(( Approximately a month and a half ago, Captain Traise went on a little week long adventure while in the final stages of his Diplomatic Negotiations on New Romulus. For obvious reasons he has not made a mission log involving this particular journey, nor has the information of his travels really spread beyond a few people. That being said however, I still like to share.
With the exception of two people, this information is probably best considered completely meta.
So for your enjoyment, I bring you the Ballad of Alter-Traise in the following posts. I may expand this post with information pertaining to standard arrangements if it doesn't come out well enough through the stories narrative. ))
The Ballad of Alter-Traise
"Mr. Traise, again, we'd like to thank you for all that you have helped us accomplish in the last few days."
He nodded in response to the compliment as they made their way through the staging area. It was obvious flattery for appearances sake only, but he didn't mind. It was just how these things worked. One of the unspoken understandings of diplomacy that apparently also made its way into Romulan culture; in the strange way that some things do in this universe.
"It goes without saying though, that this week will be rather important. If the representatives don't find the settlement proposals and incentives enticing then all this will have resulted in very little progress."
Traise smiled his reassuring smile, "That's what the meeting on weeks end is for. We'll convince them. The continued settlement of Mol'Rihan is more than just a symbol. It's actually a really good idea. They'll come to see that, I'm convinced."
The small group of Republican Representatives and Ambassador Traise of Task Force Argo stopped just short of the Transporter pad, the daily activity of the staging zone buzzing around them. The nervous glances between the Romulans betrayed their concern.
"That's why, Sir, we are worried about you and the Forerunner leaving the system. You have become rather crucial to this effort. If something were to happen to you-"
John never made it a habit of interrupting anyone in diplomacy, let along conversations with Romulans, but he raised an open hand in exception, "I assure you this is just a small formality. I simply need to return to my Task Force's base of operations for some supplies and to transfer some personnel. After all, the Forerunner isn't my primary vessel. But when I return we will have everything we need and nothing will stop the negotiations from proceeding as planned."
They glanced among one another again, unconvinced.
Traise merely smiled with a sigh and started them again in the final steps towards the transporter pad, "Relax. I will be back before mid-week and by the end of this all we will have planted the roots for a strong tree of prosperity and peace. One that with any luck will continue to bare fruit for our children."
At last there was one relaxed face among the three. For the Romulans that was as good enough as a smile. "Well, your words have put us at ease for now, but we will all feel as secure as you do about the matter once you've returned."
He stepped on the pad, turned sharply and gave a solid nod. "You have my word." The combadge chimed as he tapped it. "Traise to Forerunner. Ready for beam out."
"Aye, sir."
The air around him flickered and fluttered with the shimmering of a thousand fireflies, but then faded all too quickly; leaving three Romulan council members and Johnathon Traise standing there looking at each other awkwardly. Traise's brow undulated and furrowed as he tapped the combadge again.
"Chief Belu?"
"Sorry, Sir. The emergency fail-safes kicked in. Your signal was too "heavy." It's apparently registering two individuals when we're trying to beam you up. We're trying to clear it up now."
When asked, after the fact, there would be many things that John could claim told him there was a cloaked individual standing behind him with a weapon. It could have been the few short years he had been practicing the martial art of Kendo on Earth as well as in the ship's Holodeck. He could chalk it up to combat experience and the countless away team missions in which he found himself nose to "nose" with very angry (and often smelly) alien warriors who thought battle was best dealt in hand to hand. There was even the small chance that he could pass it off as the effects of a high ESPer rating. But to tell the truth, in that moment, the strongest thing telling John that there was a man behind his back trying to kill him was literary foreshadowing.
With a rather fluid motion John turned and rolled his body, reaching out for an arm that he knew would be there. With a shift of his weight to his hip and the slight shimmer of an effected silhouette John rolled the body over his shoulder, around, and off; over the edge of the platform. There was a scream and the splash of water down at the base of the cliff-face below. After that the only thing John had left to contend with was the confused stares of countless Romulans and passerbies who had stopped in their tracks, bewildered.
"Tal Shiar Assassin," he shrugged casually.
There was a collective and knowing "Aaaah" before everyone went back to business as usual. It was slightly unsettling how accepting of an answer that was to most Romulans these days.
"This is Belu," his combadge spoke again, "Looks like it's gone now, Sir."
"Good," he said pleased, "One to beam up."
With that, he disappeared into a cloud of stars.
"Mr. Traise, again, we'd like to thank you for all that you have helped us accomplish in the last few days."
He nodded in response to the compliment as they made their way through the staging area. It was obvious flattery for appearances sake only, but he didn't mind. It was just how these things worked. One of the unspoken understandings of diplomacy that apparently also made its way into Romulan culture; in the strange way that some things do in this universe.
"It goes without saying though, that this week will be rather important. If the representatives don't find the settlement proposals and incentives enticing then all this will have resulted in very little progress."
Traise smiled his reassuring smile, "That's what the meeting on weeks end is for. We'll convince them. The continued settlement of Mol'Rihan is more than just a symbol. It's actually a really good idea. They'll come to see that, I'm convinced."
The small group of Republican Representatives and Ambassador Traise of Task Force Argo stopped just short of the Transporter pad, the daily activity of the staging zone buzzing around them. The nervous glances between the Romulans betrayed their concern.
"That's why, Sir, we are worried about you and the Forerunner leaving the system. You have become rather crucial to this effort. If something were to happen to you-"
John never made it a habit of interrupting anyone in diplomacy, let along conversations with Romulans, but he raised an open hand in exception, "I assure you this is just a small formality. I simply need to return to my Task Force's base of operations for some supplies and to transfer some personnel. After all, the Forerunner isn't my primary vessel. But when I return we will have everything we need and nothing will stop the negotiations from proceeding as planned."
They glanced among one another again, unconvinced.
Traise merely smiled with a sigh and started them again in the final steps towards the transporter pad, "Relax. I will be back before mid-week and by the end of this all we will have planted the roots for a strong tree of prosperity and peace. One that with any luck will continue to bare fruit for our children."
At last there was one relaxed face among the three. For the Romulans that was as good enough as a smile. "Well, your words have put us at ease for now, but we will all feel as secure as you do about the matter once you've returned."
He stepped on the pad, turned sharply and gave a solid nod. "You have my word." The combadge chimed as he tapped it. "Traise to Forerunner. Ready for beam out."
"Aye, sir."
The air around him flickered and fluttered with the shimmering of a thousand fireflies, but then faded all too quickly; leaving three Romulan council members and Johnathon Traise standing there looking at each other awkwardly. Traise's brow undulated and furrowed as he tapped the combadge again.
"Chief Belu?"
"Sorry, Sir. The emergency fail-safes kicked in. Your signal was too "heavy." It's apparently registering two individuals when we're trying to beam you up. We're trying to clear it up now."
When asked, after the fact, there would be many things that John could claim told him there was a cloaked individual standing behind him with a weapon. It could have been the few short years he had been practicing the martial art of Kendo on Earth as well as in the ship's Holodeck. He could chalk it up to combat experience and the countless away team missions in which he found himself nose to "nose" with very angry (and often smelly) alien warriors who thought battle was best dealt in hand to hand. There was even the small chance that he could pass it off as the effects of a high ESPer rating. But to tell the truth, in that moment, the strongest thing telling John that there was a man behind his back trying to kill him was literary foreshadowing.
With a rather fluid motion John turned and rolled his body, reaching out for an arm that he knew would be there. With a shift of his weight to his hip and the slight shimmer of an effected silhouette John rolled the body over his shoulder, around, and off; over the edge of the platform. There was a scream and the splash of water down at the base of the cliff-face below. After that the only thing John had left to contend with was the confused stares of countless Romulans and passerbies who had stopped in their tracks, bewildered.
"Tal Shiar Assassin," he shrugged casually.
There was a collective and knowing "Aaaah" before everyone went back to business as usual. It was slightly unsettling how accepting of an answer that was to most Romulans these days.
"This is Belu," his combadge spoke again, "Looks like it's gone now, Sir."
"Good," he said pleased, "One to beam up."
With that, he disappeared into a cloud of stars.
As quick as he came John stepped off the transporter pad on board the Forerunner. For now at least work was (mostly) done so it was time to hurry fast to play. As he walked out of the room he quickly pestered the chief for a status update.
"Belu, how much time until we're good to go underway?"
"I... uh... I believe we should be set shortly." The Regilian's tone was her usual caustic, but contained an ounce of question which Traise assumed was due to asking for information out of her responsibilities. She pulled out a PADD and began uploading the final launch information to it. "Short of you beaming back aboard there are only a few final logistics and pickups needed before we head out."
"Good, good," he said while grabbing the PADD already leafing through it as he sped out the door. The Regilian shrugged and went back to work.
The information was the usual supplies needed, supplies borrowed, supplies traded, as well as some personnel requests. Having the 2500 man crew of the Albion split among two vessels temporarily had allowed for some picking and choosing, but the close quarters and confined spaces of a long range science vessel didn't allow for everyone on hand. Two-Hundred and Fifty crewmen. John smiled at the faces in the halls as he passed them, the hurried bustling of final preparations before departure were almost soothing. It was something he missed aboard the much larger Odyssey Class; the ability to bump into someone.
It was that nostalgia and what he would call being "out of practice" that he blamed on not recognizing his Chief Medical Officer until he practically walked into her. She was arguing to another crewman with her back to Traise and it hadn't been until he had gotten close enough to hear her voice that he realized it was her. However, the fact her long blue/black hair that was usually done up in a pony tail was apparently forgoed for a new short bob-cut didn't help matters.
"Dr. Sugun, you've done something different with your hair?"
The woman turned, and incredulously blew up some air at her own bangs, "And I need your permission before choosing my hairstyles?"
He laughed, "No, certainly not." After all, in his mind they may have been dating for almost three years now but she didn't need his permission before changing up her hair. He took a while to get a good look at it. She fidgeted, slightly, at the attention.
"I uh... I'm just finishing up the last bits of these transfers. I caught an error earlier and want to make sure we don't leave with less than we need, even if it is just a short trip to Argo."
"Right, well, carry on. Don't let me keep you." He gave a playful salute along with an equally as playful wink before departing.
Dr. Sugun stared for a moment or two as he left, then rolled her eyes. shrugging it off as a "him" thing and got back to work.
By the time he eventually reached the door to his cabin in the upper decks he had almost finished going over all the prelaunch data on the PADD. However, it was the final "almost" bit that distracted him enough that he didn't notice the absence of the welcome beep before the doors opened, or that they didn't open at all.
With a crack he walked face first into the doors, cradling his nose and the PADD that the collision had almost knocked out of his hands he quickly checked about to make sure nobody noticed. He then glared at the door as if it could actually see the scorn on his face.
"Computer, Open door."
There was a 'Negative,' beep.
He tried again, "Computer. Unlock door."
The negative beep rang out again, this time it was followed by a voice, "Unable to comply."
John sighed, "Why won't you let me into my cabin?"
"-Beep- You have full access to your cabin."
"Then unlock this door so I can go in."
"-Beep- I'm sorry, but you do not have authorization to unlock this door."
He blinked, then squinted accusingly, "Why don't I have authorization to unlock this door? You just said I could."
"-Beep- I'm sorry, I don't understand your inquiry."
"Uhhg, come on, Computer, I thought we programmed you to be smarter than this. You should be able to figure out what I'm asking without playing this 'correctly worded input' game." He took a few moments to rub his sore nose again. "Alright. Computer?"
"-Beep-"
"I have access to my cabin, but you cannot unlock this door?"
"-Beep- I'm sorry, but you do not have authorization to unlock this door."
"Right, you said that." He took a longer sigh, "If I have access to my cabin, why can't you unlock the Captain's Cabin door for me?"
"-Beep- Because that is not your cabin."
He glared steely at the wall, an eyebrow arched, "If that is not my Cabin, then what is?"
The door to the Captain's Cabin opened, and Commander Johnathon Traise poked his head in, tentatively. All the while talking to himself, hoping that hearing it out-loud would help it make more sense.
"Okay... Captain's Cabin. This has to be some kind of joke by Oni, thinking I'm getting to big for my britches with all this diplomacy." He took a few steps in and surveyed the room that was much wider than he was used to; especially aboard the small Forerunner. "Well, it looks like my stuff is here. I'll give his prank that... if it is one." Over at the counter with the mirror he began picking up and looking at the various items. "But, who's all this other stuff belong to?"
"Back from New Romulus?" He heard the voice call out to him before he saw the silhouette of the woman leaving the bathroom in the mirror.
"Dr. Sugun?"
"Oh, Doctor. So formal this evening." Turning he stared with wide eyes as the Betazoid clothed in only a towel stepped closer to him. Her long blue/black hair cascading over the shining clean skin of her bare shoulders.
"Ilana?!"
"You sound surprised, you weren't expecting me to clean up before we began our early celebrations for your diplomatic successes?"
"No, it's... not that at all." He didn't lie. Really... And as his mind already began to act coolly and with discretion in the face of this sudden collection of changes he remembered that he was now dealing with a Betazoid. One with a very good grasp of her abilities.
"What's wrong?" Her eyebrows furrowed, she moved in closer and put what she thought would be a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He was pleased beyond relief that he didn't jump.
"It's... well... you caught me off guard. I didn't expect to see you... looking like that... is all." He laughed a little, scratched his head, and tried to catch the frog in his throat. "There's... well... there's a lot on my mind right now." He wasn't lying. If it wasn't obvious before, the salutes, the cabin, now this. Commander Johnathon Traise was now trespassing on someone else's life. The life of Captain Johnathon Traise. And right now, his girlfriend was caressing his shoulder and leaning up to him clad in only a towel.
"I think I can help you with that." She leaned up and kissed his bottom lip, holding on to it for a few seconds playfully as the man stood in shock.
"Oh boy..."
"Belu, how much time until we're good to go underway?"
"I... uh... I believe we should be set shortly." The Regilian's tone was her usual caustic, but contained an ounce of question which Traise assumed was due to asking for information out of her responsibilities. She pulled out a PADD and began uploading the final launch information to it. "Short of you beaming back aboard there are only a few final logistics and pickups needed before we head out."
"Good, good," he said while grabbing the PADD already leafing through it as he sped out the door. The Regilian shrugged and went back to work.
The information was the usual supplies needed, supplies borrowed, supplies traded, as well as some personnel requests. Having the 2500 man crew of the Albion split among two vessels temporarily had allowed for some picking and choosing, but the close quarters and confined spaces of a long range science vessel didn't allow for everyone on hand. Two-Hundred and Fifty crewmen. John smiled at the faces in the halls as he passed them, the hurried bustling of final preparations before departure were almost soothing. It was something he missed aboard the much larger Odyssey Class; the ability to bump into someone.
It was that nostalgia and what he would call being "out of practice" that he blamed on not recognizing his Chief Medical Officer until he practically walked into her. She was arguing to another crewman with her back to Traise and it hadn't been until he had gotten close enough to hear her voice that he realized it was her. However, the fact her long blue/black hair that was usually done up in a pony tail was apparently forgoed for a new short bob-cut didn't help matters.
"Dr. Sugun, you've done something different with your hair?"
The woman turned, and incredulously blew up some air at her own bangs, "And I need your permission before choosing my hairstyles?"
He laughed, "No, certainly not." After all, in his mind they may have been dating for almost three years now but she didn't need his permission before changing up her hair. He took a while to get a good look at it. She fidgeted, slightly, at the attention.
"I uh... I'm just finishing up the last bits of these transfers. I caught an error earlier and want to make sure we don't leave with less than we need, even if it is just a short trip to Argo."
"Right, well, carry on. Don't let me keep you." He gave a playful salute along with an equally as playful wink before departing.
Dr. Sugun stared for a moment or two as he left, then rolled her eyes. shrugging it off as a "him" thing and got back to work.
By the time he eventually reached the door to his cabin in the upper decks he had almost finished going over all the prelaunch data on the PADD. However, it was the final "almost" bit that distracted him enough that he didn't notice the absence of the welcome beep before the doors opened, or that they didn't open at all.
With a crack he walked face first into the doors, cradling his nose and the PADD that the collision had almost knocked out of his hands he quickly checked about to make sure nobody noticed. He then glared at the door as if it could actually see the scorn on his face.
"Computer, Open door."
There was a 'Negative,' beep.
He tried again, "Computer. Unlock door."
The negative beep rang out again, this time it was followed by a voice, "Unable to comply."
John sighed, "Why won't you let me into my cabin?"
"-Beep- You have full access to your cabin."
"Then unlock this door so I can go in."
"-Beep- I'm sorry, but you do not have authorization to unlock this door."
He blinked, then squinted accusingly, "Why don't I have authorization to unlock this door? You just said I could."
"-Beep- I'm sorry, I don't understand your inquiry."
"Uhhg, come on, Computer, I thought we programmed you to be smarter than this. You should be able to figure out what I'm asking without playing this 'correctly worded input' game." He took a few moments to rub his sore nose again. "Alright. Computer?"
"-Beep-"
"I have access to my cabin, but you cannot unlock this door?"
"-Beep- I'm sorry, but you do not have authorization to unlock this door."
"Right, you said that." He took a longer sigh, "If I have access to my cabin, why can't you unlock the Captain's Cabin door for me?"
"-Beep- Because that is not your cabin."
He glared steely at the wall, an eyebrow arched, "If that is not my Cabin, then what is?"
The door to the Captain's Cabin opened, and Commander Johnathon Traise poked his head in, tentatively. All the while talking to himself, hoping that hearing it out-loud would help it make more sense.
"Okay... Captain's Cabin. This has to be some kind of joke by Oni, thinking I'm getting to big for my britches with all this diplomacy." He took a few steps in and surveyed the room that was much wider than he was used to; especially aboard the small Forerunner. "Well, it looks like my stuff is here. I'll give his prank that... if it is one." Over at the counter with the mirror he began picking up and looking at the various items. "But, who's all this other stuff belong to?"
"Back from New Romulus?" He heard the voice call out to him before he saw the silhouette of the woman leaving the bathroom in the mirror.
"Dr. Sugun?"
"Oh, Doctor. So formal this evening." Turning he stared with wide eyes as the Betazoid clothed in only a towel stepped closer to him. Her long blue/black hair cascading over the shining clean skin of her bare shoulders.
"Ilana?!"
"You sound surprised, you weren't expecting me to clean up before we began our early celebrations for your diplomatic successes?"
"No, it's... not that at all." He didn't lie. Really... And as his mind already began to act coolly and with discretion in the face of this sudden collection of changes he remembered that he was now dealing with a Betazoid. One with a very good grasp of her abilities.
"What's wrong?" Her eyebrows furrowed, she moved in closer and put what she thought would be a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He was pleased beyond relief that he didn't jump.
"It's... well... you caught me off guard. I didn't expect to see you... looking like that... is all." He laughed a little, scratched his head, and tried to catch the frog in his throat. "There's... well... there's a lot on my mind right now." He wasn't lying. If it wasn't obvious before, the salutes, the cabin, now this. Commander Johnathon Traise was now trespassing on someone else's life. The life of Captain Johnathon Traise. And right now, his girlfriend was caressing his shoulder and leaning up to him clad in only a towel.
"I think I can help you with that." She leaned up and kissed his bottom lip, holding on to it for a few seconds playfully as the man stood in shock.
"Oh boy..."
Big or small?
How do you best find the differences between universes? How do you find where things suddenly 'went wrong'?
As Captain Johnathon Traise sat at the console in Stellar Cartography he had broiled looking down to those two options; big or small.
He decided to try both.
As far as he could tell, where he was was mostly the same. There was still the Federation, still the war with the Klingons. On the small scale, he had the same birthday, the same family, the same overly long six years at the academy. He was still on the Forerunner, which meant the Farseer before her had to have been destroyed and the ship's record indicated many of the same encounters, but the listed Captain was wrong. Well, wrong for John.
Captain Selik Onihill, Bolian, Engineering Track. John's best friend and who he has as chief Engineer. As for John, now he was Chief Science Officer. Hell, he wasn't even first officer. Sierra still somehow had that slot.
The only other changes on the roster were minor, but the most pronounced to Traise other than his own was the change in Chief Medical Officer. It wasn't Ilana Sugun (who he happened to have a long term relationship with) but her Twin Sister, Niri Sugun, the one John had tried to avoid during his years at the academy due to her... unwanted attention towards him. The Dr. Sugun he had bumped into in the halls, the one with short hair, had been her. Some part of his subconscious beat himself up for failing to recognize his own lover from her twin sister at close range.
It had been that difference of Sugun's in a way that alerted him to the severity of his situation when he entered Commander Traise's quarters. Smaller, but still the same trinkets, photo frames, but none of Ilana's things. None of his photo's with her. Rationally, at least in his mind, it was her status that he first tried to find difference in other than his own; but a simple posting as a doctor and counselor on some station number he didn't recognize gave little away.
So finally, he found success in focusing on the small. He looked at his record and tried to rebuild it, wondering why he was not a Captain like he was used to, but stopped at Commander (And in no ways in charge of the vessel. His vessel, he told himself). When he found it, he was surprised it wasn't the first place he checked.
"Vega," he said echoing in the cartography room. "The two man away team, lead by Ensign Onihill with Ensign Traise, survived the boarding action via aiding the Khitomer. Ensign Onihill took command of the Albion as ranking officer, do to placement of leadership in the away team..."
That was the difference. John was used to the other way, the way where he was listed on the roster as "Scientific Yeoman" which happened to slot him above Oni. John had never been Acting Captain. Never had his first Captaincy or trial by fire. That instead, went to his friend.
To his friend's defense, his record indicated a good track record and John wasn't surprised. After all, the two of them worked together well and aided where the other's skills failed. Why would that be different here? Oni has the skills of a leader and engineer and John's scientific skills and lateral thinking would be there to back him up... Not to mention, Oni's luck was damn near legendary aboard the ship.
"But why Ilana's differences...?"
Then it hit him... Oni was his best friend, and best friends are sometimes dicks. Not because that is who they are, it's just... what happens. In friendship, they are the ones allowed to jab. After the loss of the command crew John had to refill the ship's roster. In this universe, that would have been Oni. John specifically picked Ilana, his friend, and the woman he had flirted with a relationship at back in the academy before he graduated a semester before her. Her Science skills were lacking but she fit as a medic and ships doctor. Now, would your best friend pick that for you... or her sister he knew would drive you up the walls.
"Born near a warp core my ass..."
It was then the realization sank in. The only reason anything blossomed between John and Ilana was because of the working environment. But here... that never happened. That relationship never formed. Those flowers, the ones they both now cherished, here meant nothing. That hurt more than the loss of a chair. That got his blood boiling and him thinking angry.
"Why?" He leaned back in the chair, talking out-loud to himself. "A joke by a Q?" He looked around, there was no response. Which naturally crossed off that option. A Q would flash in and gloat. Besides, he hadn't had enough of a relationship with any of those omnipotent things to warrant a meeting or any attention. Also, it was the rather hand of god answer and was a bit far-fetched. Perhaps he should look closer to plausibility.
"Insanity?" Talking to yourself helps that one seem possible. It was also the most terrifying. Caused by some toxin, a strange pollen from New Romulus? Or a bug bite? Perhaps it was altering his reality. Worse, perhaps it had been and wore off. A life you knew was only a dream?
Traise shivered, and continued on.
"Alternate dimensions," that one felt the most comforting. It meant somewhere there was a home. That one also had a possible proof. Quantum signatures. If he could get a detailed quantum scan of himself and compare it to the world around him, he could prove that. Perhaps even find a way to go home, let alone figure out how he got here. And since the Mirror Universe Incursions, Quantum Signature scanning is a covered scientific procedure.
He pulled out his tricolor, flipped a few settings, and started. After a few scans to confirm his number, he turned to the console and repeated the process with it as the target.
"Inconclusive. Damn-it." He needed more resolution. The tricorder, and probably everything but the external scanners, couldn't get enough detail in a quantum scan to recognize the difference. That is, if there was one. No, there would be one. There had to be one. The only other thing after that was insanity. He would just need a deeper scan. But where would he get one.
He spun in the chair, rubbing his chin hard, "AG-18... er... whatever." The Argo's science facility. That would have a scanner he could use. But, would being a ship's Chief Science officer be enough to allow using it... Correction, allow using it without getting caught for why. He was already in violation, after all. Believe it or not this kind of thing is covered in starfleet protocol. A full report and being relieved from duty until the situation can be handled.
But he couldn't do that, not with the meetings and diplomatic work on New Romulus so close. Any sneeze and all that work would fall apart. News of this? This would crash the meeting to a flaming sunder. A meeting that was still taking place in this universe as well. He couldn't let it all be for not. And he knew if the other him was anything like him he wouldn't let that happen on his side either.
Urrhhg, he was being hopeful again. Considering it is alternate universes at fault here. It wasn't the most likely, it was the most desired.
"AG." It was back to the matter at hand, ignore that possibility of being wrong for now. He pulled up the Argo records, looking for the facility. And hoping, just hoping... And there it was. The name he was looking for and was excited to see.
"Quaen?" Commander Traise rubbed his chin and leaned back into the Captain's Ready Room chair. It was far more relaxing than he expected. "I know Oni speaks the world of her. Trill... symbiote. Yep, yep. But... Commander? I could have sworn Oni refers to her as Captain. Still, she is in charge of the AG facilities..."
He spun the chair, "But would it work?" Would she buy it and help him. He did have a timeline, after all. Her name was Ilana and she was a woman with psychic powers wondering what was wrong with her captain... literally her captain. He was still surprised he had made it out of there in one piece. There were so many reasons why not thinking of an excuse and ducking out of the room would have been a bad idea. Oh well, the other Johnathon would be in the doghouse after this, but it was probably the better alternative. It would be what he would want after all.
Still, Commander Quaen. Oni mentioned a heart of gold along with that hardline and sure-as-an-arrow nature. A quick read of the file read this one also had some kind of trouble with indictments within the last few months. But, was she a friend. She was a friend of Oni, so why wouldn't she be a friend of him? Especially here.
Nearby, in a long cylindrical column, fish spun counterclockwise and mocked him with their eyes. He'd have to chance it. It was the best chance they had. He had to think in pairs now. What would the other me do? The same as this. The same conclusions. Why? Because I did.
How do you best find the differences between universes? How do you find where things suddenly 'went wrong'?
As Captain Johnathon Traise sat at the console in Stellar Cartography he had broiled looking down to those two options; big or small.
He decided to try both.
As far as he could tell, where he was was mostly the same. There was still the Federation, still the war with the Klingons. On the small scale, he had the same birthday, the same family, the same overly long six years at the academy. He was still on the Forerunner, which meant the Farseer before her had to have been destroyed and the ship's record indicated many of the same encounters, but the listed Captain was wrong. Well, wrong for John.
Captain Selik Onihill, Bolian, Engineering Track. John's best friend and who he has as chief Engineer. As for John, now he was Chief Science Officer. Hell, he wasn't even first officer. Sierra still somehow had that slot.
The only other changes on the roster were minor, but the most pronounced to Traise other than his own was the change in Chief Medical Officer. It wasn't Ilana Sugun (who he happened to have a long term relationship with) but her Twin Sister, Niri Sugun, the one John had tried to avoid during his years at the academy due to her... unwanted attention towards him. The Dr. Sugun he had bumped into in the halls, the one with short hair, had been her. Some part of his subconscious beat himself up for failing to recognize his own lover from her twin sister at close range.
It had been that difference of Sugun's in a way that alerted him to the severity of his situation when he entered Commander Traise's quarters. Smaller, but still the same trinkets, photo frames, but none of Ilana's things. None of his photo's with her. Rationally, at least in his mind, it was her status that he first tried to find difference in other than his own; but a simple posting as a doctor and counselor on some station number he didn't recognize gave little away.
So finally, he found success in focusing on the small. He looked at his record and tried to rebuild it, wondering why he was not a Captain like he was used to, but stopped at Commander (And in no ways in charge of the vessel. His vessel, he told himself). When he found it, he was surprised it wasn't the first place he checked.
"Vega," he said echoing in the cartography room. "The two man away team, lead by Ensign Onihill with Ensign Traise, survived the boarding action via aiding the Khitomer. Ensign Onihill took command of the Albion as ranking officer, do to placement of leadership in the away team..."
That was the difference. John was used to the other way, the way where he was listed on the roster as "Scientific Yeoman" which happened to slot him above Oni. John had never been Acting Captain. Never had his first Captaincy or trial by fire. That instead, went to his friend.
To his friend's defense, his record indicated a good track record and John wasn't surprised. After all, the two of them worked together well and aided where the other's skills failed. Why would that be different here? Oni has the skills of a leader and engineer and John's scientific skills and lateral thinking would be there to back him up... Not to mention, Oni's luck was damn near legendary aboard the ship.
"But why Ilana's differences...?"
Then it hit him... Oni was his best friend, and best friends are sometimes dicks. Not because that is who they are, it's just... what happens. In friendship, they are the ones allowed to jab. After the loss of the command crew John had to refill the ship's roster. In this universe, that would have been Oni. John specifically picked Ilana, his friend, and the woman he had flirted with a relationship at back in the academy before he graduated a semester before her. Her Science skills were lacking but she fit as a medic and ships doctor. Now, would your best friend pick that for you... or her sister he knew would drive you up the walls.
"Born near a warp core my ass..."
It was then the realization sank in. The only reason anything blossomed between John and Ilana was because of the working environment. But here... that never happened. That relationship never formed. Those flowers, the ones they both now cherished, here meant nothing. That hurt more than the loss of a chair. That got his blood boiling and him thinking angry.
"Why?" He leaned back in the chair, talking out-loud to himself. "A joke by a Q?" He looked around, there was no response. Which naturally crossed off that option. A Q would flash in and gloat. Besides, he hadn't had enough of a relationship with any of those omnipotent things to warrant a meeting or any attention. Also, it was the rather hand of god answer and was a bit far-fetched. Perhaps he should look closer to plausibility.
"Insanity?" Talking to yourself helps that one seem possible. It was also the most terrifying. Caused by some toxin, a strange pollen from New Romulus? Or a bug bite? Perhaps it was altering his reality. Worse, perhaps it had been and wore off. A life you knew was only a dream?
Traise shivered, and continued on.
"Alternate dimensions," that one felt the most comforting. It meant somewhere there was a home. That one also had a possible proof. Quantum signatures. If he could get a detailed quantum scan of himself and compare it to the world around him, he could prove that. Perhaps even find a way to go home, let alone figure out how he got here. And since the Mirror Universe Incursions, Quantum Signature scanning is a covered scientific procedure.
He pulled out his tricolor, flipped a few settings, and started. After a few scans to confirm his number, he turned to the console and repeated the process with it as the target.
"Inconclusive. Damn-it." He needed more resolution. The tricorder, and probably everything but the external scanners, couldn't get enough detail in a quantum scan to recognize the difference. That is, if there was one. No, there would be one. There had to be one. The only other thing after that was insanity. He would just need a deeper scan. But where would he get one.
He spun in the chair, rubbing his chin hard, "AG-18... er... whatever." The Argo's science facility. That would have a scanner he could use. But, would being a ship's Chief Science officer be enough to allow using it... Correction, allow using it without getting caught for why. He was already in violation, after all. Believe it or not this kind of thing is covered in starfleet protocol. A full report and being relieved from duty until the situation can be handled.
But he couldn't do that, not with the meetings and diplomatic work on New Romulus so close. Any sneeze and all that work would fall apart. News of this? This would crash the meeting to a flaming sunder. A meeting that was still taking place in this universe as well. He couldn't let it all be for not. And he knew if the other him was anything like him he wouldn't let that happen on his side either.
Urrhhg, he was being hopeful again. Considering it is alternate universes at fault here. It wasn't the most likely, it was the most desired.
"AG." It was back to the matter at hand, ignore that possibility of being wrong for now. He pulled up the Argo records, looking for the facility. And hoping, just hoping... And there it was. The name he was looking for and was excited to see.
"Quaen?" Commander Traise rubbed his chin and leaned back into the Captain's Ready Room chair. It was far more relaxing than he expected. "I know Oni speaks the world of her. Trill... symbiote. Yep, yep. But... Commander? I could have sworn Oni refers to her as Captain. Still, she is in charge of the AG facilities..."
He spun the chair, "But would it work?" Would she buy it and help him. He did have a timeline, after all. Her name was Ilana and she was a woman with psychic powers wondering what was wrong with her captain... literally her captain. He was still surprised he had made it out of there in one piece. There were so many reasons why not thinking of an excuse and ducking out of the room would have been a bad idea. Oh well, the other Johnathon would be in the doghouse after this, but it was probably the better alternative. It would be what he would want after all.
Still, Commander Quaen. Oni mentioned a heart of gold along with that hardline and sure-as-an-arrow nature. A quick read of the file read this one also had some kind of trouble with indictments within the last few months. But, was she a friend. She was a friend of Oni, so why wouldn't she be a friend of him? Especially here.
Nearby, in a long cylindrical column, fish spun counterclockwise and mocked him with their eyes. He'd have to chance it. It was the best chance they had. He had to think in pairs now. What would the other me do? The same as this. The same conclusions. Why? Because I did.
"Captain, we're approaching Outpost Argo now."
"Excellent, Ensign Terrok," Traise responded. "Take us in to docking range."
"Aye, Sir."
The Captain took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks as he exhaled. The display wasn't lost on the Chief Engineer, Onihill, who was acting as XO due to the personnel shifts between two vessels. While he didn't know it, the John standing next to him was normally used to things being the exact opposite way around.
"You look like this is the part you are worried about? I thought it was the calm before the diplomatic storm?"
"What? Heh, yeah... I guess."
The answer wasn't good enough for Oni, but he didn't pry.
"Listen, when we get in you can see to taking care of all the transfers and getting things set so we can be underway, right? I would like to beam over to Argo myself and deal with some things personally."
"Why does that sound like you are asking for permission?" the Bolian laughed. Traise faked his.
"Yeah, well, I figure you like hiding out of the eyes of responsibility down in Engineering." It was in truth a guess. "Didn't want you to get too flustered by me asking you to deal with the job of being the Boss."
"Heh, what is it? You don't think I can do Sierra's job?"
John opened his mouth to supply a rebuttal, but was cut off by Commander Noemi, who was playing Comms officer.
"Speaking of Commander Sierra, Sir, do you want me to see if I can get a hold of her or the Honshu?"
There was a dread pause from Traise. His face was placid, and there wasn't a mind reader on the bridge so it looked like nothing more than a stall of thought rather than a sudden unexpected rush of them. Dealing with Commander Sierra wasn't something he had considered, nor something he wanted to do.
"No," he said calmly, "I don't think that will be necessary."
To the few on the bridge that knew the patterns of the Captain, this was an odd action. Throughout the entire crew split whenever at Argo Traise had made a point of seeing Commander Sierra while she was serving as Acting Captain of the Honshu and Arbalest. They knew she was there to deal with Razor if he showed while they were gone to Tau Dewa. The Captain and her always kept each other informed. If whatever was eating the Captain was enough for him to choose not to meet with his Number One, it had to be serious. Their glances to one another were discrete and silent.
"We're clear to dock, Sir."
"Excellent. I'll be beaming over to the station," he started for the turbolift. "If anyone needs me..." He tapped on his combadge to signify its use, but in truth... he had hit it to turn it off.
_______________________________________________________
Aboard Outpost Argo the Captain now Commander was already missing his rights to complete delegation. Not that he minded being asked to do work... like run all of the transfers and make sure everything was in place for their departure... he just had more pressing issues on his mind. Like finding Commander... no... Captain Quaen.
With his work underway or mostly delegated to the officers under him (which is how this all should work anyways) he now had his personal leave to walk about the station. He was using it to find his old friend, who in this universe may not even know his name. Still, things were mostly the same so he was off to the same spots, they were the best bets after all.
By the time he was nearing the main ops lobby a familiar voice calling to him caught him off guard.
"Commander Traise," It was Commander Sierra, the Albion's first officer. At least, her records looked about the same when he had checked it. John was opening his mouth to attempt pleasantries before a quick excuse to leave but Commander Sierra's authoritative voice preempted him. "Commander, if I may have a word with you?" She motioned to a narrower side hallway, the shadows looming indicated a discrete conversation.
Already as they moved over Traise was frantic with what could possibly be going on. He knew Sierra was a smart girl and cleverer than pack of wolves but there was no way she had figured out what was going on already. Just in case, John was already thinking of scores of excuses and options when he rounded the corner, but he was in no way prepared for what she was about to do.
No sooner than they had stopped eye to eye than she reached up and grabbed him violently by both sides of his opened collar and forced him back against the wall.
He tried to struggle and let out a protest, "Sierra?! What are you-" but it was at that moment she kissed him.
It literally took his breath away, possibly because he wasn't expecting it but more likely she was an aggressive kisser, apparently. By the time she broke the kiss, took a breath herself, and stared him down with those hungry eyes all of John's thoughts had train wrecked and the only two words left in his head were...
"Oh... boy..."
"Excellent, Ensign Terrok," Traise responded. "Take us in to docking range."
"Aye, Sir."
The Captain took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks as he exhaled. The display wasn't lost on the Chief Engineer, Onihill, who was acting as XO due to the personnel shifts between two vessels. While he didn't know it, the John standing next to him was normally used to things being the exact opposite way around.
"You look like this is the part you are worried about? I thought it was the calm before the diplomatic storm?"
"What? Heh, yeah... I guess."
The answer wasn't good enough for Oni, but he didn't pry.
"Listen, when we get in you can see to taking care of all the transfers and getting things set so we can be underway, right? I would like to beam over to Argo myself and deal with some things personally."
"Why does that sound like you are asking for permission?" the Bolian laughed. Traise faked his.
"Yeah, well, I figure you like hiding out of the eyes of responsibility down in Engineering." It was in truth a guess. "Didn't want you to get too flustered by me asking you to deal with the job of being the Boss."
"Heh, what is it? You don't think I can do Sierra's job?"
John opened his mouth to supply a rebuttal, but was cut off by Commander Noemi, who was playing Comms officer.
"Speaking of Commander Sierra, Sir, do you want me to see if I can get a hold of her or the Honshu?"
There was a dread pause from Traise. His face was placid, and there wasn't a mind reader on the bridge so it looked like nothing more than a stall of thought rather than a sudden unexpected rush of them. Dealing with Commander Sierra wasn't something he had considered, nor something he wanted to do.
"No," he said calmly, "I don't think that will be necessary."
To the few on the bridge that knew the patterns of the Captain, this was an odd action. Throughout the entire crew split whenever at Argo Traise had made a point of seeing Commander Sierra while she was serving as Acting Captain of the Honshu and Arbalest. They knew she was there to deal with Razor if he showed while they were gone to Tau Dewa. The Captain and her always kept each other informed. If whatever was eating the Captain was enough for him to choose not to meet with his Number One, it had to be serious. Their glances to one another were discrete and silent.
"We're clear to dock, Sir."
"Excellent. I'll be beaming over to the station," he started for the turbolift. "If anyone needs me..." He tapped on his combadge to signify its use, but in truth... he had hit it to turn it off.
_______________________________________________________
Aboard Outpost Argo the Captain now Commander was already missing his rights to complete delegation. Not that he minded being asked to do work... like run all of the transfers and make sure everything was in place for their departure... he just had more pressing issues on his mind. Like finding Commander... no... Captain Quaen.
With his work underway or mostly delegated to the officers under him (which is how this all should work anyways) he now had his personal leave to walk about the station. He was using it to find his old friend, who in this universe may not even know his name. Still, things were mostly the same so he was off to the same spots, they were the best bets after all.
By the time he was nearing the main ops lobby a familiar voice calling to him caught him off guard.
"Commander Traise," It was Commander Sierra, the Albion's first officer. At least, her records looked about the same when he had checked it. John was opening his mouth to attempt pleasantries before a quick excuse to leave but Commander Sierra's authoritative voice preempted him. "Commander, if I may have a word with you?" She motioned to a narrower side hallway, the shadows looming indicated a discrete conversation.
Already as they moved over Traise was frantic with what could possibly be going on. He knew Sierra was a smart girl and cleverer than pack of wolves but there was no way she had figured out what was going on already. Just in case, John was already thinking of scores of excuses and options when he rounded the corner, but he was in no way prepared for what she was about to do.
No sooner than they had stopped eye to eye than she reached up and grabbed him violently by both sides of his opened collar and forced him back against the wall.
He tried to struggle and let out a protest, "Sierra?! What are you-" but it was at that moment she kissed him.
It literally took his breath away, possibly because he wasn't expecting it but more likely she was an aggressive kisser, apparently. By the time she broke the kiss, took a breath herself, and stared him down with those hungry eyes all of John's thoughts had train wrecked and the only two words left in his head were...
"Oh... boy..."
He almost called her 'Chassy'. Almost. That would have been a mistake. Almost as bad as calling her Commander.
"Uhm, Quaen?"
The trill looked up from the console in the Outpost Lobby and over at Traise. She gave an appraising look; taking him in an counting his pips. "Yes, I'm Captain Quaen. Can I help you, Commander?"
Traise gave a quick salute and was grateful after a certain point in his career they became instinctual, "I hope so, uhm... I'm Commander Traise, of the Albion. I serve under Captain Onihill as Chief Science Officer."
Her mood shifted as one of her eyebrows raised with a warm smirk, "Ah, Commander Sierra's Traise."
John's face flushed and he coughed a bit, his encounter with Sierra only being minutes before. "Yeah... apparently," he murmured.
"She and Oni both speak very highly of you. So, what can I do for you?"
There was a brief pause as Traise filed through the different conversations he rehearsed in his head, searching for the best one for the situation. "Ma'am, you'd... consider Captain Oni a friend, right?"
"Of course," there was no hesitation and it was a solid response. Still, despite it not being in her voice John could hear the inflections of suspicion in his head. "He's a good captain, a brilliant engineer, and absolutely terrifying when it comes to card games. It would be a lie if I didn't say I owed him, too. Why do you ask?"
John, licked his lips, tasting the words before he said them. "What if, I told you..." he stopped himself. No, now wasn't the right time to tell her right out. " ... that you have a friend who needs your help."
A brow arched, a seriousness cooled across her face. "How immediate are we talking?"
John thought for a second, looking off into his head at the answer. "A bit," he nodded.
"Then I would say that I would like to know more. I assume you would like to go somewhere where we can talk?" She pointed up to the Lounge. For the sake of solidarity Traise prayed that it was still called Akbar's.
By the time they had found an isolated seat by the large open windows, on one of those red curved seats, they had both waved off drinks and gotten their minds set in the serious setting of a delicate conversation. Traise sat on the end of a curve, so that although he wasn't sitting across from her directly he still faced her in the conversation.
"Oni, is a good friend... and you trust him?"
She nodded, but it was the hesitant nod one gives whenever they are asked the question of trust and first suspect they shouldn't, "He needs my help?"
"In a way." He craned his neck, "This, definitely involves him. And taking care of it will really help him."
"I'm not following."
" What if I told you I could be your friend too..."
The face was stone, spotted on the sides with onyx.
"... or was."
The stone lips moved, "I don't get where you are coming from."
Traise shifted his weight and ruffled his hair a bit nervously, "Hypothetically speaking, given... different circumstances... you and I could have had the opportunity to have been friends. Just as close as you are to Oni."
There was a relaxedness to her motions as she spoke, but the keen suspicion in her mind never left, "Hypothetically anything is possible, how does the 'hypothetical' pertain here?"
"What if I told you I was your friend, in a different world?" he banked on the coin of phrase, "...in a different universe?"
He looked up at her hopefully through his brow, already he could tell the tenseness the last word had triggered. The wire vibrated and the wind died like it did in the air of a standoff; their hands, at their sides, didn't so much as flinch.
John took a deep breath and said 'screw it', it was now or never. Might as well run with it. "I think... I may be from a different universe." His hand shot up in a point, "But before you call me in to security-!"
Quaen was almost to her feet, her right hand centimeters from her combadge.
"Imagine in that universe you hadn't woken up when you joined with Chassy."
Quaen remained frozen, but now it all moved internally.
"Imagine that you hadn't been awake when you were transfered to that little girl, that injuries from the crash had put you into a coma. Imagine that you spent your years in the academy without Quaen's solidarity of will; confidence. And that one day while aboard the vessel you were serving on your captain was lost and a scared Young Skyler had to take command," he kept his eyes locked on hers, "just like I once did."
Quaen sat down, listening to Chassy.
"I can't speak for her, for you... but I consider you one of my closest friends. And I would like to think I helped you in some way through that. Even if my belief in you wasn't as well received or believed by you yourself." There was another pause, Quaen cooled but was still armed like a loaded torpedo. "Now, I need help and you are the only person I can think to turn to. So, if you won't do it for me, do it for the sake of your friendship with Oni."
The response was immediate, "Give me one good reason why I don't call you in, right now."
"Because if you do the work of this Johnathon Traise and Oni with the Diplomacy on New Romulus falls apart. I can't let that happen, not after all the work that has gone into it and how close it is." He ran a hand through his hair, "If I report this than we both know the regulations, I get canned and detained until a solution is found. If it is even the case that I am from another universe."
"What do you need from me?" Quaen wasn't agreeing, but was merely toying with what the idea entails.
"If I am from another universe I can't get a detailed enough scan from the Forerunner's equipment to give an accurate reading of my quantum signature. The AG facilities have what I need but I need your help, and approval, to gain access and use them."
"Who have you told?"
John was for the first time hopeful, it was an improvement of attitude, "No one, just you. Again, it's a breach of protocol and I don't want to bring anyone I don't need to into it. Plausible deniability."
Quaen nodded, approvingly. "But yet you involve me."
"Well, you can still turn me in, but like I said I need your help and your the only one I can think of who can make that happen."
There was silence as Quaen appraised it all, thinking on every facet, digging through literal lifetimes of experience. John didn't push anything, and sat patiently.
"I will not do anything unless you relieve yourself from your Starfleet duties."
"Fair enough, Oni doesn't need me to fly the ship anyways"
"And you need to tell Ithiliel."
"Commander Sierra?" John tilted his neck to the side and started shaking it, "I can't do that."
"Why? If she trusts her Traise she'll probably trust you too. She is a capable officer with access to a ship and I have no doubt will do everything she can to help. Besides, she deserves to know who you are," The voice was suddenly frigid,"...and aren't."
He looked to the sides as if hoping for an escape, "Listen, I just had my first encounter with... that. In my universe it is a completely different situation. I've already had to lie to her to avoid a really, really bad situation. And I know in my universe the other me has had to do the same thing to the woman I love. Please, while I trust Sierra don't force me to make this worse for everyone."
There was a pause as Quaen went through another round of appraisals. A few times she glanced back up at him and squinted, as if to find some detail or string off of his outline to pull and unravel him.
At long last she spoke, "Alright, but I will be with you every step of the way and you will answer every question I have. No secrets. No hesitation. If I have even the slightest inclining that you-"
Traise finally was able to breath again, "Okay, great. I can do that! Not a problem."
"Then we leave for the facility right now."
They both stood up and already Traise was feeling the glimmer of hope that this was going to actually somehow work out. As they started for the ramp Quaen had her first question.
"So, in your universe, you aren't romantically involved with Commander Sierra?"
"Trust me, if you think that is strange, I'm trying to picture the look on the Quaen I know's face if she finds out there is a universe where I am."
"Uhm, Quaen?"
The trill looked up from the console in the Outpost Lobby and over at Traise. She gave an appraising look; taking him in an counting his pips. "Yes, I'm Captain Quaen. Can I help you, Commander?"
Traise gave a quick salute and was grateful after a certain point in his career they became instinctual, "I hope so, uhm... I'm Commander Traise, of the Albion. I serve under Captain Onihill as Chief Science Officer."
Her mood shifted as one of her eyebrows raised with a warm smirk, "Ah, Commander Sierra's Traise."
John's face flushed and he coughed a bit, his encounter with Sierra only being minutes before. "Yeah... apparently," he murmured.
"She and Oni both speak very highly of you. So, what can I do for you?"
There was a brief pause as Traise filed through the different conversations he rehearsed in his head, searching for the best one for the situation. "Ma'am, you'd... consider Captain Oni a friend, right?"
"Of course," there was no hesitation and it was a solid response. Still, despite it not being in her voice John could hear the inflections of suspicion in his head. "He's a good captain, a brilliant engineer, and absolutely terrifying when it comes to card games. It would be a lie if I didn't say I owed him, too. Why do you ask?"
John, licked his lips, tasting the words before he said them. "What if, I told you..." he stopped himself. No, now wasn't the right time to tell her right out. " ... that you have a friend who needs your help."
A brow arched, a seriousness cooled across her face. "How immediate are we talking?"
John thought for a second, looking off into his head at the answer. "A bit," he nodded.
"Then I would say that I would like to know more. I assume you would like to go somewhere where we can talk?" She pointed up to the Lounge. For the sake of solidarity Traise prayed that it was still called Akbar's.
By the time they had found an isolated seat by the large open windows, on one of those red curved seats, they had both waved off drinks and gotten their minds set in the serious setting of a delicate conversation. Traise sat on the end of a curve, so that although he wasn't sitting across from her directly he still faced her in the conversation.
"Oni, is a good friend... and you trust him?"
She nodded, but it was the hesitant nod one gives whenever they are asked the question of trust and first suspect they shouldn't, "He needs my help?"
"In a way." He craned his neck, "This, definitely involves him. And taking care of it will really help him."
"I'm not following."
" What if I told you I could be your friend too..."
The face was stone, spotted on the sides with onyx.
"... or was."
The stone lips moved, "I don't get where you are coming from."
Traise shifted his weight and ruffled his hair a bit nervously, "Hypothetically speaking, given... different circumstances... you and I could have had the opportunity to have been friends. Just as close as you are to Oni."
There was a relaxedness to her motions as she spoke, but the keen suspicion in her mind never left, "Hypothetically anything is possible, how does the 'hypothetical' pertain here?"
"What if I told you I was your friend, in a different world?" he banked on the coin of phrase, "...in a different universe?"
He looked up at her hopefully through his brow, already he could tell the tenseness the last word had triggered. The wire vibrated and the wind died like it did in the air of a standoff; their hands, at their sides, didn't so much as flinch.
John took a deep breath and said 'screw it', it was now or never. Might as well run with it. "I think... I may be from a different universe." His hand shot up in a point, "But before you call me in to security-!"
Quaen was almost to her feet, her right hand centimeters from her combadge.
"Imagine in that universe you hadn't woken up when you joined with Chassy."
Quaen remained frozen, but now it all moved internally.
"Imagine that you hadn't been awake when you were transfered to that little girl, that injuries from the crash had put you into a coma. Imagine that you spent your years in the academy without Quaen's solidarity of will; confidence. And that one day while aboard the vessel you were serving on your captain was lost and a scared Young Skyler had to take command," he kept his eyes locked on hers, "just like I once did."
Quaen sat down, listening to Chassy.
"I can't speak for her, for you... but I consider you one of my closest friends. And I would like to think I helped you in some way through that. Even if my belief in you wasn't as well received or believed by you yourself." There was another pause, Quaen cooled but was still armed like a loaded torpedo. "Now, I need help and you are the only person I can think to turn to. So, if you won't do it for me, do it for the sake of your friendship with Oni."
The response was immediate, "Give me one good reason why I don't call you in, right now."
"Because if you do the work of this Johnathon Traise and Oni with the Diplomacy on New Romulus falls apart. I can't let that happen, not after all the work that has gone into it and how close it is." He ran a hand through his hair, "If I report this than we both know the regulations, I get canned and detained until a solution is found. If it is even the case that I am from another universe."
"What do you need from me?" Quaen wasn't agreeing, but was merely toying with what the idea entails.
"If I am from another universe I can't get a detailed enough scan from the Forerunner's equipment to give an accurate reading of my quantum signature. The AG facilities have what I need but I need your help, and approval, to gain access and use them."
"Who have you told?"
John was for the first time hopeful, it was an improvement of attitude, "No one, just you. Again, it's a breach of protocol and I don't want to bring anyone I don't need to into it. Plausible deniability."
Quaen nodded, approvingly. "But yet you involve me."
"Well, you can still turn me in, but like I said I need your help and your the only one I can think of who can make that happen."
There was silence as Quaen appraised it all, thinking on every facet, digging through literal lifetimes of experience. John didn't push anything, and sat patiently.
"I will not do anything unless you relieve yourself from your Starfleet duties."
"Fair enough, Oni doesn't need me to fly the ship anyways"
"And you need to tell Ithiliel."
"Commander Sierra?" John tilted his neck to the side and started shaking it, "I can't do that."
"Why? If she trusts her Traise she'll probably trust you too. She is a capable officer with access to a ship and I have no doubt will do everything she can to help. Besides, she deserves to know who you are," The voice was suddenly frigid,"...and aren't."
He looked to the sides as if hoping for an escape, "Listen, I just had my first encounter with... that. In my universe it is a completely different situation. I've already had to lie to her to avoid a really, really bad situation. And I know in my universe the other me has had to do the same thing to the woman I love. Please, while I trust Sierra don't force me to make this worse for everyone."
There was a pause as Quaen went through another round of appraisals. A few times she glanced back up at him and squinted, as if to find some detail or string off of his outline to pull and unravel him.
At long last she spoke, "Alright, but I will be with you every step of the way and you will answer every question I have. No secrets. No hesitation. If I have even the slightest inclining that you-"
Traise finally was able to breath again, "Okay, great. I can do that! Not a problem."
"Then we leave for the facility right now."
They both stood up and already Traise was feeling the glimmer of hope that this was going to actually somehow work out. As they started for the ramp Quaen had her first question.
"So, in your universe, you aren't romantically involved with Commander Sierra?"
"Trust me, if you think that is strange, I'm trying to picture the look on the Quaen I know's face if she finds out there is a universe where I am."
There was always something in Traise's head that made him think scanning would tickle. It never did. It was always simply a bunch of flashing lights and show. But then again, if a scan did tickle, that would perhaps be a bad sign.
After a few more seconds it was over and he made his way back to the console where Quaen was watching the system work, warily.
"Did it work?" she asked.
"We'll find out in a second," Traise arrived, and started pulling up the results on the screen. He duck quickly through the data, until he found what he was looking for. When he did, he spoke calmly and nonchalantly, but inside he was damn near exploding with relief that he wasn't in fact insane. "There we are. Well, that settles it, I'm from another universe. Off by point-zero-zero-zero-six."
"So. How do we get you back?" Traise couldn't tell which 'you' she was referring to.
"I don't know, but it gives us something to work with. Now I know exactly what I am looking for." He pulled up another window on the second screen and began two different paths of search at once. One was a direct archive search for the specific quantum signature, a random string of numbers to anyone not in the know. The second was on quantum displacements and other known and experienced phenomena. "It will help more though when we finally figure out how I got here."
Chassy Quaen followed over his shoulder, reading along with the different searches and results. Names like Quantum Numbers, Quantum Realities, Quantum Flux, Quantum fissures, Warp Fields, Teleporter malfunctions, Singularity Cores. Traise was more scanning and quick briefing than reading, but occasionally would stop and pursue a different subject when something caught his eye. Both screens doing something different.
Then the search flagged something John found interesting, he repeated that fact out loud, "Interesting."
"What is it?"
"A 40 year old log report, from... Lieutenant Worf of the Enterprise? That's odd..."
"What, Worf of House Martok? You didn't know he was once a member of starfleet?"
"No, I knew that, I just... thought he was a Commander." Something clicked in John's head, he suddenly used one of the screens to make a search in the Starfleet Academy Remote Database. With the other he skimmed through the detailed report filed by Lt. Worf. The more he read, the more he began to grin.
"Commander Quaen, tell me, do you have a favorite captain of the Enterprise?"
Quaen stopped and blinked a few times quickly, she then cooled and rather sternly replied, "While I know some people have their reservations I have always been of the opinion that Captain Riker was among the best."
Traise grinned. Already his left hand was searching with the console for yet another file.
"While true his service in that role started off in difficult circumstances over the span of his career as a Captain proved his merit and his ability to learn the diplomatic nuances of the Enterprise-D's first captain as well as the stern and confident leadership style needed for command." Quaen then hesitated, as if to cover all bases while being posed a historically difficult question for any starfleet officer, "However, I did find the Career of Captain Jean-Luc Picard, his predecessor, to have been promising. I admired his diplomatic tact. Perhaps if he hadn't been assimilated by the Borg his legacy would have been different instead of what he left as Locutus."
"You see, and that's where I'm different!" Traise sounded excited, "Picard is my favorite. And I got a feeling, in my universe, he'd be yours too. Because in my universe," by now the records of this universe's Battle of Wolf 359 were displayed on the left screen, "First Officer Commander Riker was able to save Captain Picard who went on commanding the Enterprise for years after."
"So, in your universe Riker was able to save Picard? That's what's different?"
"No... I don't think that's necessarily it. Here," he now pulled up the goal of the Academy Archive search, "This was a paper I wrote back in the academy. "Advanced Theory on the Kharmetic Relation of Quantum Numbers Between Different Quantum Universes."
Quaen's eyes had a dead look to them.
"Catchy title, I know," he rolled his eyes, "It dealt with the nature of quantum numbers and why, despite how mathematically improbable it was, quantum numbers remained static between universes instead of being dynamic and constantly changing."
Quaen gave him a hard look, "Explain that a little better. And this time assume I didn't undergo advanced courses in quantum mechanics."
"Right, listen. If our ideas of quantum universes are correct, based on the encounters recorded in our archives we live in an expanding universe of different parallel quantum universes. All things happening at the same time but across different places. All based on individual changes and choices made between them. Like, choosing to like Coke or Pepsi."
"What?"
"Err, sorry, old Earth expression."
"All right, I do understand the basics of parallel universes, but not the mathematical intricacies of it. What you were trying to explain as being dynamic or static."
"Right, so, if our theories about parallel universes are true, than there should always be a growing distance between them. After every difference, say, 100 years ago, our universes could be completely different. However, despite that, information proves that quantum numbers are static and universes with very similar quantum numbers are in fact, very similar. If things were always spreading out from the individual changes, then our universes could have nothing related to one another."
"Okay, I believe I am following."
"Anyways, sure there is room in the mathematics of it all to have an explanation, but in my paper here I proposed that the static relations were do to a form of 'kharmetic link' and that there were certain themes or common occurrences that are particular to a universe." There was a pause. "My professors hated it. I think because I used the word Kharmetic but I don't blame them. It was back in my third year. Not very scientific. But still..."
John turned, leaned back, and sat on the console before speaking again, "Imagine this, your universe, this one, as far as I can tell has had a common theme of different command officers. Riker was forced to defeat Picard without saving him. Because you never went into a coma between your last host and Skyler you were appointed a command instead of being forced into one via a battlefield commission. And Oni took command of the Albion, not me."
Quaen looked through all the data piling up on the screen, as odd and strange as it sounds it was picking up a lot of supporting evidence.
"Look, I was probably wrong with my paper, but there definitely is a 'theme' if you can call it that about this universe. Say, remember when we were walking in and I was commenting on your Commodore, the one Ashland replaced?"
Quaens face looked at him and sombered, "Hassiri."
"Right, I know him, in my universe, but I know things are really different. For example," he now pulled up yet another mission report, "It says here that Task Force Hippocrates was saved by Captain Hassiri's quick thinking and unconventional plans."
"Yes, it is what he is most famous for."
Traise was looking excited and as she heard what he was saying Quaen found that excitement more insulting, "You see! In my universe it didn't. While no one talks to him much about it we all know the loss had a big effect on him, he hasn't been the same since."
Quaen let the anger subside to sadness, Traise only now picked it up. His brow flexed as he stared perplexed.
"In your universe, are Hassiri and I romantically involved?"
John choked. It wasn't as much the shock of the idea but more how blunt and calm Quaen was being about their personal life. He blinked a few times and craned his neck as he wrestled with this new bit of information. "No... no you're not."
The complex look on Quaen's face as she processed this was, difficult to read.
"But... I do find it interesting that in both our universes you are involved with a commodore who happens to go AWOL in spectacular fashion. You were seeing our former commodore, Razor, in our universe too."
"Commander R'zo-vek? The security chief? Interesting."
"You know him?!"
"Yes, he's chief of security for Outpost Argo, transfered from the Toronto. Although it strikes me as odd to picture him as Commodore. He is rather infamous for shirking duty."
"Yeah, well, ours is too. So no surprise there," Traise was finally relaxed enough to continue searching.
"Still, you say my counterpart is dating him." The was the look of analytical pondering across her face, "I suppose, if the fur does go all the way down..."
Traise almost fell over. He stumbled into the console and stared at Quaen like she was an alien from another dimension; the realization that was a completely true fact didn't help much. Quaen, Chassy Skyler Quaen, had just said the most open thing about any of her relationships that he had ever heard. And she didn't even change color. Traise was terrified, mortified. He felt the Quaen from his own universe would somehow kill him just for overhearing that from a double. Alternate universe be damned, he was a dead man anyways.
"I need to get out of here," he mused. Quickly he finished what he needed from the searches and began to upload them to an unmarked data stick.
"So do you have an idea how?"
"No, but I got a feeling that largely depends on finding out how I got here. Still, now we know the truth. I am from another universe. That narrows it down." He pulled out the drive, "This should be enough for now, if I need more I will be in contact with you."
"Where are you going?"
"Back to the Forerunner and then New Romulus. I have those diplomatic meetings to save, no matter the universe, remember?"
"You still need to relieve yourself from your command position," the tone was that of an order, not a suggestion.
"I know, I know. I'll take care of it. Hopefully by the time I reach Tau Dewa I know how I got here." He filed away the stick into a pocket and then finished wiping out the consoles search history. "And Chassy..." John stopped himself, he needed to remember this one didn't know him as a friend yet, "Quaen, thanks."
"You're still here. Don't thank me until you can go home."
Hidden away, in the pungent deeps of Outpost Argo, was a small room that was kept remarkably colder than the rest of the station. There were numerous reasons why other staff avoided it. Walls of screens displayed various places through out the station while others showed lines of data, and another a bad earth movie. A mess of personal items crowed what should be considered a work station and tacky pinups of different alien women, scantly clad, hung from a few displays. In the center of it all a solitary man grinned as he read through the list of active searches through the station archives. Even if you delete the records of the consoles you accessed, someone can still see what you searched.
As he read through the file names, 'quantum flux', a search for a random number, a really long and stupid sounding title for an academy research project, he couldn't help but smile and let his pointed canines show. It was when he read the file that the search pulled up however, about a starfleet officer's personal account of dealing with a set of alternate universes that the man's major vice showed and he began to talk to himself.
"Interesting, t'eh."
After a few more seconds it was over and he made his way back to the console where Quaen was watching the system work, warily.
"Did it work?" she asked.
"We'll find out in a second," Traise arrived, and started pulling up the results on the screen. He duck quickly through the data, until he found what he was looking for. When he did, he spoke calmly and nonchalantly, but inside he was damn near exploding with relief that he wasn't in fact insane. "There we are. Well, that settles it, I'm from another universe. Off by point-zero-zero-zero-six."
"So. How do we get you back?" Traise couldn't tell which 'you' she was referring to.
"I don't know, but it gives us something to work with. Now I know exactly what I am looking for." He pulled up another window on the second screen and began two different paths of search at once. One was a direct archive search for the specific quantum signature, a random string of numbers to anyone not in the know. The second was on quantum displacements and other known and experienced phenomena. "It will help more though when we finally figure out how I got here."
Chassy Quaen followed over his shoulder, reading along with the different searches and results. Names like Quantum Numbers, Quantum Realities, Quantum Flux, Quantum fissures, Warp Fields, Teleporter malfunctions, Singularity Cores. Traise was more scanning and quick briefing than reading, but occasionally would stop and pursue a different subject when something caught his eye. Both screens doing something different.
Then the search flagged something John found interesting, he repeated that fact out loud, "Interesting."
"What is it?"
"A 40 year old log report, from... Lieutenant Worf of the Enterprise? That's odd..."
"What, Worf of House Martok? You didn't know he was once a member of starfleet?"
"No, I knew that, I just... thought he was a Commander." Something clicked in John's head, he suddenly used one of the screens to make a search in the Starfleet Academy Remote Database. With the other he skimmed through the detailed report filed by Lt. Worf. The more he read, the more he began to grin.
"Commander Quaen, tell me, do you have a favorite captain of the Enterprise?"
Quaen stopped and blinked a few times quickly, she then cooled and rather sternly replied, "While I know some people have their reservations I have always been of the opinion that Captain Riker was among the best."
Traise grinned. Already his left hand was searching with the console for yet another file.
"While true his service in that role started off in difficult circumstances over the span of his career as a Captain proved his merit and his ability to learn the diplomatic nuances of the Enterprise-D's first captain as well as the stern and confident leadership style needed for command." Quaen then hesitated, as if to cover all bases while being posed a historically difficult question for any starfleet officer, "However, I did find the Career of Captain Jean-Luc Picard, his predecessor, to have been promising. I admired his diplomatic tact. Perhaps if he hadn't been assimilated by the Borg his legacy would have been different instead of what he left as Locutus."
"You see, and that's where I'm different!" Traise sounded excited, "Picard is my favorite. And I got a feeling, in my universe, he'd be yours too. Because in my universe," by now the records of this universe's Battle of Wolf 359 were displayed on the left screen, "First Officer Commander Riker was able to save Captain Picard who went on commanding the Enterprise for years after."
"So, in your universe Riker was able to save Picard? That's what's different?"
"No... I don't think that's necessarily it. Here," he now pulled up the goal of the Academy Archive search, "This was a paper I wrote back in the academy. "Advanced Theory on the Kharmetic Relation of Quantum Numbers Between Different Quantum Universes."
Quaen's eyes had a dead look to them.
"Catchy title, I know," he rolled his eyes, "It dealt with the nature of quantum numbers and why, despite how mathematically improbable it was, quantum numbers remained static between universes instead of being dynamic and constantly changing."
Quaen gave him a hard look, "Explain that a little better. And this time assume I didn't undergo advanced courses in quantum mechanics."
"Right, listen. If our ideas of quantum universes are correct, based on the encounters recorded in our archives we live in an expanding universe of different parallel quantum universes. All things happening at the same time but across different places. All based on individual changes and choices made between them. Like, choosing to like Coke or Pepsi."
"What?"
"Err, sorry, old Earth expression."
"All right, I do understand the basics of parallel universes, but not the mathematical intricacies of it. What you were trying to explain as being dynamic or static."
"Right, so, if our theories about parallel universes are true, than there should always be a growing distance between them. After every difference, say, 100 years ago, our universes could be completely different. However, despite that, information proves that quantum numbers are static and universes with very similar quantum numbers are in fact, very similar. If things were always spreading out from the individual changes, then our universes could have nothing related to one another."
"Okay, I believe I am following."
"Anyways, sure there is room in the mathematics of it all to have an explanation, but in my paper here I proposed that the static relations were do to a form of 'kharmetic link' and that there were certain themes or common occurrences that are particular to a universe." There was a pause. "My professors hated it. I think because I used the word Kharmetic but I don't blame them. It was back in my third year. Not very scientific. But still..."
John turned, leaned back, and sat on the console before speaking again, "Imagine this, your universe, this one, as far as I can tell has had a common theme of different command officers. Riker was forced to defeat Picard without saving him. Because you never went into a coma between your last host and Skyler you were appointed a command instead of being forced into one via a battlefield commission. And Oni took command of the Albion, not me."
Quaen looked through all the data piling up on the screen, as odd and strange as it sounds it was picking up a lot of supporting evidence.
"Look, I was probably wrong with my paper, but there definitely is a 'theme' if you can call it that about this universe. Say, remember when we were walking in and I was commenting on your Commodore, the one Ashland replaced?"
Quaens face looked at him and sombered, "Hassiri."
"Right, I know him, in my universe, but I know things are really different. For example," he now pulled up yet another mission report, "It says here that Task Force Hippocrates was saved by Captain Hassiri's quick thinking and unconventional plans."
"Yes, it is what he is most famous for."
Traise was looking excited and as she heard what he was saying Quaen found that excitement more insulting, "You see! In my universe it didn't. While no one talks to him much about it we all know the loss had a big effect on him, he hasn't been the same since."
Quaen let the anger subside to sadness, Traise only now picked it up. His brow flexed as he stared perplexed.
"In your universe, are Hassiri and I romantically involved?"
John choked. It wasn't as much the shock of the idea but more how blunt and calm Quaen was being about their personal life. He blinked a few times and craned his neck as he wrestled with this new bit of information. "No... no you're not."
The complex look on Quaen's face as she processed this was, difficult to read.
"But... I do find it interesting that in both our universes you are involved with a commodore who happens to go AWOL in spectacular fashion. You were seeing our former commodore, Razor, in our universe too."
"Commander R'zo-vek? The security chief? Interesting."
"You know him?!"
"Yes, he's chief of security for Outpost Argo, transfered from the Toronto. Although it strikes me as odd to picture him as Commodore. He is rather infamous for shirking duty."
"Yeah, well, ours is too. So no surprise there," Traise was finally relaxed enough to continue searching.
"Still, you say my counterpart is dating him." The was the look of analytical pondering across her face, "I suppose, if the fur does go all the way down..."
Traise almost fell over. He stumbled into the console and stared at Quaen like she was an alien from another dimension; the realization that was a completely true fact didn't help much. Quaen, Chassy Skyler Quaen, had just said the most open thing about any of her relationships that he had ever heard. And she didn't even change color. Traise was terrified, mortified. He felt the Quaen from his own universe would somehow kill him just for overhearing that from a double. Alternate universe be damned, he was a dead man anyways.
"I need to get out of here," he mused. Quickly he finished what he needed from the searches and began to upload them to an unmarked data stick.
"So do you have an idea how?"
"No, but I got a feeling that largely depends on finding out how I got here. Still, now we know the truth. I am from another universe. That narrows it down." He pulled out the drive, "This should be enough for now, if I need more I will be in contact with you."
"Where are you going?"
"Back to the Forerunner and then New Romulus. I have those diplomatic meetings to save, no matter the universe, remember?"
"You still need to relieve yourself from your command position," the tone was that of an order, not a suggestion.
"I know, I know. I'll take care of it. Hopefully by the time I reach Tau Dewa I know how I got here." He filed away the stick into a pocket and then finished wiping out the consoles search history. "And Chassy..." John stopped himself, he needed to remember this one didn't know him as a friend yet, "Quaen, thanks."
"You're still here. Don't thank me until you can go home."
Hidden away, in the pungent deeps of Outpost Argo, was a small room that was kept remarkably colder than the rest of the station. There were numerous reasons why other staff avoided it. Walls of screens displayed various places through out the station while others showed lines of data, and another a bad earth movie. A mess of personal items crowed what should be considered a work station and tacky pinups of different alien women, scantly clad, hung from a few displays. In the center of it all a solitary man grinned as he read through the list of active searches through the station archives. Even if you delete the records of the consoles you accessed, someone can still see what you searched.
As he read through the file names, 'quantum flux', a search for a random number, a really long and stupid sounding title for an academy research project, he couldn't help but smile and let his pointed canines show. It was when he read the file that the search pulled up however, about a starfleet officer's personal account of dealing with a set of alternate universes that the man's major vice showed and he began to talk to himself.
"Interesting, t'eh."
He rocked in the captain's ready room chair. It squeaked. Commander Traise naturally approved of his Captain counterpart's reasoning for not fixing it. On a perfectly working starship it made it sound real. It was soothing.
Oni was on his way up, and he had to tell him. There was no backing out of it and there would be no problem to it. After all, he knew first hand the Bolion could do the job, but the question is would he? The more pressing question in John's head was would he have to tell him the real reason why. He didn't find an answer to the question before the door beeped and the Chief Engineer walked in.
"You wanted to see me, Captain?"
"Yeah, come in." John turned the chair and looked out the window as Commander Onihill stopped and stood across from the desk. Resolved he turned and spoke with a good authoritative tone, the one he liked to use when closing up things in diplomacy. "I've decided that I need to focus on the final stages of these negotiations. I don't want to find myself overburdened in the process."
"I see," Selik answered, his tone of voice more of a curious question.
"As a result, don't think I should try to stay in command until after the proceedings are dealt with. So I'm going to temporarily step down from command and put you in charge of the ship. Think you can handle that?"
Selik nodded, but began to pace across from the desk. John knew it well, it was of a certain playfulness that served as one of his tells. "I think I can..."
"But...?"
"But I have a condition," there was a wide grin.
"And that is?"
"You tell me what is really going on."
John didn't flinch, he didn't twitch or move. He knew Oni had him, if he already didn't have him earlier. He could bother and try to fake it, but Oni cut off his thoughts to reassure him he knew something else was afoot.
"What's really going on."
John remained motionless, his thoughts ticked, and he came to the best rational conclusion: '**** it, just tell him.' He shrugged, "I'm not your Traise. I'm a Traise from an alternate universe where I am a just a Commander aboard a vessel where you serve as Captain. I've swapped places with yours and I am trying to get back."
"Okay." Oni started towards the door, now completely assured and with his curiosity slated.
John snickered and furrowed his face in both confusion and relief; who knew it would have been so easy? He called out before his friend got to the door, "Oni, why do I ever doubt you?"
"You know," he stopped at the door, "I often ask myself the same thing."
Oni was on his way up, and he had to tell him. There was no backing out of it and there would be no problem to it. After all, he knew first hand the Bolion could do the job, but the question is would he? The more pressing question in John's head was would he have to tell him the real reason why. He didn't find an answer to the question before the door beeped and the Chief Engineer walked in.
"You wanted to see me, Captain?"
"Yeah, come in." John turned the chair and looked out the window as Commander Onihill stopped and stood across from the desk. Resolved he turned and spoke with a good authoritative tone, the one he liked to use when closing up things in diplomacy. "I've decided that I need to focus on the final stages of these negotiations. I don't want to find myself overburdened in the process."
"I see," Selik answered, his tone of voice more of a curious question.
"As a result, don't think I should try to stay in command until after the proceedings are dealt with. So I'm going to temporarily step down from command and put you in charge of the ship. Think you can handle that?"
Selik nodded, but began to pace across from the desk. John knew it well, it was of a certain playfulness that served as one of his tells. "I think I can..."
"But...?"
"But I have a condition," there was a wide grin.
"And that is?"
"You tell me what is really going on."
John didn't flinch, he didn't twitch or move. He knew Oni had him, if he already didn't have him earlier. He could bother and try to fake it, but Oni cut off his thoughts to reassure him he knew something else was afoot.
"What's really going on."
John remained motionless, his thoughts ticked, and he came to the best rational conclusion: '**** it, just tell him.' He shrugged, "I'm not your Traise. I'm a Traise from an alternate universe where I am a just a Commander aboard a vessel where you serve as Captain. I've swapped places with yours and I am trying to get back."
"Okay." Oni started towards the door, now completely assured and with his curiosity slated.
John snickered and furrowed his face in both confusion and relief; who knew it would have been so easy? He called out before his friend got to the door, "Oni, why do I ever doubt you?"
"You know," he stopped at the door, "I often ask myself the same thing."
"Captain, we're approaching New Romulus."
"Good," Captain Onihill remarked, "Bring us into orbit. I will tell Mr. Traise."
"Sir," The communication's officer pipped up, “Romulus Command has a message for him.”
“Oh?” The tone was curious.
“Apparently they captured the Tal Shiar assassin that assaulted him on his last visit. They have them detained but are willing to front a full report of their findings from the individual's 'debriefing' in a show of trust.”
“Very well, forward it to a PADD and I will take it to him myself.”
There were no objections from the bridge staff, but a few heads turned when Oni made his way to his ready room, where Commander Traise had been prepping up for the closing diplomatic talks. While the Captain never shrugged away from doing work himself, it was a slight bit odd he was choosing to act messenger, let alone allow Traise to use his own office on the bridge.
Oni arrived at the door, stopped for just a moment, then smirked briefly before pressing the button to chime his arrival.
“Come.”
Oni marched in business-like, holding the PADD. Traise was sitting behind the desk and was busy pluckling through the ship archives and the reports he pulled over from Argo and the AG facilities. The human was nearly oblivious to the world around him.
“Captain, we've arrived at New Romulus.”
Traise responded instinctively, “Good, tell Conn to bring us into orbit and-” He stopped himself. His face furrowed into mask of self depreciation and obvious mistake.
Oni merely grinned, “You know, considering that's all I needed to do to get you to slip up, I'm kind of surprised I needed to wait for you to tell me.”
“Oh, Har Har har,” he reached across the desk and grabbed the PADD, “What's this?”
“They apparently caught the guy-”
“Gal,” John was already reading the report.
“Fine, 'gal' who tried to jump you on New Romulus. That incident when we tried to beam you aboard. Said it was a show of openness to do so.”
“Heh, considering when we were kids the Romulan's wouldn't let their own see the results of their 'investigations' that is a bold statement.” John kept reading but his eyes began to squint as his face slowly drooped in deep thought.
“What is it?” His friend asked, “I haven't had a chance to read it myself.”
“When they caught him he was wearing a personal cloaking device... miniaturized for a tactical kit. But it was of Romulan style construction.”
“Romulan style? As in a Romulan cloak? The ones the emit Chronitons?”
“Yeah...” the voice was soft at first, “...yeah. Yeah!”
“That means you have a clue?”
“That means I think I figured it out! When they jumped me was right when you activated the beam out! We were both standing in the what would have become the matter stream. I wonder if when you activated the beam the singularity generator that must have powered that miniaturized cloak acted like a quantum singularity!” John clapped his hands and stood up from the chair, “That has to be it! That's when caused the swap!”
“So, you know how it happened. Think you can reproduce it?”
“Maybe,” John stroked his chin, “But I will need help, and a bit more data. Not to mention the Assassin herself. There is a good chance she jumped with me too. At the very least, if she shares my quantum signature we will know for sure.”
“Do you think it will be hard to get custody of her?”
“With my current diplomatic clout? Not a problem. The real issue is I will need some more supplies from Argo and AG-21-8.”
“I'll contact Skyler.”
“Oni, I may need your help in this too. I can do the science here and calculate what we need to do but I'm no engineer. I am not sure I have the technical skills to reproduce this.”
“Oh, don't worry. I will be there too. You didn't think I wasn't going to be involved after telling me this, did you?”
“Oni,” Traise was somber, “I know you're risking your captaincy not reporting this and jailing me.”
“If I did,” his friend retorted, “I would be risking your captaincy too, remember? We're in this together now. Let's get you home.”
John smiled and let out a relieved sigh, but was cut off before he could speak.
“Besides, I want my second officer back. A ship is no good with two captains.”
The friends shared a quick smile, then, each went back to work.
"Good," Captain Onihill remarked, "Bring us into orbit. I will tell Mr. Traise."
"Sir," The communication's officer pipped up, “Romulus Command has a message for him.”
“Oh?” The tone was curious.
“Apparently they captured the Tal Shiar assassin that assaulted him on his last visit. They have them detained but are willing to front a full report of their findings from the individual's 'debriefing' in a show of trust.”
“Very well, forward it to a PADD and I will take it to him myself.”
There were no objections from the bridge staff, but a few heads turned when Oni made his way to his ready room, where Commander Traise had been prepping up for the closing diplomatic talks. While the Captain never shrugged away from doing work himself, it was a slight bit odd he was choosing to act messenger, let alone allow Traise to use his own office on the bridge.
Oni arrived at the door, stopped for just a moment, then smirked briefly before pressing the button to chime his arrival.
“Come.”
Oni marched in business-like, holding the PADD. Traise was sitting behind the desk and was busy pluckling through the ship archives and the reports he pulled over from Argo and the AG facilities. The human was nearly oblivious to the world around him.
“Captain, we've arrived at New Romulus.”
Traise responded instinctively, “Good, tell Conn to bring us into orbit and-” He stopped himself. His face furrowed into mask of self depreciation and obvious mistake.
Oni merely grinned, “You know, considering that's all I needed to do to get you to slip up, I'm kind of surprised I needed to wait for you to tell me.”
“Oh, Har Har har,” he reached across the desk and grabbed the PADD, “What's this?”
“They apparently caught the guy-”
“Gal,” John was already reading the report.
“Fine, 'gal' who tried to jump you on New Romulus. That incident when we tried to beam you aboard. Said it was a show of openness to do so.”
“Heh, considering when we were kids the Romulan's wouldn't let their own see the results of their 'investigations' that is a bold statement.” John kept reading but his eyes began to squint as his face slowly drooped in deep thought.
“What is it?” His friend asked, “I haven't had a chance to read it myself.”
“When they caught him he was wearing a personal cloaking device... miniaturized for a tactical kit. But it was of Romulan style construction.”
“Romulan style? As in a Romulan cloak? The ones the emit Chronitons?”
“Yeah...” the voice was soft at first, “...yeah. Yeah!”
“That means you have a clue?”
“That means I think I figured it out! When they jumped me was right when you activated the beam out! We were both standing in the what would have become the matter stream. I wonder if when you activated the beam the singularity generator that must have powered that miniaturized cloak acted like a quantum singularity!” John clapped his hands and stood up from the chair, “That has to be it! That's when caused the swap!”
“So, you know how it happened. Think you can reproduce it?”
“Maybe,” John stroked his chin, “But I will need help, and a bit more data. Not to mention the Assassin herself. There is a good chance she jumped with me too. At the very least, if she shares my quantum signature we will know for sure.”
“Do you think it will be hard to get custody of her?”
“With my current diplomatic clout? Not a problem. The real issue is I will need some more supplies from Argo and AG-21-8.”
“I'll contact Skyler.”
“Oni, I may need your help in this too. I can do the science here and calculate what we need to do but I'm no engineer. I am not sure I have the technical skills to reproduce this.”
“Oh, don't worry. I will be there too. You didn't think I wasn't going to be involved after telling me this, did you?”
“Oni,” Traise was somber, “I know you're risking your captaincy not reporting this and jailing me.”
“If I did,” his friend retorted, “I would be risking your captaincy too, remember? We're in this together now. Let's get you home.”
John smiled and let out a relieved sigh, but was cut off before he could speak.
“Besides, I want my second officer back. A ship is no good with two captains.”
The friends shared a quick smile, then, each went back to work.
The warehouse on New Romulus was void of people, save two men typing away at consoles. One of them was blue. The noise from the container nearby them had finally settled down, the bashing from inside subsiding. For a while the only sound between the two Commanders was tinkling of their fingers as they worked, like raindrops on a concrete sidewalk. John was the first to crack.
“It never occurred to you too, did it?”
“Hmm?”
“Before now, you hadn't even pictured having your own command, let alone Captaining the Albion.”
“Nope,” the Bolion replied succinctly.
“Me either, at least until all this.”
“We certainly are a pair. Here we are, two men who have done the best they could to dodge the responsibility while somewhere there is a universe crammed with the opposite.”
“Heh, one Forerunner with two Captains, and one with two Commanders. Ours may sound more hopeless but I think we got the better deal.”
“Arguing over a chair as opposed to who gets to run from it? Yeah, I think you're right.”
“You know, I suppose this goes without saying, but, if circumstances were different I guess we could have done it if we were needed to.”
Oni looked up, the John he knew was, in many respects, the same man, but if there was one thing he relied on it was confidence. What he just said was an acknowledgment of self doubt Oni never thought to hear in that voice. “Yeah,” he said reassuringly, “I guess this proves we could.”
“So, you got everything hooked up over there?”
“What, a reworked transporter with a jury rigged chroniton singularity generator strapped to it? Easy peasey lemon squeezy.”
John laughed, “I swear you both pick up the greatest phrases from my culture.”
“How about you, you confident in your calculations? After all, I'm not the one risking my hide by splitting my molecules and trying to transfer them to another dimension.”
“Well, considering this only works if I get my math right? No. Not in the slightest,” he smirked, “And then you need to factor in the fact the only way this works is if the other me does the exact same thing, at the exact same time and -he- gets -his- calculations right. So, with that in mind... I'm pretty much terrified. But, best chance I got so,” he shrugged and they both laughed. It wasn't fake or forced and made a world of difference in easing the tension.
“I am almost done here. It'll just need your directional computations.”
“Right, and I'll have that once Commander Quaen gets here.”
Behind them, the door the to warehouse subsection chimed.
“And that would be them now,” he did the last few cursuary piano taps with one hand and turned to face the door as it opened. He had been expecting Quaen with the detailed scan results of him and this universe in order to index his calculations and send him to the right place. He hadn't been expecting her to arrive with guests.
As Commander Quaen marched into the room so too did another individual that John hadn't seen in some time. The shock caught him completely off guard and stopped him in his tracks.
“Commedore Razor!” his face scrunched in an expression of exasperation when he realized what he said, “Shit.”
“Commedore, 'teh.” The hairy alien scratched his chin thoughtfully, a bemused look on his face, “Now that's an interesting title.”
“I'm sorry, Mr. Traise. Once he found out he insisted. There was nothing I could do.”
Traise raised his hands, “No, no it's fine. I understand. Once Razor gets his mind on something... besides, chances are he's only here because he's curious. It's the only reason I've not been taken in yet.” He looked the man in the eyes, “Isn't it?”
Razor looked over to Captain Quaen, grin growing, “You're right. I like him, 'teh.” He then looked over John's shoulder to the Bolian at the device assembly. “Captain Onihill, how are you?”
“Good,” he didn't look up much, “You, Razor?”
“Fine fine, so long as you got that thing I sent you? Settled that debt from that last game, right?”
“Oh what, the- oh yeah, the one with the Twins. Right, consider yourself covered.”
Traise was not as caught off guard as he could have been, after all, he'd come to accept this was not his home and some thing would have been a bit different. He was, for the most part taking it all in stride. He merely looked at Quaen, shrugged, and took the data box she held out to him.
“This will be all you need?” she asked.
“Yep, the last component is in the crate right there,” he said returning to his work station. As if on cue the large container began to pound again as an angry Romulan voice shouted out from inside.
“You won't take offense if I-” she was already pulling out a scanner.
“No, of course not. By all means.”
It wasn't that she didn't trust the version of herself who knew and trusted this Traise, but, she hoped in her universe she was doing the exact same thing. Being cautious.
“It's the Romulan assassin, the one that jumped me and caused this mess with their personal cloaking device. Since we both came over, we both need to go back.”
The scans verified, at least in a preliminary sense, his claims. She resigned herself and closed up her tricorder.
“It never occurred to you too, did it?”
“Hmm?”
“Before now, you hadn't even pictured having your own command, let alone Captaining the Albion.”
“Nope,” the Bolion replied succinctly.
“Me either, at least until all this.”
“We certainly are a pair. Here we are, two men who have done the best they could to dodge the responsibility while somewhere there is a universe crammed with the opposite.”
“Heh, one Forerunner with two Captains, and one with two Commanders. Ours may sound more hopeless but I think we got the better deal.”
“Arguing over a chair as opposed to who gets to run from it? Yeah, I think you're right.”
“You know, I suppose this goes without saying, but, if circumstances were different I guess we could have done it if we were needed to.”
Oni looked up, the John he knew was, in many respects, the same man, but if there was one thing he relied on it was confidence. What he just said was an acknowledgment of self doubt Oni never thought to hear in that voice. “Yeah,” he said reassuringly, “I guess this proves we could.”
“So, you got everything hooked up over there?”
“What, a reworked transporter with a jury rigged chroniton singularity generator strapped to it? Easy peasey lemon squeezy.”
John laughed, “I swear you both pick up the greatest phrases from my culture.”
“How about you, you confident in your calculations? After all, I'm not the one risking my hide by splitting my molecules and trying to transfer them to another dimension.”
“Well, considering this only works if I get my math right? No. Not in the slightest,” he smirked, “And then you need to factor in the fact the only way this works is if the other me does the exact same thing, at the exact same time and -he- gets -his- calculations right. So, with that in mind... I'm pretty much terrified. But, best chance I got so,” he shrugged and they both laughed. It wasn't fake or forced and made a world of difference in easing the tension.
“I am almost done here. It'll just need your directional computations.”
“Right, and I'll have that once Commander Quaen gets here.”
Behind them, the door the to warehouse subsection chimed.
“And that would be them now,” he did the last few cursuary piano taps with one hand and turned to face the door as it opened. He had been expecting Quaen with the detailed scan results of him and this universe in order to index his calculations and send him to the right place. He hadn't been expecting her to arrive with guests.
As Commander Quaen marched into the room so too did another individual that John hadn't seen in some time. The shock caught him completely off guard and stopped him in his tracks.
“Commedore Razor!” his face scrunched in an expression of exasperation when he realized what he said, “Shit.”
“Commedore, 'teh.” The hairy alien scratched his chin thoughtfully, a bemused look on his face, “Now that's an interesting title.”
“I'm sorry, Mr. Traise. Once he found out he insisted. There was nothing I could do.”
Traise raised his hands, “No, no it's fine. I understand. Once Razor gets his mind on something... besides, chances are he's only here because he's curious. It's the only reason I've not been taken in yet.” He looked the man in the eyes, “Isn't it?”
Razor looked over to Captain Quaen, grin growing, “You're right. I like him, 'teh.” He then looked over John's shoulder to the Bolian at the device assembly. “Captain Onihill, how are you?”
“Good,” he didn't look up much, “You, Razor?”
“Fine fine, so long as you got that thing I sent you? Settled that debt from that last game, right?”
“Oh what, the- oh yeah, the one with the Twins. Right, consider yourself covered.”
Traise was not as caught off guard as he could have been, after all, he'd come to accept this was not his home and some thing would have been a bit different. He was, for the most part taking it all in stride. He merely looked at Quaen, shrugged, and took the data box she held out to him.
“This will be all you need?” she asked.
“Yep, the last component is in the crate right there,” he said returning to his work station. As if on cue the large container began to pound again as an angry Romulan voice shouted out from inside.
“You won't take offense if I-” she was already pulling out a scanner.
“No, of course not. By all means.”
It wasn't that she didn't trust the version of herself who knew and trusted this Traise, but, she hoped in her universe she was doing the exact same thing. Being cautious.
“It's the Romulan assassin, the one that jumped me and caused this mess with their personal cloaking device. Since we both came over, we both need to go back.”
The scans verified, at least in a preliminary sense, his claims. She resigned herself and closed up her tricorder.
“So, how's this all going to work, t'eh?”
“We flip the switch, we send me home.”
“And bring our Traise back,” Quaen more or less issued an order rather than a question.
“And bring your Traise back.” Captain Traise's voice remained confident, but, the truth was he was still praying it would actually do what he said it would. Considering what it was they were trying to do, even if they had the opportunity for a second shot at this he wasn't sure he wanted to have survived for it. One last glance at his computations and a final shrug later he tapped the last confirmation into the console and it chimed to life. “That should do it.”
All eyes looked up at him as he strode over to the pad they had rigged up to send the proper temporal displacement around both him and the container that confined the Romulan assassin. He stepped up, turned around, and tugged on his uniform as if he needed to look presentable.
“This is it,” he said with resignation, “I want to thank you, all of you. I wouldn't have been able to get this far if it wasn't for you all trusting me.”
The air was a little cold in the room until Oni spoke; after all in this universe his friendship was the closest to that of his own, “Bah, just get home safely so we can stop worrying about it.”
John nodded, “And Razor, I know you're not mine but...”
The hairy man raised a brow.
“... It was good to see you again.”
There was an awkward nod, but some part of it showed understanding in a strange way.
“Alright,” he said to Oni, “Here goes nothing. Hit it.”
There was a quick flash akin to that of a Q's finger snap and in the blink of an eye there were three Traises standing out in the open. They looked at each other bewilderingly and then at the world around them. Simultaneously there were three universes superimposed, acting at the same time.
“Three of them?!” A triad of Quaens exclaimed in a chorus of different reactions.
The Johns looked at each other and grinned devilishly; they knew there was the possibility of a brief moment like this as they passed back into their universes.
The first one to react post grin raised his hand up into the air, “Hi-five!”
The other tilted his head and said, “Could you see Captain Picard giving a Hi-five?”
“Toche',” Said the third.
The smirk ever present, the Commander and Captain shook hands and changed places.
The other images blinked away, and around him the world was again a solid single piece; no longer a series of superimposed existences.
“Did it work?” Captain Quaen asked.
“I uh, don't know,” John responded, “If you're a captain raise your hand?”
There was the slight bit of an awkward pause before Oni laughed and raised his hand, Quaen following suit with a confused look on her face.
John didn't raise his hand.
He cheered as he jumped off the platform and embraced his Bolian friend, “You would not believe how happy I am right now that I don't need to compete with you to see who gets to shirk duty.”
“I don't know,” Oni responded, “Now that I know for sure you have what it takes...”
“Don't even think about it,” He moved over to Captain Quaen, “I uh, suppose in a way this is the first time you and I have met but, thank you. You... really helped me out and I have a feeling you did here too.”
She raised her hand, “I am just glad to have this taken care of.” There was a flick of her tricorder as the scan verified his matching quantum signature. “Chief Razor, is everything checks out.”
“Razor? You're Razor?”
“In the fur, 'teh. And yeah, I think this was entertaining enough for me to not bother writing a report.” Thoroughly bored with the reunion, he spun on his heal and sauntered to the door. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I hear Nova Roma has a surplus of beautiful Romulan women looking to repopulate.”
“Then that is that?” Quaen asked Traise, unphased.
“Yep, we'll have to get this Tal'Shiar assassin back to the Romulan authorities, but, after that I should have time to make it to the ending talks today. Commander Traise cloaked both remaining Captains with an arm each and smiled, “And I owe it all to you two.”
Oni laughed, Quaen was bemused.
“It's good to be home.”
“We flip the switch, we send me home.”
“And bring our Traise back,” Quaen more or less issued an order rather than a question.
“And bring your Traise back.” Captain Traise's voice remained confident, but, the truth was he was still praying it would actually do what he said it would. Considering what it was they were trying to do, even if they had the opportunity for a second shot at this he wasn't sure he wanted to have survived for it. One last glance at his computations and a final shrug later he tapped the last confirmation into the console and it chimed to life. “That should do it.”
All eyes looked up at him as he strode over to the pad they had rigged up to send the proper temporal displacement around both him and the container that confined the Romulan assassin. He stepped up, turned around, and tugged on his uniform as if he needed to look presentable.
“This is it,” he said with resignation, “I want to thank you, all of you. I wouldn't have been able to get this far if it wasn't for you all trusting me.”
The air was a little cold in the room until Oni spoke; after all in this universe his friendship was the closest to that of his own, “Bah, just get home safely so we can stop worrying about it.”
John nodded, “And Razor, I know you're not mine but...”
The hairy man raised a brow.
“... It was good to see you again.”
There was an awkward nod, but some part of it showed understanding in a strange way.
“Alright,” he said to Oni, “Here goes nothing. Hit it.”
There was a quick flash akin to that of a Q's finger snap and in the blink of an eye there were three Traises standing out in the open. They looked at each other bewilderingly and then at the world around them. Simultaneously there were three universes superimposed, acting at the same time.
“Three of them?!” A triad of Quaens exclaimed in a chorus of different reactions.
The Johns looked at each other and grinned devilishly; they knew there was the possibility of a brief moment like this as they passed back into their universes.
The first one to react post grin raised his hand up into the air, “Hi-five!”
The other tilted his head and said, “Could you see Captain Picard giving a Hi-five?”
“Toche',” Said the third.
The smirk ever present, the Commander and Captain shook hands and changed places.
The other images blinked away, and around him the world was again a solid single piece; no longer a series of superimposed existences.
“Did it work?” Captain Quaen asked.
“I uh, don't know,” John responded, “If you're a captain raise your hand?”
There was the slight bit of an awkward pause before Oni laughed and raised his hand, Quaen following suit with a confused look on her face.
John didn't raise his hand.
He cheered as he jumped off the platform and embraced his Bolian friend, “You would not believe how happy I am right now that I don't need to compete with you to see who gets to shirk duty.”
“I don't know,” Oni responded, “Now that I know for sure you have what it takes...”
“Don't even think about it,” He moved over to Captain Quaen, “I uh, suppose in a way this is the first time you and I have met but, thank you. You... really helped me out and I have a feeling you did here too.”
She raised her hand, “I am just glad to have this taken care of.” There was a flick of her tricorder as the scan verified his matching quantum signature. “Chief Razor, is everything checks out.”
“Razor? You're Razor?”
“In the fur, 'teh. And yeah, I think this was entertaining enough for me to not bother writing a report.” Thoroughly bored with the reunion, he spun on his heal and sauntered to the door. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I hear Nova Roma has a surplus of beautiful Romulan women looking to repopulate.”
“Then that is that?” Quaen asked Traise, unphased.
“Yep, we'll have to get this Tal'Shiar assassin back to the Romulan authorities, but, after that I should have time to make it to the ending talks today. Commander Traise cloaked both remaining Captains with an arm each and smiled, “And I owe it all to you two.”
Oni laughed, Quaen was bemused.
“It's good to be home.”