Story:Star Trek: Lexington

USS Lexington Crew

 * Captain Wil Thoms, Commanding Officer, Human


 * Commander Niko Baagh, Executive Officer, Caitian
 * Lieutenant Otos E'Kim, Chief of Security, Ferengi
 * Lieutenant Eleutherio, Chief Engineer, Liberated Borg
 * Commander Elizabeth Lense, Chief Medical Officer, Human
 * Lieutenant Allan Hood, Chief Science Officer, Human


 * Lieutenant Ba'el, Counselor, Klingon/Romulan
 * Junior-Grade Lieutenant Falora, Science Officer, Vulcan
 * Ensign D'Tan, Science Officer, Romulan

Stardate: 58776.2 (October 11, 2381)
The USS Lexington, begins its first assignment of humanitarian aid to Dorvan V before heading to unexplored space in the Alpha Quadrant.

Charted Course of USS Lexington into Unexplored Space
The Lexington dropped off supplies, including portable matter replicators and one industrial replicator to the colony world of Dorvan V, with the end goal to help make the colony self-sufficient as part of the Cardassia Union's Reconstruction.

As representatives of Starfleet Command, the crew was to meet with the colonists and their leaders, earning the proverbial "hearts and minds" by taking 2 weeks to give Federation aid and hospitality, helping the injured, reducing radiation levels and damage, and creating new homes and infrastructures, in addition to any general relief efforts.

Cardassian space is teeming with Orions, Nausicaans, and Ferengi; they are taking advantage of the logistical chaos of these Cardassian colonies. Reports of Nausicaans enslaving colonists, Orions raiding ships, and Ferengi profiting by exploiting colonists, all are due to the desperate situation facing the Cardassians in protecting their border. The Lexington was expected to take all lawful steps necessary to safeguard the colonists through both negotiation and/or defense.

Dorvan V
Colonists suffered from malnutrition due to growing the minimum amount of crops necessary to their survival. Nausicaans raided remaining crops, force the colonists to mine ladarium, and torment the colonists for sport.
 * Home to a colony of Native Americans from Earth.  The colonists renounced their Federation citizenship and agreed to be governed by the Cardassian government in 2370.  The planet's features include at least one continent, as well as mountains and rivers similar to ancient North America.

Living both on the planet's surface and below, through a network of tunnels, the Dorvanians struggle to meet their basic needs. They survived on algaculture - farming a species of native algae, since the Founders' attack, to address food security and malnutrition. On the surface, the algaculture sustains the colony with nutrition and energy, creating hydrogen through algae fuel, while colonists moved underground after planet's atmosphere was damaged as a result of the attack.

Newly Discovered Phenomenon and Cultures

 * See Ship's Log

Hedrikspool Province, Bajor – Nature Preserve, Northern Coast
Allan Hood burst into his family’s tent, embracing his wife, Samantha-Josephine, with a hug and kissed her. The Hoods have been camping on the beach, in a makeshift home of Bajoran palm branches and bamboo poles, for the last three days ago. Their temporary home was surrounded by Bajoran lilacs, and other native flowers, on a bed of salam grass.
 * Stardate: 58758.2; October 4, 2381, Time: 17:49:55

“It’s official,” Hood exclaimed, “we’re transferring to the USS Lexington.”

Sami-Jo laughed at the revealed excitement, hugged and kissed him back amidst the sound of Bajor’s green-tinted waves crashing in the distance.

“Finally, we’re getting away from Cardassia,” Hood pointed out, pouring himself a cup of sweetened Jumja tea, “I’ll get to do some real science, in the final frontier. No more scanning and cleansing antimatter radiation, no more hazardous conditions, and no more dodging degenerative health problems!”

Since December of 2375, after the Battle of Cardassia, Hood had been assigned to Cardassia Prime for humanitarian aid after planet’s massive devastation of infrastructure, death of eight hundred million civilians, and over seven million troops. His temporary duty assignment was to help cleanse excess antimatter radiation from the planet’s surface and the atmosphere, being extremely hazardous to humanoid life.

Hood decided to join Starfleet to be part of Starfleet’s effort of exploration of “strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations” in 2370, three years before the Dominion War began. Little did he know he would serve in the last two years of the Dominion War, and be part of the Restoration of Cardassia, for six years.

Finally, Hood’s reason for joining Starfleet was being realized. Though he majored in Astrophysics, with focus on Temporal, Quantum and Relativistic Mechanics, Warp Field Theory, Exoarchaeology and Radiobiology, Starfleet zeroed-in on his Radiobiology classes and experience, assigning him the Restoration project after the war.

“And, I’m officially promoted to Lieutenant, the Lexington's Chief Science Officer,” Hood reminded himself, telling his wife, through another wave of euphoria. Hood had wanted to be a CSO since joining the Academy.

Hood’s daughters came running up to see what the commotion was about.

“Daddy, you’re home!” squealed Gracie, Hood’s six-year-old, curly blonde, blue-eyed daughter, when she saw him. He didn’t know how many years left he had of her being excited to see him after work, but he intended to soak up every minute of the time he had left. Donna, Hood’s three-year-old, curly strawberry blonde, amber-eyed daughter, came running up on not-so-sure-footing, inspired by her big sister’s expression of delight.

While Hood hugged, kissed, and played with both girls, Sami-Jo reflected on their last six years living on Deep Space Nine while Allan was stationed on Cardassia. Sami-Jo had to wait for windows of permission and shore leave to see her newly wedded husband with their children. Now, she’ll get to live with him permanently while he’s stationed on the Lexington.

Hood explained that they need to pack everything from their quarters and move onto the Lexington; they’ll be leaving in three days, taking relief supplies to several Cardassian Colony worlds.

“After that,” Hood finished, “we’ll be heading out into the Alpha Quadrant, into uncharted space.”

Sami-Jo finally quit smiling and became pensive. When they decided to have children on the space station, it was relatively secure. They have been taking their proximity to Bajor for granted, camping on the surface, the Bajoran culture influencing their own. They always cherished that the substantial agricultural activities, flora and fauna, in the northern peninsula, reminded them of their home in Calusa, Florida on Earth.

Though there were risks involved being in Starfleet, the reality of the additional potential risks and dangers began to dawn. Hood must have come to the same conclusion; he slowly rose from his children, keeping eye contact with his wife, and walked over to her, grasping her hands.

“Starfleet’s been exploring uncharted territory for centuries,” Hood soothed, “this is the whole reason why we all came out here. We’ve made it this far. This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

“I’m worried about the babies, Allan,” Sami-Jo admitted while the wind blew gently through makeshift shelter, “it’s so dangerous.”

“I know,” Allan began, “I won’t be able to go that far away without you and the girls. I want you by my side; I need all of you in my life, through whatever happens, we’ll be together.”

Allan and Sami-Jo silently hugged as the girls played in the glow of the firelight.

Habitat Ring, Deep Space Nine – Hoods’ Quarters
Allan Hood removed his junior-grade pip and replaced it with the full lieutenant pip, checking the mirror, making sure everything was aligned correctly. He adjusted his uniform and straightened his combadge.
 * Stardate: 58765.3; October 7, 2381, Time: 08:01:40

“I haven’t seen you pay so much attention to your uniform since you were at the Academy,” Sami-Jo commented, looking over his shoulder. “Do you think they’ll change their mind if you’re uniform is precise?” “I’m the Chief Science Officer, now,” Allan remarked, defending himself. “I have to set an example for the junior officers and I want to meet with the captain after we get to the Lexington. You’re right, though; I haven’t felt this nervous and excited since the Academy.”

Of course, Hood was not counting the Dominion War in his comparison; he did his best to ignore the memories and focus on a routine life. But, it seemed, the more he pushed away those memories and the deeper he buried them, the more likely they would resurface.

Hood happened to look up in time to see Donna climbing their luggage on the anti-grav sled. He ran over and grabbed her just as she was beginning to stand up and bounce.

“We’re not stopping by sickbay before we’re leaving, Donna,” he said. “We’re just trying to get out of here in one piece.”

Allan reached up and grabbed the last of their personal items: their family’s longsword, the traditional first item to be hung up and the last to be taken down. An ancestor of Allan’s, the patriarch of the Hood family between 1630 and 1635, fought in the Swedish Intervention during the Thirty Years’ War, against the Holy Roman Empire. It has been passed down, from first born to first born, for over 700 years.

Seeing the sword hanging in his great-grandparents’ house, grandparents’ house, and his own house growing up, reminded him of his family's tradition of passing on ancient European martial arts and swordsmanship. While at the Academy, Allan earned his concealed weapon license for a retractable cutlass, granting him permission to carry it at all times, which he kept in a sheath in the small of his back.

Allan removed the plaque, inscribed with the family’s history, and slung the family’s blade over his shoulder, turned around and picked up Donna. Sami-Jo activated the anti-grav, prompting it to effortlessly hover above the deckplating, and glided it through their doors.

Gracie had been running circles around their empty quarters, giggling, never seeing so much room before.

“How does it float?” Gracie asked as they walked the corridors.

“It’s really complicated to explain, but, it’s like a hovercraft,” her father began, “but, it uses graviton inverter circuits, transfer coils, and a flow capacitor to produce a strong antigraviton field.”

“What’s an anty-gravyton?” Gracie further probed, holding her father’s hand as they maneuvered through the crowded corridors.

“It’s a tiny elementary particle that transmits gravitational force,” Allan attempted to explain. “Being massless and traveling at the speed of light, its discovery united quantum theory with gravity.”

“Oh, okay,” Gracie said.

Allan just shrugged at Sami-Jo about Gracie’s impossible understanding of gravitons. She had an amazing curiosity for her age and pulled in vocabulary like a black hole. It was hard to tell how much of their conversation she understood.

The Hood family passed for the last time through the dark corridors of Deep Space Nine. The departure was hard for Allan and Sami-Jo, especially for Sami-Jo; she spent so much time on DS9 as a permanent resident, taking the girls to play on Bajor.

They headed for one of the six large docking pylons, extending from the main docking ring. They walked to the end of pylon to find the port that connected to the Sovereign class ship.

Arriving on the USS Lexington
The change in corridors was dramatic; they instantly went from the dark, Cardassian architecture to the clean lines of Starfleet. The corridors were brighter, more spacious, and appealed to their human senses.

Upon stepping across the Lexington’s threshold, Hood tapped his combadge.

"This is Chief Science Officer Allan Hood reporting arrival," he said.

"Welcome aboard Lieutenant Hood," the computer responded back. "Your arrival has been logged."

The Hoods made their way to Deck 7 and found their new quarters, after asking the computer for directions. Being a senior officer, their quarters were located on the outer rim of the saucer section, unlike their quarters on DS9 with no windows.

As the doors opened, the family entered in, slowly, and gave themselves a tour. The living area was to the right with dining to the left. As they passed through, they entered their bedroom with the babies’ room to the right. All in all, the living space was more than they were accustomed.

After unpacking, Hood hung up their blade.

“It’s official,” he said, “we’re finally home.”

First Day
Stardate: 58776.13; Sunday, October 11, 2381, Time: 06:53:55

Hood was happy to be on the alpha-shift already, though he hated mornings; at least he did not have to adjust to a new schedule.

After Lieutenant Hood finished his log, he turned for one last check on his sleeping daughters: his six-year-old Gracie and three-year-old Donna. Both, sound asleep, for the time being. Sammie-Jo, exhausted from unpacking and taking care of the children, lay fast asleep on the bed adjacent to Gracie with Donna just within reaching distance. Hood kissed all three girls, adjusted his uniform one last time, and headed for the bridge.

Gracie had grown comfortable seeing her father leave so often, but, Donna, was another story. No matter how many times he left, she always acted like it was the first time. While they lived on Deep Space Nine, Donna would cry and reach for him, from her mother’s arms, as the doors hissed closed.

“At least I don’t have to leave them on DS9 while I head back to Cardassia, being gone for weeks at a time,” Hood thought to himself, walking through crewmen, officers, couples and families still moving in their belongings.

Hood walked the corridors, feeling pretty confident in being early and finally earning his way to his first assignment aboard the Lexington. Hood felt like it was his first day at the Academy all over again.

“We’re just offering humanitarian aid,” Hood told himself as he greeted his new crew members, too excitedly. “Nothing to worry about; everything’s going to be fine.”

Hood could see the science labs just past the turbolift and decided to have a peek. He approached the multipurpose lab, first. The doors opened to a darkened room.

“Computer, lights,” Hood ordered.

The lights flashed on revealing the state-of-the-art science labs. The lab had workstations focusing on everything from stellar cartography, astrometrics, and warp-field theory, to quantum mechanics, temporal mechanics, and holographic research. Hood felt the immediate temptation to run from lab to lab, testing the capability and limitations of the equipment.

“This is where I belong,” Hood said to himself, “not on radiation soaked Cardassia, away from my family, but, on this ship, on this mission.”

Hood retreated quickly back to the corridor before he ended up spending the day in the depths of observation and experimentation, formulation and testing of hypotheses, instead of on his own personal mission: reporting for duty.

When the turbolift opened, a gold collared Ferengi lieutenant, stood before him.

“Bridge,” Hood stated as he entered the turbolift, nodding to the Ferengi.

“I’m Allan Hood, Chief Science Officer,” Hood said after a moment in the turbolift, extending his hand.

“Otos E'Kim,” E'Kim replied. “That’s where I’m going, too. I’m Chief of Security,” he said proudly.

Hood, being of a shorter stature himself, for a human, could not help but notice E'Kim being a head shorter than him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” E'Kim said through sharpened teeth. “How can a Ferengi be a security officer in Starfleet, especially the Chief? It’s okay, I understand. At least you didn’t come out and ask me.”

“Sometimes, the only thing more dangerous than a question is an answer,” Hood stated. “Rule of Acquisition: #208.”

Both lieutenants laughed at each other’s perceived contradictoriness. Hood knew for a Ferengi to earn a security position, he had to be twice, maybe three times better, than everyone who applied. He must have had to prove himself over and over again. Hood then made the mental note to not get on his bad side.

***

Hood and E'Kim stepped from the turbolift and parted. E'Kim walked straight across and behind the captain’s chair to the tactical station. Hood followed, turning left and stepping onto the raised deck of the bridge. The duel station was occupied by only one officer while the stand-alone terminal stood crewed by a junior grade officer.

Hood walked behind ops and the helm, not being able to resist glancing over the shoulders of the junior officers sitting at their consoles. He did everything he could to keep his excitement in check in regards to going “...where no one has gone before.”

“Good morning, Ensign,” Hood greeted a Vulcan science officer, sitting near his terminal. “How are you this morning?”

“You are 19 minutes early, sir,” the ensign responded with a raised eyebrow, without looking at a chronometer, still facing her screen. “As for this morning, it is neither ‘good’ nor its implied alternative, ‘bad.’”

“That’s very absolute of you, Ensign,” Hood responded jokingly. “I just meant it as a greeting, just being friendly.”

“I know and fully understand your usage of the greeting, sir,” the ensign responded. “I am simply pointing out that one cannot state the unknown condition of ‘morning’ as perceived without adding personal feelings, prejudices, or interpretations to distort one’s perception.”

“You learn not to say ‘good morning…’” a human gold-collared officer joked as he approached. “I’m Eleutherio, Chief Engineer,” he said as he extended his hand.

From the angle where they stood in relation to each other, Hood did not notice his cybernetic right-side of his face, immediately.

Hood almost hesitated in shaking his hand, but, instead, pushed his prejudice aside. Hearing stories about the Borg from other officers, and the Battle of Wolf 359 from his father, had taken its toll. Hood pushed the stories of the Borg from his mind. His father, both traumatized and unforgiving of the Borg, resigned from Starfleet after “Locutus was given command of a starship, again.” It was his father's opinion that Captain Picard be court-martialed and thrown out of Starfleet

“Don’t mind her,” Eleutherio joked, “Ensign Falora is only making conversation. Good morning, Lieutenant.”

“Indeed, sir,” prompting the young Vulcan to turn slightly with her eyebrow raised, again.

“Good morning, Mr. Eleutherio,” After the Chief Engineer turned back to his bridge station, Hood stepped back over to the dual science station and took his seat to the left of the ensign, at the main terminal. He quickly adjusted the station to display the science data to his liking and stored the custom presentation to the system.

Hood turned over his left shoulder, noticing the first officer, floating with feline grace, to the captain’s ready room. Commander Niko Baagh, a large, dark fur covered Caitian, waited patiently to be let inside.

“I hear he has the sense of humor of a Vulcan,” Ensign D'Tan joked as he sat to the right of the Vulcan, “no offense, ma’am.” Though Baagh was all the way on the other side of the bridge, Baagh's ear twitched at the comment.

“Why would I be offended, Ensign?” Falora asked without looking from her terminal, still focused on her diagnostic, “You believe your comment was displeasing or affronting? Why would you make a comment that may have insulted me or caused moral outrage?”

"Not to make matters worse, Ensign," Hood began, "but, I'm sure the commander heard your comment. I hope you have an alibi handy."

“No, no, I only meant that…” D'Tan began, looking to Hood for support and understanding before being interrupted by the Vulcan.

“Vulcans do not have a sense of humor,” she stated flatly. “Humor is a difficult concept; it is not logical.”

D'Tan turned to Falora and back to Hood.

“Was that a joke?” D'Tan mouthed, nonverbally, to Hood.

“Mr. D'Tan, run a level five diagnostic on our sensors,” the chief science officer said, “I don’t want us being caught off guard out there.”  Hood chose a level five diagnostic, being the most automated determination of system performance to identify any potential malfunctions.

“Miss Falora, I’d like a level five diagnostic done on our deflector shield, just in case.”

Hood tapped his combadge and gave various science officers lists of systems to run similar diagnostics.

“Sir, if I may ask?” questioned Ensign Falora.

“Of course.”

Falora turned back to her station. She began running her diagnostic with ease while answering the science chief’s question. Multitasking a conversation while running a level five diagnostic on the deflector shields would be distracting for other species.

“Is it logical to run diagnostics on our key systems when they have already been tested by the original engineers and scientists before leaving spacedock?” asked the ensign.

“Think of it as a ‘go/no go poll.’”

“Sir?”

“A launch status check. It was known as a “go/no go poll, in practice at the beginning of early spaceflight missions in the mid-twentieth century. The original flight controllers monitored various systems for operation and readiness status before a launch could proceed.”

“Presently, the ‘conn,’ our flight control station, combines the roles of both the navigator and helmsman,” Falora supplied.

“This is our maiden voyage as a crew together, beginning our journey into uncharted territory,” Hood began, “our closest starbase will be Deep Space Nine. We may not have too many places to pull-over.”

Falora nodded accepting his logic, yet, raised at eyebrow, questioning again.

“Pull-over?”

“It’s an intransitive verb meaning to steer one’s vehicle to the side of the road,” Hood explained, “it’s an old term, but we still use it while driving our hovercars, similar to desert fliers on Vulcan. I’m guessing you didn’t attend the Academy on Earth?”

“Correct, Lieutenant,” Falora said, “though we did not have a need for hovercars or desert fliers on Relva VII, which is where I attended the Academy.”

As predicted, Commander Baagh walked directly toward the science trio's station, upon existing the captain's ready-room.

"You believe I do not have a sense of humor?" Baagh asked, towering over the science officers.

“Yes, sir…I mean, no, sir…”  D'Tan struggled as if standing before a predator, “I didn’t mean any disrespect, sir; I bet you have a great sense of humor, sir.  People probably just figured…”

“Ensign…” Hood interjected, shaking his head toward the fraught science officer.

Commander Niko Baagh, stood two or three heads higher than the Romulan, with piercing, unblinking, elliptical, yellow eyes, with fangs, now visible up-close, was quite an intimidating sight.

“I apologize, sir,” D'Tan said, gaining his footing, again.

"I hope you will refrain from disrespecting your superior officers in the future," Commander Baagh said.

“I guarantee it won’t happen, again, Commander,” Hood nodded, stifling back a smile, stepping in, giving a quick glance to his subordinate. “Though it is no excuse, I believe he’s just excited to meet you, sir, and did not handle it well.”

“Mr. D'Tan seems to often derive his opinions based on widely disseminated sentiments, with no discernible source, quite often,” Falora began, glancing at D'Tan. “His…statements have been known to not carry any authority for their truth.”

After Commander Niko Baagh stepped away, Hood put his hand on D'Tan's shoulder, “you sure know how to make a first impression.”

“Thanks, sir,” D'Tan said sheepishly.

“As for you, Ensign Falora,” Hood began with a slight edge to his voice, “if we find a team member being disciplined, I’d appreciate it if you kept your opinion of observations about a team member’s past behavior to yourself, unless he/she is violating Starfleet regulations or you are directly asked for your input.

“Do not throw anyone, especially your colleagues, under the bus; it doesn’t help us in the long run. People who throw teammates under the bus will not be trusted by their teammates and will invariably find themselves under the bus, someday, themselves. Is that understood, Ensign?”

“‘Thrown under the bus,’ Lieutenant?”  Falora asked sincerely.

“It’s another an idiomatic phrase,” Hood explained, “you might give the impression to your team that you’ll betray a friend or ally for selfish reasons.”

“Do you mean that it appears as a self-defensive disavowal of a friendly relationship after the relation becomes controversial?” Falora asked to clarify.

“Yes, exactly, Ensign.”

“Then, yes, sir, I understand,” Falora clarified. “I will not…‘throw’ anyone else…‘under the bus.’”

“Thank you, Ensign.”

“Mr. D'Tan, I apologize for…” Falora looked quickly to Hood from D'Tan, then back again, “…throwing you under the bus. In the future, I will report your inappropriate behavior to our superiors next time you ever violate Starfleet regulations or if I am directly asked for my input on your behavior.”

“Thanks, Ensign,” D'Tan responded, “I think.”

A moment after Falora and Hood resumed their duties, D'Tan leaned over to Hood. “Was she joking, again?”

Orion Attack
As the Lexington made its way to Dorvan V, it suddenly shuttered violently. Red alert blared out, knocking the Lexington out of warp. Captain Thoms yelled out orders while Commander Baagh roared out status reports.

Two Orion ships decloaked, hammering the Lexington.

“Direct hit!” yelled a panicked junior-grade helmsmen through the smoked filled bridge. Hood felt the same panic, though masking it behind experience.

The ship rocked again.

Hood gripped the science chair’s arms harder. Even with the safety harness, he felt as if he could be tossed straight from his seat.

How is Gracie and Donna? How is Sami-Jo?

“We lost our lower phaser array!” shouted a coughing Lieutenant E'Kim, lights flickering on the consoles behind him.

"Take us under them!" roared Commander Baagh.

“The Orions’ shields run at a significantly lower energy frequency than ours, sir,” Hood addressed the captain, after doing a quick scan of the Orion ship.

“Confirmed, sir,” Ensign Falora chimed after completing her calculation and turning in her chair to face the captain. “After obtaining their firing frequency, we will be able to determine the necessary deviation to ascertain the proper shield frequency to reduce the efficiency of their disruptors. But, it'll take time to...

"Adjust phasers for a 60 percent reduction rate in shield frequency as compared to ours," Captain Thoms interrupted, shouting over his shoulder to E'Kim.

“The effective percentage in reduction rate yet remains to be seen, sir, considering we have not yet collected the necessary firing data from the Orions' weapons,” Falora stated matter-of-factly, slightly turning her chair to address the captain, directly. Hood hoped Falora's Vulcanness would not be...misunderstood.

How did Captain Thoms know those stats off the top of his head? Hood reminded himself to ask captain after the cosmic dust settled.

As Lieutenant E'Kim made the adjustments and fired, again, Lieutenant Eleutherio stepped from his station to help a fallen junior officer as the Environmental station exploded in sparks.

As the smoke cleared, Hood turned to see Eleutherio was unconscious on the deck behind him; the surprise attack caught everyone unaware. Hood risked unfastening his harness, crawling over and finding Eleutherio’s pulse. He noticed half a dozen tiny mechanical arms coming from his Borg implants, making repairs to various areas of his body around each corresponding implant.

As Hood moved back to reclaim his seat and harness, the ship shifted under his feet among sparks and smoke. Hood landed unconscious on the deck near Eleutherio.

Gracie attempted to skip her rock across the Hickpochee River near the old Xindi Incident Memorial, but it splashed unsuccessfully at the shore instead.

“I think she’s starting to get it, Al,” Sami-Jo laughed, mocking her husband from the tree overlooking the ancient river oxbow, balancing Baby Donna, their one-year-old, on her knee.

''“You laugh now, but I bet she’ll have it figured out before you,” Allan half-joked back to her. “Hold it like this, baby,” Hood instructed his daughter while guiding her hand.''

After slamming the smooth stone back against the shore with a loud splash the second time, Gracie turned her face to her father and said in her sweet four-year-old voice, “Lieutenant, are you injured?

“Gracie?” Hood asked toward his recovering science officer, using the console to support himself as the ship tilted.

“Lieutenant Hood?” asked Ensign Falora.

“Falora! Get to sickbay and help Doctor Lense!”  Hood shouted over the chaos. The Vulcan stood up emotionless and walked across the shuttering bridge as if it was a routine.

***

Ensign Falora walked purposely through the corridor to sickbay from the turbolift. Occasionally, bumping against other crew members, taking turns catching each other, as the ship shook underfoot. She knew, without the inertial dampeners, they'd all have been instantly dashed against the bulkhead.

The psycho-suppression system responsible for the Vulcan suppression of emotions, located in the mesiofrontal cortex, worked better at stabilizing her emotions than the ship's dampeners did at stabilizing the crew, and Falora was heavily relying on it.

People lay injured in the corridor on the way to the bridge and her logical mindset guided her to reach sickbay, in spite of the humanoid obstacles that lay before her. As she stepped over and around injured crew members, some reached out to her. She ignored them; logically, there were too many for her to help and there may be those in a more critical condition. The logical thing to do would be to receive orders directly from Doctor Lense, himself. Any of these undisciplined humanoids would have stopped and saw to their injuries, but not Falora; she knew better.

Finally, Falora reached sickbay, the door being held open by an unconscious crew member's leg. Falora ducked a hose, which threatened to burn off her pointed ears, as she stepped over the crew member's leg and threshold to sickbay.

"Do you need assistance, Doctor Lense?"

***

Hood’s eyes finally began burning. He heard someone attempting to put out an electrical fire when the console behind the person erupted in sparks and fire, swallowing his attempt and his soul.

Hood risked called out to Commander Baagh’s command chair.

We need something old.

“May I suggest the Picard Maneuver, sir?” Hood shouted, “we’d throw them off by giving them a surprise attack of our own. Even the score a little.”

Captain Thoms ordered the attack pattern and took the helm after seeing the helmsman frozen in fear.

The Lexington shot into high warp directly in front of the closest Orion ship, making the Lexington appear, to the Orions' sensors, to be in two places at once. The Orions targeted and fired on the sensor ghost of the Lexington.

Captain Thoms ordered Lieutenant E'Kim to open fire as soon as they dropped out of warp. The Orions had no time to evade the attack before being hit with phasers and quantum torpedoes.

The first Orion ship was destroyed.

The explosion rocked the second Orion ship, spinning its disruptor turrets in their direction, giving them a clear shot. The Ferengi officer fired, again, destroying their weapons and continually laying down heavy fire.

As the Lexington drifted a moment, the Orions leveled their ship and warped away.

***

By the time the combatants left, medical personnel made it to the bridge. Hood ran over to Chief Engineer Eleutherio, watching again as those tiny mechanical arms, from his Eleutherio’s Borg implants, making repairs to various areas of his body around each corresponding implant. As the med team made their way over to them, Eleutherio abruptly sat up.

“What did I miss?” Eleutherio asked.

“We were attacked by two Orion ships, but it’s over. What happened to you?” asked Hood.

“He seems to have suffered a concussion,” said the medic while consulting his medical tricorder, waving the external sensor over his implants. “It appears your condition has been repaired by your implants. Though you probably won’t experience any symptoms, I still would like you to rest in your quarters for twenty-four hours. Looks as if you’ve had some intracranial hemorrhage, but your implants repaired it. Don’t be surprised if we call you down to sickbay anyway to check out those implants.

“Report to sickbay if vomiting, a worsening headache, dizziness, double vision, or slurred speech occurs. You are now officially relieved of duty for twenty four hours. Please report to your quarters.

“Lieutenant Hood, please check in on Lieutenant Eleutherio from time to time in his quarters and make sure he’s recovering and not experiencing any symptoms he might miss.”

With that, the medic patted Eleutherio on the shoulder and moved on to his next patient.

“That’s amazing how your implants healed you so quickly,” Hood exclaimed, “we got to check those out at the lab. I’d love to have a look at them.”

“I rather not, Lieutenant,” Eleutherio said with a chuckle, “my implants have been researched and documented shortly after my liberation from the Borg. I rather not go through any of that, again. Before you ask, I have no memory of being abducted, rescued, or life as a drone. I remember the attack and then waking up years later in a medical facility with these implants.”

“You need help getting to your quarters?” Hood asked, bracing his arms and raising him to his feet.

“I should be fine, thank you,” Eleutherio responded.

Hood was careful to watch him walk without mishap to the turbolift. He wondered how Falora was handling her newfound duties as a medic.

***

After following Doctor Lense's orders, Ensign Falora emotionlessly stepped over and around injured crewmembers, again, which were reaching out to her, only for her to ignore them. She logically and indifferently followed the doctor's request. Falora acknowledged to herself the needs of everyone she saw and committed them to memory, with the impassivity that only a Vulcan mind would subject itself to.

When Falora finished consulting with her tricorder, she logically assessed which crew members needed the most help and began making the adjustments to her hyposprays, digging into the medkit slung over her right shoulder.

***

“Donna and I are fine, Al,” Sami-Jo said anxiously, “I'm trying to get to Gracie; the comm's down and I haven't been contacted by the school. I'm with a few parents, trying to...”

“Hood to Preschool Class B,” Hood called, cutting off the communication with his wife, “Preschool Class B, respond. Hood to Preschool Class B...Preschool Class B, respond.”

Hood called out to Commander Baagh, accidentally letting the apprehension slip into his voice. “Commander Baagh, do you have a status report on the classrooms?”  Hood gripped his chair, restraining himself from bolting toward the turbolift.

"There is no response," Baagh growled through clenched teeth, "you are relieved to..."

Hood was running across the bridge at the commander's initial response.

***

Before dinner, Allan offered the traditional blessing passed on in his family since the Xindi Incident of 2153, after changing out of his uniform to civilian clothes.

"First, let us reflect on our own work and the effort of those who brought us this food, from the system designers, to the scientists, to the engineers. Second, let us be aware of the quality of our deeds as we receive this meal of the Earth.  Third, what is most essential is the practice of mindfulness, which helps us to transcend greed, anger and delusion, to better ourselves and our way of life.  Fourth, we appreciate this food which sustains the good health of our body and mind.  Fifth, in order to continue our practice for all beings we accept this offering.

''“But, Daddy, this is from the replicator; it’s not from Earth. Why don’t we mention the replicator that really created it?” asked Grace after her first bite of corn.''

“That’s a good question, with a long answer,” began Allan.

“Oh, no…” Gracie responded, catching a smile and a headshake from her mom.

''“The carbon, nitrogen and oxygen atoms in our bodies, the Earth, the ship, and what’s used in the replicator, all came from stars that existed a long time ago, it’s all the same. We’re all made from the same atoms produced in every star; we're all made of stardust. Through the replicator, it’s based on food designs from Earth, the very food that sustains our lives, and the lives of our ancestors. They all contain the same stardust.”''

''“‘We are a way for the universe to know itself,” Allan quoted Carl Sagan. “Some part of our being knows this is where we came from. We long to return. And we can, because the cosmos is also within us.’”   ''

Gracie thought about it for a moment.

“So, shouldn’t we say, ‘stardust’ instead?”

''“That’s a good point. How’d you get so smart?”''

“I get it from mommy,” Gracie replied honestly.

''The Hood family started eating their replicated steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn and bread with red wine synthehol. ''

Green beans and corn being Grace’s favorite, though she wouldn’t eat her green beans.

''“Why do you keep asking for green beans and not eat them?” asked Gracie’s father. She had eaten in this fashion since she was a baby.''

“It makes the corn taste better, but they’re not that good,” Gracie admitted with emphasis on the ‘that.’

***

Hood almost dashed through the opening turbolift door to the corridor, running toward the classrooms. Growing up, Hood always wondered why his father rarely brought his mother and older brother into space with him and understood better why his father had to turn in his resignation. It was not only the Cardassians, or the Borg, or the Dominion that his father wanted to avoid; it was not knowing the state of his family, the possibility of not being there for them. Having a family only gives you two options, either you bring them with you on your adventures, or you sit them out.

Allan chose to bring his own family with him, due to a distant and quiet vow he made in his childhood. He had so much fun exploring Sector 002, helping with planetary surveys, being his father's special assistant in Engineering, playing pranks on other officers, and running errands for Captain Jedlicka. He thought that this would be the year that his father would keep them all on board. Instead, when the patrol missions began again, he and Carson - his older brother, and mother, had to say their goodbyes.

The following year was the Battle of Wolf 359.

Hood ran up, pressing through the crowd of parents standing and searching for their children at the far end of the corridor to the classrooms. He relieved the security officers from restraining his wife, taking over himself. He tried reassuring her that Gracie probably has some smoke inhalation, but that’s it, not seeing any obvious signs of trauma on the surface, at least. Baby Donna looked scared in her mother's arms, looking at the crowd and smelling the smoke.

Through the smoke and heat, Lieutenant E'Kim stepped through like a ghost, carrying Gracie in his arms, handing her into Hood's arms. While holding them all, Hood reached out with his hand to E'Kim to shake his.

"Thank you very much for risking your life for my little girl," Hood said as they headed toward sickbay together, "we're forever in your debt."

***

In sickbay, Allan Hood looked over at an avian crewman with envy. A simple hypospray his, or hers, headache was gone. Gracie's coughing and nausea continued, with some vomiting. She kept slipping out of consciousness. In her waking hours, she was confused about where she was, sometimes thinking they were in their quarters and other times back on Deep Space Nine. Sami-Jo took Donna back to their quarters due to all the excitement, not wanting to leave her side. With Hood off duty, he switched watches with his wife.

“Mr. Hood, Gracie's suffering from burns to the nose, mouth and face,” began the nurse, “she's having difficulty breathing and has some carbonaceous sputum, burned saliva. We have her on a mechanical ventilator. We're using humidified oxygen, bronchodilators, suction, and chest physiotherapy. We're starting inhalation therapy with nebulized heparin and acetylcysteine. Due to the carbon monoxide we've detected, it's complicating her condition. We've administered supplemental oxygen at a fraction of inspired oxygen. Next, we'll use hyperbaric oxygen therapy and keep her overnight for evaluation. She should be fine by tomorrow.”

“Thank you, nurse,” Hood responded, striving to keep his emotions in check while hearing both the diagnosis and prognosis. Hood comforted himself with the knowledge that he was surrounded by state-of-the-art, 24th century technology. Hundreds of years ago, Gracie would have been more danger and in the hospital for weeks.

After the nurse stepped away, the father, and chief science officer aspects, in him combined and he began his own scans with a nearby medical tricorder, verifying the nurse's findings.

“You'll be all better soon, Gracie,” Hood whispered quietly.

Gracie Missing
Allan Hood took a late lunch, with all the repairs still going on. Instead of heading to the officer’s mess, he wanted to stop in at his family’s quarters to check on Gracie after her battle with smoke inhalation. Though the doctors assured him that she was fully recovered, he had to keep checking on her for peace of mind.

“Gracie, how are you doing?”  Allan called out after crossing the family’s threshold. “Gracie, you here?”

Allan knew that his wife, Sami-Jo, and youngest daughter, Donna, were not going to be home yet; Sami-Jo stayed late to finish interviewing the captain for the Federation News Service with Donna in tow. But, Gracie should be here.

“Computer, location of Grace Hood.”  Allan ordered.

“Grace Hood is located in Holodeck 2.”

Immediately, Hood was furious and worried about his daughter. She should come straight home after school and not stop and play on the holodeck.

Amidst the anger of disobeying her father, there was another emotion sneaking in the shadows. Pride? Pride in what? That his six-year-old daughter has enough confidence in herself to be on holodeck alone? Allan buried the questions and marched to the holodeck.

Allan stepped through the holodeck doors and into a dense forest at dusk. After a minute of his uniform getting caught on thorny vines and his head ducking branches, he had enough.

“Computer, negate tangibility.”  With that, Allan was able to walk through the forest as if he was out of phase with his surroundings.

After about hundred meters, he found himself standing before an old Roman stone tower, shortly after nightfall. A crowd of peasants, men, women and children all stood around, excitedly. By the red glow from huge torch-baskets, Allan saw a king and his court assembled, gazing off towards the tower. The wind began to pick up.

There stood a small, curly blonde-haired girl on a low protective wall of earth and stone, along the top edge of a trench, probably used to hide troops during a battle.

“You want to burn me up and I didn’t even do anything wrong! You’re always trying to make me look bad to people, sooo, I’m going to call down fire and blow up your tower! But, I’m going to give you a chance to stop me with your magic and see if your magic is better than my magic!”

“I can, fair lady, and I will,” called an old man, grumpily. “Doubt it not.”

The old man drew a circle on the stones with his finger and began burning incense. Those closest to the performance stepped back and the crowd seemed to cross-themselves in unison. The old man began chanting and waving his arms in the air, dramatically, as the wind picked up equally so, as if he was controlling the very winds himself. It began to drizzle, then rain harder. The lightning began to strike with greater frequency. It was a miracle the torches did not blow out.

“Okay, okay, your time’s up; I gave you all kinds of chances. Your magic is nothing! Now, it’s my turn…”

Gracie made three small waves in the air with her hands above her head.

To everyone’s surprise, not only did a lightning bolt strike the top of the tower, but, the tower exploded in brilliant brightness. Bricks and fire rained down on the people as they screamed and ran for cover, lifting their children into their arms as they ran. Some parents ran without grabbing their children, leaving them behind in fear. Chunks of the roof and walls landed amongst the people.

Part of the tower wall flew toward Allan, leaving him no time to dodge it successfully. As he ducked through instinct, the wall phased through and crashed on the tree behind him.

Allan marched through the mud, still out of phase with the holographic obstacles in his path, trying to ignore the occasional bricks and debris raining through him. He found Gracie laying in the holographic mud, covered in muck, laughing at her marvelous show.

“Where are you supposed to be right now?”  Allan asked, trying to look as angry as possible.

“At home waiting for Mommy,” Gracie replied guiltily from the muddy puddle.

“Who told you to go to the holodeck?”

“Nobody, Daddy.”

Hood could not help admire his daughter's work.

“Did you install the lightning rod yourself? Did you dig out the stones and bury the powder in the bricks like I showed you?”

“Yes, Daddy. I had Clarence help. The holodeck safeties were on the whole…

“Get home, now.”

“Computer, exit,” Gracie said with a frown and a sad voice, on the edge of tears. The light from the corridor served as our guide through the dark forest, rain and lightning all around.

As Gracie stepped into the corridor, her soaked holographic garb disappeared, revealing her modern school clothes underneath. She turned back to say something, then thought against it and kept walking back to their quarters.

“Computer, end program...and save,” Allan directed as he reached the holodeck doors.

The father and daughter duo walked quietly down the corridor, smiling to themselves for very different reasons.

Conference Meeting
Hood entered the empty conference room ten minutes early. He had the tendency to give the impression that he was really punctual, when the opposite was the case. Hood knew his true tendency to be tardy surfaced throughout his life, so he had to make an extra effort to arrive on time.

Hood brought up the science duty roster on the conference table’s internal display for his chosen seat. He was careful to sit in the middle of the table, facing the entry ways. After double checking the bridge and lab rotations, he went through rescheduling requests to help kill time.

He brought up the Lexington's three-dimensional flight trajectory to Cardassian planets on the conference table’s holographic projector. Nothing of interest on the way, just the Valo system, an inhabited planetary system on the outskirts of Cardassian territory.

Valo was a simple G-class star, similar to the Sun back home. The system had three M-class planets, Valo I, Valo II, and Valo III, all containing Bajoran settlements. Valo I also featured a Bajoran settlement on the third moon. Hood remembered that many Bajoran refugees fled to this system during the Occupation. While at the Academy, Hood learned that the Bajorans were struggling to survive. He had not heard much of the refugees since the war.

After sitting alone for five minutes, he checked the wall panels, double-checking type-2 phasers were in place, an old habit from the Dominion War.

The crew began trickling in just after Hood took his seat, again. He stood and greeted everyone as they entered. It was good seeing everyone after the attack, reassuring.

After everyone took their seats, Captain Thoms and Commander Baagh introduced the mission

"The Lexington will be dropping off supplies, including portable matter replicators and one industrial replicator for the colony world of Dorvan V. The goal is to help the colony become self-sufficient, again, as part of the Cardassia Union's Reconstruction.

"As representatives of Starfleet Command, I expect all of you to meet with the colonists and their leaders, earning the proverbial "hearts and minds."  We're going to take two weeks aiding these worlds, giving Federation aid and hospitality, helping the injured, reducing radiation levels and damage, and creating new homes and infrastructures, in addition to any general relief efforts.

"Cardassian space is teeming with Orions, Nausicaans, and Ferengi; they are taking advantage of the logistical chaos of these Cardassian colonies," Commander Baagh growled, the short hair on the top of his head and arms bristled. "Reports of Nausicaans enslaving colonists, Orions raiding ships, and Ferengi profiting by exploiting colonists, are all due to the desperate situation facing the Cardassians in protecting their border.

"The Lexington was expected to take all lawful steps necessary to safeguard the colonists through both negotiation and/or defense," the captain added. "After two weeks of aide, we'll head out to unexplored space, crossing the Alpha Quadrant.

After the captain and commander answer questions from their fellow officers, Captain Thoms introduced the Lexington's newest science officer.

"Lieutenant Allan Hood, our new Chief Science Officer, will be leading the way, charting our course, making sure we don't run aground," Captain Thoms half-joked. "Lieutenant, if you would?"

"At warp seven, it would take just over 11 days to cross a sector of twenty light-years," Hood said as he enlarged the ship's projected trajectory between the Badlands and the Tzenkethi Coalition. The holographically followed a model of the Lexington past the Rolor Nebula, to about a sector away from the Ferengi Alliance, sixty light-years from Earth, flying deeper into the northern circumpolar constellation of Draco.

"We'll be travelled through unexplored space for almost four sectors from the Badlands, along the edge of explored space, on the farside of the Black Cluster," Hood described, "and, yes, Deep Space 3 will be running the palio by the time we get there."

The officers laughed and commented, foretelling who's going to enter which contest and who would not.

“As for Dorvan V, the crops and vegetation that have grown on the radiation soaked surface have had plenty of time to absorb the pollutants and pass them on to their livestock and the colonists,” Hood began with some sympathy in his voice, “heavy metals from the Dominion’s attack will be made more potent through the biomagnification process.

“Like the radiation attack on Cardassia, it left toxic chemicals that travelled the food web of the planet, soaking into the soil and water systems. This means that their aquatic animals and vegetation are all exposed and consumed by other animals. In time, these polluted substances increase in concentration in the organisms as they move through the food web.

“Radiation is the gift that keeps on giving, travelling from phytoplankton to zooplankton, on up to the colonists and back. It’s not enough to cure the colonists; the entire planet needs cleansed.

“We’ll start a planet-wide decontamination process, eliminating all nuclear particles, preventing the spread of these particles, and lowering internal contamination. I’ll need access to our deflector dish, with your permission, Captain.

“After years of cleansing radiation on Cardassia, my team applied phytoremediation, using hyperaccumulators to clean up any residual contamination…plants that have the ability to take up high concentrations of toxic materials in their tissues.

“Since the colonists have been exposed to soil pollutants for a long period of time,” Hood said looking toward Doctor Lenses, “there’s going to be some genetic mutations in the colonists and vegetation, including hereditary defects and long-term health problems.”

“My team developed a successful plan to remove the antimatter radiation, sir,” Hood pitched as he offered his PADD to the captain. “It’s almost identical to what my restoration team did on Cardassia Prime, using the deflector dish to eliminate the radiation in the atmosphere. We only had to adapt it from the warmer and more humid climate of Cardassia to the mixed climate of Dorvan V. The soil and oceans will clear in a few days; the reaction will expand exponentially. We’ll be delivering a catalytic agent, creating an isolytic chain reaction, recombining the nucleonic particles in the planet’s environment.”

"This sounds too good to be true...what's the catch?" Captain Thoms asked.

“The catch, sir, is that the Lexington will be put at risk,” Hood continued, cautiously. “It creates a feedback pulse of radiation to our deflector when we fire into the troposphere. We have additional shield modification plans to lessen the risk to the ship by reversing the polarity through the plasma coils, then jettisoning the radiation through the nacelles.”

"I'll have the sections of the ship around the deflector dished evacuated to reduce radiation exposure to the crew," Lieutenant E'Kim suggested, studying the holographic projection.

“Not to mention the fact this could tear the deflector dish, or the nacelles, from the rest of the ship,” Lieutenant Eleutherio added.

“This is not first time a deflector array has been modified for something risky,” Commander Baagh growled, leaning back in his chair while still watching the hologram spinning above the table. Hood could not tell if Baagh was growling in agreement or criticism.

“If this is what it takes to cleanse the planet's radiation, then, by all means: do it,” ordered Captain Thoms.

Science Teams
“Any questions?” Hood asked his science teams after his hour long presentation on the dais, complete with interactive holograms of each step of the process. After fielding some questions from the mixed alien races, he began assigning tasks and handing out PADDs to team leaders, which stood around the mini-auditorium.

“I want Alpha Team working on our catalytic agent. Make sure the chain reaction is isolytic and cascades properly in the simulations. Remember to take Dorvan V’s mixed climate into account; Cardassia has much higher heat and humidity, overall.

“Beta Team, I want you guys working with Engineering on the deflector dish, shields, and structural integrity. The specs have to be perfect and with no margin for error; we only get one shot and there aren’t any second chances.

“Gamma and Delta teams, you’ll be double-checking and verifying Alpha’s and Beta’s work. Make sure all their i’s are dotted and their t’s are crossed. Go over everything with a fine-toothed comb. Hayden, I want you to take a break from Stellar Cartography and join Delta.”

“Epsilon, you’ll be monitoring the feedback pulse of radiation to our deflector when we fire into the troposphere. Constantly adjust the harmonics to compensate for the pulse’s energy inconsistencies. Ride the levels so they don’t get out of line.

“If your teams keep the energy levels within the established parameters, not only will we get to keep our deflector, but we won’t have to worry about a subspace implosion from the warp core, either,” Hood joked, “worst case scenario.”

“Crewmen, I want you to divide yourselves among the five teams. Pick someone to shadow and stay on them, you’ll be their temporary assistant for this project.”

Hood looked at his teams with pride, authentic pride, in their abilities and potential accomplishments within this project, not to mention their potential in uncharted space.

“Any additional questions?” Hood asked expectantly.

“Dismissed.”

Beaming down to Dorvan V
"Don't breathe in too deeply," Hood said, half-jokingly."

Hood raised and unfolded his TR-590 Mark XI, activating the tricorder. He had a hard time moving on to the new PADD-like tricorders Starfleet introduced a couple years prior; the large touchscreen interface just did not feel right to him.

"Not only is the planet suffering from the effects of antimatter radiation," Hood continued, "it's suffering from an additional dose of radiation from their sun due to their deteriorated ozone layer. I'm picking up traces of both galactic cosmic radiation and solar particle event radiation, which should be blocked by the atmosphere. At these levels, just like on Cardassia, DNA damage is inevitable, for both flora and fauna.

"This damage has created increased levels of chromosomal aberrations in the surrounding plants," Hood said to the away team as he pivoted his tricorder around. "The ionizing radiation has produced reactive oxygen species, chemically reactive chemical species containing oxygen."

"I'm detecting elevated amounts of peroxides, superoxide, hydroxyl radical, singlet oxygen, and alpha-oxygen, which is damaging the cell structures of these plants," Hood said after kneeling for a closer scan of native plants and insects. "The lifespan of these plants and insects is significantly shorter due to the lack of specific antioxidant enzymes and oxidative stress.

"I'm afraid to see how the colonists are doing," Hood said to E'Kim and Ba'el, rising and closing his tricorder, replacing it back in its holster. "Even the Nausicaans may suffer from gastrointestinal effects, such as nausea and vomiting. I'm expecting to see a higher risk of infections and bleeding among the colonists and visitors. After years of exposure, humanoids usually suffer from neurological effects, like seizures, tremors, and lethargy. Doctor Lense, may have her work cut-out for her."

"I recommend gentle interaction with the Dorvanians and we should keep our distance from any artifacts displayed," cautioned Ba'el.

"I completely agree, Counselor," Hood replied back. It was easy to forget her mixed heritage, until she was serious. When she meant business, she easily slipped back to a Klingon or Romulan personality, which anyone would expect. Hood admired her ability to swap and adapt her personality to her surroundings, sometimes Klingon, sometimes Romulan, sometimes the personality of the person she was engaged with, transitioning smoothly to whichever culture she was interacting. He appreciated her desire to soften the Klingon/Romulan stereotype for the benefit of others.

"There were times in my family's history that we fought alongside the natives and fought against them, too," Hood began. "My family fought with the Leni Lenape and the Susquehannocks while defending New Sweden against the English in the Province of Maryland in 1644, only for us to turn on them generations later."

"Maybe you're here to help 'erase the stain of blood' from your family," Ba'el suggested.

***

Chief Science Officer Allan Hood walked through the village in the late afternoon, taking in biological, environmental and radiation scans, as the rest of his team did under his direction. While walking in the fall-like temperatures on Earth, he understood why the Native Americans bonded with this planet; the environment seemed similar to North America’s prior to the nineteenth century.

The village contained a plaza, a town square, and a council house large enough to hold all the villagers during a village meeting. A wall of tall poles tied together surrounded the perimeter made from the planet's trees. The buildings were constructed of native rivercane and plaster, with thatched roofs of straw, water reeds, and something similar to palm fronds. There was a larger seven-sided building, probably for ceremonial purposes, and a once open field with benches for competitions, now covered with overgrowth.

As the Lexington gathered most of the data from orbit, the science team spread out, gathering additional minute data that the ship’s sensors would have difficulty detecting. The more accurate their scans, the more likely they would calibrate the catalytic agent correctly. If the catalytic agent is not calibrated correctly, then the reaction would not be isolytic and would fail to cascade properly, wasting everyone’s time.

***

Hood’s tricorder, and his nose, detected someone cooking in the distance, in the direction he was walking. While following a deer path, he came across a round home made of wood and covered with mud and a roof of bark, which featured smoke holes to let smoke out through the top.

As he approached the household, he noticed fields of sickly corn, squash and beans, along with pumpkin, melons, sunflowers, and tobacco. Most of the fields were dead, the rest of the harvest had growths on the surface.

An elderly bald man worked outside, wearing a single lock of hair on the crown of his head tied in a topknot. He was building what seemed to be some animal trap with sticks and string. He wore something similar to deerskin loincloths, with leggings, and a robe. Moccasins covered his feet. Hood could not tell if his face was either tattooed or painted.

The elderly man ignored Hood’s proximity and continued working, not looking up. A dugout canoe laid near the home while a canal led from their home to the river, just barely out of sight.

An elderly woman came through the home’s opening, she waved toward Hood, inviting him inside, her face emotionless. She wore a wraparound skirt and a poncho-style blouse made out of woven fibers and something similar to deerskin, leggings and moccasins. She adorned herself with jewelry made from shells, silver, and painted clay beads.

Hood holstered his tricorder and approached the couple with his hands raised.

The woman back peddled inside, leading Hood through the meter high opening, almost crawling. Inside, their home was decorated with colorful rugs, baskets, and wall hangings. A fire burned in the center. Blowguns, bows and arrows, animal traps, nets to catch fish, and spears leaned on the walls around the interior.

Base Camp
For 220 years, Starfleet has conducted exploratory missions, in addition to the occasional battle or war. All of which, has been continued by base camps.

Developing base camps is not anything new for Starfleet. As technology increases, the technological and logistical footprint has increased, making site selection and facility layout, crucial.

Command Niko Baagh realized that the Lexington base camp had the privilege of setting the foundation for future units, from other ships, to use the camp after Lexington continued on its continuing mission, to support and defend the Dorvanians. Which meant, Baagh wanted to make sure that their operations would be sustained through the eventual hand-off, requiring him to oversee the ability to re-supply, in the future, and the establishment of a logistical support structure. He took it personal.

As an additional challenge, the Dorvanians, with their sacred environmental beliefs and standards, sent the Starfleet camp development back hundreds of years, in an effort to decrease the size of Starfleet's footprint on the planet’s surface.

Yet, the base must keep in mind: protection and crew morale. The base camp’s design, management and reengineering all took steps back to keep with the Dorvanians’ expectations.

If it was not for the Dorvanians desperate situation, there would not be a base camp permitted on the surface at all. Instead, an agreement an agreement was made that if their village was to be medically treated, and protected from the Nausicaans, and other raiders, some concessions would have to be made.

With a forcefield perimeter around the base, there was a command post, a makeshift tower defense system, a power generator, a terminal of replicators, an armory, a dining area, medical stations, and a fire station.

In an effort to keep Starfleet’s footprint as small as possible, such things as holodecks, common areas, athletic fields, and running trails were scrapped from the traditional drawing board. Everything that was standing was able to be torn down and beamed away, making as little impact on the environment as possible.

After beaming into the command post, Baagh spent an hour walking the perimeter with his tricorder, looking for any fluctuations the forcefield’s strength. He checked the power levels in the generator and talked to the officers maintaining it, hearing the typical responses, as he hoped.

Baagh talked to those in the dining area about the replicator food and checked the terminals himself.

The medical and fire stations were up-to-par, too, as expected.

The commander did not want to take anything for granted, considering the strategic plans that were about to be put into action. Though he knew he was not alone, he felt the responsibility squarely upon his shoulders: to safeguard the Dorvanians, establish the base camp, and, above all, protect his officers.

Breaking Bread with Dorvanians
Hood joined the elderly Dorvanian around the fire in the center of the home. There did not seem to be any electrical power being used. He wrestled with the temptation to activate his tricorder to verify, but, did not want to risk insulting the family after being invited in their home.

As they sat around the fire, the matriarch offered Hood their food. Hood inadvertently hesitated as he sampled the wild Dorvanian meat, Terran and Dorvanian corn and bean bread, Terran pumpkins and sweet potato and dried Dorvanian fruit, knowing how contaminated it was with radiation, both visually and from previous sensor scans outside the residence.

Hood noticed sacks of food stored in a loft above their heads.

“Our fruit is dried by the sun,” the elderly woman said. “All of our fruit is peeled and cut in small pieces, then hung to dry outside on the pole scaffold, before storing it.”

“We belong to the Ani-Yunwiya, the ‘principal people,’ the old man said, suddenly sitting down next to his wife, to Hood’s surprise. “We belong to the Wild Potato Clan. We lived around the American Great Lakes and first encountered European invaders in the southeast, almost eight hundred years ago. By then, we lived mostly in the Great Appalachian Valley. Diseases brought by the Spaniards, and their animals, decimated our people.

“Six forts were built by the invaders, near Nikwasi, Estatoe, Tugaloo, Conasauga, and Kituwa…our homes. We struck back at the invaders in Florida. Governor James Moore of South Carolina had a goal to “set upon, assault, kill, destroy, and take captive as many” of my people as possible.

“In spite of all of this, the Ani-Yunwiya were the most populous and powerful,” the elder continued with sadness and pride. “We fought with the Chickasaw and British against the Shawnee and the French. We fought alongside the Yamasee, Catawba, and British against the Tuscarora in the Second Tuscarora War, beginning our migration to the north. We were allies with the English through most of the 18th century.

“Again, the invaders brought their diseases,” the lady elder added. “Smallpox epidemics broke out, killing nearly half of our people. Hundreds of my people committed suicide due to the disease’s disfigurement of those the invaders infected.

Hood was captivated by his surroundings, the food, their voices and their story. There was desperate need for understanding, a respect that seemed long forgotten or underappreciated. Was the elderly couple blaming Hood or his ancestors? Or, was the couple simply telling their family's history? Or, both?

“Again, we fought with the British against the French, then the British fought against us,” the old man described. “We joined with the Shawnee, Delaware, and Mingo tribes against the invaders. We later joined Hokoleskwa to defend our people from sickness and the destruction of our way of life. Yet, the invaders destroyed fifty of our towns, leading us to sign fragile treaties.

“Again, we fought against the invaders. This time against the Americans, in back-and-forth raids, campaigns, ambushes, skirmishes, and several full-scale frontier battles with the invaders. We finally decided to move away from the invaders’ settlements and live in peace. Instead, the invaders not only interfere with our moving away, but, then step in to ‘relocate’ us, again.

“We were displaced from our ancestral lands as the invaders’ population grew, chasing after their wealth,” the old woman said.

“Instead of fighting with our lives, we decided to fight the invaders with their own laws, within their own courts. The invaders even ruled in our favor, that we are entitled to federal protection from the actions of state governments.

“In spite of the invaders ruling in our favor, we were forcibly relocated westward along the Nvna Daula Tsvyi,” he stated. “Some of us fought to live where we wanted. Six hundred became citizens of the invaders while around four hundred hid among the Snowbird Mountains. Another four hundred stayed in their ancestor’s homes, refusing to leave.

“We fought again in the invaders’ civil war, at our expense, devastating our people, only for the invaders to turn around and sell us our own land back, on a limited reserve.

“We decide to move away, again, away from, not only our ancestral lands, but, our ancestral planet as well,” the matriarch concluded. “And again, invaders not only come here, but, they follow us from our ancestral planet, deciding and planning for us, expecting us to be ‘relocated,’ again, even if by force, even though our representatives objected.

“We reject the invaders’ demands, again, and turn to a species, a people we don’t know for sanctuary, for protection of our new home,” the old man added. “We have lived in peace with this new people, until they brought your war to our soil.

“Today, you say it was another people and not you, specifically, but, it was your people, Starfleet, who went to war with them, in general, bringing their war, their retaliation to our planet,” he accused as his wife offered Hood more food.

“This time, new invaders, a new species of invaders come and take our people as slaves to work their mines and we are expected to turn to our old invaders for help?” the old man asked.

“Again, invaders bring their diseases, their wars, and their destruction to my people, destroying our environment and crops, in addition to making our people sick with radiation. But, I am to trust you?

With that, the old man stood up and left the meal. Hood could not but understand the centuries-old anger and mistrust, built up in him, as part of their cultural outlook of outsiders. How could he blame them when all his people want is to live in peace?

Hood stood up, and quietly thanked the old woman. He offered for her and her husband to visit his family on the Lexington, which she declined. He understood.

“One to beam up,” Hood said after tapping his combadge. He reflected on everything the elderly Dorvanian couple told him, trying to figure out his place within this centuries-old story. He knew he would be reflecting on their talk for the rest of his life and would pass on this philosophy to his children and grandchildren.

“Energize.”

Dorvanian Skies
Hood loved Engineering. The heart and soul of the ship. Though the ship's many science labs felt like second homes, Engineering was the life of the ship.

If this planet was to be saved, Engineering was the last step to the planet's salvation. Anything that was to be made practical in the science labs had to be processed and implemented through Engineering.

There was a slight clash between the mindsets of his science team and the engineering teams. Hood's science teams were more open to suggestions, open to experimentation; not limiting themselves to what was written in stone. Whereas, the engineers, with a few scientists at heart, generally speaking, seemed to favor more practical applications. They did not seem to have their "heads in a cloud" as the science team. The engineers seemed to be more practical, looking at what can be done and what could not be done. They focused more on the how’s and not so much on the why’s.

The Ops personnel seemed to be running as ambassadors between the engineers and visiting science teams. They ran the science errands that the engineers would not touch and vice versa. They worked as the common middle ground between the two divisions. They were often found between an engineering officer and a science officer, talking to both, if not refereeing a disagreement.

Hood leaned heavily on the master systems display, otherwise known as “the pool table.”  He was admitting more and more how much he disliked dealing with radiation, despite his J. Bruce Award in Radiobiology. Nowadays, Temporal, Quantum and Relativistic Mechanics, Warp Field Theory, and Exoarchaeology have not been in demand, as they once were.

Hopefully, the Lexington will see the end of that, Hood often thought to himself.

Hood's science team leaders checked in with him, giving their final status report.

Alpha Team successfully balanced the catalytic agent. Hood triple-checked that the chain reaction was isolytic and cascaded as expected. The team even took Cardassia's higher heat and humidity into account.

Beta Team and an engineering team reported that the deflector dish, shields, were re-calibrated and re-enforced with a boost to structural integrity.

Gamma and Delta teams presented their findings, verifying Alpha’s and Beta’s work.

Finally, Epsilon showed evidence that they were prepared for the radiation feedback pulse to the deflector. They showed simulation results that their troposphere strategy counteracted the feedback pulse. Their results showed they knew the precise parameters to ride the levels within, adjusting the harmonics for compensating the pulse’s energy inconsistencies.

Hood congratulated his teams' efforts on a job well done and offered to "buy" drinks for everyone in the mess when this was all over.

"Hood to Captain Thoms," Hood called after tapping his combadge, "we're ready down here when you are, sir."

"Do it," ordered the captain.

***

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, it’s the moment of truth…” Hood said not meaning to sound overly dramatic. The truth of the matter was that the planet’s health, and those of the colonists, all hung in the balance. The colonists, and their ancestors, had been through enough, over the last half millennium.

Science and Engineering had been working on the planet-wide decontamination process for long enough. All Science and Engineering teams checked in and seemed to have their ducks in a row. After dotting some i’s and crossing some t’s, they were ready.

"Activate the isolynic chain reaction."

A white-purplish beam fired into the troposphere. Epsilon Team monitored the feedback pulse of radiation to the deflector.

“Adjust the harmonics to compensate for the pulse’s energy inconsistencies!” Hood called out as the ship began to vibrate. He had to fight the urge to push his people aside and take over. He knew he had to trust his team and Engineering to do their jobs. “Ride the levels!”

***

The light brown clouds started to turn black.

“Status report,” Thoms ordered.

“So far so good, Captain,” Hood replied. “We’re working on keeping our deflector while avoiding that subspace implosion from the warp core.

“Beginning plasma coil ventilation process of excess radiation through the warp nacelles,” the Hood updated. Not taking his eyes of the sky, the captain watched the brown afternoon sky ripple, accelerating green-blue energy waves through the clouds.

Hood had his team shutdown the feedback pulse and deactivate the deflector before re-initializing it to its main purpose, generating a forcefield to protect the ship from enemy attacks or natural hazards.

“Water vapor is cooling and condensing around the planet’s dust and condensation nuclei, sir.  You might want to get your umbrellas out down there…”

“Well done, Lexington,” Thoms said, catching raindrops in his hand. "The Dorvanians are collecting the water, drinking it from the sky," Thoms added while watching the Dorvanian children playing in safe and clean rain for the first time in their lives. "You should see how much these kids are having."

Cheers went up all around Engineering and the Science Labs.

"Drinks on me," Hood reminded everyone as they headed for the mess hall.

The Time Machine
“Any real body must have extension in four directions: it must have Length, Breadth, Thickness, and—Duration,” explained a man excitedly to his friends, walking, and almost dancing, around a late-nineteenth century home. His friends consisted of someone from a medical background, a psychologist, a politician, an editor, and a reporter, a young man of an undeclared occupation, and someone who refused to give into the discussion, perhaps someone of a religious background.

“But through a natural infirmity of the flesh, which I will explain to you in a moment,” the animated and dynamic man began with his speech to a room full of people dressed in late 1800s fashion. “We incline to overlook this fact. There are really four dimensions, three which we call the three planes of Space, and a fourth, Time. There is, however, a tendency to draw an unreal distinction between the former three dimensions and the latter, because it happens that our consciousness moves intermittently in one direction along the latter from the beginning to the end of our lives.”

Allan Hood loved hearing this lecture on the holodeck among the incandescent lights and the almost modern looking patented chairs designed by the lecturer, himself. Everything seemed to be clashing at once, both across time and space. He walked around the room, listening to the lecture and trying out the eccentric-looking chairs for this age. Hood needed this escape after dealing cleansing the planet’s radiation problems for days on end.

“But some philosophical people have been asking why three dimensions particularly,” the lecturer explained, seemingly pointing his finger at his ideas in midair, “why not another direction at right angles to the other three?—and have even tried to construct a Four-Dimensional geometry. Professor Simon Newcomb was expounding this to the New York Mathematical Society only a month or so ago. You know how on a flat surface, which has only two dimensions, we can represent a figure of a three-dimensional solid, and similarly they think that by models of three dimensions they could represent one of four—if they could master the perspective of the thing. See?”

“For the sake of argument,” Hood said to the room of friends, “I must bring up that Professor Simon Newcomb makes the point that building a ‘flying machine’ is impossible, for instance. He bases his logic on the fact that as our speed slows, we begin to fall. Soon as we stop moving, we’ll drop as a ‘dead mass,’ concluding that we could never build something that both supports someone’s weight, and propels someone through the air, simultaneously. Newcomb suggests that we’d have to add an element to the periodic table and discover some new force to ‘lift’ an object into the air.”

The lecturer considered Hood’s words for a minute. “My dear Mister Hood, simply because one finds something difficult to understand, or are unaware of how to properly enhance a mechanism, one should not conclude that the probability of its existence, especially in some future time, will never materialize. Complex subjects like the speculation of flight and the practicality of the fourth dimension, require some amount of understanding before one is able to make an informed judgement about the subject at hand.”

Hood smiled to himself while considering the irony of a fictional time traveler of the late 1800s in opposition to the chief science officer, who based his career on the study of temporal mechanics.

“Point made, my friend,” Hood conceded. “To build on your premise, if there truly is a fourth dimension, could there also be a fifth and a sixth? Could these dimensions ever increase at right angles to each other, indefinitely?”

Again, the lecturer considered Hood’s words while the others watched, smoking their cigars and lighting those waiting.

“As for higher dimensions, I make no argument for or against,” the lecturer began, “I only speak of which I have practical knowledge and experience, though, I imagine there must be an ever increasing, infinite number of mathematical dimensions.”

“Then, if that is the case,” Hood continued, indirectly hinting at Einstein-Maxwell field equations, “wouldn’t the fifth dimension, from your viewpoint of a four-dimensional theory, be derived from a five-dimensional theory with complete symmetry in all five dimensions? Would that suggest that electromagnetism resulted from a gravitational field that is ‘polarized’ in the fifth dimension?”

“My dear sir!” the orator exclaimed. “Electromagnetism? Gravitational polarization? How do you go from a skeptical position to that of one tangent to our native topic? Again, I must say that I only speak of which I have practical knowledge and experimental verification, which is the fourth dimension, in particular!”

“Experimental verification!” cried out one listening. “You are going to verify that?”

“The experiment!” cried out the redheaded news editor.

“Let’s see your experiment anyhow,” said one who claimed to be a psychologist, “though it’s all humbug, you know.”

The orator eventually retreated amongst all the skepticism and retrieved a working model of his time machine and laid it upon a table beside his lamp. Everyone stood around, asking questions, gawking at the strange device, laughing to themselves. With a length about that of a phaser, the device featured a thin metallic framework of nickel, brass, ivory and transparent crystal.

“It took two years to make,” the Time Traveler began. “Now, I want you clearly to understand that this lever, being pressed over, sends the machine gliding into the future, and this other reverses the motion. This saddle represents the seat of a time traveler. Presently, I am going to press the lever, and off the machine will go. It will vanish, pass into future Time, and disappear. Have a good look at the thing. Look at the table too, and satisfy yourselves there is no trickery. I don’t want to waste this model, and then be told I’m a quack.”

“The crystal must channel chronitons,” Hood said breaking character, “it seems that a small chronokinetic surge forms and is released to that superconductive crystal, which would emit a chroniton flux.”

“Chronitions, you say?” the time traveler asked.

“They are subatomic particles with temporal properties,” Hood clarified.

“However you may designate them or style them, this operation is under my patent, my good man!” the time traveler exclaimed and laughed. “Please do not speculate too well!”

The time traveler reached across and took the hand of the psychologist, possibly the most skeptical of the group, to activate the device. Upon triggering the machine, there was an odd breeze that caused the lamp’s flame to increase, momentarily, blowing out one of the mantel’s candles. The model began to spin, become transparent, and disappeared from our temporal frame of reference.

“Allan,” Sami-Jo Hood, called over the holodeck’s intercom. “When are you coming home? Are you still in the holodeck?”

“Look here,” said that of a suspected medical background, “are you in earnest about this? Do you seriously believe that that machine has travelled into time?”

“Sorry, wife,” Hood called up into the air, “I lost track of time. I’m on my way home.”

“Certainly,” said the time traveler. “What is more, I have a big machine nearly finished in there…”

“Computer, end program and save.”

Planetary Survey
With the radiation clearing, Hood’s science team worked on the science division’s secondary objective:  conducting a planetary survey for colonization, resources, and updating the knowledge of the planet’s current culture and society. Hood guessed that Starfleet was still interested in Dorvan V and already had a baseline conducted on the planet. This new updated survey was to show the impact of radiation after the planet was soaked and how the Dorvanians adapted.

What are the side effects? How did the radiation affect the flora and fauna of the planet? Which resources were contaminated and unsalvageable? How has the Dorvanians’ culture changed as a result of the attack?

The Dorvanians’ culture and society, before the attack, was well documented by themselves and the crew of the Enterprise-D eleven years ago. Now, it seems, Starfleet wants to know how they progressed, if possible.

Hood’s science teams were reassigned from the radiation project to the planetary survey, to answer Starfleet’s questions, among others, that were expected to crop up.

Hood looked forward to filing the planetary survey report, documenting the findings of his teams, with their analyses.

Walking amongst the teams, Hood soaked up everything they scanned. There were giant rhinos/elephants as tall as a giraffe and a creature with the back of a camel, snout like a pig, body like an antelope, and saber-teeth. There were also giant scaled badgers darting around, trying not to be tagged by the biologists.

As for insects, the teams found beetles covered in sharp feathers, flying scorpion-like arachnids, humming ant-like creatures and a meter long, hairy worm-like snake with seven pairs of microlegs, ending in claws, and long spines sprouting from its back. Teeth filled its mouth and all the way down its throat, which seemed to flex in and out as it swallowed.

Besides mapping stars and charting nebulae, Hood loved exploring the unknown possibilities of existence. How did life evolve on this planet? How will the radiation effect the evolution of the flora and fauna? What can we learn from life’s experiences on this planet that may help the Federation? Though the last question was a stretch, it was always kept in mind.

Mindfulness Meditation
Each day, after his shift, it was Allan Hood's habit to meditate in their quarters or on the holodeck. Being on a Class M planet, Hood took advantage of the planet's natural, inviting, environment. Instead of beaming back to the ship, Hood asked the captain for permission to stay behind for two hours on the planet's surface. With permission granted, he headed for a small mount just outside the village.

Hood found the biggest tree on the top of the mount and sat under it, crossing his legs. Opening his tricorder, he made it ready to detect any carnivorous lifeforms, setting the proximity alarm for a ten-meter radius, and adjusting the timer for sixty minutes. Afterward, he sat up straight, resting his hands on his knees to give his back more support, while maintaining a natural balance. Though slightly winded from the climb, he focused on his breathing. Not forcing his breath, simply letting it in and out at its own natural pace.

Feeling his breath resume its regular resting breathing pattern, he focused on them, breathing in and out, aiming to clear his other thoughts. Images of his wife and daughters, his terminal, the bridge, and the Dorvanians flashed between breaths. He acknowledged each image, giving them some attention and resumed his breathing.

Images of the survey team, potential dangers, and duty assignments flashed among his breathing. To counter, he refocused momentarily on his breathing again. After acknowledging his thoughts, he began his mental bodyscan by focusing on the top of his head. He felt a slight breeze through his hair, changing direction, mostly blowing from the southeast. After a few moments, he moved his awareness down to his ears, listening to the alien birds, lizards, and other animals in the distance.

His mind wandered to his tricorder. Did he set it correctly? Are there any malfunctions? When was the last diagnostic? Again, Hood went back to his breathing, feeling his breath move in and out of him to counter the human's brain natural tendency to worry. He drifted his awareness to his nose, taking in the smells, the alien flowers and grass-like plants round him. Everything smelled sweet and fresh, though healing from the radiation, the planet was making a fast recovery. Hood felt he could smell the planet healing.

Working his awareness down to his mouth, shoulders and chest, he felt his heart beating faster as his mind brought up the suffering of the colonists. How long have they gone without traditional food? How long have the children been suffering from the radiation? Why types of health problems rose before they go there? Hood acknowledged each concern in turn, focusing again on his breathing to recenter himself.

After moving down to his feet, his calming mind grasped for attention, again. This time, his brain panicked. What if our calculations were off? What if the captain didn't trust his decisions? What if he's recalled back to Cardassia and transferred away from this mission?

Once more, he brought his attention to his breath, ignoring any judgement, giving his thoughts and fears the slightest attention to keep them at bay. Breathing in and out, in and out...

Then the tricorder's soft alarm went off, alerting him that an hour had passed. Feeling refreshed, with his thoughts in order, he stood and walked back down the mount to the base camp, taking in the beauty and life around him.

The Egwanulti
Hood walked along the Egwanulti, heading upstream, following the old man, which he ate with days ago, who still would not give his name. The river was called “Egwanulti” in the Cherokee language, combining the names equoni for “river” and nulati for “near,” named after ancient Cherokee villages located on the shores of a similar river on Earth.

At first, Hood fought to keep his tricorder in its holster, taking in the natural beauty around him. Though the vegetation were similar to Earth, the animals seemed prehistoric. The old man guided Hood through a canopy of alien trees, finding those similar to eastern hemlock, red maple, yellow buckeye, beech, sycamore, white basswood, dogwood and tuliptrees. After consulting his tricorder, Hood saw that the river stretched sixteen kilometers from the village where it eventually split into several smaller creeks, steadily flowing from a peak of six-hundred meters into the mountains.

Hood turned the tricorder toward the ground and the mountainside to discover that the underlying area around the massif contained some of the oldest exposed rocks on the southern continent. The granite gneiss was formed over a billion years ago from the gradual accumulation of marine sediment and igneous rocks.

The Dorvanians, especially those of the Cherokee tribe, considered the river sacred. Besides giving fresh water to the settlement, it reminded a lot of those in the Cherokee tribe of their homes back on Earth.

To show his appreciation for helping to clean the environment, the old man wanted to take Hood to an area he called Ya'nu-u'nata wasti'yi, “Where the bears wash.”  Of course, there were not any bears on the planet, but, there was not any word for the creatures.

While adjusting settings on his tricorder, Hood began walking closer to the river, leaving the footsteps the old man left for him to follow, only for the old man to quietly grab his right arm above the elbow and bring him back to the animal trail they were following. The old man brought his finger to his lips and walked bent over, gliding his left moccasin above any rocks and slowly, silently, pressing his foot back to the ground.

Hood’s Starfleet issue boots did not conform to the terrain, leading his ankles to wobble at times, loudly breaking twigs as they walked next to the ancient river along the mountainside incline to their right.

The farther they walked, the slower and lower the old man moved, like a shadow through the daylight, unseen through the trees and bushes.

Hood tried mimicking his walking pattern, lifting one foot high enough to clear any small branches and grass, extending it forward and slowly moving it towards the ground. He kept his toes up as his foot fell close to the ground. He landed on the outside of the ball of his foot, first, not putting his full weight on it. Then, he rolled his foot sideways, letting the rest of the ball slip onto the ground to feel for any stones or sticks that might give away their position.

Hood watched as he would detect a twig through his moccasin and instead of snapping it, the old man put his foot somewhere else and try again, without looking. He lowered his heel to the ground, then his toes, transferring his total weight, with his hands balanced on his knees for extra support.

Then, the old man froze. Not moving, no hand signals, just staring. Hood closed his tricorder carefully and looked up. A heard of bearlike dogs, or doglike bears, were drinking from the river. Dark in color, with stripes matching the trees, they panted in the heat between massive gulps of water running down their wide necks. Their legs were enormously muscular, considering the amount of fur covering them. Standing slightly over waist-high, one growled at another when it got too close.

A second later, Hood felt fear set. These doglike bears could easily surround the two of them, a few may even be sneaking up on them now. Hood reached for his phaser just as the old man’s eyes silently darted to Hood’s hand, silently screaming to not move. Reluctantly, Hood obeyed.

Giant rhinoceros-like elephants, or elephant-like rhinoceroses, began stepping into view. The dogbears moved farther downstream, closer to Hood and the old man, though the rhinoelephants were across the river. Again, the old man darted his eyes to Hood, keep Hood’s phaser in its holster by sheer will.

Catlike dogs leapt from the trees across the river from the duo and made their way closer to the elephant-rhinos, hissing at the beardogs along the way. Massive barkgrowls erupted from the dogbears, countering the hissing, but neither heard dared crossing the river, as if there was a mutual understanding. The elephant-rhinos did not seem concerned by either herds’ performance.

Minature horselike wolves, only knee-high to the two humans, walked within arm’s-length and crossed the trail in front of them to get to the river. The last one froze in the trail, staring at Hood and the old man, unsure of what to do. Then, it darted out into the river, past those of its kind. As it called out, one of the catlike dogs pounced on it, causing an uproar from the beardogs. The beardogs circled the downed horsewolves, biting at the cat creatures. One of the elephant animals stomped a catdog and used its massive tusks to sling it into the river.

The old man did not move the entire time. The world seemed to be coming to an end in front of them and the old man did not flinch. Hood held his ground until he suddenly saw one of the dogbears growlbark in their direction, calling on another to follow it. The creatures ran through the woods, leaping downed trees, heading straight to the two humans.

Hood brought out his phaser, hesitated, and fired. Instead of hitting its intended target, it shot straight up to the sky, realizing the old man pushed Hood's firing arm up, just past the elbow. Losing is balance, Hood fell back as the old man turned to face his two attackers, unarmed.

“Emergency transport!” Hood called into his communicator after slamming the combadge. “Two to beam up!”

They materialized in a transporter room, Hood laying on the ground, phaser now aiming in the air, with the old man standing over him. A disappointed look hung on his face. The ops crewman ran toward the downed lieutenant.

“As you were, crewman,” Hood called to him as he got to his feet. “Only my pride is injured.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Beam us back to the main settlement,” Hood said after searching the old man’s disappointed countenance and standing up alongside him.

“Energize.”

Bedtime
“Are you coming to bed?” Sami-Jo Hood, Allan’s wife, asked from the bedroom.

“In a minute,” Allan called back, “just want to figure a couple more things out.”  Sami-Jo knew that meant he would be another hour, at least.

Allan turned back to his desk terminal, custom additions added, making it into a small laboratory in their quarters. He had a small electron microscope, holographic projectors, and mini-terminals for small astrophysical, geological, biological, medical, chemical, and electrical experiments.

Allan’s love for science and his family overlapped often, sometimes conflicting with each other, though he found ways to manage. Bringing his family on an interstellar Starfleet mission to map unknown space, for instance.

Bedtime, when Allan’s theta waves formed in his brain, is the time ideas flowed effortlessly, spontaneously, and very positive. As a result of new ideas entering his head, Allan automatically headed to his workstation, bringing his brainwaves back up to beta and alpha, amidst his wife’s, and sometimes children’s, protests.

Allan worked on a small holographic model of transporter relay stations. His dream, in both alpha and theta wavelengths, involved a transporter relay station network that stretched across the Federation, connecting solar systems to space stations, to outposts, and starships.

Of course, this is not an original idea. Yet, the need and the possibility of such technology seemed within Starfleet’s grasp and needed perfected, motivated and sought after.

Transporters already dip into subspace when sending a pattern from one location to another. Though transportation is the safest way to travel, the dipping into subspace, for fractions of a second, is where the danger lurks.

After 40,000 kilometers, it becomes harder to keep the pattern intact while traveling in subspace. Though an object’s molecules and atoms get scatter and recollected, at least the pattern is stored and safe. But, if that pattern is lost, while in subspace, that pattern can be lost forever.

Allan was always tempted by “subspace transporters,” transporters with the ability to transport patterns light-years away, instead of merely tens of thousands of kilometers. The name, “subspace transporters,” always irked him; all transporters use subspace. The ones known as “subspace transporters” rely heavily on the assumption that subspace will remain stable at such great distances.

Starfleet found the perfect subspace frequency for transporters functioning within tens of thousands of kilometers, but, stretch that over light-years and the frequency does not do the trick.

When matter travels in subspace for light-years, especially a molecular pattern, strange things happen. For one, the matter enters a state of quantum flux, making the matter itself highly unstable, easily degradable and more likely to lose a pattern lock. Starfleet recorded officers and crewmen, while scientists performed experiments, that involved people and objects that have rematerialized in alternate dimensions, accidentally entering a fifth dimensional alternate existence by beaming through the sixth dimension.

As a result, the Federation researched “subspace transporter technology” and found it “impractical.”  The stamp of impracticality lead to the development and experimentation to be scrapped since it was deemed unreliable and used too much energy. Yet, the technology was tempting to scientists for the simple fact that it would make a two-day trip at warp 9, over a distance of ten light-years, be instantaneous.

Pattern buffer malfunctions were the leading cause of transporter accidents. With this in mind, Allan’s miniature holographic model involved subspace transporter relay stations, large matter-antimatter reactors, and multiple pattern buffer redundancy stations, all in an effort to stabilize the “impractical subspace transporter technology.”

Allan could not understand the results he received. When he sent his holographic targ through the transporter network, there was a consistent delay of four seconds, but, with no measurable degradation. Allan initiated a holographic magneton scan on a hunch.

“Allan…” Sami-Jo called one last time. The slight shift in her tone inspired Allan to check the results of the magneton scan in the morning.

To the Badlands
Stardate: 58853; Sunday, November 8, 2381, Time: 08:16:48

By the time Hood made it to his station for the morning shift, Captain Thoms had the course set in already. Finally, they were heading to the Badlands, the "Pillars of Hercules" marking the edge of charted space.

Though it would take just over a week to get to Sector 04-70, Hood felt the excitement in the air. The Badlands was known for dangerous plasma storms and surprise gravitational anomalies, leading to many disappearing ships and a common avoidance by interstellar traffic of the entire region. This was the area where the USS Voyager was abducted by the Caretaker, an extra-galactic, sporocystian lifeform, possessing a high-level technology compared to Federation standards.

Thoms sat in the captain's seat with Doctor Elizabeth Lense to his left in the trio of central chairs. As the only two left of the original crew of the Lexington, Hood imagined that they had to be close. They talked and casually laughed as old friends.

Commander Commander Niko Baagh, the Caitian, was all too serious, if not totally annoyed by their relaxed demeanor. His ears would lay back on his head whenever the captain and doctor's conversation reached a certain decibel, with his left ear twitching at their voices. He would occasionally get up, walking around the bridge, rechecking displays and readings, asking for status reports of various systems. He had already passed by Hood's science station twice, offering advice on adjusting the deflector shield's harmonics and running particular system diagnostics.

"What is the current status of the bio-neural gel pack?" Baagh asked, as Hood expected. The gel packs were a form of computer technology developed in the early 2370s, an organic computer system composed of bio-neural circuitry. Storing more information and operating at faster than traditional isolinear circuitry, it allowed the computer to "think" using "fuzzy logic", as a living organism, they operated by making a "best guess" rather than working through all possible calculations. In emergencies, they gave an edge to strategic battles or emergencies that would crop up.

"I'd like you to recalibrate the organic neural systems and run a system-wide diagnostic," Baagh ordered, ear twitching, "I don't want us to miss any correlation between chaotic patterns. Also, check again for any possible bacteria and viruses."

Hood was going to remind the commander that a diagnostic was not expected for another week, but he decided to change his mind. Instead, all he managed was a slight smile followed by, "yes, sir."

"Another diagnostic?" Ensign D'Tan, a Romulan, asked from his terminal to Hood's right. "Is this going to be what the whole trip will be like?"

"We have our orders, Ensign." Hood responded. "Is anything he saying appearing to go against Starfleet's expectations?"

"I suppose not, sir."

"Then, follow him as you would Ambassador Spock," Hood answered back. Hardly anyone on the crew, besides the senior officers, knew of D'Tan's history. Being one of the few Romulans to ever be educated on Vulcan culture by his Romulan parents, D'Tan participated in underground efforts to bring the about the Vulcan-Romulan Reunification.

"Ensign, there may be a time to go against orders, but you need to make sure it's worth a court martial. And, it probably won't be over how often we run system diagnostics."

"Yes, sir."

"Anytime you have questions about an order I give, or another officer, feel free to ask me about it after you have followed it. The only time you should be considering disobeying orders is when those orders go against Starfleet Command, creates an imminent threat to the ship and crew, or if those orders endanger the lives of Federation citizens.  Otherwise, you've expected to follow your orders."

"Yes, sir."

Hood reminded himself to ask D'Tan, sometime over lunch, what it was like to be a friend of Ambassador Spock. Hood had been following Spock's adventures since joining the Academy and wanted to hear everything. For D'Tan to be a member of the underground Vulcan-Romulan Reunification at such a young age, Hood expected he had a strong sense of responsibility and justice, so much so, that he was already willing to risk his life for those ideals. This will either make him one of the best Starfleet officers, or one of the worst.

HC SVNT DRACONES
Hood walked the plank to the main control terminal of Stellar Cartography. He had been reviewing the Lexington's projected course to unknown space in his quarters, but only with a limited view, keeping his eye on Gracie. From Stellar Cartography, Hood had the ability to immerse himself in a holographic representation of charted space, and loved to do so. He felt as if he was standing on the edge of history.

At warp seven, it would take just over 11 days to cross a sector of twenty light-years. He followed the ship’s projected trajectory between the Badlands and the Tzenkethi Coalition, past the Rolor Nebula, to about a sector away from the Ferengi Alliance, sixty light-years from Earth, flying deeper into the northern circumpolar constellation of Draco.

How fitting to be heading into the Draco constellation. Early cartographers wrote HC SVNT DRACONES, “Here be Dragons,” on edges of maps to highlight dangerous or unexplored territories, a medieval practice of drawing dragons, sea-monsters and other mythological creatures on uncharted areas of maps.

“How fitting, indeed,” Hood unknowingly said aloud to himself.

Almost four sectors away from the Badlands, along the edge of explored space, on the farside of the Black Cluster, sat Deep Space 3. Every year, Vice Admiral Marcus Holt hosted a palio, an athletic contest, for neighboring species and cultures to compete against each other. During the Middle Ages on Earth, palios often involved horse racing, archery, sword-fighting, jousting, and other medieval sports.

I wonder if I’d be allowed to enter with a replicated longsword…

Hood recalled that the USS Hera, under Captain Silva La Forge, was lost after losing communication with Deep Space 3 in 2370. The starship had a crew of over three hundred, mostly Vulcans. Starfleet suspects the ship was lost due to their chief engineer experimenting with the trionic initiators. It was last detected around Marijne VII, three hundred light-years away.

The Lexington was expected to pass Gemulon, a trinary system consisting of a G-class star, a K-class star, and an M-class star. The fifth planet was intended to be the home of a Federation colony in the late 2350s, but the colonists never reached their destination; the ship was sabotaged by Alixus, a prolific philosopher and author who spent her life studying the Human condition.

The first sector adjacent to Gemulon, two sectors from Breen space, was completely unexplored by the Federation.

That is where Starfleet drew its dragons.

“Computer, mark HC SVNT DRACONES on the sector currently displayed,” Hood ordered. “Upload and display ‘Gracie’s Dragon’ over the sector,” a drawing Gracie made of a dragon for class.

Hood worked on exploring holographically exploring the edges of explored space, trying to guess what might be just around the edges. He measured the gravimetric distortions in spacetime, using the computer to make predictions on possible interstellar phenomena, which was not fully revealing themselves on sensors. His wondering about the possible spatial anomalies led him to worry about distortion increases near an unknown source that could pose a danger to the Lexington by potentially trapping them and exposing them to high levels of gravimetric shear.

There were countless stories of ships being trapped in severe gravimetric distortions while in proximity to massive or unknown objects, eventually tearing them apart by the stress. Though the Lexington has an extremely high tolerance compared to civilian craft, yet, Hood rather be safe than sorry, making as many theoretical predictions as possible...

Pirate Warning
Passing the Fahleena system, the Lexington received a hail from a passing Valerian transport ship, the Sherval Das.

“Incoming hail, captain,” E’kim announced.

“Put them through.”

The wedge-shaped ship on the main viewer blinking to that of a Valerian male, with four nostrils, two of which were located under the eyes with a thick bony ridge in the middle of his forehead accented in blue skin near the creases.

Though they have been trade partners with the United Federation of Plants for decades, Captain Thoms remembered that this ship had supplied the Cardassians with weapons-grade dolamide during the Occupation of Bajor, and it was suspected that they continued to do so after the end of the occupation. They were known traders throughout the Fahleena, Mariah, and Ultima Thule systems.

“This Captain Thoms of the Federation Starship Lexington,” Thoms began, standing up and approaching the viewscreen, “how may we help you?”

“Good to see Starfleet has recovered so well after the war, I’m impressed,” the Valerian transport captain, not giving his name. “There have been raiders in these sectors of space leading to the Badlands, which I’m assuming you’re going, based on your trajectory.”

“Just passing through, of course, captain.”

“Of course,” the Valerian responded. “Just leaving the Dorvan system?”

“Giving aide wherever we can, captain,” Thoms said, purposely evading his questions, not giving details on their heading or where they have been. Thoms suspected the Valerian was at least trying to get some information to sell, probably to the very pirates that he alluded to.

“Last I heard, your ship lost over eighty people to the Borg, is that true?”  The last question visibly stunned the crew, but Thoms kept his poker face, not showing any change in emotion. Commander Baagh let out a low growl that could be felt in the pit of the crew’s stomach.

“Ninety-six died, twenty-two wounded,” Thoms said.

Now it was Thoms turn to let the Valerians know that he knew exactly who he was talking to.

“We could have used your help out there. Some weapons-grade dolamide would have come in handy; the Cardassians seemed to appreciate its value.”

“I imagine so, captain…,” he responded with an edge to his voice.

“If there’s anything that you need, don’t hesitate to let us know,” Thoms said as he sat back down in his chair, not waiting for an answer. “Lexington out.”

Life in the Badlands?
“Entering the Badlands, Captain,” the helmsman called from the front of the bridge, as Hood exited the turbolift. Hood looked forward to charting the edges of the corridor through the Badlands; their long-range sensors were upgraded with higher resolution sensitivity for their deep-space exploration of uncharted space.

The mission was twofold: given the new upgraded long-range sensors a test drive while charting deeper into the Badlands.

“Bringing long-range sensors online, Captain,” Hood began, eager to see what they can dig up, “activating the transpectral sensor array.”  Hood’s science team worked with Engineering for the last week, tweeking the sensors, routing the sensor array through the ship’s deflector dish, maximizing the deflector’s amplitude.

“It’ll be a couple of hours, Captain,” Hood said. “We should have plenty of new information to keep Command happy.”

“You know, when the Bajorans were under the Cardassian Occupation, the Bajoran Resistance used the Badlands to hide from their patrols?” asked Ensign D’Tan, to any of his science team on the bridge.

“Due to the inference and the severe limitation of recent sensor ranges, the Bajorans used echolocation to navigate,” Junior-Grade Lieutenant Falora added.

“Out of all the ships that disappeared from the Badlands,” Hood began, “we now have it verified that most were abducted by the Caretaker, including the starship Voyager, which returned from the Delta Quadrant three years ago.”

“Check out those plasma storms,” D’Tan said about an hour into their sensor readings. Spatial disturbance tornados of energetic particles danced over their sensor viewer, documented their intensity and location.

“How’s the transpectral sensor array holding up?” asked Hood.

“The subprocessors’ temperatures are higher than expected,” Falora answered, “but, they are still functioning within normal parameters.”

“Keep an eye on the lateral sensors,” Hood warned, “I don’t like how fast the temperature is rising.”

“Yes, sir,” said Falora.

Temperatures spiked near 6,000 kelvins, while sensors picked up trace amounts of Magnesium and Calcium monohydride, Iron(I) and Chromium(I) hydride, including Hydroxyl radical. The only asteroids detected were either class T or class D.

“I’m picking up isolated amounts of water vapor, too” said a puzzled D’Tan.”

“It is only logical that water vapor would be detected considering a class M asteroid has been discovered in 2369.” Falora said, not able to hold back.

“D’Tan, head to the lab and star taking samples of the environment for us to examine,” Hood ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

After priming the main science lab’s computer and taking in the second set of samples, D’Tan noticed something. After scanning and double checking under the quantum microscope, D’Tan called Hood to the lab.

“You might want to see it for yourself, sir,” D’Tan said enigmatically.

Within the superheated plasma, Hood noticed D’Tan’s puzzle. There seemed to be numerous cell-like structures spontaneously generating, but not being replicated in any way. After further study, they seemed to use the plasma environment of the Badlands as a source of energy to move and then evaporating.

“What would happen if we exposed these cells to lower temperatures? What if they replicated?” asked D’Tan.

“Are you assuming they could be alive, Ensign?” Falora asked after backing up his findings with the lab’s scanners.

“We did find a couple of class T clusters out there,” D’Tan defended his idea, “they had numerous protostars, gas giants, and radiogenic sources. What if it’s a type of early dark matter lifeform?”

“It’s difficult to define what life is, or what we'll find out here,” Hood reminded his team as other officers checked on D’Tan’s findings. “I think it’s a bit hard to say definitively that we won’t find life in particular situations. This is why we joined Starfleet, to discover new life. We’ll keep an eye on these while we expose them to lower-temperature experiments. Keep it under a level ten containment field, just in case.”

Distress Call
“Captain, someone is hailing us,” reported Lieutenant E’Kim.
 * Stardate: 58929.9; December 6,  2381, Time: 09:55:26

“On screen,” responded Captain Thoms.

What appeared to be a garden of flowering plants appeared on the main viewer. The crew all exchanged glances at each other, eventually making their way to the chief science officer. Hood was going over his data.

“I’m not detecting any life-signs,” Hood began, “no humanoid life, anyway.

One of the flowering plants appeared to move its way closer to the screen. What appeared to be eye stalks began swirling around from the top of the plants as they all leaned in closer.

“I am Captain Wil Thoms of the Federation starship Lexington,” the captain began. “We received your distress call and are willing to assist. What can we do for you?”

“Captain, I’m reading a rapid change in the ship’s environment,” Hood said, “it may be affecting their ability to communicate with us.”

“They are suffocating, Captain,” Commander Baagh hissed as he realized what was happening.

“Transporter Room 4, lock onto any life-signs you’re detecting and beam them to sickbay,” Thoms ordered. “I’m on my way. Mr. Hood, you’re with me.”

Doctor Elizabeth Lense was scanning one of the four plant-like life-forms with her medical tricorder.

“We’re having a hard time understanding them, Captain,” Lense said, “at first I thought it was due to their lack of carbon dioxide. Now, I think it’s a problem the universal translator deciphering their language.

“The translation matrix probably has some catching up to do,” Hood said, “most life we’ve encountered is humanoid. The universal translator’s capabilities are based on humanoid brain and vocal patterns.”

One of the plant lifeforms appeared to sit up, trying to communicate.

“Besides the Phylosians,” Hood continued, “we don’t have much experience with sentient plant life. I’ll try remodifying the matrix after getting more communication data from them. We’ll probably have to come up with a whole new linguacode translation matrix.”

“Do it,” said Thoms, “keep me posted on any advances.”

As the captain turned to leave, Hood raised and unfolded his TR-590 Mark XI, activating his tricorder. With Lense using her medical tricorder to ascertain their health, Hood used his to gain insight into their language.

“I’m Lieutenant Hood, Chief Science Officer,” Hood began, “this is Dr. Lense, Chief Medical Officer. I’m attempting to understand your language, please continue trying to communicate with us to we can better understand you…”

On the bridge, Commander Baagh turned back to Lieutenant E’Kim, “What can you tell us about their ship? Size? Weapons? Defences? Ensign D’Tan, what is their trajectory and destination? I want to know where they think they were going.”

Commander Baagh began pacing the bridge directly behind the helm and ops. He paced like a tiger in a cage waiting for his meal. It tended to make the crew nervous at first, but, now, they have grown accustomed to his predictability and reliability.

“Commander, the ship seems to be primarily made of metal welded together and wood, no bigger than a Type 11 shuttlecraft,” the Ferengi said. “It seems to utilize six solar sails for space flight. I am not detecting any weapons or longterm life-support.”

“The large surface area relative to its mass seems to give it the capability to achieve warp, sir, over an extensive period of time, using tachyon emissions from Edasich,” the Romulan ensign added. “Edasich is larger and more massive than the Sun, sir, with 1.8 times the mass and nearly 12 times the radius. It exhausted its supply of hydrogen at its core and left the main sequence. Radiating over 55 times the luminosity, creating its orange…”

“Trajectory? Destination?” Baagh interrupted through gritted teeth, backed by a barely audible growl.

“Yes, sir,” said D’Tan. “Sir, their previous trajectory would have taken them to the Clarus system, from Hypatia, twenty-six lightyears away. Clarus is a trinary system with a K-class star, a G-class star, and an M-class star…”

“I am familiar with the Clarus system, Ensign,” Baagh interrupted, again. “Lieutenant E’Kim, cargo? Latium?”

“No cargo, sir,” said E’Kim, “and no room for it. Scans do not detect any Latium, or any other precious metals, on board. To be honest, sir, speaking on behalf of the Ferengi on Clarus, they’d just laugh at that ship as it entered a standard orbit.”

“Who would go to the Clarus system without cargo or finances?” Baagh asked aloud.

“Sir,” Falora, the junior-grade Vulcan lieutenant answered, “being a lightship without the ability to create a static warp field, it also would feel the effects of Special Relativity. The occupants would not reach the Clarus system for twenty-six years. After travelling for thirteen lightyears, they would need to adjust their sails to slow their ship, otherwise, they would pass the Clarus system.

“By my calculations,” Falora continued, unwilling to dial down her Vulcan abilities, looking straight at Commander Baagh, “since they were accelerating at a rate of Hypatia’s planetary gravitational acceleration, 49.58 meters per second, squared, they would have reached the Clarus system in 26.3805 years, while 1.8878 years would have passed for them on board their vessel. After thirteen lightyears, they would have reached a maximum speed of 99.9894 percent the speed of light.”

“Fascinating,” D’Tan said to himself, standing just to the right of Falora.

“I cannot imagine any business deals waiting 26 years to be finalized,” Baagh stated.

“If you don’t mind me saying, sir, we’ve been known to wait even longer, for the right price. A couple decades of waiting would guarantee a higher accumulation of interest, of course.”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Baagh snarled, restraining himself, “how likely would it be that the Ferengi, or anyone for that matter, would accept a deal like this?”

“Unlikely, sir, but, possible,” E’Kim clarified.

“What of our Breen escorts?” Captain Thoms asked, walking from the turbolift.

“They are holding position to our aft, sir,” E’Kim responded.

“I’m figuring we won’t hear much from them,” Thoms added, “They’ll fall prey to their reclusive nature, until threatened. E’Kim, keep your eyes on them, just in case.”

“Yes, sir.”

“‘Never turn your back on a Breen,’” Thoms said, smiling over his shoulder at D’Tan for using the Romulan saying, “they’re getting comfortable back there.”

“Wonderful, Ensign?” Falora asked D’Tan.

“Ma’am?”

“You uttered ‘wonderful’ indistinctly, in a low voice, lips partly closed, when I gave the analysis on the Relativistic effects of the lightship,” Falora clarified.

“Sorry, ma’am, I couldn’t help but be impressed by your…calculations,” D’Tan said with a slight smile.

“Your experience with Spock’s underground movement for Vulcan-Romulan Reunification is firmly established, Ensign. It is logical to assume that you have had experience with a Vulcan’s ability to calculate.”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” D’Tan said carefully, “we didn’t have much time for mathematical calculations. We spent most of our time in hiding and secretly trying to spread our teachings, or I should say, those of the Surak.”

“Perhaps, sometime, we can discuss together the teachings of Surak,” Falora offered, finally looking away from her terminal to D’Tan. “I have never heard his teachings from a Romulan perspective.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be looking forward to it.”

***

Finally, after all these years, Allan Hood gets to help with making First Contact with a new species. A new species that seemed to break all the rules.

From what Federation science has concluded, all humanoid life has a similar genetic pattern. Humanoids were classified as intelligent, bilaterally symmetrical, bipedal lifeforms, characterized by an upright posture, two arms, two legs, hands, feet, one thorax, a neck, and a head containing the brain, generally mammalian and originated on class M planets.

Once looked at as a joke only taken seriously by a handful of fringe Federation scientists, it is now common scientific fact that humanoid species share a common genetic code, spread by the galaxy’s first humanoid life, the Ancient Humanoids, from four billion years ago.

Not these creatures.

While trying to recalibrate the universal translator to understand the Lexington’s new guests, Hood could not help but compare and contrast the genetic similarities, to the Phylosians, with Dr. Lense.

Similar to the Phylosians, these sentient plant lifeforms were not humanoid. They were similar in height to humanoids, but, unlike the Phylosians, they were not eight meters tall. The Phylosians have a head-like structure, whereas these people do not.

Instead, they seem to have their brain-like organ located in different parts of the stem, though connected to a nervous system. Where the Phylosians walked on four legs, this new species carried itself on multiple vine-like tentacles surrounded by a complex root system for nourishment, which they all had covered.

Doctor Lense recorded that they have small, and finely-tuned micro-receptors which detect light and vibration. They use vine-like tentacles to grab objects and smaller vine-like tentacles for fine-motor skills. For energy, they absorb nutrients through their root system and rely on photosynthesis to form carbohydrates from carbon dioxide and a source of hydrogen in the chlorophyll-containing cells exposed to light.

“We…are…Flowering,” came a digital voice from a small hand-held universal translator, similar to the ones used in the early 2150s.

“It’s working!” erupted an ecstatic Doctor Lense

“Almost, Doctor,” replied Hood, “it’s having trouble now with detecting the multiple brain segments distributed through the stem, it’s causing multiple brain wave interference.”

“We are…the Magnoliophytians,” said the one that Hood was giving the most attention to, “we are…hungry.”

“Okay, Doctor, now it’s working.”