"Convergence"

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Okay - that sounds bad. The clock is running and time is short for a solution.

One minor nitpick - the cooperation amongst these various crews from different universes / eras seems almost too smooth. Perhaps it's a testament to their training and discipline, but the lack of suspicion, confusion or conflict is somewhat jarring. Kwan provides some reaction, but overall this seems pretty low-key and emotionally flat. Of course, that may now change with their approaching doom.

That aside, this is great stuff! A wonderful plot - can't wait to see how you handle this.

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

One minor nitpick - the cooperation amongst these various crews from different universes / eras seems almost too smooth. Perhaps it's a testament to their training and discipline, but the lack of suspicion, confusion or conflict is somewhat jarring. Kwan provides some reaction, but overall this seems pretty low-key and emotionally flat. Of course, that may now change with their approaching doom.

Hmm, hadn't actually thought about that. Did kinda think that they're (mostly) all Starfleet so they won't butt heads. Will address that in a new sections time though, but you'll have to wait for that. I may revise coming sections, as you've given me something more to think about.

-Bry

 

[Mistral]

I agree with TLR, more conflict between crews. Although they are probably still in a bit of shock...perhaps the command meeting will have a few sparks...

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

Oh great, now there's some pressure. This was just to be a story to get characters I liked back into play in our universe, now its becoming a whole new entity!

I will see about adding some conflict, I am after all pretty much making this up as I go. So watch this space for: Silva La Forge and Jack Crusher battle to the death in engineering, Doctor Kalandra infects the non-humans with Space Plague, Lang mutinees and takes command, Kes and Ilia get into a spot of mud wrestling in the cargo bay.

More to come.

-Bry

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

I will see about adding some conflict, I am after all pretty much making this up as I go. So watch this space for: Silva La Forge and Jack Crusher battle to the death in engineering, Doctor Kalandra infects the non-humans with Space Plague, Lang mutinees and takes command, Kes and Ilia get into a spot of mud wrestling in the cargo bay.

-Bry

Now you're talking!

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

“Glinn,” a familiar voice said quietly from behind him, drawing Damar’s attention from watching Crewman Kaplan and Ziyal. He looked up at Seskal, who stood stiffly, hands on her hips, watching everyone else around her with suspicion.

“Yes Gil?” he replied, weary from being awake for too long. Aboard the shuttle he’d been too pumped full of adrenaline and stimulants to sleep, and now both were wearing off, he was feeling exhaustions full effects. He’d have suspected that Seskal would have been feeling them as well, but she appeared alert and focused. He couldn’t help but wonder how she managed it, but even aboard the Kreyzak (the Galor-Class warship he’d served aboard before being rescued by the Repulse) the woman had been an enigma to all. She had been a survivor from another ship they had rescued, but they had never been able to find out much about her, aside her name and rank.

“Are we just going to sit here and wait?”

“What would you suggest we do Seskal?” he challenged, though he had no desire to fight her, the last thing he needed was a hot-headed subordinate making things worse.

“We should be represented! Why weren’t you invited to join the command officers? You were Second Officer onboard the Kreyzak! Surely that would qualify you.”

“The Kreyzak is no more, or have you forgotten that day Seskal?” he asked. The question brought the memories flooding back. The damaged cruiser had entered the Badlands, almost seven hundred people packed into every available space, as they tried to hide from a Borg patrol. But the plasma fields hadn’t hidden them as well as they’d hoped, and three assimilated Hideki-Class strike ships had found them. In the battle that followed, Gul Dukat had managed to destroy the Borg ships but not before they beamed two hundred drones aboard. They had begun to assimilate the ship deck by deck and section by section, until only forty of the crew and refugees had been left, huddled together and waiting for their end. But before their assimilated shipmates could get to them, they had been beamed out onto the Repulse. Then the Starfleet ship had destroyed the Kreyzak, and the forty Cardassian men, women and children had been invited to remain onboard by Captain Taggart. Given the animosity that had existed between the Union and the Federation, the gestured had made Damar immediately suspicious. But Taggart had proven to be an honourable and decent man, who treated the Cardassian refugees with respect, integrating the officers and technicians into the crew, so as to use their experiences and talents to keep the Repulse flying.

But now he is dead. Killed saving his ship and crew, just like Dukat, Damar lamented. He looked back towards Tora Ziyal, the daughter Dukat had had with his Bajoran mistress, whom had also been assimilated on the Kreyzak. Dukat had been mortally wounded trying to save her from the drones, but before the Gul died he had whispered to Damar, with his dying breathes, “Take care of Ziyal.”

In the five months since that day, Damar had done just as his superior had ordered, and made sure that Ziyal was well. He had managed to find her a job on the Repulse, helping out in the classrooms that had been built for all the evacuated children. He had made sure that she had decent accommodation, sharing with only one other woman her own age who worked on a damage control team. Everyday he had also given her a third of his rations, and made sure that she was well. Though she was grieving the loss of both of her parents, she would give him the faintest of smiles, which would always make his day seem a little bit better. When the evacuation alert had sounded, after seeing to those under his command, he had gone straight to her evacuation point and arrived moments before the Borg had beamed in. Grabbing her hand, they had run, heading away from the drones, desperate to get to the shuttlebay.

“Of course I haven’t forgotten!” she snapped. “But we must make sure that our interests are looked after, just as much as theirs are!”

In a flash, moving so quickly he made himself almost headlight, Damar was on his feet and in Seskal’s face. In a low voice filled with menace, he hissed through clenched teeth, “Now you listen to me Gil Seskal. The moment the crew of the Repulse chose to risk their lives to save ours, we became a part of them. That means that Lieutenant Commander Larkin speaks for us as well as Kwan or Burke or any of the others. Whatever she decides, I will support one hundred percent. If you don’t like that, then I guess you can just rot in the Underworld! Got that?”

Seskal squared her shoulders and brought herself up to her full height, which was still several centimetres shorter than himself. “Aye sir,” she replied, her tone seething. She turned on her heel and stalked away from him, and disappeared into the small crowd.

Damar, sat back down, rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in the palms of his hands. He sat by himself for a few moments before he felt a soft hand on his bicep. He peeked out from his hands and saw Ziyal sitting next to him, a look of concern on her sweet face.

“Are you alright Corat?” she asked. Ziyal was the only person that used, or even knew, his given name. A fact that he liked but would never admit.

He nodded. “Just exhausted. I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

He gave her a smile. “Yeah. No need to worry.” She gave him a small smile in return and rested her head on his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her, so close to him, and for the briefest of moments, he forgot about everything and focused solely on the young woman sitting next to him.

***

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

Rebecca Lang stood at her console and surveyed the incoming sensor data, not that it made much sense. She also ran an integrity check on the shields, which had dropped to sixty percent when they had been pulled into the sinkhole, but which were slowly climbing back up to one hundred—they were at ninety-one percent now. Once those tasks were completed she tried to find something else to occupy her thoughts, rather than dwell on the creepy feeling she’d had when she’d escorted the survivors to the cargo bay.

Cavit, Carey, Hogan, Durst, Jetal, Suder. All of them had served aboard Voyager, and all had been killed in action. Then there was Seska, the Cardassian spy on the Maquis crew; Kes, who had left the ship and was still back in the Delta Quadrant. And Kaplan. Ensign Marie Kaplan had been her roommate on the Intrepid-Class ship, and her best friend as well. But she had been killed by a group of liberated former Borg. When Lang has seen Kaplan walking through the corridor of the Yosemite, looking like hell, she’d been so surprised that she’d stopped her. Lang’s brain unable to register what she was seeing. But Marie had looked at her like a stranger, and moved forward with the others.

She felt as though she’d been slapped.

A low vibration travelled up her legs from the deck. She looked around and saw that the cadets had felt it too. “Report.”

“The sinkhole seems to have gone through some kind of gravitational shift Lieutenant,” Cadet Nalan stated. “I’m attempting to track down an explanation.”

From behind her the science console beeped. She looked back at T’Rees, the Vulcan who had replaced Watson. The dark skinned young man looked back at her. “Sensors have picked up increasing levels of quantum radiation. At its present rate, it will reach lethal levels in forty-nine minutes. But our shields should be able to safeguard the crew.”

She looked back at her sensor display and saw the rising radiation levels, and the impact they were having on the shields. T’Rees was right; the shields would keep the crew safe from it, but only as long as they remained above seventy percent. Anything lower and the accumulated degenerative effect of the radiation would overpower the shields, and every member of the crew would be roasted alive.

No doubt the research team would be keeping an eye on the sensors and notice the radiation levels. But she would need to inform the Commander. She tapped her combadge, “Lang to Madden. We have a problem sir.”

***

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

The cramped and bustling confines of the cargo bay reminded Kes of the Kazon Destroyers she had been on, that had brought her—and twenty five thousand other members of her species—to the Alpha Quadrant. That day still felt almost dreamlike and unreal, she could hardly believe it was over four years ago.

She had been in the gardens of the offshoot colony, which had broken away from the mainstream population and their blind devotion to the Caretaker. She had been talking with Daggin, who had insisted on helping her—as he always did—when the ground had shook. The stopped and looked around them. When the group rumbled again, dust fell from the caves ceiling. Somewhere close people shouted and screamed. Their fear was palpable, as she felt it too.

They had gone back to the marketplace with the others who had been tending to the gardens, all of them talking over one another, trying to discover what was going on. Back in the market, families huddled together and friends comforted one another. Daggin had taken her hand, and she was grateful for the gesture—he always made her feel safe.

After an hour, the shaking had stopped. Soon after, two others entered the market. Kes immediately recognised Toscat, the leader of the Ocampan people who stayed in the city, but the dark haired man next to him was a mystery. He introduced himself as Tanis, and said that he was from a group of Ocampa who had gone with the Caretaker’s mate, an entity they called Suspiria. He and Toscat told them that they needed to leave the underground; they needed to get to the surface, in order to survive.

Though uncertain of Toscat’s and the newcomer’s intentions, they had packed up all that they could and gone up to the surface. For Kes it was a dream come true. She had always wanted to visit the surface, to feel the sunlight warm her face, to see the sky, and marvel at the stars. On the dry and dusty surface of their homeworld, there had been a fleet of enormous ship, as far as she could see. They were hurried inside and then headed out into space, the ships operating automatically. The ships travelled to an enormous station, where they were clustered in groups of ten and then enveloped in a shockwave and sent out in different directions, each group going out to find new worlds they could colonise.

The convoy she was on arrived in the Alpha Quadrant, where the Ocampa were helped by the Federation. They settled on a small moon, and as they worked on building their new home, Tanis and his people shared with the rest of the Ocampa, a technology they used to extend their lifespan. Kes, Daggin and the others they had been with, now had twenty to twenty-five years to look forward to. The Ocampa who had lived in the city had grown used to having everything provided for them, and were hopeless when it came to building their new colony. But Starfleet had come to help, offering technical assistance and skill. Due to their help, when Kes had turned two—the age at which she was considered an adult among her people—she applied to Starfleet, determined to repay them for their help and the kindness they had shown. She had always been interested in medicine and had considered going into nursing back on Ocampa, but at Starfleet Medical Academy she had gone through her studies faster than her classmates, partly due to her species ability to absorb and retain a great deal of information in a short space of time. She opted to become a doctor over a nurse, and had just completed her training in just four years. She’d been aboard the Mekong heading for her internship on Starbase 170.

Well I guess that won’t happen now, she realised sadly.

Just then, the doors opened, and the Andorian cadet who had met them at airlock stepped in. He looked around for a moment and stepped further into the hold. “Excuse me,” he announced, his voice deep and strong and carried above the chatter in the room without shouting. The inhabitants of the cargo bay stopped and looked at him. “I am looking for medical personnel,” he stated.

Kes stepped forward, as did the doctor from Voyager—whose name she couldn’t remember, but when she had met him over four years earlier, it had been a chaotic time with so much new information to take in and adapt to, and had been too much for even her impressive memory and recall. He gave her a slight nod of acknowledgement, but said nothing. The cadet gestured to the door he had come through. “Doctor Kalandra would like to see you in sickbay.”

Following on behind the Andorian, Kes could sense his thoughts and feelings; they were flowing from him like rapids. He was nervous, unsure about their current situation, but he tempered those emotions with his duty. He would follow his orders, do what was asked of him and hope that others would discover an answer for the mystery that they were facing. The name Watson popped into his head quickly followed by a swell of happiness, anxiety and passion. Kes blushed slightly and quickly withdrew from the current of his mind that she had been swept into. The young Andorian’s thoughts and feelings made her dwell on Daggin for a moment, but she shook her head clear of them

They went up in a turbolift and then through a couple of corridors before they entered sickbay. The room was small but functional, with one central biobed and three others on the far wall opposite the entrance. All of them were occupied. A mixture of black and grey uniforms moved around the room, though the ratio favoured black. This is a training ship, some of these officers must be medical students in their seventh of eight years, she deduced.

The oldest woman in the room moved forward, she was slim with long dark blond hair that fell over her shoulders, and soft blue eyes that held a lot of sadness. When she reached them she held out a hand. The human man gripped it. “Doctor Irina Kalandra,” she said by way of introduction.

“Doctor Lucas McGarry, CMO of the U.S.S. Saratoga,” he stated formally, looking around the sickbay, and didn’t appear overly impressed at what he saw.

Kalandra then turned to her, offering Kes her hand. They shook briefly. “Ensign Kes, medical intern to Starbase 170.”

“I’ve called in all the medical staff, as we’ve been getting reports of dizziness, headaches, nausea and a variety of other symptoms from across the ship,” Kalandra informed them. “We’ll need a hand in order to see to these cases, as well as continuing treatment on our other patients.”

“Just tell me what you need me to do Doctor,” Kes stated, eager to help out where she could.

“Engineering to sickbay. We’ve got a couple of cadets down here that are looking green around the gills,” stated the individual on the other end of the intercom.

“Understood Lieutenant. I’ll get someone down there immediately. Sickbay out.” She looked at McGarry. “Doctor, would you mind?”

“Perhaps it would be best if I remained here, I am ultimately capable of running a sickbay,” he replied, looking at Kalandra in a questioning manner.

Kes sensed a sudden burst of irritation and annoyance coming from the Yosemite’s CMO. She stepped closer to him, her sad blue eyes becoming hard. “This is my sickbay Doctor. I asked you here to help look after the young men and women aboard this ship, not to start bickering about authority. If you don’t want to help, then you are more than welcome to return to the cargo bay. But if you’re Hippocratic Oath means anything to you, you’ll grab a medkit and get down to deck six, and do you job!”

McGarry became angry. “I take my oath very seriously—”

“Good,” Kalandra cut him off. “Cadet Taalk, accompany Doctor McGarry to the engine room.”

“Aye sir,” the young Tellarite stated, then grabbed a medkit and stepped up to the lieutenant commander. McGarry glowered at Kalandra for a moment longer and then turned and headed out, the nursing cadet right behind him.

Kalandra took a deep breath and tried to relax a little. Then she turned to Kes. “Are you certified to run the cranial scanner?”

“Yes Doctor,” she replied.

“Could you run a scan on Lieutenant Burke, just to make sure that no bleeding or clots have formed? Followed by a deep neuro-tissue scan. I ran a scans when he first arrived but I just want to be certain.”

“Of course,” Kes replied and moved to the equipment trolley to begin the procedure, relieved that she could be useful. Like the young Andorian who escorted her to sickbay, she would focus on her duty, and leave the worrying about their situation to others.

***

 

[Mistral]

Cool. Nice sequences. Where next?

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

The meeting Madden had called of the senior most officers had gone over their current predicament, as well as looking at where they had come from and how—if they found a way to get everyone back to where they belonged—they would organise the logistics of getting the other ships back to their realities, from which had come the point about Lieutenant Commander Larkin and her crew, and how sending them back would be asking them to willingly go back into hell.

Larkin, who looked both physically and emotionally drained, obviously wasn’t keen on returning, but she had said that there could have been other Repulse survivors adrift and helpless and how, with their Captain dead, they were her responsibility. Madden couldn’t help but admire her conviction and dedication, willing to put herself back through that horror to save her people. Could I do the same thing in her place? he wondered, and didn’t know how to answer the question.

“I doubt that any of my crew would be willing to go back, but even if they elect not to go, I have to,” she had told them adamantly.

The subject had been tabled for the moment, with the general consensus being that the crew from the destroyed shuttle should be asked, if they would go back to their reality or not. What would happen to those who opted to remain behind, Madden didn’t know. They would have to go with one of the other ships, but which one? And would they be able to acclimatise to life in another universe?

These were questions to ask if it became an issue.

A few moments afterwards, Lang had contacted him from the bridge and told him of the increasing radiation and how they were safe so long as the shields stayed above seventy percent. He had instructed her to have the engine room divert all they could into the shields, and to ensure that the generators were operating properly and to keep a close eye on the radiation.

They continued on, agreeing that they should remain onboard the Yosemite until a plan could be devised and implemented (he had the shuttlebay prepare one of their own shuttles for Larkin, when the time came). Which led into the issue of authority, seeing as how aside from Madden, Larkin and Hoya, the other six seated at the table were all Captains (Jeffery Cavit of the Saratoga, Jack Crusher of the Picard, Lisa Cusak of the Olympia, Willard Decker of the Enterprise, Silva La Forge of the Hera and Paul Rice of the Lakota).

“Well there are six Captain’s here,” stated Cavit.

“I don’t know about anyone else’s,” began Cusak, “but in ours there aren’t any regs written for when trapped inside a subspace sinkhole, with six starship Captain’s present, who has authority.”

“Shouldn’t it be the person with the most experience?” suggested Captain Jack Crusher.

Decker looked around the room. “And who would that be?”

“If I’m not mistaken,” said Rice, “that would be Captain La Forge.”

Everyone in the conference room looked at her. Madden knew about the Silva La Forge from his own universe. She was noted for making first contact with the Breen, as well as being decorated numerous times for her bravery, valour and accomplishments in diplomacy. She had also been MIA for eight years, when the Hera had disappeared without a trace. Madden had known, before he began the meeting, that someone would replace him. He was glad that at least it was a Captain he knew, and one who was accomplished and more than capable.

“I would say,” La Forge began slowly, her hands clasped together and resting on the wooden tabletop, “that since this is Commander Madden’s ship, and that we will no doubt be relying on it for whatever solution to escape from this sinkhole, that he remain in order all command of this crisis.”

The statement just about floored him. A quick look around the room, told him that the others apparently felt the same way.

“With all due respect to the Commander,” Cavit said with a nod to the head of the table where Madden sat, “but you’ve been through more than anyone else here Captain La Forge. Our best chance of getting out of this situation is with someone who takes in the big picture, and can make the tough decisions.”

La Forge looked evenly at Cavit. “And obviously Commander Madden is capable of just that. Starfleet isn’t in a habit of putting people in charge of training ships that aren’t the best of the best.” She turned and looked right at him. “Commander, unfortunately I do not know you, your crew or this ship. But I trust those that choose to put on the uniform. I will help out wherever you need me, but this is your ship, and I won’t take it away from you.”

The occupants sat in silence for a moment. Madden had noticed that how when La Forge spoke, the others—even Larkin and Decker, neither of who had met her until a little over an hour ago—quietened down and listed to her. But out of all them in the room, La Forge was the longest serving officer, and therefore the senior most present. She sat at the table with a commanding presence, quietly taking in everything around her and offering sensible and well thought out opinions and options.

Before anyone else spoke the intercom chirped again, for a brief second Madden thought that it was Lang with another problem. “Taurik to Madden.”

He breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Madden here, go ahead Lieutenant.”

“Commander, I believe we have devised a theory as to what happened, a potential solution to allow us to escape, as well as a problem.”

“If it’s about the quantum radiation, Lieutenant Lang already told us about it.”

“Negative Commander. The sinkhole appears to be collapsing in on us,” the Vulcan stated in a detached tone, just as he would speak about the warp plasma conduits.

“What?” Rice interjected.

Madden tapped on the small control panel in front of him, and on the large monitor that dominated the inner bulkhead, opposite the viewports, came to life. It displayed an image of the science lab and all those in it. Taurik and the rest of the research team turned to face it.

“How long have we got?” he asked.

“Under two hours. I cannot be more specific at present.”

“So what is this thing?” Decker asked.

Quickly and efficiently, Taurik outlined Lieutenant Worf’s encounter with the quantum fissure and the differences between the two phenomena. It was something Madden had never heard of, but then again not every incident made the headlines—even those aboard the Federation flagship.

“But you said you have a potential solution,” said Cusak as soon as he was finished.

“Yes Captain. We will have to make an opening in the anomaly in order to escape, we believe that a highly focused resonance pulse would destabilise a small aperture in the subspace boundary of the sinkhole, allowing us to escape.”

“And that could get everyone back to where they belong?” Madden asked.

“With the data available to us at the present moment, I believe so Commander. We would have to adjust the resonance pulse to the quantum signature of all four alternate realities, however we have not yet devised a means to do this.”

From near the bottom of the table, Hoya cleared her throat politely. “Yes Lieutenant, do you have something to add?” asked La Forge.

“The subspace stresses we risk by punching through this anomaly could crush the hull like an egg sir,” she stated.

Madden noticed Taurik raise his eyebrow on the viewscreen, he was either impressed or shocked. “You are correct Lieutenant—” (Impressed, Madden decided) “—each ship would need to establish a static warp shell in order to survive the forces they would encounter.”

“How long will you need to crunch the numbers and come up with a plan?”

“We are continuing to work on it Commander. We shall inform you as soon as we have a workable strategy.”

“Understood Lieutenant. We won’t keep you any longer. Madden out.” He cut the commlink and the monitor reverted to the ship stats display once again. He looked around the room once again. “Alright, we have less than two hours. We should ready our people and ensure that both the Mekong and the Bell are ready for launch. Commander Larkin, you will have to speak with your people. Find out where they stand. Anything more?”

No one had anything else to add. He glanced at La Forge, and she gave him a small smile and a single nod of encouragement.

“Alright, let’s get to work.”

***

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

Opening his eyes, the light was blinding, and his head throbbed. Lieutenant Maxwell Burke shut them tightly again. His body was stiff and ached, but his head was by far the worst. Slowly, he opened his eyes again, letting them adjust top the too-bright illumination. When he was finally used to it, he quickly discovered that he was lying on a biobed, in a small medical ward. It was neater and cleaner than the Repulse’s, or any other ship’s he’d seen in the last four years. The staff moved from patient to patient, and from ward to ward efficiently, talking amongst themselves or offering reassurance to the men and women who had been injured—some of who looked barely out of their teens. He noticed that there were two distinct uniform types—one grey with blue shoulders, and the other black with grey shoulders and a blue shirt, neither of which he’d seen before.

Where am I? he asked himself, and wasn’t overly surprised when he didn’t get an answer. Above his head he heard the display change pitch, and that change immediately drew the attention of a kind looking human woman, whose long hair fell over her shoulders as she looked down at him with pale blue eyes.

“Lieutenant Burke, can you hear me?”

“How…” he tried to speak, and found his mouth dry. He tried to swallow, but found there was no moisture left in his mouth. She reached to a low shelf by his bed, and then brought a water pack to his mouth. He gratefully took a few sips, finding the cool clean water to be the better than any Saurian Brandy he’d ever had. When he was finally able to swallow again, he nodded at her and she took the water pack away. “How do you know who I am?” he croaked out.

“We saved you from the shuttlecraft before it broke apart,” the woman told him. “Lieutenant Commander Larkin told me who you were. I’m Doctor Kalandra. I’m just going to run a few scans to make sure you’re all right. You suffered a nasty concussion.” She ran a couple of devices over his head, and kept her eyes on the display at the top of the biobed. After a few minutes she looked back down at him. “Everything looks good. How do you feel?”

“Headache…also feeling stiff and heavy.”

“I’ll give you something for the headache. You’ll just need to rest. Regain some strength. From the looks of things you’ve been through quite a lot in the last few years.”

“You could say that,” he croaked in reply.

She gave him a little more water, but when the doors opened she looked back at the new arrival. He couldn’t raise his head to see who she was looking at. Larkin then appeared on the other side of the bed.

“How you doing Max?”

“A-ok Commander,” he said, trying to sit up. Kalandra put her hands on his shoulders and with little effort kept him on the bed.

“Just rest Lieutenant. I’ll get you something for the headache.” She then looked at the XO. “You’ve got a couple of minutes, he needs to rest.” With that she moved off.

Burke looked back at Larkin. “What happened?”

“You were knocked out when the breach shockwave hit us. Since then we’ve been pulled into a subspace sinkhole that has crossed realities and pulled in three other crews from very different universes.”

“What?” he murmured, wondering if he was hallucinating or hearing things.

“These other universes,” she began, her face a mixture of overlapping emotions, “there’s…there’s been no invasion. The Borg aren’t in the Alpha Quadrant.”

His eyes opened wide as what she said sunk in. “They aren’t on the run?”

“No. In one universe, the Borg attacked a few years after Wolf 359, but they were stopped. And in another, they haven’t seen anything from the Collective since then.”

Burke couldn’t figure out why she was telling him this. Then it came to him. “We have to go back, don’t we?”

Larkin shook her head. “The others are working on a way to get us out of this sinkhole and back to where we belong. You don’t have to go back, if you don’t want to. I’m sure one of the other ships could take you with them. You could have a normal life again!”

“What about you?”

“I have to go back. I have to help the other survivors from the Repulse.”

“Couldn’t we just have them come to us? We could all get out.”

She shook her head. “The anomaly is collapsing. Once we get out there’s no going back.”

“I’m going with you sir,” he stated, trying once again to sit up, but with all his upper body strength gone he could barely get his head off the pillow.

“No Max. You’re hurt, you need proper treatment.”

“Sir,” he started, his voice finding strength from somewhere, “with Taggart dead, you are the Captain. And as Chief Tactical Officer, I will not simply abandon my CO. I’m going back with you.”

“I don’t suppose I can talk you out of it?”

“Have you ever been able to before?”

She smiled slightly. “You’re as stubborn as a Rekallian Bull.”

Kalandra returned with a hypospray and a stern expression. “He needs to rest Commander.”

Larkin nodded and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

“Just let me know when we’re ready to go sir. I’ll be there.” She nodded and left. Burke looked up at the doctor and gestured to the hypo. “That better not have a sedative in it Doc. I’ll be leaving pretty soon.”

She pressed the device to his neck and injected the drug into his system. He rested his head on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. His mind reeling at what Larkin had told him. The chance to have a quiet life, with no more Borg, no more running, or sleepless nights, or fears of becoming a cybernetic zombie. But he couldn’t just let Larkin go back alone. He would do his duty, even if he died because of it.

***

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

Since informing the senior officers about their findings, the research team had been working hard to try and come up with a solution. Jadzia Idaris, Chief Science Officer aboard the Akira-Class starship Defiant, found the puzzle to be something that she could really get her teeth into. It wasn’t that she wasn’t kept busy on the Defiant, but working in pure research was a luxury she didn’t have all that often.

If it hadn’t been for Benjamin she might have asked to transfer out.

She had first met Ben Sisko when he was reassigned to Utopia Planitia, following the destruction of the Saratoga and the death of his wife. Since the first time she’d met him, she’d been attracted to him, but she had never acted on those feelings. After two years together on the Mars, he had been given command of Deep Space 9, and he’d asked her to go with him. She’d accepted, both because he had asked her and because it was a good opportunity. After just over a year onboard, a coup by a ground called The Circle had forced Starfleet and every non-Bajoran out of their system, after which they had sealed their borders. After then, Sisko had been promoted to Captain and assigned to the Defiant, and she had gone with him once again. But that year on DS9 had helped him to fully come to terms with Jennifer’s death, and a year after taking command of the Defiant he had invited her to dinner in his quarters. Since then, their relationship had grown and evolved, becoming more complex and more important to the both of them.

She shook her head to clear it of those thoughts; dwelling on Ben would only distract her from what she needed to focus on. She brought up her latest series of scans and studied the telemetry. They had already decided that the only way to generate a powerful enough resonance pulse was to use the ship’s deflector dish (and work had already started on necessary modifications), what they needed to work on was a way to adjust the pulse with the delicate precision needed in order to match the quantum signatures of all four different realities. They had already scanned an individual from each one and set that data into the computer.

This is where ten lifetimes would come in handy. The melancholy thought was one that came to her every once in a while. If it hadn’t been for Curzon Dax she would have been a successful Initiate and could have been Joined for several years by now. But the demanding, coarse and vindictive old man had made sure that she would never be worthy of that honour. When she learnt that Benjamin was good friends with Dax, it hadn’t sat well with her. But in the time they had become involved, he had rarely mentioned his old mentor. Something he had done for her, so as to make her happy. Stop daydreaming already! she mentally berated herself. Focus on the job so I can get back to him.

Lieutenant Commander Carey stepped over to her and she looked up at the S.C.E. officer. “Lieutenant,” he said quietly. “I’ve had an idea, but I need someone else to go over my numbers, just to make sure.”

“Of course sir,” she replied and took the PADD he handed her. She quickly read over the schematics and data on the device, and found herself becoming hopeful. She looked back up at him, a smile spreading across her lips and handed the PADD back. “I’d say it looks like a plan Commander.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said with a smile of his own, and then turned to the research team leader. “Lieutenant Taurik, I think I’ve got a plan.” The Vulcan quickly joined them. “We have to set the deflector to a broad spectrum resonance pulse, right,” he asked, though he knew the details as well as the rest of them. Taurik gave a single nod. “Once it’s activated, we could then direct the same kind of quantum scanning beam that Cadet Watson used at its focal point. That sensor beam could easily be modified to all four quantum signatures.” When he was finished, he handed the PADD to Taurik.

He too studied the details of Carey’s plan quickly. When he was finished he looked back at the human. “Which array would you propose we use?”

“The lateral sensor array is the only one that can run such a precise and adaptable scan. We could have it ready to go in ten minutes, it that,” he said, his excitement evident in his voice.

Idaris noticed a subtle shift in Taurik’s expression and stance, and she began to get a very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Unfortunately, our lateral array was fused when we were pulled into this fissure. Repairing the array is not possible. It would have to be replaced at a starbase.”

“Are you sure? Maybe my team and I could take a look at it.”

“Lieutenant Commander, I assure you, I was quite thorough in my diagnostic of the lateral array. Every circuit has been overloaded, all the wiring has melted, and the optronic relays have fused. The damage is considerate, and we do not have either the parts or the time to attempt repairs that would ultimately be ineffective,” the Yosemite’s engineer stated, his voice remaining calm.

“What if we tried to adjust the deflector dish itself?” she asked, not willing to give up when they were so close.

Taurik looked at her. “We would need to shut down the deflector and recalibrate it after each attempt. However, with the amount of energy we are routing to the dish, there is an ninety-eight point seven percent chance that the deflector will burn out after the first time.”

“What about installing surge protectors?” Carey asked.

“We only have one onboard, and it has been connected to the shield generators.”

“Couldn’t we modify the runabout and the other shuttle?” Idaris suggested.

Taurik looked doubtful. “Neither the V’Lar-Class shuttle or the runabout have the necessary power to generate a resonance pulse, as well as the static warp bubble, the necessary shields to protect the crews from the radiation, and the impulse thrust needed to escape.”

“So what you’re saying,” stated Carey slowly, “is that only one crew can go back to where they belong?”

“Yes,” was his simple answer.

“How do we decide who gets to go home?” Idaris asked. Both men looked at her, and neither one had an answer.

***

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

Madden sat at the head of the table in the conference room once again. After Taurik had come to him with their plan to escape, as well as the problem it caused, he had called the command team back again and told them of the situation.

The arguing and bickering that filled the room had begun immediately after he’d finished. The representatives from each universe stated their case for why they had to return, whilst the others shot it down with their own reasons, which were then torn apart by someone else. And so the discussion went. With a little over an hour until the subspace fissure closed in on them and destroyed the Yosemite, they weren’t getting any closer to a consensus.

The ship vibrated again as the anomaly went through another gravitational shift. Madden glimpsed out the viewport and saw the shields crackle with the strange forces put on them by the sinkhole, not to mention the now-lethal levels of quantum radiation that surrounded them, and would kill everyone onboard if the shields dropped below seventy percent. The last time he’d checked they were holding steady ay ninety-six.

“If you think that I’m going into a universe where the Borg rule, just to save a few hundred people who may or may not still be living, you are sorely mistaken!” Jeffery Cavit stated at Nadia Larkin.

“That’s my crew out there! What if it was your crew adrift? Would you write them off so quickly?” Larkin shot back.

“Commander, no one is saying that your crew is expendable,” interjected Cusak. “But you are asking everyone onboard this ship to face a living hell.”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Madden roared, unaware he’d said anything for a moment, when the room was plunged into silence. Everyone stared at him, and for half a heartbeat he felt a little sheepish at the momentary loss of control. “We all have reasons we want to get back to where we belong, and we can each argue our point until the universe ends. But seeing as how this little nook of the universe we are currently in will implode in an hour, we have to reach a decision.”

“How many were onboard before this all started Commander?” La Forge asked.

“Sixty cadets, twelve instructors. Why?”

“The only fair way to do this would be by going with the numbers. There was thirty-five on the Mekong, another ten survivors of the Repulse, and five aboard Captain Decker’s shuttle. Even combining them the Yosemite still has a majority.”

“We could open it to a vote,” suggested Hoya.

“How do you think each crew would vote Lieutenant?” Decker asked the Benzite. They all knew that the vote would be split in almost the exact same demographic.

Captain Paul Rice cleared his throat. He looked at Madden and then at La Forge, who sat opposite him. “I agree with Captain La Forge. As the Vulcan’s are always so fond of saying, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

Cusak nodded in agreement. “We have to give the kids aboard this ship a chance at having the lives they were meant to have.” She then looked at Larkin. “I am truly sorry Commander. I know you are responsible for those people, and if there was any way for us to save them as well, I would support it one hundred percent. But we have to deal with what is here and now.”

Madden saw tears roll down Larkin’s cheeks, as her head slowly drooped down. She had been holding herself together with so little for so long, she was exhausted from the effort, and made no attempt to hide her grief. They all sat quietly, for a few moments as Larkin slowly reeled herself back in and composed herself once again. Madden could feel his heart breaking for the woman, who had gone through so much and who’d been willing to endure more for the sake of keeping others safe.

“I understand Captain,” Larkin replied softly, palming the tears from he cheeks. “Thank you.”

“So, do we agree to go back with Commander Madden and his crew?” asked La Forge. There were several nods and acknowledgements from around the table. “We have our consensus. Commander Madden. We will remain aboard the Yosemite and return to your universe.”

Madden nodded. “Very well.”

***

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

Forty-Seven Minutes Until Sinkhole Collapse

Six minutes earlier, Jordan Branch had stood in the makeshift relief shelter and listened to Commander Madden, as he had outlined the situation and how the senior officers had decided that they would return to the Yosemite’s reality. If there had been any way to let them all go home it would have been taken, but the combination of time and the lack of resources meant that they had only one shot, and this was it.

In the stunned silence that filled the cargo bay afterwards, they had said how both the Alexander Graham Bell and the Mekong would have to be left behind. Neither would be able to make it on their own, and remaining docked to the Yosemite would apply undue pressure on the hull and risk a breach. They were ordered to download the computer records and logs, retrieve their personal belongings and whatever supplies they could, and then set both ships up for remote navigation.

Branch stood in the cockpit of the Bell seeing to the data transfer, as Lieutenant Ilia set the shuttles navigation system up for the remote control link. Sonak was helping with the modifications to the deflector dish, Thelin was still in sickbay due to his head wound and concussion, and Captain Decker was in the aft section, grabbing their luggage and the emergency supplies.

As he worked, he made sure to avoid looking at the chronometer. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of the ticking clock they were racing against. He finished setting up the data transfer link and tapped the companel. “Branch to Cadet Nalan.”

“Nalan here, go ahead Commander,” came the prompt response.

“I’ve established the data uplink. You can begin the transfer.”

“Standby.” There was a brief pause, no doubt as the cadet checked their connection. “Link established. Initiating data transfer. Estimate three minutes until completion.”

“Understood. Branch out.” With his job done, he turned to Ilia as she tapped her own companel and informed the helm that they were ready with the auto-navigation. The cadet she was speaking to confirmed it and she signed off. She looked back at him, a air of sadness in her large, dark eyes.

“This doesn’t feel real,” he said, looking out the viewport at the swirling mass of energies. “And now we’ll never get back home. What do we do now?”

“We live Commander. One day at a time,” she said softly, following his gaze out the window. They stood in silence for a moment before she said, “It is beautiful.”

Branch nodded in agreement. The first time he’d seen the countless shades of blue, grey and white through that very viewport, twisting and mixing all around them, he had thought the exact same thing. But this anomaly was proving to be both beautiful and deadly. The deck vibrated again, as it had been doing for well over an hour, as though the fissure had to remind them that it was about to crush them into debris.

Behind them, the door opened with a soft hiss. They both looked back to see Decker standing in the doorway. “Everything good to go?”

“Yes sir,” Branch replied.

“We’d better get going then.”

Taking one more look out the viewport, he nodded and followed after Ilia. Once the Deltan reached Decker, he rapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her closer to him, her arm went around his waist, drawing them tighter together.

They moved from the cockpit, through the passage where the cabins were located, and then into the communal area at the back of the shuttle, at the back of which was the airlock. They stepped through onto the Yosemite. Branch was the last one off. Once he was off the Bell, he tapped the panel next to the airlock that closed and sealed the doors.

***

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

Forty-Six Minutes Until Sinkhole Collapse

Hoya and Jetal headed towards the Mekong to get the ship ready. They were noticeably quiet. Neither of them knew what to say, and so instead of meaningless platitudes they opted for silent reflection. They would give up their lives as they knew them, and would have to face a whole new world.

As she thought about it, Hoya realised that aside from a few friends, she wasn’t leaving that much else behind. As a Benzite, she didn’t have the same kind of family structure as Jetal or Pechetti; she hadn’t seen either of her parents in over ten years. She hadn’t been particularly close to anyone on Benzar, she wasn’t married, had no dependants. She would miss the friends she had made since entering Starfleet, but she still had Ahni and Michael, and she was as close to them as anyone else.

But she knew that Ahni would be feeling the sense of impending loss and dread. She was close to her parents and older sister, and being the warm and friendly person she was, she’d be leaving behind a lot of people who would never know what had happened to her. Not to mention that young dockhand who always seemed to be around whenever we were at Alpha Base, Hoya realised. Ahni had been her usual friendly and open self with the young man; she’d never noticed the longing looks he had given her, the way he blushed when she smiled at him and how he’d make any excuse to speak to her. Hoya had planned on setting the two of them up when they returned to the Rigelian space station. I guess that won’t happen now.

They rounded a corner and entered the corridor where the airlock was just ahead of them. As they approached, she couldn’t help but feel that something was off, but couldn’t quiet put her finger on it. She tried to shake off the feeling, but it lingered.

Just as they reached the docking hatch she realised what it was. There was no guard! She’d noticed on her way to the command meeting that a guard was stationed at the entrance to both docking ports. So where is he?

She stopped and looked down the corridor they had come, and the intersection that curved out of view. Jetal had noticed that she had stopped and paused to look at her.

“Hoya?”

The ruby red phaser beam missed Jetal by millimetres, followed a split-second later by the weapons telltale whine. Hoya grabbed her and flung them to the deck behind the bulkhead, just as a second beam scorched the wall where they’d been standing. They were just out of the angle of fire, but for how long?

Slapping her combadge, she called, “Security alert, docking port two!”

***

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

Forty-Three Minutes Until Sinkhole Collapse

On the bridge, Lang sat in the Command Chair. Madden was down in the cargo bay, and he’d once again left her in charge on the bridge. Though she was usually content to remain at her station, she knew that she had to give her cadets time at tactical—even in the midst of their current situation—and so she’d called Cadet ch’Shaln to the bridge to take her post.

She found being in the “big chair” to be an odd sensation. Lang had always expected that once she sat in it, she would feel different—more commanding. But aside from being a bit more comfortable and supportive, it was like any other chair onboard. I guess Captain Janeway just made it look more impressive that it really is, she told herself.

Before she could get used to the feel, the intercom burst to life. “Security alert, docking port two!”

It was a voice Lang recognised as the pilot of the runabout, which was docked at port two. She was immediately on her feet and looking down at Nalan. “Anyone onboard the Mekong?”

The J’naii checked its sensors for a moment and then looked back at her. “Reading one Cardassian and one human lifesign onboard.”

Lang slapped her combadge. “Security to docking port two,” she called, already on her way off the bridge. As she stepped into the turbolift she called, “Xharis, the bridge is yours.” The doors closed and she ordered the carriage to deck four. As it descended, she tapped her combadge again. “Lang to Madden.”

“Go ahead Lieutenant.”

“Sir, we have a security alert from docking port two. It looks like one of the Cardassians is aboard the runabout.”

There was the briefest of pauses, before he replied, “It has to be the Gil. No one seen her for at least the last half-hour.”

“I’m almost there now sir.”

“I’ll meet you in corridor eleven-port. Madden out.”

***

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

Forty-One Minutes Until Sinkhole Collapse

Security on the Starfleet ship was light. There were no guards assigned to the cargo bay, and there were few people going about the corridors. It was only when Ilani Seskal reached the airlock to the runabout that she encountered a guard, a young human who looked more bored than anything else. As she’d approached he had stiffened and scrutinised her. She pretended to be lost and looking for her way back to the cargo bay. As he started to give her directions, one swift strike to the back of his head had knocked him out cold. Humans have such weak skulls, she mused.

After dragging him into the midship compartment, she had gone into the cockpit and started trying to circumvent the controls. All her training as an Obsidian Order deep cover operative paid off. She was trained at infiltration and covert operations, computer hacking and data retrieval, and stealth combat. All of which she had put to use monitoring the Cardassian Central Command, looking for dissention in the ranks, enemy spies and threats to the Union from within the military. But her mission had come to a rather unceremonious end, when the Borg invaded.

She’d set her scanner to alert her is anyone approached, and when it picked up two humanoids, she grabbed the Starfleet phaser she had liberated from the human guard, upped the setting and fired. Her first shots had narrowly missed both women who approached. She’d heard the call to security. Which meant that Seskal wouldn’t have much time. She had set up a computer virus to unlock the system and allow her to pilot the ship away, allowing her to keep the Starfleeters at bay.

She wouldn’t go back. The do-gooder Federation officers would make her go back, their dogma of non-interference would force her, Damar and the others back to their reality, to face off against the Borg. She would rather take her chances trying to find a way out of the sinkhole. Her training had been focused on helping her to survive. She wouldn’t give up without a fight.

Seskal snuck a quick look down the corridor and saw a small number of security guards arrive, three in black, two in grey and a strange red insect-like creature. She ducked back into the runabout and glanced at the modified scanner she always kept secreted away on her person. It was connected to the ships control systems and was going through every decryption algorithm she knew of. Had the ship been from her own reality it would have been easy to crack the Starfleet codes, but the universe the runabout came from obviously used radically different security protocols and her trusted device was having trouble subverting them.

No matter. She had the high ground. A transporter inhibitor would stop them from either beaming her out or a security team in. There was only one way in, and had plenty of over. And thanks to Starfleet designers, her weapon would have more than enough energy to deal with the two pilots who were still pinned down, the security team and a few dozen others.

I won’t go back!

***

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Just getting caught up. You've certainly ratcheted up the stakes and the tension! This is a thoroughly engaging and imaginative story - impatiently waiting for the next installment!

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

Thirty-Nine Minutes Until Sinkhole Collapse

Commander Martin Madden arrived in the corridor, just as Lang was splitting her team up. He noted that she had gone for herself, Ensign Brolis and Chief Wesker—the two other security instructors onboard—as well as three cadets. Seeing as how the Yosemite’s mission hadn’t expected any security situations other than drills and training scenarios, she had made a good call in teaming a fourth-year cadet with an instructor.

She had sent the other two instructors and their accompanying cadets to cover the other approaches to the airlock. Brolis and Cadet Kumara would approach from fore, whilst Chief Wesker and Cadet Ha-Jironith would come from aft. That left Lang, Cadet T9 Red and himself to go down the main corridor.

Lang handed him a phaser, and quickly outlined the situation as best she knew it. Gil Seskal was inside and armed, Lieutenant Hoya and Ensign Jetal were pinned down, and it looked like Cadet Miller, who’d been on guard duty, was also onboard the runabout.

“Alright,” he said after she was finished. “From what Glinn Damar tells me, he hasn’t seen her for a short while, so I doubt she knows about all the developments—why else would she be trying to steal a ship? She probably thinks that she’ll be sent back to her reality.”

“Might be the good idea if we could,” Lang stated, never taking her eyes from the docking port.

“Meaning?”

She glanced back at him. “I knew her sir—well in our universe at least. She was an undercover Cardassian agent, who had infiltrated the Maquis disguised as a Bajoran called Seska. When she was onboard Voyager she tried to give advanced technology to the Kazon in return for protection. When she was discovered she defected to them. Afterwards, she became a continued threat—including seizing control of the ship and stranding the crew on a planet for several weeks.”

“That was in our universe Lieutenant. In her own, she’s been fighting against the Borg, witness her homeworld destroyed and been on the run for months. I doubt that anyone would willing go back to that that kind of life.”

“Yes sir. Just thought you should have all the facts.”

“I appreciate it Lieutenant.” Just then Lang’s combadge chirped twice, both teams signalled they were in position. “Okay, let’s move forward.”

Clutching his phaser tightly, he led them down the corridor, using the door alcoves for cover. Each of them moving closer in stages, as the other two covered their advance. Madden was impressed to see Cadet Red’s flawless execution of the manoeuvre, the pillbug-like Nasat was far more nimble and agile than she looked, and Lang had obviously done a fine job of training her.

When they were still several meters from the entrance, he signalled them to stay put for a moment. “Gil Seskal,” he called, his voice echoing down the corridor. “It’s Commander Madden. We need to talk.”

He saw her quickly look out from where she was hidden, and her eyes immediately locked onto him. A split-second later she raised her phaser and fired off another shot. He ducked back and it hit the bulkhead, only a few centimetres from where his face was. The scent of scalded duranium filled his nostrils. Her phaser was set to at least level ten, well within the ‘kill’ settings. From down the corridor, he saw Lang and Red had their phasers up and trying to pick out a target. He expected that the other two teams would be doing the same.

“Seskal,” he tried again, this time staying covered so she couldn’t take any more shots at him. “We can’t send you back to your reality. We are running out of time and don’t have the resources. Even if we could, we would never have sent you without your consent. You could have gone with any of the others and had a life away from the Borg. It would have been your choice.”

He heard her give a humourless single laugh. “Do you take me for a fool Commander? Wouldn’t that violate your Prime Directive, or some other such rule? Starfleet is the defenders of the status quo; everything in its place, and a place for everything.”

“Not this time. These are unheard of circumstances, and no one would ever force you or the other from your shuttle to go back into that life.” He glanced down the corridor again. “We are not your enemy Gil.”

There was a long pause. Madden doubted that she was buying it. If there was more time, he would have worked on the negotiations longer, tried to build up a trust, but he just didn’t have the time. He tapped his combadge. “Madden to cargo bay one.”

“Cargo bay one, Nelson here sir.”

Nelson was an operations division cadet, who’d been assigned to the cargo bay to look after the needs of their guests. “Cadet, get Glinn Damar on the commlink ASAP.”

“Yes sir,” Nelson replied quickly.

A few moments later, Damar’s voice came through her combadge. “This is Damar.”

“Glinn, right now Gil Seskal is in the Mekong and it looks like she is getting ready to depart. I’ve told her that we weren’t going to force any of you to return, but she doesn’t believe me. Could you try to convince her?”

“I will try,” he replied sounding weary.

“Thank you. Standby.” He tapped his communicator again. “Madden to Nalan.”

“Go ahead Commander.”

“Nalan, patch Cadet Nelson’s combadge and mine into the runabouts comm system. Quickly please.”

“Aye sir.”

After less than twenty seconds they were patched into the runabout. “Gil this is Madden again. We have to end this standoff.”

“Then let me leave Commander. I’ll take my chances alone,” she replied over the link.

“Seskal,” Damar began, “do you really think you can find a way to escape in less than an hour? The Starfleet scientists have found a way to escape, to return us to Commander Madden’s reality. We won’t be going back to face the Borg again.”

“You’ve been duped by them Glinn.”

“Dammit Seskal! I order you to stand down.”

“You are a pawn of Starfleet Glinn, and I therefore do not recognise you’re authority over me.”

“Gil, do you plan on leaving with Cadet Miller onboard?” Madden asked, not liking how things remained stalled.

“Let’s call him insurance.”

Madden noticed movement behind him, and saw Lang giving him a series of hand gestures, suggesting that they use a stun grenade. He gave her the signal to standby, and say as she removed the explosive from the back of her belt—he hadn’t noticed it on her when he’d arrived.

“I can’t allow that Gil. Hand him over immediately, or we will take action.”

Over the commlink he heard something beeping rapidly. “Looks like I’ll be leaving now Commander,” she told him, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

Madden nodded at Lang, who swiftly moved closer to the hatch, in order to make her throw an easier one, given the small space she had to aim for. “That’s unfortunate Gil. Hopefully you’ll feel differently when you wake up.”

At that moment Lang threw the stun grenade. It sailed through the air in a graceful arch, through the docking hatch and landed on the far side of the runabout cockpit.

“Fire in the hole!” Lang called out as soon as it entered the Mekong. The Starfleet personnel took cover. They was a loud pulse-like noise and a flash of light, followed by silence. Madden looked out from the alcove he stood in, as Lang and Red rushed forward, joined at the intersection by Brolis and Kumara. Lang was first inside, followed by the Bolian ensign, then the two cadets.

Madden moved towards the airlock and paused at the intersection, where he saw Wesker and Ha-Jironith helping the runabout officers to their feet. “Are you two alright?” he asked. Both of the women nodded. He stepped into the runabout, and saw that Brolis and Kumara were hefting the Cardassian woman to her feet between them, whilst Red was checking a Cardassian scanner and Lang was in the midship compartment checking on Miller. “Take her to sickbay, and post a guard on her at all times,” he ordered and then moved to join Lang. “How is he?”

The cadet groaned just then and slowly opened his eyes. “He should be alright,” she said, sounding relieved.

“Mr. Miller, we’ll get you to sickbay to be checked out.”

“Yes sir. Sorry sir,” the cadet said weakly.

“For what Cadet?”

“She got the drop on me sir. I never saw it coming.”

“It happens to the best of us sometimes Cadet. Don’t worry about it,” he told the younger man. Just then, the others from the corridor stepped inside. He nodded at Wesker and his Efrosian team mate. “Chief, get Miller to sickbay.” The pair nodded, and helped Miller to his feet and out of the Mekong.

He and Lang stepped back into the cockpit, where Hoya and her shipmate were getting the runabout ready for the data transfer and the remote navigation. T9 Red approached, holding the device and handed it to the Security Chief. “It appears to be a highly modified scanner,” the Nasat stated, followed by a series of low clicks. “I suspect it is designed to infiltrate computer systems, seeing as how she managed to gain access to the runabout whilst still firing at us.”

“Secure it in the security office Cadet.”

“Aye sir,” she replied and scuttled off.

To the two officers in the cockpit Madden asked, “How long will you need?”

“Another three minutes at most Commander,” the Benzite pilot replied, continuing her work.

“Good. Once you’re done, get back to the cargo bay.” Madden glanced at the chronometer and felt his gut tighten. The engagement with Seskal had taken longer than he’d hoped. He looked at Lang. “We’d better get back to the bridge.” She nodded in agreement.

***

 

[Bry_Sinclair]

Twenty-Six Minutes Until Sinkhole Collapse

Main Engineering was buzzing with activity. Not only had all of the engineering instructors and cadets been called onto duty, but the engineers from the Mekong and Hawkeye had also asked to help out. With the rushed modifications they were making to the deflector dish, not to mention the repair work that was still being carried out, Taurik had accepted the offer of assistance and put the collection of officers and non-coms to work.

Though the repairs the Yosemite sustained when it had been pulled into the subspace sinkhole would require work at a starbase, temporary patches and reroutes would ensure that the ship didn’t suffer from any serious system delays. The cadets would be learning how to manage damage control and the makeshift repairs that it often called for in tough times. It was something he had become highly efficient at during the Dominion War, as had every engineer. They would have only a short time to finish what work they could, as he had already organised his crew as well as any others that could be spared into DC teams, which would be deployed to critical areas of the ship.

“Carey to Taurik,” the intercom chirped. The S.C.E. officer was overseeing the upgrades to the dish from deflector control.

“Go ahead Commander.”

“We’re just about done here. Another three minutes and that’ll be it.”

“Have you run a diagnostic on the modifications?”

“That’s when we need the three minutes for.”

Taurik nodded. He hadn’t expected Carey to miss out running checks on the deflector dish, but as Chief Engineer, Taurik had to double check. He held off contacting the bridge until he could report that they were ready to proceed, and he also suspected that Commander Madden would still be cleaning up after the security alert. Though Taurik didn’t know the details, any security situation in their current crisis would be a burden that they could all do without.

As he waited for the engineering team in deflector control to report in, he instructed level five diagnostics run on all systems, then contacted the repair crews, most of them were almost finished with their assigned tasks. He informed them that he wanted them at DC staging areas in five minutes, and to prepare for further instructions. He also checked in with his Lieutenant JG Ross, who was in the impulse control room. Ross was second-in-command of engineering, and was a very capable and adaptable young officer.

Three-point-four minutes after Carey had last checked in the intercom sounded again. “Taurik, this is deflector control. Diagnostics complete. It may not be pretty down here, but everything checks out to be within our specified tolerances. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

“Understood Commander Carey.”

“See you on the other side. Carey out.”

Taurik stepped over to his command console, and looked over the results of the diagnostics run in the engine room. Everything was within specifications, though some system ratings were lower than he would have liked, due to damage, there was nothing else that could be done.

“Engineering to bridge. Modifications to the deflector dish have been completed and all systems are within tolerances. We are ready to proceed.”

“Thank you Lieutenant. Good work. Standby to route power to the dish.”

“Aye sir. Taurik out.”

Taurik issued orders to the cadets monitoring the power transfer network to keep a close eye on the redistribution subroutines they had devised for the escape plan. Weapons and warp drive were being routed to the deflector dish in order to make the plan work, and they had to be ready to monitor and adjust the energy flow to keep it at a constant rate—any kind of surge or drop-off would mean failure.

He remembered Sam Lavelle, his former roommate and friend on the Enterprise, telling him once about maintaining a positive mental attitude in the face of adversary. Taurik had found the statement to be illogical, but now, he couldn’t help but wonder is such a disposition would help them in some unknown manner.

***