Ansolon Season 02 / Episode 04
by Alan Tripp

— 2406 —

Alan Pathfinder allowed the maintenance pod to drift as he simply wanted to take in the view. 

What was before him was canvas waiting for the brushstrokes that would transform it into a masterpiece … or not. 

Depending on the artist … or engineer in this case.  

A veteran of the Dominion War and several years in the centerseat in the decades after, the Starfleet captain had agreed to take a position managing one of the fleet yards as the work associated with the reclamation project gained steam. 

The reclamation project was one designed specifically to rebuild the fleet after the Borg had wiped out most of it during their assault on Earth in 2401. 

The project called for either the refit of hulls not beyond saving … or … taking parts that could be salvaged to create new ships from the pieces that remained. 

In the case before him, Alan had a salvage team pull two much older ship hulls from one of the boneyards … sister ships. 

And what remained of one of those older ships lay before him … history that spoke to Alan’s heart. 

But if he made this choice and followed his heart, it would be setting in motion another way the timeline would turn even further away from the one he grew up knowing … before he was chunked back into the past, that is. 

What was it temporal agent Daniels once told him? … When in doubt, just follow your heart. 

You can’t help but do what is right as from you, that’s what history expects and wants. 

So after a tour of both hulls, Capt. Alan Ironheart set his thumb to the padd as he authorized the move. 

— One Year Later — 

Cmdr. Ahlayna Sollace swallowed hard, raised her head and looked out the forward viewport of shuttlepod. 

U.S.S. Sam Houston shown bright – the lights of her drydock illuminating her hull. 

The design was a mixture of old and new.

And some of that new was so new it was as yet untested in the field.  

Once rechristened and released from drydock, this Okinawa III-class experimental refit would be one of the oldest active ships serving in the fleet – she and her sister, the U.S.S. Crazy Horse, both. 

Originally launched during the age of Christopher Pike and the Enterprise, these ships served faithfully, were refitted to Okinawa II-class specs and continued to serve the Federation til the 2290s when both retired to the bone yards. 

There they remained until someone saw the potential and added them to the list of ships part of the reclamation project. 

And no matter if Ahlayna was ready or not, this small ship was to be her first command. 

— 2412 —

Capt. Alan Sollace stepped onto the bridge of the small Okinawa frigate, taking in the sights, sounds and even smells. 

It was like coming home, but after new owners had taken up residence and changed things. 

In his reality, the ship had never been refitted into an experimental design but had been restored to original condition, given to the Smithsonian Institute and used as a ship of living history with a crew that flew her to various ports of call … sort of like a traveling museum. 

It was that version of the ship Alan had commanded as part of detached duty while in between captaining ships of the line. 

Here, the original had been refitted with the experimental tech created by Daystrom Spaceframe Industries instead of the Wolfe-class back home. 

Of course this was home now.  This reality. 

Back home, Shallana Ironwolf had commanded the experimental Wolfe-class. 

Here the centerseat had fallen to another. 

Alan placed his hand on the back of the command chair but did not sit. 

This was not his Sam Houston.  And his was long gone. 

“Can I help you, Captain?” a voice asked. 

It was a voice he recognized even if different from his own. 

“Good morning, Capt. Sollace,” he said, turning so she could see him. 

Ahlayna Sollace looked into her own eyes … eyes that had seen more years, experienced a different life and belonged to a male version of herself.

She’d met Alan Sollace once during the aftermath of the great “Temporal Crossing of 2408.” 

He was her, but from a different timeline, different reality … and the future of that other reality at that. 

Stuff that really made the brain hurt if you thought about it too much. 

I mean … How would you like to meet the opposite sex, older version of yourself?

“What brings you to the Sam Houston today?” she asked. 

“With the Avalon and Houston both docked at Hell’s Keep, thought I’d take a moment to visit the old girl,” he said simply. “Different from the one I knew, but similar enough to stir the memories.” 

“You commanded this ship?” she asked. “In that other reality, I mean.” 

Alan nodded. 

“One restored as part of historical preservation and living history … part of the reenactment fleet,” he said. 

“The Houston refitted back there was known as a Wolfe-class … commanded by Shallana Ironwolf.”

“I know her,” Ahlayna said. “She commands our sister ship … Crazy Horse.” 

“Never realized she was a former Houston captain,” she added.

Alan laughed. 

“Shallana always regretted the move from the smaller Houston to the big battleships and task force command,” he said. “Honestly, I think she slugged that fleet admiral just to get a demotion back to captain.” 

Alan paused looking around. 

“She always has had a thing for the smaller ships, so Crazy Horse doesn’t surprise me at all.” 

“Houston is more tactical leaning whereas the Crazy Horse more science driven,” Ahlayna noted. 

“Not sure the Houston would have it any other way … no matter her shape,” Alan returned.

“I *did* command a Sam Houston that served the line … Two actually,” he continued. 

“First was a Cavalla–class destroyer … same as your Lafeyette-class. Second was Ares-class destroyer. Cavalla-class was always my favorite though.” 

Ahlayna let him talk, sizing him up and comparing him to herself without meaning to. 

“This ship is a ship of destiny that you will find yourself bound to,” Alan said. “Just as I was bound to mine.” 

“I can definitely agree with that,” she returned smiling. 

She liked him.  

“Would you like a tour before we shove off?” she offered. 

“New orders?” 

“Would seem strange readings have been detected on the opposite side of Malstrom, and they need a small ship rated for handling the harshness out that way, so we got the short straw,” she answered. 

“Short straw my ass,” Alan returned with a laugh. “You are looking forward to it as I would have back when I was your age. … You sure I’m not putting you out with the tour?”

“Not in the least,” she said. “Gives me something to do while the rest of the crew reports back.” 

As they walked, Alan shifted to small talk. 

“So … How are the wives?” he asked. 

Ahlayna laughed. 

“You heard about that,eh?” she answered. 

“They are both off on assignments of their own,” she continued. “So, I’m left to my own devices for the time being.” 

Alan nodded, suddenly missing his own wife and family. 

“Another thing we have in common,” he noted.  

The post The Straits: “The Original, You Might Say”  appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

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. 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

–

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.

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.

Scene: Cockpit, Valkyrie-class Fighter
Location: Argon Cluster – Malstrom Expanse

Time: 2410

—

“Gold One to North Carolina actual. … Still not sure if we’re dealing with another sensor ghost or the real thing.”

Agnes’ fingers slipped across the controls along the right side of her console, trying to finetune the readings being fed directly to her head’s-up display.

The Valkyrie fighter cut through space.

The other fighters held their positions in relation to her craft, the squadron responding to sensor pings coming from relay stations out in the soup of Hell’s Gate.

The soup was the soup … the nebula clouds swirling thick and chaotic outside of the Argon cluster — a cluster of eight stars dancing in concert within their small pocket of the universe.

[“Gold One, North Carolina actual. Hang tight. Should be clearing within the next few.”]

It always could be nothing. Yet, it also always could be something.

The one time they figured it all to be nothing, pirates descended catching them flatfooted and out of position.

Now that had been a hot mess that could have cost them more than it had, but then again … it had cost them dear enough.

No longer.  Not since that day.

[“Gold Squadron … Hold course, stay sharp.”]

There was nothing to do for the next few moments but wait and keep eyes sharp.

[“So, Wayfinder. You up for some poker when we get back to the shed?”]

“Cut the chatter, Gold Five. Eyes sharp, remember. Besides, you’ve lost a enough latinum this week.”

[“Which is why I need to win some of it back.”]

“The chatter, Gold Five.”

[“Acknowledged, Gold Leader. Staying eagle-eyed.”]

A few more minutes passed and then the shadows of the soup took form.

“North Carolina … Contact bearing 23!”

[“North Carolina Actual … What have you got?”]

It was several more seconds before Agnes could even begin to make out a shape.

“North Carolina Actual … We are looking at a heavy cruiser with escorts. … Too much interference for a positive ID.  Kicking in the burn for a visual.”

She switched frequencies.

“Gold Leader to Gold Flight … Form up and lets kick in the afterburners. Maintain alert status one and stay sharp.”

The Valkyrie fighters as one kicked their engines up several notches.

Distance shrank away as they closed in on their target, which altered course for a less threatening approach.

[“Approaching fighters. This is Capt. Colarahn Krog in command of the U.S.S. Shrykos of Starfleet’s Malstrom Expeditionary Force,”] a male voice stated.

[“We recognize your craft as Federation but to our knowledge, we have no records of one of our ships out this far as this part of the expanse remains unexplored,”] the person continued. [“Please acknowledge.”]

“Well, Capt. Krog … We have a problem as *I* am Capt. Colarahn Krog,” she stated coldly.

She and their fighters maintained course and alert status with weapons still hot.

They would NOT be caught flatfooted again.

 —

The bridge of the U.S.S. Shrykos was a flurry of activity as officers went about their duties, well aware that a flight of what appeared to be Valkyrie fighters was bearing down on them.

And normally where one found such fighters, there was sure to be ships and/or a base nearby.

Capt. Colarahn Krog was captain of the Andromeda / Ross hybrid explorer exiting the soup of the Malstrom Nebula and entering one of the several star systems within this pocket of space.

He gripped the arms of his command chair, keeping his full attention on the holographic status display hovering in from of him.

“We recognize your craft as Federation but to our knowledge, we have no records of one of our ships out this far as this part of the expanse remains unexplored,” he stated to the open channel. “Please acknowledge.”

[“Well, Capt. Krog … We have a problem as *I* am Capt. Colarahn Krog,”] the feminine voice on the other end returned rather coolly.

THAT was something unexpected, but then so were what looked like Starfleet fighters flying in formation this deep in an unexplored part of the soup.

 “I have to say you’ve now got my attention,” Krog said.

He decided to dispense with formalities and standard protocol.

“I have to admit I didn’t know another Colarahn Krog had graduated the Academy in recent years,” he continued, rising from his chair still speaking.

“I myself am of the class of 2389.”

Instinct was starting to tell him there was more to this story than first appearances.

[“Funny thing that,”] the female voice returned, just a bit harder … more guarded. [“So am I and I don’t remember seeing you around campus.”]

Krog closed his eyes, listened.

The cadence and voice were his own … IF he’d been born female.

Such things might seem impossible except when considering the multi-verse theory.

Then there was the fact of Malstrom command itself as two of his own commanding officers were both named Hauk. 

Two Klingons born the same, but in different universes and shaped products of those verses.

Now, the Klingon Hauk (the Starfleet one, not the KDF one) from another such reality / universe had claimed (with supporting evidence) that his reality had ceased to exist in that something happened there of such scale and scope that it no longer exists.

Yet, here that version of Hauk was as well as his god-daughter … another Klingon now serving in this Starfleet, named Bahni’qin.

It was considered proof that elements of that reality could well have fallen intact into this one.

And if that all considered fact, who is to say that in this other universe he might well have been born female.

“Flight leader, I have a story to tell that might seem a bit farfetched, yet I assure you is very much real.”

“Is it possible to arrange a meeting with someone from your command structure?” he asked.

—

Sometime later, the Starfleet presence within the Argon star cluster dispatched a recon destroyed, named U.S.S. Sam Houston, to serve as a safe place for the meeting to take place.

The U.S.S. North Carolina was holding distance to one side as the U.S.S. Shrykos was on the opposite.

Now, the untrained eye of his reality would have considered the Houston of the Lafeyette-class … a class of New Orleans-class lineage.

But Krog could see the subtle differences that marked this one as NOT Lafeyette.

The ship’s commanding officer, one Capt. Allen Narross Sollace, greeted him in the transporter room and led the way to the Conference room where the meeting was to take place.

Fun that, this man looked half Scottish-human / half Bajoran.

Krog himself knew a Capt. Alan Rhys Sollace, but he was half Scottish human / half Efrosian.

In the conference room waited a Starfleet Vice-Admiral … one Shallana Carrick.

She looked near identical to another officer he’d served with and considered friend … a captain named Atsila Shallana Maitland.

“Vice-Admiral, I think we’ve got a lot to talk about,” Krog began after they’d taken their seats.

“And I’ve a message from someone you likely know … Fleet Admiral Hauk,” he continued.

He slid a pad across the table to the Vice-Admiral who spun the padd  around and pressed play.

[“Hello, Shallana, it’s been a while,”] spoke the Starfleet Klingon.

[“You have no  idea how glad I am to see you and those with you. And I assure you that what I’m about to tell you is all true and I can prove it.”]

Krog had had time to confer with Hauk’ before this meeting, a bit startled that the Klingon knew personally all the players sitting around this very table … having served with each in what was now a past life being revisited.

Shallana leaned back in her chair listening as did Sollace beside her … their faces darkening with growing lines of sadness as they took in the story being told to them … the story of the fate of the universe they’d left behind.

It was gone … all of it.

Well, with the exception it seemed of what little seemed to have made it to this new reality which apparently was to be their new home.

~ Hauk — Pathfinder

The post “Past Realities Revisited” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.