By Alan Tripp

—

Scene: Battle Bridge, U.S.S. Dante
Stardate: 240513.1840 (aka. May 13, 2409)

“They went for it!”

Lt. Sean Dalmore punched the arm of the command chair in childish delight. The Borg had taken the bait and extended their shields around the doomed saucer section.

An alarm sounded from the tactical station currently manned by Suzanne – a Yeoman who was the only other person on the battle bridge besides Sean and Allen.

“Sir, sensors are detecting intruders!”

From the helm, Alan called up the proper readings before continuing.

“It seems Dante’s science officer created a special program to detect the subspace wave used by the Borg that lets remaining drones remain in constant contact with each other. That program is currently detecting 61… correction 64 Borg in and around engineering. “

The Dante’s makeshift Captain, Sean, laced his fingers together in front of him with his elbows resting on the chair’s arms as he tried to sort his way through it all.

“Do you see any signs of anything the former crew may have developed to counter a boarding party?”

Before Sollace could answer, a warp conduit opened, swallowing the LaForge-Cube with its intended prey still gripped tightly behind its shields. The Saucer went critical as a tremendous beam of white energy shot out across space, narrowly missing the Dante stardrive as the Borg Cube appeared to be vaporized.

—
Scene: Main Bridge, U.S.S. Nelson

<>

Dustin MacLeod stood behind the tactical station, a place he hadn’t been in years but felt as comfortable there as trying on an old pair of shoes.

He quickly pulled up Borg tactics as well as his old, pre-programmed weapons combinations.

J.B., the assistant chief security officer on duty, stood to the right on internal security and sensors, bowing to the XO’s superior tactical experience with the Borg.

The phaser blasts did not penetrate the Borg ship’s shields, of course.

Then the Dante began to fire upon the saucer section.

Seconds later, the Borg shield was extended around the saucer section, and the two ships began to move off together. The Dante turned away from the retreating ships as they began to go transwarp again, but simply coasting away under maneuvering thrusters.

The combined Borg- Dante Saucer began to disappear into the non-space of transwarp. When they were about halfway through, the saucer glowed white as her engines overloaded, and a tremendous beam of white energy shot out across space, narrowly missing what was left of the Dante and completely vaporizing the Borg cube.

Even at this distance, the Nelson shook violently in the shockwave.

What happened next was nothing short of spectacular.

When the afterimages faded from the crew’s eyes, there stood a wormhole in place of the saucer and Borg Cube. Bright oranges, reds, and deep blues swirled as a hole opened.

Immediately, J.B. called out, “Scanning… There is no signature from the other side that indicates a destination. The Borg ship and the Dante’s saucer section are gone.”

“Captain, I can’t predict its stability, but I do know that the Borg ship is on the other end and is severely damaged,” he continued.

The stardrive section seemed to be running out of luck, too.

One of about a dozen tendrils snaked out of the wormhole, crossing the Dante’s nacelles and pulling the abbreviated ship inside. Then the wormhole disappeared.

MacLeod looked down at his Captain, his expression grave.

“Captain, I picked up numerous transporter signals throughout the stardrive section during that battle and based on our scans, it is possible that over two hundred Borg are currently on board the USS Dante.

Tracey stood up and approached the viewscreen…her people were on that ship and they could be clueless that they had been boarded.

Even if they knew, there was little they could do….even if they had known where they had gone.

Dustin ran back to the Science Station and drew up a map of the Dante.

“I counted well over sixty in Main Engineering,” he exclaimed. “They’re going to take the ship from there and then work their way to the Battle Bridge!”

Captain Mills couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at all the curve balls she’d been thrown.

—
Scene: Battle Bridge, U.S.S. Dante

Sollace fought with the controls as the wave passed over the ship, rocking it violently in its wake. A Wormhole appeared opening in all its brightly swirling colors. … Its tendrils snaked outward crossing the Dante’s nacelles, pulling the abbreviated ship inside.

Then the wormhole disappeared.

Passage through the wormhole was bumpy at best, lasting for barely more than two minutes, but seeming more like an eternity.

Then, she was through.

The Dante appeared on the other side not much the worse for wear, keeping in mind of course that it was only the stardrive section.

Nearby, drifted the shattered remains of the Borg Cube.

Sean lifted himself from the floor as was Allen.

Behind him, he noted Suzanne laying stretched out on the deck in a crumpled form. Moving toward her, his hand reached toward her neck…..Thankful when he felt a strong pulse.

Breathing a deep sigh, he turned to the FCO. “Report.”

“We’ve made it through the wormhole in something close to one piece. The wormhole has already closed, and the Borg Cube is drifting derelict 3,000 meters off the port bow,” Sollace reported.

Then he smiled briefly.

“It looks like there’s not much left of it. Sensors detect … about four or five life signs. And I don’t think the ship can be salvaged.”

Sean breathed another sigh of relief.

‘Well, that was one down,’ he thought to himself.

“What of the Borg currently on board?” he then spoke aloud.

“Sensors detect a total of 115 crawling around in the lower decks….and it looks like that number may be growing. They’re assimilating the crew as they go.”

“Did the former crew develop any sort of contingency plan?”

After reading through the files, Sollace’s smile grew as he read.

“Yes, sir! I don’t understand it all, but the program tracks down each individual Borg via their subspace wave. It can also disrupt and block that signal as well as achieve a transporter lock from it. The system is programmed to automatically lock on and beam them to whatever coordinates we state. It’ll continue until all boarders have been repelled.”

“Seems they just didn’t have the time left to initiate it,” he added.

The CSO smiled warmly. It seemed luck was with them.

“Mr. Sollace, set coordinates for 2,000 meters off the starboard bow and stand-by to initiate program on my mark. … MARK!”

With the sequence keyed, all the Dante’s remaining active transporters powered up as they sprang to life. Borg began materializing into empty space beyond the ship.

After ten minutes, they were safe again.

Sollace checked his readings.

“I read only 37 lifeforms remaining onboard including us.”

“Only thirty-seven out of this ship’s former full crew complement?” Sean asked, the shocked sorrow registering in his voice.

‘So much for saving the Dante and her crew,’ Sean thought to himself. ‘To think of all that had lost their lives in this.’

Pushing back those ugly thoughts, Sean had to think about the living.

“Where are we?”

“Checking sensors now,” Allen called out from flight control. … “Well THAT can’t be right.”

He re-tapped the commands back into the console a second and third time before speaking again.

“Readings show us just outside the Corvaenuz System,” he said finally, “but the stars are off slightly.”

“What do you mean … off?” Sean asked.

“Location is confirmed but……”

The young officer’s facial expressions twisted into a rather puzzled and mystified expression as his voice trailed off.

“What can’t be right, Ensign?” Sean prodded.

“Sir, our location is indeed the Corvaunis System, but …” he paused again, but only for a few seconds … “The time is off.”

“Off in what way, Ensign?” the acting captain prodded, again awaiting the answer.

“If these readings are correct … It says the year is no longer 2409,” he answered, swiveling in his chair to look his friend in the eye.

“Calculated by star positions, computer says the year is ….”

“… 2370,” a new voice on the battle bridge finished quite calmly.

“You have … yes … traveled 39 years back into what would be considered your past,” it continued.

All eyes swiveled to see who the hell had spoken, all rising (if seated) and bringing phasers to bear.

It was Sean as acting captain who spoke, however.

“And who the HELL are you? … Q ????”

“No, I’m not the entity referred to as ‘Q’,” he answered with a shake of his head.

“I’m Daniels … a temporal agent from the 32nd century, dispatched to investigate your sudden appearance within this timeline.”

Before anyone could breathe another word, Daniel’s touched a device attached to his forearm and immediately all present found themselves no longer aboard the scarred battle bridge of the Dante, but somewhere else entirely.

“Welcome to my temporal observatory,” the agent answered quickly before the question could be asked.

Sean asked the next logical question.

“You say you are from the 32nd century and we …. We have been transported back to 2370?”

“And what the hell is a temporal observatory?” Sollace blurted out.

Daniels raised a hand to cease questions before drawing in a long, deep breath.

“From what we have been able to gather, the Borg cube attempted opening a transwarp conduit looking to drag the Dante in with it. … Only the attempt resulted in a wormhole, slicing across time and reality to land you here in 2370 … as well as an alternate.”

“Wait, wait, wait … Not just into the past but realities???” Sollace exclaimed.

Sean placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder before stepping forward, as the original leader of the rescue team from the U.S.S. Nelson … and as formerly acting captain of the Dante, he represented both the Nelson team and the Dante survivors.

“So, YOU are saying that WE are no longer in 2409 … but 2370 … AND not even still in our own universe?” he asked trying to wrap his head it all.

“Exactly,” Daniels confirmed.

“That wormhole cut through the fabric of your universe and into one of the adjacent realities … not too dissimilar from your own … but definitely different.”

“Different in what way?” Sean asked, trying to stay up with the conversation even as his mind reeled from the idea of it all.

“There are slight bits of history … small things,” the agent swept his arm around the observatory and towards the timeline that encircled them all, “that differ enough that as history continues to expand forward … it will result and shape itself into a completely different timeline than the one you know.”

“Ok,” Sean said, finally finding his mental feet again. “Then send us back.”

Daniel’s shook his head.

“An impossibility,” Daniels answered quickly.

“Sadly, there is no going back for any of you … THIS … is your new home,” he continued.

“Why?” Sollace asked. “You are from the 32nd century. And from the look of this place, you surely have the technology. … Send us back.”

“We cannot because you are already still there.”

Daniel’s expression turned sad for them, mixed with understanding of how they must be feeling.

“As impossible as any of this sounds …,” and again he turned toward a floating timeline, calling up a visual representation as he spoke.

“… The you still aboard the Dante of yet a third reality was also sucked by the borg into the same type wormhole, only it cut from their universe into yours and only transported them backwards in time a few hours.”

“They warned Capt. Mills and the Nelson of what events were about to happen so those events could be altered and changed … as is correct for that reality’s timeline,” Daniels added.

Sean looked as if he was about to vomit.

“So, you are saying we still exist there … and yet we are here … at the same time?”

“What happens to us?” Allen Sollace added the question.

“This is where you are meant to exist now … Yes,” Daniels answered. “This is where you are meant to remain.”

“Our families … friends … our lives?” Sollace asked.

“You are where you need to be, and this reality’s events will unfold as they need to because of it.”

The temporal agent paused a moment before adding … “I am sorry about the loss of your family and friends … but those aren’t your lives any longer.”

Sean was still trying to wrap his mind around it all.

“But by being here, we’re altering this reality’s history,” he stated not so much as a question, but a fact.

“And yet that is what is needed for this universe’s timeline to unfold as is necessary,” Daniels answered with conviction in his voice.

“What happens to us?” Sollace asked.

Daniel’s waved his hand across the displayed timeline, sending it back as threads within the larger master line.

“We will help each of you in creating new lives, integrating you into this time, this place.”

“And we are to just ignore the fact that we know how history is going to unfold?” Sean asked.

Daniels shook his head. “You forget that I said this timeline unfolds differently from you own, in fact … the planet Rom …”

He paused as if catching himself before changing verbal tracks.

“… Let’s just say history here will unfold different from what you originally knew to the point that when you reach 2409 again … It will be completely different.”

“No,” Sollace said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“No … Send us back. Family … friends … our lives are back there,” he continued. “Send us back now!”

Daniels’ shook his head but still smiled a thin smile.

“No … we cannot. … BUT I do now see why you end up becoming the ship’s cap … the person you are meant to be.”

Scene: Main Bridge, U.S.S. Artemis
Stardate: 240513.1840 (aka. May 13, 2409)

Those on Earth knew the date as May 13, 2409 … a date burned deep into the soul of Capt. Bearheart.

Looking out over the bridge of his command … the U.S.S. Artemis, NCC-84078, Alan saw not the crew but instead the events of 32 years prior.

It was on this date the U.S.S. Nelson answered the distress call of the U.S.S. Dante and dispatched a rescue team over to a ship whose crew had already been assimilated by an attacking Borg cube.

Was on this date that rescue team had assumed control of the Dante via the battle bridge and were swept into a wormhole created by said Borg cube’s failed attempt to open a stable transwarp corridor.

Thus, sweeping the surviving members of the team 39 years into the past … and into an alternate timeline.

No way of returning, young Ens. Alan Narross Sollace was forced to change his name (well, last name at least) and assimilate into that time, that place.

Thanks to the workings of temporal agent Daniels, he and others of the team were able to remain in Starfleet … beginning their new march through the years of history … including one Dominion War.

And now Allen Sollace … Alan Pathfinder … had reached the date he’d last left in another reality whose timeline completely differed from the one he’d been forced to live just to reach the same date once more.

He’d helped establish a new colony, fought the Dominion War, worked his way up through the ranks of Starfleet and even assisted with saving lives of refuges from the supernova that claimed the Romulan homeworld and several of its colonies.

Just one of the many events different from what he’d learned in school as a child.

Daniel’s had let slip that Alan would go on to become a ship’s captain and that came to pass a few years back.

Stroking the arm of his command chair, he took pride in Artemis and her crew.

With a few final thoughts of his wife, children and grandkids … Capt. Pathfinder noted that although the transition had been hard … leaving behind all they’d lost …, he was pleased with the way life had worked out.

He also made a note to contact Sean Dalmore … also now a Pathfinder … on this day of all days and share a drink with his friend who was out there commanding a ship of his own as well.

Some of the survivors of their original rescue team (being few in number) each agreed to adopt and share the family name “Pathfinder” while also helping establish a new colony where they’d all call home.

Pathfinder because they would knew they would have to find and forge new paths through life, having strong hearts to see them through the tragedy of the lives (and loved ones) forever lost to them now.

They’d come to consider themselves one family … bound by ties beyond those of blood.

And that family had grown a bit larger over the years since.

A thought that left Alan smiling as he turned back towards the bridge and mission before them.

He definitely needed to remember to call his brother later on for that shared drink.

—

Out of Story: The above begins by revisiting a story written back in the 1990s from the play-by-email RPG group U.S.S. Nelson within the overall Trek universe of alt.starfleet.rpg (a newsnet group at that time).

Allen Sollace was my very first character and through this, I took the version of him that went through the wormhole and showed where he actually ended up … as the version that went back and warned the Nelson was indeed … from another reality even back then (to explain his the twin self remained and became one Ross MacBride … whose story will also continue within this STO verse, but more on that story at a later date.

Respectfully,

Capt. Allen Pathfinder
CO, U.S.S. Artemis

The post “The Hard Reboot” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

USS Fortitude, Main Bridge:

The stars were behaving themselves tonight.

That alone made Miles uneasy.

From the command chair of the USS Fortitude, the galaxy lay arranged in neat, predictable vectors no quantum shear, no flicker of false parallax, no whisper of something that shouldn’t be there. After a lifetime of wars, incursions, and realities bleeding into one another, calm felt… provisional.

He checked the chronometer.

Two hours to midnight, shipboard.

Once, New Year’s Eve had meant champagne in San Francisco, laughter spilling out of Starfleet Academy halls, and the arrogant certainty that the future was something you charged toward.

Now it was a quiet bridge, dimmed lighting, and a crew that felt less like subordinates and more like family he’d watched grow into themselves.

Miles rested his hand on the arm of the chair his chair, for now and let himself breathe.

Five Fortitudes.
Five commands.
How many versions of himself?

He wondered briefly, treacherously how many more New Years he had left here.

Commander Teshla Phyhr, XO’s Station

Commander Teshla Phyhr stood with the stillness of ice that had learned patience.

The bridge hummed around her, consoles murmuring in disciplined harmony. She catalogued readiness reports with practiced ease, but her thoughts were elsewhere on Andoria’s long nights, on Imperial Guard drills where celebration was weakness, and on how much she had changed since choosing to remain at Llewellyn’s side.

She had declined command three times.

Starfleet personnel files called it “loyalty.”
Her clan would have called it choice.

Teshla glanced toward the command chair. The Admiral looked older tonight not frail, not diminished, but… reflective. She recognized the look. She had seen it in Guard commanders before they stepped aside for the next blade in the line.

Whatever came next, she would not let the ship stumble.

Not on her watch.

Commander Penny White — Main Engineering

Engineering smelled faintly of ozone and orchids.

Penny White stood near the warp core, arms folded, watching the containment field shimmer with quiet perfection. She had tuned it herself earlier unnecessary, perhaps, but rituals mattered. Especially on nights when memories had a habit of surfacing uninvited.

There had been a time when the hum of a core had sounded too much like Borg resonance. When every flicker made her heart race.

Not anymore.

The Fortitude had helped heal that.

Her staff laughed nearby soft, careful laughter, the kind engineers shared when systems were stable and ghosts were kept at bay. Penny allowed herself a small smile. She had built more than engines here. She had built trust.

Midnight would come.
The ship would shine.
And tomorrow, they would keep flying.

That was enough.

Commander Rose Harrington, Operations Station

Rose Harrington’s console glowed with logistics readouts, but her focus lingered on the crew manifest.

So many names.
So many stories.

She had coordinated refugee evacuations under fire, rerouted fleets through collapsing corridors of space, and watched friends come back changed or not at all. Yet nights like this reminded her why she stayed.

Because someone had to make sure the ship worked not just the systems, but the people.

She queued the fireworks protocol, double-checking safety margins and sensor interference. Everything had to be perfect. Not because Starfleet demanded it.

Because the crew deserved it.

Lieutenant Commander Neku Langi, Science Lab

Neku Langi adjusted the spectral filters and frowned.

“Interesting,” she muttered.

The stellar radiation profile near their position showed faint harmonics nothing dangerous, nothing anomalous enough to report. But it was… curious. The universe, it seemed, had a sense of timing.

She logged the data for later review and allowed herself a rare indulgence: wonder.

Temporal mechanics had taught her one thing moments mattered. Some echoed longer than others.

Tonight felt like one of those.

Commander Akadia Nilona, Tactical & Intelligence

Akadia Nilona watched threat projections she did not expect to change.

Old habits died hard.

The Romulan in her distrusted peace; the Starfleet officer accepted it cautiously. Around her, the ship prepared not for battle but for celebration. It was still strange, sometimes, how much she had come to value that distinction.

She thought of joint operations, shared bloodshed, alliances forged in crisis. Of standing shoulder to shoulder with officers who had once been enemies.

If this was what the future looked like…
She could live with it.

She deactivated half her alerts.

Just for tonight.

Lieutenant Commander Twimek Vodokon, Sickbay

Twimek Vodokon finished his final rounds with gentle efficiency.

Crew stress levels were elevated, expected. Anticipation often mimicked anxiety in biological terms. He made notes, offered quiet words, and accepted a cup of tea from a junior medic who smiled too quickly.

He understood that smile.

Healing was not always about wounds. Sometimes it was about permission to rest, to feel, to remember without breaking.

Tonight, he would allow himself that too.

Lieutenant Commander Fasu Lira, Security Office

Fasu Lira leaned back in her chair, boots on the edge of her desk, eyes half-lidded as security feeds rolled by.

No threats.
No intrusions.
No temporal nonsense.

“Suspicious,” she murmured with a smirk.

She had lived too much life to trust easy nights but she had also learned when to let the crew breathe. She adjusted patrol rotations to minimum readiness and sent a message to her teams:

Enjoy the evening. I’ll keep the universe honest.

Lieutenant Sieneth Th’rel, Helm

Sieneth “heard” the stars tonight.

Not literally though some would argue semantics but the subtle rhythm of subspace flow sang beneath her fingertips as she rested them lightly on the helm. The Fortitude felt balanced, content, as if the ship itself sensed the approaching moment.

She recorded a single line in her Braille journal:

The stars are holding their breath.

Dr. Aiyana Blackhorse, Observation Lounge

Aiyana Blackhorse stood alone for a moment, palm resting against the transparent aluminum, watching ancient light reach modern eyes.

New Year’s rituals had existed on Earth long before warp drive fires, stories, promises whispered into darkness. Across cultures, across millennia, the meaning remained constant.

Continuity.

She felt honored to witness how this crew carried that tradition forward not with superstition, but with shared memory and intention.

The past mattered.
So did what came next.

Lt. Commander Jaxon Reeve — Hazard Ops Bay

Reeve had seen men celebrate like they’d stolen something from the universe—loud, reckless, desperate to prove they were still alive.

Zulu Team didn’t do that.

Not because they were joyless. Because they understood better than most that survival was rarely a solo achievement. It was a chain. A hand grabbed in the dark. A shouted warning at the right time. A medic’s fingers moving too fast to follow.

He ran a final pre-event check anyway, because that was who he was: the man who assumed the worst so the rest could have a night off.

Across the bay, Ch’korrak was arguing with a diagnostic drone.

Nalora was sharpening a blade she didn’t need to sharpen.

Drevik had brewed something that smelled suspiciously like herbal optimism.

Velra stood at the edge of the group, half-present, as if the idea of celebration required a translated manual.

And Ssa’kith… Ssa’kith was simply there like a wall that had decided to be kind.

Reeve’s hand brushed the small slate he kept locked in his kit names, dates, the ones who hadn’t come back in earlier years. He didn’t open it. He didn’t need to.

He looked at his team and felt something unfamiliar, something dangerous.

Peace.

“Alright,” he said, voice calm, steady. “You’ve got thirty minutes before we head up. Try not to break anything.”

Ch’korrak snorted. “That’s discriminatory.”

Reeve’s mouth twitched. “It’s preventative.”

And as the laughter started quiet at first, then warmer Reeve realized the strangest truth of all:

They weren’t just a unit anymore.

They were… a family that had learned how to keep going.

Lieutenant Ssa’kith, The Weight of a Quiet Night

Ssa’kith watched the humans celebrate with a kind of studied patience.

In the Hegemony, marking time had been a brutal thing victories, dominations, the tally of conquered worlds. It had been noise and blood and certainty.

Here, aboard the Fortitude, the ship prepared for light.

Fireworks. A harmless ritual. No enemy. No prey.

He had once believed this softness would make them weak.

Now he understood: it made them harder to break.

Nalora approached and offered him a small packet some Andorian confection he couldn’t pronounce.

Ssa’kith accepted it carefully.

“It is… sweet,” he rumbled after trying it, as if offering an official assessment of a ration.

Nalora’s antennae dipped in amusement. “Try not to look like you’re being poisoned.”

Ssa’kith stared at her a moment longer than necessary.

Then, slowly deliberately he let the corner of his mouth lift.

It wasn’t quite a smile.

But it was closer than he’d ever been.

Ensign Drevik, Morale is a Medical Discipline

Drevik’s medkit was immaculate.

His people were not.

That was the trade.

He floated between them like a cheerful emergency protocol checking bruises from training, handing out warm cups, offering unsolicited encouragement.

“If anyone feels an overwhelming urge to confess feelings tonight,” he announced, “I’m available. For clinical reasons. Totally.”

Velra glanced at him. “That is not clinical.”

“It absolutely is,” Drevik replied. “Emotional suppression can cause stress-related inflammation. I’m basically preventing swelling.”

Ch’korrak barked a laugh and muttered something about Denobulans being “biologically allergic to silence.”

Reeve shot Drevik a look that said don’t push the commander into an emotional moment.

Drevik nodded solemnly then immediately passed Reeve a cup anyway.

Reeve took it without comment.

That was progress.

Drevik made a note in his head: Captain-level acceptance of morale beverages a major breakthrough.

And beneath the humor, beneath the bright tone he wore like armor, Drevik felt something real:

For the first time in his career, he didn’t feel like the medic tagging along with the fighters.

He felt like the heart in the center of a small, stubborn constellation.

Ensign Velra T’Laan, Logic, Instinct, and the Space Between

Velra stood slightly apart, observing.

She always observed.

It was safer.

Romulan instinct urged vigilance. Vulcan training demanded control. Starfleet asked something harder: trust.

She did not find trust logical.

Yet here she was watching Ch’korrak tune a device that would project refracted deflector light into patterns, watching Nalora’s attention subtly track every exit, watching Ssa’kith remain motionless in a way that meant he was ready to become a shield at a heartbeat’s notice.

And Reeve Reeve was the anchor. The center.

He was not impulsive. He was not cruel. He was not careless with lives.

He was… consistent.

Velra’s fingers brushed the small strip of Romulan poetry she kept hidden in her gear case. She had written it down years ago to remind herself she was allowed to feel something even if she didn’t know what to do with it.

Tonight, she didn’t read it.

She simply stayed.

And that, she decided, was a form of growth.

Lt. JG Nalora zh’Khev, A Blade Can Be a Promise

Nalora checked her knife because it was what her hands did when her mind refused to settle.

This ship this crew had changed her in ways she didn’t talk about.

She had come to Starfleet to fight. To restore her clan’s honor. To live at the edge of violence where certainty was sharp and clean.

Instead, she had found something messier.

People.

Reeve had given her purpose without demanding she become someone else.

Ssa’kith had taught her that strength could be quiet.

Drevik had proven that courage could smile.

Velra had shown her that conflict didn’t always need to explode outward.

Ch’korrak gods help them had demonstrated that arguing with the universe could sometimes be a love language.

Nalora looked around at them and realized a truth she would never say aloud:

She was no longer fighting to restore her clan’s honor.

She was fighting to protect this.

This team. This ship. This strange little pocket of belonging.

Her antennae flicked toward Reeve.

“Kaleth’rev,” she said softly Shield-Brother.

Reeve looked up, surprised by the gentleness in her tone.

“What is it?” he asked.

Nalora sheathed the blade with a precise click.

“Nothing,” she said, and meant the opposite.

CPO Ch’korrak, Engineering is Arguing With Physics Until You Win

The fireworks display was, in Ch’korrak’s professional opinion, ridiculous.

Also elegant.

Also dangerously tempting.

He’d been asked politely, infuriatingly politely to assist Operations in deploying sensor drones to cast prismatic light patterns across the Fortitude’s silhouette. No explosives. No volatile charges. No “fun.”

So he’d done what any responsible Tellarite combat engineer would do.

He’d upgraded it.

Not enough to violate safety protocols he wasn’t suicidal but enough that the light would bloom in layered, spiraling geometry instead of bland “officially approved sparkle nonsense.”

He muttered at the drone rack as he worked. “There. That’s art. That’s engineering. That’s”

Drevik leaned in. “That’s you secretly caring.”

Ch’korrak paused, then growled, “That’s me preventing you from embarrassing the ship with amateur hour.”

Reeve walked past, glanced at the readouts, and after a beat nodded once.

A simple nod.

But it hit Ch’korrak like a medal.

He watched Reeve’s back as the commander moved away and felt something he hated admitting:

Pride.

Not in himself.

In them.

In the fact that a team built for disaster could still take time to paint light across the stars.

Zulu Team didn’t talk about love.
They talked about protocols. Loadouts. Angles of approach.

But tonight, as they headed up from Hazard Ops toward the gathering decks, the truth moved with them through the corridors like a quiet formation:

They had become the kind of people who could survive the worst and still show up for the moment the year turned.

USS Fortitude: 00:00 Shipboard Time

The lights aboard the Fortitude dimmed not abruptly, not dramatically, but with the gentle confidence of a ship that trusted its crew to understand what came next.

Across decks and duty stations, conversations trailed off. Glasses were lowered. Hands found railings, shoulders, bulkheads. Somewhere in the ship’s core, a chronometer ticked toward a boundary humans had invented and yet never stopped needing.

On the bridge, the stars ahead seemed to hold their alignment.

“Mark,” said Commander Rose Harrington softly, fingers poised above the console.

The Fortitude did not count down aloud.

She never had.

The Ship

At the exact moment the year turned, the Fortitude came alive.

Not with weapons fire.
Not with alarms.
But with light.

From launch bays and maintenance ports, a constellation of sensor drones bloomed outward in precise geometry. Deflector harmonics refracted across their hulls, casting prismatic arcs that spiraled, unfolded, and reformed color without heat, brilliance without violence.

To those watching from inside, it looked as though the ship itself had decided to breathe out.

No sound reached them.
Space kept its silence.

But the crew felt it all the same.

USS Fortitude, Main Bridge

On the bridge, Admiral Miles Llewellyn stood.

No one ordered him to. No protocol demanded it. He simply rose from the chair as the first wave of light swept across the forward viewscreen, painting the bridge in blues, golds, and soft greens.

Commander Teshla Phyhr stood beside him, posture immaculate, antennae angled slightly forward an unconscious sign of attention, of presence.

For once, neither spoke.

They didn’t need to.

The Fortitude was steady beneath their feet, every system precisely where it should be. Not because the universe was kind but because the people here were ready.

Miles felt the weight of it then.
Not the burden of command.

The completion of it.

USS Fortitude, Observation Lounge

In the observation lounge, crew members lined the transparent aluminum in quiet clusters.

Dr. Aiyana Blackhorse closed her eyes for a brief moment as the light patterns unfolded, thinking of ancient fires on Earth, of stories told to mark endings and beginnings. This was the same ritual, she realized—just written in a newer language.

Nearby, Lieutenant Commander Twimek Vodokon observed subtle shifts in posture, breathing, heart rates then allowed himself the rare luxury of not recording them.

Healing, he knew, sometimes required being a witness rather than a clinician.

Commander Penny White stood with Rose Harrington, shoulders nearly touching. Neither spoke. Both engineers, in their own way, appreciating the impossible elegance of controlled energy made beautiful.

“Ch’korrak’s fingerprints are all over this,” Penny murmured.

Rose smiled. “I know.”

Zulu Team: Together, Not Separate

Zulu Team watched from a lower gallery, unarmored, unarmed, deliberately so.

For once, they were not an edge.
They were part of the whole.

Ensign Drevik’s eyes were wide, reflecting the shifting colors. “Okay,” he said quietly, “I rescind every complaint I’ve ever made about Starfleet ceremony.”

“That’s going in your medical file,” Ch’korrak grumbled, though his gaze never left the view.

Nalora zh’Khev stood rigid at first then slowly relaxed, antennae lifting as if tasting the moment. Ssa’kith loomed behind her, vast and immovable, a presence that no longer needed to prove itself through force.

Velra T’Laan watched the patterns analytically… until she realized she’d stopped analyzing them at all.

Reeve stood at the center of them, hands clasped behind his back.

For the first time since he’d formed Zulu Team, he wasn’t thinking about contingencies.

He was thinking about tomorrow.

And he found unexpectedly that the thought didn’t weigh him down.

USS Fortitude, Helm Station

At the helm, Sieneth Th’rel tilted her head slightly.

The light show wasn’t silent to her not entirely. The deflector harmonics, the micro-adjustments in subspace pressure, the elegant symmetry of it all resonated like a held chord finally resolving.

She smiled, just a little.

“The ship’s… happy,” she said softly, mostly to herself.

No one contradicted her.

Between the Lights

They did not plan it.

That was the thing Teshla would later remember most clearly.

One moment she was on the bridge, posture immaculate as the first wave of refracted light washed across the viewscreen and the next, she found herself stepping away under the pretext of a systems check, trusting the bridge to hold without her for precisely sixty seconds.

Sieneth felt it instantly.

The ship shifted not in vector, not in thrust, but in attention.

She keyed in a course hold, confirmed stability, and followed without asking.

They met in a narrow observation corridor rarely used outside of maintenance rotations. The transparent aluminum viewport stretched floor to ceiling, offering an uninterrupted view of the Fortitude’s hull as the drones traced spirals of light around it gold, blue, violet silent fireworks blooming against the dark.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Teshla stood with her hands clasped behind her back, watching the reflection of the ship ripple faintly across the viewport. Sieneth leaned lightly against the rail, head tilted as if listening to a song only she could hear.

“It’s louder out there,” Sieneth said softly.

Teshla glanced at her. “Space?”

“The moment,” Sieneth corrected. “It resonates. Like the ship is… remembering something.”

Teshla nodded once. “On Andoria, we mark the turning of cycles with ice lanterns. They float until the heat of the day takes them.” A pause. “We watch to remind ourselves that endurance doesn’t mean permanence.”

Sieneth turned toward her then, pale eyes catching the reflected starlight. “You’re thinking about endings.”

“I’m thinking about change,” Teshla replied.

Outside, the Fortitude bloomed brighter light cascading along her hull in slow, deliberate arcs. The ship looked impossibly graceful, as if she were aware she was being watched.

Sieneth stepped closer.

Not hurried.
Not uncertain.

Just close enough that Teshla could feel the warmth of her presence, the subtle shift of air between them.

“I don’t hear endings,” Sieneth said. “I hear… continuity. Like a melody changing key.”

Teshla exhaled, the tension easing from her shoulders. “You always did hear things the rest of us miss.”

Sieneth lifted her antennae gently, brushing them against Teshla’s in a gesture that was intimate even by Andorian standards shared sensation, shared emotion, no barrier between.

For an instant, the world narrowed to that contact.

To trust.

To choice.

Teshla’s hand rose hesitant only for a fraction of a second before resting at Sieneth’s wrist. Grounding. Steady.

“This stays ours,” Teshla said quietly. Not a request. A promise.

Sieneth smiled, soft and sure. “Of course.”

The final cascade of light unfolded outside slow, elegant, almost ceremonial before the drones began their return, brilliance fading back into honest starlight.

As the universe reclaimed its darkness, Teshla leaned forward and rested her forehead briefly against Sieneth’s.

No kiss.
No witnesses.
Nothing that needed explaining.

Just two officers standing at the turning of the year, choosing each other in the quiet between duty calls.

Somewhere deep within the USS Fortitude, the inertial dampeners adjusted perfectly balanced.

Sieneth smiled.

“She approves,” she whispered.

Teshla did not argue.

The Moment Passes

The drones completed their final arc, spiraling inward as the light softened, then faded each returning smoothly to recovery vectors. The stars reclaimed their familiar dominance, cold and endless and unchanged.

But the people watching them were not.

Conversation resumed, quietly at first. Laughter followed. Somewhere, a glass clinked against another. Somewhere else, a hand squeezed a shoulder and didn’t let go right away.

On the bridge, Miles Llewellyn exhaled.

The year had turned.

And the Fortitude was still here.

USS Fortitude: Main Bridge

The bridge was on night rotation sparse, hushed, alive only with the low murmur of systems and the distant heartbeat of the ship.

Commander Teshla Phyhr lingered near the command well longer than duty required.

Lieutenant Sieneth Th’rel noticed, of course. She always did.

“You’re pacing,” Sieneth said softly, fingers still dancing across the helm with effortless precision.

“I am considering,” Teshla replied, though she didn’t deny it.

Sieneth smiled faintly. “That’s pacing with better posture.”

Teshla allowed herself a quiet huff of amusement and moved closer close enough now that she could feel the subtle warmth of Sieneth’s presence, sense the minute shifts of her antennae as the ship adjusted orientation.

“You’ve been flying differently tonight,” Teshla said. “Looser.”

“Only because you’re here,” Sieneth answered, without looking up.

The honesty of it landed between them like a held breath.

Teshla studied her profile the calm focus, the unguarded openness so rare among Aenar who ventured into Starfleet. She had seen Sieneth guide the Fortitude through spatial turbulence that would have rattled veteran pilots, all while speaking of stars as if they were old friends.

“You trust me,” Teshla said quietly.

Sieneth finally turned her head. Her pale eyes met Teshla’s without hesitation. “Yes.”

No qualifiers. No deflection.

Just truth.

“And I trust you,” Teshla said, the words chosen with care. “With the ship. With the crew. And…” She paused, antennae angling forward in a gesture that among Andorians meant vulnerability. “…with myself.”

That drew a soft, surprised breath from Sieneth.

“I was worried,” Sieneth admitted, voice barely above the hum of the consoles, “that what I feel would be… inconvenient.”

Teshla smiled slow, restrained, unmistakably Andorian. “I’ve spent my life being inconvenient to tradition.”

They stood there, close enough now that the space between them felt intentional rather than empty.

Sieneth reached out not with her hands, but with her antennae, brushing them lightly against Teshla’s in a gesture that was deeply personal, deeply Aenar. A sharing of presence. Of emotion. Of now.

Teshla stilled, then mirrored the motion.

The bridge seemed to recede around them.

“This doesn’t change the chain of command,” Teshla said, professional even now.

“No,” Sieneth agreed. “But it changes how the stars sound.”

Teshla leaned in then just enough to rest her forehead briefly against Sieneth’s.

No witnesses.
No announcements.
Just two officers choosing each other in the quiet between duty rotations.

Somewhere deep within the Fortitude, the inertial dampeners made a micro-adjustment—smooth, precise, perfectly balanced.

Sieneth smiled.

“See?” she whispered. “She listens.”

USS Fortitude: Observation Lounge

The observation deck was dark enough to feel private, but not so dark as to hide from memory.

Admiral Miles Llewellyn stood at the viewport of the USS Fortitude, pipe cupped in one hand, the other resting lightly against the rail. The stars had returned to their honest, unadorned places no fireworks now, no ceremony. Just the long view.

He keyed a discreet command into the console at his side.

“Fire suppression local loop standby,” he murmured.

The system acknowledged with a soft chime.

Miles smiled to himself. Command privileges have their uses.

He struck the pipe and drew in slowly. The smoke curled upward, thin and polite, dispersing just shy of where the environmental sensors would grow offended.

Behind him, boots approached.

“You know,” said Colonel Dan Dare mildly, “on at least three ships I’ve served on, that would’ve triggered an inquiry.”

Miles didn’t turn. “On at least three ships I’ve commanded, that inquiry would’ve mysteriously vanished.”

Dan chuckled and stepped up beside him, producing a pipe of his own older, darker wood, the kind that had been repaired more times than replaced.

“Mind if I?” Dan asked, already knowing the answer.

“Be offended if you didn’t,” Miles replied.

They lit up together, a small synchronized ritual born of long familiarity rather than planning. Dan took a thoughtful draw, nodded approval.

“Good leaf,” he said. “Earth?”

“Wales,” Miles replied. “Old friend sent it years ago. Been saving it.”

“For a special occasion?” Dan asked.

“For a quiet one.”

Dan reached into his coat and produced a squat, well travelled bottle. He didn’t offer it at first just set it gently on the rail between them like a peace treaty.

“Single malt,” he said. “Pre-Spacefleet distillery. Older than either of us.”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “Smuggled?”

Dan smiled. “Rescued.”

Miles disabled another system replicator audit trace, just for a moment and conjured two simple glasses.

He poured carefully, respectfully, as if the act itself deserved ceremony.

They clinked glasses once. No toast.

The whisky burned pleasantly on the way down.

“That,” Miles said, “is dangerous.”

Dan nodded. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

They smoked in silence for a while, the kind that didn’t itch to be filled. Outside, a distant star flared faintly and then settled, as if the universe itself had finished stretching.

“You’ve been thinking about Lazarus,” Dan said eventually.

Miles exhaled a thin ribbon of smoke. “I’ve been thinking about after.”

Dan turned slightly, studying him. “That’s new.”

“No,” Miles corrected. “Just… louder.”

Another sip. Another draw.

“Lazarus needs someone who knows how to sit still,” Dan continued. “How to listen. How to let others do the running.”

“And Spacefleet,” Miles added dryly, “needs a flag officer who speaks Starfleet without needing subtitles.”

Dan smiled into his pipe. “You’d be good at it.”

Miles didn’t deny it.

“I won’t vanish,” he said. “I won’t leave them feeling abandoned.”

“You never do,” Dan replied. “You leave them ready.”

That landed harder than any argument.

Miles tamped the pipe gently, eyes still on the stars. “I don’t know when.”

Dan raised his glass. “No one ever does.”

Elsewhere: Main Bridge USS Fortitude

Commander Teshla Phyhr noticed the anomaly first.

Not the smoke she had better discipline than that but the absence of a warning she absolutely should have received.

Her antennae angled forward almost imperceptibly.

Commander Rose Harrington followed the diagnostic thread a heartbeat later, fingers pausing over her console.

“Interesting,” Rose murmured.

At Tactical, Commander Akadia Nilona glanced up, eyes narrowing slightly. “Fire suppression loop… overridden?”

A beat.

Another beat.

Penny White’s voice came over the channel from Engineering, dry as old steel. “Before anyone asks, no. It’s not a system fault. And yes. I noticed.”

Silence stretched.

Sieneth Th’rel, at the helm, tilted her head and smiled faintly. “The ship sounds… indulgent.”

Teshla straightened.

“Well,” she said calmly, “if the universe isn’t ending and the ship isn’t on fire…”

Rose finished the thought. “…then it’s not our business.”

Akadia’s mouth curved just enough to be dangerous. “Officially.”

Penny’s voice again, amused now. “I’ll pretend my sensors need recalibrating.”

Sieneth added softly, “I’ll keep us steady.”

Teshla nodded once. “Then we’re all agreed.”

No log entry was made.

Back on the Observation Deck, USS Fortitude

The bottle was half empty now. The pipes were cooling.

Miles leaned back against the rail, the lines on his face softened by whisky and truth. “You know,” he said, “if I do take Lazarus… I’d like you there. At least at the beginning.”

Dan met his gaze. “Flag exchange or not?”

“Either,” Miles replied. “I trust you.”

Dan considered that, then raised his glass again. “Then wherever you end up, Admiral… you won’t be alone.”

Miles clinked his glass against Dan’s.

“Happy New Year,” he said.

Dan smiled. “Happy New Year, Miles.”

Outside, the Fortitude held her course quiet, watchful, and very deliberately looking the other way.

NRPG:

Well Could not let a new year go by with one last special before we kick off a new season

This one is more thoughtful not as much lower decks but more the thought of a duty and the cost that not everyone realises when they don the uniform.

The post Star Trek: Fortitude – A Holiday Novella – “At the Turning of the Year” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

Last Time on Star Trek: Asclepius

Gyramu’s voice comes through from Engineering. “Shield harmonics destabilizing. They’re pulling something through. I don’t know what, but it’s not small and it’s not from our side.”

Velan’s voice cuts in via comms. “Captain, Ghostkeel infiltration teams are falling back. They’re transmitting again. Same resonance as the dreadnought.”

Arleigh adds, “They’ve painted the station and the rift with the same signal signature.”

White stands. His voice is firm, unshakable.

“We hold this line. Ruiz—evasive pattern Epsilon-Three. Flores, ready phasers and signal the Fortitude. We may need Spacefleet teeth.”

“Already warming the torpedoes,” Digby responds.

White narrows his gaze on the growing silhouette of the Tau capital ship.

“Then it’s time we remind them… we’re not easily rewritten.”

The rift pulses once—brighter, louder—as something immense stirs beyond.

The Lazarus Rift pulses ominously in the dark void of space—a jagged tear lined with flickering violet energy. Out of warp, the USS Asclepius arrives. Sleek and striking, its hull gleams with silver-white and teal—markings of a Federation starship uniquely built for deep-space medical and scientific response.

On the bridge, Captain Fox White stands at the center, eyes fixed on the anomaly ahead.

“Back again… let’s hope this time, it listens,” he says quietly.

Lt. Cmdr. Eyaya Thal, the non-binary Andorian science officer, leans over their console.

“Subspace shear patterns resemble those catalogued during the Fortitude temporal echoes. But this frequency… it’s new.”

Commander Elisa Flores, seated to the captain’s right, frowns. “New usually means trouble.”

At helm, the ever-eager Lt. Janiyah “Jazz” Ruiz grins. “Sir, Outpost Lazarus is broadcasting a low-frequency standby beacon—no active comms.”

“Yellow alert,” White orders. “Bring us in slow. Open a channel. Let’s talk before this gets weird.”

And now the continuation

Captains Log – Captain White:

“Mission log, USS Asclepius. Contact initiated with unknown race self-designated as the ‘Tau’. Diplomatic overtures met with opaque assurances. Our medical outpost, Lazarus Station, is compromised. Helix Team has uncovered covert infiltration by operatives using advanced cloaking technology. This is no longer a peaceful exchange—it’s an active test of our readiness.”

USS ASCLEPIUS, BRIDGE

The bridge is bathed in the low hum of alert lighting. Though not yet at red alert, tension has begun to simmer beneath the surface. Onscreen, the Lazarus Rift pulses with its eerie, silent light.

Captain Fox White sits forward in his chair, arms crossed.

“Status on the outpost?”

Commander Elisa Flores swivels from tactical, her jaw tense.

“Still sealed tight. No external breach. But internal sensors are catching intermittent power surges—like someone’s piggybacking control protocols.”

Lt. Cmdr. Eyaya Thal glances up from the science station.

“It’s elegant. Adaptive encryption overlays. Someone is nesting commands in our infrastructure—coiled like a serpent around the relay cores.”

Lt. Janiyah “Jazz” Ruiz, at helm, whistles.

“Remind me again why we didn’t show up with phasers drawn?”

“Because the diplomatic option is still technically breathing.” Fox said dryly.

Thal shifts their antennae, deep in thought.

“Captain… this feels like a test. A probe—not of our sensors, but our cohesion. They’re watching to see how long it takes us to spot the knife at our throat.”

“Let’s not give them the satisfaction.” Fox responded exhaling slowly.

USS ASCLEPIUS, BRIDGE

The bridge is under low red lighting. On the main viewscreen, internal schematics of Outpost Lazarus rotate slowly, flickering with power disruptions. Stress is showing.

“We’ve isolated the feedback pulse to sub-level three. The origin point appears mobile.” Thal reported.

“A mobile origin?” Fox asked.

“Unless the walls are moving, we’ve got something walking around cloaked and jacked into the power grid.” Flores confirmed.

“Permission to fire a torpedo into our own outpost?” Ruiz asked with youth?

“Still not plan A, Jazz.” Fox said sternly but with dry wit.

“There’s another factor. The encrypted telemetry is not just transmitting within the station. It’s pulsing outward—short bursts toward the Rift itself.” Thal confirmed.

“To a cloaked ship?” Fox asked?

“Most likely. Ghostkeel stealth tech would align. They’re feeding it targeting data.” Flores laid out.

A pause. White stands, facing the rift onscreen.

“Then they’re planning more than a visit. They’re preparing a strike.” Fox answered.

OUTPOST LAZARUS, MAINTENANCE CORRIDORS

Helix Team moves cautiously. Darkness is broken by the pulsing glow of LCARS overlays and the dim blue lights from their HUDs. The corridor’s stale air hums with heat.

“Definitely not Starfleet code in here. Whoever wrote this script had a thing for redundancy and moral ambiguity.” Grell confirms over the comms.

“I found a relay. It’s hot—running subspace compression we don’t use. Socket, cut into the conduit.” Velan also confirmed.

JAX kneels beside her, emitter flickering dimly.

“There’s a signature attached. It’s layered with thermal bleed—matches Tau battlesuit patterns. That’s confirmed infiltration.”

“Energy flow indicates they are not just hiding—they are talking to something. A command vessel, likely cloaked in low orbit.” T’lira says quietly.

“Wraith, get us access. Specter, prep a data pull.” Arleigh commanded.

“I hope this thing isn’t booby-trapped. I left my spare limbs in my quarters.” Grell half chuckled.

A spark erupts from the panel. Velan jerks back.

“Confirmed tripwire. Too late to disarm.” Velan said concerned.

“All units fall back—NOW.” Arleigh shouted.

The corridor goes black as all lights cut. Then a low pulse… and a shimmer of active camouflage fades in behind them.

“Contact—rear guard! Tau operative visible!” Hressssk Growled response.

Phasers ignite the corridor in crimson light.

SPACEFLEET VESSEL FORTITUDE, INTELLIGENCE BAY

Major Digby stands behind a Spacefleet intelligence officer watching the event unfold via passive scans and trace data forwarded from the Asclepius.

“We’ve picked up three more bursts from the outpost. Minimal emissions, but precisely targeted.” Brint briefed.

“Do we have confirmation that these are outbound Tau signals?” Digby asked his eyebrow raising.

“We have pattern matches from the Artemis Incident. It’s the same encryption cadence.” Brint confirmed.

Digby folds his arms.

“They’re marking targets. Which means someone’s considering an offensive.”

He turns toward a tactical hologram.

“Fortitude to Asclepius. Standing by with tactical intervention drones and surgical strike teams. Your call, Captain White—but make it fast.” Digby says over the comms.

USS ASCLEPIUS, BRIDGE

White is at the center of the storm. Sweat beads slightly on his temple.

“Helix Team—report.” Fox ordered over the comms.

“We’ve engaged a cloaked infiltrator. Confirmed Ghostkeel armor. Repeat—Tau infiltration is active.” Arleigh confirmed over the comms back.

“Signal Fortitude. Tell Digby… Plan B is back on the table.” Fox responded.

“I’ll ready the weapons array. If diplomacy failed… at least we brought the bigger stick.” Flores nodded grimly.

“I wanted this to be different. Peaceful.” Fox said quietly to himself wondering where he went wrong and just for a moment wishing Miles Llewellyn and the Fortitude where here.

“Captain, they never stopped treating this like a battlefield. They simply smiled while aiming.” Thal answered.

TAU VESSEL – COMMAND CHAMBER

Aboard the hidden Tau Emissary-class vessel just beyond the rift, the interior glows with soft white and blue ambient light. Sleek, angular designs curve upward into holographic control panels and minimalist architecture. Por’ha N’drel, a poised Water Caste diplomat, stands beside Shas’O Vior’la Karesh, an armored Fire Caste commander.

“Starfleet’s response was quicker than expected. Resourceful. But their operational model remains scattershot.” N’Drel Appraised.

“They value unpredictability. An inefficient method—chaotic. But difficult to counter without escalation.” Karesh countered.

“And escalation violates Ethereal doctrine. This contact was to be passive. Observational.” N’Drel bowed response came.

Karesh turns to a tactical display. Ghostkeel infiltration readouts flicker across the screen.

“We are not firing. We are learning. Testing. No civilization survives first contact unchanged.” Karesh said clamly.

N’drel places a hand over a pulsing communication rune.

“Then let us test wisely. And not mistake arrogance for clarity.”

They turn toward the viewport. The Lazarus Rift glows in the distance—ominous and beckoning.

USS ASCLEPIUS, BRIDGE

The bridge remains dimmed under alert lighting. Alerts flash across the tactical display as internal sensors struggle to maintain a lock on cloaked contacts.

“Multiple transporter echoes—short bursts. They’re either beaming in… or out.” Ruiz reported.

“No warp signatures. Whatever is cloaked beyond the rift is maintaining position. Passive… but not idle.” Thal confirmed.

“If they’re uploading full personnel schematics and deck plans—Asclepius could be the real target.” Flores mused.

Fox rises from the command chair, posture rigid with rising concern.

“Ready the evacuation protocols. Quietly. I want medical teams prepped in case this turns surgical.”

“Captain—one more thing. I’ve translated a root phoneme from the intercepted bursts.” Thal gave the good news.

The viewscreen changes to Tau symbols with Federation translation underneath.

T’Aun Shas’ar. Fire Commander Protocol.

“‘Fire’ in their command hierarchy is a designation. But the usage here… it’s ceremonial. The operative isn’t just an infiltrator. They’re a leader.” Thal confirmed.

OUTPOST LAZARUS, HAZARD OPS CONDUIT DECK

Helix Team regroups in a secured junction. Sparks flicker from a damaged LCARS panel, casting harsh lighting over the sweat-drenched team.

“They’re cycling all ventilation feeds through a subprocessor. Mapping the whole damn place with ambient bio-signs.” Velan reporting fingers dancing over the LCARS controls.

“They are cataloguing species types… and prioritising.” T’Lira confirmed.

“You mean triaging.” Grell Said grimly.

“I’ve started a counter-loop. It’ll ghost most of us—but only for ten minutes. After that, we light up like emergency flares.” Jax reported.

“We get what we can, and we shut it down. Socket—plant a fragmentation loop. If they try this again, they’ll trigger a virus.” Arleigh confirmed.

“Enemy cloaks are adapting. Smell faint ozone. More suits incoming.” Hressssk said his tail twitching.

“Copy. Ready breach defense pattern gamma. Specter—how’s the exit route?” Arleigh asked.

“There’s one shaft left clear. But it runs cold—no heat, no flow. Like they want us to take it.” Velarik confirmed over the comms.

“Oh good. A horror-movie hallway.” Grell sighed.

SPACEFLEET VESSEL FORTITUDE, WAR ROOM

Major Digby leans over a starfield hologram.

“They’ve anchored a battlesuit carrier near the rift. Tau-class Dreadstrike silhouette. Slow pulse but deep output.” Digby reported.

“Orders, sir?” Brint asked.

“Monitor. Arm all tactical micro-drones. But hold. If they wanted war, they’d have fired already. This is… provocation.” Digby confirmed.

“Or distraction?” Brint said with a half smile.

“Exactly. So let’s distract them right back.” Digby confirmed with a wink.

He gestures. Holograms flare.

“Deploy decoy buoy and encode broadcast on scrambled relay. Let’s see if their ‘ethereal’ fire caste appreciates a touch of misdirection.” Digby commanded looking over to the communications officer.

USS ASCLEPIUS, OBSERVATION DECK (LATER)

White and Flores stand at the viewport. Beyond, the Lazarus Rift pulses, and the distant shimmer of the Tau dreadnought can be glimpsed.

“We opened this mission with hopes of peace.” Fox said.

“Hope’s not dead. But it’s in intensive care.” Flores answered with a half chuckle.

“If we survive this… remind me to take a long walk on a planet with zero anomalies.” Fox said with a half smile.

“I’ll pack the sunscreen.” Flores laughed.

They share a moment of quiet tension, pierced by a comm chime.

“Captain. I have a full data capture from the Helix Team’s incursion. You’ll want to see this.” Thal checked in.

“On our way.” Fox responded.

INSERTED CUTAWAY — TAU VESSEL, COMMAND CHAMBER

Back aboard the Tau ship, Karesh watches drone footage of the firefight in the corridors.

A junior Fire Warrior, Shas’la Tyen, speaks from below.

“Their response teams are well-coordinated. The defensive net caught one of the infiltrators.”Shas’La Tyen reported.

“That was the intent. Let them learn. Let them believe they’ve won.” Karesh confirmed

“Should we retreat the others?” Tyen Questioned?

“No. Let them finish the hunt. Our message is delivered.” Karesh Confirmed.

Karesh steps toward the viewing port as the image of Asclepius flickers through distortion.

“All resistance is friction… that sharpens unity.”

USS ASCLEPIUS BRIDGE, WAR ROOM VIEW

White, Flores, Thal, and Frump examine the data stream from Helix Team’s recovery. A fragmented schematic of the Tau Ghostkeel network overlays a map of the station.

“They weren’t just mapping us. They were seeding the station with signal relays—buried in the environmental controls and maintenance power relays.” Thal said.

“Like termites. With cloaks. And sniper rifles.” Frump commented.
“They’ve recorded the medical crew rotations, shuttle telemetry, and every hazard response drill we’ve run since docking.” Flores confirmed with a slight look of concern.

“What were they planning? Sabotage? A full takeover?” Fox asked?

“No. Not destruction. Infiltration. The goal was precision. Surgical silence.” Thal confirmed.

White turns toward the main viewer.

“Then we’re the tumour they didn’t expect. Time to make them feel it.” Fox said out loud.

OUTPOST LAZARUS, POWER CORE ACCESS SHAFT

Helix Team moves in pairs through the dark, low-clearance conduits above the power reactor housing. Sweat glistens, breath controlled.

“Specter. Socket. Breach junction alpha. We’ll flank left. Wraith and Grell, seal escape vectors.” Arleigh whispered.

“No thermal readings. Just static. It’s like they’re ghosts.” Velan perplexed answered.

“Correction. They’re less than ghosts. These suits were grown to evade awareness. But their signals… they breathe, just like us.” Orel Jax said softly appearing almost from nowhere.

Suddenly—FLASH. A Ghostkeel operative decloaks mid-stride and launches a kinetic burst. Hressssk reacts instinctively, shielding Velan.

“Permission to scream now?!” Grell asked from floor level

“Suppressing fire!” Arleigh ordered instantly .

A frenetic but controlled close-quarters skirmish ensues. The team fights in tight corridors—LCARS panels bursting with feedback. Sparks, static, grunts.

T’LIRA lifts her hand. A micro-stun pulse from her custom med-tricorder disorients a second suit.

VELAN dives, slamming her fist onto the relay node.

“Data line severed. Upload loop interrupted!” Velan confirmed.

“Extraction now! Socket, lay charges. We cave in the node after we’re clear!” Arleigh ordered.

SPACEFLEET VESSEL FORTITUDE, CIC

Digby watches the unfolding sensor telemetry. More subtle pulsing from the Tau dreadnought.

DIGBY
“They’re watching the battle unfold and not moving. That’s not arrogance. That’s confidence.” Digby thought aloud.

“Should we push the bluff, sir?” Brint asked?

“No. But let’s show them we’re not alone.” Digby replied looking at Brint.

He taps a console—two additional Spacefleet vessels decloak, framing the Tau ship at a distance.

“Now we wait to see if the ‘Greater Good’ includes restraint.” Digby asked dryly.

USS ASCLEPIUS BRIDGE, MOMENTS LATER

“Helix Team, report.” Fox ordered.

“Data stream halted. Tau cloaked suits confirmed. At least three disabled. No team fatalities.” Arleigh reported breathing heavily.

“Outstanding. Fall back and regroup. Medical team en route.” Fox commanded.

Frump crosses her arms, watching the viewport where the Tau ship remains still.

“Still not moving. Either they’re calculating… or they’re waiting for us to flinch.”

“Then we don’t.” Fox said to himself.

He turns to Ruiz.
“Put us between them and the station.” Fox commanded

ETHEREAL TRANSMISSION ROOM (UNKNOWN TAU LOCATION)

In a chamber of reflective crystal, a tall, robed Ethereal stands, hands clasped. A pool of gravitic light projects fragmented telemetry.

“This Federation… they believe peace is a structure. But peace is not a structure. It is a sacrifice. One they have not yet made.”

“The Fire Caste recommends advancing phase two.”

“Let them resist. Let them question. In doubt, the Greater Good finds its path.”

USS ASCLEPIUS BRIDGE

Asclepius held a firm position between Outpost Lazarus and the Tau dreadnought. The viewscreen shows the rift, flickering with its strange violet energy, and the menacing crescent blade of the Tau vessel still hovering at range.

“Tau ship has withdrawn its active scan protocols. Signal strength is minimal. Almost… contemplative.” Thal reported.

“Contemplative like a hawk watching its prey… or a theologian regretting the knife.” Frump considered.

“No weapons fired. No retreat. Just observation. That’s not hesitation—it’s doctrine.” Flores reported.

“Send the diplomatic packet. Include the data Helix recovered. And a message: ‘We’re not what you expected. Neither are you.’” Fox ordered.

Ruiz leans back in her chair with a sigh.

“So, that’s two missions, two galactic anomalies, and one stealth invasion. Think the third one’s going to involve a piñata?”

“Only if it’s quantum unstable.” Thal said dryly

Laughter breaks out on the bridge. Tension dissipates—if only slightly.

USS Asclepius, HAZARD OPS, HELIX READY ROOM

The Helix Team sits around the debrief table. Grell nurses a singed arm; Hressssk stands at the rear, his rifle resting nearby. Jax flickers faintly as his emitter recalibrates. Arleigh stands, arms crossed.

“You did good. No fatalities. We adapted. We hit fast. We hit smart.” Arleigh debriefed.

“Also, for the record, I only screamed internally.” Velan confirmed.

“Liar. Your soul shrieked across three decks.” Grell Chuckled.

“The mission proved the necessity of Helix’s existence. Our integration protocols worked.” T’Lira spoke calmly

“We are becoming… coherent.” Jax reported

“Next time… I suggest heavier weaponry.” Hressssk nodded

“Next time I suggest we send a different team.” Grell answered

They chuckle, tired but bonded.

“We’re not done. We’ve lit a fire—and someone’s watching. Dismissed for now. Sleep light.” Arleigh nodded.

SCENE 3 — SPACEFLEET VESSEL FORTITUDE, OBSERVATION DECK

Major Digby gazes out at the stars, hands clasped behind his back. He watches the rift close slightly, pulsing less now.

BRINT (offscreen) “No further signals from the Tau vessel. They’re holding position. For now.”

“Of course they are. They didn’t expect resistance with a Federation smile. They got Spacefleet steel too.” Digby answered

He taps the window glass once.

“They’re probing the edge of diplomacy with a surgical blade. But they’re not the only shadows out here.”

ASCLEPIUS, CAPTAIN’S READY ROOM (NIGHT)

Captain White, alone now, reviews the data sent from Helix Team: footage of cloaked Ghostkeel operatives, the intercepted phrases—Tau tactical language, Fire Caste codes, and a transmission fragment left behind.

DISTORTED VOICE (recorded): “Phase one… complete. T’au’va guides. The Ethereal will judge.”

White sits back, folding his hands beneath his chin.

“What kind of war ends before the first shot is fired?”

He taps his console.

“Log supplemental: We held the line. Barely. But the shadows grow sharper. And the Ethereal… is watching.”

He looks back at the viewport—where the Tau dreadnought still waits in silence.

TAU VESSEL  – CLOSING

Por’ha N’drel watches a silent feed of the rift pulsing as the Starfleet and Spacefleet ship remains in position.

“They will ask the wrong questions. They always do.” N’Drel said softly.

Behind him, Karesh begins prepping armor. Drones hiss in calibrated tones.

“Let them. The Ethereal has chosen. We will reshape this quadrant… one heart at a time.”

FADE TO BLACK.

TO BE CONTINUED…

The post Star Trek: Asclepius – Season 01 Episode 2 – The Fire and the Ethereal appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

Finally before Season 1 of Star Trek: Asclepius I thought we would take a look at the USS Asclepius herself.

USS Asclepius – Ship & Mission Overview

1. MISSION OVERVIEW

Name: USS Asclepius
Registry: NCC-47902
Class: Alameda-class, Mk III Hull Configuration
Designation: Rapid Medical Response Frigate
Era: 25th Century (Post-Dominion War Reconstruction Period)
Primary Mission:

• Emergency medical response
• Biohazard and outbreak containment
• Planetary disaster relief
• Starfleet humanitarian operations
• Tactical medicine in high-threat environments

Secondary Capabilities:

• Blockade-breaking and tactical escort
• Bio-anomaly reconnaissance
• Scientific research & diplomacy under crisis conditions

Nickname: The Midnight Guardian

• Known throughout Starfleet and civilian relief networks for appearing “in the darkest hours” — often first on-site at outbreaks, battlefield extraction zones, or anomalous medical events.

2. VESSEL PROFILE

Class Origin:
Derived from the Okinawa-class legacy, the Alameda-class Mk III incorporates lessons from the Dominion War: quick deployment, hardened hull, and modular triage systems. Its elegant, elongated saucer and reinforced secondary hull shimmer with soft blue trim — a Starfleet beacon of hope and protection.

Size Class: Frigate
Hull Trim: Pale Blue Accents
Drive System: High-impulse manoeuvrability with long-range warp capability
Crew Capacity: ~70 (Standard) | Emergency Surge: 160
Special Features:

• M.A.S.H. System: Molecular Adjustable Surgical Hospital – the ship reconfigures its internal compartments dynamically based on mission needs (e.g., ICU wards, trauma zones, quarantine containment, neonatal units, battlefield triage).
• Long-Range Medical Scanners with bio-signature anomaly tracking.
• Biohazard Containment Core for pathogen analysis and secure quarantine.
• Triage Shuttlecraft Bays supporting rapid deployment & evac.

Tactical Loadout

Despite her medical charter, the Asclepius is far from defenceless:

• Phaser Arrays (Fore and Aft)
• Dual Phaser Banks
• Wide-Angle Phaser Cannons
• Heavy Phaser Cannons
• Photon & Quantum Torpedo Launchers
  • Capable of salvo and multi-mode tactical firing
• Hexa Cannon (Prototype)
  • Designed for high-impact suppression in tactical medical extractions
• Advanced Deflector Suite
  • Generates gravity wells, sensor jamming, or field re-routing in contested space

SECTION 3: COMMAND CREW – USS ASCLEPIUS (NCC-47902)

Commanding Officer

Name: Captain Fox Joseph White
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Serial: 236-20-032
Background:
A thoughtful and serious officer with a mysterious past and a quiet strength. Fox has endured personal loss and the long shadow of a classified family history within Starfleet Intelligence. Now a steady, passionate leader with a clear sense of purpose, he commands the USS Asclepius with dignity, focus, and empathy.
Engaged to: Dr. April Wells, Starfleet Medical
Hobbies: Harmonica, mythology, model making
Psych Profile Summary:
Struggles with guilt and legacy; possesses exceptional leadership potential tempered by quiet intensity.
Notable Quote: “Let’s Stretch her legs.”

Executive Officer (XO)

Name: Commander Elisa Flores
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Background:
A confident, mission-driven officer with a sharp wit and a reputation for tactical flexibility. She serves as the ideal balance to Fox’s emotional introspection, often providing the voice of challenge and reason in command decisions.
Traits: Decisive, pragmatic, fiercely loyal to her crew
Notable Quote: “Plan B should be ready before Plan A even starts.”

Chief Engineer

Name: Lt. Cmdr. Nume Gyramu
Species: Saurian
Gender: Female
Background:
One of the leading Saurian engineers of her generation. Her attention to detail and low tolerance for substandard output is matched by her dry sense of humor. Nume has helped push the MASH system to new adaptive limits.
Specialty: Integrated bioengineering + warp core field harmonics
Personality: Unshakeable in a crisis, with a quiet warmth buried under technical jargon

Chief of Operations

Name: Lt. Cmdr. Gera Rrana
Species: Saurian
Gender: Female
Background:
A systems and logistics genius, Rrana manages the complex integration between the ship’s evolving mission profiles and its structural needs. Known for pre-emptively solving problems before most officers see them coming.
Role: Coordinates transporter logistics, triage deployment, and onboard resources
Known As: “The heartbeat of the ship”

Chief Science Officer

Name: Lt. Cmdr. Eyaya Thal
Species: Andorian
Gender: Female
Background:
A passionate xenobiologist and astromycologist, Eyaya is known for balancing scientific curiosity with personal empathy. Her research into subspace-borne pathogens has directly shaped Federation response models.
Personality: Brilliant, caring, and protective of her lab and staff

Chief Tactical Officer

Name: Lt. Suzette Frump
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Background:
A decorated tactical analyst and former planetary defense instructor. She is direct, no-nonsense, and believes compassion must be shielded by strength.
Expertise: Close-range combat strategy, torpedo salvo targeting, orbital defense tactics
Quote: “A medical ship should be just as feared as a warship—if you threaten what it protects.”

Chief of Security

Name: Lt. Cmdr. Kolez Sago
Species: Saurian
Gender: Male
Background:
Former planetary security officer from a Saurian defense force, Kolez is methodical and compassionate. He fosters trust among the crew while maintaining a strict security net.
Strengths: Crisis de-escalation, non-lethal containment, security AI
Reputation: He’s the one who sees trouble coming before the alarms go off.

Flight Control Officer (Helm)

Name: Lt. JG Janiyah “Jazz” Ruiz
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Background:
A hotshot pilot with a love for atmospheric stunt flying. She’s young, creative, and fearless — and often talks to her controls mid-flight.
Callsign: Jazz
Notes: Installed a custom seat. Blasted music during drills. Out-flew a Jem’Hadar skimmer during simulations.

Master Chief & Transporter Chief

Name: Rosie Jones (formerly Six of Forty)
Species: Human (Liberated Borg)
Gender: Female
Background:
Recovered from a Borg scout vessel in the post-Hobus debris zone, Rosie was granted asylum and rebuilt her identity. Now a Master Chief and transporter systems genius, she manages high-risk extractions and patient beam-ins.
Tone: Calm, precise, haunted by logic but guided by growing humanity
Quote: “Efficiency does not replace care. They enhance each other.”

Operations/Engineering Support Officer

Name: Ensign Jeri Landberg
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Background:
A mechanical systems specialist, Jeri handles the bridge-end of environmental control, internal power rerouting, and sensor recalibration. Often the “quiet fix” behind the bridge’s stable performance.
Notes: Dislikes fanfare, gets things done.

SECTION 4: HELIX TEAM – USS Asclepius Hazard Team

TEAM OVERVIEW

Team Name: Helix Team
Designation: Starfleet Hazard Operations Unit, Assigned to USS Asclepius
Primary Role: Tactical Response & Field Medical Integration
Motto: “Into the Unknown—Together.”
Team Patch: A twin helix entwined with the Starfleet delta, overlaid with a medical and tactical motif (see attached visual)

Deployment Scenarios Include:

• Hostile planetary environments
• Quarantine breach retrieval
• Tactical evac and patient stabilization under fire
• Recon and sabotage in biohazard-rich regions
• Starfleet medical mission protection & recovery
• Disaster zone breach/rescue ops

Helix Team combines frontline firepower, rapid medical support, infiltration, and tactical science into a single, unified task force. Members are selected for their excellence and their adaptability under pressure.

TEAM ROSTER & PROFILES

Team Leader – Lt. Cmdr. Cassandra Arleigh

Species: Human
Role: Hazard Team Commander
Background: A battle-tested leader trained in tactical response and exo-surgical rescue. Inspired by classic naval command traditions, Arleigh projects a quiet, confident authority. She excels in balancing mission logic with her team’s wellbeing.
Traits: Calm, strategic, decisive under fire
Nickname: “Helm-Hawk” (from pilot days)

Field Medic – Lt. T’Lira Varan

Species: Half-Vulcan / Half-Romulan
Role: Combat Medic, Bio-Stabilization Officer
Background: An orphan raised on New Romulus, T’Lira lives with constant tension between Romulan emotion and Vulcan logic. She channels this conflict into relentless self-control and an almost spiritual focus on preserving life.
Known For: Risking herself in combat zones to reach patients
Conflict: Fears the chaos of her Romulan heritage—but often draws from it when needed most.

Tactical Specialist – Lt. Korrath, son of Drenn

Species: Klingon (KDF Exchange Officer)
Role: Assault Planning & Small Unit Tactics
Background: Young, loyal, and full of fire. His father is a renowned legal prosecutor in the Empire, whom Korrath honors for fighting battles with words instead of blades.
Belief: “The Federation’s strength lies in what it protects, not what it destroys.”
Armament: Dual disruptor-blades, Type-3 phaser rifle

Science/Hazmat Specialist – Specialist Orel Jax (HOLO)

Species: Barzan (Deceased) – Holographic Reconstruction
Role: Hazardous Environment Analysis, Biohazard Containment
Background: Once a rising science officer who died of a rare airborne contagion. His consciousness was preserved with emergency engram recovery tech.
Persona: Calm, analytical, occasionally poetic
Quirk: Collects ‘simulated’ digital plants from every mission

Engineering/Tech Ops – Ensign Dorrin Grell

Species: Bolian
Role: Field Systems & Tech Recovery
Background: Loud, loyal, and always tinkering. Grell’s humor is often the spark that keeps morale high in the grimmest situations.
Nicknames: “Fizz,” “Boltwit” (calls himself that)
Specialty: Breach door access, drone overrides, battlefield recharging rigs

Heavy Support/Breach – CWO Hressssk

Species: Gorn
Role: Heavy Assault, Powered Exosuit Support
Background: A towering force of nature. Despite his fearsome appearance, Hressssk is soft-spoken, philosophical, and gentle with wounded personnel.
Nickname: “Crag”
Traits: Calm in combat, often anchors team movement under fire
Hobby: Collects rocks. No, really.

Recon/Infiltration Specialist – Velan t’Sholaris

Species: Romulan (New Romulan Republic Navy)
Role: Stealth, Espionage, and Sensor Evasion
Background: A survivor of the Virinat colony, she fought in the early resistance and now serves on exchange with Starfleet. She trusts her team but keeps most people at arm’s length.
Alias: “Wraith”
Gear: Sensor masking armor, neural dampeners, disruptor sidearm
Notes: Especially close to T’Lira due to their shared heritage

Chain of Command (Field Operations)

1. Lt. Cmdr. Cassandra Arleigh – Team Leader
2. Lt. Korrath – Tactical Deputy
3. Lt. T’Lira Varan – Medic/Triage Officer
4. Velan t’Sholaris – Stealth Mission Lead
5. CWO Hressssk – Breach Point Commander
6. Orel Jax – Environmental Analyst
7. Ensign Grell – Technical Support Lead

SECTION 5: CULTURE & TONE – USS Asclepius

“Compassion, Not Complacency”

Though built for healing, Asclepius serves in some of the most harrowing and uncertain regions of the galaxy. Her crew walks the fine line between aid and armament — between mercy and military readiness. The tone aboard reflects that tension: respectful, collaborative, often intense — but never cynical.

Asclepius doesn’t merely heal wounds. She stands where few dare to, carrying the dual burden of defense and care.

Tone Summary

Ship Traditions

• Blue Light Vigil: After every major casualty or triage operation, the ship dims its lights to pale blue for one full cycle to honour the lives touched or lost.
• First-Step Protocol: The youngest crew member steps off the ramp first on a new world — symbolizing Starfleet’s commitment to growth and future generations.
• The Quiet List: A scroll in the main lounge lists the names of crew saved from near-death, recovered via Helix Team or EMH units. Names are added silently, without ceremony.

Informal Touches

• Helix Team’s quarters are one deck below the emergency triage bay, and decorated with mission badges, black humor posters, and improvised sleeping nests for long standby rotations.
• Janiyah “Jazz” Ruiz often pipes old Earth jazz through Flight Ops, especially during low-orbit approaches.
• Dr. Eyaya Thal grows medicinal fungi in climate-controlled glass domes along the science corridor walls — crew members leave riddles or haikus for her on the glass in marker pens.
• Rosie Jones maintains a “salvage shelf” — a physical shelf of weird tech fragments rescued from transporter logs. No one knows why.

Current Cultural Threads

• Many crew members carry memories of the Dominion War or the post-Hobus relief efforts. The trauma of the galaxy’s scars runs deep — but so does the resolve to prevent more.
• The presence of liberated Borg (Rosie), a hologram (Orel Jax), and exchange officers (Korrath, Velan) creates a deep ethic of inclusion and identity exploration.

Key Ethos

• “The mission doesn’t end when the fighting stops — that’s when it starts.”
• “We are not here to conquer or retreat. We are here to catch those falling through the cracks.”
• “A scalpel can do what a phaser never will.”

SECTION 6: USS Asclepius Deck Plan (NCC-47902)

8-Deck Layout Summary

Deck 1 – Bridge & Command

• Main Bridge (Fore) – Compact but high-function. Integrated emergency medical command uplink
• Captain’s Ready Room
• Conference Room – Doubles as emergency outbreak coordination hub
• Emergency Conn & Tactical Control (AuxConn)
• Bridge Officer Quarters (Capt., XO)
• Upper Deflector Access & Inertial Dampening Conduit Interface
• Escape Pod Ring (partial)

Deck 2 – Officer Quarters & Core Medical Oversight

• Senior Officer Quarters (Command, Ops, Medical, Engineering, etc.)
• Main Sickbay (centralized, adjacent to EMH core)
• Medical Command & Triage Coordination
• Medical AI/M.A.S.H. Uplink Terminal Access
• Medical Isolation Rooms (secured from the rest of Sickbay)
• Pathogen Quarantine Lift to Deck 4

Deck 3 – Primary Medical Complex (M.A.S.H. Core)

• M.A.S.H. Core Facility – Reconfigurable trauma/ICU bays (modular environment)
• Bio-Support Labs – For crisis surgery and experimental treatments
• Stasis Pods & Emergency CryoVaults
• Psycho-Emotive Support Wards
• Portable Triage Replication Bays
• Counseling & Recovery Suites
• Emergency Transporter Access (bio-filter prioritized)
• Holomedical Wing / Holographic Staff Projection Arrays

Deck 4 – Research, Hazmat, Science, and Engineering Support

• Hazmat Lockout Corridor
• Biohazard & Containment Labs (linked to M.A.S.H.)
• Science Labs (Xenobiology, Pathogen Response, Subspace Bioanalytics)
• Holographic Integration Labs (Orel Jax’s core matrix storage)
• Main Engineering Access (Upper Conduit Junctions)
• Sensor Labs (long-range biological scanning arrays)
• Enviromental Systems Nexus

Deck 5 – Main Engineering & Core Systems

• Main Engineering – Central warp core + EPS relays
• M.A.S.H. Support Matrix & Structural Holo-Uplinks
• Deflector Array Junction
• Shield Generator Access
• Quantum Torpedo Maintenance Room
• Auxiliary Warp Diagnostics
• Technical Fabrication Workshop (used by Dorrin Grell)
• Helix Team Ops Briefing & Loadout Lockers

Deck 6 – Crew Support

• Crew Quarters (Enlisted + Junior Officers)
• Mess Hall & Galley
• Recreation Lounge (with medical-grade air filtration)
• Helix Team Quarters + Armory Access
• Hydroponics / Medicinal Garden Domes (tended by Eyaya Thal)
• Emergency MedLift Shafts to Deck 3
• Security Office & Brig (oversight by Kolez Sago)

Deck 7 – Tactical & Utility

• Shuttlebay Control and Launch Bay (1 bay)
  • Fits 2–3 triage shuttles or 1 large evac vessel
• Tactical Systems Maintenance (torpedo/hexacannon housing)
• Gravity Well / Deflector Subsystem Core
• Bulk Storage (emergency beds, atmospheric filters, triage tents)
• Emergency Grav-Plating Override Controls
• Transporter Room 2 (Heavy Lock-On, Shield Penetration Enabled)

Deck 8 – Environmental & Auxiliary Systems

• Life Support Core
• Power Transfer Conduits
• Auxiliary Computer Core & M.A.S.H. Backup Cluster
• Water & Waste Reclamation Systems
• Cargo Bay 1 (Emergency Field Supply)
• Emergency Vent Shaft Network Access
• Maintenance Crawlways

Section 6: Starship Systems Detail

6.1 MASH System Overview (Molecular Adjustable Surgical Hospital)

The MASH system aboard the USS Asclepius represents the apex of Starfleet’s modular technology design. Integrated throughout the vessel, the MASH network enables entire sections of the ship to be reconfigured for mission-specific medical, containment, or humanitarian needs.

Core Functions:

• Bio-Adaptive Environment Controls: Decks auto-regulate atmospheric, gravitational, and radiation conditions based on the biology of incoming patients.
• Holographic Diagnostic Suites: Enhanced by adaptive learning AI, these suites allow for real-time triage, symptom mapping, and surgical simulations.
• Crisis Morphing Protocols: In mass casualty events, the system prioritizes high-density triage pathways, converting corridors, cargo bays, and even holodecks into emergency wards.

6.2 Specialized Medical Systems

Surgical Pods:

• Self-sterilizing chambers equipped with high-resolution imaging and exo-surgical arms.
• Compatible with over 250 humanoid and non-humanoid physiologies.

Long-Range Medical Sensor Arrays:

• Deployed via dorsal sensor platforms.
• Capable of scanning biosignatures across planetary scales, identifying epidemiological threats, and scanning starship crew biometrics during rescue ops.

Emergency Transport Buffer Archives:

• Short-term, high-fidelity bio-pattern storage for personnel in medical stasis.
• Maximum ethical retention time: 36 hours.
• Approved for use only under Directive 487-G (Mass Casualty Emergency Only).

Containment Isolation Vaults:

• Internally reinforced rooms for infectious or unknown medical anomalies.
• Equipped with anti-transport dampening fields and Level 10 biometric locks.

6.3 Tactical Medical Enhancements

Despite being a rapid-response vessel, the Asclepius integrates systems normally reserved for frontline ships:

Defensive Medical Field (DMF):

• A Class 4 containment field capable of stabilizing collapsing hull sections while preserving medical quarantine.

Adaptive Gravity Well Generator (AGWG):

• Deflector-based tech used to disable hostile vessels by momentarily increasing mass signature in a localized area.

Sensor Jamming Suite:

• Cloaks medical activity from hostile scans when operating in high-threat zones, protecting patients and away teams.

6.4 Shipboard Medical AI: “Nightingale”

An integrated subroutine of the main computer core, Nightingale functions as an advanced decision-support AI designed to:

• Triage incoming medical emergencies
• Assist doctors in treatment options
• Prioritize surgical operations during multi-casualty events
• Serve as a voice interface in all trauma bays, bio-labs, and MASH-converted areas

Voiceprint: Female, mid-30s, calm tone with optional bedside manner modulation

Failsafe: Nightingale is programmed to defer final ethical judgment to senior medical officers or the captain in cases of Directive conflict

The post Star Trek: Asclepius – Ship & Mission Overview appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

Last time on Star Trek: Fortitude

Scene: Bridge, USS Fortitude, Edge of the Binary Star System

The bridge hummed with restrained energy. Commander Teshla Phyhr stood at the center chair, flanked by tactical readouts and subspace sensor overlays. The rift churned silently on the main viewer, its violet heart pulsing like a wound in space.

“It’s too quiet.” TESHLA said to herself.

She sits in the Captains Chair. The crew remains steady, professional but tension lingers in every breath. She exhales slowly and activates the mission log.

“Personal log, supplemental. Commander Teshla Phyhr, acting CO.”

“The Andorian war-song teaches that battle reveals the heart. I always believed that to mean the heart of the enemy. But now… I understand. It’s our hearts revealed in absence—in the silence that follows when the ones we follow walk into danger, and we remain behind.”

“Admiral Llewellyn leads the mission below. I should be at his side. But he trusts me to hold the line to command his ship. It is a duty I will not fail.”

She glances to a tactical feed—no word from Anastasia. Her antennae lower slightly.

“This rift tears more than space. It tears at certainty. At unity. But I will not let it tear this crew apart. Starfleet stands in that rift because we believe something greater comes from standing together.”

“I just want him to come home.” TESHLA said softly.

Teshla ended the log and taps in a command.

“Computer, compile current logs and sensor telemetry. Encrypt under Command Protocol Twelve. Transmit to Starfleet Command relay node Epsilon.”

[Acknowledged. Transmission in progress.] The computer responded.

“Commander, transmission complete. No signal from the surface yet.” Fasu standing near Ops reported.

“Maintain comm-silence sweep. I want to catch the first syllable of Anastiasia when they check in.” TESHLA ordered as she sat up in the command chair and tugged her uniform jacket down.

And now the continuation:

Scene: Ice valley Approach – Treen Data Uplink

The wind howls across a white desolation as Zulu Team hunkers in a rocky alcove overlooking the valley. CH’KORRAK and VELRA are hunched over a makeshift transceiver, jacked into a long-range Treen comms relay.

 “Signal scrubbed. We’re ghosting their network… barely.” CH’Korrak reported.

 “Parsing metadata clusters now. Encryption’s dense, but not elegant. Treens are confident—too confident.” Velra spoke alound.

Data scrolls across a makeshift LCARS interface, flickering with red glyph overlays.

 “Cross-reference hit—prisoner manifest. Designation: Anomaly Commander. Human. Listed as Level Omega threat. Site: Vault lower level.” Velra spoke up intrigued.

 “Execution order?” Reeve asked postering a theory.

 “Pending. But they’ve ramped up temporal or dimensional dampeners. He’s not just a prisoner. He’s a liability.” Velra spke with a raised eybrow.

 “Either a threat to the Treens—or to reality itself.” CH’Korrak asked checking his rifle again.

 “Then we move. Keep it silent until we’re inside. This isn’t just a rescue. It’s a revelation.” Miles ordered nodding to Reeve.

Scene: Ice valley Approach – Unknown building perimeter

Snow flurries swirl across a wind-scoured plateau. In the distance, a jagged, ominous structure juts from the ground—its obsidian walls angular and unnaturally smooth. It doesn’t belong here, half-buried in glacial runoff, patrolled by Treen sentries who look like they’re guarding the Ark of the Covenant. Or possibly their lunch.

Zulu Team crouches atop a ridge, sensors sweeping the horizon.

“Thermal readouts show twenty hostiles. Two plasma turrets. Vault gate looks… overcompensated.” Velra commented over the wind noise.

“They’re either guarding the meaning of life—or something that bites.” Reeve chuckled.

“Do we have a fix on the prisoner?”

Nalora: (tapping tricorder) “Yes. Still breathing. Lower vault. The energy field around him reads like someone tried to laminate time itself.”

“The Treens fear him. That usually means its either deadly… or annoyingly optimistic.” Ssa’kith half answered in a chuckle.

“They call him the ‘anomaly commander.’ Translation: ‘weird dude we don’t like.’”  Ch’Korrak answered to no one.

“Level Omega classification. Execution protocol overrides standard detainee procedures.” Velra nodded her response.

“So… VIP treatment. Got it.” Reeve answered.

Scene: Interior on unknown Vault

Zulu Team breaches the outer structure with a series of well-practiced micro-detonations. The corridor lights strobe red. Treen guards drop as the team moves in lethal silence.

“Split formation. Cell Block Omega-2 is our mark. Go silent.” Reeve order pushing ahead with Miles close behind him.

They advance through curved hallways etched with strange glyphs. The architecture hums with power and disdain for right angles.

“Wait a second. These walls… they’re not Treen. They’re… older. Iconian.” Velra reported.

“Oh great. Ancient Iconian. Because that never complicates things.” Ch’Korrak sighed.

“Energy patterns are cross-dimensional. Confirmed multiversal flux. And someone’s singing to the wrong quantum choir.” Velra spoke up looking over her tricorder.

The Team reach a forcefield-shrouded chamber. Behind the transparent barrier stands a battered man in a dark-blue uniform—defiant despite bruises, posture straight.

“Nice of you to drop by. You’re not Treens. Federation?” The unknown prisoner  asked?

“That depends. Who’s asking?” Miles asked.

“Call me Dan. Dan Dare. And if you’re here about the rift, then we’ve got a shared headache. Because the Mekon isn’t alone. He’s repurposed a being called Lazarus into a living gateway.” Dan Dare answered.

Zulu Team processes that in silence. Only CH’KORRAK mutters:

“Oh good. Existential collapse. It’s Tuesday.”

“Lazarus? But you’re saying he’s… the key?” Reeve Spoke up.

“He’s the lock, the key, and the wrecking ball. The Mekon’s using him to punch through into your universe and mine. If we don’t shut it down—both are toast.” Dan Dare answered.

Miles lowered his weapon, tapping the forcefield controls he spoke up making a spilt decision that something felt right here  “Then we’d better get moving.”

Miles deactivates the field and extends a hand.

“Thanks. May a burrow a rifle?” Dan Dare said shaking Miles hand.

“You’re in luck. We brought plenty.”  Ssa’kitch spoke aloud.

Scene: Anastasia – En Route, Low Orbit Holding Pattern

Interior lights hum quietly.

Zulu Team occupies the cabin—geared but weary. Velra hunches over a portable analysis station. Dan Dare sits near the rear, now cleaned up and clad in a borrowed Starfleet away jacket. His eyes scan the icy terrain through a side viewport.

“I’ve completed analysis of the Vault’s data core. The Iconian signal was being used as a carrier… but it wasn’t just stabilizing the rift.” Velra reported.

“Go on.” Reeve asked.

“It was resonating with a signal already present in subspace. A multiversal echo. The Treens weren’t just keeping the rift open—they were expanding its frequency. Tuning it. Like a beacon across realities.” Velra answered.

 “To what end? Invasion?” Nalora asked

 “Not just invasion. Synchronization. The Mekon wants to merge worlds—mine and yours. He’s looking for a perfect frequency match across universes. Lazarus is the anchor. He’s… fused between both states.” Dan Dare responded.

 “So the madman from your myth is now a multidimensional key.” Ch’Korrak asked.

 “He was broken between realities for so long, the Mekon found a way to stabilize him—just enough to use him. He’s no longer just one Lazarus. He’s all of them.” Dan Dare responded thoughtfully.

 “Then we either free him… or put him down.” Miles answered quietly.

A beat of silence hangs between them. Velra finishes a waveform reconstruction and projects a holographic image—an Iconian matrix threaded with Treen enhancements and… a third pattern, organic and volatile.

“This is the rift signature as it stands. If it completes this cycle—full frequency match—it won’t just bridge our realities. It’ll fuse them. One universe… overwritten by another.” Velra reported.

 “What happens if we shut it down mid-phase?” Reeve asked.

“Catastrophic probability spike. Anything caught in the fold could vanish. Or worse.” Velra answered concerned.

 “Then we’ll need precision. And help. I’ve seen what happens when the Mekon prepares a war across dimensions. He believes he’s the future of every reality.” Dan Dare responded nodding.

“Admiral. If this rift opens fully—we won’t just lose the planet.” SSA’Kith addresses Miles Llewellyn.

 “Then let’s not give him the chance.” Miles answered.

Suddenly, warning klaxons blare. The viewscreen flares with energy. NALORA checks the proximity sensors.

“Treen interceptors inbound—three ships. They’ve tracked our launch!” Nalora pipped up!

 “So much for a quiet exfil.” Reeve spoke aloud.

“Everyone brace. We’re taking the fight to the Fortitude.” Miles ordered.

“I assume the Admiral’s ship lives up to its name?” Dan Dare asked.

 “She always has.” Miles answered with a grim smile.

The shuttle banks sharply, engines flaring as it pierces the upper atmosphere—racing toward the USS Fortitude, and the gathering storm.

Scene: Bridge – USS Fortitude, Holding at Outer System

The USS Fortitude floats vigilantly at the rim of the star system, its silhouette holding steady in orbit like a poised blade. The lighting is dimmed to tactical amber. Commander Teshla Phyhr stands at the central, antennae twitching as she stares at the main viewscreen, deep in calculation.

“Commander—picking up ion disruption signatures from the lower atmosphere. Anastasia just broke cloud cover.” Akadia reported from Tactical station.

“Is Llewellyn aboard?” Teshla asked?

“Confirmed biosigns match Zulu team… and a new unknown. Human. Not on manifest.” Neku reported.

“Reading pursuit—three Treen interceptors. Fast and angry. They’ve locked onto the shuttle’s exhaust trail.” Akadia reported fingers flying over her console.

Teshla tapped her comm,  and dryly ordered “Cmdr White—let’s spin up the Fortitude’s teeth. Looks like someone didn’t RSVP to their own extraction.”

Akadia reported out loud from tactical  “Weapons online. Small craft combat profile loaded—config three.“

“Good. Let’s show them what a ship named Fortitude can do.” Teshla responded.

Scene: Shuttle Anastasia, Mid-Dogfight

The shuttle jolts violently as plasma bolts streak overhead. Inside, consoles flicker under the strain. Reeve pilots with grim focus while SSA’KITH handles rear ordinance.

“They’re faster than us in-atmo. If we make orbit, they’ll chew us apart before Fortitude even sees us.” Reeve reported.

“Lovely welcome party. You Federation types always do extractions the hard way?” Dan dare asked?

 “We prefer dramatic timing.” Miles answered dryly.

 “Incoming—warp signature! One large contact.” Velra reported from her station.

Scene: Bridge – USS Fortitude

“They’re clearing the upper atmosphere… just barely. Shuttle shields failing—twenty percent.” Akadia reported from tactical station.

“Target the lead interceptor. Phasers only. No debris on our pilot’s windshield.” Teshla responded rising from the captain’s chair.

“Firing solution acquired. Delivering now.” Akadia reported.

The USS Fortitude streaks across the horizon, phasers blazing in tight, controlled bursts. The lead Treen fighter explodes in a fireball that sends the others scattering.

“There’s our ride.” Reeve spoke up smiling and grinning like a Cheshire cat!”

“That’s your ship? Elegant, focused, and blunt as a headbutt. I like it.” Dan Dare spoke up peering forward from over the pilot chair.

“She’s brand new, I think its her first real fight!” Miles answered looking at Dan.

“Brace—looping toward the hangar!” SSA’Kitch reported.

“Remaining Treen vessels disengaging. Fleeing back into lower orbit. No further pursuit.” Neku reported from Science station.

“Hold position at the edge of the system. No need to overplay our advantage. Let them guess what we’ll do next.” Teshla ordered.

“Anastasia approaching main Hanger Bay”. Rose Harrington reported from operations.

“Prep medical. Hot cocoa if we’re lucky.” Teshla responded heading to the turbolift.

Scene: Hangar Bay – USS Fortitude

The Anastasia touches down hard, venting steam. Hazard Team disembarks, tired but intact. Teshla watches from the upper deck, arms folded, as Llewellyn walks down the ramp beside a clearly unfamiliar new companion before exiting to great the team.

“You’re late, Admiral.” Teshla reported.

“Got you a souvenir.” Miles jokingly responded.

 “Colonel Dan Dare, Spacefleet. Temporarily displaced, recently not-executed. And very much in your debt.” Dan Dare answered saluting crisply.

 “You’re not on the roster.” Teshla nodded back eyebrow raising.

“Neither was the rift trying to swallow our realities.” Dan Dare retorted.

 “Let’s get briefed. The real war may just be starting.” Miles responded grinning.

Dan Dare walks beside Admiral Llewellyn, eyes scanning the hull of the shuttle that had saved his life. His pace slows as he sees the shuttle’s nameplate.

 “Anastasia…” Dan Dare spoke quitely.

He steps closer, fingers brushing the lettering on the hull. His face tightens, emotion flickering beneath his composed exterior.

 “Something wrong?” Miles asked?

“That’s the name of my personal command vessel. Back home. Anastasia. She’s been with me through every campaign, every loss.” Dan Dare answered.

He straightens and gives a small, knowing smile.

 “Funny thing, Admiral. You chose that name here—on a ship that wasn’t mine—but it still found its way across the stars.” Dan Dare finally spoke.

“We assigned the name, random list, no significance. Until now.” Miles looked back at Dan.

“Nothing in the multiverse is truly random. Sometimes… the right names just echo across time and possibility.” Dan Dare answered with a smile and a wink.

Dan Dare rested his hand on the hull for one last moment, then turns to Llewellyn.

“Take care of her. She’s got a knack for surviving the impossible.” Dan Dare spoke.

“Then she’s in the right fleet.” Miles answered.

They both walk on as sparks fly behind them and the shuttle begins to shine under fresh Armor plating.

NRPG:

And so the games Afoot!

The post Star Trek: Fortitude – Season 01 Episode 06 – The Rescue appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

2406

“So, this is Houston.” 

Lt. Ahlayna Sollace crossed her arms, leaning back in the shuttle’s co-pilot seat, and took it all in. 

“Yeap, Shangri-La II-class … or at least she looks like one on the outside,” the pilot noted. 

“Also not ready for active duty yet,” he added. 

Nothing Ahlay didn’t already know as when researching her new posting, she’d learned that something about the experimental pylons the engineers fitted into her experimental design had caused a shimmying vibration that had grown steadily the faster they’d accelerated during initial space trials. 

So, Houston had been forced back to drydock where ultimately those same pylons had to be removed and a different design installed. 

The question now was if those different pylons could handle the forces generated by the type of nacelle they were trying to use for this modified class. 

But that was for the engineers to decide. She would be reporting to Capt. James Henry as his new CTO … aka. Chief Tactical Officer. 

As if accenting the pilot’s early words, a shuttlepod separated itself from a starboard docking port, fired thrusters and closed the distance between them, passing rather close as it buzzed its way back towards … wherever it was headed to. 

Pilot clicked open a channel.

“Johan, what did I tell you about trying to play chicken with me? You KNOW I’d rather crash the ship than lose.” 

Shae’s tactical mind noted the conversation and shuttlepod somewhat absently, her eyes elsewhere. 

“Can we do a visual inspection of the ship before heading in?” she asked at last.

“Sure,” the pilot said, hands moving across his board to alter approach. 

“Anything in particular you wanna see?” 

“Gunports and weaponry emplacements, followed by deflector array and shield emitters,” she answered, already pulling her pad from bag to make notes as they went. 

It was precisely one hour, thirteen minutes later that she found her way to the captain’s ready room and reported in … at the appointed time precisely, it should be noted. 

“Lt. Ahlayna Nyrross Sollace reporting as ordered, Captain.” 

“Pleasure,” the Captain returned, gesturing for her to take the seat in front of his desk. 

The half Rigellian, half human named Capt. James Draljo Henry was half Rigellian, half human. 

Something Ahlay respected as she herself was half human, half Romulan. 

He accepted her offered padd that contained both orders and personnel file, placing it on his desk beside the mountain of such already there. 

“You are Jarmon’s daughter, aren’t you?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. 

Ahlay cracked slightly, reminded of those she’d wish she could have shared this day with. 

 Nodding, it took a few seconds before she found words and could croak out a simple … “Yes, sir.” 

“I served with him aboard the Verity during the Romulan evacuations,” he returned, his eyes taking on a sad cast. 

“Both Jarmon and your Mother, Shaelyrra, actually,” he added. “Good people.  … Was very sorry to hear of his loss a few years back.” 

Ahlay looked towards the carpeting a moment before pulling herself rather quickly back together and raising her eyes back to those of her captain once more.

“Thank you, Captain,” she said, putting on a sad smile. 

““They are part of the reason I joined Starfleet … Well, my father anyway.” 

In truth, her mother had been an officer in the Imperial Navy before the destruction of the Romulan homeworld. After that, he’d managed to muster out and as a civilian, assist with aiding in the refugee evacuations. 

That’s how her parents first met. 

“Both … good, good people,” the captain repeated. “Your mother may have been Romulan Navy, but she served with honor before she mustered out.” 

And both would be proud of you right now, sitting in that chair following in THEIR footsteps,” she added. 

“But they are not why I chose you specifically for this billet,” he said, moving on. 

“Now, tell me about your time aboard the Nelson …” 

2407

Things were going smoothly, so to speak. 

It had taken another four months before they’d managed to get the Sam Houston out into space again and then another four months of fine tuning her systems, so they all played nice together. 

The Shangri-La II-class was historically created to serve Starfleet and the Federation as a battleship … a ship of war. 

It was a byproduct of the hawkish ones in Starfleet who had felt deterrence was a valuable tool for protecting the Federation and its interests.  

It had taken time but ultimately, cooler and more visionary voices had been heard in seeking more ships designed for being out there among the stars performing Starfleet’s original mandate of seeking out new life and new civilizations while learning all that could be learned, seeing all there was to see. 

The Sam Houston was an attempt to use what they already had as a platform for doing just that. 

So while still under construction, design engineers gathered around and sought ways to turn the Gagarian-class warship into a science spearhead geared for deep space exploration – Houston serving as the testbed prototype. 

In addition to extensive new sensor arrays, she held  a new type of deflector, engines and warp core just to name a few of the new bells and whistles. 

Those fell mainly to the engineering and science departments aboard ship to worry about. 

Ahlay spent more time worrying about the new weaponry being tested as well as how to help make those same tactical systems mesh well with the previously stated deflector, engines, warp core, etc., as if they didn’t play nice together. … Well, there was that time during a weapons test that one system overloaded several others, and they had to be towed back into port to have it all ironed out. 

But once the hiccups were smoothed out, the Sam Houston began purring. 

From her station on the bridge, the newly minted lieutenant commander continued work on a new attack pattern she was developing that would better harmonize firing patterns with the new quickstep thrusters that helped increase the ship’s turn rate and maneuverability. 

That’s when an alert sounded on her panel. 

Up until now, it had been a relatively quiet day. 

“Captain, sensors are detecting an anomaly forming along the northern edge of the Moskoe Anchorage,” she reported.

“Confirmed, Captain,” reported their Chief Science Officer, a Caitian named S’Rasian. “And it’s signature is very unusual with energy readings off the scale.”

The large feline looked over to Ahlay, “Are you seeing this?” 

Ahlay’s fingers were busy attempting to merge the tactical sensors with those of science to cut through the interference being generated by … whatever it was out there. 

“Trying to clear up the readings a little more, but it’s hard going,” she returned finally. 

That’s when the second alarm sounded, sounding a bit more intense. 

“Captain, we’re now getting readings not unlike those generated by the spacial anomaly investigated by Stargazer in 2401.” 

And that was all the captain needed to hear. 

“Get Starfleet Command on the horn and find out just what starships are within this region,” he ordered. 

“We might need them,” he added. 

Ever since the incident with the Stargazer, Starfleet realized just how much of a threat phenomenons like this might be. 

Not just because of dangers surrounding the event itself, but what might come out of it. 

Yes, with the Stargazer, what came out to say hello  turned out to be friendly, but one can’t always assume that might be the case. 

““Shae”Ahlayna, take us to yellow alert and have your finger hovering over the red when we arrive,” Capt. Henry ordered. 

“Helm, set course for the anomaly … Warp 8,” he said. “Want to give Command a chance to respond before we go charging in.” 

Respectfully,

— Ka’nej Hauk

Out of Story

In the next posting from this story arc, things will begin to get rather interesting as events begin heating up.

The post Darkstar: “This is Houston … Sam Houston” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

“I, Koraq, having been appointed an officer in the United Federation of Planets …”

The grizzly grey-haired Klingon stood at attention, one hand raised repeating the words of the Starfleet Oath of Service. 

“…as indicated in the grade of Lieutenant do solemnly swear …” 

In times past, he held the rank of Captain, yet that had been in the Klingon Defense Forces. 

Lieutenant was his new rank … his Starfleet rank. 

“… that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets …” 

It still felt strange.  He is Klingon! … Klingon to his fingertips! Yet, here he was swearing loyalty to the Federation. 

“… against all enemies, foreign or domestic, …”

And now the Klingon Empire was the enemy. They were enemy of the Federation and thus his enemy. 

“… that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; …”

His reason for turning his back on his people? 

Well, it was not a decision taken lightly nor did Koraq see it as turning his back on his people. … Only the government that ruled the Empire. 

“… that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservations or purpose of evasion; …”

His reason? … The Klingon-Federation War. 

When the Klingons declared war on the United Federation of Planets, they did so against what had been an ally with home they had maintained honorable relations. 

The act of the declaration, in Koraq’s eyes, was beyond dishonorable. And whereas some of his kin remained on a path of dishonor, he chose to walk one of honor. 

“… and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter.” 

His oath complete, the Klingon went from decades of commanding warships of the Empire to captaining those of the Federation. 

Yes, he was starting out low in rank, but being enrolled in Starfleet’s captaincy candidate program. 

It offered a fast track through ranks with a quick chance of soon becoming for the Federation what he had been for the Empire. 

Besides, how many Starfleet ship captain’s could say they were graduates of both the Klingon Imperial Academy *and* Starfleet Academy? 

——

The post From Klingon to Starfleet : Taking the Oath appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

Scene: Aboard the U.S.S. Thunder Strike
Date: August 1, 2294

A bundle for another time

Capt. Urshyra Agnes Sollace walked along the corridor of the starship she commanded, imagining she could hear the hum and slight vibration of the Kerala-class’ warp core. 

All her imagination of course as the warp core could not be felt through the decking or the sound of its power coursing reach her ears from where she stood. 

Her imaginations, however, gave her comfort as it was part of what for Unyrra was everyday life aboard the U.S.S. Thunder Strike. 

Farther down the corridor loomed the double doors to the ship’s arboretum. 

And once inside, it was easy to find the special guests that had asked to come aboard so as to make a private, special request of her specifically. 

With no idea what this request was to be, it did raise her curiosity up as it wasn’t everyday that one received a visit from a medicine person of the Bear Tribe Medicine Society — an interracial (now interspecies) society founded in 1971 by Sun Bear, an Ojibwe man who had a vision of people of all ethnicities coming together to learn to live in harmony with the Earth and natural world of the universe.

She found him located down a trail, standing atop a cliff, overlooking a waterfall that poured into a small lake – a lake located in the heart and hull of a starship out among the very stars themselves. 

He held up a hand sprinkling something into the wind … an offering she guessed … while he seemed to be muttering words of a prayer under his breath. 

Airing on the side of caution, Unyrra chose to wait for him to finish. 

Only when he turned away from what he had been doing and in her direction did she speak. 

Atohi Walker smiled as he stepped away from the cliff and approached the ship’s captain. 

“This is a remarkable place to find aboard a starship,” he said. 

Samuel Windwalker was a tall yet slender man, likely in his fifties or early sixties. His heritage was one not just of human mixed, but likely a couple other species as well. 

However, his features definitely showed deep roots in one of the tribal peoples of Earth North American origin. 

“I have to admit, it’s definitely a favorite spot of mine,” Urshyra returned with a warm smile. “A place to be and escape the calls of command during off hours.”

“Why don’t we sit, Captain, then and take in the view together as we discuss matters?” he asked with a nod, yet waiting for her to accept his offer to sit together. 

“Why don’t we indeed?” she returned, moving to sit lotus-style in a position to take in the view as they spoke.

After a moment, he placed the fur wrapped bundle he carried with him between them. 

“As you have likely surmised, there is a reason for my visit.” 

“I surmised as much,” she returned. “What can I do for you, Mr. Windwalker?” 

“Samuel, please, Captain.” 

“Only if you call me Urshyra,” she returned. 

“Very well.” Samuel smiled. “Urshyra it shall be.” 

“So, what brings you aboard the Thunder?” she asked. 

In response, he very lightly and respectfully patted the bundle between them.

“This,” he answered. 

“It is a sacred bundle that happens to protect a sacred Pipe within … a newly carved Pipe fashioned from black Pipestone,” he continued. “And its spirit has asked that it be brought here to you.” 

“I … I don’t understand,” Urshyra said, trying to make sense of it.

“Why would a sacred Pipe want to be brought to me?” she asked.  

“Because it wants you to carry it to where it needs to go … and when the time is right, pass it onto the person who it is truly meant for.” 

“So, I’m just a messenger then?” she asked, seeking clarity. “Who am I to deliver it to?” 

“THAT, I do not know, Captain, only that to say that you will know when you meet the person as the Pipe’s spirit will speak to you in that moment …. Whether through dream, intuition or other means, but there will be no doubt.”

“ In that moment when you meet the person it’s meant for,” Windwalker continued. “You will know.” 

“But why me?” Urshyra asked. 

“Why are any of us chosen for anything?” he returned in answer. 

“Those reasons were not shared with me other than the feeling that you are about to go on a journey and only through your journey will the Pipe be able to reach the person who is destined to carry it.”

Urshyra sat, taking in his answer and rolling it around in her mind … and it was her in her spirit she felt his words to be true.

‘But what journey?’ she asked herself inwardly. 

“Then who am I to argue with what is destined to be?” she said outwardly.

“Good!” Samuel exclaimed happily even as he reached for the bundle. 

“Then let us introduce you to this … as yet unnamed … sacred Pipe you will be carrying.”

As he opened the bundle and began spreading it out between them, he eyed Urshyra.

“You captain ride a wolf that travels the stars,” he said.

Many see the wolf as an adventurous spirit, loyal to its pack, a creature of courage & leadership, one who gathers wisdom from its adventures and is a great teacher,” he continued.

“This ship of yours is a beacon of life that runs through the stars as a wolf runs through a forest,” he continued. “The galaxy is her forest and she sweeps all of you along with her.”

As if on cue, a pair of wolves stepped from the tree line of the forest below, looking at them intently as the Medicine man turned his attention back to the Pipe between them.

At some point in the past, someone through adding a pack of wolves to the arboretum a fun addition.

The Thunder Strike’s “mascot” as portrayed in their ship’s seal and logo was the Wolf.

Even if holographic in nature, these wolves seemed to have personalities each of their own.

“Just as this Pipe has the spirit of the stars themselves, this ship has the spirit of the wolf it was so aptly named after.

—

Out of Story: This one is meant to introduce a new captain, ship and item … all of which are destined for a major story arc that is about to begin with the next story that’s yet to come.

The post Darkstar: “Bundle for another Time” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

Down he went and the transporter officer was suddenly in complete panic mode.

Not because a Starfleet Fleet Admiral was crumbled on the pad in front of him … or was it a Klingon Dahar Master? …. One couldn’t be sure in situations like this.

Hell … maybe it was both?

“MEDICAL EMERGENCY IN TRANSPORTER ROOM 2!” he screamed into his commbadge, even as his hands flowed across his control panel in a professional manner that came from years of training.

He left the Klingon on crumbled on the transporter pad to the security officer who was supposed to be there as escort for the expected pair of Klingons but instead was overseeing the comfort of the flag officer sprawled before them all.

“He’s still alive,” the security officer called out before looking back at the transporter officer.

“What the hell happened????” he asked.

“According to diagnostics, the transporter of origin initiated the transport sequence of the pair making the handoff to our transporter which saw the patterns as basically identical and so registered it as ONE pattern!”

His fingers continued their dance, working the controls to see if the damage could be undone.

“So, the system merged the patterns into one form and the result is now laid out in front of us,” he continued.

“Can it be reversed?” Sec asked.

“I’ve already tried to reverse the transport …. Even used the Tuvix protocols from Voyager but because they were copies of the same damned person … The system can’t lock onto the individual patterns and still only sees the one!”

“We are SO SO fucked!” he added for good measure.

Monitoring the Klingon’s life signs til the medics arrived, the sec glanced back at the transporter officer.

“I definitely don’t want to be in your shoes when the brass … or their families find out,” sec told him.

Before the transporter chief could offer a response, the medical team burst into the room, simply adding to the chaos of the moment.

“There is no … easy … way of saying this,” Admiral Adoy began, “but there has been an accident.”

“Hauk and Hauk’ were beaming from the ceremony to their respective ships when there was … an accident,” he explained.

“Two beamed off one pad, but only one rematerialized on the other end,” he continued.

“Were they able to recover the lost pattern and rematerialize?” Admiral Quinn asked, taken aback.

“Only one pattern remained,” Adoy answered.

“Which one did we lose?”

“Both? …. Neither?” Adoy answered.

At Quinn’s puzzled expression, the Moketian continued.

“From what they’ve been able to piece together so far, the system hiccupped and mistook the two for one individual and combined their patterns into one.”

“Since they are essentially the same person, just from different realities,” he continued. “It went rather seamlessly with both consciousnesses knitting together into one – one that maintains the memories of both individuals.”

“How are efforts going to separate them back into two again?” Quinn asked.

“All signs point towards that being an impossibility, Adoy answered. “Something about the fact they are the same person … albet two different realities … Their patterns are impossible to differentiate and so splitting them back into two is …”

“… not possible,” Quinn finished for him.

“Seems this new version of Hauk has come to terms with it, however, and is shrugging it off.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow as the other Admiral continued.

“He feels both of his old selves would be content with this arrangement as both exist inside him … He is in a sense … both. … All their memories and even their traits were pretty much the same.”

“As they would see and approach things is as he does.”

“Apparently, it … completes them somehow,” he added. “As if it was meant to be this way from the very beginning.”

“Destined to be?” Quinn noted. “How are the Klingons and Hauk’s family taking this?”

“You know Klingons … They shrug off such things and so are content with Hauk’s decision,” Adoy answered.

“And the family?”

“Same … Families feel the person they love continues to exist. Only difference is Hauk’ got his missing eye back … thanks to his counterpart who … thanks to Hauk’ … now sports the scar across that once missing eye.”

“Has Hauk decided what he’s going to do … professionally speaking that is?” Quinn asked.

“Starfleet or Klingon Empire?”

“He will return to family holdings of House of Rha, which he will ‘continue’ to lead … and plans to serve in the Khitomer Alliance … straddling both, Starfleet and the Klingon Defense Force via the neutrality of the Alliance.”

“An interesting solution,” Quinn noted. “Not bad. … Going to miss my sparring sessions with Hauk’, however.”

“On that, Admiral,” Adoy said with smile. “Hauk’ wanted me to tell you that he expects on the mat tomorrow and to bring your sword … wanting me to tell you that you are NOT getting out of this week’s session that easily and as before … Holo-communicates will allow you both to continue the sessions via holodecks.”

Quinn laughed, knowing he should have realized he wasn’t getting out of it that easily.

Maybe they both WERE still in that new body created by a transporter gone berserk.

The post When Two Become One appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

He once had a family .. a family of some note before the loss of the homeworld, yet he’d been pushed out by that time.

He also loved science in a family that for generations had served the military.

At a young age, Adalma attended the Romulan Imperial Academy, becoming an officer in the imperial navy after graduating.

Science was a gift that always came naturally to him, but so was the art of combat tactics.

The latter is the one embraced by both family and the Empire and thus the mold he found himself unhappily crammed into.

At least until a console exploded in his face, damaging eyes and optical nerves to the point of being legally blind — his sight too blurry to perform his duties.

It spelled the end of his career in the Imperial Navy as the Romulans considered him les than a man because of it.

As did his family for that matter.

With a long naval tradition, they held his loss of sight against him, making life miserable.

When the evacuations began, his family refused to accept Federation aid or assistance.

Adalma saw it as his ticket out of an extremely bad situation.

Sneaking onto an evacuation ship, he fled ffrom family and the coming horror the supernova represented.

And it was in the Federation that strangers not only took him in … but restored his sight with special glasses.

He surprised himself when he found after this that he actually wanted to get back out into space, but this time studying its mysteries as a science officer.

So, he applied to Starfleet Academy and was fast tracked into the fleet upon his acceptance.

Within two years, he had his own command and now commands the experimental Glenn-class science spearhead cruiser named U.S.S. Raegal.

The post Adalma … fleeing tactical for science appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.