Where Time Stands Still

by Dayton Ward

  “Sensors are offline,” Xav shouted over the rising din as the ship seemed hell-bent on shaking itself apart. “I cannot tell how far we’ve moved through the barrier.”

  His hands gripping the arms of his chair to avoid being thrown to the deck, Okagawa said, “Hang on, people. This will pass.”

  It was several more seconds before al-Khaled sensed his dizziness waning. The blur of color began to pull apart and resume familiar shapes on the console before him, and he could already feel his queasiness ebbing. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, however, unleashed a sharp reminder of the abuse his body had just undergone.

  “Commander zh’Rhun,” he heard Okagawa say, “collect damage reports from all decks.” Even the captain sounded as though he was still recovering from the effects of their transfer through the rift.

  “Reports are coming in already, sir,” the Andorian replied, “but no indications of any serious damage.” Al-Khaled noted that her left antenna seemed to be drooping, lying almost flat atop her pale white hair in a sure sign that the commander had also been rattled by their passage. “Systems that were disrupted during the transition are returning to normal.”

  In front of him, Rodriquez reported, “I can confirm that, Captain. Helm control is restored.”

  “Sensors are clearing,” Xav added. “Once we passed through the barrier, all instruments began to register and record normally.”

  Okagawa nodded and looked up at the main viewer. “So if everything is okay, then I guess I’d better get used to seeing this, eh?”

  Feeling comfortable enough to look away from his own console, al-Khaled turned to get his first glimpse at what lay inside the Delta Triangle. Struck first by the curtain of rich red rather than the all-too-familiar black star field, he could hardly believe his eyes as he beheld the score of spacecraft now depicted on the viewscreen.

  “Scotty’s reports don’t do this place justice,” he said, rising to his feet as he regarded vessels he recognized drifting alongside those whose origins baffled him. Any imaginings of the interior of this rift he may have conjured from reading the Enterprise’s reports paled in comparison to this array of derelict ships, each hanging motionless in a sea of ruby-tinted light.

  “A little caught up, Mahmud?” Okagawa asked.

  “Oh, yes,” the engineer nearly whispered in reply. Grasping for something to say that might seem appropriate to the vista displayed before him, he added, “It’s like time-traveling through a history of spaceflight.”

  Their moment of shared awe was broken by Pzial, who, al-Khaled noted, was literally sitting on the edge of his seat, his bright red eyes wide in wonder. “That’s a Rigelian border frigate,” the communications officer said, pointing to a squat, boxy vessel near the top of the viewscreen. “The markings are unmistakable!”

  “And that is a Duroc-class cargo freighter,” Xav said, tugging a tuft of hair on his chin. “By Kera and Phinda, my grandsire crewed on a ship just like that.”

  “So much for calm, professional detachment,” Okagawa said in a mock defeatist tone as he toggled the intercom control on the arm of his chair. “Bridge to engineering. Mr. Grace, we’ve crossed into the rift. How are things holding up down there?”

  Though he knew that the Lovell’s chief engineer undoubtedly had his hands full monitoring and calibrating the modified deflector shields, al-Khaled was not surprised when Grace promptly replied, “The shield generators are performing flawlessly, Captain. Everything is well within tolerance levels.”

  “Keep me informed of any change, Commander. Okagawa out.” He tapped the control with the bottom of his right fist, severing the connection before turning in his chair to face Pzial. “Ensign, let’s test the subspace beacons. Try to raise the T’Saura.”

  “Already doing that, sir,” the Rigelian replied with an obvious tone of pride at his own efficiency. “They are reporting a clear signal on their end.”

  “Excellent,” the captain replied, clapping his hands together in satisfaction as he rose from his seat. “I suppose we should announce our arrival to our hosts. Open a channel to the Elysian Council.” There was a pause as Pzial activated the frequency, which had been identified and recorded by the Enterprise’s communications officer during her ship’s encounter with the Delta Triangle.

  After getting Pzial’s nod to proceed, the captain cleared his throat and said, “Elysian Council, this is Daniel Okagawa, commanding the Federation Starship Lovell. We have come on a mission of peace, and I request to meet with you in order to discuss a matter of some importance.”

  Several moments passed before Pzial turned from his console and shook his head. “No response on any channel, sir.”

  Al-Khaled felt a pang of disappointment at the ensign’s report. Had they traveled all this way simply to be ignored? Would the people of Elysia forsake them, refusing even to acknowledge their greeting?

  It was a feeling that vanished quickly, however, along with Captain Okagawa.

  The bridge of the Lovell had dissolved into an orange burst of energy that seemed to overload Okagawa’s vision as a tingling sensation played across his exposed skin that was not unlike what he experienced when being transported. Then it was gone, the strange haze of color fading to reveal the sweeping arc of a semicircular meeting table appointed with twelve high-backed chairs. Each seat was occupied by a representative of a different species—Orion, Romulan, Klingon, Andorian, Phylosian, Vulcan, Tellarite, Gorn, along with a few that Okagawa did not recognize.

  “Captain Okagawa,” a soft feminine voice said, and he turned to where the Orion, a woman, was seated. “Welcome to Elysia. I am Devna, interpreter of laws.”

  Studying the green-skinned woman, Okagawa noted her lithe form, dark hair that swept down past her shoulders, and bright eyes that seemed to bore straight into him. He was familiar with Orion females and the captivating beauty they commanded, of course, but he had encountered them in person only on infrequent occasions. It took him an extra moment to realize he was staring, and he blinked several times in an effort to refocus his attention on the matter at hand.

  Eyes on the mission, Daniel, he reminded himself, and not the host.

  “Thank you, Devna,” he replied. “I appreciate your granting me this audience. As I stated before, I am here on a peaceful mission, representing the United Federation of Planets.”

  “We know all about your Federation, Captain,” a deep male voice said. Its owner was seated near the center of the curved table, and Okagawa recognized the man’s clothing as being Romulan in origin. “I am Xerius,” he said. “Given the short span of time that has passed since your comrades visited us, I trust they are your reason for being here.”

  “After a fashion,” Okagawa answered. “That ship’s captain made a full report of his experiences here, but he’s not the reason we’ve come.”

  Xerius nodded. “In your transmission, you mentioned discussing a matter of importance. Given that you appear to have arrived here of your own free will, are we to assume that you have found a method for successfully navigating through the barrier that surrounds the Delta Triangle?”

  “That is correct, sir,” the captain said. “We’ve made some technical modifications to our vessel’s systems that will allow our departure once our business here is concluded.” He watched as a wordless wave of skepticism crossed the features of the council members in response to his statement. Some of them turned to each other and nodded almost condescendingly.

  Undeterred, Okagawa pressed on. “At the request of the people of Valzhan, we’ve come on a mission to contact and, if possible, retrieve the crew of a ship that became trapped here hundreds of our years ago. We’re also willing to provide that same capability to anyone who wishes to leave Elysia.”

  A string of chattering noise erupted from one of the council members, a red-hued, insectlike being, which culminated in a sound that seemed to the captain as reminiscent of a human chuckling. In response to this outburst, the lone Klingon seated at the table expre
ssed himself in a manner Okagawa had seen many times in the swarthy, aggressive race: He released a booming, hearty laugh.

  “That’s very presumptuous, Earther,” the Klingon said. “We have built a model society for ourselves here. Why would we want to return to the life of struggle and conflict that you apparently still enjoy?”

  “Please, Kelthos,” said a wide-eyed woman who spoke in a thickly accented voice, “open yourself to this idea. Not everyone shares your unwavering desire to remain here, after all.” Okagawa noted that the woman’s head was encapsulated in a transparent dome, presumably a device that allowed her to breathe freely within the council chamber.

  Seated farthest to the captain’s right, the Gorn hissed and clicked something in its native language, leaning forward in its chair as it did so. The action caused its large muscles to ripple beneath thick, green-scaled skin.

  “Yes, Glind,” the woman said, her voice carrying what Okagawa perceived as a hint of exasperation as she turned to the Gorn, “we know you will never leave here, but as much as my people have embraced Elysia, this eternity of peace and goodwill has come at the cost of our physical freedom. Many of my people—myself included—still long for home beyond the confines of our native spacecraft, a place to feel the warmth of the sun or a fresh breeze across our faces.”

  Okagawa noticed the shock of surprise that seemed to grip several of her companions, most notably Kelthos, who folded his arms and sat back in his chair, his expression indicating that the Klingon was through with the current conversation.

  “It seems obvious,” Devna said after a moment, “that the captain’s arrival and pronouncement have given us new fodder for debate.” To Okagawa, she said, “Make no mistake, Captain, though we live in peace as a requirement for our survival here, we do not always agree on all matters. Many of us have been here for centuries, and as a consequence, we are unaware of what has transpired outside the Triangle. As for your offer, there are many among us who will be intrigued by the possibility of returning to normal space. Of course, anyone who wishes to go may do so, and everyone will undoubtedly be interested in learning as much as possible about the worlds we left behind. Regardless, many of us have long since come to accept that this will forever be our home.”

  “We are not here to impose our wills upon any of you,” Okagawa replied. “We will offer safe passage out of the Triangle for anyone who wants it, or my people can teach you what you need to do to your vessels so that you can leave on your own terms. You don’t have to stay here, not anymore.”

  Indicating the other eleven council members flanking her at the large table, Devna said, “As you know, several of the races represented here were bitter enemies at one time or another. It would be interesting to learn if such situations were ever resolved. Do enemies now live in peace, or do they even exist at all? These are just some of the many questions that we have.”

  Okagawa nodded. “I’d be lying if I said that the rest of the universe had achieved the level of collaborative spirit that you seem to share among yourselves in this place. You’ve demonstrated that even bitter rivals can find common ground upon which to build a lasting friendship. In fact, I have no doubt that you would have much to offer by virtue of the example you’ve created here.” As he spoke, he found himself looking once again at the wide-eyed alien woman, her face partially obscured by a glare reflecting off the surface of her protective helmet. Still, he saw her offering what he took to be a reassuring smile, and he realized that he had made at least one convincing connection among these people.

  One step at a time, he thought.

  “You raise an interesting notion, Captain,” Xerius replied. “However, you must remember that given the rather peculiar nature of our situation, we were forced to undertake actions, many of them very drastic, in order to forge our society rather than descend into chaos. We have long since come to believe that such success cannot, in many instances, be enjoyed outside Elysia.”

  Frowning at what he considered to be a near condemnation of the rest of the universe, Okagawa almost as quickly conceded that the Romulan may well have a point. For a moment, he imagined how the Elysian form of cooperation might work if employed on Nimbus III, a planet located near the Neutral Zone where Federation, Klingon, and Romulan representatives had agreed to live together in the interests of fostering peaceful relationships between the three peoples. At last report, the so-called “Planet of Galactic Peace” was going through more than its share of growing pains, and many sociopolitical experts as well as the usual assortment of cynical naysayers were already foretelling the colony’s eventual collapse.

  The problems these people face are magnified exponentially compared to Nimbus, the captain mused, and yet they made it work. What does that say about us?

  “It is a most unexpected and generous offer, Captain,” Saraven said from where he stood before the expansive table of the Elysian Council. “However, it is one I must decline.”

  Tall and wide-shouldered, the Valzhan wore a simple arrangement of dark green robes that seemed to heighten his already bright amber complexion. His long gray hair was gathered at the nape of his thick neck, helping to frame a face lined deeply with age. Okagawa could not help but be impressed with the commanding air Saraven affected.

  His eyes seeming to focus for a moment on some wistful memory, the Valzhan said, “Do not mistake me. Of course there is much about life on my homeworld that I miss. I was the patriarch of a large family at the time of my departure, but when I took command of our vessel so long ago, I made a commitment to the people traveling aboard it. That we arrived here instead of a planet we sought to colonize is not relevant, for my duty to those I lead has not changed.”

  “Indeed,” Xerius said from where he sat near the center of the elongated conference table, “Saraven has become one of our most trusted advisers. His was among the first ships to arrive here that was designed for long duration, deep-space flight. It carried a variety of essential supplies and materials that the Valzhan graciously offered to share with the rest of Elysia. Saraven’s is a voice of reason and leadership that truly helped to create the lasting community we enjoy to this day.”

  As he listened to the elder Romulan’s words, Okagawa tried his best to ignore Kelthos, who was just visible behind Saraven and who was making no effort to hide the smile of smug satisfaction creasing his dark features. Okagawa knew that the council member was not his enemy, but he decided that even the uncounted years Kelthos had spent among the Elysian community had done little to dull the edge of his typical Klingon sense of self-importance.

  Keeping his attention focused on Saraven, Okagawa said, “I understand and respect your position, sir, though I hope you will at least communicate our offer to the rest of your people.”

  The Valzhan nodded. “Indeed I shall, Captain, but do not be too hopeful of spiriting many of them away with you. Life on my world was not pleasant, with clashes and clan disputes that sometimes lasted for generations. Elysia has given us a different way of life.”

  “You’d be happy to hear that life on your planet has progressed quite well in your absence,” Okagawa said. “After a prolonged war, your people have thrived, and they were recently accepted as members of our Federation. Working in cooperation with us and the many other civilizations we represent, the quality of life on Valzhan will only continue to improve.”

  He held out a padd that he had asked Lieutenant Xav to transport to him from the Lovell. “This contains a history of your family.” He paused for a moment, unsure of how the next part might be received by the Valzhan captain. “I regret to inform you that several of your children, including your eldest son, were killed during the war, and your clan was among those who suffered many losses as the fighting dragged on. Those who survived have played an integral part in the progress your world has made. It’s quite an exciting time for them, actually, but they very much want to know that you and your people are safe.”

  Saraven said nothing for several seconds, no doubt conte
mplating the sobering news. Even though the tragic events had occurred centuries ago, Okagawa knew that the Valzhan captain’s sense of time had been skewed by his lengthy stay here in the Triangle, perhaps even to the extent that his memories of home were as fresh and vibrant as the day he had departed on his ill-fated journey.

  Finally, he said, “Perhaps you would be so kind as to take word back that we too have found peace and contentment, albeit of a different sort. And there may be those who wish to go with you. In that event, we will craft a suitable presentation to convey to our homeworld.”

  Buoyed by the progress he was making, however small it might be, Okagawa smiled. “It would be my honor, sir.” Turning to the council members, he added, “Naturally, we would do the same for anyone who requested it.”

  “In the spirit of cooperation that is the hallmark of Elysia,” Devna replied, “we will do all we can to assist those who wish to leave. However, do not be surprised if your offer is received with less enthusiasm than you might expect.”

  While he respected his audience enough not to dispute out loud what the Orion woman said, Okagawa could not fathom anyone’s desire to remain here. To be cut off from everything and everyone he had ever known, locked in this pocket of space that hovered outside the regular universe for all eternity, even when a means of escape was provided? The very notion was anathema to everything the captain held dear. Could life here truly be that rewarding and fulfilling?

  Ask that again, he reminded himself, after you’ve lived here a thousand years.

  Chapter

  5

  “The Phylosian ship is exiting the rift now, Captain,” Xav reported from the science station on the Lovell’s bridge.

  Turning from his own console, al-Khaled was in time to see a long cylindrical spacecraft waver and coalesce into existence on the main viewscreen. Though he had seen the effect repeated with half a dozen other vessels over the past two days, the sight still engrossed him. More than simply being a ship emerging from the depths of the Delta Triangle into real space, it represented a group of people freed from a prison and given the opportunity to return to the lives so cruelly taken from them.