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"Future Present, Future Past" by Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 for language Thanks, Pesterfield! ;) Five “Over there!” Hoshi’s eyes snapped over to the left side of the viewscreen. There, for a moment, a ship coalesced into being: a slightly winged vessel in silver and gold, resembling a raptor in flight. Then its outline became fuzzy, but now that the crew knew what to look for, they were able to track it more effectively. Ensign T'Pol, at the helm station, leaned back in her seat and narrowed her eyes at the foreign ship. It was a subtle gesture, but Hoshi saw it. "T'Pol, do you recognize it?" "I may have seen the design before, but I cannot recall where," T'Pol replied, her words soft and careful. Hoshi knew the Vulcan had spent twelve years working for Vulcan's Ship and Space Ministry, so it was possible that T'Pol had seen it before. "Travis?" The Boomer shook his head. "Nothing I've seen, Captain, and I've seen some strange ships." Travis's board beeped as if in confirmation. "It doesn’t match anything in our database." “They’re using cloaking technology, but for some reason, it’s not working right,” commented Lieutenant Trace at Tactical. "I'm reading wild power fluctuations, as if they're struggling to keep it stable." The comm erupted into life. "Phlox to the Bridge." Hoshi touched her receiver. "Go ahead, Commander." "Captain, I'm reading the same power fluctuations. It may be an experimental cloaking device." She frowned. "A prototype, you mean. Odd they'd use it now, when they need it working most." Phlox's tone was calm, but she heard the engineer's thought processes turning. "I've compared it to the information that we got from the colonists and from Salem One. The same resonance frequencies, but they've been reworked in some way. It could be that it worked perfectly during the previous attacks, but their return has strained their cloaking equipment. I'll have to analyze it further." She nodded, although she couldn't see the Denobulan. "All right, Commander, but keep this channel open." "Acknowledged." Lieutenant Trace's voice went up sharply. “Two separate transporter beam signatures to two separate locations. One five mark nine and one five two mark six.” Commander Daniels’ voice came over the speakers from Columbia.“Daniels to Sato. Major Kemper reports that three crewmembers have been taken. Doctor Reed, Captain Hayes and Lieutenant Commander Tucker.” Daniels’ calm pronouncement punched a hole in Hoshi’s gut. Malcolm, Matt and Trip. They must’ve been transporting them to their ships. Why? The answer came close on the heels of that question. A Starfleet doctor, a starship captain and an Armory Officer. They want information about us. Appalled expressions all over the Bridge became ones of anger and determination. She shoved her personal feelings aside and answered in an equally calm tone, “Acknowledged, Commander Daniels. Commander Mayweather, can we pick up any of their biosigns?” Travis shook his head. “Their cloaking device is interfering with sensor readings. I can’t make heads or tails of ‘em. I can’t tell if they’re all on one ship or split between the two of ‘em.” He straightened and tapped his keyboard. “It looks like they’re both moving out of orbit, Captain.” She made her decision. “Commander Daniels, take the one on the left. We’ll get the one on the right. Jon, inform Shenandoah and the other ships that our officers have been taken and that we are in pursuit. Then get me Starfleet Command.” Jon Archer nodded and went to work. Hoshi glanced over her shoulder to LieutenantTrace. “I’m going to need you at your post a little longer, Lieutenant.” Trace’s expression was grimly understanding. “I’m here for as long as you need me, ma’am.” “Thanks, Bryan.” She nodded at Ensign T’Pol at the helm. “Pursuit course, Ensign T’Pol, Best possible speed.” “Yes, Captain.” Hoshi heard a slight tremble under the helmswoman’s voice, but to T’Pol’s credit, her hands were steady on her controls. Who are you? Doctor Malcolm Reed How old are you? Forty two Earth years. What is your rank? Commander. What is your specialty? Exobiology and Exophysiology, specifically Human and Vulcan. What is your security clearance? I don’t have one. I’m a doctor. What do you know about biological weapons? Nothing. That isn’t my area of expertise. I save lives, not destroy them. Malcolm cracked an eye open, but his vision was blurred and distorted. He saw a series of clear tubes in his arm and when he tried to move his head, he felt another tube buried in his neck. A colorless liquid bubbled in the tubes and a sense of warmth flowed through him. He fought to stay conscious, but his eyes grew heavy. He drifted again for a time. Who are you? Malcolm Reed. How old are you? Thirty two Earth years. What is your rank? Lieutenant. What is your specialty? Armory and Tactical Officer, Enterprise What is your security clearance? Level Two-Eight A What do you know about weapon development? Bugger off, you sods. I’m not telling you anything. -- Again, he woke up to disorientation and nausea. This time, he lay on a different cot, with a single tube in his right arm. He tried to move and his arm twitched jerkily. He closed his eyes, trying not to lose what little he’d eaten. Where was he? What had happened? It all came back to him in a rush: the attack on the medical camp, the hasty evacuation, the firefight against the armored soldiers. He’d fired his phase pistol until one of the soldiers had gotten a sleep dart in him, and that had been the end of it. What? That isn’t right. They physically restrained me until they could transport me up. He closed his eyes again in confusion. Whose memories do I have? Those have to be Trip’s; he’s the Armory Officer...why am I seeing things through his eyes, then? It was starting again, the Visions. He thought he gained control over their frequency and intensity, but that hard-won control had been removed, stripped away from him. It left paralyzing fear in its place. The fear of insanity, of going absolutely mad. He remembered the first one, during his two-year residency at the Vulcan Medical Academy. I was a doctor, but not Malcolm Reed. I was an alien, working at Starfleet Medical in San Francisco, confronting another alien, whom I’d never seen before. He was my patient, but I couldn’t communicate with him...The experience was jolting, disorienting, as if someone had ripped him from his body and stuffed him into another’s, one that was definitely not Human at all, with all its own thoughts, morals and idiosyncrasies. When he'd come back to himself, he found himself in the cooling room where the Vulcan medical staff kept their perishable drugs cool. Despite the temperature, he'd had a raging fever of nearly thirty-nine degrees Celsius. At that point, he knew he was in trouble. More Visions came to him, doubling in intensity and length, and nearly crippled his ability to handle his medical cases. Then Doctor T’Vau, his mentor, had introduced him to Doctor T’Les, of the Science Academy, and in turn, he got to know T’Pol, Ambassador Soval and Minister V’Lar. They helped him with his control, until he could function normally, more or less. Now that control was gone. He had nothing. He barely felt the tears that slid down his face. Matt Hayes found himself back in the medical tent on Palmyra Three, moments after meeting Malcolm Reed for the first time. Except things were different. He and Reed were yelling at each other, something about security protocols, for God’s sake. Reed was different; he no longer wore a medical coat, but the red stripes of–what—an Armory Officer? And himself, not the gold stripes of command. Hell, he wasn’t even in Starfleet uniform. He was-- A MACO? What the hell? Nate Kemper’s the MACO. He wore the oak leaf insignia of a major; Hayes wondered when he’d swapped uniforms with Kemper. Matt watched as Reed stalked out of the tent. He sighed and shook his head. That went well. He sees me as some kind of rival for Ensign Sato’s attention, in addition to taking over his department. Wonderful. He’d grudgingly agreed to Hoshi’s request to extend the hand of friendship, but Reed had to meet him halfway. Hayes, in his usual thorough manner, had read Reed’s service record. The man was brilliant in his chosen profession and was respected by his Starfleet colleagues, but he also had the reputation of being...difficult at times. For the first time, he felt his guard relax a little. Malcolm Reed and Hoshi Sato? Not likely, if what I saw is any indication. She’d kick him out an airlock if he decided to pull too much crap. She doesn’t suffer fools gladly. The thought reassured him. Yes, he’d be courteous to Reed, but it didn’t mean he’d be the Armory Officer’s best friend. -- Lying on the alien examination table, Captain Matt Hayes’s mouth went up in a smirk. “Commander!” Trip Tucker whirled around...and nearly stumbled over his own feet on the skybridge over Main Engineering. A hand steadied him and a pair of dark eyes bore into his own. “Uh—“ “Are you all right, sir?” The woman’s face grew concerned. He searched his brain for her name—Lieutenant Anna Hess, his second-in-command—and shook his head to cover his confusion. “Sorry, just a bit distracted.” He managed to smile at her, even as his mind was still in disarray. “What is it?” “I got those warp test results you wanted. Looks good so far; according to the specs, we should be able to push to Warp 5.2, but these indicate we might be able nudge it up a little more.” He snorted. “Dunno what the Captain might think of that. You know how cautious he is. He’ll probably think the nacelles will fall off if we break the speed limit.” Hess chuckled and replied, “Yeah, but if we can give him enough evidence, we can convince him to try it.” “Even if we give him mounds of trial results, he’ll still want to keep the speeding tickets off his record.” Trip sighed and rolled his eyes. “All right, I’ll look at this; you and Rostov set up the next simulation.” “We’ll get right on it, Chief.” She gave him a mock salute and headed toward the access ladder. Trip grinned and leaned his elbows on the railing. This was his Engine Room, and he worked with the best damn Engineering crew in the quadrant. All was right with the Universe. Then a man in command gold walked through the door and Trip’s smile fell off. The tall, relatively thin captain was calm, soothing and utterly in control. His oval-shaped face was, well, rather unremarkable, with his short, straight brown hair parted unevenly on one side. Trip sneaked a glance at the captain’s ears; his bland expression could have been mistaken for a Vulcan's. Apparently, it was something that Captain John Thaddeus Daniels was used to. He chuckled and raised his eyebrows at Trip and said, “I think Captain AG Robinson’s convinced I was switched at birth and given cosmetic surgery.” Trip blushed at being caught, but he sighed mentally and thought, Trouble in Paradise. -- And lying on the alien examination table, Lieutenant Commander Trip Tucker, Armory Officer of the Enterprise, thought, Dammit, I knew I should’ve gone into Engineering! |
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