they say she leaves behind a trail of bloodstained planets in every quadrant she explores, that her crew is ruthless and relentless and that if you ever cross one of hers, you will wish you hadn’t.
“So, I’m curious…” Sidney begins. “How’d you end up in a dark matter nebula in the middle of the gamma quadrant?”
The Subcommander averts his eyes, and Sidney can feel guilt, shame, and even fear churning in his mind. Sidney can tell that he both does and doesn’t want to tell him, sensing that the mere idea of telling Sidney causes him to anticipate pain.
The Subcommander closes his eyes and takes a breath. “Do you expect us to survive?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
The question surprises Sidney. “Yes,” he says simply. “We have to.”
A feeling of pessimistic amusement flashes through the Subcommander like a bolt of lightning. Somewhere beneath it, Sidney can sense enduring feelings of guilt, fear, helplessness and despair churning below. Sidney shuffles in his seat, somewhat unsettled. The Subcommander is quiet for a long time, until finally, he lets out a breath he’d been holding and speaks.
Sidney and Zhenka slowly and silently help each other up, a new sense of understanding hanging in the air between them. At least…Sidney finally understood Zhenka’s actions, and understood more about the experiment. But the meld left him with more questions about everything else.
Why would the Tal Shiar have gone on a suicide mission like that if what they wanted was control over the remaining Romulan populations? Or had they actually expected the experiment to work? What had happened to their quantum singularity to cause it to implode like that? How far-reaching were the effects of the implosion? What were the extent of the effects of the implosion?
…What was it about that shockwave after Zhenka had destroyed their probe that had brought himself and Zhenka together?
“Now you understand that the ion storm was not your fault,” Zhenka says. “I knew intense ion storms would be a possible effect if the experiment were to fail. Your calculations are sound.”
Sidney can tell Zhenka is clinging to anything to avoid thinking about Tyomik and Seshal, and all of the rest of the crew of the warbird, and Sidney’s preoccupation with his own deflector calculations had provided Zhenka with something to grasp onto. At this point, Sidney is glad to focus on the calculations right along with him. It stops Sidney from thinking about Tyomik’s tortured eyes, or the impressions he’d felt of the Romulan crew suffocating in their engineering room.
“That’s good,” Sid responds, “I think we can use these calculations to stabilise our warp field at a higher speed. I could use a hand making the modifications.”
Zhenka nods, and they both get to work. After a while, they fall into a smooth rhythm, each one silently making the required modifications. Sidney has to admit, it’s a lot more efficient to work with someone when that person can hear your thoughts and anticipate your requests. Sidney is just starting to be able to focus fully on his task without thinking about Tyomik’s terrified face when he feels an impression of curiosity coming from Zhenka.
“I…wanted to ask. What does it mean…Imzadi?” asks Zhenka from under the console.
Sid fumbles and the phase distributor in his hand clatters to the floor. He stoops to pick it up as heat rises to his cheeks. “Sorry, I…didn’t realise you had been awake then.”
Zhenka’s mind is the most calm it has felt since they met, like the surface of a pool of water that hasn’t ever been disturbed by wind or by fish. All Sid can feel from him is that steady sense of curiosity. “…You didn’t answer the question.”
“You’re right, very observant,” Sid deflects, focusing very intently on the next microcircuit.
“…Is it a secret?” Zhenka’s curiosity becomes tinged with amusement.
Sidney answers without thinking. “Yes.” He hopes he’s as good at blocking his thoughts now as he was when he was living with his parents.
Zhenka’s amusement grows enough to make him chuckle a bit. “Alright then, keep your secret. I’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure.”
Sidney shakes his head. “I…wouldn’t count on it.”
-
Q allows his consciousness to float to the place from whence he had plucked the USS Seabird for that ingrateful Captain Lemieux not too long ago…Oh, cosmos. There he goes thinking in their limited temporal terms again. Still, he can’t help feeling a bit attached to those little bipedal beings. This whole mess is the most interesting thing he’s experienced in eons. He’s even fond of the nickname their Mr. Letang had given him. Although he had been hundreds of thousands of different flowers on tens of thousands of different planets…no one had ever thought to call him ‘flower’ before. It was always ‘Q’ this, ‘Q’ that. Or his personal favourite: “Oh fuck, not you again.”
He allows himself to solidify into a form and takes in the expanse of blackness before him. It’s much bigger than it had been when he’d left it a short time ago…but how was that possible? It makes him extremely uncomfortable to admit it, but…he can’t tell how far the expanse extends. There’s no frame of reference from which to determine its dimensions. It all just seems to….stretch out infinitely into nothingness.
“Afraid to go in there, Q?” A voice behind him rings into his mind.
Flower rolls his eyes. In his present form, that means all 600 of them. “Oh please, Q. I fear absolutely nothing. I’m just trying to…size up the situation, that’s all.”
“Well, you better do it soon,” Q says. She takes the same form he’s in and floats up next to him, the cosmos reflecting in her rippling gossamer fins. “The continuum is growing increasingly more…uneasy as this expanse continues to extend itself.”
“Well, Q, you can let them know I’m trying to come up with a solution to the problem,” Flower says impatiently, the lights in the ridges along his transparent body flashing magenta, reflecting his discontent. “And I am perfectly capable of taking care of this little incident on my own. They don’t have to send me a chaperone.”
Q’s ridges flash an intense green colour. “I’m not a chaperone, I was sent to—”
“Assess my progress, yes! I know! I’ve done that for other young Qs before; it’s called being a chaperone!” Flower says impatiently, his magenta ridge lights intensifying. “Look, it’s not like they would send an amateur to take care of something this important! So if you’ll kindly leave and let me think…”
Q’s ridge lights turn orange and she scoffs at him (as much as she can in her present form). “If you’d stop assuming for a moment you’d know I was sent to bring you a message. The continuum is monitoring the surrounding dimensions, and this expanse appears to cut into all of them. You need to figure out a way to close it, or we could be expecting visits from the Keitrieans. Or worse. Now, I’ll leave you to your…thinking.”
And with a flash of white light, she disappears.
Flower’s ridge lights flash a soft blue, and he returns all his eyes to the expanse in front of him.
“Ugh. I hate talking to the Keitrieans. All those geometric shapes and their ‘order of everything'…” He shudders. “Worse than talking to the Tholians.”
He hesitates. It is exciting for him not to know what to expect in the expanse, but for some reason it still leaves him with a feeling of intense unease.
“Well, I’m probably going to have to go in there.”
He’s going to go in there, he just…needs to psych himself up a bit. Figure out what would be the best form to take.
It shouldn’t take too long.
-
Sidney and Zhenka continue working silently for a few more hours until the modifications are complete.
“Okay, try it now,” comes Zhenka’s voice from under the console.
Sidney initiates the programme and smiles as he watches the shield’s integrity rise to 100%.
“Computer, calculate the top speed we can hold with a stable warp field.”
“Warp field should be stable at a top speed of warp three.”
Sid and Zhenka both smile and Sidney offers his arm to Zhenka to help him up.
“Computer, increase speed to warp three!”
The computer beeps its compliance and the both of them lean back in their chairs with heavy sighs.
“We did it!” Sidney laughs. “I mean, it’s a small victory, but we did it!”
“Yes,” Zhenka says, relieved. Sidney can feel that warm fondness he felt earlier coming from Zhenka, and when Sid looks at him, he finds him staring right back at him, a soft smile on his face.
Sidney averts his eyes. “Let’s get something to eat to celebrate, eh? I’m starving.”
Zhenka agrees and follows him to the aft compartment. They get some food from the replicators and sit down to their meals at the small table there.
After a few moments, Zhenka looks up from his meal. “Thank you…for staying with me last night. And for rescuing me. I think maybe…if you weren’t there, I would have drifted away. Gotten lost in my own madness. My own guilt. But you…”
He trails off, and when Sidney looks up at him, he’s looking at him with an expression on his face that would betray his gratitude and fondness even if Sidney wasn’t an empath.
“You helped me. You saved me. Even when I didn’t want it. Even when I fired on you and put you in danger. You risked your life for me. And I cannot even begin to fathom why.”
Sidney averts his gaze and nods. “I told you…you don’t have to do this alone. I want to help you.”
Zhenka nods. “That…isn’t everything, though…is it? There must be another reason.”
Sidney looks down at his plate and swallows. He hadn’t expected a gentle interrogation.
“I’ve gotten so accustomed to your thoughts now that we’ve worked together on something, but…there’s a place in your mind…carefully hidden away from everyone else,” Zhenka says. “I…have a feeling that the reason for why you helped me is in there somewhere.”
Sidney opens his mouth to say something, but Zhenka closes his eyes and continues speaking.
“I only saw pieces of it when you were in my mind, but…you were younger…there was a distress call…and then an explosion? You seem to be blocking the rest.”
Sidney shakes his head. “You have an, uh…interesting idea of dinner conversation…”
Zhenka’s face flushes. “I don’t mean to intrude, it’s just…I feel that you have me at a disadvantage,” he says. “You know so much about me, I just…wanted to learn something about you—”
“I was a cadet,” Sidney interrupts, putting his fork down. It was fair that Zhenka wanted to know more about him, especially since Sidney had seen so much of what caused Zhenya to feel such shame. But maybe he wasn’t ready to tell Zhenka the whole reason why he wanted to help him. “I was sent to field training on the USS Hyperion. It was during the night shift and we responded to a distress call from an Orion shuttle. There had been problems with piracy in the area and this distress call looked similar to the way Orion pirates had ambushed people in the past. We tried hailing, but their communications systems were down. I didn’t read any other ships in the area, and the shuttle’s propulsion core was approaching critical. I recommended that we beam the pilot of the shuttle to safety. The Lieutenant Commander in charge disagreed. We…got into an argument on the bridge. I embarrassed him. He sent me to the brig for insubordination, and the shuttle exploded. The pilot turned out to be an important member of the Orion government. Our inability to save her; our inaction caused an incident with the Orion syndicate that threatened the balance of power in the sector. If I had just been a bit more diplomatic….”
“I think your decision was the correct one. It’s not your fault that your commander could not see past his own authority.”
“I said…some pretty nasty things to him,” Sidney says quietly.
“Perhaps things that needed to be said,” Zhenka responds.
“Maybe so…” Sidney shakes his head. “But that man is now the captain of the Hyperion, so…”
“Ah,” Zhenka says. “When we get out of here, you’ll have to point him out to me so I can embarrass him even more.”
Sidney looks up at him, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You just said, ‘when we get out of here’.”
Zhenka smiles and looks to the side, as if he’s reluctant to admit it. “Yes…Your optimism is…contagious. And with your deflector calculations…I’m beginning to feel that we have a real chance of escape.”
Sidney feels himself smiling before he knows what’s happening. It’s a soft smile that only grows when Zhenka makes eye contact with him. He can feel his own fondness for Zhenka bloom in his chest like a Datura Moonflower, opening in the moonlight on a warm summer’s night. Realisation dawns on Zhenka and he raises a brow.
“And…now I think I understand what Imzadi means,” Zhenka says softly, holding eye contact with him.
Sidney turns away to hide the soft green blush on his face. “Well…You didn’t hear it from me.”
Zhenka only smiles fondly at him, and even though Sid isn’t looking at him, he can feel Zhenka’s amusement and fondness peeking like a sunset through the cloudburst of his other emotions.
“We were…we were caught in the middle of a class 5 ion storm. I was trying to calculate the intermix ratio to route warp power through the deflector to help reinforce the shields and give us a buffer against the ion discharges, but…I must have miscalculated something because I ended up frying most of the EPS conduits on the ship when we were struck by an ion discharge. People were injured in the process and…” Sidney trails off for a second. “I felt their pain as the conduits they were working near blew out.”
They’d had so much success with the creativity experiments, but both Starfleet and the Knight Foundation had made it clear that they considered such experiments to be a waste of time. She assured them it had done wonders for his fine motor skills, but they put a stop to the experiments after only four months. It was a pity, really…KITT was such a good painter. Bonnie had several of his works hanging up in her quarters, all of the ones that he had given to her. She was particularly fond of that one with the bright purple flower…
In lieu of Bonnie’s carefully planned out developmental curriculum, Starfleet and the Knight Foundation had ordered KITT to start on agility and dexterity tests. Next came sparring drills against other androids, but his underdeveloped balance and coordination kept him coming back to Bonnie after each session, each time damaged in some new way.
It was so frustrating watching him assure her that he was alright with the change in his curriculum, that she had nothing to worry about, all while she had to repair delicate microcircuits and parts of his body that she’d spent a good chunk of her lifetime developing. She was also beginning to sense a definite shift in his demeanour that left her feeling unsettled. He seemed so much more withdrawn…not at all like his sunny, amicable disposition when they had been painting together. He hardly ever smiled anymore.
She knew android rights were basically in their infancy, but she was grateful that KITT was at least allowed some down time amidst his ‘obligations’ to Starfleet and the Knight Foundation. And she was grateful that KITT unequivocally chose to spend those off hours with her. It allowed her to continue his developmental curriculum, at least to an abbreviated degree. She had to spend so much time repairing him now, she hardly had time to play Chess and Kal toh with him, or paint or draw with him. Or to watch him play the violin. But, at least in their off hours, she could try to help him improve his balance and coordination to help him in those godforsaken sparring drills.
Last month, they had done some Capoeira, Tai Chi, and Klingon MoQbara on the holodeck, which had helped reduce KITT’s injuries by about 12%, but it hadn’t seemed to help his morale. He looked so tired this month.
“Hello, Bonnie,” KITT greeted her. He looked even more tired then than he had after she had repaired him earlier that day.
“Hi, KITT,” she welcomed him in and gestured for him to sit. He sat on the couch opposite the door to her quarters.
“Are you doing alright?”
“I’m alright, Bonnie,” KITT said, holding her gaze.
She stared back at him, sensing deception from him. “KITT,” she said softly. “I didn’t programme you to lie.”
He averted his gaze. “I…don’t want to trouble you.”
She silently crossed the room and sat next to him. “KITT. What troubles me,” she made sure he was looking at her before she continued. “…is that you’re not telling me what’s wrong.”
KITT’s gaze shifted away from her’s again, and he looked deep in thought. She tried to reach out to him with her mind, but she found his closed off.
“I…” KITT began after a moment. “While I do enjoy my agility and dexterity tests, I…really do not enjoy these sparring drills. Although, I know they are necessary for my entrance into Starfleet. I do not wish to let anyone down.”
She nodded and put a hand on his shoulder, sensing a determination in him that she hadn’t sensed before.
“I don’t think you’re letting anybody down, KITT.” It’s them who are letting you down by not allowing you a normal development period, she didn’t say.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” KITT said. He straightened his back. “So, what will we do today? More MoQbara?”
Bonnie smiled softly at him. He was all business these days.
“I thought today we would take a bit of a break.”
He looked at her. “Oh?”
She stood and held out her hand. “Have you ever wanted to try ballroom dancing, KITT?”
A small smile played at the corners of his lips. “I…hadn’t thought I would have the time.”
They both went to the holodeck and muddled through a holographic dance instructor’s lesson for about an hour. After a while, Bonnie noticed that they were getting the hang of it, and before she knew it, she felt like she was gliding across the floor. She laughed as they twirled around the room—her hand in KITT’s and his other hand on her hip—she was so happy that his smile had returned to his face.
By the time the dance instruction programme ended, she had begun to sense something else from KITT. Something she couldn’t place.
“Computer,” KITT called. “Please play Gymnopedie № 1 in D.”
As the music began, he took her hand and placed his other hand on her hip once more.
She put her other hand on his shoulder, wishing he would look at her. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling, and it was something she was so unaccustomed to.
They started to move with the music and he finally brought his gaze up to hers. She could sense that he was more relaxed than he had seemed in months, but there was still something she was missing. Maybe her worry was clouding her ability to read him.
They danced to the slow music and Bonnie willed herself to stop worrying about him. They both needed a break and she knew he could sense her worry. She closed her eyes allowed herself to just be led. She lost herself in the sweeping turns and the slow steps, imagining herself in a flowing dress with sparkling embroidery.
He took her into another turn, watching a smile spread over her face. He knew she was lost somewhere in her imagination; a skill he hadn’t quite mastered yet. He envied her a little for it, but he knew she would eventually teach him how. He wished he could be with her all the time instead of going through those sparring drills. He wished he could spend forever with her.
“This is quite…” he paused, his feet stilling as Bonnie looked up at him. The sight of her eyes filled him with an emotion he couldn’t quite comprehend. “Enjoyable…Bonnie…”
Then, as she looked at him, she suddenly understood what she had missed in his feelings before. Attachment. Attraction. Infatuation.
“Yes…it…it is,” Bonnie replied, a bit breathlessly. She’d been suppressing those same emotions towards him ever since their painting lessons.
Only he wasn’t supposed to be able to feel those emotions yet. She had specifically programmed his emotions to develop slowly to avoid this very thing…
He’d been progressing so fast. Faster than she had anticipated. They were conducting an experiment in creativity this month, and his paintings already showed so much life.
She looked at him then, and she could barely believe that it had been 6 months since she’d activated him.
Six months. It seemed like nothing compared to the 15 years she’d spent developing his programme. His cybernetic brain. His body…
She caught herself allowing her gaze to follow the sharp line of his jaw, the tight creases of his uniform, the obtuse angle of the illuminated chevron on his chest…
Her cheeks reddened slightly and she forced herself to look back at her painting.
“Something wrong, Bonnie?” KITT asked as he continued painting petals on a bright purple flower.
“Uh, it’s just…” Bonnie wasn’t sure what to say. She gestured at his canvas. “…Yours looks so much better than mine.”
The android’s hand stilled and he furrowed his brows. He looked over at her.
“Bonnie, aren’t you the one who told me that painting is an art, not a competition?”
He held her gaze, and she couldn’t help smiling at him.
“Idid say that, didn’t I?”
“You did,” the android confirmed. A small smile played at the corners of his lips as he turned back to his painting.
Bonnie took in a breath and let it out slowly. She supposed she couldn’t be blamed for admiring her ownart.
“Congratulations, Bonnie! They said it couldn’t be done, and you did it.”
“The first android with telepathic abilities. He will be a great benefit to Starfleet and all of the peoples of the federation.”
“Dr. Soong would be proud.”
—
“Hello, I am the K-I 2000 model android. How may I be of assistance?”
Bonnie couldn’t help smiling. This was the voice she’d worked so hard to create. It was like music to her ears.
“Welcome to the Daystrom institute, KITT.”
“The Daystrom Institute of Cybernetics. The hub for the foremost research on cybernetics and my birthplace. KITT…” The android paused and moved his head, looking at her for the first time. “Inquiry: what is…KITT?”
She can’t hold back a small laugh. She knows he isn’t in the loop, but she’s been calling this project—she’s been calling him that for the past 15 years. Ever since the Knight Foundation, Starfleet, and the Daystrom Institute of Cybernetics agreed to fund her work.
There had been so much preparation. So many sleepless nights. A decade and a half of careful planning and hard work. She’d waited so long for this moment, and it was finally here.
“It’s an abbreviation of your full name, Knight-Isometric 2000.”
He blinked at her, light glinting off his golden irises. “Ah. Understood. I am the K-I 2000 model android. I am called KITT, for short.”
“Yes, KITT,” Bonnie agreed, nodding. Her smile broadened. She knew there was so much more work to do, but this was just the beginning. This was the beginning of the rest of her life. “Welcome to the world.”
The moment Tyomik leaves, Zhenka slowly grabs the dermal regenerator. He removes his rank insignia from the collar of his uniform and carefully uses it to try to pry the regenerator open. His hands are violently shaking and he drops the rank insignia more than once, but each time, he picks it up and continues his efforts. It kills Sidney to watch him do this when he knows he can’t help him; he can feel that Zhenka is in so much pain. But he can also feel the determination within Zhenka.
After what feels like hours (but was probably only half an hour), Zhenka is finally able to take the dermal regenerator apart, and slowly, piece by piece, he removes components until he finally finds the piece he’s looking for. He sighs in relief and slowly stands up, clutching his ribs, unable to stop a small whimper from escaping his lips. He stands there for a moment, breathing through the pain, and then he walks towards the light panel on the wall of his cell. Once again, he takes his rank insignia and begins the arduous process of trying to pry the panel off the wall, but he suddenly hears someone coming. He pockets his rank insignia and stumbles back to the bench, sitting on the components of the dermal regenerator to hide them.
The commander comes walking through the door, smiling an ugly smile. Sidney notices he’s missing a tooth. “You know, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. I’ve always hated your incessant whining.”
Zhenka laughs bitterly. “Admit it. You’ve wanted to throw me out of the airlock since the day we left for how much I insisted we should return to help the colonies.”
“The thought had crossed my mind, yes.”
Zhenka laughs some more, and Sid can feel how much it hurts his ribs. “So what stopped you, Seshal?”
The commander turns away for a moment. “Despite your…questionable political alignments, you really have been the most competent second-in-command I’ve ever had. It’s…such a pity.”
Zhenka shakes his head. “You make it sound…” he winces and coughs. “Make it sound like you’ve come in here…to kill me.”
The commander turns to Zhenka, and despite the intensity of his anger before, he’s surprised at Zhenka’s words.
“Well? Go ahead. Get it over with.” Zhenka says.
“Zhenka! You know this ship better than anyone else. It should be you in there running the experiment. The work we do here today could change the lives of everyone in the colonies! We must continue with it now! Will you listen to reason? For once?”
Zhenka laughs some more. He laughs so hard he’s sent into a painful fit of coughing.
“Reason!” He wheezes, coughing some more. “You’ve never listened to… my reason, Seshal, so why should I… listen to yours now?”
“Because,” the commander turns his back to him. “Goddamn it, Zhenka, you know as well as I do that this experiment is the last hope for our people!”
Zhenka laughs some more, and tears are streaming down his face, more from the pain than anything.
“You can cut… the bullshit with me, Seshal,” Zhenka coughs. “I know what you actually care about, and it’s not the colonies… or helping our people. You want redemption. You want redemption because you watched our star destroy our world, and what was your reaction? You ordered us to run away. To get as far away from your problems as possible so you could pretend that you still had a Star Empire to answer to and all the power and respectability that comes with it. And I was so young and naïve that I followed your orders like a good little officer. How stupid I was then…”
The commander lunges at the force field.
“Damn you, Zhenka!”
“And then the Tal Shiar come to find you…” Zhenka speaks over him, causing the commander’s ire to grow exponentially. “They tell you exactly what you want to hear, and you believe them. You still do. Sure, I did too, at first. They knew what I wanted to hear. They told us we could help the colonies. But then I actually started trying to implement their little experiment, and the calculations are complete nonsense. This plan of theirs is inherently flawed. And you won’t listen to me—won’t give me the time I need to actually make it work. So no. I will not listen to your ‘reason’. Throw me out of the airlock. Shoot me with your disruptor if you must. But do not ask me now to help you destroy this vessel and the people on it.”
The intercom suddenly beeps. “Commander, we’re ready to begin the first test run.”
The commander slowly unholsters his disruptor, and Zhenka swallows hard.
“I will kill you…”
The commander sets his disruptor down on the control console in view of Zhenka’s cell.
“…after we’re successful.”
-
Once the commander leaves the brig, Zhenka knows he has little time left. He winces as he stands, then rushes over to the light panel and continues his efforts to pry it from the wall.
He’s getting so close to being able to get it off when he suddenly feels the vibrations of the engines powering up.
Tyomik! You need to stop them! Zhenka thinks. Don’t let them continue!
Zhenka’s determination soon turns to desperation as he feels the ship begin to move forward. He knows what will happen next. They will go to warp, they’ll bring the modifications they’ve been working on for months online. If one thing is out of place, it could rip a hole in spacetime, which will affect the area around the ship for a radius of…he doesn’t even know how many lightyears. His gut tells him it’ll cause a cascade reaction, possibly more powerful than a matter-antimatter explosion. But the truth is, he doesn’t know the extent of the chaos it could unleash.
The ship begins to speed up and he begins desperately clawing at the light panel. He has to get out. Why did he tell Tyomik to lock him in? It was for Tyomik’s safety. He knew Seshal would come in to gloat and then try to persuade Zhenka to his side. It was a well-established pattern by this point. Seshal wouldn’t be able to help it. But maybe none of that matters anymore. Not if they’ll all be dead soon.
Please…Tyomik, please…
The ship speeds up. Zhenka claws at the panel.
They’re at warp. Zhenka claws at the panel.
The panel finally comes loose from the wall.
But reality suddenly seems to warp, and his vision blurs. The panel melts out of Zhenka’s fingers, all of his joints crack and his fingers seem to bend backwards. He cries out in pain and doesn’t make a sound. The wall loses its shape for a split second before snapping back to normal. The air around him seems to crackle with static electricity, his hair stands on end, something smells like copper, and Zhenka knows immediately that he’s too late.
A shiver runs down Sidney’s spine. He can sense that something is terribly wrong in engineering. The people there are suffocating. They’re trying to scream, but they can’t. He closes his eyes and listens to their final thoughts.
They’re drowning. Choking on a black mist that’s filling engineering, quickly escaping through a crack in that little box that contains their quantum singularity.
Suddenly, there’s an implosion. Ion discharges crackle through the walls, and the power conduit in the wall behind Zhenka’s cell ruptures, throwing Zhenka headfirst into the wall in front of him with a sickening crack.
Then, everything is black.
—
Sidney blinks in the darkness. What happened? Had the meld been broken? If it had, why is it so dark? Why does he feel pain in his ribs? Why is it so hard to breathe? …or is it Zhenka who feels like that? The fact that he currently can’t tell himself and Zhenka apart frightens him, but he wills himself not to panic.
It’s dark for so long…he tries to call out Zhenka’s name, but he finds that he can’t make a sound.
Suddenly, finally, after what feels like an hour, his ears catch a faint sound behind him and he turns around.
Laboured breathing.
He’s suddenly able to see what looks like a green emergency light through the wisps of dark haze. The ship is so still…until an ominous creaking noise rings out across the bulkheads and sparks rain down from a conduit in the wall with a sharp crackle. The light from the conduit briefly illuminates the shape of a person lying on the floor, rhythmically shifting under his laboured breaths. It’s Zhenka…and what Sid feels from him now mirrors everything he felt when they first met. Confusion. Anguish. Elation. Horror. Sorrow. Terrible pain.
After a moment, Zhenka whimpers as he struggles to get up. He’s wheezing, and he loses his footing a few times, falling back down to his knees. There’s a fresh cut on his left cheek with a piece of something black and glassy stuck in it. With a trembling hand, he reaches up and pulls it out, letting out a scream of anguish that crushes Sidney. Zhenka drops the fragment like it had burned him and falls to his knees, tears streaming down his face.
As he sits there, his wheezes seem to grow more intense, until Sidney suddenly realises that Zhenka is… laughing. Sidney feels cold all over. There’s something so unsettling about that laugh that he finds himself wanting to run…part of him wants to break the meld, but the part of him that needs to know what happened wins out, and he stays rooted to the spot.
Suddenly, the emergency lights start to blink, and the broken sound of a partially-damaged proximity alarm crackles over the comm system. Zhenka’s laugh sharply ends and his head snaps up.
“No…Get away….” He growls deep in his throat. “Not…safe….”
Zhenka staggers forward, grabbing the commander’s disruptor from where it had ended up on the floor and limp-running through the crumpled door to the brig out onto the deck. Sidney follows as best he can, nearly tripping on the debris scattered all over the corridor.
About halfway down the corridor Zhenka suddenly stops—so quickly that Sidney almost crashes into him—and turns his head, disruptor pistol held at the ready. Sidney hears faint whispers coming from the corridor behind them.
Zhenka…
Zhenka, you are dead…
I have won…
The unmistakable sound of the Romulan commander laughing echoes through Zhenka’s ears. A low scream rips from Zhenka’s throat, and Sidney presses himself against the bulkhead to avoid being hit in the face with the disruptor pistol as Zhenka points it down the corridor and fires a shot.
Sidney carefully turns his head to look down the dark corridor.
There’s nothing there.
Zhenka’s breaths are wild and stridorous, and he squints down the corridor as he slowly lowers the disruptor. The proximity alarm sounds again, and Zhenka lets out a sharp, hissing breath as he runs down the corridor, back towards what Sidney somehow knows is the bridge.
-
As they pass more and more closed doors in the corridors, Sidney becomes increasingly aware of a low hiss of whispers; the same whispers we heard during his first meld with Zhenka. He can feel Zhenka trying so hard to ignore them, but the whispers grow louder with every step they take, until Sidney can hear what some of them are saying.
The Star Empire has died with us…
The Tal Shiar has eliminated the empire. We won.
No survivors. We have dealt the final blow…
Zhenka ignores these whispers. But he can’t ignore the next whisper he hears.
Zhenka…I’m sorry…
I failed you.
“Tyomik…no…” Zhenka breaks into a run. His eyes are swimming with tears. The proximity alarm sounds with a faster frequency.
Zhenka comes up to a door, wrenching back a small compartment next to it and grabbing the handle inside. The door lets out a hiss as it slowly opens, and Zhenka slides through onto the bridge as soon as the gap is large enough for him to fit through.
When Sidney follows him in, the first thing he sees is the warbird’s main viewscreen, streaks of static periodically sweeping across it. It’s hard to see, but he can just make out the unmistakable orange glow of a federation probe. The one the Seabird sent into what they thought was a dark matter nebula. Sidney looks at Zhenka as he stares at the screen; he can tell that Zhenka has no idea what the object is, and the sensors are non-operational, so they can’t help him find out. But the probe is about the size of an escape pod…and the wave of contempt and hatred that comes off of Zhenka nearly knocks Sid off his feet.
“So this is how the Tal Shiar operates, ah?” Zhenka screams at the screen. “You destroy us and go on your way…ready to grasp all the remaining power over the Romulan people…We just…” Zhenka laughs. “We were renegades…outcasts…and you still felt we stood in your way…” he pauses to breathe, then continues in a low raspy voice. “In your insatiable pride, you had to…have one last victory…over the star empire…” He wheezes, reaches a shaking hand out to the weapons array.
“Choke on your pride.”
Zhenka fires a single shot at the probe, and Sidney watches it explode as if it were in slow motion. The explosion sends a reticulated network of blinding white bolts rippling through the entire cloud of dark mist, and sends a shockwave hurtling towards the ship…harrowingly similar-no, the same one that that was fast approaching the Seabird—
The bridge of the warbird is suddenly enveloped in a blinding white light and Sidney feels the impact…and he suddenly feels stretched, as if his mind is riding the edge of that shockwave, reaching out, calling for help, warning to stay away…
and, finally, impacting the Seabird.
Sidney opens his eyes, and suddenly, he’s on the bridge of the seabird. He sees his own body on the flaming bridge, crumpled against the wall behind his station.
He hears a woman’s laugh. He sees the kindly old Romulan woman. He sees a white hot explosion. He sees his own little sister and the dock by their house on Earth.
Sidney breaks the mind meld, and the two of them fall back onto the floor, gasping for air.
Sidney understands now. He and Zhenka don’t just have a connection because of these mind melds…it happened then. The shockwave brought them together. Bound them.
It’s a tiny regional airport in a small city that’s fallen on hard times. There are maybe two gates and only one runway. It looks like it was built in the 40′s and has never been remodeled. Most of the traffic is private planes and the smallest connecting commercial flights.
Quark’s Restaurant & Bar & Grill always smells like breakfast and cigarettes. The carpet has been replaced in sections and none of the squares quite match. Vintage arcade games line the narrow hall that leads to the restrooms.
There’s a news stand that sometimes has fresh flowers. There’s always a religious nut handing out beautifully illustrated pamphlets about the alien oppressors. The baggage carousel never stops rattling.
Nobody’s really sure why Garak chose to set up shop in the space that used to be the car rental office. Most of his business seems to come from dry cleaning pilots’ uniforms.
Modern Star Trek AU where the main crew of the enterprise are alien chasers on a road trip in their RV. Bones doesn’t believe in aliens but tagged along to make sure his idiot best friend doesn’t get himself killed doing something stupid like trying to break into Area 51. Spock was a hitchhiker they picked up and it takes them about two weeks to realize he’s an alien and not just some guy who likes wearing elf ears.
I’m gonna make a sequel about the next gen crew where they know Troi and Worf are aliens and they just tell everyone that Troi is wearing contacts and make Worf wear stupid cheesy disguises like ugly sunglasses and giant sun hats and hope no one notices. They accidentally stole Data from Area 51.
And since these are both part of a modern au they do take place at the same time but both Enterprises have no idea the other exists.
Modern Star Trek AU where the main crew of the enterprise are alien chasers on a road trip in their RV. Bones doesn’t believe in aliens but tagged along to make sure his idiot best friend doesn’t get himself killed doing something stupid like trying to break into Area 51. Spock was a hitchhiker they picked up and it takes them about two weeks to realize he’s an alien and not just some guy who likes wearing elf ears.
This is a Frostiron Secret Santa 2015 gift for the anonymous requester of prompt #13, the Star Trek AU.
First, let me apologize for my shameful eleventh-hour posting. It is so late for the same reason why it’s so incomplete. This prompt clearly called out for some quality writing. Unfortunately, I cannot give you quality writing, because I can’t write. I’m not one of these fancy writists overrunning this fandom of ours. I’m an arter. I art. Nonetheless, I worked out a pretty good story for this one, because Frostiron + Star Trek = YES. Unfortunately, stuff happened and blah blah you don’t care, but I ended up only being able to draw a few scenes rather than the longer thing I wanted to make to do justice to your request. If it makes you feel better, I fully intend to expand on this and write and/or more extensively illustrate this story in the new year.
To hold you over, here’s a quick summary:
Ensign Tony Stark, once a civilian engineer, has spent the entirety of his as-yet short Starfleet career in the drafting room at Mars station, working on ship designs. His latest project was a refit of the USS Skidbladnir, an older starship receiving upgrades in preparation for an extended deep space mission. As the least senior member of the overhaul team, Ensign Stark gets the short straw of accompanying the newly outfitted Skidbladniron its shakedown cruise with its new captain, an unsociable Vulcan named Loki, known for his preference for deep space missions and practice of staffing his ships with an unusually high percentage of non-humans. Tony, a Terran who has never been out of the Sol system and has mostly lived and worked with humans, experiences some culture shock, finds an ally in the wonderfully unconventional Commander Sif, the Vulcan first officer/chief of security, and tries to figure out exactly what the captain’s problem is with humans in general (hint: you won’t believe this, but he’s adopted) and Tony in particular. There is danger, shocking revelations, ship-christening shenanigans, scandalous Vulcan kissing, and maybe a little tiny explosion that was totally no one’s fault, and besides it’s already fixed and the infirmary needed to be broken in anyway.
I hope you like it and you’ll be good enough to wait until I have more. Have a great holiday and I’ll see you in the new year!
Also, I didn’t know which Trek you wanted, so I guessed and went with TOS. Chances are, I guessed wrong. Let’s be honest, chances are you wanted AOS. Sorry.
i have been thinking so many thoughts about @fishfingersandscarves Star Trek au. they include: stede captain kirk uniform damage moment, con o’neill could get me to care about cardassians, the gay little dress uniforms from insurrection,
A goofy lil idea I had for a 1950s AU where Spock is an active artist/writer/musician in the beat movement, and Kirk is from Leave it to Beaver.
Kirk is enamored with the new things that big-city Spock teaches him, and Spock adores small-town Kirk’s genuine, heartfelt hospitality.
———
Kirk: … Mr. Spock<3?
Spock: yes James darling.
Kirk: I um, wrote some poetry & I was wondering if you’d maybe take a look
Spock: POETRY! Why of course James!
———
———
Spock:…
Kirk: well? What do you think?
Spock: James… is this your first time writing poetry?
*kirk experiences despair*
———
———
Spock: JAMES! why are you crying?
Spock: your poetry may not be refined, but it is IMPORTANT. It is YOU. It is IMPORTANT BECAUSE it is YOU.
Spock: your poetry represents everything you are now James, but also everything you ever might be
Spock: it is the manifestation of your present state which makes it inherently valuable, worthwhile & beautiful. Other people’s opinions are irrelevant.
During promotional work for SteaMage I had some time and finally let myself indulge XD
We’re watching Star Trek TNG atm and I love Data like… a lot. And because he’s an android with a very similiar hairline to another android I love…. yeah XD
