Lerex stares at him for a moment, then stands, reaching out her cybernetic hand.

"Come with me to the bridge," he tells her.

"There will be no need for that," the Romulan replies. A red light glows on the palm of her hand, and their holographic surroundings vanish, replaced by thousands of lines of translucent alien code which spin around her. Her eyes roll back into her head as she manipulates the code. Soon, it snaps into alignment and vanishes.

Lerex faces Rylek. "It's done. Tell your captain my debt to her is paid."

Rylek blinks, glancing around the empty holodeck. "You have my thanks."

"I'm not interested in your thanks." Her green eyes seem to peer through him. "But we are kin. There was no need for you to needlessly perish."

"Thank… I mean, I concur with your logic."

Lerex is expressionless. "You may leave now."

"Er… yes." Rylek hurriedly exits the holodeck and returns to the bridge. After he leaves, Lerex opens her cybernetic hand, and the red light reactivates.

The turbolift doors open and Rylek enters the bridge. Alomar turns the command chair to face the young Vulcan. "Great work, ensign. The probes have been disabled. It seems we may have some use for Lerex after all."

"Yeah," Avala adds. "I just wish she wasn't always such a c–" She is interrupted by a beep from her console, and her antennae dart toward it. "I've reestablished contact with the away team."

"Put them through," Alomar tells her.

There is a burst of static which resolves into a male voice. "Commander Sparks here. Come in, Icarus."

"This is Icarus," Alomar replies.

"It's good to hear from you, Tomas. What's your status?"

"We had some trouble with some of the locals' automated weaponry, but we were able to disable them. Largely thanks to our Romulan guest."

"Glad to hear she's doing something besides monopolizing the holodeck," Sparks says. "Can you get a lock on us?"

Avala nods, and Alomar says, "Aye, sir."

"Very good," Sparks replies, glancing at Rashid, who is watching the Taurii closely. "Stand by for transport." He approaches the captain and says in a low voice, "I've made contact with Icarus. The Tauri weapon is disabled, and they're ready to beam us aboard."

"Tell them to stand by," Rashid tells him. "I think we can resolve this here."

"Sir, if we can get out of here now, we should do it. Protocol dictates we let the aliens resolve this themselves."

"I agree with Sparks," Pon says in a coarse whisper, her beady eyes trained on the aliens. "We should get the hell out of here. I don't give a gnarf about these tube people."

Rashid holds up a hand. "Just hang on. That's an order."

"Captain," Pon protests as Rashid steps toward Grew-in-Daylight, who is still brandishing the radiation device. "We've disabled your orbital weapon," she addresses the being.

"It matters not," they say. "We have you here. If your crew does not deliver your ship to us, you will die."

"I don't think you're going to do that," Rashid says to the being.

"You doubt my resolve," they say.

"I think you're a scientist," she replies. "Like me."

"I know that my people cannot survive on this world alone," Grew-in-Daylight replies, their fronds gesticulating rapidly, generating a dizzy cloud of luminescent colours. "A single world can be destroyed by a burst of gamma radiation or any number of other phenomena beyond our control. We must travel to the stars. If I must forfeit my own life and yours to accomplish that goal, it is a price I will gladly pay."

Rashid narrows her dark eyes as she addresses the Tauri. "This doesn't have to be a zero-sum game. We can work together. My people are committed to peaceful scientific exchange. The League of Clades has valuable information about the Galactic Core, and if you're prepared to share that information, we're ready to pass on what we know about travel in this region. Scientist to scientist. We can bridge the gap between our peoples. All we have to do is trust each other."

The Tauri looms over her. "No. Surrender your ship to us."

"I'm not going to do that." She stares up at the alien.

"Then I will kill us all."

"If that's really how you want your first contact with an alien species to go," Rashid replies.

Shale Plain moves close to Grew-in-Daylight. "She is right, Elder. Put down the weapon."

There is a long silence. Then Grew-in-Daylight's fronds retract into their shell.

"What is happening?" Rashid asks.

"The Elder has entered internal negotiations," Shale Plain explains. "I will commune with them to ensure the negotiations are successful."

Shale Plain's tendrils wrap around Grew-in-Daylight's shell and probe into the crevasses. Several other aliens move forward and extend their tendrils into Grew-in-Daylight.

Rashid backs up, and Sparks steps to her side, his hand near his combadge, watching the interlocked aliens sway gently back and forth in the reddish-brown haze. "What do you think is going on in there?"

The toxic wind catches Rashid's dark hair. "I think," she says as the aliens move apart and the device descends back into Grew-in-Daylight's shell, "that our mission is a success."


The Icarus transporter room is flooded with light, and Rashid, Sparks, and Pon materialize on the platform. Alomar smiles from behind the console. "Welcome back. All bio-mods have been removed."

"Yeah, no shit," Pon grunts. "Otherwise our flesh would be dissolving right now."

Ignoring the Tellarite, Alomar says to Rashid, "I trust the rest of your mission was a success?"

"It was." Rashid steps off the platform and tugs her uniform. "We participated in a ritual called the Standing, and set an agenda for future contact between the Federation and the League of Clades. Dr. Pon was even able to keep her complaining to herself for a change."

"I have never been so bored in my entire life," Pon grumbles as they step into the turbolift.

"Bridge," Rashid says. She turns to Pon as the lift moves. "It wasn't really that different from your mud baths."

"It was entirely different," she retorts.

"And I'm happy to see the ship still in one piece," Rashid says to Alomar. "It's good to put your officer training to use, old friend." The lift door opens. "Isaiah, you have the bridge. Set a course to the subspace relay. I'll do the paperwork to send to Starfleet."

"Aye, captain," Sparks replies as Rashid and Pon exit the lift. As Sparks moves to leave, Alomar gestures for him to stay behind.

"How was she?" the doctor asks in a low voice.

"Better," Sparks answers quietly. "More animated than I've seen her in weeks. You're still concerned about her?"

"As our captain, no. But as her friend… she seems troubled. Perhaps it's nothing. But do keep an eye on her for me, please."

"Of course, doctor." They exit the lift, and Sparks sits in the command chair and gazes at the viewscreen, stroking his black beard. The brown moon moves into the shadow of the gas giant, still illuminated by the ever-present glow of the stars of the Galactic Core.

Continued soon! Feel free to drop a review.