Neverending Infinity (ST, SW, SC crossover)

[l33telboi]

This is a fic I started a long long time ago, and since then I've been constantly revising it and re-writing it, because I can't seem to be happy with what I write. But perhaps it's finally time to start posting chapters? I can't guarantee I will finish it (God knows how hard it was the first time I tried to write it), but at least I'll give it a shot.


Prologue

Survival of the fittest… Darwinism… Evolution.

Among all of the various laws, rules and regulations that govern the universe, these are the most pertinent ones when it comes to the various life-forms inhabiting it. The concept behind the words is a simple one; the strong survive and the weak perish, and for the strong to continue surviving they need to adapt to changing circumstances, growing ever stronger and more intelligent.

No life can escape this concept. Everything from the most primitive biological organism to the most advanced intergalactic civilization has to adhere to it. Evolution becomes like a race, forcing various species to forever fight for their continued survival.

But what lies at the end of that road? Where does it all stop? Is there a goal in this seemingly eternal race?

Not many civilizations that manage to reach the required sophistication to answer those questions, but yes, there is an end. After a species manages to exert dominance over the world they were spawned on, the star system they inhabited, the galaxy around them, the universe around them, the various timelines and the alternate realities of multi-verse, they ultimately find themselves in a state where they know everything about everything. They can predict the motion of the smallest sub-atomic particles, all the way from the birth of the universe to the end. They can foresee the fates of entire mortal civilizations with unflawed perfection. Nothing is obscured from them anymore, and there’s no need for change anymore.

But then what?

After a species has made the multi-verse their own playground, what is there left for them to do? If you know everything, and can predict anything, then there’s nothing more to learn. A species loses its ability to change and evolve. Its very purpose for existing will vanish.

It’s ironic that at the highest peak attainable for a species, they find that self-termination is the only way to continue.

The most recent civilization to have reached this peak is known as the Q continuum. They know everything, they can do anything, but at the same time their reason for doing anything has ceased to exist. The dilemma has been wrestled with for ages, but for the last few thousand years the species hasn’t changed or evolved at all. They have simply existed.

But one member of the continuum has decided to take it upon himself to solve the ultimate riddle forced upon all life in the multiverse, and the experiment to do so will combine three separate universes and see three different galaxies united, bringing them all to the brink of annihilation before the results of the experiment will be determined as either a success or a failure.


Chapter 1: The Koprulu Sector

In one of the many realities of the multiverse, there is a region of space known as the Koprulu Sector. For the people inhabiting this sector, the name has become synonymous with war and strife, as that is what most of its history has been composed of. It’s a place where the darker nature of mankind is made manifest.

On the edges of this sector a star system called Sara exists, and within this system floats a rust colored planet called Mar Sara.

A dropship made its way across the surface, flying over the broken and barren landscape below. Its four rear-mounted thrusters glaring a bright yellow, propelling the vessel forward at what most people would consider unsafe velocities. The fact that the vessel was barely ten meters from the ground at any given moment didn’t make things appear safer. The risk of crashing into a mountain would seem high indeed to the unknowing spectator. But in the hands of the experienced pilot the feat was no more difficult then a quiet stroll down a familiar street.

The dropship was of a simple and utilitarian design, which spoke of practicality over looks. The rounded edges and overall sleekness to its appearance set it apart from the larger space-faring vessels usually seen in this part of space.

A peculiar looking symbol had been painted on the hull. It was the image of a flag, with a blue cross drawn across a bright red background. Stars had been etched on the blue cross. Some historians would recognize the symbol as the Confederate flag from a civil war fought hundreds of years earlier on a planet almost sixty-thousand lightyears from Mar Sara. But whether it was by chance or purpose that the current government affiliated with the flag was also known as the Confederacy, no one could tell anymore.

Blue highlights here and there on the vessel further told of its affiliation with the colonial militia, rather then the interplanetary forces the Confederacy had at its disposal.

Dawn had just broken, and the first rays from the scorching sun cresting the horizon were already visible, lighting up the red and brown landscape all around the speeding ship, bathing it in bright light and making the sand shimmer as if it were made of small grains of gold.

Nothing except a few plants and trees could be seen on the otherwise barren surface streaking past the ship, no water, no buildings and no people, this was what the Confederacy had termed a backwater planet and it was true to its namesake. Scarcely populated, with only a few mining colonies here and there. The natural resources being the only real reason anyone had taken any interest in the planet in the first place. The vast mineral deposits and the vespene gas, that the Confederate industry relied on so heavily, could be found in abundance on the planet.

Sergeant Chris Morham, a marine in the service of the Mar Saran colonial militia, sat in one of the many uncomfortable seats lined on either side of the dropship’s interior. He was strapped in tightly and very thankful for it every time the pilot had to maneuver sharply to avoid a mountain or ridge.

With him there in the drop bay were four other marines, familiar faces all of them, as they were part of Morham’s own little squad, and had been so for the last three years.

Where the hell was the magistrate going to send them this time, Morham wondered as he sat there, pondering the mission that was to come.

Planets like Mar Sara rarely saw any real military conflicts, so the tasks usually performed by the local militia were nothing more then keeping the peace, enforcing the rule of the Confederacy, suppressing the occasional riot or civilian uprising, as well as helping out during crisis situations. The only combat action they ever saw was when a pirate or terrorist organization decided to land on the planet for whatever reason. But those incidents were few and far between these days, what with the Confederacy slowly tightening its grip on even the most remote worlds it had under its control.

So what was so important as to merit a general alarm in the middle of the night at his base, rousing every single man and woman on base from their slumber? Morham could count the number of times general alarms had been sounded on one hand during his time at base. Something important was going on.

The problem wasn’t made any better by the fact that the higher ups were all being very secretive and enigmatic. But being the good soldier Morham was, he obeyed whatever orders he was given without question.

That didn’t change the fact that he had questions tough. Questions like why his squad was the only one that had been rushed off to a dropship while the rest of the base was simply made combat-ready with no immediate orders.

Morham checked the cord linking his suit to the power bus in the wall next to him, realizing it wouldn’t be long now before his suit would be juiced-up and ready to go. He might’ve been wearing the older CMC-300 model combat suit, which didn’t have all the fancy gimmicks and features the newer CMC-400 models had, but it served its purpose nonetheless, providing the wearer with armor good enough to deflect most small-arms fire, a slew of combat awareness enhancing features, as well as increased strength in mechanized form.

As the trip grew longer, the sergeant’s thoughts shifted to something he had been thinking about on and off for a few months now. He had been wondering what life would be like outside the military, what it would be like spending his days as a civilian. He had served as a marine in the Confederacy almost all his adult life and the reasons for joining up he considered naïve by now. At first he had been stationed on his home planet of Tarsonis, but later, after the guild wars broke out, he had served with Omega Squadron, being constantly shifted around from planet to planet, where he had spent four very long years trying just to survive.

The sergeant looked over at his armored left shoulder. He could still see traces of the Omega insignia he had worn so proudly back then, despite doing his best to erase it after being re-assigned to the Mar Saran colonial militia.

During his time with the Death’s Head Legion, as Omega squadron was more commonly known as, he had voiced his opinions and dislikes of the Confederacy and their policies once too often. His outspoken ways had climaxed with him striking a superior officer, and so he had finally been demoted and shipped away, just as the war had ended. And that was why he was now a mere sergeant stationed on Mar Sara, even after countless years of service. He still counted himself lucky though, as most officers wouldn’t think twice about executing someone doing what he had done.

The position on Mar Sara had originally been intended as punishment, but Morham had grown to like the peaceful little planet and the quiet atmosphere it harbored. It was a welcome change from all those muddy trenches he had spent most of his time in during the guild wars, with the sounds of hypersonic projectiles and explosions ringing constantly in his ears.

But he had to ask himself, why would he even want to leave the service? All he knew was war and how to be a soldier, and a damn good soldier he was too. Was it simple curiosity about what lay on the other side of the fence, or was there something more to it?

No, he had to admit he was getting tired of the same routines day in and day out, serving a master he no longer had any faith in. Life had to have something more besides drilling and killing to it, right? And the thought of someday having to re-live those four years of hell he experienced during the guild wars wasn’t all that comforting. He wasn't sure he could go through all that one more time and survive, at least not with his sanity intact.

Morham was shaken from his thoughts rather abruptly as an armored hand slapped him on the shoulder with a loud metallic clank.

"'Ere, have a drink, you look like you could use one." The marine sitting next to Morham said, extending a small silvery flask his way.

Morham looked over at the man and his toothy grin. His voice was raspy and his breath reeked of the stuff inside the flask. Anderson was his name, a private in service of the Mar Saran colonial militia, and one of the closest and most trusted friends Morham had, despite his love for the bottle.

The higher ups at Morham’s base hardly agreed with his high opinions of private Anderson though. Being drunk during combat operations wasn’t a quality they liked in their soldiers. But they also had to admit that the private was good at his job. And out here on the very edge of civilized space you couldn’t be too choosy; you had to make due with what you had, even if that was a slightly drunk marine with an itchy trigger finger.

"Nah, thanks for the offer but I'd rather be sober during this one. I've had a bad feeling about this mission ever since the general alarm was first sounded." Morham replied.

"Me too,” Anderson said. “At first I thought the feeling was just a hangover, but it dang well just won’t go away," he explained, taking a big gulp from the flask. “Sure you don’t want a swig? It helps.”

Morham declined.

"Suit yerself then, me on the other hand, I need a little alcohol in me to get the old blood pumping." He said, finishing with a laugh and another gulp from the flask. “Besides, I’d probably go insane if I didn’t have something calming my nerves during the fightin’.”

Morham didn’t doubt that, but if the man kept going like this he would probably pass out long before they even made the drop. Then again, that might not be such a bad thing.

Chris took another look at the faces around him, wondering why the lieutenant was still cooped up in the cockpit with the pilot. Usually he would spend at least some time with the rest of them just so he could insure himself they were fit and prepared for the mission. But not this time. He was probably just as much in the dark about the mission as the rest of them, and currently awaiting more information from the Confederate commanders, Morham guessed.

The thought of the lieutenant being in the dark left Morham a bit uneasy. It was a rather alien concept to him.

The sergeant hefted up the C-14 gauss rifle from his side for one last inspection, if for no other reason then to ease his own tension. Just holding the bulky rifle gave him an odd sense of security. He checked to make sure the weapons wasn’t loaded, switched the safety to single-shot mode and heard the familiar hum the capacitors made as they charged up. Then he pressed down on the trigger to hear the sound of energy discharging. Everything seemed as it should. Just like it had the last time he checked the weapon.

The text “I come in peace” had been scribbled on the side of his rifle. Just one of the many small augmentations the members of the militia liked to do with their equipment. And out here on the fringe they could get away with it. It’s funny how attached people can become to their material possessions, Morham thought. He’d even gone so far as to name his rifle “Bertha” and often talked about as if it was a real person.

He reached down to the right side of his waist and slid open a hidden compartment with a simple flick of his wrist. The compartment held his spare ammo, and he checked his three magazines, pre-loaded with standard 8mm steel spikes. He closed the compartment again and reached over to the other side to check on his grenades, three anti-personnel grenades ready for use.

Just as Morham was completing his inspection the door separating the drop area and the cockpit slid open, revealing a burly looking lieutenant Coldwell with a sour look on his face. His suit, a CMC-660, was even bulkier then the one Morham and the rest of his squad wore and made the image of the lieutenant that much more impressive.

As the lieutenant stepped over the threshold and into the drop area with the rest of the marines, another figure deftly slipped in right behind him. A tall and lean man with black hair, wearing a skin-tight suit of some sort. Morham didn’t recognize him from before so he presumed he was a technician of some sort, or perhaps an engineer assigned to their squad for the duration for the mission.

There was something very odd about him though, something that felt very out of place. Morham couldn’t quite put his finger on what that might’ve been at first, but there was definitely something strange about the man. The way he moved for instance, it almost seemed too graceful and controlled. And his eyes, they had a very hollow look to them as they darted around the drop bay. And when they met with Morham’s own, the marine couldn’t help but look away from the sheer intensity in them. It was as if the man was looking straight into his soul, reading Morham like an open book.

No, there was something very different about this man, that much was plainly noticeable, and the realization of what exactly that was hit Morham like a brick to the head a few seconds later.

"Alright marines, listen up!" The lieutenant barked, demanding everyone’s full attention. The men quieted in anticipation, perhaps he had finally deemed it fit to let them in on their orders, they had been waiting for nearly an hour already, after all, without the slightest idea about where they were going and what they were supposed to do.

“For some of you, what I’m about to say is not going to be easy to hear. But out of all the squads operating out of our base, you were the ones with the least ties to Chau Sara, so consider yourself lucky.”

Something big had happened on Chau, that much was as plainly obvious by now.

“Three hours ago, a number of ships of unknown design dropped out of warp-space in high orbit around our sister planet. All attempts at communication with them failed, and without warning or provocation this fleet then proceeded to lay waste to the planetary defenses in orbit with little effort. Afterwards they turned their attention towards the planet below, unleashing a massive bombardment. Long range sensors suggest that the surface of the planet has been devastated and the ambient temperatures exceed levels where life can be sustained.”

“LT, just wha… what exactly are you saying?” One of the privates besides Anderson and Morham asked with a cracking voice.

Coldwell’s eyes almost took on a sad expression, something Morham had never seen before. “I’m saying that everything on the planet is dead and destroyed. It’s been completely incinerated.”

Out of all the possible things Morham had speculated on earlier, nothing had come close to the truth. A fleet of unknown vessels had attacked Chau Sara? What faction could possibly muster an attack like that? The defenses around the planet would’ve been strong enough to repel anything but the most determined Kel-Morian or Umojan attack, and had they been behind this, then the vessels wouldn’t have been of an unknown design.

“I know that some of you had people that you knew on Chau Sara, but I’m asking you to put aside your grief for them a while longer. Because right now, I need you all focused and alert for the mission ahead.” The lieutenant continued.

Morham knew that Orwell, the marine that had just spoken up, had family on Chau Sara, so it was little wonder he had seemed so distressed. With Chau and Mar Sara being the only two habitable worlds in the system, and both harboring populations that barely reached into the millions, it was quite common for people to know a great deal of people from the neighboring planet. Some of the other marines looked affected by the news as well, but Morham himself couldn’t recall anyone he knew being on Chau Sara, he was after all, still relatively new to this system.

“Sir,” Private Sanders spoke up. “You said the hostile vessels were of an unknown configuration. Are there any indications as to who they were?”

Coldwell looked at Sanders, as if pondering whether to answer the question or not. “There is no reliable information as to who they were at this time,” He answered briefly, before deciding to go on. “However, intelligence is of the opinion that the enemy is most likely of alien origin. Their technology is beyond anything we’ve seen before. It’s doubtful even old-earth could have reached such technical sophistication by now.”

“Aliens?” Anderson blurted. “Are you saying that Chau Sara was attacked by… by little green men?”

“I don’t know what they look like or what color their skin is. Like I said, intelligence is only speculating on them being alien at the moment, nothing is certain. What I do know is our orders, and if you ladies are ready, I’d be eager to share them with you.”

Coldwell took a slow look around the bay to see he still had the marines’ attention. Convinced that he did, he continued.

“Immediately after the attack had begun, the Confederacy sent whatever military vessels it had in-system to attack the enemy fleet. However, the attack resulted in an un-coordinated disaster, and we lost nearly all of our attacking assets. There is one piece of positive news though. We managed to separate two smaller craft from the main bulk of the enemy fleet during the attack, and after a lengthy chase forced them to crash land here on Mar Sara. The first ship was reported to have completely broken up upon re-entry into our atmosphere, and is now spread out over an area of several hundred square kilometers; the second one came down fairly intact however. Needless to say, it’s imperative that we capture the remains of that ship for study, as it would give us a much needed look into who and what exactly we are dealing with.”

Most of the marines were still too hung up on the fact that Chau Sara had been attacked and that everything on the planet had been destroyed and killed to realize what kind of mission they had just been sent on.

“The situation in space is a mess at the moment. The hostiles warped away over an hour ago and haven’t been seen since. The Confederacy has dispatched a large fleet toward our system, but they are still in-transit and won’t get here in a few hours. That’s why they’re relying on the colonial militia to both lock down the system and secure the crash site.”

“Sir, are we expecting to actually engage these hostiles? Shouldn’t we have dispatched a larger force?” Private Sanders asked.

“Confederate intelligence assures us that nothing survived the crash, they’ve been continuously scanning every centimeter of the crash site via satellite, and so far there’s been no discernable activity there. Besides, the vessel crashed straight into the ground at over thirty kilometers per second, there’s no way anything can survive something like that.” The sergeant said. “The reason we’re being sent in is simply to keep away potential scavengers. That ship would no doubt look like a mighty fine piece of loot to any and all who want to make a quick buck. So we’re going to make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. And one squad of marines is more then enough to keep away such rabble.”

Morham couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the fact that he a moment ago had been hoping never to re-live those years of hell during the Guild Wars and that he’d even entertained the idea of quitting the service altogether. This would be all but impossible after today’s events.

"And what might your part in this mission be?" Private Yurio asked, directing the question to the man who’d been standing silently beside the lieutenant. There was obvious contempt in his voice, which wasn’t all that surprising to Morham.

“Specialist Resnick has been sent by speedboat all the way from Dylar IV to act as an observer during this mission.” Coldwell replied.

The question had been a moot one, of course, since the marines had all pretty much guessed what Resnick’s role in all this was by now. He was a ghost, a highly skilled Confederate assassin and infiltrator. There were a lot of strange rumors floating around about his kind, suggesting that they had a wide variety of inhuman abilities, even such crazy things as telepathy. The Confederates no doubt wanted someone they knew they could trust on this mission, and who more loyal then someone trained to obey since birth?

No one liked the ghosts, as bad things seemed to follow them wherever they went. Yurio himself had once said he’d been apart of a mission with a ghost. He never did give any details, but it was obvious that whatever happened had left a deep seated hatred towards the assassins in him.

"We will be touching down a few klicks from the crash site, as we don’t want to draw unwarranted attention to the site from potential onlookers, if there are any. We’ll then make our way towards the target on foot. Get your gear in shape, we’ll be making the drop in a few minutes." Lieutenant Coldwell said, and then marched back into the cockpit, the ghost following him silently, letting his gaze linger on Yurio for a while, before stepping through the hatch.

The door slid shut behind the pair, leaving a very quiet pack of marines behind.

"Wow,” Sanders finally said, breaking the silence. “I always thought those crackpots going on about aliens were mental.”

“A shame none of the ones on the crashed vessels are alive.” Orwell said, his voice stretched and thin. “I’d love to be the one to put a spike through each and every one of their heads.”

“Bah! Confederate intelligence!” Anderson laughed. “You’re expecting them to actually get something right for once? Not damn likely. This was nothing but another one of those stunts pulled by the Son’s of Korhal or some other terrorist faction. Probably tricked the sensors to make it seem like there were alien ships out there or something.”

“I wonder if they are the short gray type people always claim are snatching their cattle.” Morham said.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? There are no stinkin’ aliens!” Anderson shouted.

“Now there’s a freaky thought.” Sanders chuckled. “I don’t suppose small and skinny fellows like that would respond well to a good old fashioned impaler burst, eh?” He said, tapping his rifle with metallic fingers.

Anderson threw up his hands in resignation, as no one seemed to be listening to him anymore. “…Bunch o’ damn idiots.”

“I don’t think we should be worried about the aliens right now. It’s the ghost we should be keeping our eyes on. He’d have no qualms killing our entire squad if that somehow improved the chances of him fulfilling his orders… whatever those might really be.” Yurio said.

But Morham couldn’t help but wonder, if the alien fleet had been able to destroy their ships as easily as the lieutenant had implied, and then moved on to destroy the entire surface of Chau Sara in short order, then what would their soldiers be capable of?

Good thing they were all dead.

[l33telboi]

Chapter 2: Extraterrestrial Diplomacy

The marines had gotten really riled up by now. Their anxiousness at getting a glance at the supposedly alien vessel manifested itself in lots of nervous chatter and bluster.

Orwell was the only one to remain silent during their approach to the crash site. Morham, taking a closer look at the man, noticed that he was visibly trembling, and clasping his rifle so hard in his metallic hands that the sergeant thought it might break under the strain. He could only guess at what it might be like to hear you’ve just lost your entire family. He considered himself lucky for not being in Orwell’s boots right now.

The soft red light that had bathed the drop-area suddenly changed to that of green, informing the marines that it was time to get ready for the drop.

Methodically, they all slid down their visors, detached the power cords that had been powering their suits, unfastened the clamps that secured them to their seats, and got up to a standing position, grabbing hold of a railing just above their heads with one hand and hoisting their rifles in the other.

The hatch separating the cockpit and the drop-bay slid open and in stepped the lieutenant and his pet ghost once again. “Alright boys, our pilot has scanned the LZ and there’s no indication of any activity there, hostile or otherwise, so we’ve got the green-light for a drop. Sergeant, prepare to deploy your men.”

Morham acknowledged the order. He also noted that the lieutenant was carrying a massive EK-8 gauss minigun, a particularly powerful piece of hardware, while the ghost was now wearing his full gear, and holding a C-10 canister rifle. The firepower those two carried was probably in excess of what the rest of the marines had on them combined.

Coldwell and Resnick took up positions with the marines, waiting for the rear hatch to open up and allow for the men to be disgorged.

The shaking grew more severe as the dropship started maneuvering sharply in the turbulent atmosphere, making its final approach, and the marines had to hold on tight in order to keep from falling over. Inertial dampeners on dropships like this weren’t exactly known for their efficiency. Then the craft jerked heavily, pulling its nose up, which was closely followed by a large thump, as the craft slammed down on the ground, finally coming to a standstill.

The hum of the servos controlling the rear hatch could be heard as they started opening it. Bright light spewed from the cracks at the edges of the opening door, and the suits’ visors automatically adjusted to the brightness, allowing the marines near-perfect vision when normally their eyes would have had trouble adjusting to the sudden increase in brightness. Dust and sand came blowing into the drop-bay and the torrent of rushing air whipped against the marines, trying to grab hold of them. But a mere gust of wind stood no chance against the likes of a half-a-ton combat suited marine.

“Secure the LZ!” Sergeant Morham shouted.

The marines first in line on either side of the drop-bay, Sanders and Yurio, rushed out and disappeared into the swirling maelstrom of dust and sand. The men quickly checked the area for any hostiles, using the close-range motion-sensor system built into their combat suits, as their eyes were all but useless in the storm the downward blast from the thrusters had whipped up. It was somewhat of a redundant step, of course, since the dropship had already used its more precise scanners to check the area. The real reason these precautions were used was to ‘check the water’, so to speak. There was technology around that would allow people to hide from even the sophisticated sensors on a dropship. And if this was the case, all the marines could hope for was that the enemy would be foolish enough to take a pot-shot at the first marines out there and thus reveal themselves.

As it was however, there was no one there to greet them, just as predicted.

“Clear!” Sanders shouted over the comm, and one after another, the rest of the squad ran out to join them, with the lieutenant and the ghost being the last two to exit the craft.

The men spread out and took up defensive positions around their drop-zone.

“Alright boys,” The dropship pilot said over the comm. “I’m heading out, so you’re on your own from now on. Command says Confederate forces should relieve you in about two hours.” The pilot in the dropship said, and then broke off towards the horizon. The engines on his vessel bleared deafeningly and accelerating it away faster then one would think such a brick would be able to.

The landscape surrounding the marines was composed of the usual red sand and rust-brown dirt of the Saran planets, with sharp ridges shooting up on all sides around them. The entire length of the path to the crash-site would be dotted by mountains and fairly craggy terrain. It would be perfect for a stealthy approach, but it’d also be perfect if an enemy had spotted them and wanted to ambush their squad. Of course they’d have to know the exact route the marines would take to do that, so the risk was minimal. And the chance that some rag-tag pirate group actually dared attack them was even more remote.

"The crash-site is three clicks east from here. We should be able to make it there in short order. I’ve uploaded topographical data and geographical information into your suits’ HUDs, check them regularly, if something goes wrong it’s good to know the surrounding terrain." The lieutenant said. “Sergeant, take your men out.”

“Alright, you heard the man,” Morham shouted. “Single file, loosely spaced. Sanders, Yurio, switch to infra-red mode. Orwell, keep an eye on the motion tracker. The risk of hostile encounters might be minimal, but I want everyone on their toes.”

"As for you, specialist,” lieutenant Coldwell said and turned towards the ghost. “You’ll approach the site from an elevated position and concealed position. I want eyes up high, understand? Follow us by the path I’ve marked for you and contact us the second you see anything suspicious. Otherwise I want radio silence."

Resnick nodded and took off towards one of the ridges without so much as a word. He was moving gracefully, with a speed that seemed unnatural for the human form. And when he reached the first crags up in the distance, Morham could swear the man just up and disappeared, as if he had simply vanished into thin air. The sergeant knew that cloaking technology that could render objects invisible to the naked eye existed, but not that it’d been miniaturized to the point where individual soldiers could carry such systems.

“Alright, file in, were headed out! Yurio, take point.”

Morham watched as Coldwell started off towards the objective in his lumbering combat suit. At one point in time the sergeant himself had walked around in a CMC-660, though his had been the “Firebat” version, rather then the “Painkiller” modification Coldwell currently donned, the main difference lying in the weapons loadout. The 660 was less nimble then the CMC-300s, but it packed a lot more armor and could carry far heavier firepower due to the increased mass and stability it provided. The 10mm gauss minigun, firing depleted uranium slugs at hypersonic velocities had such tremendous recoil that such a suit was required in order to fire the weapon with any degree of accuracy.

Not long after, they were making their way across the rocky terrain at a brisk pace. All of them were on the alert and keeping a lookout for anything suspicious, but the land around them was as dead as a rock, and apart from the occasional plant there was nothing but sand, dirt and stony earth in every direction.

Anderson, through his alcohol impaired senses, thought of the march as a nice little outing rather then the advance towards a military objective that it really was, and he was happily whistling a cheery tune to himself inside his suit. No one else could hear it, of course, since he had his comm systems switched off.

A kilometer passed without incident, but a sudden shout broke that tranquility. "Contact!" One of the marines up ahead bellowed, and the shout was quickly followed by the sounds of rifle fire.

The rest of the squad scrambled for cover and swung towards the area the private was targeting, they joined in and sprayed the entire area with hypersonic spikes, though their targeting systems hadn’t registered any enemy yet. The needles tore their way to their destination with a crackling sound and peppered whatever it had been Orwell had been shooting at, barely two hundred meters away, throwing up dust with every impact, making it impossible to see what the marine had been firing at in the first place.

"Goddamnit! Hold your fire!" The lieutenant shouted over the comm. and the rifles quieted in obedience. For a few tense moments the entire squad sat there, silently watching the target area for any signs of movement.

"The motion sensors registered movement out there, sir!" Private Orwell said, wanting to press the attack.

"I know you did, private, I saw it too. But what makes you think you can go around shooting at anything that moves? What if it had been a curious civilian? Would killing him help us secure the crash-site? We only open fire if we can confirm the targets are indeed hostile." The lieutenant said, and strode over to the spot Orwell had targeted. There was still too much dust in the air to see what he had been shooting at, but it all became much clearer when Coldwell hoisted a dead rhynadon, or rather, the largest piece of it that remained intact, into the air.

"This, ladies, is not a hostile target.” The lieutenant said, pointing an armored finger at the shredded carcass hanging from his hand. “This is a rhynadon. A one-hundred and twenty kilogram herbivore that wouldn’t threaten so much as a bug, much less a fully armored and armed marine! Now while I can see how some of you can make the mistake of confusing an armed and dangerous hostile for a docile animal, I would suggest that you think before you shoot next time. Giving away our position like this might cost us more then a few rounds of ammo next time!”

Coldwell dropped the broken beast to the blood soaked ground and marched back to Orwell, sliding up his visor as he did. He didn’t look too happy. “Explain yourself, private.”

Orwell slid his visor up to meet the gaze of the furious lieutenant. “I… I thought it was one of those aliens… Sir.” Orwell explained, showing Coldwell that his hate for the unknown aggressors was clearly clouding his judgment.

“I want you to listen closely to me, private.” Coldwell said, leaning closer. “The aliens, if they are even aliens, are dead. They died in the crash. I know you lost your family in the recent attack, but if you don’t get a hold of yourself, you’ll be relieved of duty. Now can you focus on the objective at hand or am I going to have to order you to remain behind?”

“I’m fine, sir. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“Great,” the lieutenant said. “And don’t go making any new ones either.” He added, heading back up the line of soldiers. “We’re moving out!” He said over the comm, and added a few berating words to Morham as well, telling him, in private, to control his men better.

“Nice move there, Orwell. You sure showed that critter who’s boss.” Anderson taunted over a private comm line.

“Shut up.” Was the only forthcoming reply.

The column of marines continued their advance, the built-up tension relieved somewhat by the brief slip-up.

Some time later, after rounding yet another one of the endless ridges, the marines came into visual range of the crash site. The still burning hulk of the downed alien ship lay a little over three hundred meters away, at the end of a long trench it had dug when it came down. A black column of smoke still rose from the burnt and broken carcass of the vessel.

Intelligence had said the ship was one of the smaller ones, but it must’ve been nearly two hundred meters long.

“Whew, that must’ve been some landing.” Yurio said, giving a short whistle of appreciation.

“Yeah, I’d hate to have been one of the bastards inside the ship when it came down.” Sanders added.

“Cut the chatter and take up positions along the lip of the trench, fifteen meter spread between each man. I want your full attention focused on that wreckage and its surroundings.” The lieutenant ordered. “Sanders, Yurio, IR scan. The rest of you zoom in to visually check for movement. I want every centimeter in and around that ship checked and then re-checked.”

The marines scrambled to do as they had been ordered. Their eyes were fixed on the burning mass in front of them, their suits visors zooming in on the smoking wreckage, searching for any signs of life. But unsurprisingly there were none to be found.

“Sir, the heat radiating off the ship makes IR equipment virtually useless, it’s all just one big blur.” Sanders reported.

“Roger, switch to normal imaging.”

On the incline to their left, Resnick, who had been silently flanking the group all along their trek towards the crashed ship, was doing the same thing, combing through the area with the scope on his rifle, trying to find some evidence of something still alive down there. But the smoke and debris clouded most parts of the ship from his sights, and the landscape around it was completely barren. Neither did his motion sensors find anything, and they had a significantly longer range when compared to the ones the marines carried.

What troubled him was that even though he registered no life with any of his technological equipment, he thought he could feel a psionic presence down there, and a very strange one at that. But even so it barely registered on his psionically attuned senses. He finally shrugged it off as interference from the tense mood of the marines down below him. If there was something alive down there, it would be registering more clearly.

“Why the hell are we crawling around in the dirt for?” Anderson finally asked, growing tired of all the needless caution. “Nothing could have survived that crash and neither are there any scavengers present.” He added, voicing what everybody else was already thinking.

Even Morham, the rational part of him, had started to think that maybe his anxious mood was needless. But then why was he sweating so much? And why couldn’t he shake that deep-seated feeling in his stomach that something wasn’t as it should.

“That’s just a damn shame now isn’t it?” The voice of private Sanders echoed through the headset of all the marines. “I was looking forward to seeing some real action.” A few muffled chuckles could be heard from the other Marines.

“Well, in that case, Sanders won’t have anything against taking a closer look at that wreckage, will he?” Lieutenant Coldwell’s voice cut through the quiet laughter of the others. “But don’t you worry, the rest of us will cover you from up here.”

Apparently the lieutenant wasn’t completely satisfied with the idea that the area was clear just yet.

Sanders didn’t doubt his own assessment of the situation, and there was no way anything could be hiding inside the burning hulk of the alien ship, they’d be burned to a crisp in seconds. But he was still a little nervous about getting closer to the wreckage, what if something volatile blew up, what if the aliens had rigged their ships with booby traps just in case they crashed?

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get down there and report back when you’ve searched through the immediate area.” The lieutenant insisted.

“Yes, sir!” Sanders replied grumpily and got up.

The marine walked over to the edge of the trench the crashed vessel had dug, searching for an easy way down. He didn’t fancy taking a tumble now that all the others were looking.

Just then, Yurio thought he saw something shimmer briefly in the sunlight, some distance away, at the edges of the wrecked ship. But by the time he had focused his sights and realized what it was, it was already too late.

“Get down!” He shouted, trying to get Sanders to take cover, just as a small object shot forth from the vessel and crashed into the bewildered marine standing out in the open. The object that hit the soldier couldn’t have been more then a few centimeters in diameter, but the blast from it was enough to blow the entire nearby area sky-high, the shockwave making itself apparent on the two closest marines and showering the entire area with dust and raining pebbles of rock.

Yurio looked back at where Sanders had stood, but there was nothing but a crater there now. A quiet terror gripped him, even as he could hear the other marines shouting out frenzied commands and opening fire all around him. He himself found that he could not move.

None of the other marines had seen where the shot had originated from and they all knew they were hitting nothing but dirt and metal as they sprayed the wreckage with spikes, but still they held their triggers down. They couldn’t see the vessel through all the smoke, but the HUDs showed the location where it should’ve been clearly enough.

Coldwell, confident that the smoke would shield him from enemy eyes, got up and aimed his weapon in the general direction of the wreckage. He pressed down on the trigger. The air around him was filled with the noise of the spinning barrels and supersonic booms as he peppered the enemy ship with one hundred and twenty hypersonic depleted-uranium spikes per second. The spray looked more like a stream of blue energy beams then physical projectiles, as the continuous flight of metal ionized the air. The recoil dug his feet into the dirt around him as he braced against the massive force the weapon produced. Back and forth he swung his minigun, making sure that every single inch of the vessel had been hosed with spikes.

One of the other marines got up and threw a number of grenades in the direction of the enemy, his suit enhanced strength easily propelling the grenades across the distance. Explosions augmented the noise of rifle fire, and the entire area in front of them was turned into a giant orgy of flame and destruction.

"Hold your fire!" The lieutenant finally shouted over the comm and the sound of weapons fire died down. By now the entire area from the marines to the ship was bathed in nothing but smoke and dust. "Visually locate the hostiles before opening fire again, otherwise we'll just end up hitting nothing!"

He was hoping that their massive barrage had at taken at least a few of the enemies out and given the survivors a good scare. With some luck there were no more enemies… But that thought felt unpleasantly familiar.

The marines acknowledged the orders and reloaded their rifles. Then they started scanning the area again, their motion scanners running in the background all the while. They might have a hard time finding the enemy through all that smoke, but the enemy would be hard off getting a clear shot at them as well.

Morham felt cold sweat trickle down his face and his heavy breathing echoed in his ears. Somehow he had known that something like this was going to happen.

And it was still far from over, so he focused his sights on the general area of the wreckage again.

There! What was that? For a split second the sergeat thought he saw something, a shadow perhaps, moving behind the thick veil of dust and smoke, and it was coming straight towards them. He searched for the figure again but couldn’t find it. There was nothing there now but clouds of sand. He checked his motion sensors, but he knew it to be futile, the enemy would still be out of range, and IR was too blurred to make any sense.

Then he heard a shout from Orwell, who was situated to his far left. A second later gunfire followed. Morham turned to look at the spot the marine was firing at and saw what looked like the contours of a bipedal creature approaching the firing soldier at a running pace. When it exited the cloud Morham saw that it wore golden armor of some sort that shone in the sunlight, and it looked wholly alien. It covered the distance between itself and the edge of the trench in only a few seconds, and then leapt into the air to land no more then a few strides from Orwell, all while the private kept emptying rounds at full-auto into the beast.

It had to be at least a head taller then a human. Twin blades jutted out from its arms, but they didn’t look like they were made from any tangible material, indeed they seemed almost as if they were made of pure energy -- azure fire, of some sort.

The two marines closest to the enemy got up to their knees and opened fire at the monstrosity, careful not to hit Orwell in the process. Yurio was one of those marines, he’d snapped out of his panic stricken state, the combat suit’s drug-injection system making sure of it. But the slugs that were spat from their rifles never connected with the beast itself. A blue field of some sort shimmered into existence and harmlessly repelled the spikes just before they were about to impact.

Morham tried to get a fix on the target, but he knew he would only risk hitting Orwell if he opened fire at this distance.

And before he knew it, the warrior was at arms length from Orwell. He could only watch in silent horror as the alien made a few swift slashes with its blades and cut the marine down, the energy plowing through solid neosteel armor like a hot knife through butter, leaving behind cauterized flesh and molten metal. The comm filled with the blood-filled screams of the dying marine even as the gunfire continued to rain down on the slashing enemy.

The alien turned to head for the marine next in line -- Yurio -- Morham realized. But by now the strength of the field surrounding the creature seemed to have weakened from the continuous fire, and then it finally failed. The monster tore forward even as the first spikes started penetrating its armor and skin. It gave one final thrust with one of its blades and stabbed it straight through Yurio’s visor, killing the marine instantly. But without the shielding to protect it, the warrior was torn to pieces even as its bladed arm was still lodged in the dead marines head. Its body came apart and blue ichors sprayed from the beast, leaving nothing but a crumpled heap of guts and gore on the ground after a few more seconds of continuous fire.

Another shout came through the comm system, this time from Anderson, who was situated furthest to the left, beyond where Yurio and Orwell had been. Morham realized that in their concentration on the first alien, another one had managed to cover almost the entire distance between itself and the marines.

Morham got up and aimed his rifle at the alien running for his friend. This must have been the one that had killed Sanders, he realized, as he noticed a rifle like object slung across its back. Morham and Anderson let out burst after burst of fire but the enemy didn't so much a flinch as it advanced. The force from their combined fire must’ve been massive, but it did nothing to slow down the inhuman dash towards them. They could do nothing to stop it and soon the alien had reached Anderson. The marine gave one final horrified scream and pressed down on the trigger as hard as he could.

But nothing happened.

Anderson looked down and realized the problem, his finger, hand and rifle were no longer attached to the rest of his body. His eyes focused on his arm, lying there on the ground beside him, still clutching the rifle, acrid smoke rising from seared the flesh. It had been cut clean from his body with a single swipe by the enemy’s energy blades.

Private Anderson realized he was already dead, but he wanted to see his attacker, so he lifted his head to meet its gaze even as it prepared to strike him. Its eyes burned with an unnatural fire.

Morham watched in silent impotence as a final swipe finished the life of his closest friend, sending his headless body crashing to the ground.

He could feel tears building up behind his eyes, blurring his vision. The fear that a moment ago had dominated his mind was gone now, replaced by a hatred he hadn’t known he was capable of, and probably wasn’t capable off without the synthetic drugs being pumped into his bloodstream. He gave a primal scream, slammed another magazine into the rifle and pressed down on the trigger. He ran towards the enemy, all rational thought suppressed and replaced with an overpowering need to hurt the beast that had killed his friends. He would see the creature dead for what it had done, no matter the cost to himself.

The beast turned to focus its attention on Morham and his advance. The projectiles from the marine’s rifle still slamming against the energy field surrounding it, but it was only a matter of time before it would fail, he knew. And he would refuse to die before the alien did.

As it was, the shield failed long before the creature even got close to Morham, the strain put on it from before had been too much to cope with. The fiend was killed shortly thereafter, it’s body ripped apart by razor-sharp shards of metal. But that wasn’t enough for Morham. He spat and swore as he kept on pumping the creature full of spikes even as its broken body lay there in the dust. The assault subsiding only once the magazine clicked empty.

Morham looked down at his dead foe, his finger still pressing down on the trigger. He didn’t want to stop the assault. His chest heaved with exertion and he could feel his heart beating in his ears. Slowly, as his bloodlust subsided, he realized the pounding in his head had been replaced by an angry voice.

“Morham! What the hell are you doing?! Get back here and provide support, goddamnit!” The voice of lieutenant Coldwell barked.

The sergeant turned around to look at where his lieutenant was. In his hands he held his gauss-minigun, spraying an advancing alien with it, but the energy field halted the slugs in their tracks. It seemed impossible to Morham that anything could survive such an assault.

“Get here now!” Coldwell’s angry voice repeated.

Morham did as he was told and started for the lieutenant, lifting his rifle to his shoulder and aiming. ‘Click! Click! Click!’ was all that was heard when he pressed down on the trigger. Damn, he thought as realized he’d used up all of his ammo, and he had no more spare mags. He threw the rifle to the ground and reached down for his sidearm, a piddly pistol. It would be all but useless against enemies like this, he realized, but he had to do something.

As it was, his pistol wasn’t needed. The energy field the alien surrounded itself with was strong, but even it couldn’t withstand the massive firepower the lieutenant wielded. The field failed, and in less then a second the creature had been reduced to mincemeat. When Coldwell finally eased off the trigger, nothing remained of the fiend except a field of blue blood and ripped flesh.

But despite his victory, something wasn’t right with the lieutenant, Morham realized. He was screaming like he was in intense pain.

“Sir, what’s wrong?” The sergeant asked over the comm. But Coldwell didn’t answer him. Instead he slumped to his knees clutching the headpiece of his suit with his armored hands, shaking uncontrollably.

Just then, Morham spotted a fourth enemy emerging from the dust cloud. But this one didn’t come running at them like the others had. It didn’t even look like the others, instead of the golden armor and twin blades the others had had this one sported a long, flowing robe and it carried no visible weapons at all. And it almost looked like its feet were hovering slightly above the ground as it approached.

But when the lieutenant gave a scream so loud that Morham had to tone down his comm, he knew he had been wrong when he had thought it unarmed. He looked back to the strange enemy and saw that it held its hand stretched out towards Coldwell, as if it was reaching for him from afar, trying to grab him. Morham lifted his pistol and fired at the strange warrior, but that all too familiar blue shimmering field intercepted his slugs.

The lieutenant gave one final scream and jerked violently, his visor exploding from the inside out as the man slumped to the ground. On the inside of his headpiece, Morham could see that there was nothing more then a gory mess of brain and pieces flesh left where his skull should have been. His head had exploded -- but how? The sergeant didn't know what to think anymore, his entire squad had been taken down by only four of these strange aliens, and now he was out of ammo, with the most dangerous one of them slowly approaching him.

"You bastards think you’re tough, huh? Well let’s see how well you’ll swallow this!" He screamed as he grabbed a grenade from his waist. But something very odd happened before he could throw it. He felt the grenade being physically torn from his hand and thrown aside. Then he felt a heavy thud against his chest and was sent flying backwards through the air. His flight came to an abrupt halt before long though, as he hit a solid rock wall behind him and came crashing down on his face.

He managed to get up on all fours again, only to see the beast closing in on him, slowly reaching out for him as he had reached out for the lieutenant. A pain started growing in his head. He thought he was going to die right then and there.

But suddenly he saw something shimmer behind the alien. At first he dismissed it as a trick of his eyes, but realized it was something more when three explosions hit the alien’s shields in rapid succession, and then, to Morham’s surprise, the strange beast fell to the ground.

It hadn’t been knocked out by the explosions, indeed the shield had repelled those blasts, something else had done it, as if the enemy had been hit in the head by some invisible force.

"This one I think we’ll need alive." He heard a disembodied voice say. He looked around but couldn’t locate the source. If he’d managed to stay conscious for a few more seconds he would have understood why, as Resnick disabled his cloak and became visible, standing over the unconscious alien with an emotionless stare.

[l33telboi]

Chapter 3: The Aftermath

Morham woke with a start, forcing his body to an upright position before even realizing what he was doing. The beating in his head made him regret the sudden move quickly. He clutched his forehead and gasped in pain.

“Easy there big guy,” he heard a female voice say. “Just relax and try to breathe normally. The pain and confusion will pass in a moment.”

As simple as that sounded, it was still easier said then done. His heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his ears, and his breathing was frantic. He couldn’t even open his eyes because of the intense pain in his head and the knowledge that any light would only amplify it.

“Where am I? Who are you?” He asked.

“You’re in a make-shift infirmary on Mar Sara, and I’m the medic making sure you’re alright.” The voice answered in a calm, but somewhat detached, tone.

Morham tried to focus, tried to remember what had happened, tried to make sense of it all. But his mind was racing and his body felt like it was running on constant overdrive. He slowly re-opened his eyes, squinting so as to not allow too much of that bright painful light in. Everything around him was just a blur.

“I had to give you a hefty dose of stims to wake you up. What you’re experiencing now is the initial shock of your body absorbing them, something that can be very distressing if you’ve been sleeping or unconscious when the shot is administered.” The woman explained.

“Stims? We don’t use stims in the colonial militia.” Morham said. “Too dangerous.”

“Yes, I know.”

“So why’d you inject me with them?” Morham asked, able to see a little bit more clearly now. He focused on the voice he was talking too and could see a silhouette there, but nothing more then that.

“Colonel Hauer has demanded to see you, and stims were the only way I could think of to get you up and running again in any reasonable amount of time.”

Slowly the beating in Morham’s head eased up, and he realized that he could focus somewhat again.

He looked around and found himself in what looked like a small tent. There were beds laid out on either side of the space, but they were all empty. The only other people in the room were the woman who had been talking to him and two marines standing at the entrance of the tent.

“What happened?” Morham asked, rubbing his temples. His pain might’ve subsided a bit, but his headache was far from gone.

“That’s what the colonel would like to know. But from what I can tell from your injuries, you were in combat and managed to get banged up quite a bit. Nothing too serious though, mostly just bruises…” She replied as she went over the information a nearby machine was feeding her, then added a somewhat disconcerting “Not quite sure what to make of your neural readings though.”

“My head feels like its going to split open any second now.” Morham said.

“Yes, like I said it’s quite common for people who are given stims to experience a headache if they’re asleep when the stims administered, an unfortunate side-effect of your brain being jump-started and processing faster then it should even when awake. However, the readings I’m getting don’t quite correlate with what I should be seeing… I don’t think the stims are the only thing responsible for your headache. No need to worry though, it doesn’t seem to be anything all that serious, and the numbers are returning to normal, I’m sure the pain will ease up soon enough.”

“Thanks doc, that’s very reassuring.” Morham said in a sarcastic voice.

“Don’t blame me, sergeant, by all rights you shouldn’t even be awake right now, any decent physician would recommend that you’d get a decent amount of rest in the state you are in right now, but the guys who are running the show were very persistent when it came to talking to you.”

Morham tried to remember what had happened and how he’d gotten here, but his memory was sluggish. He’d been sent on a mission, that much he could remember, and he had a nasty feeling something had gone terribly wrong.

“Where’s my combat suit and my rifle?” The marine asked, having just noticed he was only wearing his pants. He felt naked without his gear in this banged up state.

“Right there,” The medic said and pointed to a rack by the entrance, where all his stuff had been neatly stowed away. “But don’t worry, you won’t be needing them for a while. You’re quite safe now that reinforcements have arrived.”

Morham’s breathing was returning to normal, and he felt his mind clearing up somewhat. The worst of the initial shock from the stims must be passing by now, he guessed.

“Now tell me, how much do you remember from what happened before you just woke up?” The woman asked, intently watching the never-ending numbers scrolling across the screen.

The marine tried to focus and conjure up those elusive memories again. “I… I was sent on a mission with my squad. We were supposed to…” Morham had to pause to gather his thoughts. “We were supposed to secure a crash-site…”

“Can you remember anything about the crashed ship or what happened when you arrived at the scene?”

“There was a lot of smoke and fire… and we couldn’t see properly,” he started. “Then we were attacked-”

Morham halted abruptly, his eyes wide open in shock.

‘By aliens’, his mind finished the sentence for him. And now it all started coming back to him, as if the gates holding back a great flood had been released. His squad had been massacred by a group of extraterrestrial monsters. And just before the world had gone dark for him, he’d been lying on the ground, with one of them slowly advancing on him, ready to kill him. He’d seen his lieutenant, and all of his friends, brutally murdered while he’d been watching helplessly.

“Was it a dream?” He asked, though he knew it hadn’t been. “…Tell me it was all a nightmare.”

The medic looked at him, a hint of pity in her eyes. “I’m afraid it wasn’t.”

“Then my squad… my friends… they’re all dead?”

“I’ve been told that you’re the only marine from your squad to have survived the encounter. But there was one other survivor, a ghost, did you know him?” She asked, perhaps hoping that that piece of information would alleviate his mental duress.

Resnick, Morham remembered, the assassin who’d been sent with them to ‘observe’ the mission. The realization that the ghost hadn’t lifted a finger to help them before it was already too late dawned on the sergeant. He could’ve easily used his higher ground to snipe the incoming hostiles, but he hadn’t. He had waited until everyone except Morham was dead before he made his move.

The sergeant squeezed his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.

The doctor, noticing the clenched fists and the angry expression on the marine’s face, decided that it would perhaps be best to not mention the ghost again. At least not while the sergeant was hopped up on psychotropic aggression enhancers.

“Well, from what I can tell you’re stable and recovering just fine.” The medic said after letting Morham cool down for a moment. “Like I said earlier, the only reason I woke you up was because the higher-ups wanted to debrief you on your mission as soon as possible. So if you feel like you’ve cleared your head, the soldiers over there will show you where you need to go. Sorry to be so hasty, but they really gave me no choice in the matter.”

Morham did feel much better now though, the pounding in his head wasn’t as bad as before, and though his muscles felt like they’d been strained to their limit and then some, he knew he could move around easily enough. In fact, he felt oddly rejuvenated and alert given the state he was in. The occasional urges to kill and maim were a little troubling though.

“Damn stims…” He whispered to himself. It wasn’t hard to understand why some people chose not to use them. “Right, I better get going then, I wouldn’t want to keep our dear generals waiting.” Morham said and got up from the bed. The guards volunteered to help him, but he waved them away.

Pulling the flaps at the entrance of the tent aside, he found that the bright sunlight on the outside made his headache flare up briefly again. But this time it didn’t last. He shielded his eyes from the brightness so he could take a look around. The whole area was crawling with Confederate forces. People were rushing too and fro while heavy vehicles were excavating and ripping the entire place apart. The perimeter was patrolled by walkers and several marine squads, all belonging to Epsilon Squadron, by the looks of it. A mobile base had also been flown in. And up, high above him, Morham thought he could even glimpse the dark silhouette of a Behemoth-class Battlecruiser watching over them. The doctor hadn’t been kidding when she said he was safe without his combat suit.

“The whole damn place looks like an anthill.” Morham mumbled to himself.

“What’s that?” One of the marines escorting him asked, thinking Morham was talking to him.

“Nothing,” Morham replied. “Where exactly is it we’re supposed to be going” Eager to get the debriefing over with.

“That command center there,” The guard replied and pointed. “Colonel Hauer is waiting in one of the conference rooms on level three.”

* * * *

The debriefing was a quick and unpleasant ordeal. Morham was shown to a very plain looking room with nothing but a camera and a very stern looking colonel Hauer there to keep him company. He was then asked to recount the events of the mission as he remembered them. Several times the colonel interrupted him and requested elaboration on certain things that piqued his interest, such as the mysterious powers the last alien had demonstrated. The debriefing finally came to an end two hours after it had begun and Morham was dismissed. But not before the colonel had made it clear that he could expect more briefings like this in the future. No doubt the Confederacy wanted to pump him for every bit of information he had.

The sergeant left the room with orders to board a transport bound for Tarsonis.

After a quick trip to the infirmary to suit up and get his gear Morham found himself at the transport he was supposed to board. It was larger then the dropship that had carried him earlier and capable of the warp travel necessary to get him to his destination. But he also found something he didn’t expect there. Resnick was standing outside the vessel, probably waiting for him. He was wearing his form-fitting black suit, though he’d removed the headpiece.

“About time you showed up. We were supposed to dust-off half-an-hour ago, we’ve just been waiting for you.” He said as he spotted the approaching Morham.

Without saying a word the marine walked up to the ghost, grabbed him by collar of his suit and slammed him against the dropship with his combat suit enhanced strength. “You have one chance, and one chance only, to explain why you didn’t help while my squad was getting torn apart by those… things.” He said in a tone the promised Resnick he would regret it if he refused.

“I was following my orders by observing you. I don’t easily dismiss orders.” The Ghost said, his eyes narrowing. “And I think showing a little respect to the man who saved your life wouldn’t be out of order.”

Morham slammed his free fist into the hull right beside Resnick’s head, a punch that could’ve easily crushed the man’s skull. “Why didn’t you help us?!” Morham repeated, this time a bit more forcefully.

Resnick’s façade remained calm, the only physical response to the marine’s outburst a slight smile. “Exposing myself too soon in the fight would’ve been a mistake. I wanted to make sure the enemy had no more surprises up their sleeve before revealing my position. I would just have been throwing my life away without reason if it had turned out the enemy was too strong for us to tackle… Now if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you let me go.”

Morham wanted badly to pulp the ghost’s face, but felt his headache suddenly returning, so strong that he had to step back and compose himself. Not long after he had done so the strange pain disappeared again. He couldn’t help but wonder if the ghost had somehow triggered it.

“Good,” Resnick said. “I’m glad we could reach an understanding. Now, if you’re done with your pointless bluster, I suggest we get on with our assignment.”

Resnick turned around and marched off into the belly of the transport without so much as another word.

Morham grudgingly followed. The argument between him and Resnick wasn’t over yet. But for the moment, the marine was too exhausted to do anything about it.

* * * *

Some time later Morham found himself in the cargo-hold of the transport, speeding through space at faster-then-light velocities.

The place was a lot larger then the dropship he’d been strapped into earlier. And people could move around freely among the various boxes and goods that had been stored there. Most of it quite likely remnants from the crash site and the alien ship.

Like earlier that day he was surrounded by marines, but this time the faces were all unfamiliar. None of the others wore their combat suits either, since the trip was going to be a long one and they weren’t expecting any trouble. Morham still wore his though, for no other reason then that he’d simply been too tired to remove it. After boarding he’d just sat down on one of the benches in the corner, hoping that the others would pay him no attention as he tried to get some much needed shut-eye.

As it was though, sleeping seemed nigh impossible with all the ruckus around him. He might’ve wanted to rest but the others seemed quite animated and excited. No doubt because of the news of what had happened to Chau Sara and the prisoner they were transporting.

Morham glanced at the coffin-like contraption that held the alien that had tried to kill him earlier. Colonel Hauer had referred to the monster as a protoss, a somewhat strange sounding name for the species, but suitably alien. The front of the portable cell was transparent. And Morham found himself wondering how a creature so imposing as the alien had seemed earlier could look so helpless right now. Indeed it seemed little more then a caged and naked animal.

“You sure it ain’t gettin’ free?” One of the marines asked while eyeing the imprisoned beast, tapping the transparent surface to see if there was any reaction. But there was none.

“They said it’s been pumped so full of tranquilizers that it’ll be out for days.” Another one said. “And even if it managed to wake up that cage would stop him from doing much harm. It’s designed to issue electrical shocks until the captive is either dead or unconscious again.”

“Good, ‘cause it would be a shame if the bastard tried to escape and I had to kill him.” The first marine said to the others and chuckled.

Morham found himself smiling at that remark, though more because he realized just how pointless the bluster was. If that creature really got loose, there was nothing on the transport that would stop it. The marines standing there gawking at it probably didn’t even know of its seemingly magical abilities.

“What about you, sergeant,” one of the marines asked Morham. “I hear you were with the squad that actually brought this sucker and his friends down. What can you tell us about it?”

“All I can tell you is that I wouldn’t want it to wake up.” Was the only reply Morham cared to give. He didn’t want to join the others in the chest-beating, in fact, he had no wish to even be in contact with them right now, and so he just slid down his visor and sealed himself inside his combat suit. He could hear one of the marines saying something about him being a ‘fringe-world yokel’ to the others while pointing at Morham, but he found that he didn’t care too much.

Morham’s eyes were drawn to the protoss again. It was a strange looking critter indeed; gray when it came to skin color and roughly humanoid in form, though taller then any human and quite lean compared to its height. The legs were reverse jointed in stark contrast to humans though. And the head was anything but human. It didn’t even have a visible mouth or nose.

How do they communicate without a mouth? Morham briefly wondered. They had to be able to speak to each other in some way, all intelligent species had to, otherwise they couldn’t coordinate. He knew some animals communicated through smell, some via body-gestures, but that’d be very cumbersome for any sentient species.

Suddenly the intercom on the ship crackled to life, breaking his train of thought. “We’re getting some anomalous sensor readings from a system we’re passing through. You boys better strap in, we’re temporarily dropping out of warp to check-”

The pilot never managed to finish the sentence.

The transport suddenly jerked so sharply that Morham was thrown off his feet and to the floor, while others were thrown into walls and one even managed to slam his head so hard he started bleeding. The ships had dropped out of warp space but obviously not by the actions of the pilot. Then there was another sudden jolt accompanied by a noise like something physical had crashed into the transport. Morham found himself rolling across the floor.

We’re under attack! Morham’s mind screamed, thinking the protoss had returned to free the prisoner. But the truth was far stranger then so.

The sergeant shouted for the other marines to suit-up. A prudent move considering whatever was assaulting their vessel right now stood a good chance of cracking the hull. But it was also a near impossible feat to accomplish amongst all this turbulence. Indeed several marines had already badly injured themselves, one even lying unconscious on the floor, blood seeping from his head.

Then a third impact rocked the ship, and Morham found himself sliding into a wall, the metal from his armor scraping against the similarly metallic floor. This time the neosteel frame of the transport was bent to the point where a long thin crack formed in the ceiling. The air started rushing out as the compartment underwent decompression. It was clear to Morham that the others were doomed. Morham had just enough time to switch to the suits internal air-supply before a fourth impact split the entire cargo-hold in two and effectively halved the ship, blowing all of them out into space in the process.

Morham was robbed of his consciousness as he forcefully hit one of the edges of the ship on his way out into the great void.

The others weren’t so lucky. Except for a few that met their ends impaled or ripped in half by the jagged metal edges of the broken ship, the men were terribly conscious as the ship hurled them out into space with no more protection then their skin.

Some reflexively tried screaming, but the cold vacuum stole their voices, and suddenly the space around them made itself terribly apparent. Dying from exposure to space wasn’t considered a terribly nice way to go, and the reasons why was one thing they were about to experience.

The strangest thing of all though, was that the space around them wasn’t black like you’d expect. It was a bright golden in color, and they were surrounded by something that looked almost like a nebula viewed from afar. Off in the distance something that looked like a giant pulsating star seemed to have been born. If the men hadn’t been terrified to the point of madness, they would probably have considered it all quite beautiful.

[Brellin]

Interesting thus far, but focusing on individuals I think would make it difficult to properly tell a story of the 3 settings, as they are all interstellar civ's.

[l33telboi]

Character driven stories do tend to complicate things when we're talking about scales as large as this. There's a lot of backstory and stuff that you need to go through for each of the characters, which calls for a lot of exposition. Then there are the three various settings themselves that need to be explained. So it's a lot of stuff that needs to be dealt with.

But on the other hand I can't imagine writing a story that doesn't have characters at the center of it.

The setup I decided on was basically this: The story would follow a group (or groups) of people that are in the thick of the conflict, so that we through them get an idea on what's going on. This first part of the fic will mostly focus on setting everything up, describing characters, the verses, as well as getting the crossover events started. So far I've just dealt with the Starcraft verse, and of course the last chapter ended in the first plot-device that would enable the crossover.

[Brellin]

Granted. Stories that don't have well defined characters to drive them forward tend to be rather dull. I was simply trying to point out that focusing solely on the characters wouldn't do justice to the overall scale of the three settings you are writing about. SC is by far the smallest in terms of scale of the three, and the bits so far about the marine seargent barely convey the feeling of scope of the setting.

Obviously this could change with further chapters, this is afterall only the begining. I'm simply trying to say that while character focus is encouraged and welcome it shouldn't come at the exclusion of the overall scope of what these three verses represent.

edit- To question, are we going to see groups of OC's as the focal characters of the story? Or will there be cameo's by the more well known characters of each respective verse? Similarly, how long until Q appears to rub in how much of a douche he is?

[l33telboi]

Originally Posted by Brellin

Granted. Stories that don't have well defined characters to drive them forward tend to be rather dull. I was simply trying to point out that focusing solely on the characters wouldn't do justice to the overall scale of the three settings you are writing about. SC is by far the smallest in terms of scale of the three, and the bits so far about the marine seargent barely convey the feeling of scope of the setting.

Obviously this could change with further chapters, this is after all only the beginning. I'm simply trying to say that while character focus is encouraged and welcome it shouldn't come at the exclusion of the overall scope of what these three verses represent.

I don't think you'll have to worry that I'll be excluding the larger scope. These introductionary chapters might seem small in scope, but that's only because the focus for the moment is on setting everything up.

edit- To question, are we going to see groups of OC's as the focal characters of the story? Or will there be cameo's by the more well known characters of each respective verse?

Well, the next chapter will introduce the Enterprise-E and it'll play a major role in part one of the story, so no, this is not going to be OC's only. There are going to be quite a bit of them though, but I don't think any of them except those already introduced will have roles that span the entire story. The big names of each franchise will make appearances where they'd be logical.

Similarly, how long until Q appears to rub in how much of a douche he is?

He'll be popping up for the first time in chapter 9 or thereabout, depending on how large each chapter will be.

[JEKrug01]

Well, so far, so good. I am looking forward to seeing what's coming next... especially with the big E coming into play.

[l33telboi]

Chapter 4: The Anomaly

In an entirely different part of the multiverse, separated from the Koprulu sector not only by time and distance but dimension as well, a starship moved through the empty void of space at superluminal velocities.

Some people would recognize the ship as a Sovereign-class starship, one of the newest models to be produced by the United Federation of Planets. Others still might identify it as the Enterprise-E, one of the most decorated ships in all of Starfleet, with quite an illustrious history. The crew and its Captain, Jean-Luc Picard, had been part of many strange stories heard throughout this quadrant of space, and their escapades hadn’t gone unnoticed by anyone with even the smallest sense of adventure.

But in sharp contrast to the silence and tranquility of the emptiness outside, the inside of the ship, or more specifically the mess hall, was ablaze with the sound of laughter and celebration, as the crew welcomed back a very old friend of theirs.

Lieutenant Commander Worf, a Starfleet officer that had previously served on the Enterprise but was currently posted on Deep Space Nine, had rejoined his old crew once more for a diplomatic mission to Qo’noS, the Klingon homeworld. Starfleet hoped his presence among the delegation might be looked upon favorably by the Klingons, not only because of Worf’s Klingon heritage, but because he in part had been responsible for exposing the changeling posing as Martok not that long ago.

But there were other benefits with him accompanying the mission as well, more personal reasons. Worf had been sorely missed by the crew ever since his reassignment, and Picard thought his short visit on board the vessel might be a boost to the otherwise low morale, something the constant threat of war with the Dominion was responsible for.

Worf rejoining the crew had even given the captain a reason to organize a small festivity, something that was sure to relieve some of the tension.

It was ironic that the Klingon who was being celebrated wasn’t all that appreciative of such things, and was now trying his best to avoid the others in the crowded room, hoping that the spectacle would soon be over. He had nothing against a good celebration in general, indeed he relished the moments he got to drink bloodwine and sing great songs about his ancestors and their deeds. But human celebrations were not to his taste.

All around him people were chatting, laughing and whatever else humans did to enjoy themselves. But Worf much preferred his solitude from the mingling. His eyes fell on a foursome that was nearly bending over with laughter, and a disapproving scowl fell on his face. The large man drained the tiny looking glass he had been holding with one swift motion and put it down on a table nearby, determined to leave the room. Perhaps he could slip out without anyone noticing.

“Looks like you could use another one.” He heard the familiar voice of Deanna Troi say behind him. He turned around and found her standing there with two glasses in her hands, one of them stretched out towards him.

Troi was the ship’s councilor, a half-human half-betazoid, and she had worked closely with Worf on many occasions.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Worf declined.

“Come now, you know you can’t fool me. Just take the drink and try to enjoy yourself. It will all be over soon enough. Then you can get back to whatever else you were thinking of doing.” Troi smiled.

Worf had nearly forgotten what it was like to work with someone with telepathic and empathic abilities, like Troi. Nothing remained a secret for long, and it was pointless to try to hide your feelings from her. “I suppose it could help me get my mind off this... gathering.” He said and reluctantly accepted the glass.

The Klingon hadn’t changed a bit, Troi realized. And it was a welcomed realization.

“So, I heard you received command of your own ship… the Defiant, right?” Deanna asked, trying to switch the topic to something that might be more to Worf’s liking. Apparently it worked too, as his expression brightened instantly.

“Yes,” Worf said with a hint of pride in his voice. “Captain Sisko has his hands full with running the station most of the time, so he thought it fit to leave me in charge of the ship.”

“Indeed, quite generous of him. Sounds like you’re enjoying your time on Deep Space Nine.”

“The people there are a capable, working with them has been an-”

“Honor?” Troi asked, a smile gracing her face again. The Klingon’s perception of honor and how it dominated his culture had always fascinated her.

“Yes.” Worf replied briefly.

Conversing with the Klingon had never been easy, as he was a man of very few words.

“What are your thoughts regarding the meeting on Qo’noS? Do you think we will be received well?”

“I am not certain. It is always difficult to predict how the Klingon High Council will react, especially in times like these. They know they need the help of Starfleet if it comes to war, but as you also know their pride very often gets in the way of their reasoning. I would not be surprised if they suddenly thought they could take on the Dominion all by themselves and dismiss the alliance with the Federation.”

“Yes, dealings with the Klingons have always been… difficult.” Troi agreed.

“Hello there, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Yet another familiar voice asked. This time the voice belonged to Beverly Crusher, the ship’s chief medical officer, another old and trusted friend of Worf’s.

“Oh no, not at all, we were just discussing the upcoming meeting on Qo’noS.” Troi explained.

“Ah, so is everyone else.” The Doctor smiled, having already been over the subject with a number of other people in the room. “Somehow I get the feeling that there will be a lot of bruises and broken bones that will need to be mended before the meeting is over, and that’s if the meeting goes well.” The comment was meant as joke more then anything else, but they all realized that the prediction probably wasn’t far from the truth. Klingon meetings had a tendency to get a little on the rough side, in no small part because of the somewhat violent nature of Klingon culture.

In a different part of the room, making his way through the mingling masses, was Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the Enterprise. The man had an aura of authority and commanded the respect of most of those he had encountered, ally and enemy both. Currently he was looking for the hero of the hour, but found that navigating the room was difficult as nearly everyone he crossed paths with had something to discuss. He was happy to see crew morale high once more, of course, and he himself welcomed this short respite from the thoughts of the impending war and everything it entitled. But was it really too much to ask to be able to cross from one side of the room to the other?

“Everything alright, captain?” A beaming commander William Riker, the ship’s second in command, asked. “You look a little… irritated.”

“Just having some trouble finding Worf, that’s all. I had hoped to speak with him before the festivities are over, but it seems as if everybody else in this room is intent on keeping me from doing that.”

“Good.” Commander Riker said flashing that mischievous smile of his.

“Good?” Picard echoed, a surprised look on his face.

“For a moment there I thought you might still been thinking about the Dominion.” He continued. “We can’t very well have the captain brooding over things like that right now.”

“Indeed not.” Picard agreed. “Celebrating the return of a dear old friend takes top priority. We’ll have plenty of time to ponder the finer points about politics once we’re drinking bloodwine with the Klingons.”

“Right you are, Sir.” Riker added. “And I think I saw Worf this way.” He said and led the way through the throng of people. Not long after, they could see the burly Klingon, flanked by Troi and Crusher.

“He doesn’t seem to be particularly pleased by our little get-together.” Riker said, noting the sour look on the man’s face.

“No indeed, I’m guessing his Klingon heart would rather be in the gamma quadrant right now, battling the Jem’Hadar and singing songs of bravery and glory.” Picard agreed. The old warrior was indeed still the same man the captain had known all those years he served aboard the Enterprise, and that was probably the most cheerful thought he had had in a long time.

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour!” Picard proclaimed loudly as he finally reached Worf. “How goes the celebration?”

“It’s… fine, captain.” Worf said.

“Really?” Riker added knowingly with a grin.

Worf groaned. Everybody seemed to want to have fun at his expense.

“Hey, there you are!” Yet another familiar voice said among the crowd.

This time it was the chief engineer, Geordi La Forge, pushing his way through the crowd, with Data by his side. The android seemed a bit preoccupied with the two glasses he was holding though, sniffing at both inquisitively.

“I’ve been looking for you all night! For a moment I thought you were hiding from me.” Geordi joked.

“Data, what are you doing?” Troi asked, having noticed the android’s peculiar behavior and odd fixation with the two glasses he was carrying.

“I find these beverages fascinating, counselor, and I was just about to sample them.” The gold-skinned man answered and drained the two glasses in quick succession, only them appearing to notice Worf. “Ah, greetings Lieutenant Commander Worf.”

“Are you sure you should be doing that, Data?” Geordi asked. “Ever since you had that emotion chip installed you’ve been sampling quite a lot of different drinks.” There was an obvious emphasis on the word sampling.

“It is simply an experiment,” Data explained. “The sensation of taste is still new to me, and as I experiment with it, I discover new things about myself, as well as how to better process various emotions and feelings.”

“Uh-huh,” Geordi said, not totally convinced. “And what did those two drinks teach you?”

“I am not quite sure. I believe I enjoyed this one,” he said, holding up the empty glass in his left hand. “But this one was not to my liking.” he added, indicating the glass in his right hand.

“Still, I think you should take it easy, all these emotions are still new, might not be a good idea to overtax your sensory systems.”

“A prudent precaution, but at the moment-“

“It’s all very interesting, Data, I’m sure,” the captain interrupted, knowing that once the android got started he could go on for hours if no one interrupted him. “But let’s focus on something else for the moment, shall we? Here’s a toast to an old friend, and what will hopefully be a productive meeting on Qo’noS.” He said and raised his glass.

“Hear, hear,” the others chimed in and toasted their old friend.


* * * *

He found himself walking down a poorly lit corridor. The only thing keeping him from tripping in the darkness was a dim green light vaguely illuminating his surroundings. He couldn’t make out where the light was coming from, there seemed to be no source, it was simply there, omnipresent and… menacing, for some reason.

Twisted tubes, wires and metal covered the walls, floor and ceiling. The whole scene had a very surrealistic tone to it, as if it wasn’t quite real, as if it was somehow very wrong. And yet it was all too real at the same time. He didn’t quite know what to make of it all.

The air was thick and warm, the humidity making his skin sweaty and sticky.

Up in the distance he could see the silhouette of someone approaching him. The figure was walking at a slow but determined pace. He tried calling out to it, but he found that he couldn’t make a sound.

Why was there no sound?

For the briefest of moments the figure was illuminated, and terror gripped him as he realized what it was. It was a drone… a Borg drone. A cybernetic organism that had sacrificed much of its flesh in favor of metal and technology, leaving what had once been a normal person a disfigured cybernetic abomination.

The seconds seemed to slow as the drone shambled closer. He tried to turn and run away, to escape somehow, but he couldn’t. He just kept on walking towards it, in that same methodical pace as he had before. They were nearly at arm’s length now.

He was surprised to find that the drone walked right past him, as if it hadn’t even noticed him.

A horrible thought crossed his mind then and he forced himself to look down. He had hoped to find his own arms, hands and body there. But he didn’t. In their place he found something mechanical, something cybernetic… something Borg.

He felt very naked and exposed then, as if his thoughts had been made public, as if everything he was and stood for was put on display for everyone else to see. Fear gripped him and he tried to scream, but he couldn’t, his mouth would not obey his commands. Instead he just continued on his path down the corridor, obediently, as if he was only a passenger in his own body, with no control over it.

A voice rang out in his head, the voice of countless people talking as one, in perfect unison, the all too familiar voice of the Borg collective.

“Anomaly detected in sector two-one-one. Analysis indicates a possible dimensional breach. Investigate with highest priority.” It said, and then suddenly everything went black.

The dark corridor gave way to the bright and comfortable visuals of the ready-room. Picard found his heart was racing, his breathing was heavy and sweat trickled down his forehead. Judging by the fact that he was sitting on the bed, he surmised that what he had just been through was nothing more then a bad dream.

“It was just a nightmare, nothing more.” He tried to convince himself.

But on some level he knew that what he had just experienced was something much more. Every now and then he still felt as if though he could hear whispers from the collective, a voice that was muted just enough so that he couldn’t hear what was said, but still present. It was one of the few remaining curses he bore as a result of being assimilated into the collective once, and this dream might’ve been just another manifestation of it.

But what did it mean? The collective had mentioned a “dimensional breach”? What was that?

Was it even of any concern to him?

A console on his desk beeped to life then, startling the captain and sliding out from its folded position inside the table. Picard let out a sigh of relief as he noticed what made the noise and chuckled a bit at his own foolishness, he really needed to forget about the Borg, they were a non-issue at the moment and the captain’s focus needed to be on the present.

He composed himself and got up from the bed, walking over to the desk, correcting his uniform as he did so.

Incoming transmission from Starfleet HQ, the screen read.

They’re in an unusual hurry to hear how the meeting with the Klingons went, Picard thought. The Enterprise had barely broken orbit around Qo’noS and already Starfleet was contacting him.

“The least they could do is wait for me to finish my report on the matter.” Picard said to himself in an indignant voice as sat down in his chair, making sure he was in a presentable condition.

He tapped the display, accepting the incoming transmission and the image on the screen changed to that of a familiar man with gray hair, an admiral’s uniform and a neutral look on his face.

“Admiral, it’s good to see you again.” Picard said, his temporary dismay all but gone at the sight of an old friend.

“Likewise, Jean-Luc,” The figure replied. “How did the meeting with the Klingon delegates go?”

“As well as can be expected, there was a lot of bluster on their part, but progress was made. I’ll have my full report on the matter completed and sent to you as soon as possible.”

“That’s good news,” The admiral said. “But to tell you the truth, I’m not contacting you because of the Klingons.”

“Oh,” Picard replied, his curiosity piqued. “What is this about, then?”

“Our long range sensors have picked up something very curious situated in neutral space, between the Federation, Klingon and Romulan borders. I’ve contacted you because the Enterprise will be passing close to that area on your way back from Qo’noS.”

“Something curious? Could you be a bit more specific?”

“At the moment we have more questions then we have answers, and when asking the analysts what it is they’ve found they keep finding roundabout ways of saying that they’re not sure. All they can tell for sure is that the Keltagar system has been completely engulfed by what looks like a gaseous cloud of some sort, or an extremely dense, but small, nebula.”

“The Keltagar system? If memory serves, that system is uninhabited. I believe Starfleet briefly investigated the possibility of establishing a research base in the system, but nothing ever came of it due to diplomatic problems.” Picard said. “What about this cloud, do you have any more detail on it?”

“Afraid not, none of our scans can penetrate it deeper then a few kilometers. The cloud interferes with both regular and subspace scans. Starfleet research seems very interested in it for a wide variety of reasons though, and to be frank, so are the more militaristically minded people here.”

“Why would the Starfleet be interested in a gaseous cloud in a militaristic sense?”

“Whatever happened in that system, the end result is that it’s for all intents and purposes gone – destroyed. When a gas cloud that dense and large forms it can’t be good for whatever planets and moons there are in-system, needless to say, if this was the result of a new weapon, it’d be a quite potent one. Couple that with the fact that the system is practically next-door to both the Klingons and Romulans and you can see why Starfleet would be interested.”

“A weapon?” The captain echoed incredulously. “I doubt either the Klingons or Romulans would be foolish enough to pick a fight with the Federation at this moment. And testing out new weapons on an uninhabited border system that the Federation can easily spot is hardly a sound strategic move. Is there any other evidence of it being a weapon?”

“No. None at all. Like I said, this is just speculation and worst case scenario thinking, something Starfleet has become far to accustomed too as of late, if you ask me. But weapon or not, we still need to know what happened there, and the Enterprise is on a course that takes it within three lightyears of the anomaly. You’re the closest ship, and given the proximity to Romulan and Klingon borders, I’d feel better if a ship as capable as the Enterprise was the one doing the preliminary investigation. All you need to do is a quick close-range scan of the area and then wait for backup. We’ve already dispatched dedicated science vessels and escorts to perform a more detailed analysis, but they won’t be arriving for two more days.”

The admiral’s words briefly reminded Picard of the dream he had just had. Could it be related? He dismissed the notion quickly, choosing to focus on the present instead.

“I understand, admiral,” Picard acknowledged after giving the matter some thought. “We’ll scan the anomaly and report any findings as soon as possible.”

“Good, I’m transmitting the coordinates and all the data we have on the anomaly now. Good luck, Jean-Luc, the science team will relieve you in two days.” He said, and then the display changed to a message saying transmission terminated.

* * * *

A couple of hours later, after relaying the new orders and course to the crew, captain Picard found himself sitting in his ready room once again, going over the report the admiral had transmitted to him.

The mission seemed straightforward enough; all he had to do was travel to the Keltagar system and perform a series of scans on whatever it was that had engulfed it, then wait for the science vessels to arrive and take over. What bothered the captain most about the mission was the location, as the system was situated very close to both the Klingon and Romulan borders. If the two empires chose to, they could create quite the diplomatic mess of the entire situation. A powerful Federation ship in neutral space performing in-detail scans could be misinterpreted very easily, and that was not a very pleasant thought, since diplomatic relations were already quite volatile.

But worrying about those things wouldn’t help the situation right now. The anomaly was the only thing his mind should be focused on, Picard decided.

The captain was in the middle of the technical part of the report, the part explaining why it was so imperative to study this phenomenon. Apparently the chief scientist back at Starfleet HQ had been ecstatic when he had first analyzed the information from the scans. Picard didn’t understand most of the technobabble in the report, but at least he had gotten a somewhat firm grasp of the basics of it all.

There was, among other things, a strange particle field throughout the anomaly that caused both subspace and realspace scans to be deflected and distorted, something that could prove interesting if it could somehow be controlled and technologically replicated. Then there was also the lingering question about this being a weapon that needed to be answered.

The captain was still deep in his own thoughts when his comm-badge chirped. “Picard here.” He said after tapping it.

“Captain, we’re coming up on the Keltagar system now.” He heard commander Riker’s voice say over the comm.

“Acknowledged, drop us out of warp some distance from the system. I’ll be right out.” Picard replied. There was nothing more he could learn here, so he got up from behind his desk, straightened out his uniform, and strode out of his ready room. He briefly noticed the streaking stars outside his window becoming static again, indicating the ship was no longer traveling faster-then-light.

“Report.” Came the order as soon as he stepped out onto the bridge.

“We’re currently holding position outside the system, all systems normal.” Lieutenant Hawk, the helmsman, replied.

“Put the phenomenon on the main viewer.” Picard ordered as he walked over and sat down in the captain’s chair. “Let’s have a look at this cloud Starfleet is so interested in.”

The holographic screen that dominated the forward section of the bridge changed to display what had once been a normal star system, but now was something very different. A yellow and gold tinted mist had engulfed even the most remote planet orbiting the star.

“Looks like Starfleet was right when they said it looked like a dense nebula.” Commander Riker, sitting beside the captain, said.

“Indeed,” The captain replied “Mr. Data, what do our sensors show?”

“I am having trouble penetrating deeper then a few thousand kilometers into the anomaly, captain. But what I can scan seems to suggest the cloud is composed mostly of various naturally occurring vapors. I would speculate that much of what we see is material from the planetary bodies and the star that once belonged to the system. There is also a previously un-encountered particle-field type inside the cloud. It appears as if those exotic particles are the cause of our limited sensor range. They scatter and scramble any directed sensor beams.” Data replied, going over the readings on the console in front of him.

“If the cloud is made up of planetary and stellar matter, then is it possible the star simply went supernova, and that what we are seeing are the aftereffects?” Riker queried.

“I do not believe so, commander. The star in this system was not old enough and did not fit the criteria for going supernova.” Data replied.

“Aside from that there’s also one other rather large problem with it being a supernova.” Lieutenant Geordi La Forge interjected, having noticed something odd going over the readings relayed to his screen.

“Explain.” Picard said.

“The initial reports already said that the phenomenon had expanded to cover the entire system, and while I’m still reading some slight movement inside the cloud, it doesn’t seem to have progressed further since then. A supernova wouldn’t just suddenly stop once it reached a certain size, it would keep on expanding at nearly the speed of light. This… is almost as if there was a great explosion that suddenly stopped in its tracks.”

“That doesn’t seem possible.” Riker said.

“There is also another problem with the supernova theory. Judging by the gravitational pull of the star system, it seems it has increased in mass a thousand-fold from what it originally was.” Data added.

“That would definitely preclude that this whole thing is natural. Star systems don’t just increase in mass without cause. And if this is the result of some weapons test then it means that the weapon somehow transported unthinkable amounts of matter into the system.” Picard said, taking in all the information. “Is there any way we can get more detailed scans of the phenomenon?”

“Moving closer would increase sensory range by a few thousand kilometers, but no more then so. It is also possible that we might be able to adjust the ship’s sensors compensate for the disturbance caused by the exotic particles, but that would take time.” Data replied.

“How much time?”

“I have insufficient data to make such an estimate, captain.”

“Helmsman, move us right to the edge of the phenomenon. Sensor range might not be increased by much, but I’ll take what I can get. Quarter impulse.” Picard ordered.

“Aye aye, captain.” Lieutenant Hawk replied and punched in the new course. “ETA twenty minutes.”

“Tactical, prepare to launch a class one sensory probe into the cloud.”

“It will most likely have the same limited range as our own sensors, captain. I doubt it could do more good then we can from here.” Riker commented.

“Yes, I realize that, but I’m more interested in what kind of an effect that cloud has on anything physical entering it.” The captain explained. He turned around to face tactical. “You may launch the probe when ready.”

“Probe away. It will enter the cloud in four minutes.”

A few silent minutes passed on the bridge, as the crew watched the tiny probe head for the golden cloud dominating the viewscreen. Then it passed through the outer layers of the gas and disappeared from sight altogether.

“Status?” Picard asked.

“No adverse effects on the probe. All systems working perfectly.” Data replied.

“What about the range? How deep into the cloud can the probe see?”

“The probe has a sensor radius of approximately forty kilometers, after that sensor resolution drops below twenty percent.”

“Forty kilometers? In relation to the size of a star system the probe is practically flying blind.” Riker said.

“Indeed, number one,” Picard agreed. “Data, how far in do you think we could send the probe before we lose contact with it?”

“No more then a few thousand kilometers, Sir. The disturbance seems to affect anything sub-space based, including communications.”

Picard stroked his chin, staring intently at the cloud in front of him. “Has the probe received any damage at all? Is it in any detectable danger?”

“No, sir. All the systems on it are operating at peak efficiency and the shields are registering no adverse effects.”

“Would the Enterprise be in any danger, if we took her into the cloud?”

“Judging by the probe, Sir, I would say no. And the Enterprise’s shields are more powerful, which would help keep out anything that could be construed as a danger. However the situation might change deeper in the cloud.”

“You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?” Geordi asked. “If we take the ship inside, we’ll be cut off from all outside contact. We’ll have no way to communicate with Starfleet and they’ll be unable to contact us.”

“That’s what I’m counting on. The disturbance will make sure that we go undetected by the Klingons and the Romulans. We’d be able to study this phenomenon and wait for the science vessels without running the risk of an interstellar incident.”

The bridge was silent for a moment as the captain weighed his options.

“If you’re looking for an opinion I say we go in.” Riker offered. “There’s nothing we can do from out here except antagonize the Klingons and Romulans.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. Go to yellow alert. Helmsman, maintain course speed and take us a few thousand kilometers into the anomaly, then come to a full stop.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Lieutenant Hawk replied.

It didn’t take long for the Enterprise to reach the outer edges of the gaseous field, and as the ship crossed the threshold, sliding into the anomaly, there was a moment of silence on the bridge. The view was quite spectacular, the yellow clouds were thick and glimmered like gold all around them. It almost looked like the Enterprise had entered some dream-world, a place where space looked more like the stuff of fantasies.

“Any change on our sensor scans?”

“Range has increased slightly, to about ten thousand kilometers, but apart from that they report the same.” Data replied.

“Begin making the sensor adjustments you mentioned earlier. We’ve got at least two days before the science vessels get here so let’s make use of that time. I’d like to be able to tell them we’ve made some headway into figuring out what this anomaly is and how it came to be here when they arrive.”

“Aye, captain.”

* * * *

Twenty-four hours of intense scanning and analysis later, Picard found himself in his quarters, reading through a report on the anomaly while listening to a soft melody that had been composed by some musician back on earth, before their species had even reached the stars. As it was, little or no progress towards understanding what had transpired in the Keltagar system had been made. Adjusting the sensory-systems on the Enterprise had proved fruitless. And the strange anomaly engulfing the entire system remained the mystery it had been when they first encountered it. In fact, there seemed to be more questions now then when they had first arrived.

Hopefully the science vessels will have better luck then we have had, Picard thought. They’d be arriving in no more then another day, and then the Enterprise could be on its way again.

Suddenly Picard’s comm-badge chirped. The captain quickly tapped it. “Picard here.”

“Captain, another vessel has just entered sensor range.” The voice of one of the men currently manning the bridge said.

“Another vessel? Has the science team arrived early?” He asked.

“No, the ship drifted into sensor range from inside the anomaly.”

“Inside the anomaly?” The captain echoed incredulously.

“Yes, captain. The vessel is of an unknown design and seems heavily damaged. But it’s hard to tell from this distance.”

“Set an intercept course for the vessel, I’ll be right there.” Picard said, terminating the comm line and got up from his comfortable position. What more surprises did this anomaly have in store for them, he wondered.

[Arcturus]

This is starting to get really good, hope to see more of this.

By the way, do stims really make people dangerous or is that something you stuck in?

[l33telboi]

Originally Posted by Arcturus

By the way, do stims really make people dangerous or is that something you stuck in?

The stims making people more agressive is in the manual:

"The newest versions of the Marine Powered Combat Suit and Firebat Heavy Combat Suit feature an in-field chemical delivery system filled with a powerful mixture of synthetic adrenaline and endorphins coupled with a powerful psychotropic aggression amplifier."

[Arcturus]

Originally Posted by l33telboi

The stims making people more agressive is in the manual:

"The newest versions of the Marine Powered Combat Suit and Firebat Heavy Combat Suit feature an in-field chemical delivery system filled with a powerful mixture of synthetic adrenaline and endorphins coupled with a powerful psychotropic aggression amplifier."

Oh right, thanks. Completely forgot about that.

[MrEmperor]

I'm liking this. Please continue.

[Satori]

"So what was so important as to merit a general alarm in the middle of the night at his base, rousing every single man and woman on base from their slumber? Morham could count the number of times general alarms had been sounded during his time at base. Something important was going on."

I get the impression you meant to say "could ount the number of times... on one hand" or something like that.

nice to see this back. I remember the last two iterations.

[grumpydonkey]

Good story so far.

[l33telboi]

Originally Posted by Satori

I get the impression you meant to say "could ount the number of times... on one hand" or something like that.

Yeah, sometimes these things kinda slip by without notice.

Thanks for noticing it.

[wellis]

Well it's good to see this story. What happened to the last two versions before this one?

[l33telboi]

Originally Posted by wellis

Well it's good to see this story. What happened to the last two versions before this one?

I wrote some, then decided I wanted to change things and started over.

[l33telboi]

Chapter 5: Strangers and Mysteries

“Report.” Picard demanded as he walked out onto the bridge. Looking around he saw that Data and Troi were the only two other senior officers on the bridge at the moment. Data probably having been there twenty-four hours straight, trying to figure out a way to scan inside the anomaly. There were some upsides to be being an android, such as not needing to sleep or rest.

“We matched velocity with the foreign vessel and are holding at about eight-hundred meters from it, sir.” The crewman working at the helm replied just as Picard sat down in his chair.

“On screen.”

The viewscreen changed to display an image of the pieces of a small and crude looking vessel slowly tumbling aimlessly in the yellow mist of the anomaly. It was clearly in bad shape, the captain didn’t need sensors to realize that much. It looked like the ship had been torn in half.

“I am detecting multiple hull-breaches all along the length of the ship, captain. There are no intact or pressurized compartments on it.” Data said, reading the console in front of him.

“Lifesigns?” Picard asked, though he realized the lack of any lifesupport made the prospect of finding survivors slim at best.

Data tapped a few controls. “There appears to be three faint lifesigns,” he said, much to the captain’s surprise. “One is coming from the forward section of the vessel, another from the rear compartment and a third from outside the vessel.”

“From outside the vessel?” Picard echoed skeptically. “Focus the viewscreen on that lifesign.”

Data adjusted the visual sensors to center on the piece of debris that the computer had interpreted as a lifesign. As the view magnified and focused, the fragment was revealed to be a humanoid encased in what looked like a bulky spacesuit of some sort.

Picard realized that it would be impossible for the sensors to determine the exact status of these survivors without knowing what specific species they were, but sensors based on technology weren’t all he had at his disposal. “Councilor, can you sense anything from the survivors? Are they conscious? In pain?”

The telepath focused her attention on the strange vessel, trying to gather whatever useful information she could from the beings out there. “I think they’re unconscious, captain. I can’t feel anything more then slight presence from them. They’re definitely alive, but that’s all I can say for sure.”

Picard fixed his gaze on the tumbling tin man on the viewscreen. Protocol dictated that they assist these people, and indeed the captain wouldn’t have it any other way. But there were still dangers involved. What if these survivors suddenly came too and panicked while on the Enterprise? It wouldn’t have been the first time something like that happened.

“Data, can you get a transporter lock on all three lifesigns even with the interference from the anomaly?”

“At this distance I believe I can. I will have to boost the transporter system signal but it will take no more then a few seconds.”

“Good, beam the survivors directly to sickbay and assign a security detail to keep watch.” The captain ordered while tapping the controls on the armrest of his chair, opening a comm link to sickbay.

“Aye, sir.” Data replied and got to work.

There was a faint chime, signaling the captain that the link to the sickbay had been established. “Doctor, you’re about to receive three new patients.”

“Patients?” Crusher asked, wondering what had gone wrong.

“Yes, it appears as if we’ve stumbled upon a group of survivors from an accident of some sort. They seem to be in need of medical assistance so we’re beaming them directly to sickbay. Can you accommodate them?”

“Well, yes. But aliens? Where did they-“ The doctor started asking, but was quickly cut off.

“I’ll be joining you shortly to explain everything, just see what you can do to stabilize their condition until I get there. Picard out.” The captain severed the comm link. He knew it was a bit abrupt, but there was no time to waste.

Out of all the things the captain thought could possibly happen during this strange mission, he hadn’t anticipated running across another ship inside the anomaly. Indeed it was practically a miracle that they had spotted the vessel in the first place, considering the short scanning range his vessel was capable of inside this gaseous phenomenon.

“I have a transporter lock on the survivors now, captain.” Data said, having finished his adjustments.

“Energize.”

As the android initiated the transport, Picard got up from his seat and started for the turbo-lift, anxious to see who - and what - they were beaming over.

* * * *

By the time captain Picard got to the sickbay, Dr. Crusher and the medical staff were already busy examining the survivors.

A complement of four security officers with phaser pistols holstered at their sides were standing against the far wall, keeping watch and trying not to get in the way of the medical crew and their work. Picard had wanted them there just in case the survivors had still been conscious as they were beamed over. Being on a broken vessel and then suddenly appearing on an alien starship surrounded by unfamiliar faces could be a little disgruntling, and it wouldn’t have been the first time transported people put up a fight in their frightened state.

But as it was, all three survivors were lying unconscious on their respective biobeds. Or at least they appeared to be out cold. In truth it was rather difficult to tell. One of the aliens was still clad in its spacesuit and the medical staff was trying to pry the bulky thing open, having little success. The second one was almost naked though, and clearly unresponsive. Picard also curiously noted that it appeared to be of a species he had never encountered before. But the third one, much to the captain’s surprise, was definitely human. Crusher had been able to remove the strange headgear he had worn and underneath was the face of a very pale, human male.

What was a human doing out here? And why was he accompanied by a previously unknown alien species? Picard wondered.

“We’re going to need fusion torches to cut through this one’s suit.” One of the medical officers said, as he realized he wouldn’t be getting the thing open from the outside in any other way.

Picard walked over to Dr. Crusher, who was in the process of scanning the scantily clad alien with a medical tricorder, probably trying to determine what condition it was in. It was a strange species indeed, the captain noted as he looked down on its limp body. The overwhelming majority of sentient species was humanoid, and resembled humans quite closely. Obviously there were also races that were very different from humans, but those were generally a lot rarer. And this alien clearly belonged to the latter category. It had a scaly grey skin that was similar to that of the Jem’Hadar’s, and the head was roughly the same form and shape as theirs too. Sharp ridges and flat surfaces, though perhaps a bit thinner then that of the Dominion soldiers. But the rest of the alien was nothing like the Jem’Hadar. It had no mouth, no ears and no nose, at least none that the captain could see. And it had a very lanky looking body with legs that were reverse-jointed. It was clad in some tattered rags and looked to be in quite a bad shape on the outside.

“Have you been able to determine what their conditions are?” Picard asked and looked over to the doctor who was still fiddling around with her tricorder.

“For the most part, yes, I think so. That one,” the doctor said, pointing to the pale human. “Has a mild concussion but is otherwise in good condition, he just needs a little rest. I gave him some sedatives so he won’t wake up before his body has had some time to recover properly.” She explained. “But this one,” she said and nodded at the gray scaled alien lying on the bed in front of them. “This one has an anatomy quite unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, so it’s impossible to say for sure if it’s alright. But if I had to guess, I’d say it’s no worse off then the human there, except for a few more bruises and cuts. I haven’t given it any sedatives though, as it already had a lot of them running through its system.”

“It was already sedated?” Picard asked a bit surprised.

“Yes, quite heavily too.”

“Strange.” Picard commented, but quickly moved on to ask about the third and last survivor. “What about that one, the one in the spacesuit?” He could see that the medical crew was currently doing their best to cut him loose from his suit, using fusion torches to try and crack it open.

“He’s hit his head pretty badly and has probably been unconscious for quite a while already, but it’s nothing I can’t fix.” Crusher said.

“…just as soon as we can get him out of this damned suit.” One of the men currently holding a torch added with a frown.

“Oh, and it might surprise you to know that he’s human too.” Crusher added.

“Another human?”

“It would seem so.”

To say the captain was perplexed at this point would’ve been an understatement. What had the ship been doing out here? Was it a civilian ship from some nearby colony that had wanted to investigate the anomaly on their own? But why would anyone be foolish enough to do something as dangerous as that, especially in the neutral space between the Federation, the Klingon and the Romulan factions? It would’ve been like an open invitation to get captured and submitted to some rather harsh treatment. And the vessel itself bore no resemblance to any Starfleet ships Picard had ever encountered, and was drastically different from most civilian designs he had seen as well. And the gear they were carrying was just as odd. And last but not least, how did the strange alien fit into all this?

There were enough questions here to keep the captain occupied for the rest of the week.

“Well, since it seems they are all unconscious for the moment, I gather I won’t be getting any answers on how they got here and what they were doing just yet.” Picard surmised, still eyeing the three unconscious strangers, a bit intrigued. “Beverly, do what you have to do to stabilize them and insure their safety, then run a full physical examination. Look for any clues that could tell us where they’re from. I expect a report as soon as possible.”

“As you wish, Jean-Luc.” Beverly said and went back to her scanning.

“I’ll leave the security detachment here until they wake up, just to be sure. Oh and I think it’s best if you send all that equipment over to Geordi as soon as you can,” Picard continued, indicating the suits and various other gear the survivors had been carrying on themselves as they had been beamed over. “He might also be able to shed some light on where our guests come from, by examining the equipment.”

* * * *

Not long after the strangers had been picked up and brought on-board the Enterprise, they became the hot topic of discussion amongst the crew. Rumors and speculation about their origins started spreading throughout the ship and it seemed as if everyone had their own theory as to what the broken vessel had been doing in the anomaly and where the humans were really from.

While the rest of the crew went on with their speculation and theorizing, chief engineer Geordi LaForge and team of engineers had been tasked with figuring out the truth behind the strange vessel and the survivors. But what they had found so far was far from enlightening, rather the opposite.

More detailed scans and analysis of the derelict vessel had revealed it was more alien then it initially had appeared. It used an outdated and inefficient fusion reactor and the propulsion system was a simple plasma drive without mass-lightening technology to boost accelerations, almost as if the people designing it hadn’t even had access to some of the most basic technologies the Federation employed. The markings on it as well as the serial number were equally puzzling, as no match for them could be found in the Enterprise’s database. But the strangest thing of all had to be what Geordi had deduced was the faster-then-light drive on the vessel; it was like nothing he had ever seen before and bore no resemblance to normal warp drive.

Meanwhile, Picard had attempted to make contact with Starfleet to inform them of this new turn of events. He hadn’t dared exit the nebula for fear that either the Klingons or Romulans might detect the ship though, so instead he’d sent a small probe to act as a relay between him and Starfleet HQ. He was currently sitting at his ready-room desk, conversing with the admiral that had contacted him earlier.

“Is there anything else you’ve been able to deduce in regards to the ship?” The admiral asked, having already been debriefed on the Enterprises initial findings in regards to both the anomaly and the strange vessel.

“Not yet. But we’re hoping the survivors might shed some light on all this once they wake up.” Picard replied, holding a cup of his favorite earl gray tea.

“Good, keep me informed on any progress on that front.” Then the admiral’s visage changed to become a little darker, and Picard realized there was something more he had to say. Probably something the captain wouldn’t like. “In the meantime I have some bad news.” The admiral expectedly added.

“Oh?” Picard took a sip from his tea.

“The science vessels I promised to send have met with a slight diplomatic hiccup. Both the Klingon and Romulan empires object to them entering the system to analyze the anomaly.”

“On what grounds? They’re civilian ships and wouldn’t be able to threaten either Klingons or Romulans. It’s not like they have free reign over neutral space.” Picard said, slightly agitated. The backup he had been expecting wasn’t going to arrive any time soon.

“They’re trying every trick in the book. They and we both know that they have no valid case here, though, so all they’re trying to do is clog the bureaucracy to win some time. It’s all about information control. Everything they know that we don’t is something in their favor. Of course the Federation immediately objected to Klingons and Romulans analyzing the anomaly as well, but I doubt that will do us any good.”

“They are just going to warp in with cloak-capable vessels and study the anomaly at their leisure anyway, without the Federation knowing about it.”

“That’s what we figured as well. But we do have one ace in the hold – you, captain. They don’t know about you yet, and if we play our cards right, they never will.”

“I suppose that means we’ll have to stay here a bit longer. Any idea on how long?”

“Just until we’ve managed to sort things out with our neighbors, a few weeks at the most. They can’t hold us from entering neutral space forever. Until then keep trying to figure out the anomaly. The information could prove invaluable.”

“Will do, admiral.”

“Good, I suggest we keep these communications as brief and few as possible, to minimize the risk of detection. Contact me again if you find something important. Admiral Crozier out.”

The screen in front of Picard went black again, and the captain slumped back in his chair, deep in thought.

* * * *

In engineering, Geordi sat at his desk, peering over a number of different objects that had been beamed over with the survivors and then brought there for study. He was just putting the finishing touches to the report he was going to give the captain, and only needed to give everything one final overlook, to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. He now knew that the things were weapons and combat suits, though to be honest, that much he had already guessed just by looking at them when he was first ordered to figure out what they did.

They were no less strange then the broken vessel floating around outside though. The biggest of the weapons he had deduced to be a coilgun, a weapon that used a number of electromagnetic coils to propel solid metal slugs to about two kilometers per second. In effect it was much like the older slugthrowers that had been used back on earth before energy weaponry was invented, however it had a lot more punch behind it. It wasn’t nearly as sophisticated as phasers or other similar energy weapons currently used in the alpha quadrant though, which left the uneasy question of why they were being used in the first place. The user could’ve just bought a phaser instead.

Geordi’s attention fixed on the second weapon lying there on the counter. He lifted it, feeling the weight and balance. Unlike the last weapon, this one was a lot less bulky. It was light and small enough to be carried by a normal human even. Not fired though, as the recoil would kick a normal man to the floor. The chief engineer had deduced that this weapon came from a similar technological base as the last one. It too was a coilgun. But it fired canisters of high-explosives instead of armor-piercing spikes. The force behind the weapon was enough to equal a phaser on some the higher settings. He placed the rifle back down on the counter and moved to the next weapon.

This one hadn’t been in the possession of the strangers when they were beamed aboard, however. Data had located it on one of his latter scans of the broken vessel, picking up the tell-tale signs of an object carrying antimatter. This weapon was both more advanced then the two former weapons, as well as showed a very different design aesthetic, looking more like a piece of art then a weapon meant to kill. The science that had gone into making it was beyond even that of Starfleet, as Geordi still hadn’t understood its function fully. He surmised however, that the weapon actually built small guided projectiles housing no more then a few hundred nanograms of antimatter, and then launched them at the enemy. As such it was tremendously destructive.

Geordi walked over to a rack currently holding the two suits the strangers had been wearing. These two were clearly from the same technological base as the more primitive weapons, and signs pointed to the fact that they were even designed to work in conjunction with those weapons.

The larger suit was for instance a piece of powered armor, designed to afford the wearer increased strength in the form of mechanized systems augmenting the natural movement of the body. This meant that someone wearing the suit could easily have been strong enough to carry around the larger of the two rifles around, and the added mass of the suit would help with the recoil. The suit also featured a number of sensory-systems to enhance the wearer’s awareness, but Geordi hadn’t examined those bits that carefully, given that he didn’t fully understand the suit yet. He didn’t want to trigger some self-destruct system or anything by mistake.

The smaller of the two suits was more of an unknown then the first. On the surface it looked like nothing more then a black skintight suit, but running throughout its fabric Geordi had found sensitive electronics and other systems he couldn’t quite figure out.

Geordi was roused from his thoughts by the sounds of a team of security guards rushing past the doorway. Looking up the chief engineer saw that Worf was among them, and in quite a bit of a hurry.

“That’s odd,” Geordi said to himself, slightly curious. “Computer, where’s the security team headed?”

“There’s been a disturbance in the medical bay. The security team has been dispatched to assist.” Came the methodical reply.

The medical bay? Geordi thought and immediately realized the problem. The strangers had awoken, and given the security team they’d probably put of something of a fight.

[Arcturus]

Awesome. I wonder who woke up?

Five bucks says its the Protoss.

[Brellin]

That...would suck, considering that the protoss in question happened to be a High Templar...yeah, suck indeed.

[Pewter]

If my memory serves me right, it's the marine then the ghost, then.....

Which leads me to question, why didn't you use your old thread?

[l33telboi]

Originally Posted by Pewter

Which leads me to question, why didn't you use your old thread?

The chapter sizes and arrangement is different, and the old thread is clogged with comments on things that wouldn't even exist in this version of the story. It'd all turn into a confusing mess. So I thought a new thread was in order.

[l33telboi]

l33telboi says:

Bet you didn't think you'd ever see this again, huh? You were wrong! Hah! In any case, the restart comes with a few changes. The first among those is a small section called 'l33telboi says' that will precede every chapter henceforth. Here I'll mention stuff that's related to the story and babble on for no real reason.

You might've noticed that I changed writing style. I used to write in a style that jumped point-of-view quite often. First you'd hear what Morham thinks, then you'd hear what Picard thinks, etc. But now I write from one point-of-view exclusively and only change when the story jumps forward. It makes it easier to write and above all else - a lot more fun.

Having said that, this was probably the worst chapter to write so far. The Feddies and Confeddies meeting for the first times requires a lot of exposition, and oh god do I hate writing stuff like that. In addition to that I had first written this chapter in the multi-POV, and then had to re-write it in single-POV style. But it's behind me now, and I can continue writing more interesting chapters.

Questions/Comments are welcomed.


Chapter 6: Unanswered Questions

Worf had been growing increasingly anxious ever since the Enterprise had started its return trip from the klingon homeworld. His mission had been to assist in the diplomatic talks and act as a mediator between the Federation and the klingons, and when that was over he had found himself with little to do.

Luckily enough captain Picard had realized the problem and temporarily assigned the klingon to security, alleviating some of Worf’s restlessness. And as it was it didn’t take long before Worf would get his first noteworthy task.

A hurried transmission from the sickbay informed him that one of the survivors had woken and that he was creating something of a situation. Worf, along with a four security officers, immediately rushed to see what the commotion was all about. The request for security was somewhat disgruntling since there had already been a security team stationed in the sickbay. Either they needed reinforcements or they were already down, and neither of those scenarios promised anything good.

The first thing to cross Worf’s path as he and his men cautiously entered the sickbay, phasers at the ready, was one of the security officers. He was lying face down on the floor with blood seeping from his nose. Worf bent down to check his vital signs and noticed to his relief that the man was merely unconscious.

The second thing to hit them as they made their way further into the bay were the sounds of grunting and shouting. They couldn’t see the source of the noise yet, however. Worf motioned for his men to spread out and take up defensive positions as he himself slowly approached the source of the racket to take a closer look.

He glanced around the corner and could see the three other guards. They were all alive and conscious, but quite busy wrestling with the bald headed human from the shipwreck, the one that had been wearing the powered armor.

It would seem that he hadn’t taken kindly to waking up in a strange bed.

The klingon watched for a moment as the guards did their best to restrain the man, but they were having little luck. It almost looked like the survivor was the one doing the restraining instead of the other way around. He was holding one of the guards in a chokehold while trying to push the others away from himself. It wasn’t especially surprising that he was this successful at fending off the others, Worf thought, as the stranger was nearly a head taller then the others and had a lot more mass on himself.

Doctor Crusher was there too, circling the group, shouting and trying to get them all to calm down. But she seemed to be having about as much success as the guards were. She had a hypo-spray in her hand, probably filled with a sedative, but she couldn’t get close enough to use it as the survivor was continuously positioning the guard he had in a chokehold between himself and her, using the guard as a human shield of sorts.

Worf signaled for his men to advance, just as he himself stepped out from behind the corner, holding his phaser pointed at the struggling brute. “Let the man go, or I will be forced to stun you.” He said as sternly and clearly as he could.

The others that had been with Worf spread out around the room, all with their phasers pointed at the recently awoken stranger. There was no real chance of hurting anyone with the pistols being set on stun, but in the more civilized parts of space it was still considered polite to ask someone to give up before shooting.

The stranger was clearly startled by the sudden appearance of more people, and he didn’t seem to understand what Worf had just told him. In fact he was looking at Worf with something that looked like a mix of anger and bewilderment. The feral man watched the klingon for a while, still hugging the guard tightly against him.

The pistols pointed at him were pretty self-explanatory though, and he probably realized that he didn’t really have a choice in what to do next, because he let go of the nearly strangled Starfleet officer, raising his hands into the air in a sign of surrender.

The nearly strangled guard lurched away, massaging his throat and trying to catch his breath.

Worf tapped the com badge on his chest, opening a connection to the captain. “Worf to captain Picard, the source of the disturbance has been located and things have calmed down.”

“I’m on my way down there right now.” Came an immediate reply. “What was the problem?”

“It seems one of our guests was a bit startled when he woke up, sir.” Worf replied. “He’s calm for now but doesn’t appear to understand what I’m saying.”

“I’ll be there shortly. Keep things under control until then. Picard out.”

A tense moment of silence passed as everyone in the room silently watched each other while waiting for the captain to arrive, and then finally the door to the hallway slid open, revealing the captain, who wore a suitably serious expression on his face. Deanna Troi was there with him.

Picard took a look around the room, seeing the guard lying on the floor and the other one who was still rubbing his throat and breathing in gasps. “I suppose it’s a good thing no one got more hurt then they did.” He finally said. “Check on him, will you, Beverly?” He said, nodding towards the unconscious guard.

Crusher hurried over to the decked officer, moving her medical tricorder over him. “He took a pretty heavy blow to the head but he’s going to be fine, captain. Nothing a little rest won’t fix.”

“Some good news, at least.” Picard said and turned his attention back to the source of the disturbance, the recently awoken survivor. “You said he can’t understand us?”

“If he can he’s certainly hiding it well.” Crusher replied.

“I advice caution, captain.” Troi said. “I can’t feel any hostile feelings or desire to harm us in him, but he is confused and scared. He will hurt you if he feels he has no other choice.”

The captain nodded. “Lower your weapons, all of you. Worf, adjust the sickbay computer to translate everything that’s said in this room?”


“Aye, sir.” The klingon said and moved over to the nearest computer terminal. Programming the computer to translate all speech in the room automatically was a simple process, requiring nothing but a few taps on the LCARS display. “Done.”

Picard nodded. “My name is Jean-Luc Picard and I’m the Captain of the USS Enterprise, the starship you’re on right now.” He said, waiting to see how the stranger would respond.

The man just looked the captain up and down, as if he was scrutinizing every detail on him, deciding on whether he could be trusted or not. It was clear that he wasn’t going to lower his guard just because Picard decided to smile and talk in a non-threatening manner though.

“The uniforms you’re all wearing, they’re not Confederate. And neither is this like any Confederate ship I’ve ever been on before.” He finally said.

“This ship and its crew are part of the United Federation of Planets.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.” The stranger replied flatly.

Worf was a bit surprised. Practically everyone in the alpha quadrant knew of the Federation. To find a human who didn’t know of it seemed very unlikely. But then again, not much of anything made sense in regards to the survivors.

“Well, I don’t believe I’m familiar with this Confederacy you mentioned either.” Picard said, and it was clear that this was going to be more difficult then he had expected. “So… Since I’m not sure what this Confederacy of yours is, and apparently you know nothing about the Federation, I suggest we get to know one another a bit better. Rest assured we will get to the bottom of all this, still… I would very much like to start by knowing who I’m talking too first.”

“Morham,” the stranger replied after a moment. “I’m sergeant Chris Morham, a marine in service of the terran Confederacy.”

“Pleased to meet you. And please, you can put down your hands, I assure you we mean you no harm.”

The Confederate soldier did so, obviously still a bit suspicious about what was going on, though perhaps a bit more at ease. “How did I get here?” He asked, looking around the sickbay.

“We found your ship badly damaged and adrift inside this spatial phenomenon. You and your companions were injured so we brought you onboard to treat you.” The captain explained.

Morham made very few indications as to what he was thinking or feeling. “Where are the others? There were dozens on that transport.”

“I’m afraid the rest were all dead by the time we got to your ship.” Doctor Crusher answered before Picard was able to. “They weren’t inside sealed suits like yours when the hull was breached. If it’s of any comfort, their deaths were quick and painless.”

“What about those two? Are they alright?” He asked, nodding towards the other human survivor and the alien.

“Never better!” The supposedly unconscious man answered as he sat up, much to the surprise of everyone in the room. “You really should be a little less suspicious of other people, my dear sergeant. They’re telling you the truth, you know.”

Worf jerked with a start, barely managing to restrain himself from pulling out his phaser again.

“I’m sorry for the deception, captain, I needed to know who and what your intentions are. Waking up on a ship that doesn’t belong to the Confederacy usually means things have gone… less then well. And there’s no such thing as being too careful. But of course, as I’ve discovered, there’s no real threat here.”

Worf discretely walked over to the nearest medical terminal to recheck the readings coming from the monitoring equipment still hooked up to the newly awakened man. They still reported him as unconscious. “Captain-“ He started, wanting to inform Picard of this, but was quickly cut off.

“No need to be alarmed, your equipment is working just fine, and so am I. The readings are just the result of a neat little trick I was taught once. Oh, and I’m Resnick by the way, now that we’re introducing ourselves and all.”

The man jumped out of his bed to stand beside Morham, removing the last cords attached to his body as he did.

“I believe he has some telepathic abilities, captain. I could feel something from him earlier, but I wasn’t quite sure what.” Troi said.

“Telepathic? Yes.” The man replied, looking at the woman with a surprised look on his face. “I take it that you are as well? You feel… very odd for someone with telepathic abilities.” He said, turning back to Picard. “In any case, like I said earlier, I hope you can forgive my telepathic intrusion, captain. It really was the only way I could know for sure if me and my friend here was in danger.” He explained, placing his hand on Morham’s shoulder.

“Under the circumstances I’m not sure I’d be in any position not to forgive you. But let’s just keep the conversation audible from now on.”

“Consider it done, captain! And now that we’re done with the pleasantries and the introductions, I’d like to apologize for my friend here. He can be a bit simple at times, treating threatening situations like an ape would. You know, smash and bash, that sort of thing.” He said, looking over at Morham with a grin on his face.

The insult seemed strange to Worf.

“Yes, well, if you don’t mind, I have a few questions for you,” The captain started, probably hoping to change the topic before they had another brawl on their hands. “And I imagine you would like to have some of your questions answered in return.”

“Questions are fine, but there’s one thing I’d like to sort out first.” Resnick said, nodding towards the gray skinned alien still lying on its biobed.

“Ah, yes, we weren’t quite sure what to make of that one. We’ve never encountered its species before, but according to the doctor it seems to be recuperating.”

“It’s dangerous, captain. Very dangerous.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“It and its kind attacked one of our colony worlds not long ago - burned the entire planet from orbit and killed every single living thing on it. There was no warning or explanation for what they did. They simply attacked. The one lying over there killed five marines before we managed to subdue it. And I’d bet good money that it’s not going to see the difference between you and me once it wakes up again.”

“I see.” Picard said. “That explains why it had tranquilizers running through its system when we found it, and why its equipment is so different from yours.”

“Yes, we were in the middle of transporting him to a more secure location when our transport ran into… whatever this anomaly, as you called it, is.”

The quarrel between these strange humans and the alien species was none of the Federation’s business, but the fact remained that if it woke up surrounded by humans, it might, and likely would, lash out at them not knowing that they’re not the same. If it even cared whether they belonged to the same organization or not. Worf knew that the only option Picard really had was to confine the creature, but he also knew the captain wouldn’t like the political aspects of locking up a member of a species that hadn’t been seen before.

“Erect a level five force-field around his bed until he wakes up.” Picard ordered.

Worf did as requested and not long after the air around the alien and its bed shimmered briefly as the force-field was set in place, boxing in the strange creature a solidly as a steel cage would. The Klingon noted that the two recently awoken strangers were a bit surprised at the forcefield, with the larger one even taking a few steps from it. Apparently forcefields weren’t all that common where they came from.

“You’re keeping it here?” Resnick asked.

“Yes,” Picard replied. “There’s no need to worry, the forcefield will keep it secured, and I’ll leave a security detachment here to keep an eye on things until it finally wakes up. It won’t be able to do any harm before we’ve had a chance to talk to it.”

“I don’t think you fully understand the danger this creature poses to you. A forcefield won’t hold it. Like me, it has psionic abilities. Abilities that allow it to kill people with a mere thought. I saw it do this to the marines it slaughtered. And that thought will pass through that energy field of yours as if it wasn’t even there. I know this because I can feel the creature with my senses even as we speak. And to be frank, leaving a security detachment here to greet is isn’t all that comforting a thought.”

Worf didn’t particularly like that last little jab the man had taken at his security team. But then again he could hardly blame him. Things really hadn’t gone well once the first stranger had awoken.

“What would you suggest we do then?” Picard asked.

“Keep it somewhere where it can’t see others. That’s the only way to prevent it from harming the first person it lays eyes on. And even then I’m not sure about it, it would be best to have something that can disable it as soon as it wakes up again close by.”

“Alright,” Picard said and nodded. “Place the alien in the brig for the time being, have everyone normally in that area vacate the premises and keep the alien under camera surveillance only. And make sure the prisoner disabling systems in the cell are operational.”

“Aye, sir.” Worf replied, then turned around and got to work.

“I trust that these are sufficient precautions?”

“I’m no expert, of course, but I’d think so.”

“Right,” The captain said, clasping his hands in front of him enthusiastically. “Now that we have that tragic matter behind us, there are still a lot questions that need answering. Doctor, do you think it’d be safe for these two to attend a meeting in the conference room once you’re done with your tests?”

“There’s no medical reason why they wouldn’t be able to do so. But I’d rather ask them if I were you. I’m in no position to tell them what to do.”

But Resnick replied before Picard had a chance to do so. “We would love to join you in the conference room, captain. After all, we probably have as many questions as you do.” He smiled.

“Excellent. Then I’ll give you some time to freshen up and prepare. I’ll have Worf escort you there, in, say… two hours?” Picard asked.

“Sounds perfect.” Resnick replied.

“Then it’s settled, I’ll meet you there. Until then I’ll leave you in the very capable hands of Doctor Crusher. If there’s anything you want or need, feel free to ask her.”

* * * *

Two hours later, the conference room was filled with thoughtful faces. All of the Enterprise’s senior officers were there, seated around the large oval table at the center of the room, anxiously waiting for the strangers to arrive.

The purpose of this gathering was for the strangers and the crew to learn more about each other and to finally find some answers to all the questions regarding their accidental run-in they had with each other in the anomaly.

As strange as it may have sounded, Picard was fully aware that this might be a very real first contact situation with another fully independent human civilization. Certainly the fact that they didn’t recognize the Federation and that he himself didn’t know what the Confederacy was suggested as much. Of course, it wasn’t unheard of for previously uncharted human colonies to crop up. In fact, it had happened on a number of occasions even before this. But something told the captain that this wouldn’t quite like those other confrontations.

Picard gazed out trough the viewports lining the wall to his right, at the yellow clouds that drifted lazily by as the vessel made its way ever deeper into the anomaly. He found the view calmed his thoughts somewhat. The patterns and colors of the swirling haze eerily soothing.

Then, at last, the doors to the briefing room slid open to reveal doctor Crusher and the two strangers. A duo of armed security officers escorted them and took up positions near the door after they had entered. Picard wasn’t usually so suspicious of his guests that he had security looking over their shoulders at a meeting such as this one. But the recent threat of war with the Dominion had changed a great deal in the Federation – even first contact and diplomatic protocols.

The eyes of all the officers sitting at the table moved to follow the strange entourage as they made their way into the room. The larger one of the pair seemed to regard Worf for some time. Picard guessed that he was unfamiliar with klingon species, or then there was perhaps some lingering animosity after their encounter in the sickbay.

To Picard, the two guests seemed very different from each other. Morham was a huge man, with broad shoulders and a cleanly shaved head – he bore the look of a soldier. He had to admit that the man seemed a little less animal and a little more man now that he was clothed and had a less bewildered look on his face, though.

Resnick, in stark contrast to Morham, was much leaner and seemed a lot more controlled in his movements. He wasn’t scrawny by any standard, his physique just seemed to display more agility then strength. There was a very odd duality about him too. His body language and the smile on his face told of someone you wanted to like. But the eyes seemed… different. Disconnected somehow.

Captain Picard got up from his seat to welcome the two, and then guided them to a pair of empty chairs next to him. He then proceeded to introduce everyone to each other.

Then it was finally down to business.

Picard clasped his hands and leaded forward in his char. “During our brief encounter in the sickbay there was one thing I noticed, something that stood out even among all the other strangeness, and that was the fact that it seemed as if you didn’t recognize the United Federation of Planets when it was mentioned. This strikes me as a little odd since most humans, and even Earth, is part of this organization. Even those that don’t count themselves as members of the Federation know about it. So, I thought that as a sign of good faith, I would start by introducing our organization, and then we can take it from there.” He explained, putting on his best diplomatic charm. He couldn’t help but notice how the two men reacted when Earth was mentioned however. Obviously the name of the human homeworld was known to them.

“Suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Morham said, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms in front of him. Trying to appear as if he was on top of things. Resnick eyed the private briefly and gave a slight chuckle.

Picard got up from his seat and walked over to a large display on the wall behind him. He tapped a few controls and the view changed from the insignia of the Federation to a starchart of the Alpha, and even parts of the Beta quadrants, of the Milky Way galaxy. A large portion of the view was dominated by a field colored a deep blue. Picard explained that it signified the territory that the Federation occupied and then went on to explain the basic tenets of said organization, their anti-capitalistic philosophies, their peace above all else mentality and pretty much every ideal the Federation stood for.

Picard then further explained that the Federation was comprised of many different planets and races, all living as equals. Morham and Resnick learned about the basic governmental structure and even what role Starfleet played in it all. By the end the two survivors were visibly more then a little stunned by everything that had been said.

“Captain, there’s one thing I was wondering.” Resnick said after having studied the starchart for a while.

“Go ahead.”

“I noticed something rather peculiar on the map, when it showed the entire galaxy.” The man continued. “Would you mind zooming it out again?”

Picard tapped a few controls and the screen now showed the entire galaxy again. It was split into four segments labeled the alpha, beta, gamma and delta quadrants.

“Up there, in what you’ve labeled the gamma-quadrant, what does that orange field signify?”

“Ah, I was going to mention that a bit later on.” Picard said, looking a bit troubled. He was pondering just how he was going to explain this somewhat sensitive topic to the strangers. “The field represents the Dominion and the territory they’ve claimed. It’s a faction that has caused the Federation quite a lot of trouble lately…” He stopped again briefly. “In fact, it’s very likely we’re headed for war with each other in the near future, unless we can find some diplomatic resolution.”

“I thought you just said the Federation valued peace above all else?” Morham asked and cocked an eyebrow.

“The Federation does,” Riker interjected. “And if we’d have any other alternative in the matter, we would gladly take it. But it seems the Dominion doesn’t quite see eye to eye with us on matters regarding peace.”

“So they’re the aggressors? What reason would they have to antagonize the Federation, if indeed it’s as peaceful and non-threatening as you’ve explained?” Resnick asked.

Picard thought he could hear the faint traces of mock-seriousness when the man mentioned the peacefulness of the Federation. Apparently he wasn’t quite convinced of the Federation’s good intentions.

“It’s a somewhat complicated matter and I’m not quite sure how to explain it all without going into too much detail. But the short version of it is that the Dominion is an organization dedicated to bringing peace and stability to all the races it comes into contact with. Very much like the Federation. But unlike us, they believe in peace and stability through military dominance and conquest. If everyone serves one organization, there would be no wars.”

“It’s ironic that the Federation and the Dominion are driven to war with each other, even though we ultimately share the same goal.” Councilor Troi added.

“I see,” Resnick said, apparently still a little doubtful about the good intents of the Federation. “Well, in any case, the reason I asked is because the Koprulu sector, and the homeworlds of the Confederacy, occupy an area almost a hundred lightyears in diameter within what’s supposedly Dominion space. But we’ve never once heard of them. We haven’t even met any other species except for the ones that recently attacked us.”

“Out of curiosity, do you think you could pinpoint the exact location of the Koprulu sector on the starchart?” Data asked.

“I think so,” Resnick said. “If I may?” He asked Picard, who motioned for the man to do so.

Resnick got up and walked over to the screen. “Let’s see now, if I remember the position of Earth from the history books correctly, then the Koprulu sector should be…” He mumbled as he traced the starmap with his finger. “Here. Roughly twenty lightyears from the central horizontal plane of the galaxy.” He finally said, circling a small area within Dominion space.

“I believe you must be mistaken.” Data said matter-of-factly. “Before our contact with the Dominion, we made several surveys into that area and made contact with several of the local species living there. They were all unfamiliar with the human species, and it is doubtful that your worlds could have gone undetected for so long.”

“Well, I’m sure this is the location. The nebula here,” Resnick continued and pointed to a tiny greenish cloud on the map. “Confirms it. We call it the Nebander nebula. And maybe we haven’t remained undetected? Maybe these aliens that attacked us are part of the Dominion?”

Picard recalled his reaction when he had first seen the alien the strangers had brought with them. It did have visual similarities with the Jem’Hadar. But all in all, they had more differences then similarities overall. Even Crusher had confirmed that the two species had nothing in common except a vaguely similar shaped and colored head. That didn’t mean the alien they had with them couldn’t be part of the Dominion though.

“I suppose that is possible. But it seems highly unlikely given our current knowledge of the Dominion and the species they make use of.” Data replied. “Any species within their territory is usually conquered without delay. And their methods so far have not included outright destruction, but subjugation.”

“Well, whatever the case might be, I’d like to know how exactly your people got there in the first place. Traveling over sixty-thousand lightyears would take decades with warp-drive.” Picard said.

“Well it did take nearly thirty years, it wasn’t like a weekend trip to the other side of the galaxy or anything. I would’ve thought that the UPL and their colonization efforts would’ve been widely known. From what I’ve understood, it was lauded as humanity’s greatest hope for continued survival and expansion back when the colonization effort was launched.”

Picard, who prided himself with knowing history quite well, didn’t recall anything like this however, so he looked to Data for answers. If anyone would know anything about this, then it would be the android with his nearly encyclopedic memory.

“I have no knowledge of either a faction referred to as the UPL or any colonization effort they would have undertaken, sir.” He stated bluntly.

“You’re kidding, right? Even I know about the United Powers League and I’m no history buff. Heck, their unification of Earth and purification operations were some of the biggest events in human history.” Morham said. “Or so my teacher kept telling me.”

Picard looked over at Data again. But the android just shrugged, he had no idea what the Confederates were talking about.

“Perhaps we should start from the beginning, then. Maybe if you explained to us exactly what the Confederacy is things might clear up? Why don’t you start by telling us how you remember history, and perhaps where this United Powers League comes in.”

The strangers were happy to oblige. But for the most part it was Resnick doing the talking, as Morham apparently hadn’t ever really been interested in any of the history that didn’t involve the Koprulu sector.

The few things Resnick told from the ancient history of Earth seemed to add up with the crew’s own view of history, all the way up to the late twentieth century. There things started to differ, at first it was just minor things that were easily explained by historical memory being distorted over time and faulty recollection, but the accounts started to diverge more and more the further into the future they went. And it soon became apparent that the Federation and Confederacy didn’t share a similar history… at all.

The eugenics war had never existed according to Morham and Resnick, and neither had the third world war. Both were major events in Earth history and should easily be remembered long afterwards.

There had been a number of similar events in their version of history though. Events that once again didn’t quite match up to the crew’s view of things. The increase in genetically and cybernetically modified people that had led to a world-wide purification task was one such incident. In principle it sounded very much like the eugenics wars, but in execution it had been anything but. It wasn’t a war with real battles, as much as a cover operation performed behind the scenes.

Then came the United Powers League and its rise to power, uniting the entire planet under one banner in order to bring humanity back from the brink of chaos. Again, it was somewhat similar to what had happened after first contact with the Vulcans. But missing several key details, such as aliens with pointy ears. A not so minor oversight.

And then finally, the colonization project dreamed up by the UPL was detailed. It had involved sending a number of massive spaceships loaded with unwanted people to distant planets, in order to prepare those worlds for colonization. A task that had ultimately ended in failure, as the computer-controlled ships veered of course and finally crashed on planets far away from their intended targets.

This was where Resnick’s and Morham’s knowledge on Earth related history ended, quite understandably, since no contact had been had with the planet ever since. Needless to say, their account of history brought up more questions then answers. And now, the captain was seriously wondering if this was all just some elaborate prank.

“Captain, if the accounts of these two individuals are to be believed, then the only conclusion can be that the Earth we are talking about is not the same.” Data suggested.

“But how could that be?” Riker asked.

“Parallel realities?” Geordi optioned. “The Federation has encountered people from similar but not identical realities before. Maybe this is another case of that happening?”

Picard wanted to dismiss the suggestion right out of hand. But then again, such things were not unheard of. And as far fetched as the idea sounded, the captain didn’t really have anything more plausible to offer as an explanation. “Assuming for a moment that what you just said is true, just for arguments sake, could the anomaly somehow be related to all this?” He asked.

“So far there’s been nothing to indicate as much.” Commander Riker said. “But I’ve found that when several strange things happen in succession they are often tied together in one way or another. In any case, we might find the answer to that question once we reach the center of the cloud.”

“Alternate realities?” Morham echoed incuriously. “Are you seriously considering that possibility? Do you have any idea how crazy it sounds?”

“Even if we don’t take it as fact, we should still accept the possibility. The theory seems to fit the facts, and far stranger things have happened.” Riker replied.

“Stranger things have happened? Not where I’m from.” The private said.

Riker seemed amused by that statement.

The meeting went on for a while, with further information being exchanged by the two parties involved. But in the end both sides walked away almost as puzzled as they had been before they had walked into the conference room. They had come to the conclusion that barring some form of altered timeline or alternate reality, there was no plausible explanation for what had happened and their differing views on history. Or rather, that was the official stance from both sides, deep down Picard was wondering whether the survivors had just made things up in order to divulge the truth. But then what would be gained by such an elaborate lie?

Picard anxiously wanted to send off a message to Starfleet, informing them of the situation the Enterprise now found itself in. Unfortunately that was impossible inside this anomaly, and they had already traveled too far to turn back now. No, he’d keep going, and in a few days, they should reach whatever was at the center of this gaseous cloud. Perhaps then things would become clearer.

Even if they didn’t find answers to their questions there, they could just turn back around and head back out.

Until then however, the captain knew he couldn’t keep the survivors under constant guard, or locked up somewhere, so they were given limited access to the ship. Restricted areas were off-limits, but otherwise they were free to move about.

Resnick had thought the decision quite curious and mentioned that if their roles had been reversed and Picard had been the one to find himself on a Confederate vessel, he’d sooner be locked up and telepathically interrogated before being given access to the ship.

[JEKrug01]

And the fun continues... That confirms the Starcraft portion of the cross, now who's next... and what'd happen to our *ahem* Confed guests on the E-E...

(*awaits the next one anxiously*)