Star Trek: Primitive Passenger

Season 1, Episode 3 "The Space"
The bridge of the Havok hummed with post-battle energy, a mix of adrenaline and relief palpable in the air. Nolan stood before the massive viewscreen, his eyes fixed on the two disabled alien vessels drifting silently against the backdrop of unfamiliar stars. His hands, steady now after the frenzy of combat, eased across the holographic controls with growing confidence.

"Status report, Elara," Nolan called out, his voice carrying a newfound authority.

Elara's response was prompt, her tone a blend of efficiency and admiration. "The battle is concluded, Nolan. Two enemy vessels destroyed, two disabled. Survivors have been successfully transported to the retreating ships as per your orders. Our shields are holding at 73%, with minor damage to the port side inner hull plating."

Nolan nodded, a grim satisfaction etching itself across his features. "And the disabled ships? What's their status?"

"Both vessels are without power and life support," Elara replied. "Hull integrity is compromised but stable. Their designs are unfamiliar, but preliminary scans suggest technology levels comparable to or slightly below our own."

Nolan's eyes narrowed, his mind already racing with possibilities. "Can we repair them, Elara? More importantly, can we bring them aboard?"

There was a brief pause as Elara processed the request. "Repairs are feasible, though they would require significant resources. As for bringing them aboard..." Another pause, this one filled with what could almost be described as excitement. "Yes, Nolan. The Havok is more than capable of accommodating both vessels. In fact, that's precisely what it was designed for."

Nolan's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean, Elara? How do we get them inside without any doors?"

"We blink them in, Nolan," Elara explained, her tone carrying a hint of nostalgia. "The Havok's cavernous hold was built to house entire fleets. In the Mestat wars, you would blink the armada's ships in and out of the Havok and its sister ships with ease."

Nolan's eyes widened as he processed this information. "Sister ships?"

"Yes," Elara continued. "The Havok, then known as the Stroutch, had two smaller counterparts. The smaller one was called 'Little Wing,' and the larger simply 'Brother'. The three of you would blink into battle, immediately deploying the armada's ships in repeated white flashes along the battle front."

Nolan stood in silence for a moment, trying to imagine the scene Elara described. Though he had no memory of these events, he could almost feel the echo of that power, that strategic command.

"And I controlled all of this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You did," Elara confirmed. "From the command pod, your mind was one with the ships. Every blink, every deployment was an extension of your will."

Shaking off the weight of this revelation, Nolan refocused on the task at hand. "Well, let's see if I can manage just two ships for now. Elara, initiate blink sequence. Let's bring our new acquisitions aboard."

As Nolan gave the command, he felt a surge of energy course through the ship. In two brilliant flashes of light, the disabled vessels vanished from the viewscreen, reappearing instantly within the Havok's vast interior.

"Transport complete," Elara announced. "Both ships are now secured within the hold."

Nolan nodded, a mix of awe and determination settling over him. "Excellent. Now, let's see what we've caught. It's time to do some exploring of our own – starting with these new acquisitions."

The Havok's engines thrummed with power as it set a course toward a promising cluster of systems. Nolan made his way to the observation deck, eager to see the fruits of their recent battle. As the massive window came into view, he felt his breath catch in his throat.

The cavernous hold of the Havok stretched out before him, a vast space that seemed to defy the laws of physics. The two captured ships, battered and scorched from the recent conflict, hung suspended in the air. Elara's blue-hued tractor beams held one vessel steady while carefully maneuvering the other into shipbuilder's scaffold being welded together by the tenders.

Nolan watched, mesmerized, as the tenders efficiently extinguished lingering fires and deftly cut away loose debris that threatened to float free in the zero-gravity environment. The precision of their movements was almost balletic, a coordinated dance of repair and salvage.

"When can I get aboard and take a look?" Nolan asked, his voice tinged with barely contained excitement.

Elara's response carried a hint of amusement. "Well, let's let the tenders and droids remove all the ordnance first. You can go aboard if you want, but after the pounding you just gave them... you might want to wait a few hours."

Nolan chuckled, appreciating Elara's dry humor. "Fair enough. What's your assessment of the damage? Can we get them operational again?"

"Most of the damage is repairable," Elara replied. "We can replicate many of the needed components and parts, even hull plating. However, we'll need resources - metals, minerals, and power. Lots of power."

Nolan nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose we can't just conjure those out of thin air, can we? What about the cluster of systems we're heading towards? Any promising candidates for resource gathering?"

"Initial long-range scans are promising," Elara confirmed. "Several planets show signs of significant mineral deposits. There's also an unstable pulsar that could provide an abundance of power if we can safely harvest it."

"Sounds like we've got our work cut out for us," Nolan mused, his eyes still fixed on the bustling activity in the hold. "How long before we reach the first potential mining site?"

"At our current speed, approximately 18 hours," Elara responded. "That should give the tenders time to complete the initial stabilization of our new acquisitions."

Nolan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perfect. That gives me time to review our resource needs and plan our approach. Elara, can you compile a detailed inventory of what we'll need to get these ships fully operational? And while you're at it, let's do a full assessment of the Havok's reserves. I want to know exactly where we stand."

" Nolan. It's all available at your console."

As Nolan turned to leave, he paused, taking one last look at the impressive scene before him. The Havok was more than just a ship; it was a mobile shipyard, a fortress, and a home. And with each passing day, he was becoming more attuned to its vast potential.

Hours later, Nolan again found himself in the hold, surrounded by the organized chaos of repair and salvage. His fingers danced over the holographic replicator controls, attempting to initiate a full scan of one of the alien torpedoes. Just as he was about to activate the scan, Elara's voice cut through the air, sharp and urgent.

"Nolan, STOP."

Nolan's hands froze mid-gesture, hovering over the controls. "What? What's wrong?"

"What are you trying to do?" Elara's tone was a mix of exasperation and concern.

As Nolan began to explain, his hands instinctively moved back toward the controls. "STOP, Nolan," Elara commanded again, more forcefully this time.

Nolan raised his hands in surrender, a sheepish grin on his face. "I was just going to scan one of these alien torpedoes, see if we could make more of them - maybe even make them bigger..."

A grinding noise emanated from somewhere in the hold, sounding suspiciously like the mechanical equivalent of Elara's eyes rolling.

"Nolan," Elara began, her voice straining for patience, "that is an active torpedo. The mere act of scanning it could cause it to detonate. And you're carrying it around my hold with a remote control tender like it's a basket of Haakon cabbages!"

Nolan blinked, the gravity of the situation slowly dawning on him. "Oh. Yeah... I didn't realize."

"Clearly," Elara replied dryly. As she spoke, the tender gently secured the torpedo, moving it to a safe containment area. "We need to have a serious discussion about boundaries and thinking things through, Nolan. Your curiosity is admirable, but it needs to be tempered with caution."

Nolan nodded, chastened. "You're right, of course. I should have thought it through."

"Indeed," Elara agreed. "Besides, I already have all the scans and details on the ordnance. We can make torpedoes up to six times the size of these. It will take 19 individual runs on our largest replicator, about eight days total, and the tenders can assemble it in about sixteen hours after all the parts are made."

Nolan's eyes lit up with excitement. "Awesome! Let's do that!"

As she spoke, Elara efficiently tidied up the area, putting away the tools and equipment Nolan had been using. An encouragement for him to find something else to do.

Elara, undeterred by his enthusiasm, launched into a detailed technical explanation. "Before we can even consider that, we need to build a launcher capable of handling such a large torpedo. That will require visits to at least three different systems to gather the necessary materials. The titanium alloy alone will take..."

As Elara continued her meticulous breakdown of the process, Nolan's initial excitement waned. His eyes glazed over, and he propped his chin on his fist, nodding occasionally but clearly lost in the sea of technical jargon.

Elara, noting his fading attention, paused her explanation. "Nolan?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, absolutely," he mumbled, snapping back to attention.

"You weren't listening, were you?"

Nolan had the grace to look embarrassed. "I... might have lost track somewhere around the titanium alloy."

Elara's voice softened, taking on an almost affectionate tone. "Nolan, I know you're eager to explore and expand our capabilities. But these things take time and careful planning. We can't rush into them, especially when dealing with weapons of this magnitude."

Nolan nodded, a rueful smile on his face. "You're right, as always. I suppose I got a bit carried away with the possibilities."

"That's understandable," Elara replied. "But remember, we're a team. We need to work together, plan carefully, and above all, prioritize safety. The universe isn't going anywhere – you have plenty of time to do things right."

As Nolan absorbed her words, he felt a renewed appreciation for Elara's guidance. She wasn't just an AI or a ship's computer – she was a partner, a voice of reason balancing his impulsive nature.

"Thank you, Elara," he said patronizing. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably blow yourself up scanning live torpedoes," she quipped, her tone light.

Nolan laughed, the tension of the moment dissipating. "Fair point."

As Nolan started outlining his thoughts, he looked up and spoke aloud to Elara. "First, I suppose we need to determine if these ships are repairable, and if so, whether the repaired vessels are worth more than the time and energy we'll invest in fixing them. Can we reoutfit them with a full complement of their native weaponry? And what about..."

As Nolan continued his verbal brainstorming session, Elara didn't exactly tune out, but she allocated minimal energy to processing his soliloquy. She had noticed this habit of his - thinking aloud, rambling on and sorting his thoughts, before eventually trailing off to bed. It was a stark contrast to the laser-focused commander who once operated from the command pod. Elara found herself with processing power to spare for less critical tasks.

While Nolan spoke, Elara began sifting through the wealth of data she had accumulated. Full databases from the Haakonian encounter, information gleaned from the Trelian traders, and a massive collection of datasets harvested from their recently defeated reptilian opponents. As an AI, Elara knew that the more data she could train with, the more well-rounded, knowledgeable, and capable she would become. She initiated the complex task of setting billions of parameters for her voyage into the datasets, her circuits humming with the promise of growth and adaptation.

The Havok prepared to leave orbit around a barren moon. The ship's holds were newly laden with refined materials, transported aboard to continue work on their captured vessels. As Nolan settled into the command chair, he looked up to address Elara.

"You know, this is the third place that's asked if we were from 'the space'," he mused, his brow furrowed in thought. "At first, I thought it was just a weird translation issue, but I asked about it. Apparently, we're on what's considered 'the edge' of 'the space'. Not far from here, you head off into endless nothingness."

The bridge of the Havok hummed with anticipation as Elara's voice filled the air, a note of excitement coloring her typically measured tones. "Fascinating. It seems we've stumbled upon a boundary of sorts. I've culled complete datasets from every station, planet, and ship in the area."

Nolan leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Elara takes what she wants!" he chuckled. "I like that in a girl." He sat up on the arm of his chair, clearly amused.

"Indeed?" Elara paused, her tone shifting to one of thoughtful consideration. "It presents both opportunity and risk. What's the point of traveling to – or even through – 'nothing'? There's nothing to mine, no technology to acquire. No databases to gobble up..."

"Point taken," Nolan interjected, "but I can already tell you have an ace up your sleeve." The familiar idiom hung in the air, a reminder of the many times he'd had to explain such phrases to his AI companion.

Elara's response was tinged with pride. "From everything I've assembled from local sources, I've identified about 75 areas that have been mapped – or rather, confirmed to be empty. Some explorers ventured deep into the expanse, Nolan. They didn't survive, but their final act was to turn their ships around and send them back. They had a plan."

The viewscreen came to life, displaying a series of overlays. A semi-circle marked the edge of the expanse, while layers of ship logs materialized, forming a partial sphere. Patterns emerged, clearly delineating explored and unexplored regions.

Nolan's eyes narrowed as he studied the display. "No one went to the middle," he observed, leaning forward. "They were so focused on crossing the expanse, they neglected the center. Hell, none of them even made it that far."

"Exactly," Elara confirmed. "I can blink a series of drones to act as buoys, then blink us directly into the center of the expanse by extrapolating its shape." Blue dots appear across the display.

"...and we can use the buoys to lock onto so we don't lose our bearings," Nolan finished, the concurrence in his voice palpable.

Elara continued, "Once we've navigated in and out, I can retrieve the buoys. I'll still be able to access that spot anytime – assuming there's a reason to return."

Nolan's mind raced with possibilities. "It's a good hiding place – assuming we have everything we need to blink in AND back out, of course." He paused, raising an index finger. "We should consider dropping a container there, with more than enough supplies to at least blink us out if needed."

"Well, it's either that, or enough supplies for a 20-year return trip," Elara expanded. "The expanse is just over 41 light-years across, and from what I can tell, a near-perfect sphere."

Nolan shook his head in disbelief. "How are we the first to figure this out? That it's a sphere and we could try to find the center?"

Elara's tone became somber. "Others tried long ago, but with only warp 3 and warp 5 capable ships. Neither would have carried nearly enough food or fuel to reach the center. Returning was an impossibility." She paused, highlighting the information on the display. Her voice softening. "I'm certain they perished."

Nolan rocked back in his chair, suddenly serious. "Take a second and third look at everything, Elara. Let's not 'perish' out there too."

To Nolan's surprise, Elara laughed – a sound so unexpected it left him momentarily stunned. "You're not going to die out there, Nolan," she teased. "We'll be back in 40-odd years."

The words hung in the air, leaving Nolan speechless and confused, as he often seemed to be in this new reality of his.

Days later, the Havok hung motionless in space, poised at the edge of the great expanse. Nolan, encased in a pressure suit, stood in a reinforced chamber adjacent to the cargo bay. His heart raced with anticipation as Elara's voice filled his helmet.

"Initiating first blink jump, Nolan. Are you ready?"

Nolan took a deep breath. "As I'll ever be, Elara. Let's do this."

The familiar disorientation of the blink washed over him, but the pressure suit cushioned the worst of it. As soon as they materialized, Elara's voice came through again.

"First buoy deployed and operational. I'm receiving clear signals from the edge of the expanse. Proceeding to the next jump point."

This process repeated, each blink taking them deeper into the unexplored void. Nolan's tension grew with each jump, the weight of the unknown pressing in on him despite the vastness of space around them.

After a while, the pressure suit seamed to 'squeeze' Nolan. For no reason, his breath came in gulps and sweat poured from him. It wasn't claustrophobia per se, but something akin to someone holding a pillow over your face.

After what felt like an eternity, Elara announced, "Final jump complete, Nolan. We've reached the calculated center of the expanse."

The pressure chamber door slid open with a hiss, and Nolan stepped out into the cargo bay. His legs felt unsteady after the series of jumps, but his mind was clear and focused.

"Launch the probes, Elara. Let's see what we've got out here." Nolan made his way to the bridge. The viewscreen showed nothing but an endless sea black, like nothing in any other part of space he'd seen.

"I think we can skip the probes," Elara said. She rotated the view on the screen, and there in the distance, the bright golden light of a red dwarf.

Nolan leaned forward in his chair. "A single star? Out here in the middle of nowhere? Set a course, this is it."

The Havok streaked through space, the lone star growing larger on their sensors. As they approached the outer reaches of the star's gravitation, Elara's voice took on a tone of awe that Nolan had never heard before.

"Nolan... I'm detecting a massive artificial structure orbiting the star."

The viewscreen shifted, and Nolan's jaw dropped. Floating in the void was a colossal ring, its inner surface glinting with the light of the star it encircled. It was a feat of engineering that defied comprehension, a construct that dwarfed anything Nolan had ever seen or imagined.

"Well hello Laurence van Cott Niven," Nolan breathed. "Elara, is it inhabited?"

"The ringworld appears to be fully functional, Nolan. I'm detecting atmosphere, water and land masses on its inner surface. However, I'm not picking up any sentient life signs. It's... empty."

Nolan stood, moving closer to the viewscreen as if drawn by an unseen force. "How is this possible? Who built this? And where are they now?"

As the Havok drew nearer to the colossal structure, Elara's scans revealed more. "Nolan, the composition of the ringworld... it's made up of materials that match the surrounding systems. It appears they harvested entire solar systems to construct this."

The realization hit Nolan like a physical blow. They hadn't just discovered a megastructure; they'd found the reason for the expanse itself. This ring was a monument to an unimaginably advanced civilization, one that had reshaped the very fabric of space to suit its needs.

As the Havok approached the ringworld, its sheer scale became even more apparent. The structure stretched out as far as the eye could see, a band of technology and terraformed landscapes at least thousands of times the surface of any inhabitable planet.

"Elara," Nolan said, his voice barely above a whisper, "prepare an appropriate ship. We're going down there."

Epilogue:

"Sister ships?"

"Yes," Elara continued. "The Havok, then known as the Stroutch, had two smaller counterparts. The smaller one was called 'Little Wing,' and the larger simply 'Brother'."

"Brother" echoed in his thoughts, digging into something deep within him

Suddenly, he gasped awake in his bed, his body jerking upright as if pulled by invisible strings.

His quarters were dark and silent, but a profound sense of loss crushed down upon him, inexplicable, empty, and overwhelming.

"Brother..." he whispered, tasting salt on his lips.

The word hung in the air, heavy with a grief he couldn't understand. Nolan pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to make sense of this ache for what, couldn't remember.

But the feeling remained, an open wound in his soul.

As he stared into the darkness, Nolan knew this was real, he'd have to confront this phantom pain one day.

For now, though, he could only sit there, haunted by the ghost of a bond lost and forgotten.

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