Star Trek: Ascension - Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A Klingon cruiser sails through the fantastic energy patterns of the wormhole passage between the Alpha and Gamma quadrants. With a burst of light, it penetrates the threshold of the Denorius Belt and settles into the familiarity of normal space. In the distance ahead the tiny, spider like structure of Deep Space Nine rotates like a battle-hardened sentinel guarding the Bajoran planetary system. The Klingon cruiser adjusts its heading and changes its vector to intercept the station. Within minutes it is docking with one of the high spires.

*

“Station log; star date eleven two five zero four point seven,” Kira begins as she stands in her office gazing at the Klingon cruiser on the monitor. The rubbing of her thumbs with hands clasped behind her is the only expression in her countenance of the anxiety she can’t seem to shake. “The IKS Gorr has finally arrived at the station carrying Ambassador Worf. Clearing the station and Bajoran space of traffic was relatively simple compared to coordinating the transfer under the communications black out. But so far everything has gone according to plan. The ambassador will continue the mission as command of the Defiant. At least I can find comfort in that.”

*

In the shadows of one of DS9s many pseudo-gothic Cardassian passages footsteps emerge to interrupt the silence. The stride of a pair of black boots is joined by a second. As they pass through the islands of light, black Federation uniforms crested with gray shoulders become discernable. As the two officers make their way through corridor to the docking ring the blue and red collars introduce the resolute faces of Doctor Bashir and Ambassador Worf.

“I'm looking forward to getting a chance to spend time with Captain Picard before his retirement,” Bashir chimes cheerfully.

“This is not a social visit,” Worf counters curtly.

“I know that,” the doctor deflects, trying to hold onto his optimism. “I only mean that this is going to be a unique opportunity, one that I don't intend on wasting.”

“Due to the nature of our mission, I would not get my hopes up if I were you, doctor,” Worf returns, knitting his thick brows.

Bashir looks at him incredulously. “So, you're not at all looking forward to being back on the Enterprise, ambassador?”

Worf keeps his gaze fixed as he replies, “I am looking forward to completing our mission.”

“Indeed,” the doctor retorts.

At the end of the corridor Commander Kira waits at the threshold of an airlock with Bajoran security guards flanking her on either side. She trains her eyes on Worf and Bashir as they emerge from the dark depths of the station.

“Is there a problem?” she checks knowingly, recognizing the familiar trace of irritation on both their faces.

Worf's stern eyes glance over her, “No.”

Bashir rolls his eyes and Kira smiles, amused by how little their relationship has changed. She does her best to put on a professional persona, however, as she addresses the mission. “The location of your rendezvous with the Enterprise has been changed. The coordinates have been encrypted in the Defiant's navigation system through a secured transmission.”

“Changed again?” Bashir deflates.

Kira throws him her patented annoyed expression with raised eyebrows and her tone becomes sharper.

“Starfleet is using as many tactics as it can to secure your route and cargo.”

Worf remains stolid as Bashir grapples for the last word. “As long as we're sure the changes are coming from Starfleet.”

Every detail of the logistical nightmare surrounding this mission avalanches into Kira’s consciousness but, thanks to years of practice, she is quick to replace the burning glare with a patient smile. She glances at Worf, who shifts impatiently, and then looks back to the doctor. “We're doing our best.”

Turning to handle the control panel, she opens the airlock and steps aside as the large door rolls back like a giant gear.

“Good luck,” she finishes as she ushers them into the tube.

Doctor Bashir and Worf acknowledge with a nod and then step through the airlock and into the Defiant.

*

The Defiant disengages from the docking ring, overshadowed by the IKS Gorr on the spire, and spins about. She moves out slowly, getting some distance between she and the station. Coming to bear on her course she accelerates and then darts into WARP speed with a flash.

*

Light years away the Enterprise E glides through open space. On the backside of the saucer section superstructure the aft cargo bay door is open and illuminated. Inside, crewmen are using antigravity tractors and shuttles to move cargo to the main hangar bay, protected from the vacuum of space by the icy blue glow of the force field.

“Captain's log; star date eleven two five zero five point eight. The Enterprise is en route to the Zendalen Ardis asteroid belt to rendezvous with the Defiant. Preparations for the transfer and delivery of the device are on schedule. It is my understanding that Captain Riker will be receiving his orders this morning. I look forward to seeing him again…especially now.”

Picard closes the computer panel on the desk in the den of his quarters. He pauses reflectively for a moment before rising to make his way into the main living area where he has prepared a breakfast table for two. As if on cue the door chimes and his pensive mood melts into a warm smile.

“Come,” he replies, moving to the table.

The doors sweep open, and Dr. Crusher enters his quarters with a manner of routine.

“Good morning,” she greets, taking her seat, “the table looks lovely as always.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Picard answers with a smile as he pours a cup of tea before sitting.

“I was thinking of conducting a medical conference of sorts for my staff during our mission,” Crusher begins in a casually, placing a napkin on her lap.

Picard moves the teapot to the second cup and fills it before looking up at her. “I don't think Starfleet would look favorably on our receiving a host of medical personnel while on this particular mission.”

He sets the teapot on the table and Beverly takes her cup. “Nothing on that large a scale, Jean-Luc. I had something more intimate in mind.”

She takes a coy sip of tea, watching for Picard's reaction.

“Indeed?” he replies softly before taking a sip of his own cup with a bemused smile.

Beverly grins and set her teacup into the cradle of her hand. “You know what I mean. Doctor Polaski and Doctor Bashir come from very unique and exciting medical assignments. I think Doctor Ogowa and the medical staff would find their perspectives interesting and valuable.”

Picard takes a more official demeanor and looks at her directly. “You are aware that commuting between ships will be restricted. Will may be able to spare his chief medical officer, but I doubt Doctor Bashir would spare the time. He has been doing the initial study of the device and may not want to stop now considering this may be his last opportunity in doing so.”

Crusher gestures to speak but Picard stays her insistence by quickly adding an amendment, “But I will see what I can do.”

Satisfied, she takes a piece of the croissant on her plate and butters it before continuing. “Speaking of deliveries, has Geordi given you any hints to the shipment he received week before last?”

“None. Apparently, he has coerced the entire crew into keeping it a secret until my retirement ceremony.”

“Party,” Crusher interrupts. “Ceremony makes it sound like you’re being canonized.”

Picard tosses her a dry expression. “At any rate, it seems my first officer is letting his authority go to his head.”

Beverly grins and eats the morsel using the moment to examine his face. “Any thoughts on how you will spend your retirement?”

Picard sets his teacup on the table and looks to Beverly with an expression that recalls his pensive air. “A few.”

*

The Enterprise corridors are teeming with members of the first watch making their way to rotation and those from the third watch lucky enough to be relieved early making their way to quarters. Among them are Lt. Commander Lavelle and Lt. Torak who indulge in a round-about route to the bridge in order to eaves drop at the door of science lab thirteen.

“You should be doing this,” Lavelle says, squinting with his ear pressed to the door.

“Such behavior is incompatible with the tenets of our commission,” the young Vulcan answers dryly, checking the corridor for adverse attention by any passers-by. However, most of the crew is familiar enough with the lieutenant commander’s impetuous nature to take seeing his head against a door as an unremarkable event.

“They’re still in there,” he sighs before straightening.

“Obviously.”

Lavelle notes the sarcasm and then looks at the door reluctantly. “We should get to our posts.”

“Obviously,” Torak repeats as they walk away.

“Stop that,” Lavelle chides as they disappear around a corner leaving science lab thirteen to its occupants.

Behind the doors, the lab is a mess of open-faced crates, work benches strewn with tools, and station consoles crowded with PADDs, tricorders, and schematics. All of which surround the diagnostic scaffolding in the center of the room where Geordi La Forge and Lt. Commander Gomez stand beside a perfect duplicate of the late Commander Data. The android is unconscious and supported by the scaffold while Geordi stands over his open skull plate with a pen-like tool and Gomez monitors the results on the tricorder in her hand. Beside them B4 stands in front of the platform gazing at the android curiously.

“Data?”

“No, B4, this isn't Data,” La Forge corrects as he works.

“Why is he sleeping?” B4 continues.

“He's not someone we want to wake up just yet,” Sonya answers without breaking her concentration.

“Why?” B4 persists.

“Okay, I think I've got it.” La Forge exclaims optimistically, looking up from behind the android's head to Gomez, who pans the tricorder slowly over the android's body. “What are the readings?”

“All autonomous systems are online, cognitive systems are nominal, memory systems are at full capacity,” she reports, her voice echoing his hopefulness.

“Good, it looks like the memory purge worked.”

“It only took four tries,” Sonya quips. The fact that the four tries took all night is apparent on both of their faces. But both share what some would call dedication and others obsession, but in either case the impending retirement of their captain justifies their efforts.

“I have a feeling that transferring the memory engrams is going to be a lot harder. Who knows how the Type L discriminator is going to process the information,” Geordi sighs, moving to check the data on Sonya's tricorder.

“What is wrong with him?” B4 asks with a childlike tenacity.

Geordi looks at him, trying to be as patient as he can be in his curt reply. “That's a long story, B4. I'll try to explain everything when I've got time, but right now we've got a lot work to do.”

B4 doesn't react but simply continues to watch the two with the same curious expression.