Star Trek: Tales Of The Wanderer - Episode 3: Shadow Of The Past

[Callum MacLeod]

April 1, 2376
FCS Wanderer
Molari Badlands, Sector 04430

The crimson flames of the Molari Badlands swirled outside the viewport, painting the bridge of the Wanderer in hues that mirrored the internal turmoil of its captain. G’roth Cortez, a man forged in the crucible of two worlds, stared out at the cosmic canvas. His Klingon brow was furrowed, his human jaw tight. The hum of the ship’s engines, usually a reassuring lullaby, felt like a discordant reminder of the precarious path he’d chosen.

He was a legacy, a living bridge between the brashness of humanity and the stoic honor of the Klingon Empire. And he’d inherited that legacy in the form of the Wanderer, a Federation Antares class freighter that had passed through generations of his family. It was old, scarred, and perpetually on the verge of falling apart, but it was his. Unlike the worlds of his mother’s realm, the Wanderer was home.

“G’roth,” Lerah’s voice, soft and melodic, pulled him from his reverie. Her antennae twitched with concern as she approached, her Andorian blue skin a stark contrast to the red-tinged light. “Navigation is clear. We’re approaching the rendezvous point.”

G'roth nodded, his gaze shifting from the nebulae to the navigation console. Lerah was more than just his pilot; she was his anchor, the quiet stability in his turbulent life.

"Anything on sensors, Elian?"

"Just the usual space junk and ion trails, G'roth. Nothing to worry about." The newest addition to their crew said from the operations station.

The rendezvous point was a desolate patch of space near the plasma storms, a place where legitimate traders mingled with those operating on the fringes of the Federation and Klingon law. Their cargo, a consignment of Dilithium crystals procured from a mining colony, was a volatile and valuable commodity.

“Torvin,” G’roth called after opening a comm-link to the engineering compartment, his voice laced with the rough edge of his Klingon heritage. "Are those crystals secure?"

A muffled groan came over the comm system, followed by a series of clanking sounds.

“His holiness is seeing to that now.” The gruff Chelon said referring to Vedek Kaal Edon, who had joined the crew a year ago to spread the word of the prophets ‘to thems that need it told’.

As the Wanderer waited just beyond the edge of the Molari Badlands a sleek shape dropped out of warp, the unmistakable silhouette of a Federation Border Service starship, USS Bluefin. G’roth’s stomach clenched. This was unexpected, and in his line of work, unexpected usually meant trouble.

Lerah’s antennae shot straight up, her pupils dilating in alarm as Elian announced, “Incoming hail, Captain.”

G’roth took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. “Put it through.”

The viewscreen flickered to life, revealing the face of Captain Joseph Akinola. The human’s dark features were sharp and serious, his eyes unyielding as he regarded them from the bridge of the USS Bluefin.

“Wanderer, this is Captain Joseph Akinola of the Federation Border Service cutter Bluefin. You are requested to hold your current position for a routine inspection.” His tone was firm, yet not unfriendly.

G’roth’s hand tightened around the armrest of his chair. “Understood, Captain. Standing by to receive your inspection team”

On the viewscreen Akinola turned to Strauss and said, “Commander, Make Chief Brin and Lieutenant Bane part of your inspection team.”

Strauss nodded and responded, “Aye, Captain.”

Moments later the forms of the inspection team materialized on the Wanderer’s bridge. Commander Strauss, Chief Brin, and Lieutenant Bane, a diverse trio representing the Federation’s multi-species unity. G’roth’s heart hammered in his chest as they approached, trying to keep his breathing steady. The Klingon cloaking device was hidden well, but not beyond the capabilities of a thorough scan. It was a gamble, a card he didn’t want to reveal unless absolutely necessary.

Lerah’s gaze darted nervously from the screen to G’roth, her antennae swiveling as she sensed the tension.The inspection was meticulous and painfully thorough. Chief Brin, the muscular red-skinned Orion that had led the last inspection team from the Bluefin had his scanning device swept over the panels in engineering that concealed where the cloaking device lay hidden.

Torvin’s heart pounded in his chest, his scales shifting shades of blue and green. He had been tasked with maintaining the illusion that the device didn’t exist. He knew that if the Starfleet discovered it, the consequences for the Wanderer and her crew would be dire.

“This console is giving me some strange readings,” Brin said, frowning as he studied the tricorder in his hand.

G’roth felt his stomach drop. The cloaking device. He’d hoped it was well enough concealed, but apparently not from the trained eyes of a seasoned engineer. Lerah’s antennae quivered, and he knew she felt the same tension coiling around them.

“What seems to be the problem, Chief?” G’roth asked, keeping his voice level despite the adrenaline spiking in his veins.

Brin scrutinized the console, his frown deepening. “I’m not sure. It’s… almost as if there’s an energy fluctuation here, but it’s not showing up on your readouts.”

“The Wanderer’s a glitchy old gal.” Torvin said, his voice thick with the Chelonian accent that had become as familiar as the hum of the ship’s engines. “Could be anything. We’ve had some issues with the warp core lately, might be throwing off some interference.”

G’roth nodded in agreement, his eyes locked with Brin’s. “We’ll have it checked out. You know how these old freighters can be.”

Brin grunted, not fully convinced but willing to let it go for the moment.

“Make sure you do,” he said, his gaze lingering before moving on to the next console as he remember Akinola’s instructions of not to look too hard in the transporter room.

The inspection team moved through the ship methodically, scrutinizing every inch of the Wanderer. G’roth trailed them, his eyes sharp, watching for any sign that they had found something amiss.

“Everything seems in order here,” Strauss said, her gaze flicking over the manifest that G’roth had provided once they had returned to the bridge.

The inspection team had finished their search, their eyes having lingered a little too long on the engineering bay where the Klingon cloaking device lay hidden. G’roth had felt the weight of their scrutiny, the silent accusation that they knew something was amiss. He had held his breath, waiting for the inevitable discovery, but it hadn’t come.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Captain Cortez,” Commander Strauss said, her voice cool and professional. “You’re clear to proceed with your journey.”

G’roth nodded, trying to hide the tremble in his jaw. The inspection had been thorough, and the tension in the air was palpable, like a tightly wound spring ready to snap. As the team dematerialized back to their ship, Lerah let out a sigh of relief that seemed to echo through the Wanderer’s corridors.

“Good job, Torvin,” G’roth said into the comm. “Your quick thinking saved us.”

“Just doing what needs to be done,” came the Chelon’s reply, “Now lets get this dilithum off the ship and the money onboard. I don’t like waiting on the edge of storms longer than I need to. The longer we stay the greater the chance we run into those Neo-Maquis fanatics.”

As the crew of the Wanderer returned to their stations and the Bluefin jumped to warp a flash of light in the far end of cargobay four appeared and quickly coalesced into the form of the last person anyone on either the Wanderer or Bluefin would expect, the Bluefin’s former first officer – the very much alive Commander Dale McBride.

 

[Callum MacLeod]

On the bridge of the Wanderer, G’roth’s eyes narrowed as he watched the Bluefin vanish into the stars. Turning to the operations station he asked, “Elian, where are the frakking Ferengi?”

Elian’ features remained calm as he checked the sensors again. “No sign of them, Captain. They must have changed their approach vector.”

“What did I tell you about calling me Captain?” G’roth asked.

“Don’t.”

“Exactly.” G’roth said standing up, “I’m going to stretch my legs. Let me know when you pick them up.”

G’roth left the bridge, the weight of the inspection still heavy on his shoulders. The corridors of the Wanderer felt eerily empty, a stark reminder of their precarious position. The ship had become a second skin to him over the years, every groan and whine a familiar tune that sang of home. He walked towards the cargo bay, the gravity of the situation weighing down his steps.

Upon reaching the bay, he found McBride standing dumbfounded amidst the containers of Dilithium crystals. McBride looked at G’roth, his expression one of shock and confusion.

“Who the frak are you and how did you get on my ship?” G’roth demanded.

McBride took a step back, “Commander Dale McBride. This is going to sound weird, but I don’t know how I got here. Hell, I don’t even know where here is.”

G’roth’s eyes narrowed, his hand hovering over his disruptor. “You’re not making any sense.”

“I know it sounds crazy,” McBride said, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture, “but I swear to you, the last thing I remember is walking through Star Station Echo’s docking tube on the Bluefin to report back in from shore leave.”

G’roth studied McBride carefully, his mind racing with questions and scenarios. Could this be some sort of ploy by the Federation to plant an undercover operative on board? Or was it something else entirely?

“You’re not on the Bluefin anymore, Commander,” he said slowly. “You’re on the FCS Wanderer. And we’re no where near Star Station Echo and neither is the Bluefin. We’re holding position at the edge of the Molari Badlands. The Bluefin was here doing an inspection less than an hour ago.”

“That’s impossible…” McBride said trailing off.

“I can show you the sensor data.” G’roth said.

“I was just on the Bluefin and we were no where near the Molari Badlands.” McBride said, “What’s the date?”

“April first.” G’roth replied.

“What year?” McBride prompted.

“The same one it was yesterday… 2376.” G’roth said leerily.

“We’ll, time travel’s out.” McBride said, “I swear to you I’m Commader Dale McBride, First officer of the Bluefin. I was just onboard her and we were no where near the Molari Badlands.”

“Torvin,” G’roth said into his wrist-comm, “Get the others and meet me on the bridge.”

McBride followed G’roth back to the command center, looking around in bewilderment. The bridge of the Wanderer was a stark contrast to a Starfleet bridge, even one as old as the bridge of the Bluefin, with its worn panels and mismatched technology that spoke of decades of patchwork repairs. Lerah, Kaal, K’tara, Torvin and Elian exchanged puzzled glances as they took in the newcomer’s Starfleet uniform stood out like a beacon.

“Everyone, this is Commander McBride. Apparently, he’s lost his way and ended up with us. He says he’s from the Bluefin.” G’roth announced, his tone a mix of skepticism and urgency.

The crew stared at the newcomer, their expressions a blend of curiosity and wariness. K’tara, the burly Tellarite tactical officer, stepped forward. “How do we know he’s not a plant, G’roth?”

G’roth knew her skepticism was justified, but there was something about McBride’s disorientation that seemed to genuine to be faked.

“We don’t, K’tara,” he admitted. “But if he is, he’s not playing by any rulebook we know. We need to tread carefully here. For now, let’s assume he’s telling the truth and we’re dealing with something…unusual.”

Lerah’s antennae twitched, her concern palpable. “What do we do with him?”

G’roth considered the situation, his gaze drifting to the viewscreen and the plasma storms churning in the distance. “We keep him on board for now, at least until we make port or figure out how he got here.”

“And then what?” Lerah’s voice was tinged with worry.

“We’ll see.”

G’roth’s response to Lerah’s question was as much a command as it was an acknowledgment of the situation’s gravity.

“Kaal, please escort Commander McBride to the crew quarters. We’ll sort this out soon enough.” G’roth ordered.

Kaal nodded, his expression a mix of curiosity and wariness.

“This way, Commander.” He gestured to McBride, who followed him out of the bridge, still looking dazed.

 

[Callum MacLeod]

Once the doors had closed behind them, G’roth turned to Elian. “You’ve traveled the quadrant more than any of us. Have you ever heard of anyone popping up out of thin air like that?”

“It’s not unheard of,” Elian spoke up, her eyes on the plasma storms beyond the viewport.

G’roth nodded slowly. “We can’t let this throw us off track. We still have cargo to deliver and a business to run, no matter what anomalies the universe throws our way. We’ll off load the cargo then we’ll to looking for the Bluefin and let them short this out.”

"Elian, scan for the Ferengi." G'roth said as he drummed on the armrest of his seat.

Elian's fingers danced over the console his eyes darting back and forth as he worked, "They're not on any of the standard approach vectors."

The silence on the bridge was tense, the only sounds the whirring of the ship's systems and the occasional crackle of static from the open comm channel. The plasma storms grew closer, their fiery tendrils reaching out into the void like a cosmic octopus, searching for prey.

Elian’s eyes narrowed as he studied the readouts. "I've got them, Captain. They're coming in from the other side of the storm, but they're moving fast."

G’roth’s eyes snapped to the screen, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "They're cutting it close."

The Ferengi Marauder class ship appeared on the sensors, racing through the treacherous storm. The Wanderer’s hull groaned in protest as the storm’s edge buffeted the ship, the fiery tendrils of plasma lashing out like the tentacles of an angry beast.

“Hold our position, Lerah,” G’roth said, his voice calm despite the chaos. “It looks like they're coming to us."

Lerah’s antennae fluttered, her eyes never leaving the approaching ship. “Holding position near the flames of hell.”

The Marauder grew larger on the viewscreen, its pitted hull a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked in the cosmos. G’roth watched the tempest rage around the vessel, its agile movements a dance with the very fabric of space.

As the Ferengi ship pulled alongside, G’roth’s comm beeped to life. A face filled the screen, their features etched with a mix of greed and wariness.

“Greetings, Wanderer. I am DaiMon Grish, and I’ve come to collect your precious cargo. I trust everything is in order?”

G’roth nodded, his eyes never leaving the screen. “DaiMon Grish, the goods are as promised. We expect prompt payment as agreed upon.”

The Ferengi’s leer widened. “Ah, Captain Cortez, always the eager businessman. Your reputation precedes you. Now, let’s not keep the plasma storm waiting for us, shall we?”

The docking procedures went smoothly despite the raging tempest outside. The Wanderer’s crew, minus Lerah who remained at the helm, watched as Grish handed over the case of gold pressed latnium bars to G'roth at the airlock before the containers of dilithium were transported to the marauder's cargobay. It was a peaceful exchange, a dance of commerce in the eye of the cosmic storm.

As the final container disappeared into the Marauder’s hold, G’roth felt a weight lift from his shoulders. The deal had gone without a hitch, and the storm had not claimed them. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach with McBride’s unexpected arrival. Once the transport was complete and the marauder had undocked and left the storm behind, he turned to his crew.

“Elian, I want you on the sensors, full scans for the Bluefin. We need to get to the bottom of this mess before it boils over. Kaal, check on McBride. Make sure he’s comfortable, but keep an eye on him. He’s a wildcard we can’t afford to ignore.” G’roth’s orders were swift and clear, his voice echoing through the corridor.

The crew dispersed, returning to their stations, the tension palpable as the reality of the situation sank in. G’roth’s mind raced, juggling the pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. He strode back to the bridge, his boots thumping against the metal floor, the echoes a reminder of the urgency of the situation.

As G'roth strode onto the bridge Elian’s gaze remained glued to the sensors as he spoke up, “I’ve got the Bluefin, G’roth. They’re moving away from the storm.”

“Hail them, Elian,” G’roth said, his hand clenching into a fist.

Elian nodded, her fingers dancing over the console. A moment later, she looked up at him, her gaze filled with frustration. “I’m getting interference across all subspace frequencies, G’roth. It’s like something’s jamming our signal.”

G’roth’s eyes narrowed, a low growl rumbling in his throat. “Keep trying,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

As the seconds ticked by, the interference grew stronger, turning the once clear communication channels into a cacophony of static. The crew exchanged nervous glances, the silence of their mission suddenly thick with the unspoken question of who could be behind the disruption.

“Dammit, it’s no good!” Elian exclaimed, slamming her hand down on the console.

“Fine!” G’roth snarled, the interference on the comms grating on his last nerve. “Lerah, plot an intercept course and take us to warp. We’re going to find the Bluefin and let them deal with McBride."

Lerah nodded, her antennae drooping slightly with the stress of the situation. Her nimble Andorian fingers flew over the helm controls, setting a course through the treacherous plasma storms that surrounded them. The Wanderer’s engines whined in protest, the ship straining as it was pushed to its limits.

The crimson light from the storms cast an eerie glow over the bridge, the flickering shadows playing across the crew’s faces as they worked in silent determination. G’roth’s eyes remained fixed on the viewscreen, willing the Bluefin to appear despite the interference that clouded their communications.

Elian’s frustration grew with each failed attempt to hail the border service ship. “The interference is like nothing I’ve ever encountered before, G’roth. It’s as if the very fabric of space is fighting us!”

G’roth’s jaw clenched as he paced the bridge, his boots striking the metal floor with a rhythmic thud. The plasma storms raged around them, a fiery barrier that seemed to be closing in.

“Keep trying, Elian. We can’t let this go unexplained!”

Lerah’s eyes darted to her captain before returning to her console, her antennae quivering slightly. “Intercept course laid in, G’roth. Engaging warp drive in three...two...one...”

The Wanderer lurched forward, the stars outside stretching into streaks of light as they hurtled towards the elusive USS Bluefin.

"Torvin, what's your status?" G’roth called through the comm-system, his voice tight with anticipation.

Torvin’s reply was swift, "Ready for whatever comes our way, G’roth. The cloaking device is on standby."

"Make sure it stays that way." G'roth said, "Given what's happened, we need to be ready for anything."

 

[Callum MacLeod]

April 1, 2376
USS Bluefin
Interstellar Space, Sector 04430

On the Bluefin Lieutenant Commander T'Ser’s eyes snapped to the sensor readings. "Incoming vessel, Captain. It’s the Wanderer, and they're on a pursuit course!"

Captain Akinola’s eyes narrowed as she leaned forward in her chair. "Hail them, Lieutenant."

T'Ser worked her console with swift precision, but her expression grew troubled. "I'm trying, Captain, but the interference is too strong. It's like nothing I've encountered before."

Akinola's grip tightened on the armrests. "Keep trying. We need to know their intentions."

But the only response was a cacophony of static, punctuated by brief, tantalizing glimpses of the Wanderer's signal, only to be swallowed up again by the tempest of interference.

"Captain, I recommend we drop out of warp and attempt to engage on an intercept course," Commander Inga Strauss, the Bluefin's first officer called out, her gaze locked on her console.

"Good idea, XO." Akinola said, "Make it so, Mister Bane."

The helmsman nodded, his fingers dancing over the controls. The starship lurched as it dropped out of warp, the stars around them snapping back into their proper places as the ship's systems groaned with the effort. The Bluefin shuddered as it changed course, its powerful engines roaring in protest before stabilizing into a steady rhythm before jumping back to warp, this time on an intercept course for the Wanderer.

"ETA to intercept is an hour, Captain," Bane called out, his gaze fixed on the approaching blip on the viewscreen.

 

[Callum MacLeod]

April 1, 2376
FCS Wanderer
Interstellar Space, Sector 04430

“Elian, hail the Bluefin again.” G'roth ordered as Kaal and McBride walked onto the bridge.

Elian nodded, hi fingers dancing over the console. The interference was still strong, but she managed to get through. "We have an audio channel, Captain."

"This is Captain Cortez of the FCS Wanderer," G'roth began, his voice firm. "We need to speak with Captain Akinola immediately."

After a brief pause, Captain Akinola’s voice crackled through the speakers, "This is Captain Akinola."

G’roth took a deep breath before speaking. "We've had an...unexpected development onboard, Captain." He glanced at McBride who was now standing next to Kaal, his eyes wide and alert. "Commander McBride from your ship is here with us."

"Impossible," Akinola replied, her voice incredulous. "McBride is dead."

"I assure you, he is very much alive," G’roth said, gesturing to McBride. "Would you like to speak with him?"

McBride stepped forward, his voice shaky but determined. "Captain Akinola, it's Dale McBride. I don't know how this happened, but I'm here. I'm not dead."

The line went silent for a moment, the only sound the faint hiss of static. G’roth watched the bridge crew exchange bewildered glances.

Akinola’s voice was a mix of shock and disbelief when it finally came through, "Dale? Is that really you?"

"It's me, Captain," McBride said, his voice tight. "I'm not sure how or why I'm here, but it's definitely me and I’m not dead."

The silence on the other end of the line was heavy. G’roth could almost feel the disbelief radiating through the speakers.

"Captain Cortez, We need to rendezvous immediately." Akinola finally said, his voice low.

G’roth nodded to Elian who began the calculations for a rendezvous point. "We're on it," he said, his eyes never leaving the viewscreen.

 

[Callum MacLeod]

As the ships approached each other, the tension grew thick enough to cut with a bat’leth. The Wanderer’s crew remained at their stations, each one aware of the gravity of the situation. While the Bluefin's crew, expescally T'Ser, were in a state of disbelief and shock.

The docking process was as smooth as it could be under the circumstances, and once the airlocks were secured, G’roth led McBride and Kaal through the corridors of the Wanderer to the starboard airlock. Once on the Bluefin they were greeted a contingent of security officers led by Solly Brin and a very puzzled Captain Akinola and Commander Strauss.

"Welcome aboard, Captain Cortez," Akinola said, her eyes flicking to McBride, who looked equally puzzled.

"Thank you, Captain," G’roth replied, his gaze assessing the security team that had formed around them. Gesturing to Kaal he said, "This is Vedek Kaal Edon."

“He’s actually a Vedek?” Strauss asked.

“Yea.” G’roth said to the petite blonde Commander, “It’s a long story.”

"I think we should move this little shindig to the wardroom." Akinola replied.

The group of them made their way through the corridors of the USS Bluefin, the stark contrast to the Wanderer's gritty interior not lost on G’roth. As they entered the wardroom Captain Akinola waved them down, gesturing for everyone to take a seat around the table that dominated the space.

McBride sat stiffly, his eyes scanning the room as if looking for something or someone in particular.

Captain Akinola leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Start from the beginning, Commander."

McBride took a deep breath and recounted his disorientation upon appearing in the Wanderer’s cargo bay. His words hung in the air, each one a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit into the picture G’roth and the others were trying to piece together.

T'Ser’s eyes widened as she listened, and she finally spoke up, her voice shaking. "Dale, I... I don't understand."

"Neither do I, T'Ser," McBride said, his gaze searching hers. Looking a her her realized what looked different about her,"Where's your engagement ring?"

"Dale. I didn't... Then you...you died." T'Ser said.

"What are you talking about, T'Ser?" Dale asked.

"On the Salturias... When you got stabbed... Doctor Baxter wasn't able to save you." T'Ser said choking up.

"What do you mean? I didn’t get… my armor deflected the kid's blade." McBride said.

"No, Dale. It didn't." T'Ser said realizing this wasn't HER Dale McBride, "Not in this reality. In this reality you took off your helmet."

 

[Callum MacLeod]

Akinola's voice was firm but compassionate. "We're dealing with parallel realities, Dale. We need to figure out how you got here."

G’roth leaned back in his seat saying, “Seriously?!”

"It seems so," Strauss said, her voice tight with excitement and fear. "But the real question is, how do we get him back?"

The room fell silent as the implications of her words sank in. The air was thick with tension and the weight of the unknown. G’roth knew that they couldn’t keep McBride with them indefinitely; it was too risky, not just for their mission, but for the very fabric of space-time itself.

“We need to find the cause of this displacement,” Captain Akinola said, his eyes scanning the group intently, “Otherwise we may never figure out how to get Dale back home to HIS reality and his T’Ser.”

The room was quiet as the crew of the Wanderer and the Bluefin exchanged glances, the gravity of the situation sinking in. G’roth leaned forward, his gaze sharp. “We were near the Molari Badlands when he appeared in one of our cargo pods. Could that have something to do with all of this.”

T’Ser nodded slowly, her mind racing through the data she’d collected over the years about the anomalies in that region of space. “It’s possible, Captain. The Badlands are known for their unpredictable and often dangerous spatial phenomena.”

Looking at G’roth across the table Akinola said, “What were you carrying in that cargo pod? It could be important.”

G’roth’s expression was tight as he replied, “Dilithium that we sold to the Ferengi. A couple tons of Regrean wheat husks. And a case of Prototaxites stellaviatori mycelium spores.”

Akinola’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of the dilithium. “Interesting. Could the dilithium have something to do with it?”

“Not by itself, but in concert with the Prototaxites stellaviatori mycelium spores and some sort of energy discharge its possible. T’Ser said, “Prototaxites stellaviatori’s mycelium spores are known to be four-dimensional liked dilithium’s crystalline matrix."

“Could they have interacted somehow?” Strauss asked, her brow furrowed in thought.

“It’s not outside the realm of possibility,” T’Ser admitted. “The spores can create subspace distortions under the right conditions. Its possible that they did and created some sort of subspace transference effect that brought Commander McBride here from his reality.”

“But why was he brought to our reality and the Wanderer?” Strauss asked.

“Most likely random chance.” T’Ser said.

Akinola nodded thoughtfully. “Captain Cortez, We’ll need to analyze the cargo pod and its contents. Along with your sensor logs from just before the Commander appeared. Maybe there’s something there that can give us more information.”

G’roth agreed, “Kaal, will show your team cargo pod eight. That’s the one that McBride appeared in. When I get back to the Wanderer I’ll have our sensor logs sent over.”

Kaal nodded, understanding the urgency of the situation. As the group stood to leave, Captain Akinola spoke up, “G’roth, I think it’s best if Commander McBride stays here, on the Bluefin, until we know more.“

G’roth hesitated, his instinct to keep an eye on the enigma that was McBride, but he knew that Akinola was right.

“Agreed, Captain. He’ll be your responsibility until we have answers.” He said, his gaze flicking to McBride, whose expression was a mix of confusion and resolve.

“Mister McBride… Dale. As I’m sure you know the Bluefin doesn’t have much in the way of amenities.” Akinola said.

“Understood, Captain. I’ll stay in here until you can arrange quarters for me.” McBride said knowing what Akinola was hinting at, “After all it wouldn’t do to confuse your crew by having me wandering around.”

“I’m glad you understand. But to be clear you ARE NOT a prisoner.” Akinola said. Looking at the rest of the group he said, “We’ve got work to do. Lets get to it.”

 

[Callum MacLeod]

The group dispersed, leaving the wardroom feeling empty and cold. G’roth and Kaal made their way back to the Wanderer with the Bluefin’s team in tow. As they approached cargo pod eight, the air was charged with anticipation. Kaal keyed in the access code, and the pod hissed open, revealing the space where McBride had been found. The Starfleet officers walked in and began scanning every inch of the cargo pod with their tricorders.

“What are we looking for, Commander?” One of the officers asked T’Ser, his eyes flicking from his device to the pod.

T’Ser paused, her gaze scanning the pod. “Anything out of the ordinary, anything that could have caused or been involved in or a sign of a subspace disturbance.”

The officers nodded, focusing on their tasks as they meticulously combed through the pod. Kaal stood by the pod’s entrance, his arms folded over his chest, his gaze sweeping the space with the sharpness of a hawk eyeing its prey.

“Commander!” one of the non-comm members of the Bluefin’s team called out moments later from precise spot where McBride had appeared, “I’ve got something!”

“What is it, crewman?” T’Ser asked hurrying over.

The young man held up his tricorder, the screen displaying a series of unidentifiable symbols and readings that scrolled by too fast to read. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before, ma’am. There’s some sort of residual energy pattern here that doesn’t match anything in our databases.”

T’Ser took the device and studied the readings, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Could be a sign of the subspace disturbance we’re looking for.” She handed the tricorder back to the crewman. “Keep scanning, and log everything. We need to understand what happened here.”

 

[Callum MacLeod]

On the Wanderer’s bridge, Elian relayed the sensor logs to the Bluefin while G’roth leaned against the captain’s chair, his gaze distant, lost in thought. The implications of what they had just learned were staggering. To G’roth parallel realities, subspace displacement – it was the stuff of science fiction holonovels, not real life.

“Sensor logs transmitted to the Bluefin, G’roth,” Elian announced, breaking the silence.

He nodded curtly, his eyes snapping back to the present. “Good work, Elian. Now, let’s review the logs ourselves. Maybe there’s something we can catch that they might miss.”

Elian pulled up the data on her console, the screens flickering with the information from the Wanderer’s sensors. The readings were a jumble of normal space traffic, but he knew where to look for anomalies. His eyes narrowed as he spotted something unusual, a brief spike in subspace energy.

“G’roth, look at this,” he called out, pointing to the console. “It’s right before McBride showed up.”

G’roth strode over, his boots echoing in the quiet bridge. Elian zoomed in on the spike, the data showing a brief but significant disruption in the subspace field.

“It’s definitely not normal.” Elian murmured, his mind racing.

“No, it’s not,” G’roth agreed, his gaze still locked on the screen. “But it’s not enough to prove anything conclusively.”

“True,” Elian nodded, “But it’s a start.”

G’roth rubbed his chin, the bristle of his beard rasping against his calloused skin. “We need to find that cause, Elian. It’s not just about McBride anymore.”

“I’ll keep looking for patterns, G’roth. Something has to give.”

The hours ticked by as the two ships remained docked, the tension palpable despite the calm professionalism of the crews. The scientists from both vessels collaborated, sharing their findings and theories about the subspace disturbance and McBride’s displacement. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the faint ozone smell of overworked technology.

 

[Callum MacLeod]

In the Bluefin’s wardroom McBride sat across the table from Akinola having just finished discussing the events leading up to his appearance on the Wanderer.

“What’s bothering you, Commander?” Akinola asked, “I knew my Dale McBride well enough to tell when something was bothering him and my gut tells me you are a lot like him.”

After a pause McBride said, “’I’m worried about T’Ser and how she’s handling all of this. I could tell that she took my counterpart’s death hard.”

Akinola nodded solemnly, “We all did. Her especially. He was a good man and a good officer. But we have to focus on the mission at hand and getting you back to your own reality… I will admit though that in a way it is comforting to know that our Dale’s death was a fluke and not a universal constant. Its good to know that there are realities out there where he…you.. are alive and well.”

***​

On the Wanderer’s bridge, Lerah spoke up, her antennae quivering with excitement. “G’roth, I’ve found something. There’s an energy signature in the Molari Badlands that matches the spike in our logs.”

G’roth’s eyes snapped to hers. “Where is it?”

“Approximately three light minutes from where we were when McBride appeared. It’s faint, but it’s definitely there.”

Turning to Elian at the operations station G’roth said, “Get Captain Akinola on the horn immediately. We may have found something.”

Elian nodded, and in moments the Captain’s voice crackled through the speakers, “Bluefin. Go ahead, Wanderer.”

“Captain,” G’roth said, his voice taut with excitement, “Our sensors have picked up an energy signature in the Molari Badlands that matches the disturbance we recorded when McBride appeared. It’s faint but it’s definitely something. I’m having the sensor readings sent over now.”

The line was silent for a moment before Captain Akinola’s voice came through, “Thank you, Captain Cortez. We’ll review this immediately. In the meantime, keep your crew on high alert. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”

G’roth nodded to Elian, who sent the data over to the Bluefin. “Understood, Captain. We’ll stand by for further instructions.”

On the Bluefin’s bridge, the tension was palpable as Captain Akinola and Commander Strauss studied the incoming data. The energy signature was indeed anomalous, a swirl of colors and readings that didn’t quite match up to anything in their databases.

“It’s definitely a subspace anomaly, Captain,” Strauss murmured, her eyes never leaving the readings.

“Agreed,” Akinola said, her gaze shifting to G’roth’s image on the viewscreen. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Captain Cortez. We’ll need to investigate this further. Prepare the Wanderer for undocking and to follow us to the source of the signature.”

“Understood, Captain,” G’roth responded, the excitement in his voice tempered by the gravity of the situation. “We’ll be ready to move out on your mark.”

 

[Callum MacLeod]

The Wanderer and the Bluefin dropped out of warp with a gentle lurch, the swirling chaos of the Molari Badlands stretching out before them like a vast expanse of hellfire. The stars looked alien and twisted, their light refracting through the storm of particles that danced and collided in the volatile space. The ships hung in the void, their hulls gleaming against the tumultuous backdrop.

On the Wanderer’s bridge, G’roth watched as the Bluefin’s silhouette grew larger in the viewscreen, its sleek form a stark contrast to the freighter’s more utilitarian design. The Federation starship’s powerful sensors began to sweep the area, probing the space around them for any sign of the elusive subspace anomaly.

Lieutenant Commander T’Ser stood at her station, her long fingers dancing over the console as she coordinated the sensor sweeps. The bridge crew of both ships were tense, their eyes glued to their screens, searching for answers in the chaotic sea of data. The air was charged with anticipation, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them like a physical force. Part of T’Ser wanted nothing more than to find the way to send McBride back to his own reality. She felt a duty to help this man who shared the face of her lost love. But deep within, a selfish part of her clung to the hope that perhaps, somehow, this was a second chance. A chance to rewrite the past, to find love with someone she had mourned for so long. The conflict within her was a silent storm, raging alongside the tumultuous plasma outside the ship’s hull. Her eyes widened as she found something on the scanners, a blip that resonated with the same energy as the disturbance that had brought McBride here. She studied it, her heart racing as she made her decision, to honor HER Dale’s memory by helping THIS Dale get home to HIS T’Ser.

“Captain,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her, “I’ve located the anomaly. It is building in intensity. We can get Commander McBride back to hia reality but we need to move quickly.”

“What do we need to do, Commander?” Akinola asked.

“We need to transfer a case of dilithium crystals to the Wanderer,” T’Ser said, her eyes never leaving the readings on her console. “They have to be placed exactly where the crystals that were sold to the Ferengi were stored. The interaction of the energy with dilithium and Prototaxites stellaviatori mycelium spores could recreate the conditions to reverse the original displacement. Provided that Commander McBride and the Wanderer are at the exact coordinates where he appeared.”

 

[Callum MacLeod]

In the Wanderer’s cargo bay, G’roth and Akinola worked swiftly, placing the case of dilithium crystals in the exact spot where McBride had been found. The crystals hummed softly, resonating with the faint energy of the anomaly. The air around them was charged with anticipation, the very molecules seeming to vibrate with the potential for something momentous to occur.

Once the crystals were secured, Akinola nodded to G’roth, and together they left the pod, sealing it behind them. The space was left eerily silent, the only sounds the distant murmur of the ship’s engines and the occasional clank of a tool echoing in the vastness of the cargo hold. T’Ser and McBride stood awkwardly, the weight of their impending goodbye hanging heavily between them.

T’Ser took a step towards McBride, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I never got to say goodbye to my Dale,” she said softly. “Its comforting to know…”

McBride searched her face, his own emotions a tumultuous sea of confusion and regret. “T’Ser, I…”

“I know Dale… I know.”

The anomaly grew stronger, the air in the cargo bay crackling with unseen energy. G’roth and Akinola stepped out, leaving the two officers alone in the vast, dimly lit space. The pod’s lights flickered, casting strange shadows across McBride’s features.

“T’Ser,” he whispered, “Thank-you. I know this wasn’t easy on you. Or easy for you to do.”

T’Ser’s eyes searched his, a silent message passing between them. And then, with a soundless explosion of light and a rush of cold wind, McBride was gone, leaving nothing but the echo of his final words hanging in the air.

Her chest tightened, and she turned away, walking swiftly out of the cargo bay nearly walking into the two of them as they stood in the corridor outside the cargo pod.

“It’s done,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Captain Akinola nodded, his eyes lingering on T’Ser for a moment he turned his attention to G’roth. “Thank you for your cooperation, Captain Cortez.”

“We did what needed to be done, Captain,” G’roth replied, his eyes never leaving T’Ser.

“Indeed,” Akinola said, a small smile playing on her lips. “But you’re a business man. This has cost you, at the very least time on your next rendezvous if not actual profit.”

G’roth shrugged, “The price of doing the right thing, Captain.”

Akinola’s smile grew, a hint of admiration in her gaze. “Keep the dilithium. Consider it a small token of our gratitude for your assistance in this matter. It meant a lot to us to get Commander McBride to his own reality.”

G’roth nodded, the weight of the conversation settling on him. He knew the value of dilithium, but the cost of doing the right thing was something that couldn’t be measured in mere minerals. As Akinola called for transport and disappeared in a shimmer of silver light, G’roth found himself lingering in the corridor outside the cargo pod, his thoughts racing. He had never expected to be at the center of something so… cosmic. Yet, here he was, a player in a tale that literally spanned realities.

Shaking off the introspection, G’roth turned and made his way back to the bridge of the Wanderer. His crew was busy at their stations, the bridge a flurry of activity as they prepped to get underway. Elian looked up as he entered, a question in his eyes.

“We’re done here. Its time for us to get moving. We’re behind schedule for our rendezvous with the Mikilaks.” G’roth barked, his voice firm and decisive.