Empty Night

Chapter 3

A/N: Updated 10/18/2023

I opened my eyes when I heard the chunk-chunk of the deadbolts on the cell door unlocking. It felt like I had just closed my eyes only moments ago, but a line of drool down my cheek and a stiff shoulder were evidence that I did, in fact, sleep. What a waste. Guard Number 1 hauled open the door while a new guard (number three, maybe? I should look into a different naming system) stepped into my cell. I sat up and blinked at him.

"Stand up and put your hands on your head," he barked. He was tall, with blond, spiky hair, muscles, and human features. He carried one of those small laser guns and had it pointed at me. I did as he said and Thing 1 moved closer to cuff me. There was a buzz of energy as the lights overhead surged when he stepped into the circle and broke the barrier.

Thing 1 gave me a deeply suspicious look and roughly grabbed at my arms. He was wearing some kind of shiny gloves that irritated the rope burns I had gotten earlier. I wanted to grumble something smarmy and sassy, like people in books and movies do, but I was barely awake and just me, so I said, "Hey, watch it." He didn't respond, but abruptly marched me out of the cell door, with Thing 3 leading the way. I limped along, having forgotten to put my shoe back on after using it to draw the circle.

They brought me to the recessed chamber I had noticed before, on the way in. Thing 3 walked over to one of the sleek white control stations and Thing 1 pushed me over the lip of the pod so I was inside. A few of the fluorescent lights that were built into the archway died. I sat on the bench and waited while Thing 3 sat in the snazzy red chair and messed with the panel. After a minute, a loud hum filled the room and a shimmer flew through the air from one side of the archway to the other. A metal ring detached from the wall and hung suspended in the shimmer. I stared in awe.

Thing 1 gestured to me and said, "Step forward," I did. "Turn around," I did. He dragged the ring through the air to where I was standing and reached his arm through, unlocked the hand-cuffs, and pulled them back through the metal ring. I turned around again.

"What have I done to deserve such a fancy room upgrade?" I asked, kicking off my other shoe and contemplating how much time I'd have before the force field in front of me gave out. I wasn't entirely sure it was supposed to be flashing so many rainbow colors. The speed with which technology failed was usually directly related to how new and complex it was. Lights were an exception, because I guess they always have been. Long before there were light bulbs to blow out in a shower of sparks, there were oil lamps to gutter out, candles to flicker, and torches to snuff.

I hadn't expected an answer because Thing 3 was busy working at the computer terminal and Thing 1 continued to look at me as if I were El Diablo. I was just starting to wonder where Thing 2 had gotten to so I could start quoting Dr. Seuss to them when Thing 1 said, "Captain wants to question you."

So I must be in the interrogation chamber. This should go well. I thought. I can't think of a single thing that could go wrong right now.

I didn't have to wait long before Kirk and Spock walked through the sliding doors. Kirk greeted the guards, calling them by their names: Rodriguez and Carson. Spock nodded at their salutes, but did not speak. Rodriguez exited from the doors I was marched through, looking relieved that he didn't have to be in the same room as me, even separated by the weird energy partition.

Kirk stopped before the energy partition, feet spread wide and hands on his hips. He radiated confidence, and I suspect this was his standard MO. Spock stood slightly behind Kirk and to his left with his hands clasped behind his back. I tried to catch his eye, but he avoided my gaze, looking at my forehead, like so many others have since I became a Wizard. I tried not to feel somewhat hurt by that because it was a ridiculous reaction.

"So, Miss Carpenter, I have been more than generous and cooperated with your demands," he emphasized "demands", like I was a crazy bitch. "It's time for you to start cooperating."

I considered for a moment how helpless I felt: alone, far away from home, without the careful defenses I had built up over the years. If they were willing to listen and believe, instead of locking me up, what would happen? I was at this stranger's mercy and if he saw me as a threat, he could kill me. If things went that route, I could attempt to fight my way free, but to where? Out into the vacuum of space? And that was only if I didn't blow everyone up, including myself, in the process.

My only choices seemed to be: risk incarceration (in a mental institution or a prison), be killed, or die in a fiery explosion.

On the other hand, I was playing my cards pretty close to my chest. I had no problem at home letting the world know who and what I was-at least the friendly, PG version. I wasn't locked up. Heck, I even made a little spending money on the side, whether people believed me or not. I had to start showing a little trust, or I would get none in return.

To these people, I was an unknown, and the only thing more dangerous than the devil you know is the devil you don't. Maybe I should consider the fact that they didn't kill me outright as a sign that they really were willing to let me prove that I wasn't a real threat. Or at least an intentional threat.

"What is it you want to know, Mr. Kirk?" I asked and sighed heavily. I didn't move from my seat on the bench, but instead slumped against the wall.

"That's Captain Kirk to you," he snapped, but his professionalism returned quickly. "First, I'd like to know who you are. Since we can't identify you by your DNA, we need something to go off of. Birthday, parents, any identifying information you can think of."

I cleared my throat and tried to work some spit into my dry mouth before speaking.

"My name is Margaret Carpenter. I was born on November 23, 2003. I live in Chicago, Illinois. I don't know my biological parents, but I was adopted in 2010, by Michael and Charity Carpenter. I was born in Guatemala, but became a United States citizen when I was adopted."

Spock had pulled a tablet computer from behind his back and was tapping away swiftly on its surface. There was a faint line between his eyebrows.

Kirk didn't ask any more questions, and I assumed he was giving Spock time to do some digging with the information I had given him.

"The data is insufficient," Spock said. "Where did you go to school, Miss Carpenter?"

"You won't find anything that way," Kirk said. "School records are sealed. Nothing but a court order or the express written permission of the individual can release them."

"Weird," I said, at the same time Spock said, "Fascinating."

"Did you have a Job?" Kirk asked me, his left hand rising to scratch at this chin. I nodded.

"I worked with my father. We designed custom kitchen cabinets, mostly, but after I graduated High School, we moved into specialty furniture: gaming tables, bookshelves, cribs, rocking chairs, you name it. On the side, I made jewelry and sculptures and sold other little nick-knacks."

"So you're actually a carpenter?" Kirk asked. I quit staring at the trippy colors swirling through the energy barrier to look at Kirk. His left hand was covering his mouth, as if hiding a smile.

"Yeeaah," I drawled. "We're in the phone book - were in the phone book," I said.

Kirk fell silent again, waiting for Spock to find something. I went back to staring at the force field. I suspected it was made out of pure energy, which is something Wizards are keenly attuned to. We can sense and feel energy in a way most people can't. We can feel the static potential in an oncoming storm; the immense, coiling power in an active volcano or earthquake region. Sometimes, for powerful spells, we can tap into those natural stores of energy. What kind of energy the force field was made of?

Spock looked up again from the tablet and shook his head.

"It was probably a long shot to think there would be records of telephone numbers," Kirk mused.

"Miss Carpenter," Spock said, interrupting Kirk's thoughtful silence. "Are you able to recall the events that lead to your arrival on this ship?"

"What are you thinking, Spock?" Kirk asked.

"Due to the as yet undetermined nature of Miss Carpenter's arrival on this ship, and the discrepancy between her physical age and her reported age, there is a 86.495% chance that there may be records of a disturbance or anomaly regarding the time period of Miss Carpenter's latest recollections."

"You think she's a missing person? From 237 years ago?" Kirk translated.

"There is a distinct possibility," Spock said. "Additionally, there is a 24% to 65% chance that the same anomaly or disturbance is responsible for Miss Carpenter's presence on this ship."

"Well, Miss Carpenter?" Kirk prompted me. I glanced between the two of them.

"I don't know how useful this line of questioning will be. I don't remember much, and I seem to be missing a significant amount of time from my memory," I began, "The last thing I remember is..." I trailed off, searching for elusive, half-broken memories. I could feel their incompleteness, like someone had slashed a hasty hole out of the fabric of my mind. It was the work of a butcher, there was no care given to surrounding or connected memories. A black hole remained in a bleeding and savaged landscape. I would have nightmares for months.

"I remember I was getting ready, dressing up for a party... a big event. I talked to Molly, my sister, earlier. I was nervous about something, but... I can't remember what. It was hot and muggy out, and traffic from downtown was horrible, as usual... I don't know if I can remember anything else."

"Do you remember the day? The month? The year?" asked Kirk.

"2026, and it must have been summer because I was wearing my favorite blue summer dress. What was I working on at home? I had a crib going for a colicky baby, I had incense burners for the PTA, I had the Warden swords in two weeks, but we were waiting because... we had to wait for the Summer Solstice to pass! It was the night of the Summer Solstice!" take that, you hack-job, two-bit, sleazy, son of a frog-humping jackal.

Spock returned to the computer tablet, and within a minute had a result, but it didn't make me feel any better.

"On June 19, 2026, a Margaret Carpenter was reported missing. A brief news article mentions that she was not present at an art gallery show she was expected to attend. When her family was unable to contact her the following day, she was officially reported missing. On July 3, 2026, the case was closed. There remains only one record: on July 3, 2033, Margaret Carpenter was declared legally dead."

I gulped, or tried to - I would trade a BJ for some water. In the end, I think I just kind of choked a little.

"The investigation was closed after only two weeks?" Kirk asked. "Why?"

"I would have to contact the appropriate archival institution in Illinois to retrieve records of the case," Spock answered.

Kirk nodded and said, "Find out." Spock turned briskly on his heel and walked over to the second computer terminal at the other end of the room, sitting down on the red chair and flying his fingers over the screen.

Kirk returned his gaze to me, but I was having trouble focusing at that point. The colors of the energy barrier were making some pretty interesting patterns, and I was sending little nudges of Will toward it to see if I could manipulate it.

"Okay, Margaret, can I call you Margaret?" Kirk asked, squatting down so he was a little lower than eye-level with me.

"You can if you want. My friends call me Peggy," I said, "or Peg."

"Ok, Peggy, I need you to understand something here. I'm in a bind because I would really like to help you out. You seem like a very intelligent young woman, and you've obviously had a rough time. I'm willing to accept that we may have to do some detective work to find out just what happened to you, but there are some things I can't overlook." I nodded, tearing my gaze away from the blue swirls that had just been introduced to the energy barrier. Kirk and Spock weren't really pulling a Good Cop/Bad Cop routine, so I guessed that Kirk was just changing his tactics to something a little less hostile, in which case I was willing to reward him.

"I've been the Captain of this ship for four years. We've been to planets no one in the Federation has visited before; I've seen things no human outside this ship could ever imagine. You need to believe me when I say that I certainly can handle the truth -– and I need it to protect the people on this ship.

"While you were asleep, we tracked the security feed outages, and it's pretty much a direct path from the cargo bay on deck I, through the Jeffries tubes, to where we found you in Main Engineering, on Deck O. We think you were headed to the Dilithium chamber, though you never would have been able to get in, or survived if you had.

"We took a look at the cargo bay on Deck I, and there was a damaged storage container that we are transporting to Terok Nor. No damage was ever reported when we transported the cargo on board, so we think you were in that storage container. Does that sound right?"

No. It didn't sound right. I can't remember a damn thing about the past 237 years, including the last few hours where I was apparently awake and acting on some kind of compulsion or delusion. Was it my own? Was it planted? Would I try to do something equally stupid next time I was unconscious or asleep? I sent another absent nudge of Will to the energy barrier and the damn thing went crazy.

Sparks flew in every direction, flying off the energy barrier in crazy and unpredictable whorls and patterns. The colors I had seen before all but vanished, replaced by a blinding white, yellow, and gold confusion of light.

I jumped and swore, Kirk was blown on his ass, and an alarm sounded from Thing 3's terminal.

"Captain, there was an energy surge in the force field –"

Chirp Chirp "Captain! What the hell is goin' on up there? Are ye holding the God Damned Kraken prisoner?"

Kirk jumped up and flipped a switch on the wall next to my pod.

"Lieutenant Scott, report," Kirk spat out.

"I'll tell ye what happened! The brig just about caused an engine failure with that little spike. The ship cannae handle warp five and contain whatever creature ye've got locked up there," Scotty blared through the speaker.

"Are we stable?" Kirk asked.

"Not likely!" came Scotty's reply, followed by a familiar blaring alarm and flashing red lights. Kirk shot me a look of pure frustration and practically punched the speaker.

"Captain to the Bridge."

"Bridge to Captain, Ensign Chekov here, Sir."

"Drop to warp two, maintain trajectory."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Scotty, how does it look now?"

"Better, Captain, but not fer long. The brig is up to thirteen percent energy draw, and rising."

"Shit. Ensign Carson, manually override the force field, drop power to fifty percent."

Carson was already frantically jabbing away at the computer terminal. After about ten seconds, he said, "I can't, Captain!"

Spock, far enough away that he would have to shout, rose from his terminal at the back of the room and ran to Carson's station to take over. Carson jumped back, relief and anxiety marring his features.

Kirk turned to me, staring at me hard through the pulsating barrier.

"Fix it," he spat.

I had sat there, watching the chaos erupt and tension skyrocket in the short span of thirty seconds. The energy barrier continued to chaotically swirl, growing brighter and more furious with each passing second.

I turned helpless eyes on Kirk.

"I don't know what I did," I said.

"Captain, in 52 seconds, we will need to drop out of warp to prevent engine overload," Spock said from his new position. His voice rose to be heard over the cacophony of alarms; he even looked a little worried. I could almost see some faint lines on his forehead.

"You did something," Kirk said. "Undo it! Do you know what engine failure means? It means we're sitting ducks on the edge of Cardassian territory. It means life support has only backup power. It means we're stranded six months away from anyone that's capable of helping us out because we don't have another Dilithium crystal," Kirk said. He didn't shout, but he spoke with an intensity that fit him so naturally, it was like a second skin. I didn't need to know what Cardassians and Dilithium crystals were to know that everything Kirk was saying sounded like a bad time.

"Thirty seconds, Captain," Spock warned.

"Give the order when you need to, Mr. Spock," the Captain returned, never breaking his gaze on me.

I was frozen. I was terrified. The alarm wasn't helping, my emotions were probably complicating everything. I couldn't get the thought out of my head you'll be exposed, they'll lock you up, they'll burn you.

It was crazy because I would never have worried too much about that before. People make up shit all the time to make sense of what they've witnessed, and about four times out of five they'll deny it even happened the next day. I never would have withheld my powers if it meant saving a life back home (not that I've ever had to). So why was I frozen when it meant saving a whole ship full of people, including myself.

"Peggy!" Kirk shouted at me.

In movies and books, people miraculously snap out of their funk in the nick of time to save the day. I guess they're lucky because I didn't so much as snap out of mine as slog through it. I can't describe the incredible feeling of fear and reluctance that nearly overpowered me, as if I was about to stick my hand in a pot of sewage. I had upset the damn thing by sending negative emotions at it in the first place, but there was no hope of me sending feel-good emotions at it in my state.

My heart raced as I stood up. My body felt heavy as I stood before the energy barrier and I realized I had no idea what to do. Shut it down? How?

I placed a shaking hand on the barrier and a bass thrum vibrated every hair on my body as waves of energy flew off it. I heard Spock give the order to drop out of warp.

Drawing power off of it might only cause it to pull more power from the engines, which were already stressed as it was. That seemed logical. Right. But what if I reversed the flow of energy? Would I cause a backlash? Would I just overload the technology? What if I disrupted the flow of energy?

I pushed on the barrier with my hand, and another sonic wave rolled off. Pushing harder, I brought my Will to the pressure I was forcing on the barrier. I focused that will to a needle-point, and tried to form my frantic breath into a rhythm. It didn't need to be slow, just steady. After about twenty seconds, I was ready.

I brought my hand back and hit the energy barrier. It was strange: like punching a wall made of those foam stress balls, but it cracked like glass under my knuckles. I punched again, and again, and again. On the fifth punch, the energy field shattered and blew me backwards.

I landed on the bench against the back wall. My tailbone made intimate contact with the edge of the bench, my head bounced off the wall, and I slid to the floor in a heap of pain and dizziness. I saw stars and blinked them away to complete darkness. The blaring alarm had cut off, the red lights had gone out, and the soft whirring of electronics were slowly getting softer as they all slowed down from an abrupt loss of power.

Had I just killed us all?

The lights outside the pod blinked back on, immediately sending a stab of pain through my eyes. Computers powered on with little beeps and whirrs. The alarm and red lights blared for about three seconds before they cut out. My pod remained dark and quiet.

"Status report, Spock," I heard Kirk say, his voice sounding tinny and far away, and muffled under a high-pitched whine.

"The engine is functioning normally, Captain. Energy draw from the brig is at point four nine percent. That's point two five percent lower than average. The interrogation chamber is without power," Spock's soft and clipped voice recited figures calmly, betraying no hint of anxiety or stress of the past few minutes.

Kirk walked into the pod and knelt at my side, where I had fallen off the bench. Turning me on my back, he shook my shoulder.

"Peggy, are you alright? How many fingers am I holding up?" He asked.

"Not any, Jerk," I slurred, pushing his hands off me. I used his arm and the bench next to me to lever myself up. While extremely wobbly, I could still sit without falling into Kirk's lap.

Distantly, I could hear Spock and Carson answering a barrage of chirps, likely the whole ship wanting to know what in the seven hells happened.

"That did not work like I thought it would," I grumbled, raising a hand to feel the lump growing on the back of my head. I wasn't bleeding, so at least I had that going for me.

"How was that supposed to work?" Kirk asked carefully, but I didn't notice his trap. Can you blame me?

"Well I was a little ham-handed with it, blame lack of time and preparation, but I assumed it was like any other immovable barrier and that a good puncture would make it collapse on itself. That's the problem with building a shield like a brick wall, it doesn't hold up to focused attacks well. Not that I'm all that great at offense, mind you, but I did pretty well at shield theory… but I should have realized that I wasn't dealing with any kind of shield I've ever encountered before. The Merlin himself couldn't have dreamed that up."

"Merlin?" Kirk echoed.

Shit, I thought. Well Hell's Bells, I had already decided to let them have it.

"Yeah. Merlin. As in the old guy in robes and a pointy hat. As in Magic," I said. Kirk looked at me with a slight quirk to his lips and a slight frown to his brow. Restrained as it was, I could decipher that look of patronizing uncertainty on a frog.

"How hard did you hit your head, Peggy?" Kirk asked, grabbing my chin, turning my face to look into my eyes. They locked before I knew what was happening, and the soul gaze was almost instantaneous.

I felt almost scandalous, soul gazing with two people in less than twenty-four hours.

Kirk was so different from Spock. Where Spock was a glacier, Kirk was a Typhoon. Kirk was certainly a leader, but he never thought of himself as a soldier, or a warrior. He still thought of himself as that blackout drunk flying around by the seat of his pants. Sure, he knew he was smart, but he never had to work at it, so he constantly felt like an imposter. In many cases, he overcompensated with bravado and risky behavior.

But he was undoubtedly smart, and dedicated—dedicated to his goals, his team, his friends. He was going to get what he wanted and he was going to do it by any means necessary (almost). It was a bright and noisy place inside Captain James Tiberius Kirk. Except for a tiny, dark place. I almost didn't notice it. He kept it in the farthest recesses of his thoughts, so far I couldn't make out anything. But I knew that small dark stain on Kirk's soul held a story of his past, something he would give anything to undo, something he wanted desperately to forget, but strove to remember.

So we at least had one thing in common.

The soul gaze ended, but Kirk continued to glare into my eyes, as if he were trying to start one again.

"Captain," Spock's voice interrupted us, and Kirk dragged his eyes from mine to give his attention to Spock.

"What is it, Mr. Spock?" he asked.

"I have received a reply to my inquiry to the Chicago Law Enforcement Archives," Spock reported.

"Did you find anything useful?" Kirk asked.

"While what I have found is… fascinating, I am uncertain if it is useful," Spock replied and quickly continued when Kirk gestured for more. "While there was very little information in the file, and no indication of why the investigation was closed so quickly, there was a record of the file being accessed two months ago."

"By whom?" Kirk demanded.

I tensed up. If I was missing for 237 years, and presumed dead, why would someone randomly access my missing persons file?

"I was unable to obtain that information, as it was classified at a clearance higher than my own," Spock sounded almost put-out. Or maybe I was imagining emotions on his blank, blank face. "However, the individual who accessed the file made an addition, and I believe it was meant for Miss Carpenter to read."

My heart stopped. Started. Stopped. Started.

"What did it say?" I asked, breathless.

Spock recited, "Maggie, It's Harry. Tell Jabba I've got his money. Contact me when you get this message."