Hello again. 
Here is the third and final part of the ‘trilogy’ of episodes that has kicked off ST: Bounty’s second ‘season’. This story picks off where the last one ended. And this will also wrap up a plot thread that was kicked off as far back as a scene in the epilogue of the Bounty’s second-ever episode. Leaving only about 27,000 other random plot threads to wrap up.
From this point on, things get a bit weird. And a lot silly. I’m sorry. 
As usual, I hope you enjoy reading!
When we left off, the Bounty’s crew were in the nefarious clutches of the time-bending duo of Berlinghoff Rasmussen and Lester Brooks (the son of another TNG alumnus, Dr Paul Mannheim), and Jirel had finally patched things up with his estranged adoptive father back on Earth, only to be brought face to face with a mysteriously familiar stranger.
Star Trek: Bounty is a slightly off-kilter series set in the Trek universe that focuses on the adventures of the ragtag crew of a small civilian ship, who do what they can to get by in the Alpha Quadrant. They're not exactly Starfleet spec, but they try to keep on the right side of the moral line where they can.
The story so far:
=============================================================
Star Trek: Bounty
2.03
“Three Minutes to Three Minutes to Three Minutes to Midnight”
Prologue
A gentle breeze blew across the tall grass that sprouted all the way up the hillside, causing a few of the taller stalks to release their delicate, feather-like seeds into the air. The fluttering, ethereal seed pods ghosted along on the breeze, before gracefully pirouetting to the soft ground in unison.
Almost immediately, a tiny shrew-like creature scurried eagerly over to the feast that had fallen from the heavens, picking up one of the fallen pods and biting into the protein-rich meal.
As it ate, the minuscule creature’s proportionally large ears rotated around on the top of its head like a pair of satellite dishes, keeping a keen focus on even the most minute sound out in the grass. Any sign that danger was near.
The sudden booming noise that exploded out from way above its head caused it to scurry away in mortal fright, leaving its supper behind.
The cacophony was accompanied by a roar of displaced air, which rushed down and flattened the entire patch of grass, sending the rest of the seed pods flying to all corners of the hillside.
A few feet above the now-devastated patch of ground, above what had previously been an entirely tranquil scene, a swirling vortex opened up in a feverish burst of noise, colour and raw energy. The chaotic void fizzled and crackled with a ferocious intensity, sending many more small animals secreted in the grass racing for deeper cover.
Something dropped through the vortex, landing on the flattened grass with a heavy thump.
And then, just as soon as it had so angrily burst into the scene, the undulating eye of chaos blinked back out of existence, with a similarly discordant boom.
As the displaced seed pods slowly floated back to the ground across the hillside, the figure that the vortex had deposited so unceremoniously in medias res began to stir. He forced himself up off the ground with one arm and rubbed his head where he had landed with the other. His hair was ruffled by the sudden violence of the journey he had been on, and his face was streaked with a smear of blood.
Slowly, but surely, Jirel Vincent stood up on shaking legs and looked around.
The landscape stretching around him seemed oddly placid, save for the area of flattened grass left behind by his impromptu arrival. A gentle breeze picked up and cooled his troubled brow.
He looked up above him, where the swirling vortex had been, not entirely sure what exactly he was expecting to see. All that stared back at him was a clear, untouched sky.
It was gone. Just as expected.
His shoulders sagged imperceptibly, and he suppressed a shuddering sigh. Inside, a whole tumult of feelings were thrown up. He felt a yawning sense of loss opening up ahead of him like a chasm.
But he forced himself to push all of that aside. To compartmentalise it for another day. He’d have plenty of opportunities to think about all that. And now wasn’t the time for it, in any sense of the word.
He turned his attention back down the hillside, squinting his eyes to peer down into the valley below him. He could just about make out a small settlement in the distance. Again, just as he had been expecting.
Still feeling a little shaky, he began to pick his way down the hillside, in the vague direction of the settlement. He had no idea how long it was until nightfall, but he wanted to make good time regardless.
The good news was that he had been deposited far enough away from whatever passed for the planet’s population that nobody, aside from a few hungry shrews in the undergrowth, had witnessed his impromptu arrival. But the bad news was that he had been left with a long walk.
Halfway down the hillside, he came across a small spring of fresh water and took a moment to stop and clean his face as best he could. After wiping away the blood, he also gulped down several mouthfuls of the cool liquid to quench his sudden thirst. There was no tricorder to tell him if it was safe, but he reasoned that in his current situation, there was little risk compared to the reward.
As he took a moment next to the spring to compose himself, he allowed himself to drift back into his memories.
He thought about his friends and his family. He regretted how long it had taken him to reconnect with them, and how all too brief their time together had been. And he felt saddened about how far he now was away from them.
Again, in all meanings of the word.
Before the enormity of the journey he had just been on overwhelmed him, he forced himself to focus back on what he had been told to do. He stood back up, feeling tired but a little stronger for the fleeting moment of rest, and continued on down the hillside.
He walked on towards the settlement, knowing what he needed to do. He needed to find somewhere to stay and something to eat. He needed to figure out what exactly he was going to do with himself. He needed to change out of the stupid jumpsuit he was wearing.
And more importantly than all that, he needed to find out what year it was.
****************************
Federation Starbase 216
29 Years Later…
In the confines of his office at the top of the main dome of Starbase 216, Admiral Bryce Jenner watched on as the Bounty disappeared back into the sky. And with it, his adopted son disappeared as well.
Or at least, the version of his son onboard the Bounty did.
He sighed and took a sip from the glass of vintage scotch in his hand, closing his eyes and embracing the warm burning sensation as it travelled down his throat.
All around him, the room filled with Chopin’s Nocturne in C-sharp minor.
“I don’t like this,” he muttered.
“Understandable,” a voice came from behind him, “But it’s all necessary.”
The calming piano music did little to soothe Jenner’s mood. He opened his eyes and drained the rest of the glass.
“It’s necessary for me to spy on my own goddamn son?”
There was more frustration than anger in his question. After all, he’d just sent a former Starfleet officer off with his son, with a not so subtle personal request that she send him updates about their progress. And he had no idea why.
It had been a long time since the decorated admiral had been forced to carry out an order without knowing the full picture. And he didn’t like it.
“We’re just keeping an eye on them, like you said,” the voice offered, reminding him of how he had pitched the request to Natasha Kinsen, “All for the greater good.”
Jenner set his glass down on his desk, next to the padd containing the details of Commander Bari’s report on the former Lieutenant Kinsen’s debrief following her escape from the destruction of the USS Navajo. A report that no longer mattered. If it ever had.
“That’s all you’re giving me? After everything I’ve already done for you?”
The owner of the voice walked over to the sofa in the corner of the office and settled into the luxurious cushioned fabric.
“We’ve been over this,” he reminded him, “You know I can’t give you anything more. At least, not yet.”
Jenner balled his fists in frustration. Even the Chopin piece was doing little to calm his mood. He looked back at the window, at where the Bounty had risen up and disappeared from view moments ago.
“It’ll become clear one day,” the figure continued with an irritatingly calm tone of voice, “We just have to let it play out.”
Jenner grimaced again and reached for the bottle of scotch on his desk, pouring another generous helping of the 2328 vintage into his glass.
Over on the sofa, the figure leaned forwards, his face coming into the light.
Jenner still felt unnerved by the sight.
The sight of his own son’s face. But nearly thirty years older than the one he had just sent away from his starbase.
The one that had contacted him, just a few weeks ago, with a remarkable story to tell. One that, were it not for Jenner’s lifetime of remarkable stories in Starfleet, he might have otherwise dismissed as the ramblings of a senile old Trill.
“Still,” the aged Jirel on the sofa added with an eerily familiar grin, “At least I’ve finally gotten to start giving you orders.”
His father offered an unamused grunt back and took a stiff slug of his drink.
The older Jirel’s expression switched to a more serious one. He stood from the sofa and walked over to the antique drinks cabinet nestled by the wall on the other side of the office. Selecting a crystal glass of his own, he returned to the desk and poured his own measure of scotch. Jenner didn’t bother to stop him. Or offer to help.
“Look,” the aged Jirel sighed, “You know I can’t reveal too much to you all at once. We have to protect the timeline.”
The admiral resisted the urge to slam his glass down onto the table as he felt a surge of indignation flare up inside him.
“You’re presuming to lecture me on temporal morals?”
“It’s not my fault I learned so much from her,” Jirel replied, either oblivious or unconcerned at the irritation he was stoking up inside the other man, “That’s your fault for introducing us. Or your fault for…when you will introduce us.”
Jirel stifled a mirthless smile at the confusing phrasing. Jenner’s jaw clenched a little tighter on the other side of the table.
“Fine,” the uniformed officer grunted with reluctance, “So, what happens now?”
“Now,” Jirel replied as he walked back to the sofa, “We wait. And make sure everything keeps unfolding as it’s supposed to.”
He sat back down and paused for a second, staring off into the distance as he thought about everything that was going to happen to him. To his younger self. Everything he was going to have to endure and deal with, in order for him to get to become the person now sitting on Admiral Jenner’s sofa, drinking Admiral Jenner’s scotch.
There was so much he wanted to prevent. But he knew he couldn’t. He knew, deep down, that everything he was doing was necessary. He’d convinced himself of that a long time ago.
So he filed away those thoughts deep inside, and focused on what needed to be done.
As he returned from his momentary daydream, Jenner idly gestured to the glass of whisky in the other man’s hand.
“Guess you finally developed a taste for that stuff.”
Jirel mustered a sad smile as he gazed down at the deep amber liquid, and then threw back the entire glass in one go, embracing the bitter fire on his throat.
Everything he was doing was necessary. He was sure of that.
And one day soon, he would have to convince himself of that all over again.
This scene in Starbase 216 is part of, and a continuation of, the scene in Jenner's office at the end of Star Trek: Bounty - 102 - "Be All My Sins Forgiven"
Here is the third and final part of the ‘trilogy’ of episodes that has kicked off ST: Bounty’s second ‘season’. This story picks off where the last one ended. And this will also wrap up a plot thread that was kicked off as far back as a scene in the epilogue of the Bounty’s second-ever episode. Leaving only about 27,000 other random plot threads to wrap up.
From this point on, things get a bit weird. And a lot silly. I’m sorry. As usual, I hope you enjoy reading!
When we left off, the Bounty’s crew were in the nefarious clutches of the time-bending duo of Berlinghoff Rasmussen and Lester Brooks (the son of another TNG alumnus, Dr Paul Mannheim), and Jirel had finally patched things up with his estranged adoptive father back on Earth, only to be brought face to face with a mysteriously familiar stranger.
And now, the conclusion…
Star Trek: Bounty is a slightly off-kilter series set in the Trek universe that focuses on the adventures of the ragtag crew of a small civilian ship, who do what they can to get by in the Alpha Quadrant. They're not exactly Starfleet spec, but they try to keep on the right side of the moral line where they can.
The story so far:
Star Trek: Bounty - 101 - "Where Neither Moth nor Rust Destroys"
Star Trek: Bounty - 102 - "Be All My Sins Forgiven"
Star Trek: Bounty - 103 - "The Other Kind of Vulcan Hello"
Star Trek: Bounty - 104 - "It’s Not Easy Being Green"
Star Trek: Bounty - 105 - "Once Upon a Time in the Beta Quadrant"
Star Trek: Bounty - 106 - "He Feedeth Among the Lilies”
Star Trek: Bounty - 107 - “One Character in Search of an Exit”
Star Trek: Bounty - 108 - "A Klingon, a Vulcan and a Slave Girl Walk into a Bar"
Star Trek: Bounty - 109 - "But One Man of Her Crew Alive"
Star Trek: Bounty - 110 - "Take Arms Against a Sea of Tribbles"
Star Trek: Bounty - 111 - "Love, but With More Aggressive Overtones"
Star Trek: Bounty - 112 - "The Woman Who Cried, Among Other Things, Wolf"
Star Trek: Bounty - 113 - "Something Bad Happened Today"
Star Trek: Bounty - 102 - "Be All My Sins Forgiven"
Star Trek: Bounty - 103 - "The Other Kind of Vulcan Hello"
Star Trek: Bounty - 104 - "It’s Not Easy Being Green"
Star Trek: Bounty - 105 - "Once Upon a Time in the Beta Quadrant"
Star Trek: Bounty - 106 - "He Feedeth Among the Lilies”
Star Trek: Bounty - 107 - “One Character in Search of an Exit”
Star Trek: Bounty - 108 - "A Klingon, a Vulcan and a Slave Girl Walk into a Bar"
Star Trek: Bounty - 109 - "But One Man of Her Crew Alive"
Star Trek: Bounty - 110 - "Take Arms Against a Sea of Tribbles"
Star Trek: Bounty - 111 - "Love, but With More Aggressive Overtones"
Star Trek: Bounty - 112 - "The Woman Who Cried, Among Other Things, Wolf"
Star Trek: Bounty - 113 - "Something Bad Happened Today"
=============================================================
Star Trek: Bounty
2.03
“Three Minutes to Three Minutes to Three Minutes to Midnight”
Prologue
A gentle breeze blew across the tall grass that sprouted all the way up the hillside, causing a few of the taller stalks to release their delicate, feather-like seeds into the air. The fluttering, ethereal seed pods ghosted along on the breeze, before gracefully pirouetting to the soft ground in unison.
Almost immediately, a tiny shrew-like creature scurried eagerly over to the feast that had fallen from the heavens, picking up one of the fallen pods and biting into the protein-rich meal.
As it ate, the minuscule creature’s proportionally large ears rotated around on the top of its head like a pair of satellite dishes, keeping a keen focus on even the most minute sound out in the grass. Any sign that danger was near.
The sudden booming noise that exploded out from way above its head caused it to scurry away in mortal fright, leaving its supper behind.
The cacophony was accompanied by a roar of displaced air, which rushed down and flattened the entire patch of grass, sending the rest of the seed pods flying to all corners of the hillside.
A few feet above the now-devastated patch of ground, above what had previously been an entirely tranquil scene, a swirling vortex opened up in a feverish burst of noise, colour and raw energy. The chaotic void fizzled and crackled with a ferocious intensity, sending many more small animals secreted in the grass racing for deeper cover.
Something dropped through the vortex, landing on the flattened grass with a heavy thump.
And then, just as soon as it had so angrily burst into the scene, the undulating eye of chaos blinked back out of existence, with a similarly discordant boom.
As the displaced seed pods slowly floated back to the ground across the hillside, the figure that the vortex had deposited so unceremoniously in medias res began to stir. He forced himself up off the ground with one arm and rubbed his head where he had landed with the other. His hair was ruffled by the sudden violence of the journey he had been on, and his face was streaked with a smear of blood.
Slowly, but surely, Jirel Vincent stood up on shaking legs and looked around.
The landscape stretching around him seemed oddly placid, save for the area of flattened grass left behind by his impromptu arrival. A gentle breeze picked up and cooled his troubled brow.
He looked up above him, where the swirling vortex had been, not entirely sure what exactly he was expecting to see. All that stared back at him was a clear, untouched sky.
It was gone. Just as expected.
His shoulders sagged imperceptibly, and he suppressed a shuddering sigh. Inside, a whole tumult of feelings were thrown up. He felt a yawning sense of loss opening up ahead of him like a chasm.
But he forced himself to push all of that aside. To compartmentalise it for another day. He’d have plenty of opportunities to think about all that. And now wasn’t the time for it, in any sense of the word.
He turned his attention back down the hillside, squinting his eyes to peer down into the valley below him. He could just about make out a small settlement in the distance. Again, just as he had been expecting.
Still feeling a little shaky, he began to pick his way down the hillside, in the vague direction of the settlement. He had no idea how long it was until nightfall, but he wanted to make good time regardless.
The good news was that he had been deposited far enough away from whatever passed for the planet’s population that nobody, aside from a few hungry shrews in the undergrowth, had witnessed his impromptu arrival. But the bad news was that he had been left with a long walk.
Halfway down the hillside, he came across a small spring of fresh water and took a moment to stop and clean his face as best he could. After wiping away the blood, he also gulped down several mouthfuls of the cool liquid to quench his sudden thirst. There was no tricorder to tell him if it was safe, but he reasoned that in his current situation, there was little risk compared to the reward.
As he took a moment next to the spring to compose himself, he allowed himself to drift back into his memories.
He thought about his friends and his family. He regretted how long it had taken him to reconnect with them, and how all too brief their time together had been. And he felt saddened about how far he now was away from them.
Again, in all meanings of the word.
Before the enormity of the journey he had just been on overwhelmed him, he forced himself to focus back on what he had been told to do. He stood back up, feeling tired but a little stronger for the fleeting moment of rest, and continued on down the hillside.
He walked on towards the settlement, knowing what he needed to do. He needed to find somewhere to stay and something to eat. He needed to figure out what exactly he was going to do with himself. He needed to change out of the stupid jumpsuit he was wearing.
And more importantly than all that, he needed to find out what year it was.
****************************
Federation Starbase 216
29 Years Later…
In the confines of his office at the top of the main dome of Starbase 216, Admiral Bryce Jenner watched on as the Bounty disappeared back into the sky. And with it, his adopted son disappeared as well.
Or at least, the version of his son onboard the Bounty did.
He sighed and took a sip from the glass of vintage scotch in his hand, closing his eyes and embracing the warm burning sensation as it travelled down his throat.
All around him, the room filled with Chopin’s Nocturne in C-sharp minor.
“I don’t like this,” he muttered.
“Understandable,” a voice came from behind him, “But it’s all necessary.”
The calming piano music did little to soothe Jenner’s mood. He opened his eyes and drained the rest of the glass.
“It’s necessary for me to spy on my own goddamn son?”
There was more frustration than anger in his question. After all, he’d just sent a former Starfleet officer off with his son, with a not so subtle personal request that she send him updates about their progress. And he had no idea why.
It had been a long time since the decorated admiral had been forced to carry out an order without knowing the full picture. And he didn’t like it.
“We’re just keeping an eye on them, like you said,” the voice offered, reminding him of how he had pitched the request to Natasha Kinsen, “All for the greater good.”
Jenner set his glass down on his desk, next to the padd containing the details of Commander Bari’s report on the former Lieutenant Kinsen’s debrief following her escape from the destruction of the USS Navajo. A report that no longer mattered. If it ever had.
“That’s all you’re giving me? After everything I’ve already done for you?”
The owner of the voice walked over to the sofa in the corner of the office and settled into the luxurious cushioned fabric.
“We’ve been over this,” he reminded him, “You know I can’t give you anything more. At least, not yet.”
Jenner balled his fists in frustration. Even the Chopin piece was doing little to calm his mood. He looked back at the window, at where the Bounty had risen up and disappeared from view moments ago.
“It’ll become clear one day,” the figure continued with an irritatingly calm tone of voice, “We just have to let it play out.”
Jenner grimaced again and reached for the bottle of scotch on his desk, pouring another generous helping of the 2328 vintage into his glass.
Over on the sofa, the figure leaned forwards, his face coming into the light.
Jenner still felt unnerved by the sight.
The sight of his own son’s face. But nearly thirty years older than the one he had just sent away from his starbase.
The one that had contacted him, just a few weeks ago, with a remarkable story to tell. One that, were it not for Jenner’s lifetime of remarkable stories in Starfleet, he might have otherwise dismissed as the ramblings of a senile old Trill.
“Still,” the aged Jirel on the sofa added with an eerily familiar grin, “At least I’ve finally gotten to start giving you orders.”
His father offered an unamused grunt back and took a stiff slug of his drink.
The older Jirel’s expression switched to a more serious one. He stood from the sofa and walked over to the antique drinks cabinet nestled by the wall on the other side of the office. Selecting a crystal glass of his own, he returned to the desk and poured his own measure of scotch. Jenner didn’t bother to stop him. Or offer to help.
“Look,” the aged Jirel sighed, “You know I can’t reveal too much to you all at once. We have to protect the timeline.”
The admiral resisted the urge to slam his glass down onto the table as he felt a surge of indignation flare up inside him.
“You’re presuming to lecture me on temporal morals?”
“It’s not my fault I learned so much from her,” Jirel replied, either oblivious or unconcerned at the irritation he was stoking up inside the other man, “That’s your fault for introducing us. Or your fault for…when you will introduce us.”
Jirel stifled a mirthless smile at the confusing phrasing. Jenner’s jaw clenched a little tighter on the other side of the table.
“Fine,” the uniformed officer grunted with reluctance, “So, what happens now?”
“Now,” Jirel replied as he walked back to the sofa, “We wait. And make sure everything keeps unfolding as it’s supposed to.”
He sat back down and paused for a second, staring off into the distance as he thought about everything that was going to happen to him. To his younger self. Everything he was going to have to endure and deal with, in order for him to get to become the person now sitting on Admiral Jenner’s sofa, drinking Admiral Jenner’s scotch.
There was so much he wanted to prevent. But he knew he couldn’t. He knew, deep down, that everything he was doing was necessary. He’d convinced himself of that a long time ago.
So he filed away those thoughts deep inside, and focused on what needed to be done.
As he returned from his momentary daydream, Jenner idly gestured to the glass of whisky in the other man’s hand.
“Guess you finally developed a taste for that stuff.”
Jirel mustered a sad smile as he gazed down at the deep amber liquid, and then threw back the entire glass in one go, embracing the bitter fire on his throat.
Everything he was doing was necessary. He was sure of that.
And one day soon, he would have to convince himself of that all over again.
This scene in Starbase 216 is part of, and a continuation of, the scene in Jenner's office at the end of Star Trek: Bounty - 102 - "Be All My Sins Forgiven"
