by Alan Tripp

2408

As an Okinawa II-class, the U.S.S. Sam Houston was a small ship. 

That was both a blessing and a curse. 

On the one hand, it meant the enemy has less ship to conquer before a potential boarding operation could be considered a success. … Or in the case of the Borg, the ship and crew completely assimilated and under Collective control. 

On the other hand, it also meant the Starfleet crew had less ship spaces to defend, meaning it could potentially become easier to repel and defeat any boarders. 

In this case, it was the latter with Ahlayna and her team stripping the heads off their Borg invaders and / or beaming them into space. 

The Houston’s captain kicked a wayward Borg head out of the command well as she approached a forcefield that contained yet another drone who seemed to keep lashing out at that which held it. 

Something unique about this drone was it was a member of her crew … her first officer to be precise. 

Ahlayna locked eyes with Lt. Cmdr. Aruju. 

However, the assimilated Bajoran seemed to look straight through her captain. 

“Beam her to the cargo hold with the others and make sure that area remains shielded from any Borg transmissions … and finger on the button to eject them into space should the need arise,” the captain ordered. 

Ahylana hoped they could find a way to save her crew members assimilated, but that hope could NOT reach beyond the need to protect the ship and rest of the crew. 

She knew it was possible to “de-assimilate” some, but it was never easy. 

And as long as those officers remained under the control of the Borg, they remained a threat. 

As soon as that threat edged toward uncontrollable, saving the assimilated would no longer be an option. 

The Scottish-Romulan dropped into her command chair even as Aruju disappeared from the bridge. 

“Helm, bring us about on course three-nine-four. Put us in line with the rest of the fleet.” 

It was time to push the bastards back to depths of the hell that had so recently spit them out. 

— 13 hours later —

The Borg Queen saw through the eyes of her drones left behind. 

She felt the addition of each new drone as it joined the collective and welcomed their voice into that of the one. 

And when the ships of Starfleet and the empires began to rally and work as one, she one-by-one withdrew her forces … even going so far as to have drones from shattered cubes, spheres, etc., to be beamed aboard those ships still operational. 

Sometimes it was necessary to sacrifice the few for the betterment of the collective. 

Yet today, the few were needed to help rebuild her collective … and time was not on their side. 

The Borg Collective must be reborn and it would need strength to see it through. 

–

“HOLD ON!” Ka’nej Hauk bellowed. 

On screen, the view corkscrewed as the ship rolled like a drill to force it’s way through the narrow gap within the wreckage of the last of the tactical cubes remaining on the field of battle. 

As they cleared, so did the view to show Borg ships warping out. 

“Cheers erupted all around as the sight pushed one simple fact to the surface … They had survived what would become known as “the passage through hell” and “the day the lost fleets returned.” 

But Hauk knew the battle might now be over, but tending to their wounded and those in distress was only beginning. 

And for that, they would need help.  

“Open a channel to Starfleet Command.” 

Ka’nej Hauk 

Respectfully, 

–Alan Tripp

Aka. “Ka’nej Hauk”  

–— OUT OF STORY —

Thus ends the Darkstar series which brings the various elements of Darkstar Command into the STO timeline.

Next story will be a postscript epilogue between this post and the next set.

The post Darkstar: “End of the Tunnel” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

By Alan Tripp

Scene: Main Bridge, U.S.S. Excalibur

Consoles exploded, bridge crew lay dying while others fought to either keep the key stations manned or fought to save those dying or to extinguish the flames. 

VADM Ka’nej Hauk’s eyes drifted by a moment to the severed head of the borg drone that lay in the middle of the command well, just feet from the centerseat. 

They had been boarded, crew assimilated, and the ship suffered massive damage with one nacelle already a trail of space debris trailing away in their wake. 

But that was only one moment in time … a tiny glimpse of the grand battle playing out before them. 

And even though Klingon to his fingertips, Hauk was sick of battle.  

His warriors heart had cooled with the loss of too many of those under his command … the loss of too many of his friends. 

Punctuating that thought, the tactical console exploded behind him, showering him with a rain of sparks. 

But Hauk ignored the pain, choosing instead to concentrate on the present moment and how to survive to see the next and the next ones thereafter. 

After a final runthrough of the incoming data stream of the battle surrounding them and status of the Starfleet vessels and their allies, the gruff warrior’s fingers danced across his small tactical console. 

He transmitted final destination commands to the various surviving transporter rooms and cargo bays equipped with operating transporter pads.  

As he rose from his chair, he opened the shipwide comm even as his other hand reached for the hilt of his bloodied sword. 

After all, when fighting the Borg, a good sword cut through their personal shields like butter. 

“All hands, grab your weapons and abandon ship,” he ordered. 

“I repeat, abandon ship,” he continued. “The Excalibur is lost but we can still help our comrades on those other ships by continuing our fight by their side.” 

“Report to transporter rooms, shuttle bays and shuttle pods,” he ordered.”Whatever is closest, but get your asses off this ship posthaste.” 

The channel closed as he kicked the head out of the way. 

“Helm … Set course that large tactical cube forward-starboard, set the autopilot and then come with me.”  

Mere minutes later, the bridge of the Excalibur faded from view as the bridge’s emergency transporter systems beamed what was left of the bridge crew away. 

Another smaller bridge faded into view as they rematerialized. 

Hauk took a deep breath, thankful they had been correct in their assessment. 

A breach along the aft half of the bridge dome cost the Excelsior II-class cruiser it’s command crew who were sucked out into space along with Borg attackers hellbent on assimilation. 

The forcefield had clicked on seconds too late to save the crew, allowing needed air to fill the command center even if the command crew were long gone. 

“Everyone to their stations and give me a situation report,” Hauk ordered. 

He moved down into the command well, settling quickly into the new centerseat  … clicking an open ship’s channel as he did so. 

“This is Vice-Admiral Ka’nej Hauk. … I’m sorry to report Capt. Richards and bridge crew are no more, so I’m assuming direct command over the Timber Wolf. All departments report in to the bridge as to status and combat readiness.” 

As the channel closed, he noted a shadow passing underneath, forming into the familiar form of the massive hull of the shattered U.S.S. Excalibur. 

Her path collided with a pair of Borg spheres, yet she kept going. 

And then an explosion. 

Excalibur pierced the tactical command cube like blade thrust into a body. 

Her dual warp cores went critical, taking the cube with it in a blinding flash. 

“She was a good ship,” Hauk whispered to himself, surprised a tear was welling up in the corners of his eyes.

But he shook that off. Time for it later.

The spreading explosive waves and debris spread quickly outward, consuming remaining Borg vessels in the process. 

Today was a good day to live. 

The warrior flipped open a channel to the fleet. 

“This is VAdm. Hauk,” he stated. 

“I’ve transferred my command and flag to the Timber Wolf and will be coordinating from here. All ships rally to us as able and let’s make the final push to send these bastards back to the hell that spawned them.” 

Respectfully, 

–Alan Tripp

Aka. “Ka’nej Hauk”  

—OUT OF STORY—

Thus ends an era from the past as the flagship of SF Harbour Command goes up in a blaze of glory.

Excalibur was a ship very dear to my heart. May she rest in peace.

The post Darkstar: “The Blade Shatters”  appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

By Alan Tripp

–

Scene: Main Bridge, U.S.S. Beowulf

—Last Time—

“Where who went, Captain?” asked Sar at tactical, the Romulan’s expression one of curiosity.

“Starfleet’s original 27th Expeditionary Fleet,” Alan Sollace answered. “Aka. ‘The Lost Fleet.’”  

—And Now—

“It’s one of the great mysteries,” he continued. 

“An entire fleet went missing while out on some sort of mission,” the captain explained. 

“Official story was training maneuvers, but most believe they were on some sort of covert mission.”

“We too had a fleet that went missing around that time,” the Romulan tactical officer, Sar, noted. 

She shuddered slightly. 

“It was all covered up, and any talk of it was squashed to the point of you’d not speak of it out of fear of disappearing.”  

“It appears they went to do battle with one another and something happened with that … anomaly …. Event … Whatever it was and dragged them here as it did us,” Alan speculated. 

He then pointed at the screen. 

“And that Starfleet captain I do believe is a distant relative … several generations removed.” 

That’s when the klaxons sounded … the one marking attempted unauthorized beam ins. 

Sar’s fingers crossed her panel as she absorbed the readings. 

“Borg are trying to punch through our shields to beam in. … So far, they’ve been unsuccessful.” 

“But we all know that might not last,” he noted. 

“Break out the swords and knives,” he ordered. 

—

Scene: Main Bridge, U.S.S. Sam Houston

“We’ve got Borg punching through our shields, Captain,” Lt. Apojyn reported calmly. 

She’d trained her people well, one lesson being to maintain a sense of calm even in battle.

“So far deck five is the only breach,” the Bajoran added.

“Break out the swords and the knives,” she ordered. 

—

 Scene: Main Bridge, U.S.S. Beowulf

“Swords?” asked the chief tactical officer. 

“Swords,” Alan said. 

“During my first mission aboard the U.S.S. Nelson …,” Alan continued.

—U.S.S. Sam Houston—

“… we encountered a lone Borg Cube,” Ahlayna continued, speaking to Houston’s chief tactical officer. 

—U.S.S. Beowulf—

“They boarded the ship …” said Alan. “… and while helping repel them, I made use of this family sword,” he patted the sword at his side.

—U.S.S. Sam Houston—

Ahlayna reached up to touch the hilt of the sword strapped to her back.

“Who would have thought that something as simple as a bladed weapon would slice through the Borg personal shields like a knife through butter,” she said. 

“So, pull out what’s stored in the armory and replicate whatever else needed …” 

—U.S.S. Beowulf—

“… and tell the crew to not be afraid to use them if it comes down to being assimilated and sticking them with the pointy end,” Alan finished. 

Thinking of the Nelson brought back fond memories of that ship and crew, but he quickly pushed those thoughts from his head. 

They had a threat to deal with and then something occurred to him. 

The ships of the Lost Fleet would have no idea who the Borg were, what they represented and how to meet that threat. 

“Frak,” he muttered before turning to communications. 

“Contact the Excalibur and tell them we are going to talk with the older ships and brief them on the Borg threat,” he ordered. “Then get me the captain of the U.S.S. Red Wolf.” 

— OUT OF STORY —

Alan Sollace is the older male version of Ahlayna Sollace. Both are technically the same person, but from different realities … different timelines.

The added twist is that in the STO universe, Sollace was born female.

The post Darkstar: “Break out the cutlery” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

By Alan Tripp

–

The bridge of the U.S.S. Thunder Strike was a hive of flurried activity. 

“YES! YES! YES!”

Capt. Urshyra Sollace swiveled her command chair to look towards Lesli Mestre, currently climbing out from the innards of one of the starboard side consoles. 

The chief engineer had a satisfied smirk on her face as she checked readings while confirming momentarily with someone unseen, elsewhere on the ship. 

“Good news?” asked the captain. 

“In that sensors are operational again as is the main viewer.” 

The forward viewscreen flickered to life showing ships … a LOT of ships … out there in the space beyond and surrounding them. 

The anomaly was gone, but those ships out there weren’t just the Starfleet and Romulan fleets that just minutes before had been in the heat of battle. 

Ships out there now included what seemed Starfleet in style but vastly different from any vessel that she knew of currently in the fleet. 

And was that one beyond Klingon? … And what were those damned geometrically shaped things out there? … Ships of some kind? 

[“We are the Borg. … You will be assimilated. … Resistance is futile.”] 

“Who the fuck are the Borg?” Delza sputtered without realizing it. 

“That’s one of the things we are going to have to figure out,” Urshyra said, ignoring the language for the moment. 

As if on cue, the ship rocked as a beam of green light connected them to one of the cube shaped. 

The Andorian’s fingers danced across her console. 

“Tractor beam, Captain,” Delza called out. 

From across the view screen a massive ship in a Starfleet configuration sliced between their ship and the Cube, phasers slicing out the second of Cube where the beam’s emitter had previously originated. 

As the ship rotated, the name U.S.S. Excalibur was clearly visible across the ship’s saucer as was a registry of NCC-172664. 

That caused an eyebrow to raise. 

“THAT is a lot of digits,” helmsman Johnson whispered. “Where the hell are we?” 

“The proper question might be … ‘WHEN the hell are well?’” returned their science officer, Norovek. 

Delivery of the comment was as deadpan as you’d expect from any member of the science chief’s species. 

“I’ve cross checked star positions and determined we have most likely traveled through time, Captain,” she continued. “Although I can’t say exactly how far forward or backwards that might have been.” 

“Most likely forward with all those digits,” Urshyra muttered absently. 

Toss in the fact just minutes previously, she’d watched as the Excalibur … the NCC-1664 … had fallen victim to the Romulans. 

Still … Who the F were these Borg?

“Captain, receiving a hail. … It’s the Romulans,” 

“Main viewer,” she ordered.

She involuntarily straightened her uniform and in her seat just prior to the view changing to that of a female Romulan that seemed to wear the rank of a ship Commander. 

Urshyra bit her tongue and kept her voice as neutral as possible. 

“What can we do for you, Commander …?” 

[“Commander Daenerys of the warbird Elessar, Captain …???”]

“Capt. Urshyra Sollace … commanding the U.S.S. Thunder Strike.” 

[“…Capt. Sollace. … I suggested that we set aside our … differences … for the moment and see if we can work together to survive … Whatever this is.”]

It didn’t take a Vulcan to see the logic in the plan.  Besides, it would give them one less enemy to fight when you had an unknown like these Borg ready to … What did they call it? … “Assimilate” you? 

“I think we can agree to that.”

As a sign of good faith, she swiveled her chair slightly towards communications. 

“Henson, signal our ships not to engage with the Romulans for the moment.” 

Then turned back towards the viewer. 

“What do you suggest?” 

[“That we act jointly … Gather our ships together to face off and stand against these aliens.”]

“And the other ships out there?” 

A smile tugged at the corner of the Romulan’s face. 

[“One threat at a time, Captain. … One threat at a time.”]

—

Meanwhile, on the bridge of the Excelsior II-class U.S.S. Beowulf, another communication’s officer swiveled in her chair. 

“Captain, I just intercepted a transmission between a Romulan ship and one of those older Starfleet ships you might want to hear.”

“Don’t I have enough going on already?” Alan half joked. 

He’d been studying damage reports being fed to him by his first officer while also listening to instructions dispatched to the fleet (at least those ships the Beowulf had been with before coming to this place) by the Admiral aboard the Excalibur who was trying to rally their forces to faceoff against the greater threat … the Borg. 

“Ok, let’s hear it,” he ordered.

The lower right corner of the main viewer shifted to show a pair of Romulan and Starfleet officers, both dressed in the outdated uniforms of ship commanders of a different era – two sides of a singular conversation. 

–
STARFLEET: [“What can we do for you, Commander …?”]

ROMULAN: [“Commander Daenerys of the warbird Elessar, Captain …???”]

STARFLEET: [“Capt. Urshyra Sollace … commanding the U.S.S. Thunder Strike.”]

Alan came out of his command chair at the name. 

ROMULAN: [“…Capt. Sollace. … I suggested that we set aside our … differences … for the moment and see if we can work together to survive … Whatever this is.”]

STARFLEET: [“I think we can agree to that.”]

STARFLEET (to someone at the edge of the view): [“Henson, signal our ships not to engage with the Romulans for the moment.”] 

Then the Starfleet captain turned back towards the viewer. 

STARFLEET: [“What do you suggest?”] 

ROMULAN: [“That we act jointly … Gather our ships together to face off and stand against these aliens.”]

STARFLEET: [“And the other ships out there?”] 

ROMULAN: [“One threat at a time, Captain. … One threat at a time.”]   

And then both faded from the screen.

“So THIS is where they went!” Alan said to myself, although loud enough still to be heard. 

More than a few faces turned his way.

“Where who went, Captain?” asked Sar at tactical, the Romulan’s expression one of curiosity.

“Starfleet’s original 27th Expeditionary Fleet. … aka. ‘The Lost Fleet.’”  

—– OUT OF STORY —–

AT LAST! …. I’ve been trying to reach the point that the Lost Fleet would not just become lost but actually get found. It’s the first step to me getting these captains and ships to their new timelines.

The post Darkstar: “The Borg and the Missing” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

By Alan Tripp

–

“Captain! … We’ve got a live one over here!” Jenkins yelled from across the bridge, his tricorder sounding that singular ping of detection.

Shallana picked her way across the shattered remains of this ship’s bridge trying to reach her crewman and the survivor he’d found. 

About halfway across the command well, her commbadge pinged. 

[“Captain, a word with you I must have.”]

“What is it, Commander?” 

Commander Adoy had been with her for many years now to a point she no longer saw him as her first officer, but as family. 

His timing was never the best, however, and his news seldom a positive. 

[“Beamed off survivors from uncaminated decks, we have. Borg circling, they are. Boarding us, begun they have.”] 

His speech patterns were a bit different, but had a sing-song quality to them … once you got use to it. 

“Make sure security teams are suitably armed and initiate Borg-Tango-Tango-Delta defensive countermeasures,” she ordered. “Don’t lose my ship while I’m gone.” 

She glanced in passing at the ship’s dedication plaque which lay scorched on the decking nearby … “U.S.S. Temporal Storm” … “Premonition-class”.

“Have any boarded this ship as yet?” she asked, almost to Jenkins. 

[“Yet … they have not.  Bigger prizes to claim, they have.”] 

“Again … Protect the ship and defend the crew at ALL costs,” she ordered. “And maintain those transporter locks!” 

Jenkins punctuated the sound of the channel closing with the clatter of tossing debris to one side as he worked to dig out the humanoid below. 

Shallana joined his efforts, both working together til the face of a human woman wearing a captain’s pips and a variant of a Starfleet uniform different from their own. 

Flipping out her own tricorder, the readings cleared with proximity to the victim. 

Injuries severe … ranging from cracked ribs, brushed organs, crushed legs, internal bleeding and a head injury. 

As she touched the woman’s face, the woman stirred, opening her eyes and focusing on her for just a moment. 

“Mother,” she whispered. “I knew … you’d … come for … me …” 

Before darkness again claimed her. 

But at her voice, a chill ran down Shallana Ironwolf’s spine. 

Brushing away more debris with a purpose, she found the lady’s commbadge and flipped it over. 

Emblazoned on the back was the name of this injured captain … Brianna Carys Llewellyn. 

Her daughter’s name. … The nine-year-old daughter she’d left back on earth a few weeks ago for her to spend time with their family … the girl’s grandmother specifically. 

Shallana’s heart raced as a mother’s panic and fear for their child took hold. 

This was impossible.  IM…POSSIBLE!!!

With fevered speed, she rushed to clear the debris as the tricorder’s recording of the woman’s heartbeat faltered. 

NO NO NO NO!!!!

Her own breathing caught in her throat. Her own heart beat so fast she would swear later it stopped. 

Shallana clicked her badge before pinning it to Bri. 

“ADOY! … LOCK ONTO MY BADGE …. BEAM ONE TO SICKBAY NOW NOW NOW NOW!” 

OUT OF STORY

This is a short one … One quiet (if you can call it that) moment before the words toss us into the heat of battle and the fight they must wage to save themselves.

The post Darkstar: “Within the Calm of the Storm” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

By Alan Tripp

–

2402

”What in the hell is that?” Allen called out from the command chair of the Fenrir. 

“Level 12 shockwave originating from …” 

The science officer had no chance to finish his report as the shockwave seemed to pounce with blinding speed striking the gathered fleet like a brick wall against a car only in this case it was the wall moving and not the cars parked before it. 

Fenrir was but one of several ships dispatched to investigate the spreading anomaly. 

They’d arrived together just moments before when suddenly said anomaly … attacked. 

Allen Ironforge had seen many days in his life but never something like the beast before them. 

The starfield spun in a dizzying array on the main viewer as the Excelsior II variant moved like a billiard ball when the pack spread across the table following the initial break of the balls at the start of a game. 

“Helm,” he called out … climbing back into his chair. “Get this fucking ship under control NOW!” 

On the screen, two starships closer to the epicenter exploded into bristling fireballs while another had a nacelle sheered off completely.

“Turn us into the wave,” he added. 

As the ship slowly began to right itself and turn back towards the anomaly, said special anomaly had transformed into something of a maelstrom, complete with plasma lightning and shockwaves at random intervals. 

Sensors showed the positions of the various ships in the task force as they began to fall towards the epicenter of the storm before them. 

Ironforge wanted to issue another command to his crew even if to tell them all that maybe they should kiss their collective asses goodbye, but before another word of command or reassurance could be spoken, the storm magnified its intensity, grabbed all of the fleet and sucked them into the maw of its mouth before resealing the rupture to the fabric of time and space like the windows of a hurricane might suck shut a door it had just moments before kicked up with the bruital force of its deadly winds. 

After six months of searching, Starfleet Command would have no choice but to report them all missing and presumed killed. 

—

Hidden in Time

Capt. Brianna Llewellyn drummed her fingers on the arm of her command chair. 

It had all been building to this. 

She watched events playing out in what seemed realtime via a holo-display of the timeline that floated before her in the heart of the command well of Temporal Storm’s main bridge. 

They were currently tracking the convergence of several fleets currently traveling through …. Or maybe tumbling through would be a more apt description … unstable conduit or temporal wormhole that seemed to reach out like an octopus to snatch more prey as it hurled towards the final destination. 

Her fingers drummed on the arm of her chair.  

It was almost time.  … Almost. 

—

Another Time, Another Reality

Shallana had been given command of the operation, guiding the fleet from the vantage point of the Highlander’s bridge. 

“Initiate deflector beam …. NOW!”, she called out over an open fleet channel. 

The floating tactical display showed each ship positioned at various points surrounding the spreading pool of the anomaly. Including above and below. 

[“How long do we have to maintain the beam?”] Alan Sollace asked over the open channel. 

Hearing his voice caused Shallana’s eyes to drift to the position of Alan’s command, the U.S.S. Beowulf. 

“For as long as it takes,” she replied. 

After several seconds, two sets of readings appeared right and left in the display above her. 

One in blue and one in red. 

The readings in blue showed that the beams were having an effect in the stability of the anomaly. 

The ones in red showed that instability was causing a rippling effect. 

And as the rippling effect spread, everything … every object … seemed to shimmer as if visually vibrating. 

That visual vibration grew to a point it seemed that her human eyes had taken on double vision as there now seemed a two of everything. 

The second of all at first seemed as a growing shadow that vibrated around each person, each object. 

But with each passing second, the effect grew more and more pronounced. 

[“What in Grethor’s name is happening?”] a Klingon voice called out over the channel. 

Ka’nej Hauk’s voice didn’t sound so much shocked, surprised or even irritated so much as … curious. 

But Shallana had no answers as she herself had no frakking idea. 

Yet as everything finally began to settling back down into singleness, the display now showed twice as many ships with dublicate readings of the fleet now appearing around the anomaly. 

There were now two of all ships. 

[“OUR DEFLECTOR IS STARTING TO BURN OUT!”], the voice of of Capt. Draqarys aboard the Thalesia.  [“WE CAN’T MAINTAIN THE BEAM!!”] 

“HOLD ON AND KEEP THOSE BEAMS ON THE ANOMALY!” Shallana called out to the now doubled fleet. “IT’S WORKING!” 

The anomaly was beginning to shrink.  

And the more it contracted the faster it went.

Also the more turbulent as waves of what seemed like tornadoes and lightning spawned all along a raging hurricane seemed to erupt. 

But it was over in mere moments as suddenly the anomaly seemed to collapse on itself and snapped closed like a door slamming shut. 

And with the slamming of that door, the newly formed twin fleet disappeared with it. 

It wasn’t long before the fleet was able to stand down with Shallana passing command back to the Admiral. 

— 

Meanwhile …

Shallana witnessed the anomaly snap ship via both sensors and her tactical display and with it she and the fleet ship commanded for this operation were sucked out of known space/time and hurled down a rabbit hole of a temporal storm / conduit that had dragged through through the anomaly and then slammed it shut behind itself. 

And with it, she realized the twin copies of themselves had disappeared, most likely safe and sound on the safe side of the now closed doorway. 

The Highlander groaned under the stress of her passage along these unknown turbulent pathways they were being dragged along against their will. 

In her display, three ships imploded into buts of shrapnel that spread across the wake of a fleet flung across who knows what to who knows where … 

“HANG ON!” She yelled, consoles exploding around the bridge.

They would be lucky to survive to reach their destination … wherever THAT might be. 

—

Hidden in Time

Brianna continued to watch the display when certain events in the timeline shifted out of temporal alignment. 

“No No No No NO!”

She came out of her seat for a better look. 

One apparent new pebble tossed into the river prepared to uproot everything they’d worked to achieve. 

But who tossed the pebble? 

The timeline continued to shift along new pathways, leaving but one choice. 

They had one more thing to do. 

—

2408

The U.S.S. Sam Houston drifted alone through the void when all of a sudden alarm klaxons began sounding all across the Shangri-La II-class starship. 

Capt. James Draljo Henry held firm to his chair, resisting the urge to rise. 

When facing the unknown, the half Rigellian / half human captain had learned the hard way that rising during an alert klaxon tended to known said commanding officer onto his arse. 

So he held his chair. 

“Tactical, what have you got?”, his voice calm and measured despite the background wail of the alert klaxon. 

“Vortex opening ahead of us, captain,” Sollace reported just as calmly. 

This wasn’t their first rodeo dance with the unknown. 

However, when the forward view zeroed in on the anomaly and that anomaly began spitting objects out with increasing speed and force, one could feel the tension levels begin to rise around the bridge. 

“Objects coming out with increasing velocity,” S’Rasian called from the science station. 

At first, the caitians tail maintained a steady swish behind the Chief Science Officer, however that quickly changed to rigid and still. 

“Now reading metallic debris consistent with hull materials common to starships,” the feline continued. 

“Captain, I’m registering whole starships coming through …. Starfleet, Romulan, Klingon …. BORG!” 

“Battlestations!” The captain yelled, unable to keep himself from rising out of his chair. 

On the monitor, the anomaly spread outwards like a shockwave with blinding speed. 

No one had time to react as it plowed through the Houston’s shields and tossed the ship backwards like an angry kid tossing a ragdoll. 

James Henry knew he should have stayed in his chair as he felt himself flying through air with his command chair passing beneath him. 

He made a grab for the chair. Really, he did. But it was just out of reach or his timing was a second too late as it was gone as soon as it was seen. 

And then the world went black. 

—

Lt. Cmdr. Ahlayna Sollace dragged herself back up to her feet from where she lay on the decking. 

Tactical station was smashed beyond repair. 

Seeing this, her eyes quickly scanned the rest of the bridge, assessing the damage like a seasoned tactical officer.  

Then her eyes found the mutilated body of her captain buried in the debris of what had been the aft station at the very back of the bridge. 

A quick glance told her all she needed to know. 

He’d been hurled over his command chair, over her tactical station (herself included) and plowed with incredible force into the station behind her own. 

The impact had most likely snapped his neck as it pulverized bones and twisted the man’s body into impossible angles. 

Captain dead, she looked over towards where the first officer normally sat. 

First Officer had faired better than the captain, but only in that her body had not been broken and pulverized. 

No, she’d received shrapnel to the back of the head, most likely from flying remains of the console destroyed by the captain’s body. 

The first officer likely didn’t even know what hit her. 

Ahlayna took a moment to figure out who to look to … who was in command now … when she realized … she was. 

Those members of the bridge crew still able to do so climbed back into their seats or back up to their stations. 

Considering her own station was non-existent and considering the captain and first officer were both dead, the chief tactical officer / second officer slipped into the center seat, pushing the thoughts of grief and horror from her mind as she had a ship to tend to. 

She looked to the forward monitor just in time to see the remains of a Borg cube spiraling through space like an out of control freight train that had jumped the tracks. 

First thought was amazement as the Borg had been eradicated by Picard and his people aboard the Enterprise D a few years ago. 

But those thoughts were short loved as that runaway freight train of a cube was on a collision course with their ship and no time to get the hell out of its way. 

“EVASIVE MANUVEURS!!!!” 

She yelled the words anyway even as she steeled herself knowing they were all about to join the captain in the afterlife. 

From the top of the view screen front of the bridge, a shadow descended from above with torps and phasers dancing even as Ahlayna herself felt a shimmer in the core of her existence begin to shift and change. 

It was a strange sensation to say the least and not quite what she’d been expecting her last moments to be like. 

A captain for all of one minute and twenty-two seconds she through to herself, yet that shifting sensation magnified just everything began to ripple. 

It was of course a fraction of a second we’re talking about here but then when one faces death, things sometimes seem to slow down. 

Do they not? 

— 

2408

“Fire!” 

Captain Llewellyn held firm to the armrests of her command chair even as her commands were carried out. 

Torpedoes and phasers lanced out and danced their way towards the out of control Borg cube even as the view on the viewer slowly rotated 180ish degrees. 

On her exist from the temporal vortex generated by the temporal core of the U.S.S. Temporal Storm, they’d been forced to rotate the ship to both avoid incoming debris and to shift into a position to save their version of the timeline.  

Or at least save it enough so that they pieces remained on the board with a chance of preserving it at the very least. 

Torps and phasers ripped into the hull of the cube, shattering it a big cube crafted from the LEGO toy blocks she’d played with as a kid. Said cube being smashed by a massive sledge hammer at any rate. 

The cube broke apart but only into still massive pieces that were still much too big to accomplish the goal they set out to accomplish. 

On top of what was looking like failures, a large chunk of cube smashed into the temporal core located normally above the primary hull of the Premonition-class starship causing said core to rupture, causing a ripple effect with unknown consequences to be unleashed on the timeline. 

“Shite,” the Brianna said from her chair, helpless to do anything but watch events now unfold as the temporal cruiser spun off on a new course in an uncontrolled tumble across the path of the incoming fleets of ships, debris and who knew what else. 

—

The changes Ahlayna and the Sam Houston were already in motion before and when the the temporal wave from the unknown starship that had tried to save them, colliding  with one of the large chunks of cube in the process.

The shimmering and shifting was now within her very existence as suddenly new memories began to find their way into who she was as an individual and person. 

She was now remembering events and part of a life that differed from the one originally lived … at least from her original point of view. 

Around her, the existence of the Sam Houston shifted and changed as the bridge took on a mirage effect and for a moment seemed as if two different designs trying to superimpose themselves over one another … trying to coexist in the same moment of space and time. 

One finally won out over the other, however, as the bridge she’d originally known faded from existence to become one different and slightly smaller. 

On her collar the black / hollow pip of a lieutenant command became the full gold of a commander with herself sitting more firmly in what was most definitely HER command seat. 

A chunk of Borg cube tumbled towards them with force and course that would surely have destroyed the Shangri-La-class version of the Sam Houston along with what remained of her crew. 

If it were still the Shangri-La class. 

Just as Ahlayna had shifted and changed, so had the Houston along with those aboard her. 

The smaller, experimental Okinawa II-class frigate rolled lengthwise hard to port with incredible speed as the quickstep thrusters worked as designed, moving the ship with speed and grace most starships lacked. 

The tech was cutting edge via Daystrom Spaceframe Industries and being tested for the first time in the field with Sam Houston as the testbed for it … and other newer more experimental tech. 

The ship’s captain gripped the arms of her chair harder than normal, fighting down waves of nausea as she came to terms with her new set of memories and all that came with it. 

Looking behind her, she noted there was indeed no body of one Capt. James Henry as James Henry was not the commanding officer of this version of the Sam Houston in the current / altered timeline. 

She was. 

—

Even as the U.S.S. Highlander cruised through normal space on its way back to its home port in  another year / another reality, a temporal copy of that same ship and crew came erupting from the space time breach with incredible speed and force … along with what remained of their fleet. 

Shallana Ironwolf couldn’t keep herself from coughing from the acrid smoke as the bridge filled with smoke. 

Only when fears of being tossed around subsided did she bolt from her chair to see to injured crew and ship. 

The monitor had moments of static, but eventually stabilized into a relatively clear image of volcano like rupture spewing starships … both somewhat intact like hers as well as debris. 

It also spewed large chunks of rock that the back of her mind speculated might have been pulled from an asteroid field somewhere, sometime. 

She stepped over a member of her crew with the vacant eyed stare of death to reach another living member even as she tapped her comm badge. 

“Bridge to sickbay.  We have wounded most like everywhere on the ship, but send a team to the bridge as well as we definitely have them up here.” 

“Don’t move til we can get you scanned,” she ordered. “If you have a spinal injury, last thing we want to do is make it worse.” 

—

The Borg Queen watched the displays floating around where she was in the queen’s chamber aboard her ship. 

She saw many of her ships damaged or in pieces, but also saw many fully intact. 

Their fleet had been sucked into the same phenomenon that resulted (as far as she could determine) from when Species 3783 fired a new yet unstable weapon that impacted in the vincity of one of her Borg’s new exit aperture’s. 

The resulting explosion of both weapon and aperture caused a 1 in a million eruption in space time that sent spread across the timeline snatching everything in its path and depositing all here in what for her was the future. 

And there was something strange about this future. … There were no Borg signals present here that she as queen could tap, connect and interact with. 

As far as she could tell, they were all that existed of the Borg Collective in this so called future. 

Not that it mattered, she was here now as were several others of her collective. 

They would simply assimilate and rebuild … using the echoes she could find that proved there were elements of a former collective left intact. 

They just needed a new queen … her … to reawaken them. 

She sent her thoughts out to her collective as it surrounded her, ordering those ships intact to follow her now and those who could not follow to repair what of their ships they could, assimilate the surrounding species and ships … and then join her after having done so. 

— 

Brianna watched as the Borg Queen’s ship left with those ships of the Collective able to follow her, realizing in that moment that the flaw in her calculations had been in not considering Borg involvement. 

And now a new Borg Queen was being unleashed on a timeline and galaxy that had worked hard to irraticate them just a few years before this one. 

—

Down deep in the belly of the U.S.S. Sam Houston, a humanoid figure dressed in black packed up the last of his gear and gave the room (and ship) a final look before activating the device that would transport away and back from whence he came. 

He’d come here with a purpose and that purpose had been successfully done. 

Accomplished his goal in helping it … her … to survive. 

It was all that could be done in this particular time, in this particular place. 

The rest was up to them now. 

May the gods be with them. … With them all. 

A press if his thumb, the recall devise hummed to life, winking him and his gear away and back him. 

— 

Ahlayna Sollace listened as a new voice erupted over her speakers. 

It was a voice heard by her previously only in recordings and one that even then had radiated a chill up and down her spine. 

Something thought buried deep so as to never be heard again. 

[“We are the Borg. … You will be assimilated. … Resistance is futile.”]

—

Respectfully, 

— Ka’nej Hauk

Out of Story

At long last, the past (and future) catches up with the present as I’ve brought all the players to the same time, the same place.

Next story is already being written.

The post Darkstar: “Eruptions in Space-Time” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

— 2294 —

“CAPTAIN! WE’VE LOST THE EXCALIBUR!” 

Capt. Urshyra Sollace saw the explosion on the lower right edge of the view screen.

That ship simply seemed destined to be cursed. 

First, the M5 computer incident with the Enterprise …. all hands lost … and now this. 

From the bridge of the U.S.S. Thunder Strike, they watched in a split second of silence as debris spread outward in all directions. 

A Romulan warbird veered sharply away from the spreading remains of the Constitution-class, seeming to think twice about cruising through the expanding wreckage as subspace rippled outward from the point of the explosion. 

The enemy had turned to the use of some new form of chronometric-based isolytic subspace weaponry, and it was ripping the Federation assault fleet to shreds. 

“Shift targeting to that warbird,” Urshyra ordered, seeking a bit of payback for the Excalibur. 

As commanded, phaser bolts sliced through the distance to strike the warbird amid ship even. 

It was enough to weaken shields on that quarter enough that a large chunk of debris broke through, smashing into the warbird’s hull. 

And even as the warbird spun on her axis and into a spin, it was not quick enough to stop them from firing their new torpedoes.

The struck secondary hull of the U.S.S. Hiroshima.

Shields seemed not to matter as subspace warped and distorted around one of the most powerful ships in the Federation fleet, ripping through shields and crushing the hull in dramatic fashion. 

In retaliation, another Federation dreadnought in their armada … the U.S.S. Star Empire … caught the warbird from the stern, making use of the opportunity opened up by the Thunder Strike and the Excalibur’s debris. 

But the exploding warbird was but one in a fleet of Romulan ships – a fleet built for invasion. 

Starfleet had hoped a preemptive strike would catch the Romulans off-guard, ending the threat to the Federation before it had truly begun. 

But as good as their intelligence gathering had been, no one had prepared them for the enemy’s new weaponry. 

These were weapons the Federation had yet learn about, let alone see in action. 

So they had no adequate defenses. 

“Helm … Zero-Nine-Three downward angle into Attack Pattern Delta Four,” Urshyra ordered. 

Commander Vaenerys sat center chair of the I.R.W. Elessar, watching the devastation their fleet was enacting on the Federation attackers. 

And she was no fool. 

Vaenerys knew they were only attacking as a preemptive strike against the Romulan Imperial forces assembled in this place before these forces could begin an invasion of Federation space. 

Thus was the path the new elements controlling the Romulan government had set them on. 

It was an invasion that Vaenerys herself did not condone, but one she was ordered to participate in regardless. 

She was a naval officer. NOT Tal Shiar, and like many in the naval forces lived by a strict code of honor … mnhei’sahe.

This attack violated that sense of honor. …. What had they become? 

And she knew there were many within this fleet who felt as she did. 

But who were they to question the will of their government? 

Coming up from astern, the Elessar now had the Federation starship “Thunder Strike” in their sights with their finger hovering over the firing button. 

 All it would take was a simple pressing of a single button and their new torpedoes would arc through space, collide with the hull of that ship and cause disruptions in subspace on a temporal level that would rip their enemy apart on a near quantum level. 

Their enemy. … Where these Starfleeters truly their enemy? 

She like many had heard the stories of another Romulan ship commander, one Ael t’Rllailleu, who had taken her ship across the line and sided with Starfleet in a stand against this new Romulan regime. 

She and the crew of the I.R.W. Bloodwing were said to still be out there somewhere acting as rebels. 

Acts of defiance that defended the TRUE honor of the Romulan people. 

Acts of defiance … 

With a sigh, Vaenerys reached down and input commands into the interface built into the chair’s arm. 

She pressed that button. 

[“Weapons fire and spatial disruptions detected in proximity to Borg aperture six-nine-two-five-five.”]

This caused the Borg Queen to look up and turn her head as she hung suspended in air above the queen’s chamber aboard the octahedron-shaped starship. 

Aperture six-nine-two-five-five was a new creation only recently brought online, yet not completely operational. 

There were … as some species would call it … quirks in its operating parameters that had yet to be isolated and corrected. 

It was one of the new set of apertures connected directly to this recently constructed transwarp hub – a hub designed to open up new pathways of assimilation within this newly reached part of the galaxy. 

The Queen had brought her ship here specifically to help her drones directly in isolating the problems that had crept into the operating parameters of this new extension of their network. 

Reaching out her mind, several ships dispatched from the main complex to investigate. 

With a sigh, Vaenerys reached down and input commands into the interface built into the chair’s arm. 

She pressed that button. 

Orders were orders, after all. 

The torpedoes leapt from the warbird’s forward-facing tubes and closed the distance between them and the as yet unaware Red Wolf. 

Acts of Defiance … 

Those same torpedoes missed their mark, passing instead downward and underneath the Federation cruiser. 

It hadn’t helped that the ship’s commander had altered targeting alignment ever-so-slightly. 

It was enough to send the orbs streaking past their target to explode a safe distance from the target – close enough to give that crew an incredible shake and rattle, but not enough to shred their ship. 

Her first officer, sub-commander Maq’betlh, glanced across from his station, caught her eye and gave a slight nod of understanding. 

They’d spent many nights in shared conversation about Ael and the Bloodwing. 

Then all Areinnye broke loose. 

That’s when all Hell broke loose. 

The enemy should have had them dead to rights, but instead the torpedo’s trajectory was too low causing the weapon to pass underneath their hull and explode what should have been a safe distance away. 

However, the … event? … eruption? … Whatever it was that was spilling out from what could best be described as a breach was a shockwave unlike anything previously seen.

“WARP DRIVE!” Urshyra yelled followed by. “ALL DECKS! … BRACE! BRACE! BRACE!” 

It was only because the helmsman was one to have all escape options available at his fingertips should retreat orders ever be given in battles such as this. 

As soon as her captain’s orders left her lips, Lesli’s fingers keyed the drive sending them into warp. 

At least, that’s what should have happened. 

Yes, the ship picked up speed, and it did obtain enough distance to keep them from being at the epicenter of the shockwave … enough to keep them from crumbling under the initial forces but not enough to keep most of the crew from being jarred around and thrown from seats and stations. 

Consoles blew around the bridge as Urshyra crawled back to her chair, fighting what felt like intense gravitational forces. 

Climbing back into her chair, she looked to the viewscreen just in time to see everything in the area … Starfleet, Romulans, ship debris, asteroids … all of it … being sucked into epicenter of the event and away from everything they’d ever known. 

— Out of Story —

And here we have the first part of the story as two fleets suddenly have more to think about than the battle they previously waged.  

The post Darkstar: “And so it Begins” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

By Alan Tripp

— Somewhere In Time —

“Steering this is just like steering a starship,” muttered Brianna Llewellyn to herself. 

Her words referred to steering this version of reality through the seas of time to cement this alternate reality to the proper flow of time. 

And if all worked as hoped, this just might give this version of her home galaxy a fighting chance. 

The young captain’s eyes flowed across the timestream, watching it shift like the great currents of a massive ocean. 

She might be a young captain, but it’s amazing what one can learn and do when everything was riding on it.

Her command, the U.S.S. Temporal Storm, was one of the last ships of the fleet where she came from. 

“I will be fucking damned if I allow the bloody Iconians to wipe out every damn thing I’ve ever known yet again,” she muttered tersely. “At least this version of it all at any rate.” 

It was a reality that when she needed another to flee too, she’d found by following the trail of her own father … a father she’d never known … whose ship had fallen through the cracks between realities.

“That temporal cloak of yours is a rather ingenious bit of technology,” called a voice behind her. 

Any less seasoned officer might have been caught off guard and surprised. 

But again, she’d seen too much in her short career and had too much to lose to be caught dimwitted.

“Trust me, this is for your own good,” she told the newcomer. 

“The Temporal Prime directive says you do not have that right,” he returned. 

“Watch the Iconians destroy the bulk of the civilized universe and see how fast that Temporal Prime directive goes out the window,” she retorted hotly.

The figure raised a pistol and leveled it at Brianna. 

“Daniels, put that damn thing down and shut up and listen for once in your life,” another more gruff voice called out. “And remember your manners.”

A grizzled looking Klingon stepped through the outer circle of the represented timestream, moving into view. 

“This is her temporal observatory, NOT yours,” he tossed at the one called Daniels before turning towards Bree. 

“I’m Rha … a temporal agent with the Klingon Empire,” he said in way of an introduction. 

“And my counterpart is Daniels … temporal agent with the Federation,” he continued. 

He eyed Bree up and down. 

“Now tell us who you are, and why you’ve crossed into this version of reality,” Rha ordered. 

“Capt. Brianna Llwellyn in command of the Premonition-class, U.S.S. Temporal Storm,” she answered, clasping her hands behind her back. 

“One of the last Alliance ships left in operation when we turned tail and left,” she continued. 

“Now, why are you here?” Rha pressed. “I have an idea as to why, but he needs to hear it apparently.” 

Over the next several minutes, the ship’s captain shared the story of her home reality and how a race called the Iconians had invaded not to conquer, but to destroy everything in their path. 

Of how a desperate Alliance had used breakthroughs in temporal technologies to create ships outfitted with temporal drives so as to take the fight into their own timeline to try and change the events before they happened. 

However, the Iconians … who could not travel through time themselves … sent their servator races onto the temporal battlefield to fight them. 

It was odd that it was the Iconians protecting that timeline as the end results favored them, not those of the Alliance. 

And when civilization finally fell, Brianna had instituted a hail mary of a plan, following her father from one reality into another by making use of the Mycelial Network.   

Once here, she’d begun the work of shifting the timeline to do her best to stack the deck so this new reality at least had a fighting chance. 

Until now, a temporal cloak had hidden her ship while they’d set about their work. 

But that work when mixed with having broken through the wall of reality before that had taxed their temporal drive to the limit. 

Meaning the drive would not last much longer. 

But they’d set the pieces in the proper places on the game board with hopes the timeline might well be nudged in just the right directions. 

Daniels sputtered and muttered complaints and arguments until Rha silenced him once more. 

“Daniels, has it occurred to you that what this woman is doing might well be what is destined to happen in our timeline?” the Klingon asked his Starfleet counterpart.

He gestured in a sweep of his arm at the flowing timeline that circled the temporal chamber. 

“That all this is meant to happen and as such fixed points in time? … Look around you. Note anything in her version of the timeline dsisplays missing from our own?” 

Daniels grew thoughtful, considering the matter as he studied the displays and noted the differences in her readings verses those he’d last seen in his own. 

It was like looking at an early version when you’ve already seen the end results. 

Fixed points in the time stream. … Different points in the timestream. … Different points where reality shifts from one path to another as it diverges and shifts tracks. 

“How can you be so sure?” he asked finally. 

“Because I for one would like to survive the coming storm,” the temporal warrior said simply. 

Secretly, Brianna had buried the fear she’d being feeling, never allowing it to show. 

She’d known this day would come when they’d try to stop her, and she’d also known that such an action by them was one of the biggest obstacles that could well blow apart the house of cards she and her crew had built. 

But at Rha’s words, she began to have hope. 

“Wouldn’t you?” the Klingon pressed Daniels. “Wouldn’t you like to survive to see the future actually happen?” 

“You and I come from a ‘possible’ reality … and our winking out of existence hinges in my opinion on the outcome of events yet to happen,” he added. 

“At least from our perspective.”

The post Darkstar: “A Temporal Reckoning” 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.

by Alan Tripp (aka. Kanej Hauk)

In a reality far, far away

Vice Admiral Ka’nej Hauk crossed the threshold into the U.S.S. Excalibur’s Strategic Operations Center and kept going.

The Excalibur served as flagship of Starfleet’s Harbour Command.

Hauk paused in his journey as he passed the massive holographic display, stopping his feet treads only long enough to download the latest sensor readings onto his personal padd and then kept going. 

Across the room, two guards snapped to attention as he gave both a nod and crossed the threshold into the conference room. 

Several faces turned in his direction with each threatening to rise to their feet. 

“You know we’re not standing on formalities today,” the Klingon grumbled.

He motioned them to remain seated as he found his own along the circumference of the round table. 

Settling in, his eyes sought out first those of his Romulan wife, Valarys (his Juliet … as the Shakespearan story would have it), and then their daughter, Bahni’qin (or as the humans called her … “Bonnie-kin”) – both captains whose ships were responding to the crisis that seemed destined to re-unite them. 

And then there were his grandchildren … Arthyrra and Ulvyyr Sollace.

The Admiral’s daughter happened to have married another Starfleet officer … one Capt. Alan Sollace.

The pair had done things backwards in that they had their children and then a decade later (after an on again, off again relationship) had chosen to marry.

Sollace was due to arrive soon, but was not yet in the room.

But looking at his family all gathered among the others in the same room was a bright spot in what could be yet another looming disaster. 

He himself had been leading a small detachment of starships scouting out the location for a new starbase when it had been detected. … They’d just happened to be ships scattered at various surrounding points that had been within range to respond. 

 He allowed his eyes to linger but a heartbeat longer on his family before the flicker of their holographic projections via holo-communications reminded him of their still distance from one another and just why they were here. 

So his eyes shifted to scan all gathered. 

“As you know, we were scouting out a location for the proposed Marrakesh Station when the U.S.S. Highlander detected a spatial anomaly in search grid 35787,” he began.  

“As captain of that ship, Capt. Shallana Ironwolf is likely best to fill us in on what they found,” he continued. 

“Shallana, if you please.”

Shallana tapped her padd causing graphics to appear at the center table for all to see. 

What appeared was a massive rift in space that seemed more like a pool of energy had been simply poured into the weightlessness of the void and left to float. 

Rather peaceful if you ignored the random spikes of what could best be explained as “lightning” that would strike out like a thunderstorm building and growing steadily worse. 

Just looking at it conjured images of a massive hurricane threatening to unleash untold fury upon a developed coastline. 

 “From what we have been able to tell, this anomaly is a temporal rift that seems to cut through space, time and realities … all,” she stated. “Sending the specifics to each of you now.” 

“Do we know the point of origin?”

Shallana recognized the voice, it was Alan Sollace of the U.S.S. Beowulf. 

“Sorry, Alan. That is something that was beyond our sensors to detect,” Shallana answered. 

“All we know is that this thing is growing at a steady rate and although relatively isolated at the moment, it likely won’t stay that way.” 

“Which is why we’re gathering all of you,” the Vice Admiral added. 

“Indeed,” Shallana stated. “It was actually Capt. Ahlyya of the Seidr and her team that came up with a possible solution.” 

All eyes turned to the Starfleet Romulan captain, who seemed to be wearing a pair of sunglasses.

Ahlyya leaned forward, setting her padd on the table before her. 

Legally blind, those same glasses allowed her to see properly. 

In fact, they offered the scientist turned starship captain a digital readout and direct interface with computer systems as connected via her padd. 

“It is our belief that with enough starships, we can position ourselves at spaced intervals around the anomaly and generate resonance beams from our deflectors, striking as one with enough umph to force the edges of the tear back together and stitch it closed like a doctor handling a bad cut,” she explained. 

“And what if this thing ends up being to large to force closed and ‘stitch?,’” asked Capt. Draqarys of the U.S.S. Thalesia.  

“That would be why we’re all taxing our warp drives at the moment,” Ahlyya returned. 

“Questions?” the Admiral asked. 

“Wait a minute, isn’t this the location of that recently discovered stargate?” Alan asked. 

“I see someone has been reading their morning briefings,” Hauk said with a slight smile. 

“Yes, it is … and before you ask … We’ve no idea how this will affect the gate network. 

In his mind’s eye, however, Hauk had fears of a ripple effect all along that same network. 

But to what effect? 

—- Out of Story —-

Through this, we see one end of its reach but not the origin.

THAT story is coming.

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