Star Trek: Ascension - Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Captain Alden stands in the center of what could be mistaken for the bridge of the Enterprise D but for the steal blue walls and consoles, gray carpet, and upgraded controls. The U.S.S. Patrokles is the Venture class variant of the Galaxy class flagship, however, its additional bulk of offensive weaponry is still no match for that which stalks the ship in the depths of space. The bridge is subdued under emergency lighting rhythmically overlaid with the flashing red of the alert systems. Alden stares into the viewscreen, his black shouldered, red-breasted uniform is clingy with perspiration. His command crew stand at their stations transfixed on the view screen, layered in sweat and dread. Although nothing in the projection of the outer space around them provides any insight to their anxiety they are well acquainted with the unseen foe.

“I'm sorry,” Captain Alden stammers, “there is nothing I can do.”

Energies coalesce in the vacuum of space ahead and churn into a torrent spewing fiery streams of violence towards the Patrokles. The starship’s desperate attempt to dodge the attack is fruitless as the power crashes against the dorsal superstructure that connects the saucer section and secondary hull, blasting it to pieces. Internal decks are splayed open as debris and crew are sucked into the cosmos. With the structural integrity weakened, the saucer begins to bow as the momentum from the blast sets the two hulls adrift in opposing directions.

A second blast throws the bridge crew to the floor as exploding panels spew shrapnel across the deck amid the sounds of the red alert sirens and the ship splitting. As the officers struggle to regain their equilibrium and their posts another jolt keeps them to the floor. The bridge erupts with electrical fires instigating the failure of the emergency lights and control stations, but not before Alden's tactical officer is able to decipher the damage readouts.

“Tactical automates have jettisoned the WARP core! Hull breaches decks thirteen through twenty!” he shouts with horror.

Tapping the auxiliary power, the first officer begins shouting into the com system, “All hands abandon ship! All hands abandon ship!”

Captain Alden pushes past his frantic bridge crew and scrambles for the turbolift as the wall panels begin to lower through the smoky haze for access to the escape pods only to find the turbolift is unresponsive.

“Captain!” his first officer cries out, “We must abandon ship!”

Dodging an escape pod boarding ramp Alden ignores the commander and flies to the science station where he crouches and rips the cover off a Jeffries tube access. As he scurries inside his legs are caught in the grip of unseen bridge officers bent on saving him from apparent suicide. With a strength born of desperation and urgency he kicks himself free and disappears into the crawl way. No one follows but he can hear the chaos of the bridge through the open cover until the sounds are engulfed by the bedlam of the lower decks.

The Jeffries tube panel at the deck seven connector bursts from the wall as Alden leaps into the smog filled corridor. Peering through eyes weeping from the sting of smoke he searches corridor running from door to door searching for the holodeck. Grappling against time and panic, he finds the threshold praying that the emergency power is still online as he accesses the holodeck control panel. Fighting through the fading controls he punches in his program request as time seems to slow to an agonizing pace. He stares through an eternity at the blinking panel. The maelstrom of panicked voices diminishes with the evacuation of the crew. The ship is again rocked by a deafening roar and he can hear the loud whine of the hull giving way.

“Pro-pro-pro-gram complete. You ma-ma-ma-may enter when-en ready,” the computer stammers.

The doors shudder opens with a whine and Alden rushes into the holodeck that is completely empty except for a sofa in the center of the chamber. He darts to the couch and sits, lifting his hand to his temple and moving his fingers as if upon a keypad and he begins to slowly fade away with the world around him.

He completes the command entry on the helmet keypad and pulls it off with genuine desperation. His current uniform is stained with sweat and collar decorated with two gold pips. He sets the helmet on the glass table in front of him, upon which sits a small metallic box. Cables run from the box's casing to the helmet. Alden's breathing is labored, as if he had actually run the escape route in the virtual reality matrix, causing him to hyperventilate. He cups his hands over his mouth and slowly begins to regain his composure. Looking down he runs his hand across the wet chest of his uniform and then makes his way to the shower.

*

High above the face of Romulus, marbled white over green and blue, a Federation starship glides in a high orbit with a warbird at her side. Neither vessel is on alert and their comfortable proximity is fodder for history, for the Titan is in orbit of the Romulan home world by invitation.

On the planet below, Captain Riker and his wife stroll the waterfront of the Sh’Nar Sea with Senator Tevus at their side and a host of security personnel surrounding them. The senate building rises behind them burnished to a deep gold by the light of the late afternoon sun that has turned the water to glittering splendor.

“Who could have predicted that I would live to see such days? Mass murder on the floor of the senate, an equal rights movement for the Remans despite the tyranny of Shinzon, the persistence of the re-unification underground, and talks of treaties with the Federation.”

The elderly Romulan issues a pensive sigh. He had spent most of his long years as an obscure and relatively powerless regional representative before the coup of the usurper. His hair had lost its black sheen years ago along with any aspirations he ever held for greater influence, let alone a seat in the senate. But now, snow capped and wrinkled, he has been called to serve as one of dozens of replacement representatives in the new interim government. He casts his gaze from the shimmering waters to the Federation liaison and his wife. His gray hair frames a face creased and worn more from care than age, but his eyes are still sharp as the meet Captain Riker’s.

“Such times allow great men to rise and lead their people to a better future, senator,” the captain returns. “The histories of both our worlds bear it out.”

Senator Tevus replies with a weary smile but says nothing.

“Wasn’t it Tal’karus who said, ‘our difference make us whole’?” Deanna asks rhetorically.

“Even our greatest philosophers have been forgotten in this chaos,” Tevus says, his fingers tightening around his knuckles as his clasped hands.

“Perhaps,” she continues, “reminding them of her wisdom can create a common ground on which to proceed during negotiations.”

The senator’s face crinkles with the same weary smile offered a moment ago. As he looks at the two Terrans, they seem like idealistic children against his one hundred and seventy-three years. But he appreciates their efforts, even if all he can offer in return is a forced and practiced smile.

Pausing on the seaside promenade, he turns toward and gazes across the wide gardens to the boulevard and the city beyond. “The protestors seem less today.”

“I’m going to miss these walks,” Deanna says wistfully. “I wish everyone could see how beautiful Romulus is.”

Senator Tevus’ craggy smile is tainted with the realities of the times as he replies. “I’m afraid that wish will not be granted soon.”

“I don’t know,” Captain Riker counters optimistically. “The conference went much better on the first day than I expected. Once we get past the posturing, I think we’ll really begin to make some head way in overcoming the divisions within the government.”

Senator Tevus turns sharply to Riker. “We’re not divided, we’re fractured! The military, Tal Shiar, the aristocracy, and even revolutionaries. They are all battling to seize power.”

Deanna’s eyes grow clear and concerned as she looks from the senator to her husband.

The Romulan’s posture stiffens and he gestures them forward. “These are merely lightning rods for dissent and violence, dangers that have found us so ill equipped that we are prompted to turn to the Federation.”

“I ask you to believe me when I say that we will never violate your conditions or your trust, senator” Captain Riker states carefully.

Tevus looks at him with a rue smile. “I did not intend to impugn your motives, captain, or those of your government. I have come to know that you are a man of your word. But there is interference, not from your Federation but elsewhere. I know it! I’ve seen the insinuations in the dynamics that have fostered this present set of dangers and I know that we are blind to some malevolent hand at work!”

The change in the senator’s tone and demeanor is yet another sign that drives home the plight of the Romulans to Riker and Troi. However, before either are able to respond, the lead security agent steps forward and whispers into the senator’s ear with cold eyes locked on Captain Riker.

Senator Tevus nods and signals the agent to retreat and then turns again towards his guests. “I have just been informed that you are required aboard your vessel, captain. A centurion will escort you to your transport.”

“Thank you for all your hospitality, senator,” Deanna says, taking the old man’s hand.

“In this case, I can say without subterfuge that the pleasure has been entirely mine,” he replies with a wink.

“Sir, I will see you in the morning,” Captain Riker adds. “Drue lan true, senator.”

“Drue lan tru, captain.”

*

“Captain's log; star date eleven two five zero five point nine. Our stabilization efforts in the Romulan Empire are beginning to pay off. I’ve just received word that the senate has approved inviting representatives from the Federation Counsel to an amity conference here on Romulus. Unfortunately, the Titan has just received new orders and we will be unable to attend. I’m concerned that our dismissal is a result of Romulan political maneuvering and have to admit being disappointed. On the bright side, our orders will enable us to work with Captain Picard one last time before his retirement.”

Captain Riker looks with resignation to his ship's counselor and wife, who now sits in uniform on the couch on the opposite wall of the ready room from his desk.

She offers a soft smile and stands, gesturing towards the door, “Shall we?”

As the two ships move over the Romulan stratosphere, the Titan pulls away and heads into starry space. A moment later she disappears in a flash of light leaving the warbird that has acted as her guard to her home world.

*

White sunlight filters through the grimy plate glass windows of a dilapidated warehouse, past the rusting gray support poles, and onto barbells and wrestling pads. At the center of the warehouse a crowd of large, sweaty men surround a boxing ring. The gruff voice of the tough old trainer can be heard over their cheers and jibes barking orders amid the sounds of leather impacting flesh. In the ring, a burly thug stumbles back from the latest blow. His opponent, a determined woman with short golden locks, swings her leg through the air as her body turns to deliver the final blow; that of her foot connecting with his head with a heavy smack.

“What the hell is that!” the old trainer yells through the clenched yellow teeth securing the butt of his cigar. “You call that boxing!”

Dupree strides to her corner, removing her headgear, as the crowd disperses and her opponent is carried off the mat. “I was running out of time.”

The old man meets her at the edge of the ring, his scarred and weathered face contorted with anger and frustration. “For what? You only had two rounds!”

A communications chime permeates the scene followed by the voice of a woman, “All senior staff report to the briefing room.”

“You've got plenty of time,” the trainer grunts, “We'll get you another victim. You're golden, girly, golden I tell you!”

Commander Dupree climbs through the ropes and onto the floor, holding her hand up towards the trainer to silence him. “On my way.”

“On your way?” the trainer barks. “On your way where? Get back in that ring!”

“Computer, end program.”

The scenario melts away as the commander wipes her face with her towel, swings it over her shoulder, and walks to the exit. Before she reaches the door, she pauses and turns to the empty holodeck. “Computer, confirm Dupree workout eleven has been deactivated and saved.”

“Confirmed. Dupree workout eleven has been deactivated and stored in memory index eight five zero.”

*

Lieutenant Alden enters the briefing room in uniform to find Lt. Commander Barclay standing at the windows gazing dreamily into space.

It was a particular badge of honor for Reg when Riker asked him to join the crew of the Titan. His earning a position on the command crew was a distinction that many of the existing crew members have found difficult to comprehend, lending to the impression, albeit falsely, of preferential treatment. For few in the Titan’s crew has been able to look past Barclay’s jittery exterior to learn of his involvement in many of the history making adventures of the Enterprise.

“I guess we're both early,” Alden says to announce his presence as he takes his place at the table.

A slightly startled Barclay turns and follows suit, “I was just thinking about… you know.”

Lt. Alden looks away evasively.

An expression of concern stretches across Barclay’s face. “Have you had time to investigate the problem with the matrix?”

Alden flushes and can feel the sweat break his pours with the recollection of his experience on the U.S.S. Patrokles. “Oh, there is definitely a problem,” the engineer stammers, looking from Barclay to his hands as he fold them on the table.

Captain Riker enters the briefing room and stands behind his chair without interrupting as the lieutenant continues.

“The degradation is getting worse. I was thinking we should duplicate the matrix casing and transfer the remaining program to the new hardware,” Alden proffers.

“The box?” Riker surmises.

Barclay nods as the captain takes his seat at the head of the table and then returns his attention to the lieutenant. “We could lose a lot of the program if we do that. What if we try downloading the matrix to the ship's holodeck computer? That way we can use the main computer's diagnostics programs.”

Alden shirks nervously at the suggestion, “I'm not sure that's a good idea. It's kind of taken on a life of its own.”

The two pause as Commander Dupree enters and takes her seat next to the captain. A moment later she is followed by the tactical officer, Lt. McDowell, and the operations officer, Lt. Commander Rager. They both take their seats while Barclay and Alden deliberate. Counselor Troi enters soon after with a glance and slight smile to her husband.

Riker returns her smile with a nod then turns back to Barclay and Alden. “We've got one member left and two minutes to spare. You have until the doctor arrives, gentlemen.”

Commander Dupree throws a disinterested gaze at the two men and checks with a tired tone, “The box, right?”

Before they can respond Dr. Polaski enters the briefing room and takes her seat across from Barclay who is nodding at the commander. “I hope I didn't miss anything.”

“Just Commander Barclay's box,” the commander says from her seat next to the captain.

Polaski looks at Barclay with raised brows and raises her hands up in abandon, “I'm staying out of it this time.”

Captain Riker leans forward and clasps his hands on the conference table, looking at his staff seriously. “Starfleet has put our lead work in the stabilization effort in the Romulan Empire on hold.”

The command officers volley expression of surprise and curiosity between them. Lt. Rager is the first to speak. “Why? What’s happened?”

“This morning the Defiant left Deep Space Nine with a device retrieved from a derelict Jem'Hadar battleship discovered by the Klingons in the Gamma Quadrant. The Klingon Empire has agreed to allow the Daestrom Institute to examine it. The Defiant will deliver this device to the Enterprise who will in turn deliver it to the Daestrom Institute on Earth.”

“Where do we fit in?” Lt. Rager asks, not one to be shy.

“As you all know, because of our mission heading the task force dealing with the Romulan cold war, the Titan has gotten a lot of special upgrades. Starfleet wants those upgrades available to Captain Picard on this mission. We will rendezvous with the Enterprise and act as a flank guard.”

While the command crew exchange glances, Dr. Polaski's reaction is much more visceral. “What in god's name are they carrying?”

“From the preliminary examinations it appears to be a data storage device,” Commander Dupree states.

“Storage device?” Lt. McDowell shrugs, “Why the bother?”

“Because, lieutenant, the information it stores is alive,” Counselor Troi says in a voice that sends a chill through the doctor.

“What do you mean?” Dr. Polaski presses, a mix of abhorrence and incredulity splashed on her face.

Captain Riker stands and moves behind his chair, resting his hands on its back as he communicates the sensitivity of the information to his officers with a single look. “This device not only scans a life form but, somehow, it also reduces that life form to an energy pattern for storage.”

Troi’s attention is broken suddenly and she looks from her husband to Alden just before he speaks.

“Similar to our transporter buffer?” the engineer asks with particular interest.

“We don't know,” the captain replies. “That's for the Daestrom Institute to determine. At any rate, you can understand the implications, especially considering the tension in the quadrant.”

“The threat may be greater than the use of this device as a weapon,” Troi adds quickly.

“How so?” McDowell asks, beating Rager to the question.

“If we are correct in assuming that this device was used by the Dominion to catalogue life forms, retrieving that information may be possible and could be of great value to the Federation in maintaining the treaty with the Dominion.”

“I don’t understand,” Lt. Rager interjects as she looks from the counselor to the captain. “There haven’t been any hostilities since the armistice.”

“We haven’t even heard from them,” McDowell trails.

Captain Riker looks to his wife and then the officers, drawing a deep breath. “When I received our new orders, I was also informed of an accident in engineering on the Tolstoy that occurred two months ago. Thirteen crewmen were killed. One of them turned out to be a Changeling.”

The entire table bristles at the revelation, exchanging expressions of shock and dismay as the captain continues.

“The Federation was already concerned over the Dominion's declaration that they ‘are everywhere’. Now we have evidence of continued Dominion infiltration.”

Barclay’s face pales noticeably. “If the Dominion finds out we have this device…”

“They will do anything to retrieve it,” Commander Depree finishes.

Alden’s posture straightens and his hands move to hold the edge of the conference table.

Aware of the surge of emotions from the engineer, Troi’s attention is drawn to him for a second time.

“Do you think we could find a way, with this device, to make a pattern of energy into a living being?” he inquires with suppressed earnest.

“Doctor Bashir on DS Nine has begun the initial research on the device. From results of his study, it appears to have the technological ability, but I seriously doubt the Dominion was compassionate enough to have created a retrieval system,” Counselor Troi replies, hoping to draw out the lieutenant’s interest even more.

“It would seem inconsistent,” Dr. Polaski adds.

The senior staff falls silent as if collectively pondering the implications of this alien technology.

“Regardless of its threat as a weapon or as a source of espionage,” Riker concludes, drawing them out of the pensive air, “this machine must be delivered safely to the Daestrom Institute, and we will play a key role in seeing that it is. We'll stay at yellow alert through the course of the mission. Dismissed.”

The officers file out of the briefing room, those stationed on the bridge head for their posts while Barclay and Alden cross deck for the turbo lift. Doctor Polaski enters behind them, visibly distracted by news of the device.

“Deck ten,” she says absently.

“Main engineering,” Barclay orders, turning toward Alden. But he, too, appears preoccupied, leaving Barclay to fidget while trying to figure out how to break the silence he finds so uncomfortable. Setting his hands on his hips he turns to the doctor and opens his mouth.

Drawn out by his movement, she looks at him expectantly. When his mouth clamps shut abruptly that expectation turns to puzzlement, confounding his apprehension. The beginning of nervous sweat beads on his forehead and the doctor offers him a kind smile.

“Take a deep breath, Mr. Barclay,” she says, resting her hand on his arm to reassure him.

Of all the officers on the Titan, he still feels intimidated by Doctor Polaski. Her knack for seeing through people’s facades makes him feel exceptionally vulnerable, especially since of all the command officers, he has known her the least amount of time and hasn’t found his stride in their rapport.

“How… how ‘bout running a diagnostic?” he blurts before turning abruptly to face Alden.

Alden is taken aback and Dr. Polaski simply smiles to herself with compassionate understanding.

“Um,” Alden stalls, trying to collect his thoughts as Barclay showers him in a manic grin.

The turbolift stops and the doors open with the familiar hydraulic swish.

“I’ll leave you gentlemen to it,” the doctor quips as she exits.

Alden also moves toward the doors.

“Actually, now is really not good for me,” he answers, unable to mask the anxious tenor in his voice.

Barclay’s smile drops.

Alden spins on his heel and makes his way down the corridor with Barclay gaping as the turbolift doors close on him.

Rushing to his quarters, Alden goes directly to the sofa and the table where the helmet lays next to the metallic box. He sits quickly and reaches for the helmet, hesitating briefly as he conquers any lingering indecision. Holding the helmet with both hands he surveys the relay cables and then pulls the helmet over his head like a pilot going to battle.

His eyes open to blackness and pain, and his lungs to a frigid vacuum that threatens to crush them.

The self he left in his quarters claws the breast of his uniform. His chest constricts and his knees draw him into the fetal position. He falls over on the sofa.

‘Not real!’ screams through his fading consciousness. ‘Holo…’

However, he has no time to reprogram his pathology. That opportunity was wasted over years of counselors and therapies undermined by his secret insincerity regarding overcoming his holo-addiction. His need for another life in another world had always been fed by his want for it. In the complex workings of his psyche that world and that life had become a reality more substantial than those outside the hologrid. There were times he told himself that he would give anything to stay and now, as the reality created by his mind kills him, he realizes how true those intentions are -even if it means his life. But as kaleidoscope clouds of light and color fill his vision a final, livid revelation snaps his consciousness. Like Pandora’s Box, the fears and resistance are loosed from his mind, altering his perception to the point of altering his pathology.

“I… I… am… Q…” he squeezes out with the lingering remnants of his last breath.

Like fluid being evacuated from one’s lungs, the pressure and suffocation of the vacuum vanish in the birth of his new being. He unfolds from the ball his body had curled into, drifting in the weightlessness of the dead ship, and plants his feet on the floor. The ruined holodeck is still bathed in darkness but he can just make out the lines of the hologrid and the exit.

Alden steps across the deck and accesses the manual release for the exit doors and pulls the lever. Nothing happens. He takes a step back, examining the doorway, then remembers himself and wonders how a Q would circumvent the damaged controls. He concentrates on his objective and with a flick of his wrist the doors, with the surrounding wall, collapse open. It was a clumsy first try but he had no doubt of improving with practice. He pushes the floating fragments of door and wall out of his way and heads for the nearest turbolift.

When the lift reaches deck one, under the influence of the new Q, the doors open to reveal the complete devastation inflicted by that invisible foe. He steps onto the decimated bridge, warped and splintered with consoles and chairs wrenched and twisted in all directions. The entire dome is gone. Only a fence of ripped and jagged alloys that were once the walls provide any sense of enclosure. The entire scene is washed in the subtle and haunting light of the surrounding stars.

Awed by the sight, Alden stands nearly in a stupor at the threshold of the turbolift before remembering his purpose for returning to the wreckage of the Patrokles. Maneuvering through the debris littering the ramp leading to the main floor where his chair once sat, he takes his favorite stance between the ops and helm stations facing where the viewscreen once stood. He gazes into the eternal expanse and expands all his energies into its depths.

“Hear me! I've found a way!”