Season 1 - Episode 4: Time and Again (part 3) [Interlude 1]
March 2371 (15 days in the Delta Quadrant)
Joseph Bell yawned long and loud as he walked out of his bedroom and into the living room. Lazily, he moved over to the curtain that stretched across the wall, pulling back the gaudy fabric to look out over the bustling city below. There were vehicles large and small zipping along roads left and right, while hundreds and thousands of people made their way to and from work on elevated pedestrian pathways that connected all the buildings together in neat stone spiderwebs.
Water was everywhere, Bell noted. Alongside the roads were aqueducts wide enough for three shuttlecraft to pass down side-by-side. Each waterway led to the largest buildings, which had waterfalls pouring out of them and falling into collection pools that fed back into the artificial streams. Families and pets could be seen gathered around the glistening stone basins, eating and laughing and enjoying the bright day ahead as the last vestiges of dawn finished blooming.
It had been a detail that no one had mentioned when they saw the planet after its destruction, that no one had been able to tell from the ruins. Water played an almost religious role in this society, and, as such, it was everywhere.
The thought made Bell frown. They only had another thirty hours or so before the explosion was supposed to happen, and the thought of all this beauty being wiped out made him feel despondent.
"Dammit."
Bell's head briefly shot in the direction of the Commander's bedroom before turning back to look out the window. It'd been quiet, as the man's minor outbursts always were, but in the muted apartment Bell could still make them out clearly. Joseph had noticed that when Shepard talked to himself, the displays of emotion always quiet, small enough to be dismissed, but still there. It made him feel a bit better, that the Commander wasn't some unflappable Übermensch.
Holing themselves up in one of the most expensive rooms in the city hadn't been nearly as surprising as how they had managed to get there in the first place. Bell wasn't afraid to admit that he'd been a little too surprised and overwhelmed in those first few hours of arrival to really pay much attention to his surroundings. Shepard had led the two of them to a small courtyard diner and calmly sat the ensign down at a table, as if the two of them were supposed to be there. By the time Joseph knew what was happening, several empty glasses that smelled strongly likely alcohol appeared before them.
Bell hadn't been sure if he should drink, doubly so when he'd seen that Shepard was just drinking water. At the man's nod, and his glare, Joseph had taken a sip. Whatever it was had been fruity, and a little salty, but very powerful. Without anything to do other than drink and watch Shepard do something with his tricorder, Bell had soon felt like he was floating on a cloud, his worries distant and any thoughts of looping his own family tree long gone.
Two hours later the two men had finished a fish dinner that tasted surprisingly like lamb, Shepard had paid somehow, though it was only later that Bell had realized he should've been worried about that, and the two were wandering deeper into the city center. An hour after that they were in their current home and Bell was dead to the world, trying to head off the ensuing hangover with aggressive rest therapy.
It hadn't worked.
Shepard's plan, whatever it had been, had worked, however. The Commander had been taking care of the two of them, and Bell was really appreciative of it. If he were on his own, he would've ended up homeless, arrested, or worse, but when he'd offered to help, Shepard had just given him an amused, if patronizing, smile and told him to take it easy. Bell didn't know what an Operations Commander had to learn to get their rank, but he was pretty sure scrounging up what must've been a year's pay in a few hours on an alien world with nothing more than a tricorder wasn't common knowledge. That, just as much as the time travel, had worried Bell.
Growing up on a border planet, you always heard stories about the insane things that happened to people who joined Starfleet and went out to poke at strange mysteries of the universe. Stories of men and women who got blown up and put back together with nary a scratch, who met strange new aliens who turn out to be so utterly alien that normal people couldn't even hope to understand them, or people who came across strange occurrences that were so complex that others spent years studying them only to start to understand them. Stories about the brave explorers who faced it all with a smile.
There were other tales, though, not so nice stories about the horrors that were out there. Of ships that went out, never to come back again, no trace of them left behind. Of aliens that seemed friendly, who welcomed outsiders with open arms, only to reveal horrors once it was too late to escape. Of secret government facilities that existed in purposefully unchartered space where even those you thought you trusted could be the enemy. Of the men and women who walked into those situations with grim determination, and while they survived, they didn't always come out whole.
Nowhere in all that time Bell had spent listening to these stories, in bars, in mess halls, or on patrol with the Maquis did he ever expect to be finding himself in one of those tales. He'd hoped it was the first, but he had a nagging feeling, one that grew the longer he spent around the Commander, that it might be the second.
Turning from the window, trying to banish those dark thoughts, Bell moved to the back of the living space. He entered the ornate looking kitchen that hid half a dozen appliances he didn't understand how to use and began to pull ingredients out of the refrigerated unit built into the floor. That was something else the young man was growing to really like about these people - the Makull: their almost compulsive need to hide everything that wasn't in use. Even if it was only an illusion. As an example, in the kitchen, the only thing you'd see when you walk in would be a granite counter to separate the cooking space from the living area, and a range with attached sink built into the counter itself. Above it are cabinets and drawers under the counter just like in any Federation kitchen, but unless you knew what to press, you'd never know they were there. Instead of jutting outwards, they were all recessed into the walls in such a way that you didn't have to think about them until you needed them.
Bell pulled out a packaged fish egg the size of his fist from the floor fridge, along with a skillet from the wall cabinet, and started preparing breakfast. It was his turn, after all.
From a development standpoint, Bell was guessing that the Makull people were just shy of being a warp-capable species, but he didn't expect them to ever willingly choose to be. He never received a fancy Federation education, only the basics of what was available on the frontier, but with the tech level they had, these people should've had tons of satellites. They'd have them to look outwards for danger, to collect scientific data, heck, they'd have them for telecommunications, but they had nothing up there. Nothing at all. It was as if they'd never even considered it.
The Makull, as far as Bell could tell, thought in rivers and aqueducts, preferring to stay on the land or in the water over flying high in the sky. Their global communications system, the remains of which Voyager hadn't spotted, was instead carried by an artificial neural network of thick cables under the sea, and this setup snaked into each region through the aqueduct walls. Tests Shepard had done, which Bell had helped with, had shown that the speed of data transmitted was comparable to the experimental bio-neural gel-packs back on Voyager, which was an amazing discovery.
Despite what Bell would've thought with such a large, unified system, geopolitically they didn't have a unified government, or even a history of large nations and empires. Shepard had spent nearly the entire first day here studying their history. Bell, having heard some rumors about the other man, had asked if he was planning to overthrow the government. Instead of laughing it off, or exasperatedly dismissing it, the big man had just thought about it, before slowly shaking his head and telling Bell "I don't think we'll need to go that far, but good initiative."
Letting the. . . whatever the Commander actually was to his work, it wasn't until dinner that Bell had found out how these people worked, and was shocked at the results, a sentiment that, from his knowing nod, Shepard had shared. This wasn't a world of disparate nations, like Earth of old, but a planet of city-states. Each province had a primary city it was named after - they were currently in Markov - and each city was supported by farmlands, with wide, uninhabited spaces between them.
Each province traded amicably with each other for the most part, although nearby Kalto had a dispute over some of the lands on their shared border, not that either side had anyone there. While wars used to be a thing here, they were always short fights, and there was currently a vast and complex series of alliances that made any modern warfare unthinkable as a single battle could quickly pull in thirty or more cities to either side, and no one wanted that. It was a system of assured destruction through treaties, and it worked for them. These aliens seemed to prefer diplomacy over fighting anyway, and it showed in their history.
Bell wished they had more time to learn about them as he was really starting to enjoy his time here, but tomorrow would be the end of it, one way or another.
Shepard had made it clear that they couldn't prevent the destruction that was coming, the Temporal Prime Directive made it impossible. Bell hadn't even heard of such a thing but, as horrible as it was, it'd made sense when the Commander had explained it. The Federation's normal Prime Directive was dumb, in Bell's opinion, and Starfleet broke it all the time. The temporal Prime Directive, on the other hand, was made to stop paradoxes, and closed loops, and all the horrible things time travelers could find themselves in, with little-to-no hope of escape. There was a reason that stories of successful time travelers, like Kirk in 2286, were few and far between.
Their main plan was to get off planet, Shepard and Bell having cobbled together a basic 4-man pod that'd get them all up past even orbit and out of the blast range. It'd only taken them a day and a half, with Shepard's know how, though he wouldn't explain how he knew how to make such a thing, and the design wasn't like anything Bell had ever seen before. Hopefully, though, Torres could open one of the subspace fractures like she was planning after they'd grabbed Paris and Janeway, and the the four of them would be pulled through to after the blast, as Bell really didn't want to rely on the pod, but until then all they could really do was wait for their chance.
But, while they couldn't interfere in the natural course of events, Shepard had been free with his tricorder and downloaded much of the historical knowledge and cultural examples to add to Voyager's database when they were back on the ship. Bell had seen some of their classic examples of literature, and he had instantly taken a liking to their style. There was a, well, flow to it that was truly unlike anything he'd ever read before. Shepard had left the curation of their literature to Bell, while the man himself could be heard listening to their various forms of music deep into the night. These people would be gone, there was nothing they could do to stop that, but their culture and their history would live on with Voyager.
The egg in the skillet had just begun to move from dark purple in color to a pale red, which some experimentation and reviewing the local cookbooks said meant it was almost done, so Bell added some chopped vegetables to the protein and started to stir. The end result of this cooking wouldn't look or taste anything like the scrambled eggs he had on the colony, or Voyager, since it was a fish, but at least it would be tasty. Better than what Neelix cooked, at least.
It was just getting near ready when Shepard silently opened his door and stalked into the living room, enormous muscles taught with tension. Without a word the large man started to make the locals version of tea, which was weak, but tasty, and moved to prepare the plates while he let the drink brew.
Bell had to blink at his Commander's appearance, however. Normally the well composed and sure of himself man stepped out in the morning almost indistinguishable from the locals – usually wearing a salmon and orange shirt with brown pants that was apparently the local equivalent of 'dressed-down but still ready to work.' Today he was wearing yellow shorts, and nothing else. His hair was messy, his eyes distant, and the man looked like he was worried about something.
"Something wrong, Sir?" Bell asked as the Commander poured the beverage, almost mechanically, and passed one to the junior officer.
Shepard looked over at the man out of the corner of his eye, as if he wasn't sure he could trust the younger man. Bell wanted to be hurt by that, but he'd come to realize that the older man had a lot of secrets, and doled them out like a Vulcan gave compliments. The Commander shrugged slightly, sipped his tea, and muttered almost inaudibly, "Yeah, no headache."
Bell blinked at that. "Um. Sir? Wouldn't not having a headache be a good thing."
The Commander looked like he was trying to pick his words, and slowly answered, "Once a week, I always have a headache in the morning. Every week. They usually wake me up in the middle of the night. Today, no headache. Slept like a baby."
As Bell moved the egg to two plates and set them and the cutlery on the counter, he replied with a shrug if his own, "Could be a lot of things. Could be something in the air. Could be something in the water. Could be something in the food. You scanned them to make sure they were safe, but there might be something that's helpful in them. Maybe bring some samples to see if they make natural painkillers or something? We'll find out when we get back, Sir. I think I've gotten the hang of cooking these things too."
Shepard accepted the odd omelet without complaint, digging into his meal with enthusiasm. The Ensign had learned that this wasn't a remark on his cooking, the Commander did so with anything half-way edible.
Bell ate slower, thinking about and planning out his day. It was a habit he picked up from his father, which he still did every morning in memory of. Over the past week it'd been made obvious the two men had very different habits, which made Bell thankful that they had somewhat separate living accommodations, their spacious apartment containing five separate bedrooms. Shepard was orderly, and almost painfully meticulous in everything he did, but he was always doing two or three things at once, never taking time to consider things. While Bell wasn't a slob by any stretch, even he could admit that when you compared the two men it was obvious who was more carefree in their living styles, but at the same time Bell could sit back and enjoy his breakfast while Shepard shoveled it down.
Also, Shepard had this insane need to play music at all times that drove the younger crewmen to begin daydreaming about sneaking into the Commander's room and breaking his speakers, just to get him to stop. He didn't maintain any delusions that he'd get away with it, or that Shepard couldn't break him like, not a twig, but a small branch. He'd finally, politely, and hesitantly asked the larger man to turn it down, and he'd just agreed with a polite apology of his own, having gotten used to soundproofed cabins, leaving Bell feeling more than a little foolish.
Even with their differences, though, Bell had found himself getting along with the Commander. Not exactly friends, the man was a Starfleet Commander, after all, and Bell was a Maquis smuggler, but they got along fairly well, better than he'd ever expected to. Working with the man to collect the Makull's culture had helped Bell understand the line the older man was trying to walk, how he was helping the only way he could, but stopped from doing more. The problems back home were a bit similar, but here they were working to avoid a paradox that'd delete them from history, back home the Federation just didn't want to get their hands dirty, something Bell was coming to believe that Shepard would've had no problems with.
Shepard moved around the counter and started to clean his plate and fork, as well as the skillet, as he asked, "So, you going to do the usual?"
Bell took another forkful of egg and savored it as he gave a slow nod. While Shepard would go out into the city and gather more data for part of the day, before coming back to the hotel room and working on something in his room that Bell was yet to see, the Maquis would go back down to the plaza they had arrived in and keep watch for either signs of Torres's subspace fracture widening device, or an appearance of the Captain, while searching the data-terminals for cultural information they'd missed. Shepard scanned for the Captain and pilots combadges daily, only to get no response every time, so either the other two had arrived so early that their devices had already been destroyed, or they had gotten here later despite leaving sooner.
The Commander got a faraway look in his eyes for a few minutes, before turning back to the Ensign and announcing, "I'm going with you today."
"Sir? I've been doing what you told me to. You don't need to watch me do it." Bell argued. "And you said the two of us together would be more suspicious than just me."
Shepard shook his head in the negative. "No, that's not it at all. I just haven't been back to the square since we arrived and would like to help. I'm finished with that. . . thing I was working on, so I might as well help you out." There was obviously more to it, but the Ensign had learned when he could ask questions, and when it would be like trying to breathe vacuum. You could make an attempt, but you weren't going to get anything.
Bell finished the last of his egg, not agreeing with his Commander, but knowing it'd be useless to argue, and passed the plate and cutlery over the counter for Shepard to clean and put away. "Well, in that case, Sir, the more the merrier. Frankly, it is a lot of space to cover without staring at your Tricorder, which gets you funny looks, and I never know if what we're waiting for will appear in the square or inside one of the shops."
"I don't think it will happen in the square at all." Shepard observed conversationally as he dried off the plates. "But I think I know where."
"Oh?" Bell asked, studying the other man's expression. The commander would get a hunch, and that expression, and then suddenly know what to do. It'd only happened twice, three times if Bell counted just before they'd gotten dragged back here, but he was starting to recognize it. "If not where both we and the captain disappeared from, then where do you think Torres will decide to punch through subspace. We can bet on it," Bell offered with a smile, knowing he was likely going to lose.
The Commander quirked an eyebrow up at the Ensign, thinking, before slowly answering, "I think, that it will open at the power plant."
Bell's smile quickly left his face, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "The power plant. You mean that big one on the edge of the city? Where you calculated the explosion started? That has had protesters outside it every day we've been here? The one location that has an active military presence other than the army base and the capitol building? That power plant, Sir?"
"Yep." came the Commander's succinct reply.
Sighing with exasperation, already used to his superior's simple replies to things that needed a more complex answer, the junior officer asked, having already had to ask for clarification close to two dozen times in the past week, "And why, oh glorious leader, do you think that will happen?"
Shepard got a far off look in his eye once more, and slowly answered, "Because sometimes effect precedes cause."
Glad that his sarcasm hadn't gotten in him trouble, but annoyed at the explanation now needing an explanation, Ensign Joseph Bell just looked at his commander and replied, "Really, sir?"
"Absolutely," agreed the larger man with grave seriousness, though the hint of a repressed smile poked out from beneath his somber expression.
Bell shook his head, simultaneously annoyed yet not, and stood so he could return to his room in order to get ready for the day, which would be his last here, one way or another. Pausing at the doorway to his room, he called over to his commanding officer, "Unless you plan on meeting the Captain like that, sir, you might want to get dressed."
The Commander's laughter echoed behind him as Bell closed the door behind him.
==/\==
"This plaza's never not been busy," Bell complained to his commanding officer.
Shepard nodded his agreement, eyes scanning the crowd from where they both were seated outside a small cafe near the edge of the square. Not the same one Bell had gotten drunk at, this one provided a good view of the markets and an easy route to enter them.
"Your usual?" The waitress asked Bell, who nodded, holding up the middle and ring fingers to mean two. Shepard had given him a briefing on 'normative cultural practices' on things like idioms and hand gestures when the Ensign had first woken up, and hadn't let him out until he could repeat them back to the Commander.
Joseph had considered doing more than flirting with the woman, after making sure everything was compatible, but with her coming fate he couldn't bring himself to do anything. He'd even had an idea about taking her with him when they ran, of convincing Shepard to modify the pod to take five, but it wouldn't work, for a dozen reasons. Shepard gave him a questioning look, and Bell shook his head, staring back out over the open space before them.
They had learned that the plaza was named after the cities founder, but that wasn't much of a surprise when nearly half of the bridges, streets and important locations around here did the same thing. What made this plaza a little different was that the actual first stone laid for this nine-hundred-year-old city was placed in the spot occupied by the enormous tree in the center of the square. The older construction, which had required the polaric energy pipes be laid over it instead of worked into the stonework like the rest of the city, is what let it stay as intact as it had when the entire system detonated in ionized fire.
"Do you think it ever dies down?" Bell asked, making conversation. "Other than, you know."
The Commander turned and looked at the Ensign, taking a slow sip of the drink the waitress had delivered without Bell noticing, either to take a moment to think or because he thought the answer was so obvious it didn't require an answer. After a few moments Shepard finally told him, "No, not really. You ever been to one of the bigger cities on Earth? San Francisco, New York, London, Toyko? Any of the major planetary capitals?"
Blinking at the non sequitur, Bell just shook his head and answered, "I was born on a colony world. Didn't have a reason to ever visit Earth, Sir."
Shepard took another sip of tea and set the cup down. "There are a lot of major cities on Earth like this one. Twenty-four-hour days and night life to pick up the slack when most people are asleep, or in this case thirty-hour days. Potsdamer Platz in Berlin was always one of my favorite places on Earth. Lots of character. When they rebuilt the city after World War Three, they made sure that it was an integrated heart of what was to come. Holotheaters, philharmonics, commercial stores, and some of the best damn curry-wurst I've ever had. The beer gardens of Munich are more my speed though. One of the few places on Earth that you can still get real alcohol instead of synthehol," the man mused.
Bell let him talk, listening. The first time the Commander, who couldn't have been more than thirty-five, started describing things on Earth like an old man would, Joseph had thought he was bragging. 'Look at all these great things a fringe-rat like you has never experienced.' But the more he'd talked, the more Bell had realized he wasn't describing these places for Bell's sake, but for his own, the same way that Bell would describe his home-town, which he hadn't seen in years and knew he might not ever see again. The two of them might be opposites, and Shepard might've been a Starfleet stooge, but Bell always felt a bit closer to the man when he started talking like this. Not in the details, but the sentiments expressed.
"Anyway," the Commander added, eyes refocusing back on the plaza, "that place was just as busy as this one. Maybe more so since they have a decent number of aliens visiting there as well."
Bell shook his head, not seeing the appeal of the teeming crowds. "I could never do that." At Shepard's inquisitive glance, the Ensign explained, "I don't ever want to live in a place where I can't walk around without worrying about knocking people over."
"You haven't had much trouble adapting since we've been here," the larger man pointed out, not unkindly.
The Ensign leaned back in his chair and looked out over the plaza. "Haven't had much choice in the matter. We're here, so I'm dealing with it. Doesn't mean I like it. Can't believe I'm saying this, Sir, but I can't wait to get back on the Voyager."
"Fair point," his companion acknowledged, even if he didn't agree.
Bell was about to ask something, but was interrupted before he could begin by the sound of a young boy screaming. Shepard's eyes hardened as he honed in on the source of the sound instantly, with Bell following his gaze. They could see the boy pointing at two people, obscured by the crowd of people, and the same security guard who had laughed at the two of them walking quickly over to them.
Shepard stood from the table, dropping a few coins the locals used as currency on the table, easily twice their bill, and said with forced calm, "I think we should check that out."
"Why?" Bell countered, but got up anyway. "Just a kid yelling."
"If you were ten years old and saw someone appear out of thin air, would you have yelled?" Shepard asked rhetorically before walking away, disappearing into the crowd in an instant.
Bell had to admit the man might have a point, and they should check it out even if it was nothing. He followed his superior further into the busy plaza, having a much harder time trying to move through the mass of people.
As the two got closer, Bell manager to start picking out words the kid was screaming. Something about demons, but it wasn't really clear, the kid obviously trying to push himself into hysterics for attention, like Bell's cousin used to. It wasn't until Bell was nearly on top of the boy that his eyes widened in surprise.
Janeway and Paris, standing there in there Starfleet uniforms, were trying to explain something to the guard. The man with the club just pat the boys back, smiling at him and saying firmly, "Enough of that now. Run along. Have a confection bar and calm down."
The kid's screams stopped immediately as soon as he was given the treat, just like Bell's cousin, while the guard straightened up, looked at the gathering crowd, and ordered, "All right everybody, back to your business. Nothing else to see here now!"
Bell watched the young boy rush off, face angry but oddly focused. Shepard, who stepped out of the crowd like a ghost, must have seen it as well as he leaned in to tell the Ensign, "The boy might be trouble later."
"Sorry about that," the guard said to the Captain and Helmsman as he turned back to face them.
Paris took the initiative, waving it off with a simple, "No problem."
"Demons," the guard guffawed, "Who knows what gets in kids heads, huh?"
Janeway gestured at the two of themselves and added, "Perhaps it was uniforms. We're not from this area."
The guard nodded along happily, shaking his head. "Aye, that Shepard fellow said he had some friends putting his fashion on display. Truth be told, I hope the man well, but I don't think his ideas will take off any time soon."
"Shepard?" Paris asked, confused.
"There you two are!" the man in question answered, sounding annoyed, strolling forward through the dispersing crowd and leaving Bell hanging back to watch. "I pay you to showcase the new design, not scare little kids!"
Paris and Janeway snapped their heads around, surprise written on their faces, but Paris was faster on the uptick than the Captain was. "Sorry about that, boss. He just kind of ran into us."
Janeway schooled her face, looking much more serious than her Helmsman, and nodded along. "We didn't expect that to happen."
Shepard shook his head slowly, looking obviously disappointed. His voice was somber and angry as he berated them, "And now all that anyone is going to remember about my fashion line is that it scares children. You have both ruined me. Come on, let's get you out of here and into something that won't frighten anyone else. Maybe plaid would work. No one's scared of plaid."
The guard laughed at that, chuckling as he walked away now that everything was under control.
Shepard waved an arm over to Bell, and started walking away in the direction of the square's exit. The other two followed him without a word said, apparently realizing that the situation was handled. Ten minutes later the four of them were walking out of the plaza and heading in the direction of the walkways, heading back towards their nearby hotel.
Paris and the Captain both held their tongue for an admirable long time considering all the questions that had to be boiling away inside their skulls, longer than Bell had been able to, thought it hurt his pride a little to admit it. Then again, if Shepard had given him the stern look he'd turned on the two of them, he might've kept his mouth shot too.
Less than thirty minutes after arriving back in time, Shepard and Bell opened the door to their apartment and led the two temporally displaced humans to relative safety.
The door had barely closed behind them before Paris erupted with, "Fashion designer? That's what you went with? What, was travelling vacuum salesman already taken?"
Shepard stopped in the middle of the kitchen, his hand less than a centimeter from the refrigerated storage unit. Turning slowly to face the young man, a smile wide on his face, the towering man shot back with, "And what would you have chosen, Tom? I suppose, secret agent? Paris, Tom Paris of MI5? Being a spy would go over well with the locals, I'm sure."
Janeway shot an annoyed glance at Shepard, which Bell didn't really understand, but remained silent, letting the two men argue it out.
"No but it would have been something more interesting than clothing!" the helmsman cried out in hopefully mock outrage. Bell didn't know that much about Paris, other than he'd been picked up by the Feds for being Maquis, but with how close the man was to the others in Starfleet, the Ensign had his doubts if he was more like Felix, Chakotay, or possibly even Tuvok.
"Gentleman!" Janeway snapped, her humor at the situation as nonexistent as replicated latinum. After all attention had shifted to her, she added, "Commander Shepard, how the hell did you and Ensign Bell get here?"
Shepard finished opening the fridge and pulled out four glass bottles filled with something that Bell found that tasted similar to strawberry juice. Setting them on the counter and making a "go on" gesture, grabbing one for himself, he replied, "Same way you did, just later and earlier."
Having gotten used to the Commander's cryptic statements, Bell enjoyed the frustrated look of 'that explains nothing' on both officer's faces. Shepard took a pull on his drink, letting the moment stretch, before continuing, "After you both vanished into a subspace fracture, we had to figure out a way to get you back. Torres and Kim figured out how to make a polaric generator that they could, will, fire at one of the fractures somewhere and open a hole to pull you back. Security provided the escort."
Bell huffed humorlessly, some escort they turned out to be, but the Commander ignored him and pressed on. "So, about two hours after you vanished, we were all back on the surface. Torres, Tuvok and Chokotay following Kes around-"
"Kes?" Paris interrupted, obviously finding her presence just as odd as Bell had. Maybe the man was more Maquis than Starfleet after all.
Shrugging, Shepard just stated, "Yeah, the Ocampa. Something about 'feeling' you both. Apparently her species is telepathic, wasn't in her file. Anyway, while they were hunting for a place to set up, Bell and I got gobbled up by another fracture that jumped on top of us."
"Jumped? You're saying they're alive?" Paris asked incredulously.
"No," the Commander disagreed. "We thought they moved along set paths, but Ensign Bell and I found out too late that they can also skip around. We ended up arriving here six days ago."
Janeway listened patiently as the Commander went over everything that the two of them had been doing in their time. How they checked on the species, which was very different from humans once you got past the surface similarity, the local history, set up this safe place to operate from and everything else.
Occasionally the two newcomers would ask a pointed question, but for the most part stayed quiet and just soaked everything in.
Finally, after almost an hour of talking, Janeway reached out and took the remaining glass, having not touched it at all, and took a sip of the purple beverage. She blinked at the glass a few times, before muttering an unexpectedly warm, "not bad."
She looked at the two security officers, and smiled at them, as Bell tried to figure out if she was commenting on their actions or the drink. "Not bad, both of you. I would rather no one else got stuck down here with us, but you have done well for yourselves considering the circumstances. And thank you for your wonderful rescue from the local guards. Now we just need to figure out a way to get out of here. I agree with Ensign Bell that you 'escape pod' is likely to be seen by almost every major government, and is thus an unallowable breach of the Prime Directive."
Bell blinked, not having said that at all. All he'd actually said was that it wasn't a subtle way out and should be a plan B, and that they still had until shortly before noon tomorrow to try something else before they used it. He didn't see how it would violate the Fed's 'Prime Directive' if the civilization was going to not be there any longer, but Shepard had ordered him not to argue with Janeway. He hadn't understood why then, but he was starting to.
"Why?" Paris started after he had finished his own drink, "All we need to do is just wait for B'Elanna to do her thing and we're home free."
Janeway looked thoughtful, but Bell was about to agree with him. At least until Shepard shook his head and said, "Won't work."
At everyone's stare he continued on, "All the best to our Chief Engineer, but she's only worked on the problem for an hour. I've had a significantly longer time frame to puzzle out this paradox."
Janeway frowned, and then blinked in quick understanding. "You don't think the polaric generator will be enough?"
Shepard reached back into the fridge, this time pulling out the local's equivalent of a stout beer, and passed a few bottles out as he spoke, "When they kick on the generator, it will work, don't get me wrong. The beam will focus on the subspace fracture and make a window into our time. The core idea is sound."
Before anyone could ask what the problem was, he went on, "But, the window will still be closed. We would see each other just fine, and hear each other, but nothing physical would be able to actually travel through it."
Paris frowned, "So you're staying we're stuck here? Then I vote pod!"
The Commander shook his head, grinning at him, "I didn't say that. The pod only took a few days. I haven't exactly been idle here."
Moving from the kitchen and into his bedroom, Bell could see for the first time what it was that his Chief of Security had been working on for so long. He carried in a metallic contraption, a meter-long conglomeration of irregular sized-sized blocks on a tripod, along with what looks like a phaser attached on the end, and moved it into the living room for everyone to see.
"Since I don't have access to the resources of our ship," Shepard prefaced, "I've had to make do with local materials. Still, I managed to make a second polaric generator that will lock onto and match Torres's frequency."
Janeway blinked in astonishment, and then smiled wide as she stared at the tangle of wires and metal, somehow able to instantly see what it did. "She creates the window-"
"-and we smash it open." Shepard finished for her with a nod.
Paris looked between the two of them for a moment, before motioning between himself and Bell, requesting, "Would someone explain what us plebeians need to do?"
Janeway looked at her helmsman fondly and explained, "When B'Elanna used the device on her end to create an opening, we should see an unmistakable opening in subspace. When that happens, we fire this into it which will punch a hole though for all of us to walk through. She can extend half the bridge, but we need to meet her halfway" She turned back to the Commander and asked, "How long do you think the hole will remain open?"
"Not long," he replied. "Torres's generator will only run for thirty seconds. This one I made might only last for fifteen. So when we turn it on, we need to be ready to go. The rupture might remain stable a little longer on its own, but that'll be risky."
Bell nodded along, "So now we need to find where Torres will open it."
"And I'm fairly sure I know the when and where," Shepard added, looking resigned.
Janeway didn't say anything, and just stared at Shepard, eyes narrowed, and lips pursed. "Well?" Paris demanded, when she didn't say anything.
"Captain," the Commander asked, "if you were going to use a polaric generator on a subspace fracture to open a wormhole, where would you look for optimal results?"
Janeway furrowed her brow, and then sighed in defeat. "I would go to the flash point."
Shepard nodded in understanding, but Bell felt his stomach drop, and Paris looked on in confusion. The Helmsman was the one to ask, "What flash point? Where?"
The Captain looked over at the two and explained, "Subspace fractures like the ones we fell through slowly heal over. Just as an explosion ripples outward, pushing the air away, soon enough more air rushes in to fill the void. Subspace will eventually seal over and we will be stuck here."
Shepard picked up the thread and ran with it, "In the hour it had taken to figure out a solution and get back to the planet, more than sixty percent of the fractures on the surface had already healed over. They'd be racing against time to try to find the best location to use, since they might only have one shot. The place with the largest concentration of them would be the flash point."
Bell grimaced, remembering their conversation from breakfast. He was right, it was a sucker bet, though not the way he'd thought. "You're talking about the power plant."
"What power plant?" Paris asked. "Wait, you don't mean. . ."
"There is a polaric energy power plant on the edge of the city," the Commander explained. "It was the same location our scanners picked out as a possible source of the explosions when we arrived in orbit."
Janeway looked down, guilt playing across her features. "We did this. We already violated the Prime Directive in the worst possible way."
"What do you mean?" Paris asked, concerned.
"Nevermind," she waved it off, looking up, though a shadow of the guilt remained. "Shepard, when is the explosion supposed to happen?"
"In about sixteen hours."
The Captain nodded, mostly to herself it seemed, and said, "In that case, we might as well rest and relax. We have a big day tomorrow."
==/\==
In the ruined corridor of a burnt-out husk of a building, on an equally burnt-out husk of a planet, the away team stood together.
Kim held his tricorder tightly, a look of strong concentration on his face. "Polaric levels are higher in this location than any place on the planet."
"This had to be the flash-point of the explosion," Torres confirmed. "Whatever went wrong, it happened where we're standing."
Commander Chakotay nodded, and looked over towards Tuvok to ask, "Do we have subspace fractures to work with here?"
The Vulcan, stoic as always, gave a brief nod and said, "Affirmative. They remain numerous in this area. if we hope to find and retrieve the Captain, this is the point of highest probability to succeed in doing so."
With that, the First Officer turned to the others and briskly ordered, "Set up the equipment."
==/\==
The sleep the crew had sought that night hadn't been as restful as the group had hoped. Shepard and Janeway, Bell found out when he awoke that morning, had stood by the window and watched the lively city all night. Since the Commander wasn't using it, Paris had taken his bed and tossed and turned unable to relax. For his part, Bell would admit that his nerves kept him awake for a while, but he still managed to get some rest.
Breakfast had been filling, with Shepard cooking up all the food they had stored to make more than enough for everyone, not that anyone ate very much. The atmosphere was very much reserved and somber as they all knew this was the day this world would end. The only question remaining was if they were going to end with it.
As they all dressed for the day, Shepard loaning out the two newcomers the clothing in their size he had purchased, Janeway moved to the center of the room and took a firming breath. "Alright gentleman, we all know what we need to do."
Bell and Paris nodded, while the Commander wrapped the polaric device up and folded it into the same type of backpack they'd seen the locals wearing.
The Ensign took a step forward, inhaling slowly as he did so, the attention of the newer two on him. "The two of us had already figured out how to get inside the plant, in case that's where you arrived, so that isn't really an issue. Not with the constant protests taking place around it. We can use the distraction to slip through the perimeter fence with the quick use of a phaser."
Shepard nodded along, adding, "There are a lot of potential exits and entrances to the building. Security around the place is actually pretty good, but the structure wasn't built with defense in mind, so it won't be enough to stop us. The most they deal with are people spray painting messages, because everyone knows what would happen if there was an explosion."
"Okay then," the Captain nodded. "Let's go."
==/\==
"Four one by three one zero." Tuvok read aloud, calling out the sighting information for the generator in a clear voice, the tricorder providing all the data he needed. "Two percent drift, range six meters, mark."
Kim nodded along as he input the information into the device placed between himself and the Chief Engineer. "I have it. Initiating generator."
The young woman across from him nodded, her expression just as serious as the ones of those around her. "Scanning for a subspace beacon." A brief pause before she shook her head slowly, "It doesn't look like they were here."
Tuvok looked down at her, commenting, "It is highly unlikely that Captain Janeway or any of the others would come here to-"
"No," Kes interrupted the Vulcan, "the Captain and Commander did come here. This is where they died."
Chakotay winced at the callous way the young girl had said that, but soldiered on anyway. "Okay, if Kes is right, the Captain was here at the moment the explosion occurred, but her badge didn't survive. Is there any way to break through subspace a few minutes before the detonation?"
Kim lowered his face in concentration for a moment, and then looked up to reply, "If the widest point of the fracture represents the time of the explosion, couldn't we open a hole just before the widest point?"
"There's no way we could pin-point the exact time we'd be penetrating, but we could make an educated guess." Torres hedged, not wanting to let Chakotay down.
"I feel it is my duty to point out," the Tactical Officer stated, "there is absolutely no logical reason to believe Kes is correct." After a moment he then added, "However, since I have no alternative course of action to recommend at this time, I suggest we proceed."
Torres looked up at the man leading them, nodded, and looking for confirmation to proceed asked, "Commander?"
==/\==
Breaking into the plant had been even easier than any of them had expected, Bell reflected as he carried the device that would get them to safety. There was a larger protest than usual at the front gate, leading local security forces to gather there to confront it and get the people there to disperse. People were shouting loudly, throwing rocks and other things at the plant's employees and guards, and calling on the facility to be shut down. Bell wanted to go help them, shout about how dangerous this kind of power plant really was and how they were all idiots for having constructed it in the first place, but he also knew there was no point.
Time was running out, and the Voyager crew needed to get back to their own place in the timeline.
A quick flick of the wrist with the phaser, and Shepard had carved a hole in the chainlink fence large enough for everyone to slide through. The grounds surrounding the plant had a hundred-meter clearance of grass and gravel, and all kinds of security feeds had to have picked up the four of them running across the open space to the nearest door, but all things considered the facilities personnel had more things to worry about at the moment.
Shepard had his tricorder out, his phaser holstered, and was using it lead the four of them deeper and deeper into the tight network of corridors. Along each wall were thick tubes, an occasional thin window appearing along them every six meters or so showed more of that bright green polaric energy running through the building like cancerous arteries, ready to burst.
In the center of a network of tubes, in a nondescript corridor that didn't look like was any more important than any other corridor in the building, Shepard came to a stop and announced, "This is the spot."
Paris, who had been silent since they left the hotel, only asked, "What spot?"
"This is where the explosion took place." Janeway stated, and the Commander nodded in confirmation.
"Okay," the helmsman started, "so what do we do now?"
Shepard took his package from Bell and sat it down on the ground, starting to unwrap the device he had constructed. Bell moved to help him, clearing a small area and setting the tripod up. It wasn't much work, but every little bit helped.
Janeway asked, "What time is it?"
Bell briefly looked down at his tricorder and answered, "Local time is four-oh-one rotations, plus twenty."
"Let's not do anything until twenty-three." She said simply, as if commenting on the weather. Bell stopped and starred at her. The explosion was going to take place at plus twenty-two.
Shepard stilled, unnaturally so, and slowly, fluidly, looked up at the Captain, who had her phaser out. She'd said she'd cover their backs, but she wasn't facing backwards, but towards the other three crewmen. "Janeway," he almost growled, it was so low, "don't do this."
Bell and Paris looked at each other, unsure about what was happening, but Janeway, who had sounded unsure all morning, now replied in her normal, authoritative tone, "You will not use your device, Commander. That is an order."
"Wait, what?" Paris stammered. "But that's how we are going to get out of here. I'd rather not be here when it all goes kablooey, and I'm sure I'm not the only one."
Shepard slowly stood up, muscles visibly tensing under his clothing, but before he could do anything the Captain trained her phaser on the Security Chief. The man snarled out, "She has no intention of sending us back, Paris. She's so sure she'll kill us all rather than consider that she's wrong."
A bright light started to form behind the Captain in the corridor. As the three of them watched it open, Janeway glanced back before quickly facing them again and stating with complete confidence, her tone almost chiding, "Don't you see yet? We did this. It's our rescue attempt that is going to set off the explosion."
Shepard shot back, anger getting the best of him for the first time as he held his tricorder firmly in his hand and shook it at her, "I know! I've factored that in, but that isn't the point! If you do this, if you break the loop this way we would have never come here! We would never learn what we did for these people! Their planet will be just another habitable world with a non-warp capable species that you will ignore. We won't remember anything! And then what happens a week from now, a year, when something else causes this planet to explode because no one warned them? Who will remember them then?!"
"Their future isn't our responsibility." the Captain shot back, her tone mild as the circle of light behind her slowly growing, Torres' voice distantly coming through, and Bell felt himself go cold. She didn't look like a Starfleet Captain in that moment, nonaggressive to the point of stupidity but concerned for her crew, she looked like the worst of the Maquis, the ones who'd do anything to win because they knew they were right. "This is."
Shepard looked ready to charge her, but before he could move Janeway fired her phaser, the wide spectrum beam catching him as he tried to dodge the shot.
Bell had just a moment to see his friend fall limp to the floor in front of him, the Commander having blocked Bell from being hit, Paris falling down as well, before the Captain fired again. After that, he knew only darkness.
==/\==
The engineer reached over and grabbed the holographically created pistol case without looking at Shepard, turning it over in her hands, and even holding it out as if she was shooting at imaginary targets on the other end of the room. "I have to admit," she started slowly, "with the internals of an electromagnetic weapon, properly distributed, this design would be well balanced and feel more comfortable in my hands. And it certainly is more interesting looking than the type-two we usually use."
Torres put the device down, repeating the process with the rifle case. "Okay," she suddenly decided, turning to look her companion over, "I'll help you out. But on one condition."
Commander Shepard hadn't expected her to agree that easily. Hoped, yes, but he wasn't going to argue with her. "Just one?"
Smirking at him, Torres continued, "I heard what you said in the meeting yesterday about having training simulations for the Security teams. I want in."
I narrowed my eyes in thought, already figuring out how to slot her in, even as I asked, "Why?"
The engineer shrugged her shoulder nonchalantly and smiled, "Should be interesting. And, if nothing else, I should be able to get a decent workout." After a moment's pause, she added hesitantly, "Unless your training sessions are similar to Tuvok's, and focuses on procedures and rules."
"In a way, they would," He admitted offhandedly, her expression starting to wilt, "but only in that it'll be testing 'rules' of engagement and 'procedures' on how to extract captured personnel from hostile forces."
"Then I want in," she repeated, grinning.
"Deal," the man said, extending his hand, which she grasped firmly and shook. "We'll be meeting on Saturday for the first round of-arggg." He cut off suddenly with a pained groan of agony, grabbing his head with his free hand and dropping to one knee.
The pain in his head was nearly indescribable, as if every jackhammer on Earth was moved to a single spot on the back of his skull and turned on at once. The pressure behind his eyes increased rapidly, and darkness started to creep in around the edges of his vision even as he fought desperately to keep them open.
Subspace Fractures: (1 Charge)
Planetary Escape Pods: (1 Charge)
Polaric Energy: (1 Charge)
Temporal Paradox Mechanics (1 Charge)
Temporal Isolation Beacons: (1 Charge)
As the deluge of information settled into the back of his mind, the pressure on his eyes began to slowly ebb away. With that small recession, everything else began to slip back into place and his breathing started to even back out. The pain in the back of his head was still there, but it was quickly throttling back down from all his nerves being set on fire to a typical headache, and even as he became aware of it that too started to fade away back to wherever it came from.
"Whatever the issue was, he seems to have gotten over it." the familiar voice of the ships EMH greeted the Commander as he came to be more and more aware of his surroundings.
The big man opened eyes he hadn't been aware he had closed, blinking as he found himself lying on the floor. "What happened?" he asked, surprised to find his voice so horse.
Torres was kneeling next to him, waving the holographic omni-tool over him. "You just suddenly grabbed your head and dropped to the floor screaming in pain. I transferred the Doctor's program over, but by the time he got to you it was already over."
He sat up slowly, with the Doctor and Torres helping him upright, and he shook his head gingerly to get the cobwebs out. "That was a first."
The EMH nodded, and simply said, "I want you to head directly over to Sickbay so I can perform some tests. Your slow recover from the predations of the 'banjo man' might have been indicative of additional damage not suffered by the rest of the crew, possibly related to your previous postings. Your lack of a complete medical record does not help either, I hope you know."
Shepard nodded along, aware of how pointless it would be to argue he was fine after what they had just seen. "Sure thing, Doc. As soon as I'm good enough to walk in a straight line I'll make my way over to you."
"Yes, do so," the Doctor agreed, disappearing from the holodeck.
B'Ellana looked at him, concerned, "Will you be able to make it on your own? I need to report to Engineering, but-"
"I'll be fine," he tried to smile reassuringly, though it came out pained. "Had headaches all my life, this one was just worse than normal. It's already fading, you heard the Doc."
"But you're still going to sickbay, right?" she pressed.
Shepard, taking a deep breath, nodded. "Definitely. Just because I'm used to them occasionally doesn't mean I want that to happen in the field. After all, it'd be unfair if you only beat me because I couldn't fight back."
The half-Klingon gave him a half-grin. "Exactly, I'll beat you because I'm better, not because of some silly medical issue."
"Sure, keep telling yourself that Torres," Shepard teased, and she walked out smiling. After she left, and the door closed, the smile dropped off his face. 'Well,' he thought to himself, what the fuck caused all that?'
He gave it a few moments, thinking things over and trying to understand what had led to him overspending, and on polaric energy of all things. No one used it, given the dangers it posed, and the one group that Voyager stumbled across. . . Planetary Escape Pods. Temporal Paradox Mechanics. Temporal Isolation. It all made sense, but to return to this moment, without what he'd planned to get. . . He suppressed a growl, one thought on his mind.
'Damn you, Janeway.'