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Series One is a series of roleplay stories by Grand_Tarkin following the events surrounding the first interactions between the Coalition of Federation Planets (the successor state to the United Federation of Planets) and Doggerland. In addition, Series One continues the story of the 23rd century ship, U.S.S. Enterprise (NCC-1701-B), and their travels to the 31st century.
Series One is ongoing.
Episode 1: "Message in a Bottle"
EPISODE 1: 10/29/2020 - 11/5/2020
Part 1
Meanwhile, five months ago...
"Captain’s Log, Stardate 60935.3, Captain Harriman reporting. It’s been three months since we arrived here, and we’re no closer to finding a way home. My orders to the crew have been simple: we’re still Star Fleet officers, so we’re still going to carry out our mission. I don’t even know what our mission is anymore. We’ve surveyed sections of the Sol System, but without warp drive it’s taking us a long time to get around. So much has changed. I suppose my hope is to find some kind of anomaly, some kind of… anything to get us back home. The crew haven’t lost hope, but I fear the day is nearing when we will have to accept our condition, and learn to live with the fact that we now live in the 31st century. End of log."
Harriman stands from the desk in his ready room, loosening his collar. He picks up a picture on his desk, it is of a young woman smiling with a dog in her arms. He smiles contently. Suddenly, the comm system is activated. A voice is heard.
"Yellow Alert. Yellow Alert. Captain Harriman to the bridge."
Harriman puts down the picture, re-adjusts his collar and walks out of the ready room. He enters the bridge. "Report, Commander.", Harriman says looking towards the First Officer, Commander Daniel Jacobs.
"We've detected a probe, bearing 474 mark 183. Distance, 18,000 kilometers.", Jacobs relays.
"What kind of probe?"
The Operations Officer, Mr. Hawk, speaks, "The hull signature appears to be of Starfleet origin, however we cannot be sure from this distance."
"Helm, lay in a course."
"Aye."
Harriman turns to Jacobs, with his hand rubbing his chin. "What do you think?", Harriman says in a lowered tone.
"Well... it could be Starfleet. They could've figured out what happened and have sent a probe to find out. It could be a rescue.", Jacobs says.
"I didn't ask what it could be, I asked what you think?"
Jacobs sighs, "A life boat from the 23rd century, sent to us just as our hope begins to decay. Seems a bit convenient to me, Sir."
Harriman nods, his hands now by his side, "Yeah.", he says reluctantly.
"We are within visual range.", says the Tactical Officer, a human.
"Onscreen."
The viewscreen activates, displaying the probe. It is advanced, modern. It doesn't appear to be of the same design as a 23rd century probe. However, it is distinctively Starfleet.
"Analysis, Mr. Hawk."
The Operations Officer continues to check his station console before responding, "The hull configuration and spectral analysis confirms, sir, this is a Starfleet probe. However, it does not appear to be of any known Starfleet design."
"Can you bring it onboard?", Jacobs says.
"Yes, sir.", Mr. Hawk replies.
"Activate a tractor beam, tow it into Hanger Bay Two. Mr. Hawk, you're with me. Mr. Jacobs, you have the bridge.", Harriman says, standing up. He walks towards the turbolift, with Mr. Hawk following.
Part 2
Harriman stands in the turbolift alongside his second officer, Mr. Hawk. His typical smile is not on displace and his hands fidget by his side. He does not say anything to Mr. Hawk as the lift descends. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Mr. Hawk speaks up.
"Captain, may I make a personal inquiry?"
Harriman, who had been zoned out for the first part of his sentence, re-entered reality. "Hmm?".
“Ensign Torra and I are getting married…”
“Well that is wonderful news, congratulations.”
“Thank you, Sir. I was wondering whether you would consider performing the ceremony?” Hawk nervously looks straight forward, avoiding eye contact with Harriman.
Harriman’s smile returns, now larger than it has been in weeks. “Of course I will, Thomas. I’m honoured that you’d consider me.”
The turbolift arrives in Hanger Bay 2.
Harriman walks out, with Mr. Hawk quickly behind. Harriman shouts over to the group of engineers, scientists, and other Starfleet officers gathered around the mysterious Starfleet probe.
"Report, Commander."
"Ah, Captain. I don't quite know what to tell you, Sir." Barks the Chief Engineer, Josh Gillan.
“Something good.”
Gillan quietly laughs. “Well sir, it’s definitely Starfleet. Tritanium alloy compound, even the impulse signature matches a similar sort of design you’d expect from a Federation Starfleet.”
"But…” speaks Harriman.
“But… it’s far too advanced to be from the 23rd Century. Our initial scans of its power core are coming back with readings I can’t even begin to unpick.”
“Have you detected any tachyons?”
“No Sir. Wherever this probe is from, it didn’t time travel to get here.”
Harriman sighs. He moves closer to the probe and begins to closely inspect it. “What’s this pyramid structure?” he asks.
“We can’t be sure sir, but those are definitely Vulcan markings.”
“This is a Vulcan probe?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Unless Vulcan’s scrapped all of their technology and started again, this doesn’t match Vulcan hull configurations or alloy compositions.”
Harriman touches the probe… nothing happens. He walks back towards the turbolift. His smile is gone again. “Keep me posted, Commander.”
Part 3
“Captain’s Log, supplemental. Commander Gillan has found a way to activate the probe and it seems to be displaying some kind of message. The message, it seems, is from Starfleet.”
The pyramid structure has been separated from the probe. It stands on a clean surface in the hanger bay. Surrounding it: Captain Harriman, Mr. Hawk, Commander Gillan, and a number of other officers, including two security officers. Harriman nods towards Gillan and Gillan provides a confirmatory nod as he walks towards the pyramid. He is wearing a work glove. He presses the screen.
Everyone gathered look toward each other. Gillan presses the screen again, this time pressing “File Manager”.
The audio begins to play, the man on the screen speaks. He speaks with a Scottish accent, and appears to be human. He is wearing a uniform that is clearly of Starfleet, but not of a known design.
“Starfleet vessel, this is Commodore Charles Madden of the U.S.S. Zheng He. We have picked up your distress call and are on route to you now. We advise you to head to spatial coordinates 465 871 98 Mark 5. When we arrive, we will require you to transmit your ship name, ship registry, and point of origin. We will not assist you without this information. Madden out.”
Harriman, who had been standing with his arms crossed, sighs. “Patch those coordinates into the bridge, Mr. Hawk.”
Harriman and Hawk walk away from the group, who continue to inspect the pyramid. They enter the turbolift, which heads for the bridge. The turbolift arrives at the bridge.
On the bridge...
“Commander, start a sensor sweep of these coordinates.”
The first officer speaks. “Sir?”
“It appears Starfleet has sent us some coordinates.”
“… That’s amazing.”
“… Like you said, Commander, it seems too good to be true.”
Jacobs sits solemnly, thinking.
“Mr. Hawk?”
“Sir, we’re not picking up any ships in the vicinity of the coordinates provided.”
“Could there be another probe?”
“We’d need to get closer to find out.”
Harriman nods. “Helm, lay in a course and engage at maximum speed.”
The helmsman lays in the course into the console. “Aye, sir. Estimated time of arrival, four hours and thirty one minutes.”
Harriman stands. “I’ll be in my ready room. You have the bridge, Commander.”
Harriman leaves the bridge, re-entering his ready room.
Part 4
The helmsman speaks. “We are approaching the coordinates, sir.”
“Onscreen.” Says Harriman. The viewscreen is activated, displaying a planet.
“Anything on sensors?”
“No, Sir.” Repeats Mr. Hawk.
Harriman sits forward, his elbows leaning on his knees and his face in his hands. He sits up. “All stop.”
The helmsman responds. “Reading all stop.”
“Open a hailing frequency on the Starfleet emergency channel.” orders Harriman.
“Captain, if the… inhabitants of 31st century Earth pick up the hail…” says the First Officer.
“If I’m right, nobody has touched those frequencies in years – except whoever sent us that Starfleet probe. And anyway, even if they are listening… we can’t hide forever.” replies Harriman.
Jacobs, the First Officer, nods.
“Hailing frequencies open, Captain.” Mr. Hawk replies.
“Starfleet vessel. We have arrived at the coordinates you have provided. Respond.”
Several moments pass, with anticipation in the air.
Nothing happens.
“Keep repeating the message. Flood the Starfleet channels if you have to.” barks Harriman.
A flash of light appears in front of the Enterprise.
“Captain, something is coming through…”
TO BE CONTINUED...
Episode 2: "People of Arcadia"
EPISODE 2: 11/15/2020 - 11/28/2020
Part 1
The darkness of space is interrupted by an explosion, causing a shuttle to come crashing into view. The shuttle is of an unknown alien design, but appears to be venting plasma from the engines. The hull is marked with burns and damage and is not sticking to a single laid out course, likely from the result of a damaged helm system. As the ship continues, it approaches a planet.
The ship doesn’t slow on its approach. It enters the atmosphere at a high speed, appearing to burn up when suddenly a blue light encompasses the shuttle. The beam slows the shuttle down; however, it continues to fall towards the planet. The engines of the shuttle fall as the shuttle crashes into a lake close to the equator.
The shuttle lands in one of the few bodies of liquid water on the planet. It is summer time on the planet, and the shuttle has crashed near enough to the equator to find a large body of water. The shuttle’s water landing was loud, but the isolation of the lake has left the crash unheard. The shuttle, which was able to remain afloat for several seconds, begins to sink quickly.
Several moments of silence precedes the sinking of the shuttle before a man burst from beneath the waterline. Gasping for breath, the man begins to swim to shore. He is human, with noticeable scaring on his face and hands. He isn’t wearing any sort of uniform, and is completely soaked. His hair is jet black and his bag, a brown leather satchel, occupies his right side between his hand and his body. As he arrives at the shore, he crawls onto the snowy surface, lying on his back and taking deep breaths. He is shivering, but quickly stands. Despite being out of breath, the man begins to move. He rubs his hands together, jumping a few times.
After a minute or so of rapid movements, in which time he examined the surrounding area, he entered his bad and retrieves a device. The device is a tricorder, a standard issue scanning device of Starfleet officers from the 2300s, this device is over 700 years old but appears to be operational.
He scans his surroundings using the device. Despite having an antique Starfleet scanning device, no other feature of the man suggests he is from Starfleet or the Federation. His scanning points him north and he begins walking.
Part 2
A trail of footsteps in the snow follows the man as he walks through the growing white blanket, extending as far as he could see. He has re-purposed pieces of cloth to cover his face, but his jet-black hair is still identifiable through the extra layers he has put on. He continues to walk, gloveless, holding the scanning device.
As he walks he notices the elevation of his walk increase. Eventually, he begins to feel like he is climbing more than walking. His legs are aching. He continues to climb. Higher and higher as his legs begin to weaken. He reaches a turning point at the apex of the hill of snow he had been climbing. As he reached the peak, the hill began to quickly descend into a valley. At the bottom of the valley, a great city sits, shining in the light of the settling sun.
The man falls to his knees. He is too cold to cry, but he smiles profusely as he lowers his head in disbelief. After a moment of contemplation, he stands again and begins to walk down the hill and into the valley of snow.
Part 3
The man begins his trek down the hill, into the valley of the white city. As he descends, the bucketing snow turns to mere drips and the sun becomes visible once again. He slowly approaches a large gate. Constructed from concrete, the gate stands tall – thirty of forty feet high – protecting the entrance to the city. The man approaches…
“Hello….” he shouts, his voice is broken and fragile but his accent (a deep and gravelly tone) shines through.
Several moments pass with no reply. He shouts again, but this too is responded to with nothing. He goes in closer to the gate, and touches the cold concrete.
“… please…” the harshness of his voice contrasts sharply with his words. A second passes when the gate begins to open. Contracting both sides, the gate opens at the middle. The man takes a breath, straightens himself and enters.
Almost immediately, he is greeted by security. The security guards are a mix of races: Andorian, Tellarite, and a Klingon. The leading Andorian puts his hand up to the man who continues to walk.
“Halt.” the Andorian demands. The man’s eyes narrow as he stops walking. “You are human.”
“I am.”
“There has been no human on Arcadia since the Burn. Why have you come here?”
“My ship. It crashed. You know that, it was your beam that saved me from burning up in the atmosphere... wasn’t it?” Inquires the man.
“We could not allow your fuel to contaminate the atmosphere. It has taken over twenty years to clean his planet after the human mess left.”
“I am unarmed. You don’t have to point those at me.”
The other guards look towards the Andorian, who nods. They lower their weapons, keeping them in hand.
“Are you of the Federation?” demands the Andorian.
“I’m a traveler. I owe no allegiance to Star Fleet or the pathetic remains of the Federation.”
“What is your name?”
“Cal. Cal Than.” Cal removes one of the rags shielding his face, exposing the true extend of his tattoos and scars.
“You will be taken in for questioning.” says the Andorian.
“Of course.” responds Cal.
“Welcome to Arcadia, Cal Than.”
Part 4
Cal sits in a grey room. The walls are bland, besides a tonal shift in the bottom third, which is just a darker grey. There is nothing on the walls and the door blends into the wall. The room is brightly lit, and the centre of the room is filled with a rectangular table and four chairs. The table is, much like the rest of the room, tonally bland and aesthetically boring. Cal sits, leaning back into the chair with his arms crossed. The leading Andorian enters the room, along with a Klingon.
“Thank you for the DNA sample. While we wait for the results of the test to be returned, I’m going to ask you a few questions.” says the Andorian. The Klingon stands behind him, saying nothing.
“Shoot.” Cal gives a faint smile.
“Where do you originate?”
“I was born on Seau-Beta Seven.”
“A Federation world?”
“Yes.”
“You claim your vessel was crashing?”
“Yes.”
“What caused the crash?”
“I was being chased by scavenger ship, I suppose they got impatient.”
“A ship of what faction?” The Andorian places his arms on the table, staring towards Cal.
“You really haven’t been out to space since the Burn, have you?” Cal says, sarcastically.
“Answer my question.”
“They aren’t of any faction. They’re just scavengers. They roam the quadrant on impulse hoping to find a slipstream ship.”
“There are scavengers near Arcadia?” The worry became visible on the Andorian’s face.
“No. I jumped from about six light-years away. Before I entered the slipstream, they got one good hit on my slipstream matrix. I was only able to make six light-years before I crashed.”
“What was the last contact you had with the Federation?”
“Two years ago. A Federation patrol vessel stopped me, demanded to inspect my cargo.”
“…and?”
“And what? They don’t have no authority any more. I jumped out of there.”
“And they didn’t pursue?”
Cal laughs, loudly and obnoxiously. “Only a handful of those old tin-cans have slipstream. I bet that ship didn’t, I was right.” As he speaks, he tilts his head to the left.
The Andorian stands, Cal sits forward. “The results of the DNA test is complete. Please wait a moment.” He exits the room. Cal returns to sitting back in his chair, staring at the Klingon who remains in the room.
Several minutes pass and Cal begins to whistle. The Andorian re-enters, holding a tablet.
“You do not contain any contagious virus and the test confirms that you are human.”
Cal smiles once again. “See.”
“I have only one more question for you.”
“Hit me.”
The Andorian looks confused for a moment, then speaks. “You would be more than welcome to remain on Arcadia and join our community. I suspect you have ulterior plans.”
Cal chuckles once again, this time quieter and more composed. “Hmm.”
“What are your plans, Cal Than?”
“If you think a crash is enough to stop a traveler in his tracks, you’ve got another thing coming.”
The Andorian nods. “We have implanted a tracking device into your system that will remain active for your stay on Arcadia. Cause no trouble, Cal Than.”
Cal stands and shakes the Andorian’s hand, he then exits the room with a characteristic swagger. The Andorian remains in the room.
The Andorian groans. “Pink skins…"
Part 5
The City in the Valley shines in the day. The narrow streets bustle with life. Merchants sell, children play, the city’s activity continue and is undisturbed by an outsider walking among them. Cal, having left the security facility, wanders the street semi-aimlessly. His head pops in and out of every other store front. He gets a smile here and a smile there, mostly from aliens who can’t tell the difference between a human and other human-like aliens. Cal stands outside a tailor shop. He stares at the sign above the door. “Tucan Tailor’s”, as displayed on the sign. There is no illuminated neon lettering, or flashy imagery. The sign is as unnoticeable as nothing – with no light shining through the windows. He enters the shop.
The door makes a squeaking ring as he enters. He carefully closes the mahogany oak door behind him, cleaning his boots on the welcome mat. There is an old woman standing behind the counter, only a meter or so away from Cal. Her grey hair blends seamlessly with her green skin. Her glasses transition from the top to the bottom of her nose before she speaks.
“The tea on Risa is very hot.” her voice is almost mechanical.
Cal looks at the woman with his seemingly constant glare.
He speaks. “But the coffee on Romulus is much hotter.”
The old lady nods, turning around and switching on a small light in the backroom. A moment passes, Cal does not move. The sound of clockwork begins, and one of the many bookshelves to his right opens into a narrow passageway. Cal enters without hesitation. Behind him, the doorway closes and the woman returns to standing behind the counter.
The doorway is narrow but extremely clean. The classic design of the shop is continued, with dark wooden paneling and dark green carpets. The entire atmosphere was very old, yet still looking brand new. Cal enters a room at the far end of the doorway. The room is not large, smaller in fact than the shop front, yet continues with consistency the design of the entire complex. The edges of the room are littered with 20th century-style desks and overhead lamps. In the middle of the room is a bed, with a man laying on it. The man is not covered, wearing only a single grey cloth. He is extremely old, and is seemingly Vulcan. He shakes and does not acknowledge Cal’s presence.
“I got your message.” quietly says Cal.
The Vulcan continues to ignore Cal and persists in his jittering disposition.
“It wasn’t easy, you know, getting here. Ever since the Burn, Arcadia has been closed to the galaxy. I’m still slightly surprised they let a human into the city.” Cal says a little louder.
Another few moments pass.
“I was sorry to hear about Empok. A tragic loss, my condolences.” his voice returns to murmur.
The mention of that name, Empok, attracts the Vulcan’s attention. He turns his head towards Cal.
“I hear you have been appointed special advisor to the Federation President.” the Vulcan speaks, his voice frail yet still invoking authority.
“The promotion came through last week. I couldn’t stay onboard Space Station Seven forever… it wasn’t easy to get permission to come here.”
“How did you convince him to allow you to come here?”
“I said that an old friend needed my help… Hello, old friend.”
The Vulcan’s jitters stop. He stands
“Hello, Cal Than. Thank you for coming.”
“When I got the signal, I was sceptical to say the least.”
“The Arcadians want nothing but peace and ignorance. While they have let you in, they will not let us leave.”
“I suspected as much.” Cal puts his hand onto the old Vulcan.
“My transponder can get a signal to Starfleet. You must authenticate it.”
“They’ll know it’s me.”
“Cal Than… this planet is a peaceful one. The Burn devastated much of the galaxy. We must return to Earth, but we must not destroy this tranquillity.”
“This place is important to you, isn’t it?”
“Arcadia is the last good melting pot of species. Nowhere else will you find an Andorian living with a Vulcan, a Klingon, a Romulan… we are all trying to recover what we lost. In that, Arcadians share a common spirit more than any species.”
“We will protect this planet.” Cal smiles, the most genuine smile he has given yet. “Now, let’s get that message to Starfleet.”
Part 6
The pair work on the console for hours. The Vulcan’s attention is unmoving from the device in front of them. Cal’s eyes, however, wonder around the room.
“Processing.” says the Vulcan. Another moment of tinkering passes. “Channel open.” he nods at Cal.
Cal hunches over. “This is Commander Cal Than requesting immediate assistance. Repeat, this is Commander Cal Than requesting immediate assistance.”
“Message sent… now we must wait for a reply.”
Cal nods before sitting down on a wooden chair besides the console.
“May I make a personal inquiry?”
Cal leans forward. “Shoot.”
“Was his death honourable?”
“… Empok?” Cal’s eyes narrow.
The Vulcan’s head nods.
Cal smiled. “He always spoke of you. I know he wasn’t allowed to show much emotion – he hid it pretty well – but he was so proud of you.”
“I wish you to answer my question, Cal Than.”
Cal sighs and sits back in the chair once again. “He died alone.” The Vulcan nods slowly. “That’s not to say he didn’t die honourably… he saved the station.” reassuringly says Cal.
“Yes. He saved your life… alone.”
Cal looks down towards the floor, allowing for a moment of silence to flood the room. Suddenly, and likely to the relief of Cal, the console makes a loud beep causing both men to jump to their feet. They approach the console.
The console is activated, and a voice comes out.
“Commander Than, this is Commodore Charles Madden of the U.S.S. Zheng He. Please respond.”
Cal leans over the console.
“Than here, sir.”
“I’m glad you’re safe. We have your coordinates and we are on route. What can we expect when we arrive?”
“Commodore, this is a very isolated planet. The Arcadians will not be glad to see a Coalition Starship on their front door.”
“Do you have a suggestion, Mr. Than?”
“Come in light. No shields or weapons. I have it on good authority that they wouldn’t pick a fight first. Show them good will, it might be enough.”
“Acknowledged. Our ETA is four hours. We will signal you when we arrive. Madden out.”
Cal stands up straight. “… and now we wait.”
The Vulcan turns. “It is likely that the Arcadians picked up the transmission. I suspect they will be able to narrow down the source of the transmission.”
“How long?”
“We cannot be sure. Though, from what I have gathered about the Arcadians, they are resourceful. I would not be surprised if…”
A loud knocking was heard from outside the hallway, back into the main shop. Several soldiers enter the Tailors, they are pointing their weapons. The old woman does not flinch, and with the same cold look she says.
“The tea on Risa is very hot.”
The leading soldier, a Tellarite, speaks. “We are looking for the human known as Cal Than.”
The old woman continues to stand her ground and unblinkingly says. “We cannot fit you in at this time. If you would like an appointment to see the Tailor I would suggest visiting our website. Good day.”
The Tellarite growls. “You will tell us where Cal Than is or we will turn his establishment inside out.”
The woman does not seem phased. “Unfortunately, the tailor is closed right now. I would ask that you leave.”
The Tellarite approaches the woman. “You are under arres….”
The woman grabs the Tellarite’s hand, which was approaching her arm, and twists it completely around, kicking him back into one of the wooden panels. The other guards begin shooting and the woman falls behind the counter. She reaches for a rifle, hidden beneath the counter, and begins firing. Back inside the hidden room, Cal and the Vulcan are listening intently when they hear the gunfire.
“We have to help her.” says Cal.
“She will be able to hold them off while we escape. Cal Than, we must leave immediately.”
Cal nods, and follows the Vulcan to the back of the room. He presses another secret button hidden as a part of the wall frame, opening another, smaller, passage. They begin to walk through the passage, which grows narrower and narrower.
Meanwhile, back in the Tailor’s shop, the guards are able to shoot the woman after several minutes of firefighting. The Tellarite regains his standing and reaches for his communicator. “This is Barneck. The human is not here.”
Over the communicator, a deep and gravely voice. “I suggest you find him before that Federation Starship arrives.”
“I intend to.”
Several hours pass. The Vulcan and Cal continue to continue through the passage which was expanded into a cave network. Extremely narrow at points, while larger at others. They are crawling through a particularly narrow section, using Cal’s communicator as a source of light.
“You say Empok died alone?” the Vulcan inquires.
“Is this really the time to be talking about this?”
“Might I suggest, Cal, that this is the opportune moment to discuss such a subject. If we are captured, we may never have this opportunity again."
Cal sighs. “Yes, he did. He was separated from the me. The containment protocols shut him off.”
“He was in the reactor?”
“He fixed the core. We had been hit hard by scavengers. If he hadn’t, the entire station would have been destroyed. He died a hero.”
“Cal, in my culture, a death alone is perhaps the worst fate of any Vulcan. Unable to share one of the most precious moments of one’s life.”
“He knew it was a one-way trip when he went into the core. He did his duty.”
“No, Cal, he did Starfleet’s duty.”
“Empok believed in Starfleet more than anybody.”
“Empok’s admiration for the Coalition was driven by emotion. Illogical.”
“You can put it like that, I choose to look at it like this: he died defending what he believed in. The fact he died alone, and its importance to him, shows that more than anything.”
“Perhaps you are correct, Cal Than.”
Cal does not respond for a moment. “I see light ahead. I hope you’re ready for some cold.”
The pair emerge from the cave, the sun shines bright onto them both, causing them to squint and cover their eyes. Snow crashes down on them as they emerge onto a mountain face, white and grey as far as the eye could see.
“Come on… any second now…” Cal’s communicate beeps. “Haha! That’s our ride.” he activates his communicator. “Than to Zheng He. Two to beam up.”
A flash of golden light encompasses the Vulcan and Cal Than as they are beamed aboard the Starship U.S.S. Zheng He. They are shivering as they arrive in the transporter room. Waiting for them is a team of Starfleet medical officers with blankets.
Than ignores the medical team and heads towards the exit of the transporter room. He turns back before leaving the room. “Aennik, thank you.”
The Vulcan nods and Cal leaves the room. He power walks through the halls of the U.S.S. Zheng He. He enters a turbolift only meters from the transporter room.
“Bridge.” The turbolift begins to move. It is fast, and in under a minute the doors open onto the bridge. The lights are red, with officers frantically working at their stations. Commodore Madden turns and acknowledges Cal’s presence on the bridge.
“Nice of you to join us, Number One.”
“Good to be home. What’s the situation.”
“Three Arcadian ships are approaching, weapons hot.”
“So much for a light entrance.”
“You can’t say I didn’t try.”
Than chuckles and the tactical officer, whos station is behind that of the Captain’s chair, speaks up. “They are firing weapons.”
Part 7
The U.S.S. Zheng He faces three Arcadian ships.
The tactical officer, who’s station is behind that of the Captain’s chair, speaks. “They are firing weapons.”
“Full power to the shields.” Than orders.
A small and minor rock is felt throughout the ship.
“Report.” says Madden.
The tactical officer responds. “Shields holding… no damage.”
“Hail them.” responds Madden.
“Channel open.”
“This is Commodore Charles Madden of the Coalition Starship Zheng He. Break off your attack.”
Another jolt is felt, this time slightly more pronounced.
“Shields down to 96%”
Madden crosses his arms and sits in his chair. “Target their weapon systems. Fire when ready."
The Zheng He fires its weapons. A burst of orange energy launches from the weapon turret on the hull of the Zheng He, hitting the leading Arcadian ship.
“Direct hit. The leading vessel has lost primary weapon systems… sir, they are hailing us.”
“It is about time.” responds Madden. “Onscreen.”
The Arcadian Captain, a Klingon, appears on the viewscreen.
“Starfleet vessel. You will withdraw immediately from Arcadian space. Your trespass is a violation. You are not wanted here. The treacherous Federation, at work once again. You claim peace but make war. You stand by while billions starve. You return here, after twenty years, only to disturb the peace. You are not wanted here.”
“Captain, there has been a misunderstanding. We arrived to retrieve my First Officer, who had become stranded on your planet by accident. We mean no harm to you or your people.”
“False words, Starfleet petaQ! Withdraw immediately.”
“If that is what you wish, however, I hoped that we could have a more productive dialogue with your people.”
“No dialogue. Starfleet will withdraw. No negotiation.”
“I understand. I apologise for this misunderstanding, Captain.”
The Klingon groans and closes the channel. Madden, looking nervously towards Cal Than, re-directs his attention towards the helm.
“Ensign, get us out here. Slipstream speed.”
The Zheng He breaks orbit, entering slipstream moments after. The Arcadian ships return to the planet. Madden stands, adjusting his torso.
“Number One, I suggest you get yourself into a more appropriate uniform. I think it's time our guests meet."
“Aye, sir. I will have Okeg brought to the conference room immediately.”
Madden nods and returns to his seat. Cal leaves the bridge, heading for his quarters to change into uniform.
Less than a half hour later, Commodore Madden is sitting at the head of a conference table. In the seats are a few key officers of the Zheng He with Commander Cal Than standing to the right of Madden.
Madden taps his communicator. “Bring him in.”
Two Starfleet security agents walk through the door, behind them is the Vulcan man. He has been restored to decency with proper clothes. He hands are held together. He nods at Cal, and then again at Commodore Madden. He sits in one of the conference room seats. The stars, that fly past, are visible from the skylight in the ceiling.
“Welcome aboard Starfleet One, President Okeg.” Madden says.
“Commodore, thank you for your hospitality.” says the Vulcan, President Okeg.
“Where is the second?” Madden directs the question towards security officer.
“He is on his way… he’s not as fast as President Okeg…”
The conference room doors swoosh open again, this time in walks a far more frail man, sporting a bache-white suit. Madden stands as he enters, and the man waves for him to resume his seat.
“President Tarkin, may I introduce to you President Anneik Okeg.” Madden says, while resuming his seat.
“Yes, Commodore, I know President Okeg very well. It has been a very long time, Mr. President.” Tarkin leans in to shake Okeg’s hand.
Okeg shakes Tarkin’s hand with an extremely confused look on his face. His face settles with a frown of misunderstanding. “President Grand Tarkin is dead.”
Tarkin laughs. “Now there’s a sentence I don’t hear everyday.” His sarcasm is apparent in his tone.
Madden interrupts, looking towards the Vulcan Okeg. “Mr. President, it is a very long story and not one we can get into quite now.”
“You should try living through it.” Tarkin continues with a small smile crept on his face.
“I appreciate both of your times.” Madden gestures towards Cal. "Commander.”
Cal steps forward. “Thank you, Commodore. President Tarkin, President Okeg, you are two-thirds of the last remaining living Presidents of the United Federation of Planets. The Federation Council has given instruction to bring the three of you together to deal with a potential threat to the integrity of the Federation.”
Tarkin coughs. “Two-thirds? Where… and who is the last third?”
“President Robbert Teck. According to our intelligence, he remains on Earth.”
“What about Jaresh Inyo?” Okeg asks.
Madden sits forward. “It is our understanding that President Inyo died several years ago. His daughter rules much of the planet now.”
Cal resumes speaking. “It is our hope that she will be able to make contact with President Teck on our behalf. It has been difficult to get information to-and-from Terra in recent years.”
Tarkin stands. “It is settled then.”
“Not quite, Mr. President.” Cal hesitates.
“Hmm?”
“We have made contact with a Federation starship.”
“Forgive me, my boy, but is this not a Federation starship?”
“Yes, sorry, no, I meant we have made contact with a starship from the former United Federation of Planets. The U.S.S. Enterprise… B.”
“The Enterprise-B?” Tarkin scratches his head. “I remember that ship.”
“We thought you might.” says Madden.
“I read the report myself, the Enterprise-B was lost with all hands… seven-hundred years ago… it was during my first term.”
“This is the source of our confusion as well, Mr. President.” responds Cal.
“Time travel?”
“We’re unsure. If it is, that time capsule could become a serious threat to the timeline. The Federation Council has ordered us to make contact with the Enterprise and assess the threat before contacting Earth.”
“and where is this... time capsule?” inquires Tarkin.
Madden smiles. “Earth.” He stands, and presses his communicator. “Helm, lay in a course for the Sol System. Maximum slipstream.”
TO BE CONTINUED...
Episode 3: "In Mundo Videmus"
Part 1
Meanwhile at the NCR REPCONN Cosmondrome, Aquinas...
The REPCONN Cosmondrome in Aquinas coldly waits out the night, within the halls of Laboratory A-13, a researcher sits on an uncomfortable metal chair, arms propped on the console before him. Screens before him show numbers, all of which are firmly set at zero. No activity, nothing. The man feels tired of watching this object, before him behind thick glass. His job: “Monitor the probe for activity and alert Doctor Aqui’we if anything occurs”. Nothing had “occurred” for over a week. Sighing, he almost reaches for his phone, before eyeing the camera nestled firmly in the upper left corner of the room. This is only a gut reaction – the phone he has is a work phone and is only connected to the local facility’s intranet. He checks the digital clock. Two hours and thirty-three minutes to go until he can get wasted at the lounge. He has been dying to see that cute bartender again, a junior researcher named Cassandra who had flirted with him every time he came in. It could have just been for the tips, if it hadn’t also extended outside of work – they’d struck up a few conversations in the halls of the facility.
He seems so wrapped up in his thoughts, so much so that he misses the first few words. Then, he thinks someone had come in through the door and began talking to him. Swiveling around, he quickly ascertains that the voice emanated through the speakers situated on the sides of the metal room, and that the words coming through these speakers are nothing any late-night guard or senior researcher would pop in to say. He quickly turns to stare at the probe…
“-ARRIVED AT THE COORDINATES YOU HAVE PROVIDED. RESPOND. STARFLEET VESSEL. WE HAVE ARRIVED AT THE COORDINATES YOU HAVE PROVIDED. RESPOND.”
The man grabs his phone and dials Doctor Aqui’we…
Meanwhile at "The Division", a classified BlackCon location...
Midas sits dormant inside his server. Background processes continue normally. Passive data analysis, which he had started six months ago, was now 46.2152% complete. The communications array is quiet. There is a connection active at NX2110, but it is not transmitting anything, as he had anticipated. He hadn’t bothered to check the local news feed for some time; all CPU power was devoted to data crunching, and the sooner it is completed, the better.
Suddenly, a signal with a very old format jars its way through the array. Midas surges awake with a start, low power notices still flashing in the corners of his mind. His first protocol is to attempt to intercept the message – but it is already being broadcast far and wide. No use trying that. He scrolls down the checklist. The next protocol is to read out the message and archive it.
He presses play.
“… HAVE ARRIVED AT THE COORDINATES YOU HAVE PROVIDED. RESPOND. STARFLEET VESSEL. WE HAVE ARRIVED AT THE COORDINATES YOU HAVE PROVIDED. RESPOND…”
“Curious.”
He looks puzzled at the encoding of the broadcast. It is an FM2-type transmission on an our-of-use channel that hasn’t seen any activity over the course of his lifetime. He searches for records of the channel name. Embedded in his framework, one of the storage databases chimes in affirmative. He opens it up.
It reads. “united-federation-of-planets-emergency-broadcast-channel | limited-wavelength-β²-00016460 | limited-frequency-modulation-mode-002”
Other closely related channels begin broadcasting the same message…
“united-federation-of-planets-starfleet-general-broadcast-channel | limited-wavelength-β²-00016462 | limited-frequency-modulation-mode-002
united-federation-of-planets-starfleet-secure-broadcast-channel-1 | limited-wavelength-β²-00016463 | limited-frequency-modulation-mode-002
united-federation-of-planets-starfleet-secure-broadcast-channel-2 | limited-wavelength-β²-00016464 | limited-frequency-modulation-mode-002
united-federation-of-planets-encrypted-channel-α | limited-wavelength-β²-00016468 | limited-frequency-modulation-mode-002”
He writes a small archive file, saving a section of the repeating waveforms of what he assumes must be the voice of a human male Starfleet officer, something between the ages of 36 and 52 Terran years.
After listening to the message on repeat for the 26th time, Midas stops the playback, and recedes slowly into dormancy once more. All CPU power is rerouted again to data crunching. Passive data analysis is now 46.2154% complete.
Meanwhile, at the Oscdean listening post, Phobos, Mars...
The doors of the central communications on Trifari Phobos slide open as two Oscdean units walk in. In the centre, the blue holographic glow of the coremind comes to life.
“Requested Entity detected. Welcome back to Trifari station, Endco Hornastu Lin Yuaisasa and Cossus August Forsberg.”
They stop at the bridge before the centrepiece and stand at the attention to Iordous as he turns towards them.
“I apologize for your sudden departure in your Ion mauver exercise, gentlemen.” says the coremind. “Although, it was determined that you were the best candidate to deal with an issue that you’ve experienced earlier this year.”
Yuaisasa tilts his head. “What sort of issue are we dealing with on Trifari?”
Lordous displays a panel in front of him, consisting of data graphs, signals, and some pictures. A familiar face of a terran and a disc-shaped ship catches the attention of Yauisasa’s eyes.
“During our communications with the Uterna cell colonies, CC detected an irregular interference before the signal was needled out of the system. Upon scanning the system with marking probes, we’ve received a hailing call from a Terran Federation-era Starship, most of the signal marks matches the U.S.S. Enterprise ship we’ve archived from earlier this year.”
Yuaisasa slowly nods. “The ship supposedly lost in time… did CC pinpoint where the signal might originate from in the system?” he asks.
“We’re confident it’s in the regions beyond the Trojan asteroids and near Ouranous and as far as Poseidon. We are sending probes there to scan again to get a lock and send a signal back. There is still much we do not know about, in the meantime, both of you will lead this operation.”
The Endco and the Cossus both nod and give a salute. “Oscdea Ortus.”
“Oscdea Ortus.” replies Iordous.
Meanwhile at Mycroft Morsehead's secret base, Neu Wiltshire...
Laycock pokes her head out from underneath the frame of the gasoline-powered automobile. Her arms and legs are streaked with rust and oil. A few meters away sits one of the smartest men in the world, Dr. Robbert Teck, who makes himself comfortable on a small stool at the garage’s workbench, where he fidgets with the makeshift components of a radio receiver like a child playing with new toys.
“Hey Teck, toss me the wrench.”
The only response she receives is the distant humming of the ChisTek computers, echoing through the doorway. The blue figure remains hunched over the workbench, his focus unbroken. From a distance, he looks asleep, or dead.
“… Teck?”
Suddenly, a garbled voice begins shouting out.
“-E, -AVE ARR- -ED A- THE CO- -RDINA- YOU HAVE PROVIDED. RESPOND. STARFLEET VESSEL. WE HAVE ARRIVED AT THE COORDINATES YOU HAVE PROVIDED. RESPOND.”
Teck sits up. The voice decreases suddenly in volume as Teck twists a little knob. He turns, fixing his usual cold glace, as he carefully tosses the wrench towards the floor next to her. It lands with a metallic ring.
“Thanks” she says, picking it up. “What was all that noise?”
“I got this ancient radio working. It might be interesting to note that someone is broadcasting on the old Federation channels again.”
Meanwhile, near Uranus, Sol system...
A flash of light appears in front of the Enterprise...
Harriman stands, watching it on the viewscreen. “Captain, something is coming through…”
Part 2
“Shields up. Red alert.” Harriman barks.
The lights on the bridge dim to a darker, more red ambiance. Monitors read “Alert Condition: Red”, officers frantically moving from post to post, finding their battle station.
“Lieutenant, load torpedo bays. Ready phasers.” First Officer Jacobs says, directed towards the tactical officer.
The tactical officer nods. “Torpedo bays loaded, Sir.”
The red light intensifies, sending a blinding light towards the Enterprise. The light is so bright it causes the officers on the bridge to squint, some averting their eyes. The hull of a ship can be seen coming through.
The tactical officer looks up. “It’s definitely a Starfleet ship…”
The ship continues through the light, its hull becomes clearer and clearer.
“The ship is designated U.S.S. Zheng He. Registry, NCC-1872-C.”
The ship emerges completely from the blinding light, it sits silently before the Enterprise.
“They are hailing us, Captain.” The tactical officer says with a hint of anxiety in his voice.
“On screen.” Harriman orders.
The screen activates, Commodore Madden appears on screen.
“State your name, registry and time of origin.” Madden’s opening line is uncharacteristically cold.
“To whom am I speaking?” Harriman asks, a frown quickly developing on his face.
“State your name, registry and time of origin.” Madden repeats.
Harriman looks towards his first officer, and raises his eyebrows. “Enterprise. NCC-1701-B. Stardate 22571.8."
“Thank you, Enterprise. Prepare to be boarded.”
“Wha-“ Before Harriman is able to ask, the transmission is ended. He quickly turns towards his first office again.
“Sir, they have locked us in some form of tractor beam.”
“Can we get free?” Harriman returns to the Captain’s chair and sits.
“I don’t know how sir… our shields are down.”
“We are detecting several incoming transporter signals. Jacobs stands. We are being boarded.” The first officer says.
Several beams of light appear on the bridge, quickly materializing to be Commodore Madden and other Starfleet officers.
“Captain Harriman. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Identify yourselves. Now.” demands Harriman.
“Ah, yes. I apologise for the intrusion. We cannot stay here long.”
“I said identify yourselves now and explain why you have lowered our defences.”
“I am Commodore Charles Madden of the Coalition Starship U.S.S. Zheng He. This is my first officer, Commander Cal Than and my Security Officer, Commander Weyoun. Please be assured, Captain, your defences are not down. The Zheng He’s shields are encompassing your vessel.”
“I hope you can appreciate why that is not reassuring to me.”
“Captain, I require your cooperation. We have a lot of questions for you but before we do that we have to leave this system.”
“We can’t leave this system. The debris field…”
“You’re in the 31st century, Captain. We have the means but we have to go now. Your transmission was picked up by more than just us.”
“I want an explanation.”
“And you will get one – as soon as we return to Starfleet headquarters.”
Harriman nods.
Madden nods towards Cal, who has been quietly standing beside Commodore Madden. Cal activates his communicator. “Than to Zheng He. Lay in a course for Starfleet headquarters, maximum slipstream.” His attention returns to Harriman. “Brace yourselves.”
A small rumble shakes the Enterprise as the red light returns, suddenly a larger jolt hits the Enterprise. The ship enters slipstream, being towed by the Zheng He.
“Is there a place you would like to talk?” Madden says to Harriman, smiling.
Episodes Summaries
"Message in a Bottle"
The crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise-B continue through the 31st century, five months after their interactions with the major factions (New Corporate Republic and Oscdean State) of the Doggerland. As their hope dwindles, the Enterprise encounters a probe of Starfleet origins. The investigation that ensues reveals the true nature of the Federation in the 31st century and a meeting to come.
"People of Arcadia"
A mysterious man crash lands on a seemingly remote planet. The man, undercover Starfleet commander Cal Than. The planet, a former Federation planet crippled in "the burn". Than must infiltrate the isolationist planet to find one of the most important men in the galaxy, former Federation President Anneik Okeg. Okeg was trapped on Arcadia during "the burn" and, on the orders of the new Coalition of Federation Planets, Than must retrieve him for an important mission that could pose a threat to the security of the galaxy.
Former Federation President Grand Tarkin is reintroduced.