2229.03
Argelian Sector, FCS
Juniper Carnegie

"Is that a book?"

Amanda glanced up from her volume of Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said and discovered a blond man with chubby red cheeks wagging his brows at her. They were so thick and bushy they gave him the appearance that he was a caricature of someone else rather than a real person standing right in front of her.

"You know it is," Amanda replied, rolling her eyes and raising it slightly to indicate she wasn't interested in conversation.

He didn't take the hint. He pulled out the chair opposite her and parked himself with an unceremonious thump. He leaned down to examine the front of her book and asked, "Who is Philip K. Dick?"

"The author of this book."

"What sort of things does he write about?"

"The future."

"Sounds interesting. Bet you are too."

"I am, but it doesn't mean I'm interested in you." Her eyes flicked upward and she forced a fake smile.

He shot her a dark look, slid the chair out from underneath himself with a piercing screech, and muttered, "Hope you enjoy your book."

"Have a good afternoon," she replied brightly, though she wasn't sure it was afternoon anymore. The room was filling up, so it was probably close to cocktail hour.

She turned her attention back to the book, feeling like the only man she wanted in her life at that very moment was the novel's protagonist, the ill-used Jason Taverner. She kept one eye on the page and the other on the open room, and upon spying a swarthy man at the bar heading in her direction, swung her leg onto the seat of the opposite chair and pulled it closer toward herself. The man changed course. She was safe.

She would have preferred to remain in her quarters, but the neighbors to her left were fighting and the neighbors to her right had a habit of engaging in frequent bouts of noisy lovemaking. Every day of the last week aboard the Juniper Carnegie had been like the hell of Valentine's Day on repeat. She didn't know what she'd expected: it was a singles cruise.

The cruise was a gift from her mother, given to Amanda for her twenty-fifth birthday. She was twenty-six now and still not looking to enter into a serious relationship, but here she was all the same. She'd never really planned on taking this cruise at all—being stuck on a space boat with a bunch of lonely and horny people wasn't really her concept of fun and she was secretly terrified of space—but she had been in desperate need of a vacation and it was already paid for and the school was on month-long break for the winter.

In hindsight, Amanda wished she'd stayed home where she could keep her two feet on the ground, the real ground. She could have gone to the beach. She could have gone camping. It had been years since she'd gone camping. But camping had always been something she did with her dad and he stayed so busy with work and his new family.

Her eyes scanned the page and she realized she'd been reading the same sentence over and over without really taking it in. The din in the room was reaching an annoying pitch and she saw suitor number three stalking toward her table. She kicked her other leg up into the chair across from her and narrowed her eyes, but still he came.

"Um, do you need this chair?" he asked, pointing to the chair with his thumb while looking over his shoulder at a large party.

"Oh," she blushed, sitting up straight. "No, not really. In fact, you can have this one too. I was just leaving."

"Sure, thanks. Say, is that a book?" he asked, cocking a playful eyebrow.

"You're a sharp one."

"I didn't know people still read things printed on paper. I don't even think my grandma did."

She turned on her heel without further comment and headed out of the lounge. There were gentlemen's eyes on her but she didn't take it personally.

Once in the hallway, she found herself adrift. She doubted whether the adventurous woman in the cabin adjacent to hers was done with that day's lover and most public spaces on the ship were probably full up with people ready to mingle. She briefly considered changing into some nicer clothes and joining the desperate mob, but she wanted to finish her book and tomorrow they would arrive on Argelius II and she would have plenty of time to be social then.

She wandered down the corridor. She passed the gym and finding it empty, parked herself on a padded bench and got through half a chapter before a pair of couples entered in skimpy athletic attire and made a disgusting show of lifting the grav weights.

She tried the café next, then the pool on the lower decks, but a coffee aficionado group and a lively game of water volleyball conspired to thwart her reading plans. She found a room in a dusty corner of the seventh deck labelled as a janitorial closet and certainly wouldn't have minded curling up in the company of cleaning bots and droids, but it was regrettably locked.

"Can I help you find something?" The question belonged to a bright-faced young woman wearing the drab jumpsuit of the ship's crew.

"I was just looking for a quiet place to read."

"Not a lot of quiet places at this hour," the woman smiled. "Aside from maybe your cabin."

"Doubtful," Amanda muttered, thinking of her awful neighbors. "But thanks anyway."

She strolled along different decks until her rumbling stomach convinced her to stop by one of the restaurants on Deck 9. She really didn't see the point in having different restaurants at all because while they all had different menus and different themes, all the food served in them came out of the same replicators in the central kitchen. She chose the option with the fewest number of patrons, the little Greek place wedged between a rowdy Mexican restaurant and the dressier Italian restaurant. Unfortunately, it was still a pretty packed house and the attendant at the door seemed utterly confused when she requested a table for one in a more secluded spot.

"So, you're… by yourself?"

Why was that so hard to believe? Amanda furrowed her brow and impatiently waved her arms in a small circle, gesturing to the crowd of exactly zero people she'd showed up with, but managed to keep the sarcastic reply sequestered to the tip of her tongue. It was easy to be rude to creepy guys trying to hit on her in the lounge, but it wasn't really in her nature to be mean to service staff. Still, it was a pretty ridiculous question. "Yep, just me."

"We don't really have tables for just one person," the hostess replied. "You could sit at the bar with no wait."

Amanda forced herself to smile. "I guess that'll have to do."

She managed to find a seat in the corner and counted her lucky stars that the bartender was clearly a no-nonsense type who didn't relish in extended heart-to-hearts with his customers. She ordered some kind of fruity alien cocktail and asked for a menu, and just as she was about to flag down the bartender from the other side of the bar to request an order of the stuffed mushrooms, someone asked, "Anyone sitting here?"

The voice was baritone and British and belonged to a tall, stocky man with an honest face and kind eyes. A gentle giant, if she ever saw one. Her initial instinct was to lie and claim the seat belonged to some made up partner who would return from the restroom at any moment, but she supposed if she didn't surrender the seat to this one, someone else would ask for it eventually and besides, he looked normal enough. There was no telling what the next claimant would be like.

"Um, yeah, it's uh- it's open."

"Nice, thanks."

Amanda nodded and turned her focus back to the bartender.

"Can I borrow the menu from you?" her new companion asked.

"Sure." Amanda turned the restaurant's PADD off and slid it across the bar with her two forefingers.

His mouth fell open and he pointed to her book. "Is that-"

"A book, yes," she finished.

"Well, obviously," he laughed. "I was actually going to ask if that was Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said, but I can see now that it is. I love that one. I liked The Zap Gun better though."

"You like old timey science fiction?"

"Who doesn't?" he retorted, feigning a look of shock. "Philip K. Dick, Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein."

Amanda's jaw dropped. "Not many people have heard of them."

"Not many people are interesting enough to appreciate the finer things in life," he shrugged. He held out his right hand and said, "Simon. Simon Brandon."

"Simon Brandon? Two first names?"

He rolled his eyes in a look of mock contempt. "Let's see you do better."

She returned his handshake and replied, "Amanda Grayson."

"So, Amanda Grayson, what brings you to this voyage of the damned?"

She didn't even bother trying to hide her laugh. "My mother thought it was time I found a serious boyfriend and decided this was the best birthday present a single twenty-something could ask for."

He made a pained face. "Ah, mum wants grandchildren before she dies. Brutal."

"What about you?" she sighed.

"Ah, well, my fiancé dumped me four days before our wedding and ran off with my best mate. Two years later and I realized I never redeemed my honeymoon tickets and they were about to expire, so I exchanged them for a less couples oriented cruise and here I am."

"I'm not really sure how to respond to that."

"Yeah, it's a tough act to follow. So uh, what do you do when you're not dodging your mum's awkward questions and reading outdated science fiction?"

"Uh well, I'm from New Chicago. I'm a science teacher. Sixth grade."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it. I'm on winter break right now, but I almost can't wait to go back. What about you?"

"I'm a logistics manager at a private firm."

"And you? Do you like your job?"

"No, I hate it, actually."

"You're really good at awkward segues," Amanda moaned, taking a long draft of her berry-flavored cocktail.

"We all have our special talents," he laughed, skimming the menu. "So that's what you do, but what do you do for fun?"

"Oh, you know, the usual things. I'm a bit of a homebody, really. But I guess I like gardening and reading and knitting." Simon didn't seem to be listening, so she casually added, "And you know, illegal, underground, bareknuckle boxing matches."

His head whipped up from the menu. "Yeah?"

"Of course not, but it was my turn to make an awkward segue." She shot him a teasing smile.

All in all, they had fairly nice dinner conversation that lasted an hour, but around 1930 hours, they went their separate ways. Simon had asked for her contact information and though she wasn't really sure why, she'd politely refused. Thankfully, he hadn't really pressed her.

Simon Brandon, the large, non-threatening, neither handsome nor hideous, jilted logistics manager from Bristol, proud owner of two Yorkshire terriers, a dry sense of humor, and a deep passion for science fiction would have made a nice enough and reasonably compatible boyfriend, but she just couldn't bring herself to go through with it. Amanda liked him and her mom probably would have loved him, but she just couldn't see herself settling down with anyone. While it was true that giving him her contact info wasn't exactly the same thing as entering into a marriage contract, she didn't feel interested in stringing him along. Why go out with him if she didn't want to get serious?

For that matter, why did so many people treat being single like it was some kind of disease? A few random, casual dates every now and again could be fun when both parties agreed to keep things short-lived, but she'd never felt the need for anything more serious. If she were going to be perfectly honest with herself, she rather liked the idea of living alone, answering to nothing and no one. Every mess in her tiny apartment was hers and hers alone, so why rock the boat and bring in someone who would leave dirty socks in the bathroom or wake her up when he came home late or drink the last of the orange juice?

Most of her married friends would say she just hadn't found "the one," but the idea of anything remotely resembling soulmates was more than a little ridiculous, especially considering the number of friends who started relationships swearing their new love was written in the stars, only to ask Amanda to help to pick of the pieces of their broken hearts years, months, or sometimes even weeks later.

She trickled back to her room, but no sooner was she through the door than there was a purposeful thwack on the wall, followed by a woman screaming, "Oh yes! Yes! Just like that! Don't stop!" Amanda's face contorted into a reflexive grimace, but supposing her neighbor was just about done, she flopped down on her bed, stared at the ceiling, and waited for the cries of ecstasy to stop.

What the hell had she been thinking, coming on a singles cruise?


2229.03
Argelian Sector, USS
Bell

"You ready, ambassador?" The voice behind him was young and eager.

Sarek craned his neck to see the ship's assistant engineering officer approaching his position along the wide portal window.

"What should I be ready for?" Sarek replied. "I was invited here merely to witness the test of this prototype. I serve no official function, nor have I any official duties that relate to the execution of this demonstration."

"Right," Lieutenant Schneider replied, his childlike complexion reddening. "I only meant, it's exciting, isn't it? First new warp drive in twenty years and we get to be here to see it off on its maiden voyage."

"This is the first novel warp engine design to be tested in twenty-two years," he corrected, shifting his eyes from the officer back toward the portal. "And it would be illogical to classify a preliminary test as a voyage."

Lieutenant Schneider continued rambling about the specifications of the Peregrine X7, and though Sarek listened politely, he was more interested in studying the planet below. While it was not the specific reason he was present on the observation deck of the USS Bell today, it was the reason he was in this sector in the first place.

The Bell was in orbit of a small, isolated, uninhabited M Class planet in the Argelian Sector known as Arg-117P, the possession of which was hotly contested. The nearest inhabited planet was Argelius II, which was not a Federation member, but according to interstellar star charts, the Arg-117P fell just inside Federation space. Though not bound by Federation laws, the Argelians did have a trade agreement with the Federation, as well as several treaties with the Federation granting Starfleet vessels access to its ports in exchange for routine patrols of their space. Argelius II was situated perilously close to the Romulan Neutral Zone, and Starfleet's presence offered many social and economic benefits.

Argelius II was a popular tourist destination, both for Starfleet crews on shore leave and Federation civilians. The Argelians desired to expand their vacation industry to Arg-117P and had plans to develop the planet's three small continents into locales that could rival Risa, but the Federation had already earmarked the planet for the site of a future starbase and port and eventually, a planetside colony.

Argelius II and the Federation had been in informal negotiations for nearly four years to resolve their dispute over Arg-117P, with many compromises and counteroffers proposed, but because both sides were eager to maintain an amicable association yet neither side was willing to budge on its claim to the planet, the Federation had finally decided to send a formal arbiter to meet with the Argelian government. They had sent Sarek.

He had traveled to the Argelian Sector aboard the USS Bell, a Horizon-class Starfleet research vessel whose mission was to field test new propulsion upgrades and equipment. He was not due on Argelius II for five more days, and so in the interim, he was relegated to the status of diplomatic guest aboard the Bell.

The Bell was a vessel staffed almost exclusively by human engineers and scientists. Sarek had quickly become an object of fascination for many of the crew once they discovered he had been an astrophysicist educated at the Vulcan Science Academy prior to his current posting as Vulcan ambassador to Earth.

In truth, the fascination was mutual. Sarek admired their mission and had enjoyed the tour of the ship Captain Niang had granted him, though he kept his overt keenness to an appropriate minimum. Following his graduation from the Vulcan Science Academy, he had been accepted to the Vulcan Expeditionary Group, but had declined the offer and take up the family mantle of diplomacy in the wake of his forefather's death. Still, he maintained a great enthusiasm for science, though perhaps not as great as Lieutenant Schneider, his current chatty companion who wore his love for the field of warp theory on his face at nearly all times.

"What are your thoughts, Ambassador Sarek, on standardizing the warp factors?"

Sarek blinked several times and uttered a barely audible sigh. "All standardization is likely to result in improved understanding, recordkeeping, and efficiency."

"Right, but what option are you in favor of?"

"My opinion on the subject is largely irrelevant, as I am not a voting member of the Federation Council of Applied Sciences, yet I believe the adoption of a cubic geometric progression is most logical, as it coincides with the majority of Federation systems."

"But do you think they'll ever get around to actually standardizing it though?"

He experienced a small flicker of annoyance that caught him off-guard. He quickly suppressed the distasteful emotion and replied, "It is illogical to speculate. It has been the subject of continued debate since prior to the founding of the Federation."

"The captain says if the Peregrine flies like she's supposed to, FCAS will have to do something about how we categorize warp factors from here on out. I mean, it would be kind of confusing for Starfleet to say we can travel at a max of warp 9 when the Tellarites and Ithenites call the exact same speed warp 27."

Sarek failed to see how the successful deployment of this new warp drive would accelerate the Federation Council of Applied Sciences'—or F-CAS, as Lieutenant Schneider had so lazily abbreviated—decision to standardize the warp factors when no previous improvement to warp travel had caused them to do so, but he also failed to see the point in debating it. Were the Peregrine X7 warp drive to function as intended, it would allow vessels to travel 729 times faster the speed of light, which was 2.13 times faster than the fastest Federation ships. Using the logarithmic scale that the Vulcans and most other Federation members preferred, that equated to a speed of warp factor 9.

Sarek was not an engineer but he was well acquainted with the mechanics of spaceflight and held an advanced degree in applied astrophysics. He understood the designers of the Peregrine X7 had made drastic alterations to the field impellers and warp coils of modern warp drive designs, which in theory would allow for the more rapid and accurate folding of space and thus, faster travel. Computer simulations showed a small but still significant possibility for damage to the fabric of space time, which was why the Federation Science Council had elected to test the Peregrine X7 at the edges of Federation space and at a safe distance away from any inhabited planets.

"So what do you think about-"

"Lieutenant Schneider, I believe Commander Xia would appreciate your presence down in engineering." The pleasant, feminine voice interrupting Lieutenant Schneider was most welcome, and while Sarek could not speak for what Commander Xia would prefer, he would also be glad of Schneider's presence in engineering, rather than on the observation deck asking incessant and impertinent questions.

"Aye, captain." The young man's face glowed red as he trotted back to the turbolift and presumably, back to his post. "It was good to talk to you, ambassador."

"Please forgive Lieutenant Schneider," Captain Niang urged. She strode confidently across the observation deck, coming to a stop to Sarek's left side. She slid her hands along the portal ledge and peered into the blackness of space.

"He has committed no grave offense," Sarek replied.

"Probably not but evidently, he forgets that not all senior Federation officials wear Starfleet uniforms, and so I apologize if he was bothering you or being too familiar. He's excited. I think we all are. In a little more than twenty minutes, we might watch history get made."

"History will be made in twenty minutes regardless of the outcome of this test. History is constantly being forged. That is the very definition of history."

Captain Niang smiled, revealing a row of dazzling white teeth behind her dark, full lips. "Fair enough. Where is Sevek?"

Sarek's aide, Sevek, had elected to use his limited free time for meditation rather than observe the demonstration. "He is occupied and hopes you excuse his absence. However, I wish to thank you for inviting me to attend this demonstration."

Gratitude in this instance was illogical, but he had served as Vulcan ambassador to Earth for eighteen months and one of his first lessons regarding humanity had been that humans were conditioned to constantly expect thanks. They thanked each other for basic actions such as holding open doors for others to pass through. It was illogical to be grateful for fundamental politeness that contributed to societal efficiency, but it was also illogical to ignore trivial human customs, especially when participation was simple and cost him very little.

"No, thank you for agreeing to come today to witness it. I know our little detour to test a warp drive must be frustrating when you're trying to conduct diplomatic business."

Her statement only served to illustrate his point about excessive human gratitude. He was a diplomat, but he was also a scientist. It was only natural he would be interested in observing the initial test flight of the Peregrine X7, so why thank him for coming? Still, he knew better than to return the standard human reply of "you're welcome" in this particular instance. It would be perceived as arrogant, surely. Instead, he replied, "Frustration is illogical. Your mission has not yet negatively impacted mine."

"Yes, well, if all goes according to plan today, we can have the shuttle and the warp drive back in the bay tonight and have you on Argelius II two days early. Everyone wins."

"I was unaware this was a competition."

"Simple human turn of phrase."

"I see. And if your mission does not go according to plan?"

Captain Niang offered another smile, smaller and grimmer than her usual cheerful expression. "Then I guess we'll pack up and head to Argelius II anyway to drop you off. Starfleet made it very clear that getting you to these negotiations had priority over testing the Peregrine."

"Logical. The situation with the Argelians has escalated considerably within the past month," Sarek admitted.

"And it's all over that little planet down there?" she asked, nodding in the direction of Arg-117P. "We ran scans when we arrived in orbit. It's only two-thirds the size of Earth and mostly covered in water. Not much room for growth when the total landmass is barely the size of Canada and spread out over three distant continents. We couldn't find any valuable resources of note either, other than some traces of silver and dilithium that would hardly be worth mining."

"Arg-117P is desired primarily for its strategic location," Sarek explained. "Colonization and resource acquisition are secondary considerations."

"Bridge to Captain Niang," called a melodic voice over an intercom.

She inched to her left and engaged a switch on the wall. "Niang here."

"Lieutenant Hornsby has left the shuttle bay and is approaching position."

"Good. You've notified all ships within two light years?"

"We're out in the proverbial boonies, captain. Long range scans only detect one vessel, the Juniper Carnegie, 1.42 light years away bearing 317-mark-18."

The captain made a strange face. "The Juniper Carnegie?"

"Some civilian cruise liner bound for Argelius II, ma'am. We've notified them of our test and they are proceeding on course for the Argelius system. They'll be out of our hair."

"Excellent. And what did you get from the last simulation you ran for the Peregrine?"

"Lieutenant Hicks says most recent computer models still show a 1.6 percent chance of it generating a gravimetric wave of Class 7 or greater. She insists it's not going to get any better than that with current parameters."

She frowned. "Thank you for the update. I'm on my way. Niang, out." She turned to Sarek and added, "I need to get to the bridge. I hope you enjoy the demonstration, Ambassador Sarek."

He offered a small, deferential nod and clasped his hands behind his back. As the minutes ticked by, more officers began to trickle in to the observation deck to observe the performance of the Peregrine X7. A small shuttlepod bearing the hull designation NCC-1405B appeared on the port side of the ship, outfitted with the prototypic warp drive and manned by a single test pilot.

"I can't believe Hornsby got to do this," grumbled a slender woman to his right.

"Calm down, Angela," someone said. "Your jealousy is showing."

"He doesn't deserve to be in history books," the woman muttered. Sarek supposed she hadn't intended her words to actually be heard, but his ears were quite sensitive.

The slender woman, who he inferred was Angela, continued to grumble about Lieutenant Hornsby's exceptional unworthiness to pilot the shuttlecraft until someone quietly told her to "shut up," while glaring back and forth between Angela and Sarek.

An amber light flashed overhead, followed by a shrill siren proclaiming, "Yellow alert." The intercom crackled to life and Captain Niang announced, "Good evening, this is the captain speaking. In one minute, we will engage the Peregrine X7 warp drive on Shuttlepod 2. You've all worked very hard for the past eight months to get to this day, and I thank you for your effort and dedication. While this is an exciting and momentous event, let's not get complacent. This is still a test and things can still go wrong. Let's wish Lieutenant Hornsby luck. Captain Niang, out."

A timer appeared on a small screen on the wall, showing a countdown at thirty-eight seconds. The twin space/warp generators at the rear of the shuttlepod began to glow blue and the room buzzed with excited voices, but when the timer indicated there were three seconds remaining prior the pilot engaging the Peregrine X7 warp drive, something went terribly awry. A vivid blue light erupted from the shuttlecraft, engulfing it in dazzling brightness.

A thunderous boom coincided with the floor underneath Sarek's feet bucking violently, sending everyone on the observation deck crashing onto hands and knees in an awkward tangle of limbs and curses. Sarek's ears were ringing and though the light outside was gone now, the photoreceptors in his eyes struggled to make sense of the rapid transition into darkness, as the observation deck was now dark except for rows of overheard emergency lighting. There was a cracking sound and Sarek could just barely make out a fissure in the thick aluminum glass of the observation deck portal. The crack was expanding rapidly and Sarek knew it was only a matter of seconds before every occupant in the room would be sucked into the vacuum of space. He suddenly felt very calm.