Chapter One
Twenty-Two Years Earlier
Stardate 76334.9; May 03, 2399
“Activating temporal geometry contours—primary temporal field
generators online. Chronometric beacon
is reinitializing… tachyon relays are active—central temporal impeller is online…”
There were times when technobabble was almost melodic—a sweet song
of incredibly technical data that seemed to hit all the right notes—but as
Kendall Johnson’s recital of the preflight sequences aboard the Shuttlecraft Epoch
filled the Starlight’s bridge, Alan Christopher was not exactly enamored
with the melody. In fact, it was rather
confusing.
Hoping to lighten the mood a little bit, Christopher turned to
Erin Keller at ops and mused, “He started to lose me at the temporal
geometry contours… I don’t even think I
want to know what a central temporal impeller does.”
While Keller wasn’t directly involved with the development of the Epoch,
she helped lay the foundations for the ship and its new temporal shielding a
few years ago when she and Johnson created the very first temporal probe. As such, she was already quite familiar with
the temporal impeller. “Remember when
we traveled to the end of the universe a few years ago?”
Christopher remembered that particular adventure all too
well. The Yelss had been meddling in
places they shouldn’t have been, and the Starlight was thusly granted a
free trip into the future.
“In order for us to travel through time,” Keller continued, “we
had to make some serious modifications to the deflector dish and the particle
emitter—and then there was that whole thing about opening a chronometric
distortion… It was a big pain in the
ass.”
Christopher readily nodded his agreement. “You can say that again.”
But Keller refrained from doing so. “In theory, the temporal impeller will basically open a
chronometric distortion and force the Epoch through time without the
need for extensive recalibrations to the deflector.”
That was all well and great, aside from the in theory
part. As far as Christopher knew, the Epoch
didn’t presently have the ability to travel through time. It could scan the space/time continuum and,
if the new temporal shields worked, the ship would be protected from changes
any in the timeline. “In theory.”
“Nobody has really attempted to do this before,” said Keller,
keeping a close eye on the shuttlecraft’s progress. “And since we’re dealing with space and time and particle physics
and quantum mechanics… Everything is theory.”
Christopher chuckled thinly.
“Ah, quantum mechanics… the dreams stuff is made of.” He wearily clasped his hands together before
anyone could expound upon that particular subject, and very quickly got back to
work. “Neelar,” he called, “are we in
position?”
The Bolian briefly conferred with the helm. “We are,” he confirmed.
The plan was a simple one: the Starlight was to fire a
temporal probe and have it scan the Epoch. If even a few of the theories floating around proved true, then
the probe would be virtually unable to detect the Epoch, and a new age
in temporal science would be at hand.
“Temporal probe is ready for launch,” announced Lieutenant Bator a
scant moment later.
There was a tingle of excitement somewhere deep inside
Christopher’s heart. Even though he
found it somewhat difficult to get caught up in the alleged excitement of a
probe scanning a shuttlecraft, he knew in the back of his mind that this was
indeed an important event. “Fire!”
A steely gray probe subsequently streaked across the
viewscreen. In the distant background
was yet another entity that seemed to generate more questions than answers—the
Iconian station that had been discovered only a few weeks ago—but that,
Christopher knew, was a mission for another day. Today they would concentrate upon the temporal shields.
“I am receiving very little telemetry from the probe,” said Keller
after a few moments of analysis.
“Is it functioning?”
Bator checked his console.
“The probe is currently functioning within normal parameters.”
A faint smile subsequently flitted across Keller’s face. “Then I guess that means Kendall’s new
shields are working…”
Not only were the temporal shields working, they were working
incredibly well. Sitting with Lucas
Tompkins and Jayla Trinn in the Epoch’s claustrophobic little cockpit,
even Kendall Johnson was surprised by the results flitting across the myriad
computer consoles.
“It’s not a perfect shield,” gleaned Trinn from her workstation,
“but it’s good enough to fool that probe.”
And for once, good enough was an entirely acceptable
result—especially for a mission that most people believed would be a complete
and total failure. “The probe… it’s
moderately aware of a temporal disturbance in the vicinity,” said Johnson as he
studied the data. “But it can’t even
begin to pinpoint our location…”
“You think we can compensate?” asked Tompkins. “Make it completely unable to detect us?”
“Perhaps…” Johnson was already running a few theories through his
mind, but he didn’t want to start tinkering with the temporal shields just
yet. “First, I think I want to try
phase two of our plan…”
The tachyon burst.
Truthfully, Alan Christopher hadn’t anticipated making it this far
into the test. Given Johnson’s track
record with all things temporal, it was usually the fifth try that was
the charm, not the first. And with
those thoughts lingering in the back of his mind, Christopher was not certain
if he wanted to proceed. “Erin?”
“The tachyon burst is ready to fire,” she stated. “We’re just waiting for your order.”
Christopher assumed that Keller was giving the plan her blessing,
but in this instance, he wanted to be absolutely certain. “This isn’t going to backfire, is it?”
She grinned. “Theories,
Alan…”
He figured as much.
“Fire.”
The Epoch rocked just a bit as the pale blue tachyon burst
streaked across the cosmos—in fact, it was almost a soothing sensation… But
Kendall wasn’t in the mood for soothing.
So exhilarated was he by the success of this mission, he was ready to
forge ahead to step three. But much to
his chagrin, there was no step three.
Not even he had expected the second phase to go over so well.
“The shields are holding,” said Jayla Trinn, “and the tachyons
don’t appear to be affecting ship systems in the slightest.”
“Heh…” Lucas Tompkins immediately slapped a congratulatory hand
upon Johnson’s back. “Good work,
Kendall!”
Aboard the Starlight, Alan Christopher happily mirrored the
sentiment. “Good work indeed,” he
mused, watching intently as the shuttlecraft floated on the viewscreen. “I think we’ve just witnessed a little piece
of history.”
Erin Keller quickly tapped into the communication controls. “The champagne is on ice, Kendall! Good work, little buddy!”
The mention of champagne gave rise to a different type of
excitement. Christopher immediately
perked up—not because he enjoyed the bubbly beverage, but because he was
looking forward to the party that Erin was undoubtedly planning—but before he
had a chance to formalize the festivities, the strident calls of a sensor alert
filled the bridge.
Bator thusly cleared his throat.
“I hate to interrupt the celebration,” he interjected, “but the Iconian
station has apparently perceived the tachyon burst as some sort of threat. I am detecting a considerable energy buildup
inside the station.”
“A weapon?” suggested Christopher.
“Perhaps.”
He shook his head. “We’ve
been studying that stupid thing for a month without so much as fluctuation in
their defensive barrier… And now, of all times, it decides to take some
action! Why couldn’t this have happened
yesterday? I was bored to tears
yesterday!”
“And according to the temporal probe, you’ll be bored to tears
again tomorrow,” mused Keller. “When it
rains, it pours!”
Christopher took that as a pretty good indicator the Starlight
wasn’t about to be destroyed—but he wasn’t about to let his guard down. “Raise shields.”
“What about the shuttle?” asked Drayge.
“They have our shield frequencies,” reminded Christopher. “They can let themselves in if necessary.”
“And it just might be necessary,” added Bator. “The Iconian station has fired several anyon
pulses at the Epoch.”
“Their sensors must have mistaken the tachyon burst for some sort
of temporal incursion,” Keller theorized.
“The anyon pulses will neutralize any temporal incursions in the
vicinity.”
• • •
Hastily clearing most of Kendall’s temporal jargon from the
screen, Lucas Tompkins took the Epoch’s helm controls. “I’m taking evasive maneuvers!” he
announced, hoping his actions weren’t too little, too late. While anyon particles were typically
harmless to a starship, Tompkins was well aware that the Epoch was
hardly typical…
The little craft hastily darted out of the way, weaving around
three of the glittering orange pulses of light—but despite Tompkins’ quick
maneuvering, the Epoch still took a few hits. The deck rumbled a bit, and Tompkins had to concentrate to keep
his eyes focused on his console—but as far as he could tell, the ship was still
intact.
“Temporal shielding is down to sixty-eight percent,” said Johnson,
his voice not yet concerned. “If we
deactivate the shields, it might be enough to convince the Iconians the threat
has been neutralized.”
“It’s worth a shot,” concurred Jayla Trinn. “That last hit briefly destabilized the
temporal manifold. It’s still intact,
but the chronometric beacon is beginning to fluctuate.”
Johnson called up a damage report on one of the auxiliary consoles
to see the data for himself—and it didn’t take long for him to realize the
temporal shields had to go offline as soon as possible. “I’m taking the temporal shields offline,”
he said, already in the process of doing so.
“Get ready to raise our standard shields, though… just in case the
Iconians aren’t convinced the threat has been eliminated.”
Tompkins nodded, and readied the Epoch’s more conventional
deflector shields—but with another wave of anyon pulses headed for the shuttle,
he knew things were definitely going to start getting interesting…
“The Epoch’s shield’s are down to forty-seven percent,”
Bator announced as the orange-stained anyon pulses hurtled across the
viewscreen. “Another volley could
heavily damage the shuttle.”
Not willing to sacrifice that incredible piece of technology just
yet, Alan Christopher decided it was time to take a more active role in this
battle. “Neelar,” he called, gently
bracing himself in the command char, “put us between the Iconian station and
the Epoch. Make sure we
take the brunt of those anyon pulses.”
The Bolian’s deft fingers were immediately dancing over the
helm. “Aye, Captain!”
With the grace and agility of a bird in flight, the Starlight
hastily came about and stormed across the battlefield, moving right into the
line of fire. But as the larger
starship eclipsed the tiny Epoch, the anyon bursts did something
completely unexpected; as they approached the Starlight, every last one of the
anyon bursts exploded like some sort of cluster bomb. And while dozens of the newly divided anyon bursts did indeed
smash into the Starlight’s shielding, the vast majority of them swerved
around the ship, crashing directly into the Epoch with explosive force.
“Our shields are down to ninety-seven percent,” said Bator. “The Epoch’s shields have failed, and
their temporal manifold appears to be offline…”
“But that’s not stopping the Iconians,” chimed in Keller. “They’ve fired again!”
Christopher gently pounded his fists into the command chair. “Erin,” he called, “is there someway to
neutralize these anyon pulses without first sacrificing the Epoch?”
She quickly nodded her assent.
“A chroniton burst would probably do the trick,” she stated. “But if we start eliminating the anyon
pulses, the Iconian computer might perceive us as a threat…”
Since the Epoch was a fairly small craft, Christopher
assumed the Iconian computer responded accordingly. Thus, he didn’t want to see what might happen if the Starlight
became a threat. “How about this plan?”
he summarily prompted. “Escape?”
“Certainly a viable option,” mused Drayge.
“Then do it!” exclaimed Christopher. “Grab the shuttlecraft in a tractor beam and get us out of
here—maximum warp!”
With the next volley of vile orange anyon bursts looming in the distance,
the Starlight hastily plucked the ailing Epoch from the
battlefield and jumped to warp.
But it didn’t take long for Erin Keller to realize that something
went terribly wrong. “The shuttle is
gone!” she exclaimed even before the sensors could register the alert.
“Gone?” asked Christopher.
“What do you mean? Is it
destroyed?”
Neelar Drayge shook his head.
“I’m not detecting any debris in our wake…”
“And with good reason,” said Keller, sifting through the data on
her screen. “I’m still getting telemetry
from the probe—the Epoch is currently seven hours in the future… No
wait, they’re twelve hours into the future!”
Christopher arched a curious brow. “How did it get there?” he asked. “I didn’t think the shuttle had the ability
to travel through time.”
Keller could provide little more than a shrug. “Those anyon bursts must have somehow
destabilized their chronometric beacon,” she guessed. “If that’s the case, then the Epoch no longer exists in
our space/time continuum.”
“Let me get this straight…” The chronometric beacon was one of the
few facets of temporal technology that Christopher could understand—at least,
that’s what he hoped. “The chronometric
beacon is like a dog on a chain, and as long as that chain is tied to the tree,
Fido isn’t going anywhere…”
“Right,” said Keller. “And
if the beacon fails, that’s kinda like cutting Fido’s leash—he’s going to run
away, and we have no idea where he’s going to end up.”
“So, how do we tie the Epoch back to the tree?” asked
Neelar Drayge.
Keller shrugged. “That’s a
very good question…”
“There is a rift in the space/time continuum.”
And with those few words, the Primary’s attention suddenly drifted
away from the timeline and fell upon the Presage lingering nearby. “What sort of rift?” she demanded. Already, she could sense the disturbance in
the timeline, but the details eluded her.
The Presage was also at a loss for words, but this disturbance was
strong, and its presence was swiftly making itself known. “It is difficult to ascertain,” stated the
void’s Matriarch, her ethereal presence gracefully fading into the
conversation.
“The timelines indicate an unknown element has caused the
disturbance,” continued the Presage, her thoughts falling into alignment with
the disturbance—and if it involved an element previously unknown, a disturbance
it certainly was.
The Primary frowned. “The
Yelss might be involved, however, they are not the sole reason for the
disturbance. The timelines are vague.”
“They are shifting,” said the Presage.
“The Yelss are not the only ones involved,”
confirmed the Matriarch.
“There is another entity involved,” came a fourth ethereal voice, the
Secondary. She seemed deeply concerned
by the new timelines unfolding before her very eyes… “The number of favorable
timelines has begun to steadily decrease!”
The Primary’s frown deepened, and she turned to the Presage for an
explanation. “How is this
possible? The timelines were falling
into favorable alignments!”
The Presage closed her eyes to search the myriad timelines for an
explanation, but the Matriarch’s infinite wisdom prevailed. “A new species has intervened,” she
immediately proclaimed. “They are
called Human.”
“Human?” asked the Primary—but she could feel the answers were
already coming to her essence.
“They will shift the balance of favorable timelines to their favor
in an engagement at Procyon V,” said the Secondary.
Procyon V had appeared in many other timelines, but none of those
previous mentions had indicated defeat.
Thus, the Primary knew instantly what had to be done. “The mission cannot fail,” she said.
The Matriarch quickly fell into agreement. “We must eliminate this new threat…”