As the Ultimate soared through the portal, T'pleth gripped her console, staring wildly around as the ship struggled to conform to physics that weren't just different to those of our universe, but had been completely rewritten at a far higher level.
Our universe has five dimensions, which allow the creatures inside it to live and survive on these five planes of existence; length, height, breadth, time, and spatial co-ordinates. Without any one of these, we would not be able to live. Near the planet of Bajor, there is a well- known wormhole. The people of Bajor are almost right to worship the creatures within as gods, for they come from a plane of existence we could not even begin to imagine. These creatures understand length, height, breadth, and, despite their position, spatial co-ordinates. However, these life forms have no sense of time, and can thus move freely between different movements of existence. We would not be able to exist in their dimension, and should not be able to exist in the sixth dimension, that to which the Hovans are indigenous, and which does not have a name, because I cannot describe it. We should be torn apart, having no wormhole to protect us, but T'pleth distinctly felt the Vulcan equivalent of anti- climax, as, as the matter of two dimensions touched across the boundaries of physics, all that occurred was colour blindness.
T'pleth turned to her grey captain, and watched as he said in relief; "We made it," then clutch at his throat in horror.
Yale sat, watching T'pleth stare about in consternation. To alleviate her fear, he said, reassuringly, and with relief, "We made it." However, he clutched his throat in horror as he watched a speech bubble, with the words "We made it," written inside, sail across the room, split into six and disappear down the ears of his bridge crew.
Gamelle gave a shriek of disgust as she realised she could see every bacteria on her console; Ensign MacLean was moving her mouth around, looking puzzled; Ensign Karn sniffed in alarm, his famous Tellarite sense of smell gone; Lieutenant Grevellt had collapsed onto the floor, throwing himself against walls and consoles. But Volkar breathed in, staring about him with a sense of wonder. To him, it was like taking off a pair of dirty, smudged sunglasses that had been forced onto his infant head as a baby. "Captain!" he said, beaming and striding towards Yale, passing through his console as he did so. He stopped, and frowned, looking at his console. That had never happened before. But, come to think of it, it was the most natural thing in the world. He couldn't understand why he had never tried it before. All that walking around things wasted so much time. He strode towards the turbolift doors.
"Mr Volkar, get back to your post." croaked Yale, but Volkar was on too much of a high to respond.
"Sir!" Gamelle turned to face her Captain- and winced. "The enemy ship followed us in! They're charging weapons! And sir- I can tell that just by looking at their ship on the scanners! I think I've got super-vision!"
"Talk slower, please." Groaned Yale. "Your bubbles are too big to get in my ears." He realised everyone was staring at him oddly. "What?" he said (or bubbled).
T'pleth leapt up and ran to Volkar, who passed through the turbolift doors. T'pleth hit the doors bounced back off them and fell onto Lieutenant Grevellt, who screamed and slid away.
In engineering, Devon groaned as the sharp tang of smoke hit his nasal passages, as well as three dozen other smells per second. And it is no treat to smell the bodily odours of two score sweaty engineers.
"Well, I suppose I can now give excellent classes in personal hygiene," He grumbled to Hannah Mitchells, who smiled back, but remained silent: her loss of voice was one of the best things about the crisis, in Devon's opinion. Suddenly, his communicator beeped. He tapped at it irritably. "Hello?" he asked.
"Mr. Devon, we've got a problem." Yale's tinny voice said.
"You're telling me."
"Not that problem. Volkar's gone on the loose. He's gone mad."
"Is that my problem?"
"It will be if he goes to engineering, Mike!"
Devon frowned. "He won't go to engineering."
On the bridge, Yale frowned. "How do you know?"
T'pleth answered him. "He is in his home dimension, sir. I believe he wishes to get free of the confines of the ship."
Gamelle called to Yale. "Sir! Volkar's heading for shuttlebay 3!"
"RIGHT!" Yale shouted, leaping up, but collapsed straightaway. T'pleth bounded over her console and examined him with her medical tricorder. "His synapses have collapsed, due to the mental strain of being in a different dimension." She reported to Devon.
In engineering, Devon gripped a console to stop himself collapsing. On the floor, Mitchells was already unconscious. Crewman McCailean staggered as he tried to readjust the atmospherical settings. Just before Devon blacked out, he saw several transporter beams form around him...
"Intruder Alert." remarked the computer complacently.
On the bridge, T'pleth turned to Gamelle. "Report!"
"Our shields have been taken offline by remote access by the other ship- the one with Regent's sister on board." Gamelle stuttered. "We have multiple beam-ins across the ship." Suddenly, three figures materialised on board the ship. With a thrill of horror, Gamelle realised that two of them were Hovans. One raised a device, and aimed it at T'pleth, who folded up and collapsed. The central figure moved to the command seat, sat down, and, almost as an afterthought, shot Gamelle. The ensign slumped across her console, before her body, along with those of the other bridge crew, disappeared.
"Well, I wasn't expecting you back in your subconscious this soon."
Yale sat up, rubbing his head and groaning. "What... who... oh... you." The hooded figure nodded.
"Do you usually get knocked out this often?"
"I'm a Starfleet captain! Of course I do!"
"I see..." said the creature."Right, well, I think I should warn you to watch out for Regent. She'll betray you."
"Yeah, got that bit," said Yale angrily. "Thanks for the heads up."
"Any time." Just then, Yale started to fade away. "Ooh, it looks like you're waking up." said the alien interestedly.
"Thank god." moaned the Captain in relief.
He sat up. "I just had the most interesting dream." He told T'pleth, who was examining him with a tricorder. "Is the whole crew here?"
'Here' appeared to be a dull, smelly cargo bay, packed with almost seven hundred exhausted Starfleet officers. Yale was relieved to see that his words weren't manifesting themselves inside surreal little bubbles any more. "There are twenty members of crew missing." reported T'pleth. "Eighteen people did not survive transfer due to losing their sense of touch. Lieutenant Grevellt was among the casualties." Yale recalled Grevellt's agony and torment on the bridge, unable to feel contact with the universe around him. He sighed, and closed his eyes. "Who are the other two? I'm assuming you're not counting Regent."
"The missing crewmembers are Volkar and Marianne Gamelle," said Devon, walking over to their corner and crouching down in it. He, like so many others, looked incredibly tired. Yale looked at him oddly.
"When did you last sleep, Mike?"
"I'm not as tired as I look, sir. It's the drug they gave us to combat the effect of the foreign dimension. You look the same, Harry."
"Indeed, the drug seems to stimulate stiff joints, and bloodshot and puffy eyes," noted T'pleth. "But this seems to be a small price to pay for having our senses returned."
"Who's 'they'?" asked Yale.
Devon lowered his voice. "Hovans, sir. Hovans, working for the Regent sisters."
Volkar sat in his ransacked runabout, gouging huge scratches into the floor. His hand slipped straight through the floor and into the cables beneath, sending a high electric pulse through his body. He yelled, not out of pain but of frustration, and swung his arm, destroying another console. Snarling, he clamped his hands over his eyes.
"Shields faaaaaiiiilliing..." reported the remains of the garbled computer. Volkar forced himself to stand, and staggered over to the viewscreen. He stared out at the red- tinged space outside. Explosions shook the ship as the dimensions fought each other on a battleground of physics. Just then, two figures stuttered into being on the transporter pad. Volkar spun around in panic.
"Computer!" he shouted. There was no response. "Computer?" The figures formed wholly. Volkar reeled back in shock as they were revealed- Hovans. One gave a bark of surprise, and rushed forward to support Volkar. He felt himself dematerialising, moaning as the heat of the exploding shuttle scorched him...
Marianne Gamelle was in a very uncomfortable position. Judging from the unusual, not to mention illegal piece of equipment she was strapped to, her predicament could be a lot worse. Two sinister figures stood by while the torturer, a burly Bolian, held a white hot strip of metal close to her exposed neck. Tawny Regent turned to her identical sibling. "You really think this one will be more compliant than the others?"
Jane smiled. "She is younger and more susceptible to... persuasion than the other senior staff."
"Good," said Tawny curtly. "Proceed with the interrogation."
"Excellent. Begin the interrogation procedure." Jane said to the Bolian, who, quick as a flash, put the strip of violently hot metal to Marianne's neck, then withdrew it again. The wounded ensign's screams echoed around the chamber. "Where is the individual known as Volkar?" demanded Regent.
"How should I know?" spat Marianne.
"You were monitoring his movements shortly before my colleagues rescued us. And you have displayed friendly affection towards him during the last few days." The word "friendly" was delivered as if it was a disease, and Regent couldn't spit it out of her mouth fast enough.
Gamelle stared at her incredulously. "Rescued? You abducted us, knocked us out and then drugged us up to our bloodshot eyeballs!"
"Nevertheless, you would have died had we not intervened."
"Just how much intervention has your people done over the years, Regent?" sneered Gamelle. "Enough to get you promoted to Lieutenant Commander without you displaying the slightest bit of talent, that's for sure!"
Regent reeled back for a second, but then seemed to recover. She turned to the Bolian. "I'll take over from here..."
Volkar sat up, scratching his scarlet head. He seemed to be in a kind of cabin with a rough approximation of a bed that was, despite the sparse bed clothing, the most comfortable he had ever slept in. He swung himself out of the sheets, noticing that his Starfleet uniform had been replaced with a simple blue robe. The door melted away, and a male Hovan rushed in. Volkar stood and stared at the first member of his species he had encountered in twenty years. Volkar gaped for several seconds, before finally, simply, saying: "I'm back."
The other Hovan reached over and put two fingers to Volkar's forehead, in a gesture of what Volkar surmised must be affection. "How long?" he asked.
Volkar realised what he meant. "Since I was an infant."
"Ah. So, your body adapted to the foreign dimension naturally?"
"I assume so."
"As you have seen, materials from the dimension of the Federation are destroyed within hours of arriving here. Human brain patterns degrade in an even faster time."
"Then- the others-" Volkar stammered.
"Others?" questioned the Hovan.
"My friends- my friends from the Ultimate."
The Hovan frowned. "You mean you actually have friends from the Federation?"
Volkar sat down. "I think you'd better bring me up to speed on the situation here."
"The Federation occupation began twenty six years ago, when their intelligence agencies found their way through the first portal..." began the Hovan.
Yale found himself dragged to his feet by two Hovans. They pushed him towards a doorway, which was instantly filled in to become just another part of the wall the moment they passed through it. A figure moved to meet them. "Hello again." said Yale darkly.
"Captain Yale." acknowledged Tawny Regent. "I sincerly hope you're grateful for your rescue."
"I supose I am," murmured Yale, his eyes dark, staring at Regent with a look of intense dislike.
"Glad to hear it. Your helmsman was... less grateful. We had to persuade her to thank us."
"Can we get this over with quickly?" Yale asked with tones of extreme politeness. "Your presence makes me want to vomit."
The smile vanished from Regent's face. "Take him to the bridge." She ordered. The Hovans dragged him along the corridor. "Do you like the USS Pacifier?" she asked, gesturing to the ship around them.
"Nice name."
Tawny smirked. "It is, isn't it? It took fifteen years for the best scientists of the Federation and the re-educated Hovans to build an intra dimensional ship that could survive in the fifth and sixth dimensions."
"Re-educated?" questioned Yale softly. He turned to one of his guards. "Are you re-educated? How do you feel about your re-education?"
The Hovan opened his mouth. "DON'T ANSWER HIM!" screeched Regent. She took a device from her belt and pointed it at the Hovan, who moaned in agony.
"Ah. I can't say an offer of free education would appeal to me." Yale spat.
They stepped into a turbolift, which carried them to a brightly lit bridge. Yale's head was forcibly dragged up by Regent to look at the viewscreen. The Pacifier was in some kind of giant spacedock. Over in another corner of the enormous superstructure was- the Ultimate.
Yale glared at Regent, who raised an eyebrow.
"What say you, captain? It's a simple deal- the ship for that disgusting Hovan who works for you." Yale narrowed his eyes. Then, he relaxed his muscles, causing the grip of his guards to loosen momentarily, then he twisted his arms and delivered a kick to the midriff of a Hovan. The red body folded and fell. The second Hovan reached for Yale's head and began to compress it. Yale yelled in pain and collapsed. From the floor, he looked up, panting, at Regent.
"Wrong answer." she smiled. "Destroy the ship!" she took her place in the familiar central seat of a commanding officer. Two torpedoes swum across the void and into the Ultimate, which began to shudder as explosions began to rip the ship apart...
How will the crew escape? How will Yale prevent the Ultimate from being destroyed? Will Volkar come to terms with his new-found heritage? Will Gamelle escape from a torture chamber? All these questions will probably be answered in the next chapter...
I also see that I've got a few more reviews since the last chapter went out. Thank you very much, those who found the time to comment.
