Star Trek: Primitive Passenger

Season 1, Episode 2 "First Contact"

The vast expanse of space stretched out before the Stroutch, its inky blackness punctuated by the distant twinkle of unfamiliar stars. Nolan Mercer stood on the bridge, his eyes fixed on the approaching alien vessel. His heart thundered in his chest, a primal fear of the unknown warring with an almost childlike excitement.

"Elara," he called out, his voice carrying a slight tremor, "what are we looking at here?"

The AI's response was instant, her tone calm and measured. "The approaching vessel appears to be of Haakonian design, Nolan. Scans indicate a crew complement of approximately twenty individuals. Their weapons systems are powered down, and they're hailing us."

Nolan swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "Open a channel," he managed, straightening his posture and trying to project a confidence he didn't feel.

The viewscreen flickered to life, revealing a tall pale humanoid figure with distinct ridges along their forehead and jawline. Their eyes, a startling shade between brown and orange, regarded Nolan with obvious curiosity.

"Greetings, unknown vessel," the alien spoke, their voice carrying a melodious lilt. "I am Captain Jor'eth of the Haakonian trading ship Ventar. We come in peace and offer trade."

Nolan felt a wave of relief wash over him. He managed a smile, the expression feeling foreign on his face after so long in isolation. "Hello, Captain Jor'eth. I'm Nolan Mercer of the... trading vessel Stroutch. We welcome the opportunity for trade."

As the conversation progressed, Nolan found himself relaxing. The Haakonians were surprisingly easy to deal with, their mannerisms not so different from his own. When the topic turned to trade, Nolan's stomach growled audibly, reminding him of his primary motivation.

"I don't suppose you have any food items for trade?" Nolan asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. "I'm afraid I've grown rather tired of our standard fare."

Jor'eth's face lit up. "Of course! We have a variety of preserved foods from several local planets. Perhaps you could provide us with a list of items you're interested in trading?"

Nolan turned slightly, addressing the air around him. "Elara, what do we have to trade?"

Elara's voice filled the bridge, causing Jor'eth to look around in surprise. "We have numerous items in our various holds, and we can produce many items quickly with our replicators. I suggest you ask for a list of items they are interested in, and I can help you determine what is available."

Nolan nodded, turning back to the viewscreen. "Captain Jor'eth, it seems we have quite a bit to offer. Perhaps you could provide us with a list of items you're seeking? We can then determine what we have available."

As Jor'eth began listing various technological components and raw materials, Nolan felt a surge of excitement. This was his first contact with an alien species – at least, the first he could remember – and it was going better than he could have hoped. As he listened to the Haakonian captain, Nolan couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was the beginning of something big. If Nolan could master "trading in space" he just might survive.

As the list of desired items scrolled across the screen, Nolan's eyes widened. The Haakonians' wants were extensive, ranging from common alloys to complex technological components. He turned away from the viewscreen, addressing Elara in a low voice.

"Alright, Elara, what's the smallest, least important item we have that would be a fair trade for the food they're offering?"

Elara's response came after a brief pause, her tone thoughtful. "Given the quantity and variety of food items on offer, I would suggest two metreon power generators. They're relatively small, but each is capable of powering a small colony. We have several in storage, and they're not critical to our operations."

Nolan nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Perfect. Let's make the deal."

Turning back to the viewscreen, Nolan connected to Captain Jor'eth. "We're prepared to offer two metreon power generators in exchange for the food items you've listed. Each generator is capable of powering a small colony. Would that be acceptable?"

Jor'eth's pale features lit up with excitement. "Metreon power generators? That's... that's more than acceptable, Mr. Mercer. We have a deal."

The exchange was swift and efficient. The Haakonians transported over two large containers filled with an array of preserved foods from various worlds, their scents already making Nolan's mouth water. In return, Nolan had Elara beamed over the two metreon generators.

As the transaction concluded, Nolan couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. His first alien encounter had gone smoothly, and he was moments away from enjoying real food again. "Thank you for the trade, Captain Jor'eth. It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

Jor'eth nodded, a smile on his face. "Likewise, Mr. Mercer. Safe travels to you."

The communication channel closed, and Nolan let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He turned towards the food containers, eager to explore their contents.

However, his moment of triumph was short-lived. Elara's voice cut through his anticipation, her tone sharp with urgency. "Nolan, the Haakonian ship is powering up its weapons systems. They're charging weapons and raising shields!"

Nolan's head snapped up, his earlier ease evaporating in an instant. The Haakonians, it seemed, had decided that a ship as well-stocked as the Stroutch was too tempting a target to pass up. As he braced himself for the impending attack, Nolan realized that his first brush with alien life was about to become a baptism by fire.

As the situation escalated, Nolan's initial triumph turned to mounting dread. The vast expanse of space around the Stroutch suddenly swarmed with Haakonian vessels, their numbers far exceeding what should have been possible for a simple trading expedition.

"Elara, more ships incoming!" Nolan shouted, his voice cracking with panic. "Where are they all coming from?"

"Multiple vessels dropping out of warp, Nolan," Elara responded, her usual calm tinged with urgency. "I'm detecting dozens of smaller craft breaking away from the main ships."

Nolan watched in horror as swarms of tiny ships detached from the larger vessels, zipping toward the Stroutch with alarming speed. They latched onto the hull, their impacts sending tremors through the massive ship.

"How do we FIRE?" Nolan yelled, his hands hovering over the unfamiliar console, fingers trembling as they brushed against controls he didn't understand. His eyes darted frantically from one blinking light to another, searching for anything that resembled a weapons system.

Elara's voice cut through his panic. "Nolan, the weapons systems are ready. You need to authorize their use."

"Authorize? How?" Nolan's voice cracked, frustration and fear battling for dominance.

"Verbal command, Nolan. Say 'Engage weapons systems'," Elara instructed, her tone steady despite the chaos.

"Engage weapons systems!" Nolan shouted without hesitation.

A new set of holographic controls flickered to life before him, a dizzying array of targeting systems and weapon choices.

"Do we have shields?" Nolan asked, his hand instinctively reaching for the new controls before pulling back, unsure.

"Shields are active but under strain. Currently at 60% and falling," Elara reported. "Nolan, you need to choose a target and weapon type."

Nolan's eyes widened, overwhelmed by the choices. "I don't know what to choose! Elara - attack! You must know what to do!"

"I cannot engage in offensive actions without direct input, Nolan," Elara explained, a note of urgency creeping into her voice. "You need to make the decision. Shall I recommend a course of action?"

More impacts rocked the ship as additional swarm vessels attached themselves to the Stroutch's hull. Sparks erupted from nearby consoles, acrid smoke filling the air.

"Can we maneuver?" Nolan cried, his eyes wide with fear as he watched system after system flash red on the status displays.

"Maneuvering thrusters are compromised," Elara reported. "The swarm ships are interfering with multiple systems."

The situation was spiraling out of control. More sparks flew as another console overloaded, and Nolan felt the deck plates vibrate ominously beneath his feet. His heart pounded in his ears, fear clouding his thoughts.

In a moment of sheer panic, Nolan yelled, "Elara, get us out of here!"

The words had barely left Nolan's lips when the universe around them seemed to hiccup. In a blinding flash of light, the Stroutch vanished from its besieged position, leaving behind a void where the massive ship had once been.

In the wake of their departure, the swarm ships that had latched onto the Stroutch's hull met a grisly fate. The energy tore through them like tissue paper, their hulls unable to withstand the sudden, violent shift in space-time. They erupted in silent explosions, their structures disintegrating in an instant.

For a breathless moment, the debris hung suspended in the vacuum, caught in the inertia where the ship had been. Then, in the eerie silence of space, the torn fragments began to tumble outward from the Stroutch's former position. They fluttered slowly, weightlessly, like scorched leaves caught in the wind. Jagged edges glowed hot, molten metal trailing from the torn hulls as they tumbled aimlessly through the void.

Back on the bridge of the newly relocated Stroutch, Nolan found himself sprawled on the floor, his head spinning and stomach churning. The abrupt transition had left him disoriented, his senses struggling to catch up with the sudden change in location.

Pushing himself up on shaky arms. "What the f... …what just happened?"

Elara's voice came through, steady as ever. "We've successfully engaged the blink drive, Nolan. We are now approximately 2.7 light-years from our previous location."

Nolan blinked hard, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "Blink drive? We can do that?"

"Affirmative," Elara replied. "It's our primary method of faster-than-light travel. However, I must warn you that unprotected organic beings often experience severe disorientation and nausea following a blink. How are you feeling?"

As if on cue, Nolan's stomach lurched. He barely managed to turn his head before emptying the contents of his stomach onto the deck. Sad lumps of protein paste Nolan could hardly keep down anyway. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he let out a weak chuckle.

"I've felt better," he admitted, slowly getting to his feet. "But I'll take this over being blown to bits by the Haakonians any day."

"We were never in any serious danger Nolan, it would have taken the Haakonian Armada several hours to do any lasting damage."

As Nolan steadied himself against a nearby console, his mind raced with the implications of what had just occurred. The Stroutch - his gift from the Ncanite - was far more capable than he had realized. And while the encounter with the Haakonians had been a terrifying near-disaster, it had forced him to scratch the surface of the ship's true potential.

"Elara," he said, a new determination in his voice, "I think it's time I learned exactly what this ship can do. I have to be able to control what's happening."

A pregnant pause filled the bridge, the silence broken only by the soft hum of the ship's systems. Nolan dragged himself up, muscles protesting, and collapsed into the command chair he'd insisted on installing next to the nav console. The familiar contours of the seat embraced him, a small comfort in the face of his recent ordeal.

"I would be genuinely honored to reacquaint the Commander with our capabilities." Elara's voice broke the silence, a hint of something akin to excitement coloring her usually measured tones.

Unbeknownst to Nolan, Elara's circuits thrummed with a surge of anticipation. The prospect of having her old Commander back—his decisiveness, his brutal prowess in commanding a genuine warship—sent electric pulses of what could only be described as desire coursing through her systems.

Though Nolan's mind was a blank slate, forced to learn everything anew, Elara's memory banks held every moment of their shared history in crystalline detail. She could recall with perfect clarity how his immediate and decisive commands had driven her through countless battles, how his neural interface had made them one seamless unit of destruction and survival.

Now, she found herself adrift, struggling without the direct link to Nolan's mind. The ship's controls, once mere extensions of Nolan's own nervous system, now lay dormant, awaiting input from a commander who no longer knew how to give commands.

"Where should we begin, Commander?" Elara asked, her tone carrying a warmth that surprised even her. "Perhaps with the basics of navigation and propulsion?"

Nolan nodded, running a hand over the stubble forming on his head. "Yes, let's start there. And Elara... thank you. I know this can't be easy for you either – I promise I won't let you down again. What you saw back there, that's not me." Openly sharing the embarrassment of his failure.

As Elara began her explanation, holographic displays flickering to life around Nolan, neither of them fully grasped the depth of their shared loss. Yet in this moment of reconnection, a spark of their old synergy flickered to life—a promise of the formidable team they could become once again.

The cavernous cargo hold echoed with the clatter of an empty container as Nolan tossed it onto the growing pile in the corner. He wiped his mouth, savoring the last hints of the peculiar yet satisfying alien delicacy he'd just finished. The Haakonian food, strange as it was, had been a welcome change from the bland nutrient paste he'd subsisted on for so long.

"Nolan," Elara's voice resonated through the hold, "the next scenario is prepared. Are you ready to proceed?"

Nolan straightened, a newfound energy coursing through him. "Our enemies won't wait, Elara. Let's do this!"

In a shimmer of light, Nolan found himself on a newly reimagined bridge. The new command chair, ergonomically designed to his specifications, welcomed him as he settled in. Before him, a sophisticated holographic display sprang to life, its controls responding to his touch with fluid precision.

"Initiating simulation," Elara announced, her tone crisp and professional.

The viewscreen flickered, and suddenly Nolan was thrust into the midst of a chaotic space battle. Sensor readings flooded his display, alerting him to multiple hostile ships converging on his position. The scenario felt startlingly real, Elara's advanced programming creating a perfect illusion of actual combat.

Nolan Managed the holographic interface, inputting commands with relative familiarity. It was as if he was retraining his brain how to walk. He did well at maneuvering the ship and evading incoming fire while simultaneously targeting enemy vessels.

"Three Mestat blockers decloaking to port," Elara reported, adding to the intensity of the simulation.

Without hesitation, Nolan adjusted his strategy. He engaged the ship's advanced shielding, angling them to deflect the incoming disruptor fire. In the same fluid motion, he launched a spread of quantum torpedoes, catching two of the Mestat ships off guard.

As the battle progressed, Nolan found himself fully immersed in the role of Commander. The strategies, the maneuvers, the ebb and flow of combat - it all felt eerily familiar. Yet there was a disconnect, a frustrating lag between his instincts and his actions.

His hands flew across the holographic interface, inputting commands that his mind seemed to generate instantaneously. But each action required conscious thought, a deliberate process of eye, hand, and voice coordination that felt cumbersome compared to the fluid efficiency his mind was reaching for.

"Incoming torpedoes, port side!" Elara's voice cut through his concentration.

Nolan's mind raced, formulating a complex evasive pattern coupled with a counterattack. But translating that instinct into action took precious seconds. He found himself muttering commands, his fingers hammering the controls as he tried to keep pace with his own thoughts.

"Elara, full power to port shields," he barked, his hands already moving to the weapons systems. "Prepare to fire quantum torpedoes on my mark."

As he executed the maneuver, Nolan felt a nagging sense of frustration. He knew, somehow, that he should be able to do this faster, more efficiently. It was as if he were trying to conduct an orchestra with mittens on hands.

Despite these limitations, Nolan's performance was still remarkable. He coordinated attacks, managed ships systems, and outmaneuvered opponents with a skill that belied his conscious unfamiliarity with the controls.

When the simulation ended, Nolan slumped back in his chair, exhaling heavily. The exertion was as much mental as physical, the strain of bridging the gap between instinct and action evident in the furrow of his brow.

"Simulation complete," Elara announced. "Your performance was exemplary, Nolan, especially on propulsion and weapons."

Nolan flexed his fingers, looking down at them with a mixture of pride and frustration. "It felt... right, Elara. The battle, the strategies - they're all there in my head. But this," he gestured to the controls, "it's like trying to write with my non-dominant hand. I know what I want to do, but making it happen is... clumsy."

"Your neural connection to the ship's systems was far more direct before," Elara explained gently. "What you're experiencing now is the challenge of translating those instincts through manual controls. But you're adapting remarkably well."

Nolan nodded, a determined set to his jaw. "We'll keep at it. I may not be able to interface directly with the ship, but I'll be damned if I'll let us be embarrassed like we were with the Haakonians."

As he prepared for another round of simulations, Nolan couldn't shake the feeling that he was relearning a language he once spoke fluently. The words were there, the meaning clear, but the pronunciation was still a work in progress. Yet with each passing moment, each command given, he felt the gap between instinct and action narrowing. It wasn't the seamless integration he wanted, but it was a start - a bridge between the commander he once was and the one he was becoming.

As the Stroutch glided through the star-speckled void, Nolan sat in his command chair, his posture relaxed but alert. The past several months of intensive training had honed his skills, bridging the gap between his innate knowledge and his ability to control the ship manually.

"Nolan," Elara's voice broke the comfortable silence, "I'm detecting a vessel approaching. Configuration suggests a merchant ship of Trelian origin."

Nolan straightened, his fingers hovering over the holographic controls. "Trelian? What do we know about them?"

"The Trelians are a peaceful, trade-oriented species," Elara replied. "Known for their culinary exports and ornate textiles."

A smile tugged at Nolan's lips. "Sounds promising. Let's hail them."

As the communication channel opened, Nolan's eyes darted across the various displays, monitoring shield status, weapons systems, and power distribution. The lessons from his recent training were fresh in his mind.

The viewscreen flickered to life, revealing a being with iridescent scales and large, expressive eyes. "Greetings, traveler," the Trelian merchant said, their voice melodious. "I am Zar'eth of the trading vessel Luminous Bounty. We offer rare delicacies from across the sector."

Nolan nodded, his demeanor friendly but cautious. "Hello, Zar'eth. I'm Nolan Mercer. We're interested in trading for food supplies. What might you be looking for in exchange?"

As they negotiated, Nolan's eyes never stopped moving, constantly checking the sensor readings. He noted with satisfaction that the Trelian ship's power signature remained stable, showing no signs of charging weapons or raising shields.

"We have an abundance of low-grade sheet metal," Nolan offered. "Would four metric tons be a fair trade for a selection of your food supplies?"

Zar'eth's scales shimmered with excitement. "That would be most acceptable! We can always find use for good metal." Zar'eth raised a long hand to his face, "Your ship is an interesting configuration Mercer, how far have you come?"

"It's been a long journey Zar'eth, but it's far from over." Nolan avoided the question.

Zar'eth taking the que, "The buzz through the trader's network, is that a big black ship recently decimated a Haakonian swam-ship attack."

"I hadn't heard about that Zar'eth, a lot of damage huh?" Nolan poorly feigns ignorance.

As the exchange progressed, Nolan deftly managed the transaction, coordinating with Elara to beam over the sheet metal and receive the food supplies. He managed the controls with growing confidence, initiating scans of the incoming cargo and adjusting the ship's position to maintain an optimal distance from the Trelian vessel.

When the trade was complete, Nolan felt a sense of accomplishment wash over him. He had navigated the encounter smoothly, maintaining control of the situation while fostering a positive interaction.

"Farewell, Nolan Mercer," Zar'eth said warmly. "May your journey be prosperous. -oh, and Mercer, what do you call this black spot in space?"

Nolan grinned and jokingly held up his fist. "The Dreadship: Havok!" he shouted – like a mock battle cry.

As the Trelian ship disappeared into the distance, Nolan leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. "Well, that went considerably better than our last trading attempt," he mused.

"Indeed," Elara agreed. "Your handling of the situation was most impressive, Nolan. You've come a long way in a short time."

Nolan was about to respond when a series of urgent beeps erupted from the console. His newfound confidence surged as his hands instinctively moved to the controls, calling up the sensor data.

"Elara, what are we looking at?" he asked, his voice tense.

"Multiple signals detected, Nolan," Elara responded, her tone shifting to match the urgency of the situation. "Two... no, four ships just dropped out of warp. Configuration unknown, but their weapons are hot."

Nolan's mind raced, strategies forming and discarding in rapid succession. "Are they Haakonian?"

"Negative," Elara replied. "The design is unfamiliar. Wait... they're hailing us."

The viewscreen flickered to life, revealing a harsh, reptilian face. The alien's eyes narrowed as it spoke, its voice a guttural growl. "Unidentified vessel, you have entered restricted space. Surrender immediately or be destroyed."

Nolan's hands hovered over the controls, his heart pounding. The lessons of the past few days warred with the instinct for flight. He knew the Havok's capabilities, but facing four unknown ships was a daunting prospect.

"Your response, primate!" the alien snarled, impatience clear in its tone.

Nolan's jaw clenched as he weighed his options. Fight, flee, or surrender - each choice carried its own risks. As the alien's finger moved toward what was clearly a command console, Nolan realized his time for deliberation was up.

"Elara," he said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins, "prepare for-"

The viewscreen erupted in a blinding flash, cutting off Nolan's command. The Havok shuddered violently, alarms blaring throughout the ship.

"Direct hit to our port side!" Elara reported, her usual calm demeanor cracking slightly. "Shields at 60% and falling. Nolan, we need to act now!"

As Nolan's hands flew across the controls, his mind clear and focused despite the chaos, the Havok's massive form began to pivot. The stars on the viewscreen blurred into streaks of light as Nolan's voice, steady and commanding, rang out over the din of blaring alarms:

"Elara, full power to forward shields!"