Star Trek: This Side of Darkness, Part Two by John Erik Ege - HTML preview

Chapter 10

Star Fleet was not forthcoming with how they knew about the Borg. If they had an assessment of his performance, they were not tell him. He asked directly. “You’re alive. You passed.” 22 people lost. Two stranded in the Delta Quadrant. Because of his sensor sweep, they were privy to the oasis. They would survive and meek out existence. Between their ships and AI suits, they would be able to start a colony on that moon. They would use incubators and frozen embryos stored in energy form within the AI-suits.

In the real world- in his quarters starkly, Emmitt sat on a couch that followed the wall. A window was behind him. There was no desk. No other furniture. One whole wall was a fish tank. Jelly fish reflected the ambient lighting. Emmitt was in meditation. In another world, the imaginal realm, a place in his brain where he held conferences with the characters in his books, Emmitt was standing. Garcia was there, pacing. Bliss was there. ‘This is not the way it’s supposed to be,’ Garcia was protesting

      ‘It’s mostly the same,’ Bliss said. ‘Just a new order. If we draw a straight line from the first Borg encounter, the Romulans will likely be the first ones to lose a colony.

That might help Emmitt with his mission. Maybe the Romulans will ask for the

Federations help.’

      He came out of his meditation when he heard the door open and close. He opened his eyes and found Riker there. Standing at attention. He couldn’t get over how short the man was. He postured as if he were a bigger man. He had the swagger of John Wayne. He had a beard and mustache appropriate of a sailor from an older era. Everything in his gut told him this was someone else. ‘Wesley Crusher!’ Garcia insisted.

      “Why did you call me Wes?” Riker asked.

      “Honestly?” Emmitt asked.

      “I hope you’d always be honest with me,” Riker said.

      “I mistook you for someone else,” Emmitt said.

      “A friend?”

      Emmitt’s eyes narrowed as he tried to find the answer. “I don’t know. I think so. I am sorry, Riker,” he said. “I just got my ass handed to me and I am still sorting it.”

      “I hear you don’t like to lose,” Riker said.

      “I loose, people die,” Emmitt said.

      “People die. Whether you lose or not,” Riker said.

      Riker had a dark side. “Yes. To that, end, I don’t hate loosing,” Emmitt said. “You learn more from your losses than you do the wins. Pull up a chair.” Emmitt motioned and chair became available, site to site replicator.

      Riker rolled the chair closer, spun it and sat in it backwards. He was going to say something, but Emmitt held a hand up. He was thinking of something, trying to complete an inner thought. He brought up a holographic image of a star chart. One end of a line marked where they encountered the Borg. The other end of the line was at Earth. He highlighted the area a Borg ship would have to journey.

      “Assuming they come straight for us, they’re going to encounter Romulans first,”

Emmitt said. “If they assimilate cloaking tech, we’re fucked.”

      “They seem so arrogant I don’t think they would adopt stealth tactics,” Riker said. “There’s that,” Emmitt agreed. “But it’s not arrogance. It’s… They’ve never been beaten before. I bet we’re the first ones to take out a Borg ship. We nearly took ourselves out in the process.”

      “Starburst weapons are weapons of last resorts,” Riker said. “They’ve been around since Kirk’s day and you’re now the first Captain to actually use one in battle.”

      Emmitt nodded.

“Off the record, between you and me, I have been given an impossible mission,” Emmitt said.

      “Figure out the enigma of Far Point station,” Riker said.

      “No,” Emmitt said. He seemed irritated. “Far Point easy. The Bandi are the descendants of an Earth colony ship. They’re taller, and a bit odd, which is easily explained by evolutionary adaption to this harsh environment. The Federation wants this world because of its proximity to the Neutral Zone, and geothermal access points are near enough to the surface it would make it easier to build an outpost that can be selfsufficient in a short period of time. Utilizing automation, we could be producing ships in five years.”

      “With what I seen, they can do it now, and Groppler Zorn, he says they can build a ship in half the time it takes us to do it,” Riker said.

      Emmitt frowned.

      “Not as easy you thought?” Riker said.

      “It doesn’t make sense,” Emmitt said.

      “That’s why we’re here,” Riker said.

      “No, it just doesn’t make sense that they would send me,” Emmitt said. “The Hood is here. Star Fleet as a permanent settlement here. If there is something going on here, why hasn’t anyone figured it out?”

      “Humans tend to ignore anomalies. Especially when things can be explained through normative tech, like replicators. I don’t think it’s just replicator technology. The frequency of anomalies is increasing,” Riker said.

      “Anomalies? What anomalies?”

      “A person thinks of something they want, they find their need met in a relatively quick way,” Riker said.

      “They have an AI and telepathic tech? We have that. It’s not really telepathy in the traditional sense. They were reading minds, so to speak, with fMRI tech by end of the 21^st century. Anyone with a medical tricorder could theoretically deduce what a person is going to do, and study them long enough, you’d learn to read them like a book. That’s how our AI suits work.”

      “I don’t think it’s that,” Riker said. “And I don’t think it is organic telepathy. I was stationed on Betazed for a season. I know what telepathy feels like.”       “Do you? I’ve spent time around Vulcans and an Andorian telepath, and my experience is telepaths come in flavors. Consciousness comes in flavors. The Andorian I knew was blind. She told me humans taste funny, assorted flavors, you never know what you’re going to get. She said I reminded her of butterscotch. Vulcans are bland, like unseasoned soup. Klingons taste like snake,” Emmitt said.

      Emmitt moved something with his fingers and a table arrived between them, two cups of coffee. He took the coffee like an old person, holding the cup in two hands to greet the warmth from the cup. His left palm supported the base of the cup, almost similar to an Asian ritualized drinking. He breathed, holding it to his nose, than sipped it. Riker simply lifted his glass and drank. He seemed to like the flavor, but had failed to understand this had been an invitation to a ceremonial interaction pattern. Emmitt didn’t correct him.

      “I’ll be taking an Away Team down in a few minutes,” Emmitt said.

      “The hell you will,” Riker said.

      “Let’s get this out of the way,” Emmitt said. “I am the Captain, and I will lead an Away Team when I want to.”

      “It is my job to keep you safe,” Riker said.

      “And I expect you to do your job,” Emmitt said. “But if you pull a stunt like you did with your last Captain, I’ll have a new First Officer. There’s a Shelby back at fleet I am interested. I bet she doesn’t turn me down this time.” “You want to hit that?” Riker asked.

“Yeah. Why not?” Emmitt asked. “Look, Riker. You’re older. You’re more experienced. You’re seasoned. You exercise discernment in everything. I half expected you to have a British accent and stiff upper lip. I need you. But I am not a damn kid and I will not be treated like one and if I even get the hint that I am being coddled, I’ll blow things up. We don’t have to like each other to work well together.”

      Riker laughed.

      “What?”

      “I was going to say that.”

      “Riker. Will. I trust you,” Emmitt said. “There are some things I do well. One area that I am concerned about is my image with women.”

      “You seem to have that down pretty good…”

      “I don’t want that image. For the Captain,” Emmitt said. “I can always take a ‘no,’ but sometimes people don’t say ‘no’ because they’re being polite and when it comes to sex and relationships, I am like the proverbial bull in a China shop and things get broken before I realize I have over reached. Now, I got this ship, and I am the Captain, and that means something to people. There are rumors of me and some people might seek to exploit that. There is a game here and I don’t always see it. I mentioned it to the counselor. Help me not make a fool of myself.”

      “How are you with kids?”

      “I love kids. Who doesn’t like kids?” Emmitt asked.

      “I don’t know where that came from,” Riker said.

      “Anyway, that other thing I was going to say, the impossible mission, which is a mission no one is going to put in writing,” Emmitt said. “I have been tasked with making friend with the Romulan Empress Nelvana.”       “Friends?” Riker asked.

      “Yeah.”

      “Friends like colleagues?”       “Friends like, friends with benefits.”       “Fuck,” Riker said.

      “That was explicitly implied in my personal directive,” Emmitt said. “Three

Admirals green lighted that.”

      “Care to tell me…”

“You don’t need to know that,” Emmitt said. “And you will likely need plausible deniability. If I fail, or this goes south in any unpredictable way, and I see a myriad of ways it could blow up in my face, your job is first to preserve the sanctity of Star Fleet. Take over the ship. Arrest me for treason. Give the State evidence that I betrayed confidence.”

      “In other words, throw you under the bus?” Riker said.

      “The perfect colloquial expression, contextually,” Emmitt said. “Think about it, Riker. Why else would they put me in command over you?”

      “I figured it was punishment for pulling rank on the Captain and denying him a spot of the Away Team,” Riker said.

      “Maybe that’s all this is. A part of my brain likes to script out drama where there is none,” Emmitt said. He eased back, holding his coffee close. “I have learned to interrupt that, to be patient, and usually things don’t end up being near as dramatic I imagine it. However, almost every time I fail to interrupt my scripting, I start pushing a script and things blow up.”

      “So, help you not blow things up, help you not make a fool of yourself, and help keep you safe while allowing you to go on Away Teams,” Riker said.

      “You big baby sitter you,” Emmitt asked.

      “What an interesting life I’ve signed up for,” Riker said.

“The data we collected on the Borg. That might get me an audience with her. An overture to share,” Emmitt said.

      “To create a friendship through a common enemy,” Riker said.

      “Without the Starburst, just one of their ships could take out our entire Fleet,” Emmitt said. “Do the math. Run the simulations if you don’t believe me. They now know we have Starbursts. I doubt they come for us with one ship. And if they figure out a defense against the Starburst, well, game over. That and, for obvious reasons, we’re not using a Starburst inside the Solar System.”

      Emmitt made the coffee go away. He stood. Riker stood, and he tapped the chair, making it go away. Emmitt extended his hand.

      “Welcome aboard, Commander Riker,” Emmitt said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I am going to go visit Far Point.”

      “I am opposed to you beaming down,” Riker said.

      “Did you see anything particularly hazardous?” Emmitt said.

      “No, Sir,” Riker said.       “Very well, then. The ships is yours,” Emmitt said. “Troi, Worf, and LaForge, report to transporter room one.

Chapter 11

Away Teams were never visibly armed because the AI suits could give them a weapon on demand; transporter/replicator tech woven directly into the suits, almost anything was available on demand, dependent on the amount of energy in the suit battery. It could create survival gear and food. The Passenger could manifest as a physical companion. The Passenger, or the Companion, gave Fleet two mottos: the last suit you will ever wear, and, no one goes alone.

      Troi, Worf, and LaForge joined Emmitt on the transporter pad. O’Brien was in charge of the transport. It was he who saw the anomalous energy spike and delayed the transport. He looked up when Troi issues a start. The Captain was gone.

      “Worf to Riker,” Worf said. “The Captain has been abducted.”       “You mean he beamed down without you?” Riker asked.

      “I did not say that,” Worf said.

      O’Brien added. “I delayed engaging the transport due to an energy spike in a coil,

which was likely the harmonics of an outside transporter.”

      “High Conference,” Riker said.

      Riker was in the point of the circle designated for the Captain. Troi, Worf, LaForge, Jurak, Ishara were prominent on the circle. Other Department heads rose to High Conference, but stayed off the circle.

      “O’Brien, could you identify the energy signature?” Riker asked. “Was it a Romulan transporter?”

      “Definitely not Romulan,” O’Brien said. “I’m not familiar with this pattern and it’s not in the databanks.”

      “He’s alive,” Troi said. “I can discern that much.”

      “You were intimate with the Captain?” Riker asked. In his mind, the accusation was, you haven’t been on the ship a week and you already bedded the captain.       “None of your business, Commander,” Troi said.

      “It’s now ship’s business,” Riker said. “Were you intimate with Captain or not, LT.”

      “It was just a kiss, Will,” Troi said. Her less than subtle inner response, clearly telegraphed in her posture; ‘leave it alone.’

“If you’re sensing him, you have established a telepathic link,” Riker said. “I want you to contact him.”

      “It’s not like that, Will,” Troi said.

      “But you were open to that, or there wouldn’t be this connection. Now, make it happen,” Riker said.

      “There are levels, Will. There are physical connections, emotional connections, mental connections…”

“Metaphysical connection, yeah, whatever. You taught me well enough, then shut me out,” Riker said.

      “You shut me out when you slept with my mother,” Troi said.

      “I didn’t know she was your mother,” Riker said.

      “How could you not know?” Troi said.

      “Did it ever occur to you, she tricked me, and intentionally slept with me to interfere with our relationship,” Riker asked.

“She forced you to get drunk in a singles bar?”

      “We were on a break,” Riker said. “You told me I was too serious and needed to lighten it up with someone else.”

      “Perhaps we should get back to discussing the Captain’s disapearance,” Worf said.

      “I established a rapport with the Captain. He and I are open to exploring options but we’re not there yet. If I come on him like this, that could be misconstrued as a violation. I don’t have his permission. This is not mutual. This could profoundly affect him. It could harm him. It could harm me.”       “He’ll live,” Riker said. “So, will you.”

      Troi scowled at him; she was clenching her fists. “Because you think you survived our termination? This is not the same and you know it. You’re making assumptions based on something you never fully came to understand, much less appreciate.”

      “Counselor,” Riker said. He reflected understanding. “I hear that I am asking you to take a risk here. You risk yourself, the Captain, and the nature of your relationship with him. But we need to know more details. Was he kidnapped by Q? Is there a way we can help him? Please. I know I can’t demand this of you. I can’t officially ask you to do this, but this is important.” He realized a subtle, underlying fear. He had requested to command the Enterprise. How convenient that as soon as he arrives the Captain mysteriously disappears. This was not the way he wanted to be Captain. And if they didn’t give him the command, they wouldn’t let him keep the command in this context. They’d replace him as Captain and probably transfer him again. If he knew nothing else, being on the Enterprise was his life mission. He knew it to the core of his being.       Troi unclenched her fists. She nodded. She shook her hands out, trying to relax the tension from her arms and shoulders. She closed her eyes. As a psychic, she was trained in ‘Remote Viewing,’ but this was not that. For lacking of a better word, she sensed the flavor of the Captain. She identified with that, sought to merge with that, to become that. She pushed a oneness. The sense of herself faded, would continue to decrease, but never zero. She would never be fully him, or fully one, but she would draw ever closer. At some point they would connect. At some point they would merge. At some point a new consciousness would emerge, a place where their souls overlapped. Science preferred the word consciousness. Consciousness was only reluctantly agreed upon as a meaningful alternative to soul. Consciousness was finally recognized by science as a thing until itself. In the overlap, that consciousness space was neither Troi nor Emmitt. How much of that being emerged depended on how close Troi and Emmitt drew together. How close they came together was dependent on a variety of variables, rapport, solidity of personal boundaries, wanting, hunger, lust, resistance, fear, love, ability to love, which was a different thing than actually holding love, capacity for love, which was different than actually holding love, or having the ability to love…       One didn’t merge soul, or consciousness, without affecting the other bodies. The mental body, the emotional body, and the physical body always responded. Affect one thing, you affect them all. Troi’s face became less neutral. There was initial fear. Then there was recognition. A peace. A change in breathing. A subtle smile. She shivered.

      “Troi?”

In the transporter room, Worf’s suit directed his body to take her arm, so she didn’t fall. Her hands grasped his wrists, squeezing. In High Conference, it was clear she was taking to an intimate level that was making many in the circle uncomfortable. Especially Worf, who may have been marginally aware of his body and the grip she had on his wrist.

      “Troi,” Riker said again.

      Her breathing came in spurts. Accelerating. “Oh, fuck, yeah…” Her eyes rolled back and she collapsed, disappeared.

      “Go low,” Riker said, interrupting the High Conference.

      Worf was holding the unconscious Counselor Troi. She looked happy, her head resting against him, her hand gripping his shirt.

      “Troi?” Riker asked.

      “She appears to be unconscious,” Worf said.

      “Take her to Sickbay,” Riker said.

      “Commander, there’s an incoming ship,” Ishara said.       “Never rains, but it pours,” Riker said. “On screen…”

Emmitt arrived in a dark place. His suit could illuminate the space by going bright, but it chose to honor the darkness. It could also see through echolocation, and on all energetic spectrum. It could upload a visual approximation to sight directly to the brain. It could provide translations of infrared to ultraviolet. It gave him the best translation. He was in a small, circular enclosure, with a central pod, opened like a lotus flower. In energetic patterns, there was web of light that filled the entire space, but it was not tangible or noticeable in the visible spectrum.

      A person arrived. Female. In normal light, she would appear green. Her clothing was simple, shoulder less, summer dress. She arrived at about the same time he became aware of Troi trying to connect with him.

      “I’m fine,” he said. Was he aroused because the half-naked female, or because of

Troi, he wondered. And then it hit him full. “Fuck me. No, not now… Really bad timing…”

      He went to his knees, his eyes rolling back, and then he fell flat on his face. He awoke to find the girl sitting beside him, lotus pose. She smiled.

      “You are different than the others. Why?”

      He sat up. “I am sorry about…”

      “You are different than the others. Please, explain.”       “I don’t understand,” Emmitt said.

      “You are like us,” she said.

      “Us?” Emmitt asked. “There are others like you?”

      She seemed confused. She looked at he