Star Trek: The Lost Era - 08 - 2319 - One Constant Star

by David R. George III

  Harriman longingly regarded the Sea of Marmara, where Amina still sat in the restaurant, finishing their commemorative dinner without him. He really hoped that he could get back to her before too long. When the operations center had contacted him about the message, he hadn’t asked his aide to come into the office, but as the minutes dragged on, he wondered if he should have brought Lieutenant San Luis in; somehow, Juan always managed to speed things up and get things done. Without him, Harriman thought, I don’t know if I could’ve held on to this position for so long.

  A few minutes later, just as he considered contacting operations to ask about the delay, the communications panel on his desk chirped. “Ops to Admiral Harriman.”

  He quickly moved behind his desk and sat down, where he tapped at the communications-and-computer interface. The Helaspont Station emblem—a stylized epsilon over a silhouette of the starbase—disappeared from the screen, replaced by the image of Ensign Bartels. “Harriman here,” he said. “Go ahead.”

  “I’m sorry for the wait, Admiral,” Bartels said. “The transmission required a heavy level of decryption. The message is now available, keyed to your biometrics.”

  “Thank you, Ensign. Harriman out.” The admiral closed the channel, then called up the incoming transmission. After voice-print and retina scans, he read the source of the message: Enterprise. Wondering what his former first officer wanted, he started playback. The image of Demora Sulu did not appear on the screen, though, but that of her own first officer, Xintal Linojj. As she identified herself—though she needn’t have, since she had served as Harriman’s second officer for four years—he noticed that she sat in the captain’s office. He also saw, to his horror, that she had been dismembered, that her right arm ended in a silver cuff just below her shoulder. He felt immediate concern for both Demora and Xintal, former crewmates whom he still counted as his friends.

  “Admiral, I’m contacting you for Captain Sulu,” Linojj said. She then related a tale about the Enterprise crew finding a world that had experienced an asteroid strike and the impact winter that ensued—a world with an industrial but pre-warp society that appeared to have somehow escaped their planet. In the course of studying the absent civilization, three officers, including Demora Sulu, passed through what they later determined to be a one-way portal to another location, possibly to another time, possibly to another universe.

  Another universe, Harriman thought, pausing the message. He remembered his own experience with Demora—What? Twenty years ago? After a covert mission into Romulan space, the two of them had been inadvertently thrown into another universe. He recalled those days in the warp shuttle with her, the terrible sense of isolation they shared, despite having each other to lean on, their sorrow and feeling of tremendous loss. They had eventually escaped what could have been a lonely fate, but Harriman had thought at the time that their return home had mostly been the product of mere good fortune. He still thought that.

  Harriman resumed the message. Linojj detailed the way the Enterprise crew communicated with Demora through the portal. The first officer talked about how the device had lost power, temporarily cutting them off from their captain. “Once we restored the portal’s function by carrying it from the planet’s surface up into space, we sent another probe through it, carrying a message to the captain and the other stranded officers. We provided the orbital coordinates for the device. When one of the shuttlecraft arrived on the other side of the portal and we looked through its forward viewport, though, we did not see Captain Sulu—not Demora Sulu, anyway; we saw her father.”

  Hikaru is alive? Harriman thought. He had difficulty believing it. Starfleet had lost contact with the elder Sulu’s ship, Excelsior, more than a decade earlier. After enough time had passed, it had been assumed destroyed with all hands. Harriman had attended the memorial, and he’d comforted Demora about the loss of her father. That he had been found alive must have astounded her and made her so happy.

  “Demora’s father held up a padd against the port, and we read its scrolling message; it told us the story of the Excelsior,” Linojj went on. “Long before the Enterprise arrived at Rejarris Two, the Excelsior crew had a catastrophic encounter with the portal. The ship ended up passing through it, but was crippled beyond repair. The crew had abandoned Excelsior before it was ultimately destroyed, and they ended up on an uninhabited world, with no means of getting home—or even of knowing where they were. They survived as best they could.”

  Poor bastards, Harriman thought. He knew how terrible it had been simply to be faced with the possibility of such an existence. How much worse to actually live it.

  “Then, after eleven years, the Excelsior crew received a message in their only remaining escape pod that still had any power,” Linojj said. “It was from Captain Sulu—Demora—as she searched the planet for the people who had constructed the portal and presumably escaped through it. The Excelsior crew attempted to reply to her message, but couldn’t, so they used their escape pod to track her down. When they found her, though, she and her two crewmates had just been attacked by native wildlife. One officer was killed, and Demora suffered life-threatening injuries; according to what the Excelsior crew told us, she is currently in critical condition. The Excelsior’s chief medical officer doesn’t know how long she can keep her alive without access to a sickbay to treat her.”

  The irony did not escape Harriman. For Hikaru to be missing all these years, but still alive, and then for Demora to end up finding him, but to be so badly injured . . .

  “Demora is unconscious, and there’s no guarantee that she’ll survive her injuries,” Linojj said. “Before she lost consciousness, she told her father to have me contact you. She wanted me to tell you that she confirmed an ‘Odyssey solution.’ ” Linojj stopped and looked away for a moment, as though gathering her thoughts. “The Enterprise crew have been working on trying to figure out how the portal functions so that we can find a means of bringing all those lost Starfleet personnel home. So far, we’ve made no progress. We would request that Starfleet Command send us help from the Corps of Engineers, but we’re on the cusp of Tzenkethi space; we can’t just move in a massive research team.” Linojj shrugged, an awkward gesture with her missing arm. “Admiral . . . John . . . I don’t have any idea what Demora meant, or even if her words can be taken seriously, considering her condition at the time she said them. I researched Odyssey in the library-computer and found nothing but a reference to an ancient human literary work.”

  Linojj could find nothing on the star that he and Demora had dubbed Odyssey because Starfleet did not know it by that name. Regardless, Federation charts marked the entire region around it as hazardous to navigation. The star’s effects—like his and Demora’s covert mission into the Romulan Empire—remained classified at the highest levels of Starfleet Intelligence.

  “John, there are five hundred and sixty-five members of the Excelsior crew still alive on a desolate world, and they’ve been marooned there for eleven years. Even if we can find a way to get them back, it’s going to take time . . . maybe a long time . . . and definitely more time than Demora has left. If there’s anything you can do . . . or if you even just know something that could help us . . .”

  It seemed to Harriman that Linojj wanted to say more, but he didn’t know what else she could say. She had a terrible problem, impossible for her to solve, and so she desperately searched for any possible answer, no matter how unlikely. He couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t blame her at all—even though he wanted to.

  “Please let me know, John,” Linojj finished. “I hope you and Amina are well. Enterprise out.”

  The message ended, Linojj’s visage replaced by the Helaspont Station insignia. Harriman thought about playing it again, but he really had no need to do so. He had no way of knowing if he could save Demora Sulu and her father and the surviving members of the Excelsior crew, but he could try. More than that, he knew that he had to try.

  “Damn,” he said in a whisper. He deactivated the
interface. Beside it sat a framed hologram of Amina. A candid shot, it had been recorded at the wedding of two of their friends—a wedding at which he had officiated and she had performed a reading. In it, Amina wore a flattering black gown, and at the moment the image had been captured, she had her head thrown back, laughing through her beautiful smile. It was his favorite holo of her, since it so perfectly depicted who she was. He loved her more than he ever thought he could love anybody, and yet, from one day to the next, his love for her only grew. It seemed impossible, but then, wasn’t that what love was supposed to do?

  Harriman stood up and glanced through the outer wall of his office, toward the Sea of Marmara arm of the station. He wanted to go back to the restaurant, back to Amina, so that they could enjoy their anniversary celebration. It hurt him that he couldn’t do that. And it hurt him even more that the life that he knew, the life that he had built together with Amina, might have just ended.

  Harriman picked up the framed hologram of his wife and marched out of his office.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Sasine stood in the doorway that led from the living area of their quarters into the bedroom. She watched for a moment as her husband extracted clothes from his closet and stowed them in a duffel. It saddened her that not only wouldn’t they have time to take leave anywhere near their anniversary, but it appeared that the one night and one day they’d counted upon being able to spend together might not materialize either.

  “What’s happened?” she asked. John jumped, startled. He evidently hadn’t heard Sasine enter their cabin. That’s never a good sign, she thought. John is usually so observant. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” John said. He walked over to Sasine and kissed her, then wrapped his arms around her body. “I’m sorry about dinner.” After he had left the restaurant, she’d continued with her meal. As a matter of course, she didn’t mind dining alone, but she would have preferred to share their anniversary dinner with her husband. Still, she understood the dictates of their positions and accepted the reality that their duties sometimes interfered with their personal lives. She had certainly been required to leave John by himself on any number of occasions.

  “It’s fine,” Sasine said, waving away the apology. “We should both be accustomed to it by now.” Not long after John had left the restaurant, he’d contacted Javier and asked him to inform Sasine that he would likely be unable to return there that night. Not wanting all of Georges’ kind efforts to go to waste, she finished her meal—a deliciously tender eggplant, layered with a Gruyère cognate, spiced with basil, and topped with a saffron custard, followed by strawberries drizzled in dark chocolate and Grand Marnier Cordon Rouge. “I really think it’s Chef you need to ask to forgive you,” Sasine said lightly. Though Rochambeau hid his emotions well, Sasine knew that Georges had to be disappointed that his specially prepared dinner had not been enjoyed in the way he’d envisioned. Sasine departed Sur Le Mer Coucher with a promise to Chef that she and John would dine there again very soon.

  “He may never let me back in the place.”

  Sasine shrugged. “Georges might not mind shunning a Starfleet admiral, but I think he’ll be careful not to take issue with the commanding officer of the space station that hosts his restaurant.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” John said. “Sometimes I forget how formidable you can be.”

  “Does that mean I need to find a way to remind you?” Sasine taunted.

  “Oh, no, believe me, I remember.” John took her by the hand and led her out of their bedroom and into the living area. They sat down on a sofa beneath a wide port that looked out onto open space, the stars glistering like jewels in the night. “I need to tell you what’s going on.”

  “I already know about the Cassiopeia,” she said. “Ops contacted me after I left the restaurant.” The beta-shift duty officer, Lieutenant Esther Freemantle, had notified her that Admiral Harriman had rerouted a nearby starship to Helaspont Station. The Constellation-class Cassiopeia, designated NCC-2531, would arrive at the starbase within eighteen hours. “Is there anything you need from me, other than one of my docking bays?”

  “Actually, there is,” John said. “I need to disembark almost all personnel from the Cassiopeia, except for a skeleton crew.”

  The request surprised Sasine. “Assuming that means you’ll keep twenty or thirty officers aboard, you’re still talking about Helaspont providing accommodations for more than five hundred personnel.”

  “I know you’ve got the trade summit beginning in two days, so it won’t be a simple matter,” John acknowledged.

  “No,” Sasine said, already trying to work out the logistics in her head. “I don’t know why you need a starship with a skeleton crew, but wouldn’t it be possible to utilize either the Kazanga or the Marvick?” As soon she asked the question, she realized that John would already have asked it himself.

  “The Kazanga is a science vessel, and the Marvick is a support craft,” John said. “I need a ship that’s larger and faster.” He paused, then added, “I also need one with more firepower.”

  Sasine didn’t like hearing that. Rather than respond as a wife concerned about her husband’s safety, she continued to speak as the commanding officer of Helaspont Station. “How long will the Cassiopeia’s crew be here?” she asked.

  John shook his head. “I don’t know.” The reply seemed out of character for him, since he normally took a detail-oriented approach to his duties.

  “Can you at least give me an idea?” Sasine asked. “A week? A month?”

  “Perhaps longer,” John told her quietly. “Potentially much longer.”

  “ ‘Much longer’?” Sasine blurted, her reaction more that of a wife than of an officer.

  “All I can tell you is . . . maybe,” John said. “I honestly don’t know.”

  John’s answers had begun to alarm Sasine, and so she took refuge in her role as a Starfleet captain. She stood up from the sofa and paced across the room. “Admiral,” she said carefully when she turned around, “removing most of a starship’s crew and relegating them to an indefinite period of shore leave is an act that typically requires the involvement of Starfleet Operations.”

  “I’m aware of that, Captain,” John said, without rancor. They had long ago learned how to conduct their professional relationship in a manner divorced from their marriage. “But on the edge of Tzenkethi space, contacting Starfleet Command about this situation, enduring the inevitable debate, and then waiting for a decision would take far too long. As an admiral-at-large posted to Helaspont Station, the needs of Starfleet in this region dictate my movements and missions. I have a great deal of autonomy.”

  “I know,” Sasine said. “I know, but . . . with all due respect, sir, the imprecise reassignment of a Constellation-class starship and most of its crew is an action at the very limits of your authority.”

  John looked at her for a long time, his face a mask. She could almost always tell what he was thinking, but that time, she couldn’t. She hoped that he didn’t think that she’d overstepped her bounds as a captain . . . or as his wife. Finally, he said, “What I’m doing may be beyond the limits of my authority.” He stood up. “It doesn’t matter. I have to do this.”

  Do what? she wanted to know, but she couldn’t ask. She trusted that John would tell her all that he could. She waited.

  “Amina, please come here,” he said gently, motioning toward the sofa. “Let me tell you what’s happened.” Sasine crossed the room and they sat down together again. He took her hands in his. “I received a message from the Enterprise.”

  “From the Enterprise?” Sasine said. “I thought Demora was out in unexplored territory.”

  “She is, but not all that far from Tzenkethi space, just a few days from here at high warp,” John said. “Except that I didn’t hear from Demora; I heard from her first officer, Commander Linojj.”

  Sasine experienced a sinking feeling. “Has something happened to Demora?”

  “Yes,” Jo
hn said, and Sasine could see the pain in his eyes. She felt the same emotion. “She’s been badly injured. She’s received medical attention, but she needs the support of a sickbay to have any chance of survival.”

  “And obviously the Enterprise can’t provide that for some reason,” Sasine concluded. “That’s why you’re commandeering the Cassiopeia.” She offered her words as observations, not as questions.

  “In part, yes,” John said. “Demora and two of her crew were unintentionally thrown onto an unpopulated, undeveloped planet in another universe. They arrived there after traveling through a portal that functions in only one direction.”

  “Do you intend to abandon the Cassiopeia and send it through the portal, then?” Sasine asked. “So that Demora’s crewmates can somehow get her aboard in order to get her to the ship’s sickbay.”

  “I do plan to get Demora into the Cassiopeia’s sickbay,” John said. “But there’s more to it than that. There’s something else that’s happened. It turns out that eleven years ago, the Excelsior also passed through the portal.”

  “Demora’s father?” Sasine asked, feeling her eyes go wide.

  “Hikaru Sulu,” John said. “He and almost six hundred of his crew have been stranded on that empty planet for all of that time. They’ve lived a rugged existence, and they need to be rescued.”

  “Which is why you require a larger starship,” Sasine said. “You want to provide a place for them to live.”