by David Smith
This would reduce the strain on the crew. They were down to three hundred and eighty-nine staff, and that included eighteen Yeomen and the Captain who were of no practical value. Worse still, most of the forty-odd shortfall fell in the Operations Department, and it would be them who felt the strain of the Yellow Alert status.
However, if they did hide in Treaty Exploration space they’d have no opportunity to find out more about this supposed parallel universe. Whilst Sector 212 would offer them a lesser degree of safety, there was a decent chance of finding out what was happening within this universe, especially if they risked making contact with Terran Empire forces.
Dave wondered about the Fleet’s Prime Directive of non-interference. A standing instruction, the theory ran that becoming involved in the affairs of an unknown species was detrimental for the ship and potentially disastrous for the development of the species involved. This had been proved time and time again by early encounters of the Fleet’s ships, particularly with less-developed species.
Then there was the proposed Temporal Directive, which if anything was even more important and relevant. A tiny and apparently inconsequential change in the past could have far-reaching effects in the present or future. Dave had to assume that the same could logically be said about alternate universes.
Would the arrival of Tiger trigger a change in this universe’s history? Were they already wreaking untold havoc just by being here? His headache was getting worse, but there still wasn’t a single aspirin on the entire ship. In their haste to depart from Arcturus over three months ago, it was about the only thing on the ships inventory they hadn’t replaced, having used their entire stock in a desperation-inspired trade with a shady businessman at Hole over a year previously.
Dave retired to his quarters, where the stress of the day finally overwhelmed him. He collapsed on his bunk and fell into a deep, deep sleep.
Chapter 4
‘Bridge to Commander Hollins.’
Dave didn’t stir.
‘Bridge to Commander Hollins.’
‘Awww! It’s still early, mum. Five more minutes?’
‘BRIDGE TO HOLLINS. PLEASE RESPOND!!’
‘Yeah, ma, I’ll be up in five . . . ’
‘YO HOLLINS, GET YOUR TIRED ASS TO THE BRIDGE!!!’
Dave woke with a start. ‘Hollins here. Did someone just call me?’
ASBeau’s voice answered. ‘Sorry to bother you, Commander, but there’s a situation that requires your attention. Would you be so kind as to join us on the Bridge?’
Dave was sure he heard sniggering in the back-ground. ‘Yeah, on my way.’
Three minutes later Dave was on the Bridge looking like the unmade bed he’d just grudgingly left. ‘What’s happening? Can I get some coffee?’
He slumped into the Captain’s chair by force of habit. His seat, The First Officer’s Station, was to the rear of the Bridge at the Captain’s right, but as no-one else ever used the Captain’s chair, it had pretty much become Dave’s property over the last nine months.
ASBeau pulled up a forward camera angle on the main view-screen. ‘We’re near to the boundary between Sector 244 and Sector 212. Crash has dropped us out of warp earlier than planned as we found this.’
On the screen, a huge floating space station, apparently identical to the one they’d berthed at around Arcturus, hung in deep space.
Crash continued ‘According to our records there’s supposed to be a small space station here to serve as a combined Relay Station and trading centre for small commercial transactions. When we got close we could see that, which seems to be a fully-fledged Star-base in the middle of nowhere.’
ASBeau zoomed the camera in and swept across the facility. Dave could see a hive of activity, including a whole flotilla of ships that were a mix of standard commercial vessels, a few ships of familiar Starfleet designs and one or two ships of designs that he didn’t recognize.
The station itself was a carbon-copy of Arcturus station that they’d visited just a few months before. The head of the station included the main docking and repair facilities in a mushroom-dome structure topped with delicate, filigree spires of communication and scientific equipment.
Below this were myriad leisure and accommodation floors arranged in a neat cylindrical body, and at the very bottom of the station, a large globe contained the facility’s own warp core which provided power, heating and light for the whole station.
It was a design used throughout the Federation, normally in solar systems where there were no suitable planets on which to construct a base.
Still half-asleep, Dave asked the question that everyone else had already asked themselves. ‘Why the hell is there a Star-base in the middle of nowhere??’
ASBeau answered. ‘On reflection, we reckon this isn’t the middle of nowhere anymore. If the Sha T’Al have forced the Empire to retreat from Sector 244, the next sector back is probably the frontline of the war-zone, and that’ he said pointing at the screen ‘would be the Empire’s forward command post.’
Dave couldn’t fault the logic. Having lost ground, the Fleet would shore up the defences of the next Sector back to try and prevent the Sha T’Al making further in-roads to Empire territory.
The Steward arrived with a steaming mug of coffee. Dave took it gratefully and sipped it slowly. Waking up now, he realised the question was not ‘Why is that here?’ but ‘Do we try to communicate with them?’
He pondered. They were so out of their depth here it was unreal. They had no idea what sort of reception they’d get. It could be a ‘welcome to the fight’ type happy reaction, or a ‘die alien spy scum’ knee-jerk reaction, or just about anything in between.
Tiger did still hold a couple of trump cards. They already knew that both Sha T’Al and Terran Empire weapon systems had failed to gain a lock on Tiger due to the coating of caramelised LOAVEs on her outer surfaces.
It was also a racing certainty that Tiger was still the fastest ship in space, and with the drive operating at full capacity, she’d be travelling backwards in time, making escape from a difficult situation a foregone conclusion.
If they didn’t communicate, they’d learn nothing and would have to try and find somewhere to hide in a galaxy full of unknowns. But if they could establish communications, they might find out what the situation was, where they’d be safe, and more importantly when and how this universe had diverged from their own. That in particular might give some clues about how to get back to their own universe.
‘Ok team, listen up. I’m going to try communicating with the Empire forces. They may be different politically, but they’re still human, so I hope they will sympathise with our plight and help us if they can.’
‘But we can’t do it recklessly. ASBeau, weapons and shields on standby. Crash, get thrusters, reaction drive and warp drive powered up and ready to rock in case we need to make ourselves scarce. O’Mara, ASBeau, all sensors up, watch out for signs of weapons being deployed and any ship movements.’
‘Shearer, transmit standard friendship messages, all Fed . . . uh . . . Empire frequencies.’
‘Aye sir.’
He took a deep breath. ‘Open a channel.’
There was a brief pause before a small green light on the console in the arm of his chair indicated that they were transmittting.
‘Imperial Star-base, this is Commander David Hollins of the Federation Starship USS Tiger. We have been transported here via a dimensional transfer and are attempting to find our way back to our own space. Can you assist us?’
Dave closed the comm-link and waited for a reply.
‘Readin lawdsa signel traffic sir,’ said Shearer quietly ‘Al encrypted an non direc to uz.’
Dave tried again.
‘Imperial Star-base. This is the Federation Starship Tiger. We require assistance. Can you help us?’
There was another pause, broken only when O’Mara quietly said ‘They’re scanning for us. Every sensor on every ship has gone into over-drive. They’ve raise
d shields and powered up weapons but are holding station.’
Dave didn’t like this. They were massively out-gunned by the Star-base, and in addition to the huge arsenal at her disposal, the attendant fleet of Starships also mustered enough fire-power to make very short work of Tiger if things went south.
Dave was just about to order a withdrawal when Shearer said ‘Incomin comms, sir!’ and immediately patched it through to the Bridge’s main view-screen.
A young Commander appeared. He seemed distracted and nervous, and Dave couldn’t help but notice that his uniform was similar to their own, but was much more ornate. Larger rank markings on his collar, a gold sash across his chest, no sleeves. More disconcertingly, he carried a phaser on one hip and some kind of dagger was openly visible on the opposite side.
Gathering himself, the Commander looked Dave up and down distastefully before spitting out a reply. ‘Well Hollins, what game is this? Trying to extricate yourself from the chaos you caused in Sector 193??’
Dave was speechless. What was he talking about?
The young Commander sneered as he continued ‘Yes, I know who you are Hollins! You can’t fool me. I was there in Sector 193 when the Third Fleet crushed your pointless rebellion. You may have got away then, but we’ll catch up with you soon enough. And when we do, I’ll take a personal interest in your arrest and interrogation.’
Dave gathered himself and tried to clarify the situation. ‘I’m sorry Commander . . . ‘ the Star-base Commander didn’t help by giving his name, but Dave continued anyway. ‘Um. You may have mistaken me for someone else. I’m Commander David Hollins, First Officer of the Federation Starship USS Tiger. We believe we have been transported into your space from a parallel universe by a warp-drive anomaly. We mean no harm, we simply want to return to our own space, and are hoping you may be able to assist us.’
The face of the Commander twisted in rage on the screen and he seemed ready to explode ‘Don’t play games, Hollins!! You can’t get away with your treachery! The Empire has been torn apart trying to fight the damned aliens and your rebellion at the same time! We’ll get you and every one of your filthy, terrorist scum and you’ll pay dearly for your actions!’
Suddenly the Commander’s face changed, and Dave realized he’d received another communication. The colour drained from his face, and his fury was replaced with abject terror. He barely had time to squeak ‘Commander Nixon out’ before his comm-link closed and was replaced by another signal from the Star-base.
His image was replaced and Dave immediately recognised the face on the other end of the new link.
‘IZZY!! Thank god!! We’re in such a mess! How did you get here?? We don’t have a clue how we got here and . . . ‘ Dave paused.
From the other end of the link Isobelle Grosvenor regarded him very, very carefully. As always, she was immaculately made-up and her hair was a familiar, perfect, neat bob, but she was . . . different.
‘You’re . . . er . . . out of uniform Commander?’ said Dave, actually blushing a little.
On screen, Izzy lounged in a large, almost throne-like chair. She was dressed from head to toe in soft, close fitting black leather, pinched in at the waist by a tight corset. Her tunic had a high, stiff collar that peaked either side of her chin, and from there plunged downwards past her solar plexus, revealing smooth, flawless skin on a huge expanse of very firm, very impressive (and very enticing) cleavage.
Good friend or not, Dave had a momentary lapse of concentration as he wondered what was keeping those spectacular breasts in place, and he missed the momentary flash of confusion on Izzy’s face.
‘I am Magistrate Isobelle Grosvenor, recently appointed Governor of Sector 212. I believe we may be able to assist you with your problem, but you would need to discuss the details with my scientific staff.’ She paused momentarily and smiled a warm friendly smile that made Dave ever so slightly nervous. ‘Could I suggest you take station at the Star-base and transport across with your senior staff to give us a full briefing on what’s brought you here?’
Alarm bells were ringing in the back of his mind, and the hairs were standing up on the back of his neck, but . . . it was Izzy. In another universe, but still Izzy, a ship-mate and a friend.
She stared at him coolly, as if sensing his unease. She smiled again, and Dave had a sudden inkling of a saying his dear old granny used to come out with about cats and cream or some such. ‘It’ll be good to talk . . . David . . . to . . . er . . . catch up a little?’
She pressed some buttons located in the arm of her chair, and as she did ASBeau said quietly ‘The station and all ships are standing weapons and shields down, scans are dropping back to usual levels.’
‘Uh . . . thank you . . . Magistrate Grosvenor, if you send us co-ordinates, we’ll bring Tiger in and transport over. Hollins out.’
The link closed and Dave was woken from his ponderings by Crash’s voice ‘Co-ordinates received, Commander, taking us to a berth approximately ten klicks astern of the Star-base.’
Whatever it was that was making him feel uneasy would undoubtedly go away when they met Izzy. Or make itself very apparent.
--------------------
Dave waited in the Transporter Room. Lieutenant-Commander O’Mara had come down from the Bridge with him, they’d met Commander Mengele in the turbo-lift and Commander Romanov and Lieutenant Jonsen had come up from Engineering.
Still slightly uneasy, he’d called Chief Belle and asked her to assign a Security person to the party. When PO Sorenson duly arrived, they gathered on the Transporter platform and were beamed across to the Star-base.
As the odd tingling sensation of the transport beam faded, Dave’s vision cleared and he found himself facing Magistrate Grosvenor.
She was still dressed in tight black leather, and Dave couldn’t help but admire the way the outfit accentuated her curves. Ridiculously high heels added length to her legs and tensed her calf muscles to add and attractive curve to her lower legs. Dave focused very, very hard on this in an effort to stop his eyes wandering upwards and staring at her gravity-defying, eye-popping cleavage.
The distraction of Izzy's cavernous cleavage meant that Dave barely registered the six security men stood around her with phasers drawn.
He did notice it when one of them shot him.
--------------------
Back on the Bridge of Tiger, ASBeau instinctively knew something had gone wrong.
Hollins knew his job, and when he hadn’t called in to say they were safe, ASBeau had no choice but to assume that they were in danger. With Mengele, Romanov and O’Mara all having gone across to the station too, he was on his own (apart from the Captain, which didn’t really count.)
He needed to think and act fast, but his instinctive urge to open fire on anything that looked like a threat was probably not the best course of action. Sitting uneasily in the Captain’s chair, he mulled it over and made his decision. He opened some comm-links from the arm of the chair and said ‘Lieutenant Shearer, Lieutenant Stallworth, Lieutenant Sato, Chief Deng, PO Park, Ensign ARSE and Chief Belle meet me in the Officer’s Mess immediately. We have a situation and we need to make some contingency plans.’
--------------------
Dave woke up a few hours later on his own in a cell.
Every sinew in his body ached from the cellular disruption effect of a phaser set for stun. The feeling had been described to him before, but it was a painful lesson to learn for real.
He sat up cautiously and looked around him. Bare walls. A fixed bunk that he'd been lying on. A force-field in the only gap in the cell walls. He recognized it, as not long ago he’d been on the other side of such a gap, talking to Crash who’d been thrown into an identical cell. He was in a high-security cell on a Star-base.
Beyond the gap in the cell wall stood an armed man, presumably part of the stations security staff, dressed in the same variation of a Starfleet uniform that Commander Nixon had worn. As Dave stirred, he approached the comm-set built into the wal
l opposite the cell, pressed a button and said ‘He's awake Ma'am.’
Shortly after, Dave heard the door to the cell block open, followed by the clip-clop of very high heels and the rustle of soft leather. Magistrate Isobel Grosvenor swept into view, and stood regarding him carefully from the far side of the force-field.
‘Well, well. What do we have here?’ she said, as if to herself. ‘Dave Hollins, leader of the Sector 193 rebellion, in a fake Fleet uniform. And a pretty poor fake at that. How strange.’
Dave gingerly stood up and pleaded his case. ‘I don't know what's going on. I'm Commander David Hollins, First Officer of the Federation Starship Tiger. As I tried to explain in our comms, we believe we've been transported here from a parallel universe . . . ‘
‘Yes, I heard all that drivel!’ said the Magistrate dismissively ‘How you expect anyone to fall for that is beyond me.’
She paced up and down outside the cell. ‘Yes. Clearly a tissue of lies, but you have presented me with something of a conundrum. Or rather your crew have’ she smiled slightly. ’I assumed you were planning some kind of trick and were about to do something wild and unexpected as you usually do, so I had my best men waiting for you and took no chances. But when they shot you, I immediately noticed Lieutenant-Commander O'Mara and Doctor Mengele. That had me confused. I couldn't work out what the angle was there, so I took DNA samples from all of your team and when the answers came back I had to admit there was something happening that was beyond my understanding.’
She narrowed her eyes and watched him carefully. ‘They really are O'Mara and Mengele. Our medical staff have tried everything they can think of, but nothing stacks up, unless they are the most perfect clones ever created. Which would obviously beg the question, how did you rebel scum gain access to such advanced technology? And what on earth would be the advantage of replicating two of my staff and three members of the crew of ISS Tiger?’
‘And then there’s the small matter of how a low-life bunch of dirt-digging rebels happened to come by what appears to be an operational and intact ‘Constitution’ class heavy-cruiser when there doesn’t seem to be one missing? A heavy-cruiser with some kind of advanced screening technology too, but that identifies itself to our tactical systems as ISS Tiger? And I happen to know that the real Tiger is actually in the disputed zone undertaking a secret mission as we speak.’
