A/N: This is being cross-posted from Archive of Our Own, where I started this series, for those who prefer . Feel free to comment here or there, though I will likely check Ao3 a bit more often. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 1- Reunited
Light, then darkness.
Fire, then water.
I sank fast. Out of over two thousand men aboard, only three hundred and twenty six survived.
I counted.
"Admiral, Captain Marne reporting as ordered!" He rendered a perfect salute, his back ram-rod straight. Marne had been going over his last few months ever since he received the order to report to Admiral Mitscher, trying to think of what he might have done wrong.
He had just about reached the conclusion "nothing that an admiral would be interested in" when Mitscher looked up. "At ease, Captain." He nodded toward a chair across from the desk. "Have a seat."
Marne sat down, carefully watching the admiral's face. The man looked grim, he decided, but then he pretty much always did. He had the face for it, his wrinkled skin always turned down in a frown. The man was nearing sixty and seemed to age more quickly every day since Hornet was sunk underneath him off Oahu. "What can I do for you, sir?"
The older man studied him for a moment, then slid a folder on top of his desk toward Marne. "Read this."
Marne cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at Mischer, but picked up the folder and opened it. There was a faded photograph on the first page. The photograph was in black and white, but Marne recognized the object depicted immediately. He knew that it would actually have a bluish glow, one that seemed to suck you in the more you looked at it.
He looked up. "Mental Cubes?" He wasn't sure where the name came from- he assumed the Chinese since they discovered the first one after a battle with the Sirens.
Mitscher nodded. "Keep reading."
Marne flipped to the next page, and the next. It detailed a series of experiments that had been performed on the strange objects, all of which failed. Marne was intelligent and well-educated, but even he couldn't understand some of them. He skimmed the documents, flipping through at least ten pages of closely typed text before reaching the final one.
Exposure to 100 roentgens of ionizing radiation- No effect
Exposure to 150 roentgens of ionizing radiation- No effect
Exposure to 200-
Marne decided he could safely skip ahead. He read the last summary.
Inadvertent exposure to subcritical mass of plutonium due to criticality accident.
Effects classified under Eagle Union.
Marne looked up. "Eagle Union?"
"Consider yourself read-in on that code-name, Captain." The admiral stood up and picked up his hat. "Come with me."
The old man could move when he wanted to. Marne was a relatively tall man with the long stride that went with it, but even he had to scramble to keep up with Mitscher. "Sir-"
Mitscher held up his hand. "I think it will be easier for you to see this than for me to explain it to you, at least at first. Come on."
They went out a side exit and Marne found a jeep with a Marine corporal in the driver's seat waiting for them. The corporal was already putting it in drive as he sat down. "What is-" he stopped. He didn't know if the corporal was cleared for what he wanted to discuss, though it seemed unlikely.
Either he wasn't or the admiral didn't feel like talking. They drove across the base to the compound Marne had wondered about ever since he had been ordered to the Naval Weapons Station near Newport News. It was broad and flat, almost like a gigantic bunker, one side adjacent to the York River. As he got closer, Marne noted that the side of the building itself overhung the river along a considerable distance.
He began to feel the first pricklings of excitement. He had assumed he had been assigned to the NWS for some boring administrative post. There were few ships left for anyone to captain, even for a captain of his seniority. And initially that was what had happened. He had found himself counting long stacks of various sizes of battleship shells, bombs, and other munitions. That was the exciting part of the job. If he never had to count another pallet of toilet paper it would be too soon.
The jeep continued through three checkpoints, the Marine guards inspecting their identification carefully at each one. Finally, they pulled up to a bulkhead-like door and Mitscher got out, gesturing for Marne to do the same. The admiral looked at the corporal. "Head to the galley and get some chow, son. We're going to be a bit, but don't be too long."
The corporal saluted and took off, the jeep bouncing over a rough patch on the asphalt surrounding the structure.
Mitscher went to the side of the massive door and pressed the button of an intercom on the wall next to it. There was a buzz, then- "Hourglass."
"Fall."
"Acknowledged. Welcome, admiral."
The door slid open.
Mitscher smiled slightly and gestured for Marne to proceed. Frowning slightly, the captain moved forward into the apparently featureless room inside. As the door slid close, he suddenly realized he was in an elevator.
"This seems unnecessarily complex, sir."
"Yes, it is rather byzantine, isn't it? Someone at ONI has seen too many spy movies, I think."
The usual slight jerk told Marne they were going down, but apparently not too far. There was a rather pedestrian "ding" and the doors opened. A man wearing a white lab coat and, incongruously, blue jeans with cowboy boots was waiting to meet them.
Mitscher nodded at the man. "Doctor Slotin."
"Admiral," he replied, nodding back. His gaze turned to Marne, looking at him curiously.
Marne knew he did not fit the classic image of a naval officer. Tall and skinny, almost gangly, his clean-shaven face didn't help with the impression most people got that he was closer to his teens than his forties. He kept his blond hair trimmed, though not so short that he didn't have to run a comb through it in the mornings.
He smiled at the scientist and extended a hand. "Captain Lucas Marne."
Slotin frowned, but took his hand. "Louis Slotin. Pleased to meet you." He looked at Mitscher. "This is him?"
"No, the Navy managed to find a completely different Lucas Marne to send here," snapped Mitscher irritably. Then he frowned. "Okay, yeah, that's entirely possible. But no, this is the former captain of the Enterprise."
Marne's smile froze. "What does that have to do with-"
"Later," ordered the admiral. He looked at the scientist. "Why don't you explain what it is that you do here, Doctor?"
Slotin grinned. "Something you will have to see to believe."
After the third featureless corridor they found themselves walking down, Marne had enough. "Yes, I am having trouble believing this. I didn't realize our corridor technology had come so far."
Slotin gave Mitscher a sidelong look. "I take it you haven't told him anything?"
"He knows we're working on the Mental Cubes. If he isn't a total idiot, he's gathered by now that we made a breakthrough."
"My last fitrep specifically said that I wasn't a total idiot," put in Marne.
"It's always a good sign when your commanding officer felt it was needful to say that, isn't it?" said the admiral frostily.
"The Mental Cubes," said Slotin, clearly trying to head off any bickering, "Were originally discovered by the Chinese after a skirmish with the Sirens off the coast of Formosa."
"Right, when they sank that weird cargo ship thing," said Marne, nodding. "Still trying to figure out why the Sirens need cargo ships in the first place. It doesn't seem like they need food, or fuel, or even ammunition."
"That's a good question," admitted Slotin. "And one we don't quite know the answer to. We have some theories, but...well, at any rate, once they told us what to look for we began finding our own Mental Cubes."
"Sure," said Marne. "I found one myself when I was on minesweeping duty off of New York City."
"Yes," said Slotin. "I know."
Marne shot a suspicious look at him, then at Mitscher, who looked smug. "Can we get to the point?"
"We tried everything," said Slotin. "We tried to analyze the structure, but it's hard to say it has any physical structure at all. We blasted it with radiation from the infra-red to gamma rays. We even poured acid on one to see if there was any reaction."
"This is brilliant science," said Marne. "I mean, I'm surprised you didn't try hitting it with a hammer."
Slotin and Mitscher exchanged guilty glances. The scientist cleared his throat. "Well, there is something to be said for the percussive method of scientific endeavor-"
"You hit it with a hammer," said Marne flatly.
"Repeatedly. No effect." Slotin finally stopped outside a door that seemed much like any other. "And then, while exposing it to neutron rays from a subcritical mass of plutonium, there was an accident. The cube came into contact with the plutonium and it went critical."
"That sounds bad."
"We call it 'tickling the dragon's tail' for a reason," replied Slotin. "Fortunately, no one was in the room when it happened- we were using remote equipment."
"Okay. So what happened next?"
"Someone came out of the room," said Slotin nonchalantly.
Marne blinked. "The room which nobody was in? Who?"
Slotin unlocked the door and opened it.
The room was small, unadorned. A standard military cot stood in one corner, though someone had at least tried to make it a bit more comfortable by adding a second mattress. The cot was neatly made with crisp hospital corners. A desk, a chair, and a sea-chest completed the room's furniture inventory.
Marne didn't notice any of that at first. His eyes were drawn instead to the girl writing something at the desk.
Her hair was white- not gray, but pale white. She wore it long, running past the shoulders of the white collared shirt she wore, a tie hanging loosely from it. A short skirt made her look almost girlish, but as she looked up at them, Marne guessed her age to be at least twenty, maybe a year or two more.
Their eyes met, and Marne barely heard the admiral's next words.
"Captain Marne, meet Enterprise."