Time of Dying

Posted on Mon Aug 17th, 2026 @ 1:10am by Commodore Wilkan Targaryen & Enterprise Officer NPC & Commander Ash Randall & Lieutenant Commander Sora Bernadotte & Lieutenant Urvasi Elandorn & Lieutenant Joshua Silas & Lieutenant (J.G.) Dylan Blake & Ensign Sayori Nakai & Ensign Mirakylin Yumerieva

9,243 words; about a 46 minute read

Mission: 10. Rumble
Location: Bridge, U.S.S. Enterprise
Timeline: 2439-10-20, 11:45

The hum of the Bridge was a constant, rhythmic baseline, but for Lieutenant Anzai Sulu, the silence of the Science Station felt increasingly heavy. It was 11:45. She had been glued to this console since 08:00, tracking the sluggish sensor sweeps of Iocarro.

The solitude gave her too much time to think, and lately, her thoughts always drifted to the same destination: a transfer request sitting on her PADD, waiting for a final digital signature. For weeks, she had been debating the merits of leaving the Enterprise. Being a descendant of Hikaru Sulu felt like living in a shadow that spanned centuries; being the daughter of Captain Akira Sulu meant that her quick promotion to Lieutenant (J.G.) was often viewed by others as an inevitability of birthright rather than a product of her own grueling hours in the lab. She had trained to be a scientist, to interpret data and uncover objective truths, yet she was constantly treated as a relic to be preserved.

The Gamma Quadrant, while scientifically fascinating, was an unforgiving testing ground. Every anomaly they encountered brought with it the silent, crushing expectation that a Sulu should handle it with effortless grace. She was tired of the performance. The transfer to a quiet, administrative posting at a Starbase back in the Beta Quadrant felt increasingly like a necessity for her mental health. There, she could be just Anzai without the legacy, with no expectations, she'd just had her data points and routine. It was a logical, quiet exit. It was safe. It was exactly what she told herself she wanted, even if the thought of leaving the frontier left a hollow, restless ache in her chest that she refused to acknowledge.

Suddenly, her console chirped, but not with the steady, low-frequency pulse of the planet’s natural state, but a jagged, violent spike. Her fingers danced across the interface, suppressing the flicker of frustration at the sudden interruption. The data streaming across the monitor was chaotic. The tectonic stability of the Iocarro caverns had just shattered. It wasn't just a slide; it was a massive, system-wide seismic event centered directly on the Away Team’s last known coordinates.

Anzai felt her pulse spike, but she forced it back into a steady, disciplined rhythm. She didn't hesitate. Her hand slammed the command sequence for ship-wide alerts.

"Bridge to all decks," she announced, her tone sharp and devoid of panic. "Initiate Yellow Alert. We have a major tectonic collapse on the surface."

At the mission operations station on the opposite side of the bridge to Anzai, Lieutenant Dylan Blake had been mirroring his fellow crew member by allowing his mind to drift onto other matters when the situation on the surface changed. He sat bolt upright, eyes as wide as saucers at what he was receiving from the planet. "Holy..." he muttered.

"Commander Bernadotte, can you get a transporter lock on our away team?" Commander Randall inquired, quickly, and tapped her comm badge. "Captain to the bridge. We have catastrophic tectonic activity centered on the away team." She announced.

"I've been trying," Sora reported, frantically tapping on her console. "The instability is making it a bit difficult to get a fix on them. Call the away team, an open comlink should be enough for me to get them."

"Commander, I've attempted to establish a link on all standard Starfleet emergency frequencies," Galatea reported, her fingers gliding over the console as a series of harsh, flat error tones chimed in response. "Transmission failed. The atmospheric ionization and shifting benamite strata are scattering the carrier signal before it can reach the subterranean cavern network. They aren't receiving us."

Shuttle Bay 3

Down in Flight Deck Operations Control for ShuttleBay 3, Urvasi heard the Yellow Alert. She quickly checked in with the Flight Deck Operations Officer about the situation. There was nothing directly dealing with the Shuttlebays. However, Urvasi went to the Active shuttle bay area to get a shuttle ready, for just in case. She looked around and saw the Alekian Engineering Ensign on duty for shuttle bay 3. She motioned her over. "Ensign Yumerieva, please check out the engineering section of James T Kirk and get it hot. Thank you."

Mira nodded and replied, "On it, Lieutenant Elandorn." She went inside to get the Type 20 shuttle ready for a speed run rescue just in case.

Anzai’s fingers flew across the Science console as the Yellow Alert klaxons echoed through the Bridge. "Subspace interference is spiking," she called out to Commander Randall. "The collapse sheared through Benamite veins, creating a stronger, more localized dampening field. I’ve lost their life signs, but it could just be interference."

At Tactical, Lieutenant Rrawran let out a low growl, his golden eyes fixed on the viewscreen. "Lieutenant Sulu, can you isolate the resonant frequency from earlier? If comms are down, tracking those mechanical vibrations will show us where the tunnels didn't cave in."

"On it," Anzai replied, adjusting the sensors. "The benamite deposits are making it harder than it should be. Our sensors are limited, but if Ops or Engineering can reroute extra power to the lateral array, we might be able to punch through?" It was more a question than a statement because the benamite was notorious for disrupting Starfleet sensors.

"Lets take a page out of the Dominion play book and knock down that interference with a low intensity polaron discharge from the main deflector, wide dispersal, and leverage our, high altitude, atmospheric probes for maximum, sensor penetration. WE know, approximately, where the away team was so a focused, tunneling, sensor sweep like we would use for a tunneling transporter beam, should still cover a large enough area to find our team." The Chief Engineer, advised, from the center seat.

"The Chief Engineer's strategy is sound," Rrawran growled, the automated voice of the universal translator cutting through the klaxons as his muzzle pulled back slightly over sharp fangs. The Lieutenant shifted his heavy, muscular frame at Tactical, his clawed hands hovering with practiced precision over the targeting matrix. "A polaron pulse will punch through the benamite blanket, but the window will be narrow."

"Aligning sensor array with the Deflector now," Anzai called out, her voice measured and composed despite the adrenaline humming beneath her skin. "If Ops can grant me priority power allocation to the lateral arrays, I can boost the sweep's signal-to-noise ratio by forty percent. That should give us enough resolution to pierce the benamite veil the second the polaron discharge clears the path." She tapped a final sequence, locking the targeting vectors onto the away team's last known sector. "Power request sent. Standing by on your mark."

"You got the power, Lieutenant," Sora called out as she made the necessary adjustments for the pulse. "Standing by with transporter lock as soon as we have located the team."

While the plan to pierce the benamite layers was being discussed Blake continued to monitor the situation on the surface and track the destructive fall out from the fractured landscape. It was violent and covered several kilometres in all directions - he hoped the team could be located quickly and pulled clear as soon as possible. Dylan winced at his console and felt the knot of anxiety of the teams safety tighten: "Commander Randall," he called out before swivelling around to face her directly. "The shuttle, the Robert April is gone ma'am. Swallowed by the quake."

Sora let out a brief string of Norse curses. "Hurry up with that polaron pulse, we need to get our people out, and fast."

"The loss of the Robert April removes our primary telemetry anchor," Rrawran barked, a deep, resonant rumble vibrating through his massive chest. He shifted his heavy, muscular frame, his clawed fingers dancing across the Tactical console with fluid, terrifying efficiency as he locked the main deflector array into precise alignment with the atmospheric probes, "Deflector control is slaved to Science. Polaron emitters are primed and holding at low-intensity yield. Wide dispersal pattern ready on your mark, Lieutenant Sulu."

"Polaron pulse effective. Sensor window open," Anzai announced, her fingers blurred across her console as the polaron discharge sliced a narrow corridor through the ionized benamite dust. Raw data flooded her monitors, transforming from chaotic noise into a sharp, localized grid on her displays. She leaned closer to her screens as she adjusted the lateral resolution, a cold knot tightened in her stomach at the readouts.

"Commander, I’m detecting Commander zh'Roothi's combadge in a crevice approximately eighty meters below the primary collapse site," Anzai reported, her voice dropping as she read the returning telemetry. "But... there are no life-signs. Not for the Commander, and not for the rest of the away team. The signal is isolated... just the badge."

"Switch focus. Every member of the away team had at least one tricorder that, if still operational, should still be actively scanning. Lets focus on identifying those active scans, Lieutenant Sulu." Commander Randall ordered and tapped her combadge. "Bridge to Lieutenant Elandorn. Prepare a rescue shuttle and stand by, please" Ash requested.

"Bridge, Shuttle Bay 3, Lieutenant Elandorn, I am with Ensign Yumerieva in getting the Type 20 Shuttle James T Kirk ready for a Rescue Speed run. The Kirk will be ready in 3 minutes, launch position in five."

The heavy doors of the Ready Room hissed open as Commodore Wilkan Targaryen stepped back onto the Bridge, his posture rigid and uncompromising. The soft, rhythmic pulse of the Yellow Alert klaxons washing over his face as he moved for the center of the Bridge. His sharp eyes swept the horseshoe layout; taking in the jagged sensor readouts dancing across Anzai Sulu’s console, the grim tension at Tactical, and Commander Randall standing near the command well. As he moved if he harbored any lingering ghosts, they were instantly locked away behind the unyielding mask of command.

"Report," Wilkan commanded, his voice instantly centering the room's energy, despite having heard the Helmsman's notice about the rescue shuttle.

"Seismic instability, sir," Sora stated plainly. "The cavern our away team was in has collapsed, and the Robert April has been destroyed. We are working on establishing a lock on our people. We have located Commander zh'Roothi's combadge, but we do not detect any life signs. Commander Randall has ordered James T Kirk to be prepared for a rescue mission."

Wilkan glanced briefly at Ash in the center seat, offering a silent, unspoken acknowledgment of her swift handling of the crisis. The Enterprise's Commander considered the nature of this planet and what the planet's composition meant for their mission. Benamite had been a recurring challenge for sensors since it was first discovered, the mineral easily blocking sensors and transporter signals without much challenge. The truth was, despite the danger it provided, he could feel in his bones that his crew were alright.

"The polaron pulse cleared a path, sir," Anzai Sulu called out from the Science station, her hands moving rapidly across her interface. "Following Commander Randall's orders, I’m shifting the lateral array to filter out environmental noise and sweep for active tricorder telemetry."

"The loss of the Robert April removes our primary telemetry anchor," Rrawran barked, a deep rumble vibrating through his chest as his universal translator delivered the Rorworr's growl. "Deflector control remains slaved to Science, Commodore. Polaron emitters are primed to maintain the dispersal corridor on your mark, Lieutenant Sulu."

Wilkan crossed his arms as he listened to the back and forth amongst the crew. Silently, he paced around the logo of the United Federation of Planets that was built into the carpet in front of his chair. Turning his gaze toward the viewscreen, where the bruised, turbulent surface of Iocarro churned, Wilkan kept watching the planet, "All right, who's got ideas?"

"Deploy the James T. Kirk with a rescue team and the entire complement of micro-diagnostic probes on board this ship. At 2mm in diameter they'll be able to get where we can't, underground via cracks and crevices, and be able to paint us a picture, of sorts, of what's down there." Ash suggested, while she resumed her position at main engineering.

"I'm concerned about sending another team down to the surface since our last shuttle got eaten by the planet," Wilkan countered, wanting to limit the risk to the rest of the crew. He paused a moment, "What other options do we have for deploying the probes? Can we do so without the shuttle?"

"Send the shuttle, but without crew," Sora suggested. "Pilot it remotely from here. That way, we still get the probes down there reliably, without risking more people." She looked at Ash, then at the Captain. "If that is not an option, I volunteer to fly the shuttle and deploy the probes solo."

"Remote piloting the shuttle presents some challenges given the interference being encountered. The plan for using the micro-probes involves utilizing, line-of-sight' communications via a multi-band, tight beam, high potential, microwave beams to transmit telemetry. That tight beam communication could be leveraged for remote control as well. The probes will work as a distributed network, each one acting as both a sensor and a communication node to ensure we get telemetry from them." Ash explained, quietly. "What might be daunting, whether remotely piloted or with a pilot on board, is the act of station keeping for the tight beam communication. The shuttle will have to be very close to the surface, regardless. If we opt for a pilot, I would recommend there be two." The Chief Engineer added.

After no more than a few seconds of thought, Sora shook her head and stood up. "Right. We can sit here for the next three hours debating, while our colleagues and friends down there are in mortal danger. Or we can go do something about it. If you say the shuttle needs two people on board, who's coming with? Because I'm going."

Joshua didn't hesitate. "You can count me in as well Commander."

Shuttle Bay 3

Urvasi had finished the preflight pilot checks 2 minutes ago and exited the shuttle. Thirty seconds after that, Mira had finished her engineering checks and exited as well. The bay crew worked on shifting the shuttle into launch placement with repulsor fields.

After Ninety seconds, Urvasi, along with Mira, watched the bay crew get the James T Kirk into final position to launch. Urvasi called out, "Great Job, now we wait further instructions."

"Bridge, Shuttle Bay 3, Lieutenant Elandorn reporting, Type 20 Shuttle Jame T Kirk is in launch position, awaiting further orders."

The Chief Engineer, with some remote assistance, saw to the staging of the micro-probe deployment package consisting of 20 base stations with a complement of 1,000 probes each. Each base station included a limited, mission specific, AI that would coordinate the deployment, recharge and retrieval of the probes in cooperation with other base stations as probes spread out and communicated with whichever base station was closest with the base stations passing raw telemetry to the shuttle for transmission back to Enterprise. Though not much larger than a 1 pound coffee can, the base stations are equipped with a, comparatively powerful, for its size, fusion reactor, antigrav and propulsion capabilities.

"Probe deployment package is ready and being loaded on the James T. Kirk." Ash announced, after a minute or two.

"Stand down, Commander Bernadotte," Wilkan ordered, his voice carrying the calm, absolute authority that immediately checked the tension on the Bridge. He turned to face Sora and Joshua directly. "I appreciate the readiness, but we don't throw secondary teams into an unmapped collapse zone until we have a viable line of communication or a definitive point of insertion."

He paused, his eyes turning back to the viewscreen where the turbulent face of Iocarro spun below them, a churning wall of orange sulfur and atmospheric ash.

"We modify the approach," Wilkan decided, turning toward the command well. "We drop the James T. Kirk into a low synchronous orbit directly over the breach. Slave its thrusters to the primary computer for micro-adjustments to hold the tight-beam relay without risking a crew. We launch the probe package directly from the shuttle’s ventral bay at high altitude." He looked away from the viewer to his crew, "Now, we make it work. Program those base stations for a deep-strata sweep the second they clear the hull."

"Understood, sir." Ash responded, the Commodore's wishes lining up with the, basic, mission parameters the base stations would be following. "Once there is full deployment we should begin to receive telemetry within a few minutes as the individual probes make surface penetration."

Sora nodded, satisfied. "Remote operation is definitely the right call here, sir. I'll get to work setting everything up to receive the data."

Shuttle Bay 3

Urvasi and Mira listened to the orders being issued by Shuttle Bay 3 Flight Deck command. Both entered the shuttle as the bay crew was doing final connections of the payload to the cargo area of the shuttle. Urvasi worked on shifting to full autonomous station keeping with redundant telemetry connection to the Enterprise for mission parameter updates and relinquishing control to that telemetry if needed.

Mira, for her part, requested a redundant gyroscope positioner for activation once the shuttle reached position even as she worked on cutovers for life support and decon fields to thrusters and impulse drive as the shuttle wouldn't have a crew, at least until a rescue was able to be done. The gyroscope device came on board and Mira locked it into place in the geocenter of the shuttle, then selected for spinup once destination reached. This would help keep the shuttle in place during atmospheric turbulances.

Everything was done in the space of Three minutes.

"Bridge, Shuttle Bay 3, Lieutenant Elandorn, the James T Kirk is ready for departure, on your mark."

"Launch," Wilkan commanded, his gaze remaining fixed on the viewscreen. "Automated sequence alpha. Lock the tight-beam relay to Science and maintain low synchronous orbit directly above the primary collapse."

On the viewscreen, the Type 20 shuttle slipped smoothly out of Shuttlebay 3's atmospheric field, thrusters firing in brief, precise bursts to align its descent vector. Below it, Iocarro churned, a nightmare of shifting tectonic plates and sulfurous clouds.

Urvasi watched as the James T Kirk left on automated sequences. She thought for a moment, then looked at Mira. "Ensign Yumerieva, prepare Type 19 Shuttlecraft John Harriman for a retrieval mission. We need to be ready for the James T Kirk to be utilized as telemetry, while another shuttle does the rescue. Make sure the modular Type 19 shuttle has Medivac and Rescue Modules. Its twin Navigational Deflector Arrays, Long range reconnaissance sensors, atmospheric airscoop, hover field antigravs, with dedicated transporter system with 4 person capability will come in very handy for rescue in the environment of the planet below. Make sure everything is tuned for the planetary conditions with reinforcement to its already sturdy hull with reinforcement fields. We need to be ready for when the away team is located."

Mira nodded as she replied, "Sir, yes sir, the John Harriman will be ready." Mira motioned to the deck crew, "Okay, we are the last bastion for rescue, lets get the Type 19 Shuttle John Harriman a chance to fulfill its mission, to be the steadfast horse of a fleet of shuttles, this time for steady rescue. Here is the module compliment, let's get the transponder set to the James T Kirk and then its telemetry for when survivors are found. Not if, when. Let's do this."

The Shuttle Bay 3 deck crew got to work. Urvasi watched closely. She would notify the Bridge when the John Harriman was ready, not before. The bridge had its own emergencies to deal with.

At the Science Station, Anzai’s hands moved across the interface, her personal doubts momentarily swallowed by the urgent rhythm of tactical calculations. "Shuttle is in position," she reported, her voice steady. "Tight-beam telemetry link established. Atmospheric disruption is heavy, but the signal is holding. Signal-to-noise ratio is within acceptable parameters."

"Deploy the base stations," Commodore Targaryen ordered.

Through the shuttle's ventral bay, the coffee-can-sized canisters dropped into the turbulent atmosphere. Thrusters on each base station flared briefly, resisting the high-altitude shear winds as they fanned out, descending toward the fractured surface of the planet.

"Base stations deployed," Anzai called out, watching her monitors as the automated units penetrated the cloud layer. "Micro-diagnostic probes are launching... initial network handshakes are registering. The distributed mesh is expanding into the crevice network."

Raw data began trickling in, slowly building a high-resolution 3D map of the subterranean strata beneath the collapse site. Thousands of tiny, two-millimeter sensors were flooding through the basalt fractures, painting a vivid picture of the deep caverns.

Relieved the Commodore wasn't going to send down a second team into the turbulent skies of Iocarro Blake watched the shuttle anxiously as it descended into position, jostled by the violent atmosphere but remain true to task. The probes quickly sped away racing down to map the area before carving a route underground. From there onwards a whole new network began to rise, a warren of tunnels and chambers took shape on his console that of those charting the probes progress. "Just how big is this place?" he asked lowly.

"Massive," Anzai replied without looking up, her fingers flying across her interface as raw telemetry continued to render on her screens. "The probes are mapping an extensive subterranean conduit network spanning several kilometers beneath the primary collapse. The entire lower strata appears to be honeycombed with ancient drainage channels and one of them leads directly to a low-frequency telemetry spike. I'm picking up the Robert April's navigation array down there!"

"The base unit coordinating the micro-probes in that area will likely direct five micro-drones to locate and conduct a diagnostic scan of the shuttle." Ash commented.

Sora looked over the scans and shook her head. "Finding our people down there will not be easy," she commented, when a ping from her console distracted her. "The Robert April's transponder just pinged. Feeding the data over to the search drones now. Maybe the shuttle is more intact than we thought."

"If the Robert April is intact enough to broadcast telemetry," Lieutenant Rrawran barked, his claws hovering over Tactical, "can we bypass the damaged primary systems and remotely trigger its auto-return?"

Before anyone could answer, Anzai’s console chimed with a sequence of sharp, high-frequency tones.

"Wait... I have biometric signatures," Anzai interrupted, her voice cutting across the Bridge as her fingers isolated a reading from the expanding micro-probe network. "Initial sweeps were suppressed by local thermal activity, but I’ve got three distinct native life signs moving through a lower bypass... and they’re escorting a fourth." She adjusted the lateral resolution, her eyes locking onto the telemetry as a look of intense focus washed over her face. "Confirmed Andorian physiology! It’s Commander zh'Roothi! She's alive and moving toward the Robert April's crash site with three local juveniles."

Ash looked to the Commodore. "Permission to begin configuration of a pattern enhancement network, sir?" The Chief Engineer requested, quietly.

"Granted, Commander," Wilkan replied, giving Ash a firm nod. "Get that network prepped so we can pull them out the second we have a clear signal."

"Sir, sensors just picked up a second shuttle!" Rrawran barked, his claws tapping rapidly against the Tactical console as the universal translator synthesized his deep rumble. "Deep-strata telemetry is returning a secondary hull signature buried beneath the collapse, and it is an exact structural match!"

At the Science Station, Anzai’s head snapped toward her monitor as fresh sensor overlays flashed in warning. Her fingers flew across the interface, isolating the subterranean grid. "Confirmed! The telemetry is mirroring ours... it's an exact copy of the Robert April, already crashed and embedded in a lower basalt fissure."

Wilkan pivoted toward Science, his brow furrowing as he studied the impossible display. "A second Robert April? Already down there?" He took a sharp step forward, eyes narrowed on the sensor telemetry. "How is that even possible, Lieutenant? Is this a sensor ghost, or are we looking at identical wreckage?"

"Scanning the wreckage now," Anzai reported, her voice steadying despite the bizarre reading streaming across her console.

The Chief Engineer had merely given the Commodore a, pronounced, nod in response to being granted permission and began coordinating the configuration of the pattern enhancement network. Ash was somewhat concerned about the sensor readings announced by Rrawran and confirmed by Anzai. She understood...hell, she had LIVED the possibilities the readings suggested and all they entailed and hoped, beyond hope, that it was not what she suspected.

Anzai’s hands flew over her console, isolating the erratic energy signature bleeding through the lower strata. "It isn't a sensor ghost, Commodore. The hull geometry, Warp Nacelle casing, and registry markers are an exact match for the Robert April." She paused, her chest tightening as fresh diagnostic telemetry rendered over the structural wireframe. "The localized decay on its hull alloy indicates it's been sitting in that lower fissure for centuries though, but the sensor sweep is reading an intense, lingering chroniton flux."

At Tactical, Rrawran let out a low, rumbling growl, his claws hovering over the targeting matrix as the translation matrix chimed. "Chroniton radiation... a localized temporal displacement."

"As this wasn't complicated enough," Blake muttered lowly with a shake of his head watching while eagerly the probes continue to map the subterranean hoping to confirm the status of the remaining away team minus any additional temporal shenanigans.

"That wreckage is our shuttle," Anzai said softly, looking up from her monitors to meet Targaryen's gaze as the implications sank in. "It didn't just crash down there during the collapse. It was thrown backward through time."

The Commodore sighed as he let the weight of what was revealed sink in, and the reality of their temporal incursion. The shuttle had somehow been plunged back in time during the incident and, more to the point, the likelihood that their crew had done the same was a scary prospect. He paused as he considered the implications, realizing something just as odd. "Lieutenant, didn't you just detect Commander zh'Roothi and the natives?"

Anzai’s fingers hovered over her controls, double-checking the telemetry streams to ensure her sensors weren't playing tricks on her.

"I did, Commodore," Anzai confirmed, her voice holding a steady, analytical focus despite the surreal data on her display. "Commander zh'Roothi's biometric readings are actively moving through the lower conduit right now, in real-time, but the Robert April sitting in that lower fissure has been down there for centuries. The chroniton signature suggests the shuttle fell through a localized temporal fissure during the seismic collapse and was cast back into Iocarro's past," Anzai explained, turning from her console to meet Targaryen's gaze after having overlaid the active tracking grid directly on top of the ancient crash site. "Commander zh'Roothi must have evacuated before the shuttle was pulled through, or we are looking at a temporal duplicate."

"Or are we peering into the past? Wilkan questioned. "The Dominion believed this species to be extinct..."

"It's possible, Sir," Anzai replied, recalibrating the lateral array to cross-reference the atmospheric probes with the chroniton decay. "This could be a temporal echo, or bleeding historical telemetry into our sensors, but if those life signs are real and anchored to our present, Commander zh'Roothi is alive down there right now standing right above a shuttle that's been decaying beneath her feet for hundreds of years."

Wilkan sighed, "I hate temporal mechanics."

"I believe we're peering through a, localized, temporal rift." Ash commented, quietly. "The possibility remains of, one or the other, Robert April being a quantum duplicate, but that would hardly account for the presence of a native population believed long dead by the Dominion. Could the Dominion be incorrect? Perhaps." She added and glanced the direction of the Commodore. "Of course, we could be the ones in the past, peering forward through a temporal rift, at a Robert April in the future...our former present, but I'm fairly certain that I would have noticed a multi-century, shift." She mused, with a little shake of her head.

Sora shook her head. "Don't be so certain. The vast majority of temporal shifts are often not noticed immediately. While I was with Temporal Investigations, I came across a case of a Vulcan vessel, in pre-Federation times, that underwent a temporal shift of 150 years back in time during a long-range survey. They only noticed when they finished their mission and returned to Vulcan, five years after they were dropped into the past. Time travel is good for one thing, and one thing only, and that is causing migraines."

She stood from the Operations console and turned to Wilkan. "We are dealing with a potential major temporality crisis here. That means certain regulations are activated. Until we are able to determine what has been shifted in time, and what has not, Enterprise must not take any action that could lead to damage to the timeline, as per the Temporal Prime Directive. Furthermore, as per Temporal Regulation 17, section 3, as the ranking Temporal Agent on this vessel, I am authorised to countermand any order given by the Commanding Officer that risks violating the TPD. This authority extends as far as relieving you of command if necessary, sir."

Wilkan slowly turned his head, his eyes locking onto Sora Bernadotte with unyielding focus.

In his centuries of life, Wilkan had seen empires crumble and had buried more officers than this young agent had ever served alongside. Yet with Zhora zh'Roothi buried beneath a churning basalt collapse, and the rest of their away team still missing in action, Bernadotte chose this exact moment to stand on his Bridge and recite regulations.

He offered no debate, no defense, and not a single word. He simply stood like marble, his absolute silence crashing over the Bridge like a sudden drop in pressure. The seconds dragged, heavy and suffocating, until the air felt brittle. He held her under the weight of a gaze that had stared down Admirals and the cold void alike, completely undercutting her grandstanding and leaving her to sit in the heavy, uncomfortable quiet she had created.

The Commander took a deep breath. "I am not saying that because I believe that to be a likely situation, I am saying it because I am required to do so by section 1 of that same regulation. I will, however, exercise the authority given to me by section 5, which is that I am hereby assuming the position of ranking science officer, so long as it takes us to determine when we are, as well as determining the temporal situation down there on the planet."

She turned to Anzai. "Lieutenant Sulu, I need you to do a full sweep of Enterprise and her surroundings for any temporal radiation that may indicate a shift. Correlate that with readings of our position relative to the galactic centre, as well as the positions of other celestial objects, in order to determine our current space-time location."

With a sigh, Sora looked around the bridge. "Unfortunately, we cannot continue our efforts to retrieve our crew until we have determined whether we have experienced a temporal shift ourselves. We can only continue to try and determine their location and status with what we have already deployed." Finally, she resumed her station and took a large gulp from her ever-present mug of strong coffee. "I was temporally shifted myself, and am a Temporal Agent. I love temporal theory and all that. But Gods do I hate actually having to deal with time travel."

Commodore Targaryen turned, his expression softening slightly from marble into the focused intensity of a veteran commander.

"We don't know who the victim of this temporal incursion is, Commander," Wilkan said, his voice steady and inclusive. "Dominion records state the native population of this world has been extinct for centuries. Yet our Counselor sensed living minds, and we have active biometrics. Our team is down there right now, right in the thick of it. If this timeline has already been disrupted, our crew may be the cause, or they may be the key to fixing it. If we halt our efforts, we leave both them and ourselves blind. Reaching them isn't just a rescue mission anymore; it's how we gather the ground truth we need to protect the continuum."

Wilkan looked directly at Bernadotte, offering a firm, respectful nod that validated her position. "We need your expertise here, Sora. Lead the science team on that chroniton telemetry and advise us on the temporal risks every step of the way, but we do this together, and we don't abandon our people while we figure it out."

He took a step toward the command well, bringing the full crew into his line of sight. "Lieutenant Sulu, work with the Commander, but there are five other members of that away team unaccounted for. We need to find them and establish communications if we're going to ever figure out exactly what happened," he offered a brief, knowing glance toward Sora, "or what is supposed to happen here. I want the Harriman prepped and pattern enhancers ready, but can we interface with the shuttle's systems to establish two-way communications with the rest of the away team? We'll need their eyes on the ground if we're going to figure this out."

Sora nodded. "While the TPD and associated regulations prevent us from deploying anything else until the nature of the situation is established, we can certainly use what we've already got down there. Believe me when I say this, sir, I hate the fact that we are having to deal with regulations at a time like this. But ignoring them and possibly causing severe paradoxes, that would be much worse."

She turned to Anzai. "Sulu, I need that data, and I need it now. We need to know when we are, and it better be when we are supposed to be." With that, the Commander pulled out a datachip similar to the one she had used to override Enterprise's systems during the DS47 crisis, and placed it on her console without plugging it in. "Commodore, before you start worrying about me taking over the ship again, this is simply an archive of history files. It's been encrypted on a Terran chip for security reasons, as, well, nobody on this ship has clearance to read any of it for the next four hundred years or so. But what's in these files might help us figure out what's going on, should we discover that we are the ones that have been time slipped."

"I respect the necessity of the Temporal Prime Directive, I truly do, and those regulations exist for very good reason," Wilkan continued, his tone shifting into the grounded, pragmatically sharp cadence of a captain who had spent centuries navigating Starfleet’s rigid guidelines, "but regulations are a framework, not a straitjacket. They dictate what we must preserve, not how we adapt on the fly to fulfill our mission. We bend where we must to protect the timeline, but we do not break and we certainly do not abandon our officers while hiding behind a rulebook. Besides, simple logic points to the most probable scenario: Enterprise is sitting in stable orbit, anchored by constant stellar cartography telemetry. It is far more likely that the Robert April and our away team were caught in a localized subterranean temporal slip during the cavern collapse than this entire starship shifting unnoticed. We are in our present; they have been dropped into the past or are standing right above it."

He gestured toward the encrypted chip, "That said, I am never one to turn down actionable intelligence. If those historical files can clarify what we are seeing in that cavern without compromising the continuum, then by all means, use them."

Sora simply nodded, hoping that that would not be needed. Everything hinged on Enterprise's location in time.

"Lieutenant Sulu, execute the temporal sweep and verify our timeline as Commander Bernadotte requested. Sora, lead the analysis, cross-reference your files, and tell us how to navigate this anomaly. Ash, keep those pattern enhancers prepped, and I want that shuttle ready to go and I want continued efforts to reach our crew, using our already in place equipment."

"A communications solution is in place...the pattern enhancement network is prepped and operational and prep of the shuttle is in progress, sir." Ash responded, quietly, and looked to Anzai. "Lt. Sulu, your sensor sweep of The Enterprise will turn up a small concentration of chronitons on the bridge that is localized to my person." The Chief Engineer explained. "They are a reality of my physiology, nothing more." She added, with a glance to Bernadotte.

Bewildered by Ash's comment Blake turned away from his console to look in her direction before his gaze shifted over the others gathered. Dylan wasn't confident he'd hidden his own surprise at just how casually the Chief Engineer mentioned this odd phenomenon.

"Acknowledged, Commander," Anzai said, her tone crisp and professional as her hands began flying across the LCARS interface, "Filtering out local Bridge bio-variance now." She initiated the ship-wide sweep, the console emitting a series of low, methodical chimes as raw astronomical data flooded her displays. Pulsar timing arrays, stellar drift baselines, and local chroniton density maps compiled into a definitive, high-resolution visual overlay across the Science station.

"Running the cross-reference against stellar cartography baselines... now," Anzai explained, her eyes tracking the waveforms as they locked into place. "Pulsar telemetry from the core matches our exact epoch. Temporal sweep of the Enterprise hull is completely nominal; no chroniton decay, no localized displacement. The present year is 2439."

At Tactical, Rrawran let out a low, satisfied rumble, his broad shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch as his dark eyes scanned his console's targeting grids. The Rorworr tapped a sequence of keys, isolating the micro-probe telemetry route down in the subterranean shafts. "Commodore, the micro-drone relay has successfully bridged the signal gap through the Robert April's secondary antenna array. I am holding a stable, tight-beam audio and data link directly into the Robert April."

Wilkan took a measured step toward the tactical rail, his eyes remaining fixed on the glowing subterranean map. The tension on the Bridge hadn't vanished, but the baseline reality was set. They knew where—and when—they were.

"Excellent work, all of you," Wilkan said smoothly as he walked toward the Tactical rail behind his chair. He looked next to Commander Bernadotte, "Open a channel to the XO."

Sora let out a deep sigh of relief. "Thank you, Lieutenant." She glanced at Wilkan, then turned back to her console. Instead of hailing Commander zh'Roothi, however, she entered a few commands into the system. "Galatea," she finally called out to the ship's AI. "Using the parameters I just entered, execute a temporal integrity evaluation of this entire system. Just because we know what year it is here, we still have no idea what year it is down there. Once that is done, open a channel to Commander zh'Roothi as requested by the Commodore."

A hologram materialized smoothly near the command well. Galatea smoothed her lapels, her eyes flashing with razor-sharp intelligence and a dry, knowing smirk as she approached the Commodore. "Executing temporal evaluation now, Commander," Galatea said, her voice warm, yet laced with sarcasm. "Though monitoring forty thousand ship functions while untangling chroniton-laced telemetry is usually how I keep from getting bored. You're welcome." She flicked her wrist, sending a floating LCARS display shimmering toward Sora, her expression sharpening into pure tactical focus. "Pulsar telemetry confirms Enterprise is firmly anchored right here in 2439. My hull hasn't shifted an inch."

Galatea's eyes swept the subterranean data, narrowing as she cross-referenced the sensor waveforms. "However, the lower strata isn't just bleeding chroniton radiation... it's actively distorting our local sensor feeds. The probes aren't reading two distinct time periods down there; the chronitons are throwing the telemetry out of phase. Commander zh'Roothi and the away team aren't just standing above an ancient crash site, they are in the past. That wreckage is fresh to them, but the chroniton field is scattering the signal across a three-hundred-year window, making them look local to us. We're holding a live, cross-temporal link directly into Iocarro's past."

She folded her hands behind her back, her tone dropping into a dry, lethal calm. "Tight-beam bridge through the anomaly is stabilized, Commodore. Channel to the XO is open—try not to collapse the timeline while you talk to her."

Wilkan squared his shoulders, stepping up to the central rail as Galatea’s report settled over the Bridge. The reality of a cross-temporal comms link was unprecedented, but his face remained unreadable - the picture of steady, unyielding command. He smirked as he answered the hologram, "I'll do my best to keep the space-time continuum intact."

"Enterprise to Away Team. Commander zh'Roothi, do you read?" Wilkan questioned, his voice projecting with calm authority into the tight-beam bridge spanning three centuries of rock and temporal distortion. "Zhora, report status. We are standing by to assist."

"I knew it", Sora muttered to herself under her breath as she looked at the data projected by Galatea. As she was reading, she was silently tapping her right foot, until she gripped her knee with her hand to stop the involuntary movement. Then, as she continued reading and listening to the Commodore calling Commander zh'Roothi, she started tapping the side of her chair with her other hand.

Commander Randall debated, with herself, for a few moments over the potential, temporal, adoration at hand and had to agree that they were, currently, in the midst of a mess that was going to pose serious issues. Commander Benradotte had reason to be anxious as the Commodore attempted to contact zh'Roothi. They were opening Pardoras box.

Galatea’s warnings lingered over the Bridge like an ozone charge as the main comm-array hummed to life. At the Tactical rail, Rrawran modulated the signal filters, damping the feedback loop created by the subterranean chroniton flux. A sharp, high-frequency squelch tore through the overhead speakers, cutting through the ambient hum of the Bridge consoles. The tight-beam link spat out a harsh burst of static, heterodyning violently before a heavily distorted, warbled response fought its way through three centuries of temporal distortion.

"...En—p-prise to... Away T-Team..." The audio whipped with a sharp, metallic pop of chroniton discharge, dropping in pitch like a dragging data stream before snapping razor-sharp and crystal clear through the bridge speakers. "Commander zh'Roothi, do you read?"

Wilkan’s own voice echoed back to them off the subterranean bulkheads down on Iocarro, carrying that faint, eerie temporal resonance.

Then, a fresh voice broke through the channel; warm, breathy with exhaustion, but unmistakably Andorian.

"Enterprise, I read you," Zhora’s voice filled the Bridge, relief bleeding plainly through the speaker array. "It's good to hear your voice, sir."

Wilkan’s unyielding posture at the tactical rail didn't break, but the tension in his jaw relaxed a fraction of an inch as her signal held steady. He leaned slightly toward the primary comms pickup, his voice projection calm, steady, and razor-focused.

"The feeling is mutual, Commander," Wilkan replied, his tone carrying cleanly down the tight-beam bridge. "We have isolated your position via a micro-probe mesh network, but be advised, your signal is riding a heavy temporal wave."

He paused, glancing briefly toward Science where Anzai and Sora were actively tracking the temporal telemetry streams. The signal on the Bridge speakers gave a soft, rhythmic hiss of static, pulsing in time with the chroniton bleed three hundred years in the planet's past.

"We are reading significant environmental interference down there, but our priority is locating the rest of the team," Wilkan continued, his voice direct and unshakeable. "Galatea and Science are monitoring the temporal bleed from the Bridge. Report your physical condition, Zhora, and update us on any sign of the others. What is your situation at the crash site?"

As the Commodore and the XO were speaking, Sora kept her eyes fixed on monitoring the temporal situation surrounding them. The link appeared stable enough, although there still was a chance of that changing at any moment.

"I'm a little battered and bruised," Zhora reported. "But nothing serious. I've not seen the others since the cave in, they could have been trying to call but my badge was lost too," a harsh sound of interference on the channel almost covered the Commander's audable sigh before she continued. "The shuttle is intact, systems are very limited with emergency power down to twenty eight percent."

Another interuption flared on the channel: " - confirm local civilisation having befriended some juveniles, unless I've mistaken their signals the adults are not so tolerant of outsiders. Has the probe network found any dwellings or society - could be where the others are being held if discovered?"

"Acknowledged, Zhora," Wilkan replied as he reviewed the sensor feed. Hearing her confirm she was mobile was a welcome relief, but the reality of the caverns was getting uglier by the second. "The micro-probe mesh is expanding through the subsurface and we're working to trace the team's lifesigns. Our scans confirm an extensive subterranean network and populated districts down there. If the rest of the away team was intercepted by the locals, that's almost certainly where they've been taken.

Wilkan took a half-step toward the main viewscreen, his jaw set as he delivered the critical context, "Zhora, exercise extreme caution. You're standing in Iocarro's past, approximately 300 years, and operating alongside a civilization that our records list as extinct. Every step you take down there is a risk. Don't attempt to power up the April's primary systems or trigger an automated return; the energy spike could collapse the local temporal pocket or compromise the timeline. Hold your position at the crash site, use emergency power to maintain environmental shielding, but stand by. Once we find the others we'll have further instructions."

Leaving the channel active, Wilkan turned toward the rest of the Bridge crew, "Filter the probe network for any communication bleed or power signatures matching Starfleet equipment within those subterranean districts. If the first team is being held or escorted by the locals, I want their location mapped and shared with the Commander before this temporal channel shifts on us."

"Filtering the network now," Blake replied attuning the parameters to the new specification.

"Acknowledge Enterprise, will maintain position."

Meanwhile, the channel to the surface and the past remained open to Commander zh'Roothi: "Acknowledge Enterprise, will maintain position."

It was at this time the preparations made by Urvasi and Mira had finished. Urvasi hit her comm badge and sent, "Bridge, Shuttle Bay 3, Lieutenant Elandorn, the Type 19 Shuttlecraft John Harriman has been prepared for a rescue mission. It is equipped with Medivac and Rescue Modules. It is standing by with redundant telemetry if need for remote piloting is required. Otherwise, Ensign Yumerieva as Engineer and Myself as Pilot are standing by, with request for Medical and possibly Security to join. Awaiting orders."

"Stand by at this moment, Lieutenant," Sora replied before Wilkan got the chance. "Until we know more about the nature of the temporal disruption, it would be very unwise to risk deploying another craft, especially with crew."

Shuttle Bay 3

Urvasi responded with, "Temporal Disruption? Uh, understood. Shuttle Bay 3, Lieutenant Urvasi, Standing By." She removed her hand from her comm badge and looked at Mira, then said, "Okay, things are going awry in several directions. So, we wait. Let's head over to the launch bay lounge to get ourselves refreshed and some nourishment.. besides waiting at a moments notice to launch."

Mira took in a deep breath, let it out, nodded while saying, "Yes Sir", then turned and headed for the lounge.

With a concentrated frown, Sora leaned forward as her leg began involuntarily tapping again, though this time she ignored it. "Galatea," she requested after a moment of studying the data. "Can you locate the epicentre of the temporal fracture?"

"I have already calculated the epicenter, Commander," Galatea stated as her program processed the telemetry. "It originates directly beneath the collapse site, within the primary drainage conduit above where Commander zh'Roothi's life signs are located."

At Tactical, Lieutenant Rrawran let out a deep, resonant rumble from his chest. His pale eyes flared as his massive hands danced over his console to keep the comlink locked onto the Away Team. A synthesized translation chimed immediately after his guttural vocalizations, "The signal is fluctuating, temporal resonance is increasing along the link."

Anzai’s fingers flew across her LCARS interface, her Betazoid empathic sensitivity picking up the tension rising across the Bridge. She focused entirely on her displays as raw telemetry flooded her screen, trying to keep her own anxiety at bay. Multiple datastreams scrolled over her screens, giving them the miracle they were waiting for. "Commodore, I’m picking up a dense cluster of artificial power signatures indicating a major central settlement carved directly into the basalt strata."

Wilkan turned away from his Captain's Chair and approached the Science Station, a hopeful smile trying desperately to come across his face as he neared the console. "Well, it would appear that we've been able to peer into the past and see the dead, but I'm more interested in the living, Lieutenant. Have you found the away team?"

"I'm detecting faint, scattered Tricorder energy bleeds," Anzai replied, her voice steadying as she locked the signal into her tracking grid. "The harmonic resonance matches Starfleet issue. If the rest of the team was captured, Sir... they're inside that city!"

"Transmit those coordinates directly to Commander zh'Roothi," Wilkan ordered as he stepped behind the Science console, leaning over Lieutenant Sulu’s shoulder. He analyzed the subterranean complex and the incoming telemetry, noting that their geothermal core was on the verge of a catastrophic meltdown, likely the exact event that eradicated the Iocarrans centuries ago, leaving their away team trapped right in the middle of it.

He looked back at Anzai, offering a brief, approving nod. "Excellent work, Lieutenant. We have our target area. Now, we need options—specifically ones that won't risk our crew or cause further temporal incursions."

Sora closed her eyes and winced as a sudden, stinging headache came over her. However, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. She shook her head briefly, then projected all currently available data onto the main viewscreen. "The signal from the rest of the team is extremely faint," she pointed out. "Definitely not clear enough to lock on to. Reconfiguring the transporters to compensate for the temporal shift wouldn't be much of a challenge. But we need to get a clearer signal." She glanced at the chip she had put down on top of her console. After brief hesitation, she plugged it in, and immediately, the Terran insignia flashed across her console, along with a prompt to enter security information.

"Galatea, isolate my console from the ship's data network. Make sure none of the data on this chip is touched in any way by the central computer. Temporal Prime Directive stuff." As soon as she had confirmation that the data was not going to go anywhere else, she entered the key to access the files and began searching. A few moments, she cursed.

"Bad news, everyone. You're half right, Commodore. It's not just likely to be the exact extinction-level event. Cross-referencing the history files I have here with the temporal displacement our people are currently experiencing, they're right in the middle of it. At least time down there appears to be moving at the same speed as here, so we have a little bit of time. But, judging by the state of the core, we're looking at one or two hours at best."

Commander Randall listened to the back and forth on the bridge while she engaged in a, back and forth, of her own over possible solutions.

The Bridge fell quiet as the crew processed the information that Commander Bernadotte shared. Commodore Wilkan Targaryen stood motionless behind the Science console, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the frame as he studied the rendered subterranean schematic. Decades of command had taught him to read a tactical display not merely as lines of light, but as a living landscape, and right now, that landscape was a meat grinder waiting to claim his people.

He turned from the monitor and walked back toward the command well, remaining imposing, an unyielding anchor for a crew currently staring into the dizzying maw of a temporal paradox. Sinking into the Captain’s Chair, he rested his fingers on the armrest interface. With practiced ease, Wilkan entered a five-key sequence into the armrest pad, then linked his chair directly to Tactical.

"Commander zh'Roothi," Wilkan said into the tight-beam channel, "we’ve located the away team inside the Iocarran city, but their geothermal grid is going critical. Zhora, this is the disaster that wiped them out and you're all standing in the middle of it. Hold your position at the Robert April and don't engage the locals or reach the city alone."

"You can't be serious!" the Andorian responded hotly through the channel, clearly disagreeing with the instruction.

"I'm completely serious, Zhora," Wilkan fired back, his voice an unyielding iron wall. "You going into a dying city blindly solves nothing. Hold position while we formulate a plan. Out."

The Commodore sighed as he addressed the crew still on his Bridge. "Our team is split across two points locked inside a historical disaster. Commander Bernadotte, work with Lieutenant Sulu and Galatea. I want precise temporal boundaries drawn around that city and the crash site. Find me the exact windows where the chroniton density thins, because that is where we are going to punch our retrieval link through." He leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping a final confirmation key on his armrest. "Ash, stand by on those pattern enhancers. When we get a lock, we won't have more than a fraction of a second to pull nine people out of three hundred years ago. Let's make sure we're ready."

"Aye, aye. We have everything staged and ready to go the instance lock is achieved." The Chief Engineer confirmed, quietly.

The static on the tight-beam channel dissolved into a heavy, expectant silence, leaving only the steady, rhythmic hum of the Bridge consoles. On the main viewscreen, the violent, churning atmosphere of Iocarro spun in silent defiance, concealing a dying civilization and a fractured away team three centuries in the past. The clock was officially ticking—a ninety-minute countdown to a subterranean catastrophe that threatened to swallow their crew and rewrite history.

Wilkan’s fingers lifted from his armrest interface as he surveyed his Bridge. Though the situation was a temporal nightmare, the hesitation had vanished. Roles were assigned, parameters were set, and the line was drawn. Down in the basalt shadows, Zhora would hold her ground, while above, the crew of the Enterprise raced against time, physics, and the ticking pulse of an ancient volcano to pull their people back from the dead.

"Let's get to work," Wilkan murmured into the quiet.

Across the Bridge, keypads chimed and sensor grids flared to life, setting the stage for a desperate rescue into the past.

RSS Feed