The Best Laid Plans

In spite of repeated protests and corrections emphasizing 'We're explorers not soldiers,' Starfleet organized in a tight hierarchical command structure and ran with military precision. Unlike civilian life there were few mechanisms for refusing an assignment and those were rarely invoked.

Another aspect I should have considered before enlisting, Aalin thought, her mood cross. She packed a tricorder and the data cassettes needed for transferring to the shuttle's onboard computer the rudimentary Cycladian languages database she'd built. The epic poem recorded in the manuscripts from the NV-0809 system had proved a basic Rosetta stone for the written language of this ancient race who colonized this quadrant tens of millennia ago.

Has it truly been less than a month since we discovered and mapped the verses into western musical notation? That was the day after … stop it … don't go there. It's over.

Resettling into friendship was hard enough on a crowded ship during a long deep space voyage where much of your life was an open book in the micro village where everyone knew one another and essentially lived in the same house. But hours alone with Chris in small shuttle? That was a dozen steps too far for her bruised heart and minced self-confidence.

If this throws you, how are you going to cope when he moves on to someone else?

Think about that tomorrow.

She studied her reflection in the mirror then smoothed her hair. Mother's right, it is my best feature … A frown. Though not at the moment. Having cropped her long hair at chin length mimicking the Indigenous mountain villagers on Noohra in order to build a rapport with them, it now skimmed halfway to her shoulders and had reached the growing out stage where no trimming or styling tamed the shaggy effect. Accepting nothing would improve her look, she fixed a headband to keep the short stray locks out of her eyes. Why are you fussing? He's not attracted to you.

A quick glance at the clock confirmed she was already ten minutes late. Having run short of time and out of delaying tactics Aalin hurried into the hallway.

ooooo

In the shuttle bay ranking officers encircled Pike invoking a momentary déjà vu for Aalin. Entourages regularly surrounded her parents; junior attorneys, legal aides, clients and the press vying for her father's attention, administrative aides and corporate vice-presidents prepping her mother for the next meeting. As always, in habit acquired during childhood, she drifted into a far corner and quietly waited.

Aalin missed Chris noting her arrival and his eyes following her through the large room where a multitude of maintenance, prep, and docking crew worked buzzing about like a hive of bees.

Do I truly want to live and work in Chris' shadow? Given his position in the fleet and his magnetism it's inevitable if we were together. No matter how hard he'd try to prevent it. I've always sought jobs half a globe away from my parents and brothers and sisters for that reason. Maybe limiting to friendship only is the best for both of us.

After dismissing his officers Chris circled a shuttle, hand running along its frame, eyes searching up and down the fuselage. Squatting he examined the undercarriage.

Pieces of announcements and surrounding conversations reached Aalin's ears. "Bridge, Flight Deck, lead mechanic has cleared the Mary Jackson for launch." "Attention on deck, clear the perimeter." "Sir, preflight setup and checks aren't complete." "No need ensign, the Cap'n prefers to handle those hisself."

Chris joined Aalin. He reached for the tricorder and utility bag hanging across her shoulder relieving her of both. "Shall we?"

Nodding she followed him on board and settled into the front right seat. Her eyes followed his fingers working the flight console. "It's like playing a piano."

Her musing prompted a happy grin from him. "Flight Controller, Mary Jackson is five by five and ready for departure."

"Copy sir. Force field engaged and holding steady. Opening outer doors. You're cleared for port forward dock. Keep to vector Bravo-Charlie-Eight until you've cleared Enterprise's inner perimeter."

Despite her dislike of small vessels, Chris' enthusiasm for the break from routine was contagious. Once spaceborne, he looped the shuttle then flew an intricate pattern in and around Enterprise, a flyby. Aalin found her attention riveted on the man freed for a few hours from command responsibilities playing across a space canvass.

Thirty minutes later he favored her with a sideways glance, "We should get to work before Number One scolds and sends us to our rooms for a time-out."

In the upbeat atmosphere Aalin didn't resist a tease, "She runs the ship, doesn't she."

His eyes twinkled. "Anyone who says otherwise hasn't yet faced the force of nature that is Una. She trots me out when authority is required."

"You don't get to fly much anymore do you."

Chris shook his head, there was a twinge of regret in his voice. "Junior officers need to get their required fight hours in. My time is packed with other work. So no." The audible regret vanished. "When I do have the excuse or opportunity, it's a treat."

"I'll get started uploading the reference data we'll need for analyzing the ruins." Time passed in comfortable silence; he piloting the shuttle, Aalin prepping the computer, sensors, and cameras for their mission. Maybe this won't be hard after all, she thought with growing confidence.

After checking the local conditions Chris entered a few alterations to their plotted course and engaged autopilot. Unobtrusively he slipped out of his seat and roamed aft; he settled into one of the rear seats. Contented, he watched Aalin work, an activity out of bounds on Enterprise, too many would notice his study and extrapolate a wide variety of reasons for it.

In quiet spaces when she felt unnoticed, her innate gracefulness asserted in physicality, and in warm energy that beckoned, welcomed, and comforted. Her reserve melted away freeing the open playful nature closer to her true self. When sorting through a thorny problem she wrinkled her nose, just like that, he thought, or ticked ideas off via fingers. She pushed a lock of hair behind an ear before speaking to the computer in her clear soprano voice that was, in turn, dulcet, strong, throaty, and delicate. Pretty even to a tin ear like mine, he thought with an inward smile.

Here, alone together, everything felt possible, and his choice foolish.

Chris returned to the front of the shuttle. "Two hours until we arrive. How goes your end of things?"

"Indexing is underway, which will take about ninety minutes."

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Actually I am."

Their hands accidently brushed when Chris delivered the box from the replicator. This time she didn't pull back immediately. A little progress, he thought, pleased. But don't rush her.

Realization dawned. "Ah," he said, "Once again I ordered without asking your preference. Sorry." He reached for the box. "What can I get you?"

"This is fine. And I like when you do that, and that you remember my favorites. Which I think you do for all your crew."

"Hmmm." He scrutinized her. "I know you - you'd eat the offering whether you found it palatable or not in order to spare bruised feelings."

"Spock said the asteroid field Enterprise is skirting may expand?"

Not as smooth as your typical deflections, yet you always change the subject when a truth hits too close for comfort, Chris thought. He answered, "It has cycles of expansion and contraction. Lucero believes the field will begin waxing a few days after the ship has circumnavigated the far edge, though predictive data is limited. We may stick around an extra week or so and study it."

"Why not go through it?" she queried.

"Too dangerous. If equipment malfunctioned, we'd likely be trapped. A specially designed and shielded ship will be needed for traversing the field. But that's for a follow-up mission. Well done passing your self-defense certification."

Aalin snorted. "It took three tries. That's probably a fleet record."

"Indeed. A complete novice, after only a few months of training, pinned one of the toughest security professionals in the fleet."

"But …"

He waved a finger in front of her. "Sit there and accept the facts."

She shoulders straightened moving upward and back.

"That's an order."

Aalin inhaled and opened her mouth.

"No," Chris interrupted the expected protest.

Orders rarely deterred Aalin. "It was only a few basic moves …"

"Uh-huh. Go on. Admit I'm right."

"What?! You've got to be kidding."

"I'm waiting," Chris prodded.

"Claiming victory on such a flimsy foundation is ballsy of you."

His dimples appeared. "Still waiting."

An audible huff. A reluctant concession. "You have a unique way of framing things."

He chuckled. "Close enough."

Her mouth curved upward. "This feels good. I've missed you. I've missed us."

"Me too," Chris murmured suppressing his need to reach for her. Go slow, he warned. Last words replayed in his head. "Wait. I mean I've missed you … us … ah … not me."

"You're cute when flustered."

Chris rolled his eyes.

"At what age did you start flying?" she asked.

"As soon as I could reach the controls? Seven or eight? I earned my first official pilot's license when I was thirteen."

"Who taught you? Your parents?"

He shook his head. "Both preferred, and if I am honest were best suited, limiting their driving to two dimensions in a ground car. My grandfather was a mechanic at a local airstrip. One of his apprentices taught me starting with the equivalent of an old Cessna which is all about sight and feel – respectively awareness of surroundings and air currents. I worked my way up from there."

"I'm proficient in a ground car … if you ask folks might say I like fast convertibles … which, I assure you, is a fiction. Well not the ragtop part."

"Of course." His tone did not approach convincing.

"The thought of learning to fly is intriguing … attractive. It would be fun."

Instinct warned Chris this was a bad idea.

"You could teach me." Face bright and smile beaming she added. "How hard can it be?"

"Cadets without prior experience start in the simulator. I'll book you a slot," he replied, pleased with his quick thinking and plausible avoidance. For insurance he added, "Una oversees their training."

"Oh." A pause. "Maybe we'll put a pin in that for later. I should master the basics first: sending a distress call, hailing frequencies, environmental suits, first aid. The freshman stuff."

Aalin reviewed the computer's indexing report and corrected mismatches. "Your Enterprise flyby earlier … it was amazing. Thank you. I never seen the beauty in a starship before that. She's graceful and regal like swan as well as solid, tough, and dependable. Every scrape, dent, and scar tell a story."

"And those stories are of the beings who sail her and are protected by her."

"I like that about you, by the way. Some commanders wax poetic about their ship, for you it's all about your crew."

The navigation console beeped. After checking the readings Chris said, "We're dropping out of warp. The moon's radiation belt will affect our approach. There may be a bit of turbulence here and there. It's nothing …"

After suddenly falling sixty feet the shuttle lurched to its right.

Chris continued without missing a beat while he took manual control. "… to worry about."

"Will it level off?"

The ship continued bouncing. "I think so, once out of the moon's influence. But as a precaution stay in your seat until we're in orbit."

Aalin nodded while securing her work materials.

Chris narrated as he guided the ship. "The drops are an illusion, feeling sharper and farther than they really are." He projected their path on the viewport. "See the green shading? That's the end of the moon's pull. We're close. Just a bit longer … now." Concurrent with his last words, the flight smoothed as if a violent windstorm becalmed. "Entering geostationary orbit. First survey site in four minutes. Can you handle the sensors and cameras solo? I don't trust autopilot in these conditions."

"I think so."

For an hour they crisscrossed the planet collecting images and data from multiple ruins. Retreating to the back of the shuttle Aalin projected their findings and paged through the pictures. "Grammar structures are similar to records at other Cycladian sites, but the variance is statistically significant. The script here does not match previous sites. Hmmm … that's odd …"

"Go on."

"The last site we surveyed believed to be Cycladian, in the NV-0809 system, … well to give you an example, I'll label their language British English which is part of Earth's West Germanic family of languages. Previous findings, at sites nearer the Federation border, have been more closely related, like Norwegian and Icelandic, or Danish and Swedish in our analogy, all descendant from the Northern Germanic offshoot. All of these languages are still spoken, in some form, on Earth. Here … the ruins on the planet below, to complete the analogy, would be Gothic of Eastern Germanic origins, spoken in parts of the Crimea. That language is extinct, has been for hundreds of years. And it had a runic alphabet. Curious …"

"Which means?" Chris prompted.

"The data doesn't support conclusions as of yet, but … but we could theorize the planet below was visited and settled by the Cycladians before the others and therefore extrapolate we are traveling their migration path in reverse. But that's a lot of ifs all based on my ephemeral house of cards analysis that this form of their language may be older." She superimposed the images on a map of land masses. "The largest ruin in the southeast hemisphere looks to have been a city. I suggest starting there. We need both a wide and deep survey of their written records."

"I'm nixing landing, the atmosphere contains an unusual mix of gases; it's heavy and unstable. If we lost engines during descent the thrusters couldn't escape the planet's gravity well. We'll park in orbit over the site; get what you can from here."

"Understood. Setting sensor granularity for meta capture. Cameras on auto, framing every three seconds." Aalin examined the new photos. "Closer would be better, we're missing a lot and the camera's already set to maximum magnification." The shuttle swayed side to side. The forcefulness of the motion steadily increased. She glanced forward; a hand clasped around the headrest of a nearby seat kept her upright.

Chris' brow creased in a deep frown, his eyes flicked between navigation computer data and the flight controls. "No."

His fingers punched rapidly at the helm. "Damn."

"Aalin," he called in a calm, quiet yet commanding tone of voice. "Disengage sensors. Take a seat where you are. Strap in. Quickly please."

"What's happening?"

Chris spared a peek at the readout of the seismic activity building on the far side of the moon. "We need to leave. Now. Secure?"

"Yes."

"Breathe," Chris instructed.

Only then did Aalin realize she held her breath. "Perhaps concentrate on the flying?"

As earthquakes expanded deep in the core then pushed up and over the surface of the moon, fissures widened emitting radiation ionizing the belt surrounding the orb. Once sucked inside this maelstrom of radioactivity and debris the shuttle spun as if carried in a funnel cloud. Chris knew their only hope of survival lay in crashing well. Digital controls failed along with the instruments. He jerked off a panel cover and grasped an old-fashioned yoke. Did we even simulate this scenario, I know we never tested it, one part of his brain queried while he used the stick to ease the nose of the shuttle up. Carefully he gaged rotating the vessel via pitch, roll, and yaw.

Sluggish. His mental calculations switched to four dimensions; he rolled left to avoid debris that would cross their path five seconds in the future. Anticipating, zigzagging, he narrowly avoided fatal mid-air collisions.

"Brace," he shouted. "We're coming in hard and fast; much, much too fast."

"I don't know what that means," Aalin called back trying to keep her voice steady.

"Lean forward, cover head with arms."

The g-forces increased; turning the yoke, angling the controller down or up even millimeters became harder than forcing a very heavy object uphill.

It was over in minutes. Aalin lost consciousness during the descent; Chris held on long enough to nudge the shuttle towards a more favorable crash site. The small vessel smashed into the surface of the moon and barrel rolled into a deep canyon.