1-14-2
The Menk village was a sharp contrast to the advanced metropolis visible over the hills. Light pollution from the Valakian city spilled over those hills and dulled the stars of the night sky.
Robert shifted the weight of the scanner equipment in his arms. He had accepted a Starfleet uniform for this mission to fit in with the others although they had taken off the patch and the rank insignia. The color trim was beige like Captain Archer's. Robert wondered if that was an indication Archer at least accepted his claimed rank.
"So."
Robert turned his head. One of the women who came down with Phlox, a Crewwoman named Cutler, was looking at him curiously. "Yes?"
"You're the one they found floating in space near here," Cutler said. "How did that happen?"
Robert thought of an answer for a moment. "Well, you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"I'd like to know too." The other woman was Asian and looked closer to Robert's age, but not much older. Robert had heard her name was Hoshi Sato, the ship's communications officer. "Your EVA suit was transmitting a transponder signal into subspace. That took a lot of energy."
"I suppose it does."
"So, let me guess…" Cutler smirked. "Visitor from another time? Or some strange alternate timeline where Humanity has discovered more advanced technology?"
Robert grinned slightly and shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me, so you might as well say that."
They walked into the center of the Menk village. The locals all looked toward them with the kind of interest Robert would have suspected from small children. Phlox spoke with one about the need to get samples from the population. Or, rather, he conveyed that message through Sato who spoke with the Menk in their own language. His own auto-translator working through his multi-device informed him of the conversation along all lines of the translation work, making it seem redundant from his point of view.
Phlox quickly chose a structure to set up in. Robert felt very much the unnecessary pair of hands afterward; Cutler was doing the handling of the samples taken and Sato was there to translate. This left him standing nearby, taking up the unofficial position of guard, or so Robert assumed. It was, at least, a chance to get away from the Enterprise sickbay for a while and take counsel of his thoughts. And his fears. Are they going to come for me? he wondered. Can they come for me? And if they don't, what do I do? The fact Archer had dealt with time travelers before gave him some hope he might find a way home, but how many months, or years, might that take him? And all the while he would be risking altering history by anything he did.
"You okay?"
Robert turned and saw a Menk male, the one who had led them into the village, standing beside him. "Yeah," he answered.
The Menk looked at him in confusion. "You speak Menk?"
"In a way," Robert said cautiously.
The Menk nodded. "You sad."
"Worried, mostly. But yeah, I guess that fits."
The Menk - Robert tried to think of his name but couldn't remember hearing it - lowered his head. "So sad. Valakians sick. Don't get better."
Robert nodded at that. "My condolences."
"Valakians good to Menk. Feed us. Give work."
"But didn't you say earlier the Valakkians didn't let you have the best land?", Robert asked. "You don't get to farm your own food."
"Farming. Farming hard. Not very good at it."
Robert considered that and he knew from personal experience that farming could be difficult. "So you just prefer to live here."
"Menk's home here. Yes."
Robert smiled and nodded. "Can't argue with that sentiment. I just wish I could return home."
The Menk smiled. "Yes. You return home. Good."
If only I knew how…
The Command Staff assembled in the conference room with Julia in Robert's chair and Picard assuming the chair she normally took. The present staff from the lost Enterprise filed in at Picard's left.
On the main holoscreen set into the middle of the table, the image of Robert floated for everyone to look at. "He's in the past." Angel drew in a breath. "And he's alive… you're sure that's him?"
Jarod nodded. Caterina put a hand on her sister's shoulder for comfort. "It's him, Sis."
"How do we get him back?"
"That is the tricky part," Julia said. "We're looking at time travel."
"The easiest method might be re-creating the accident," Jarod explained. "I can modify a spread of solar torpedoes with larger naqia devices. We open a jump point to the same destination as before and use a torpedo on it, detonating at the exact same moment the shuttle did."
"That is a decent starting point," Data agreed. "But I must point out that it would be impossible to recreate every single factor that was present. The odds of this method working are extremely low. Additionally, given the shockwave put off by the last destabilized jump point, we cannot ascertain whether another one might produce one of even greater magnitude."
Jarod nodded. "That's true. But it's still our most direct approach."
"It also begs the question of how a ship would get back to our time," Picard said. "Whomever went back could end up stranded in the past with him."
"Also a good point," Leo said. "We have enough responsibilities in this era. I don't like the thought of going back in time and staying there."
"Well, we have to get Rob back somehow," Angel insisted.
At that point, there was a chuckle from beside Jarod. All eyes turned to the oldest man in the room. "So, we need tae go back in time by two centuries an' get back." Scotty folded his hands together. "Aye, I think I know just th' thing." He leaned in on the table. "We slingshot around a star."
Caterina's eyes widened. "Oh! Oh! That might work!"
Julia looked at him intently. "Explain, Scotty?"
"Just what I said, Commander. We approach a star at high warp an' break away just as we reach th' right point."
"And the high speed breakaway at warp, influenced by the intense gravity of a star so close to its surface… that can actually do it! We could achieve temporal transition!", Caterina proclaimed.
"I am familiar with the effect you describe," Data said. "However, a slingshot has not been attempted in many decades."
"Not since Mister Scott himself, and Captain Spock, used it to move a Klingon Bird-of-Prey back to the 20th Century," Picard noted. "The technique is considered too dangerous by Starfleet for repeat use. And I imagine the Department of Temporal Investigations would not be happy."
Jarod crossed his arms. "You're saying that time travel is such an issue in the Federation that you have time protection police?"
"They can be… most unpleasant," Worf rumbled.
"Scotty, can we actually do this?", Julia asked. "Slingshot around a star?"
"Aye. I have th' base calculations." Scotty tapped a finger on the table. "Th' main problem I have is that th' Aurora's pure mass may be tae much. I'm nae sure we can manage t' break away from a star at th' proper point."
"Do you know for sure?", Angel asked.
"A slingshot has never been attempted by a ship of the Aurora's mass." Data looked to Angel with curiosity. Her emotional state seemed the most agitated of those present. "This ship's ability to achieve stellar breakaway is unknown, and likely to be very difficult."
"I should also point out that we're currently hosting a diplomatic conference," Julia said. "I'm not sure we can just haul three foreign delegations into the 22nd Century with us."
"Then what are we supposed to do?", Angel demanded. "Take their ship?" She looked to the Starfleeters.
"I'm not certain Captain Korsmo will agree to risking his ship and crew," Picard pointed out.
Julia tapped her finger to her chin in thought. "Let me talk to Admiral Maran," she said. "Maybe I can get him to send us some help."
When the meeting ended Angel, who was off-duty now, went to the turbolift that would take her back to the other decks. Despite her expectations, she was not alone. Troi followed her into the lift. Angel gave her a discontented look before saying, "Deck 13."
"Lieutenant."
"Let me guess. You sense my emotions are all twisted up and you want to help me."
"That's my job," Troi pointed out.
"So let's skip the therapy session. Someone I love is lost. And we're not sure we can get him back."
"Fair enough."
"And I don't want to talk about it," Angel finished. "Sorry, I'm not into the psychoanalysis therapy thing."
That caused Troi to nod again. "I understand that. But there's more to therapy than just psychoanalysis. Sometimes it's just about talking to someone else. And getting your feelings out."
"The punching bags in the gym will work for that."
"It may feel that way, but that's not always…"
"It's how it works for me, Counselor," Angel shot back. "And if you want to talk about getting someone's feelings out, how well is that going for Commander Riker?"
The lift stopped and the door opened. Angel stepped out. "What about him?", Troi asked her.
"I noticed he's not as cocky as he was, most of us have," Angel said. "So why don't you worry about his feelings before poking around with mine." She stomped away after that.
Phlox was finishing up his work on the Menk samples. With their time on the planet almost over Robert stepped away from the others and looked up into the night sky of Valakis. For a time he remained alone.
Hoshi stepped up beside him. "You look thoughtful," she said. "Robert is your name?"
"It is," he replied.
For a moment they said nothing. Hoshi ended the silence. "It's incredible. Being under an alien sky."
"I've never gotten used to it," Robert admitted. "It always seems so unreal to me, no matter how many times I see it."
"You're an explorer?", she asked.
"Sometimes." Robert shrugged. "Much of my time with starships has involved helping people, though."
"How?"
Robert smiled thinly. "Rescuing them, usually. Going into slave labor camps or dissident prisons or something like that, guns blazing, saving people from torture and suffering and murder." He swallowed. "I mean, I haven't done that in a while now. But it was something I used to do."
It was clear Hoshi wasn't sure whether to accept what he was saying. "And this has to do with your mysterious origin. Okay."
"So, what do you think of all this?", Robert asked. "The Menk and the Valakians."
"I'm… I'm not sure," Hoshi admitted. "It seems like the Valakians are exploiting them, almost. They've kicked them off the best land. They're see them as servants more than people."
"Fair enough." Robert smiled thinly as the subject brought up old memories. "My grandfather told me that his grandmother was half-Kansa."
"Kansa?"
"The Kaw people," Robert clarified. "A Native American tribe, their name is the one that was derived to name the state of Kansas. My grandpa always liked the idea that he was descended from the Kansa. He felt it gave him a real tie to our family land."
Hoshi nodded. "Well, your accent gives that away a little. You're actually from Kansas though?"
Robert sighed and nodded. "I am. Grew up on the family farm."
"A farmboy." Hoshi nodded. "I might have to look you up then. I'm sure there's public files on Kansas farm families."
Robert thought briefly about that. It made some sense, he had to admit, that he and the others might exist or had existed in the histories of the other Earths. I mean, why wouldn't they? But he had never gotten around to actually looking into that. It seemed… off-putting, if anything. But it was an intriguing idea to wonder how his counterpart in this universe had spent the 21st Century. Did Mom, Dad, and Susanna live longer in this world? What was I, he, like?
"So, what about the Kansa?", Hoshi asked.
"I'm just reminded a little about the stories my grandfather told," Robert said. "About how white settlers moved in and forced all of the tribes off the best lands. Grandpa always said he thought it was one of the worst parts of our history. Maybe even as bad as African slavery. And our family emigrated to Kansas as free-staters, so that's saying something." He looked out at the Menk. "And I guess it does feel a bit like that. The Valakians keeping the Menk off the best soil. But there's a difference here."
"That is?", Hoshi asked.
"They actually care for the Menk," Robert said. "They're in the middle of a species-wide pandemic that's killing them off, millions every year, and they still make sure the Menk are being fed and cared for. There aren't any lynch mobs. No soldiers. No hatred. They're not being cheated and abused by desperate Valakians looking to get ahead. There aren't any swindlers cheating the Menk out of their food or what land they have. Nobody pushing alcohol on them to try and make them addicts or trick them while they're inebriated. We never treated the Kaw and the other native peoples this well. God knows how we'd treat another species."
Hoshi seemed to think about that. "So you think the Valakians are in the right?"
Robert shook his head slightly. "I don't know. Maybe they should let the Menk have better farmland. And teach them to farm for themselves. All I know is that, even if this isn't a perfect situation, it's far better than it would be with other races. Even us."
"You may have a point," Hoshi conceded.
"Ah, there you are."
They turned. Phlox stepped up to them. "I have everything I need," he said. He looked over Robert. "And you look quite well. You've seem to have recovered well, Mister Dale."
"Thanks to you, Doctor," Robert answered, nodding and grinning. "Back to Enterprise?"
"Yes, we need to get back." Phlox held up the case in his hand. "I have samples to process."
Troi was indulging in a late dinner in the Lookout. She found that while she missed Guinan's company, the elderly German gentleman running the Aurora crew lounge had his own charms.
Hargert was sitting across from her, holding up a holographic image of a smiling young pair of twins. "My grand niece and nephew," he said. "From the Bavarian Alps."
"You have quite the large family, sir," Troi observed. "But I can't help but notice you don't speak of any children of your own."
Hargert nodded. "I was a different man in my youth," he admitted. "Always running around. Never stopping to think about the future. Until the day the future came… and I was an old man too tired to run anymore." He smiled sadly. "I will not know the joy of a child of my own, that is true. But I take solace in being able to guide the young."
"That's why you're here?", Troi asked. "On the Aurora."
"Oh yes," Hargert said. "Yes indeed, Counselor. This is where my calling is. This is where I belong."
"It can be hard to find somewhere you belong. I'm happy for you."
Hargert nodded. And he reached forward and took her hand. "I understand you grieve for your lost ship. I am sorry for you."
Troi smiled gently and shook her head. "It's not the Enterprise that bothers me. It's Will. Commander Riker. I've tried…"
"Excuse me? Counselor Troi?"
Both of them looked up. Hargert's face curled into a slight smile. "Mister Jarod," he said. "Have you come to have dinner? The stew turned out quite well."
Jarod nodded and grinned at the lounge host. "I'll have to try that," he pledged. "But I'm here to see Counselor Troi."
"Very well." Hargert stood from his seat. "Let me go get you a bowl."
Jarod took a seat beside the chair Hargert vacated. "Hargert's cooking is amazing," he said to her. "Don't you think?"
Troi dipped her fork into the chocolate fudge cake slice in front of her. "Very," she agreed. She took a bite and chewed on it a moment before swallowing. "So, Mister Jarod, what can I do for you?"
"Nothing for me. Not exactly," Jarod answered. "But maybe for Commander Riker."
"What about Will?"
Jarod nodded at her. "Let's be honest, Counselor. I've been a psychiatrist myself at times. We both know Riker is going through a major crisis of confidence over losing the Enterprise."
Troi couldn't argue with that assessment. "It's something that will have to heal itself, I think," she lamented.
"Maybe, but we can try to give him a boost in the right direction," he pointed out. "I just need a way to get through to him."
"Will can be a complicated person sometimes," Troi replied. "I've tried many techniques to get through to him, but nothing I know of works either."
Jarod gave a nod to show he understood that. "Alright. Maybe the offer of help isn't what he needs." Jarod put his hands together. "I recently… well, I've had something gnawing at me for years lately, and I was recently able to get over it by a similar experience." Jarod thought briefly of the Dalek attack on the Facility and the Battle over Caprica. "Maybe if we did something to make face his fears?"
"I don't know if that is the approach that will work." Troi thought for a moment. Jarod looked into her dark eyes and thought he could feel those thoughts working through to a conclusion; she certainly knew Riker very closely. "Will can be very competitive sometimes. Especially when he was younger. I think that might be the best way to help him."
"Competition?" Jarod noticed Hargert coming with the stew and leaned forward. "Do you have any ideas for that?"
Upon their return to Enterprise, Robert met with a novel experience. The decontamination room was understandable, at least. There were no bio-scanners here, none of the technology that could help prevent harmful contaminants from alien worlds from getting onto the ship.
The whole "strip down and rub gel over your skin" part, that was a bit weird though. The thought struck him that it wasn't too different from showering in the locker rooms back when he was in school, even less exposed than that.
Of course, there were no girls in those locker room environments either.
After getting the samples back to the sickbay Hoshi and Cutler went off to other duties. Phlox gestured to the sickbay bed and Robet sat on it for an examination. There were still parts where his body had a dull ache to it. He wasn't surprised to hear Phlox say it was continued trauma from exposure. "Still, you are improving quite nicely. Tomorrow I'll ask the Captain to find you spare quarters."
"That would be nice," Robert noted.
Phlox nodded slightly and went to his work station to begin examining the samples. "I'm not sure when we can get you back to Earth. There are no Human ships this far from your homeworld."
"Honestly, Doctor, I'm hoping it won't be necessary."
"Ah." Phlox smiled widely at him. "You think your associates can find you then?"
"I'm… pretty sure of it, yeah," Robert replied. "If anyone can, they can."
"Well, I hope that you turn out to be correct on that. Of course, if that doesn't come about, perhaps there are other careers you might consider pursuing? You seemed to have mentioned farming to Ensign Sato."
"I grew up on a farm."
"Well, there are plenty of farms on some of the Human colonies being established," Phlox pointed out. "Although you seem the kind of man who would prefer a more active lifestyle. Perhaps one where you can do some good in the galaxy. I'm sure Captain Archer would agree with me that you might want to consider wearing that uniform full time."
"Join Starfleet you mean?"
"Yes. Obviously your claimed rank is unlikely to be accepted, but with the talent you would necessarily have in order to hold it, I'm sure you would regain it in Starfleet service. Perhaps you would end up in command of another ship like this one, in due time. Exploring the galaxy for your species."
Robert tried not to chuckle. The thought of him joining Starfleet. That was… well, amusing. Especially given his continued philosophical opposition to their Prime Directive.
That thought brought him to another. Do they even have that rule yet? There has to be a reason they started it. He smiled at the amusing thought that if he were stuck in this time period and did take up Phlox's suggestion, then ended up in command of a ship, he might very well be the reason the Prime Directive was written. That would be major irony.
Phlox regarded him with curiosity. "Did I say something amusing?"
Robert shook his head. "Not directly, Doctor, no. I just had some personal thoughts about the situation, that's all."
"Ah. Right. Well, if you'll excuse me, the Menk samples must be examined."
"Of course." Robert laid back on the bed and closed his eyes. He drew in a weary breath that was mostly, but not all, a sigh. The idea of being stranded here… of being away from the people he loved, the people he worked with… of leaving them with the war that had to be fought when he did so much to help instigate it. It seemed so… wrong.
Having to start again. To, maybe, start normally, too. Working my way up ranks until I was a Captain in this time period. When I might do some good.
A pang of guilt filled his heart. I'll never see Angel or Julie again. Or Zack, Tom, Leo, Cat, Lucy… He shook his head. No. I'm going to find a way back to the future, someway and somehow.
Around that time he dozed off.
Angel had tried to sleep again. It hadn't worked. And so she did the next best thing.
Her fists were growing numb. Her arms were burning with fatigue from the strain. But she continued to punch the bag hanging in front of her like it was the sole embodiment of everything making her feel screwed up.
She wanted to trust in Cat and Jarod to find a solution. Especially with that super-smart android helping them with the tech and science stuff. But everything reminded her that Rob was gone. That he might not be coming back. Which reminded her, in turn, of why she'd been the one to restart their relationship in the first place.
There was a part of her mad at Rob. Like it was his fault and not the fault of that damned Changeling or whatever was happening in the past. You always have to be the damn hero, Rob, she thought. Always the damn white knight riding off to save the day. Normally she liked that about him. But now… now it seemed to be a warning of how quickly he could be taken away from her. Permanently.
Angel yelled in frustration and stepped back to deliver a powerful roundhouse kick to the bag. This actually knocked it off of the hook above from the clasp not being fastened right. The punching bag hit the floor with a dull thump. Angel frowned and looked on to see a young Dorei male standing with his own punching bag, now swinging slightly from the remaining momentum from the last hit. Angel scoffed at it and bent over to pick it up.
"I do not think you are training very effectively at this point."
The deep voice caused Angel to look over her shoulder. She smirked and said, "Who said anything about training?"
The Klingon Worf was standing nearby. He was clad in what looked like a cross between a proper martial arts gi and a bathrobe. It was quite a different style from Angel's preferred sports bra and gym shorts combination, the current ones midnight black in color and marked with Nike symbols. She had a standard issue set in her branch colors, but the black had seemed a better fit for her mood. "I had assumed you had a reason for working so intently. But your form was clearly lacking."
Angel hooked the bag back up and looked at Worf with a bit less of a smirk this time. "It's almost midnight ship time. Shouldn't you be in bed like a good little Starfleet boy scout?"
"Klingons do not require as much sleep as Humans," Worf retorted.
"Right." Angel walked over to another bag. "Well, they do the t'ai chi on the other end of the gym. Chief Ghayati teaches yoga and t'ai chi every day. Or maybe you Klingons have something like it?"
"Mok'bara," Worf answered.
"Ah. Well, it's all the same 'wave your arms around' stuff to me."
"It allows a warrior to focus mind and body," Worf continued. "The movements help prepare us for battle."
"Good for you. But that's not my thing." Angel gave the bag a playful whack with her fist. "I'm more physical with combat."
"And yet you are distracted," Worf pointed out. "In battle, that would be a failing. A warrior's mind must be unclouded."
"Someone very close to me is stuck two hundred years in the past. Being clouded is something I'll have to deal with."
"That would be a mistake," Worf pointed out.
Something about his attitude rankled. Angel frowned. "Care to prove it?"
Worf smiled a toothy smile. "Gladly."
Angel felt her blood rush. She was going to wipe that smile off his smug face. It was something constructive to do, at least, while she waited for the brainiacs to find a way to rescue Robert. "Come on, then." She motioned for him to follow. They walked to the vacant boxing ring. Angel pulled out a plastic tooth guard and handed it to Worf. He eyed it, smirked, and handed it back. "Your dentist visit," she sighed, pulling out one for herself. She climbed into the ring and worked through the ropes.
Worf followed her up and walked to the opposite corner. "Are you prepared?", he asked.
Angel put the guard in her mouth and nodded. She assumed an offensive martial arts stance and observed Worf's defensive arm placement for a moment while advancing. He wasn't attacking yet; fine by her. He had mass on her, she needed to be the one moving going for weak spots. His stance was solid enough, no advantage there. I guess I'll make my own, she thought.
First she threw a few punches and kicks to test Worf's speed. Not too bad for his size. But not too good either. She evaded his counter-attacks and gave ground around the ring.
When Angel thought everything was in place, she went on the attack again. A number of punches and kicks, deflected, but all to set up the counter-attack she knew had to come. When it came, she grabbed for his arm.
She was quite surprised when it was her right arm that ended up grabbed instead. Angel let out a short cry of surprise at that. Worf used his leverage on her to kick her in the side of the ribs - nowhere vital, just enough force to not break anything, but painful as hell - and then throw her into the opposite corner. The impact knocked the breath out of Angel. She looked up at Worf as she recovered it. "You are distracted," he pointed out.
Angel snarled back and got back to her feet. She went on the attack again. This time Worf didn't just block blows, he weaved and ducked as necessary to avoid Angel's angry punches and kicks. One kick grazed him along the cheek. But that wasn't enough to keep his hands from coming up and gripping her by the lower leg. He pulled her off-balance and tossed her bodily into the corner again. This time he said nothing while Angel picked herself up from the ground. She put a hand to where she'd taken the blow to the ribs and gave Worf an angry look.
That angry look became another attack. Worf had to work for it this time; Angel wasn't just fast, but quite strong for her size, and the punch she managed to land on Worf's jaw drew blood from his lip. A solid kick to his shoulder was enough to dislodge his left arm from an attempt to grapple with her again. He had provoked her into a frenzy of attacks that still showed some calculation to them.
For a minute it looked like Angel's burst of angry effort might put Worf down in turn. But her attack slowed slightly, slightly enough that Worf was able to land a flat-palm blow to Angel's bruised right rib. It took all of Worf's focus and control to restrain the blow from doing more than hitting a weak spot; just a little more force and he would have broken the rib completely.
The strike broke Angel's attack down. She let out a cry of pain and fell back. Worf followed her as she went to the mat and pinned her upper torso in place with his forearm. "You are fast and strong, but you are also not judging the battle correctly. You are letting your anger dictate the course of battle. That is why I have defeated you. Do you yield?"
Angel punched him in the face. Worf felt an urge to return the blow and held it. He wasn't here to punch her into submission. Instead he continued the pressure and acted as if the punch hadn't done anything. "Do you yield?!"
There were a few more moments of struggling and then a harsh released breath of exasperation. She nodded and Worf got off of her.
The fight wasn't over quite yet though, it had merely shifted away from violence. Angel glared at him and demanded, "What do you want from me?!" She sat up. "You want me to admit that I'm Goddamned terrified? Because I am! Because… there is nothing I can do for Robert, nothing I can do to help save him, and…" She stopped and swallowed. Tears were forming in her eyes. "...I'm not a scientist. I can't sit there and whip up fancy solutions to problems. I'm good at getting dirty and physical. I know how to get hurt and hurt right back, and I know how to shoot things with a ship's weapons. That's what I am, that's what I do, and I'm damned proud of how well I can do it so long as I can protect the people I care about! But I can't shoot or punch an out-of-control jump point! I can't crack my knuckles and smirk to intimidate the Goddamn space-time continuum! There is nothing I can do for him and…" Angel's tirade was broken up as she sniffled. "...and I hate it. I'm helpless and I can't do anything about it."
Nothing was said for a moment. Worf looked at her intently and thought of his own predicament. The Enterprise, his Enterprise, gone. His efforts to fight off the Duras Sisters had been insufficient. The crew would eventually be broken up, a crew he had been honored to serve beside for eight years. "I know what it is like," he said. "I have faced the same problem before. And I have no answers for you." Aware of how uncomfortable the admission had been, he nodded. "Thank you."
"For?", Angel asked.
"You have shown trust in me by admitting to the truth. It took great courage. I am honored by your gesture."
Angel considered him for a moment. "Thank you," she replied. "You gave me an excuse to get it out. I'm not going to feel any better, but maybe I'll focus more."
"You are most welcome."
"And…" Angel checked her discarded multidevice. "...I am really late to get some sleep. So are you, right?"
"Indeed. I will see you again later."
"1800?", she asked.
He gave her a curious look.
"1800. I'll be here training." She smiled thinly. "Perhaps you can show me how you do that 'wave your arms' stuff with Klingons."
A low rumble of a chuckle came from Worf. "Of course."
Much to his relief, Robert's dreams were more pleasant this time. He didn't dream of anything that might be the future. He didn't even dream of his life on the Aurora.
Instead it was the farm. His grandmother's cooking. His grandfather laughing jovially at a story from the war while his family looked on. Beth with a young woman her age, happier than she'd ever been on the farm. His parents, sitting beside each other and stealing small kisses when no one looked, while Susanna ran around in the nearby field with friends.
And Julia was there, and Zack, and Tom, and all of his other friends, laughing and joking. Angel's hand was holding his. The scent of her hair made him feel warm and alive.
Despite everything, despite the wonders of space and the thrill of being at the center of a new era… this vista was something Robert realized he would have picked over everything else.
The dream was still vivid in his mind when he woke up. But it came with a sharp edge now. That isn't how things had happened. His grandmother had died when he was ten years old. HIs grandfather lasted a few years after that and died after having such a fierce argument with Beth over her personal life that she left for Portland and never came back.
And his parents… his sister… they were gone now.
All this time. All of the brilliant things in his new life. And yet that loss still ached. A piece of his heart that was ripped out and never filled, just made numb by the passage of time.
Robert turned and tried to go back to sleep. But he couldn't. Whether he'd rested too much or was just too upset by those thoughts, he simply wouldn't fall asleep.
There was noise from across the sickbay. Robert looked up and cracked an eye open. Phlox was slipping out. And he looked… agitated?
After he was gone Robert got curious. He couldn't sleep anymore anyway and his curiosity became insatiable. He got off the bed and walked into the other part of the sickbay. Test results were visible on some screens. Helixes of DNA twiirling about on others, highlighting chromosomes or what have you. Robert didn't really understand it.
But he also noticed something new. A small tube with a liquid inside. Robert looked intently at it. Why would Phlox leave it behind? Robert held up his arm toward it and activated the scanner on his multidevice. The holographic screen popped up over his forearm and showed results. The first results were in technical language, so he wasn't sure what it meant. He activated the feature to have the device programming simplify its results, or as Tom Barnes had always called it, "Scan-Results-For-Dummies Mode".
The result popped up: Genetic resequencing formula.
Robert read that. Resequencing? Why would Phlox make…
The Valakian plague. It's genetic. Then this must be…
Robert took the scan and saved it in his device, just to ensure there was a backup of what went into what could be a cure.. But other than that, he wasn't sure what else he should do. Obviously Phlox was off talking to Archer, informing him of the good news. This was Archer's business, not his.
As he returned to the bed, Robert knew that wasn't it for him. He was too awake. Too… wound up, perhaps. He needed to work things off. Walking around the ship seemed the best way to do that.
The Enterprise - this Enterprise anyway - was in its own way more familiar than the one from two hundred years in the future. This one felt like a World War II vessel instead of a starship, at least the starships Robert was used to. He only saw a couple of crew on his way forward through the ship. A little rumble in his belly reminded him he hadn't eaten in awhile.
He ultimately came upon one of the junior officers, with a red-trim blue uniform. An engineer, given the belt. "Excuse me," Robert said. "Can you direct me to the mess?"
"Sure." He indicated a direction and Robert gave a thank you before continuing on.
It didn't take long for him to arrive at his destination. "...is a fundamental scientific principle," he heard a voice say from within the door to the mess. It slid open for him and Robert stepped in to find he wasn't alone. Phlox was standing nearby and looking toward Archer, by one of the tables. They both looked toward him. "Oh. I'm sorry, I was getting something to eat." Robert nodded. "I'm guessing you're sharing the good news?"
He was struck by the uncomfortable look that came to the alien's face. "Good news?", Archer asked. He looked rather tense as well.
Robert had the bad feeling nothing was as he had anticipated. Nevertheless he saw no reason not to be honest. "I… well, I assumed Dr. Phlox was telling you about what I assumed was the cure."
Archer evinced surprise. Phlox frowned at him. "I wasn't aware you were an expert in genetic matters, Captain."
"I'm not.." Robert tapped his multidevice. "But the scanner in my multidevice identified whatever you made as a genetic re-sequencing formula."
"Is this true?", Archer asked. "Did you make a cure already?"
Phlox shifted uncomfortably, which left Robert even more confused. Why would he be so upset about this? "Yes," he finally admitted. "I did."
"Were you going to tell me?"
"I admit I had some doubts. Clearly you are having difficulty understanding my position on the matter."
Robert held a hand up. He could feel the tension in the room and he wanted answers. "I'm afraid I'm lost here. This is good. This is the cure you're looking for. So what's wrong here? Why would you hide it?"
Archer looked to Phlox but said nothing. It was clear that his sentiment was that Phlox should explain himself.
Phlox sighed. "Human compassion is a remarkable thing. It's one of your species' positive traits. But it can be short-sighted at times, and I believe it's being short-sighted here."
"I don't follow, Doctor," Robert said. "What's wrong? I mean, you made the cure, simple."
"No, Mister Dale. Not so simple. I did make a cure. But I am of the opinion that it shouldn't be given to the Valakians."
Robert shifted the weight of the scanner equipment in his arms. He had accepted a Starfleet uniform for this mission to fit in with the others although they had taken off the patch and the rank insignia. The color trim was beige like Captain Archer's. Robert wondered if that was an indication Archer at least accepted his claimed rank.
"So."
Robert turned his head. One of the women who came down with Phlox, a Crewwoman named Cutler, was looking at him curiously. "Yes?"
"You're the one they found floating in space near here," Cutler said. "How did that happen?"
Robert thought of an answer for a moment. "Well, you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"I'd like to know too." The other woman was Asian and looked closer to Robert's age, but not much older. Robert had heard her name was Hoshi Sato, the ship's communications officer. "Your EVA suit was transmitting a transponder signal into subspace. That took a lot of energy."
"I suppose it does."
"So, let me guess…" Cutler smirked. "Visitor from another time? Or some strange alternate timeline where Humanity has discovered more advanced technology?"
Robert grinned slightly and shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me, so you might as well say that."
They walked into the center of the Menk village. The locals all looked toward them with the kind of interest Robert would have suspected from small children. Phlox spoke with one about the need to get samples from the population. Or, rather, he conveyed that message through Sato who spoke with the Menk in their own language. His own auto-translator working through his multi-device informed him of the conversation along all lines of the translation work, making it seem redundant from his point of view.
Phlox quickly chose a structure to set up in. Robert felt very much the unnecessary pair of hands afterward; Cutler was doing the handling of the samples taken and Sato was there to translate. This left him standing nearby, taking up the unofficial position of guard, or so Robert assumed. It was, at least, a chance to get away from the Enterprise sickbay for a while and take counsel of his thoughts. And his fears. Are they going to come for me? he wondered. Can they come for me? And if they don't, what do I do? The fact Archer had dealt with time travelers before gave him some hope he might find a way home, but how many months, or years, might that take him? And all the while he would be risking altering history by anything he did.
"You okay?"
Robert turned and saw a Menk male, the one who had led them into the village, standing beside him. "Yeah," he answered.
The Menk looked at him in confusion. "You speak Menk?"
"In a way," Robert said cautiously.
The Menk nodded. "You sad."
"Worried, mostly. But yeah, I guess that fits."
The Menk - Robert tried to think of his name but couldn't remember hearing it - lowered his head. "So sad. Valakians sick. Don't get better."
Robert nodded at that. "My condolences."
"Valakians good to Menk. Feed us. Give work."
"But didn't you say earlier the Valakkians didn't let you have the best land?", Robert asked. "You don't get to farm your own food."
"Farming. Farming hard. Not very good at it."
Robert considered that and he knew from personal experience that farming could be difficult. "So you just prefer to live here."
"Menk's home here. Yes."
Robert smiled and nodded. "Can't argue with that sentiment. I just wish I could return home."
The Menk smiled. "Yes. You return home. Good."
If only I knew how…
The Command Staff assembled in the conference room with Julia in Robert's chair and Picard assuming the chair she normally took. The present staff from the lost Enterprise filed in at Picard's left.
On the main holoscreen set into the middle of the table, the image of Robert floated for everyone to look at. "He's in the past." Angel drew in a breath. "And he's alive… you're sure that's him?"
Jarod nodded. Caterina put a hand on her sister's shoulder for comfort. "It's him, Sis."
"How do we get him back?"
"That is the tricky part," Julia said. "We're looking at time travel."
"The easiest method might be re-creating the accident," Jarod explained. "I can modify a spread of solar torpedoes with larger naqia devices. We open a jump point to the same destination as before and use a torpedo on it, detonating at the exact same moment the shuttle did."
"That is a decent starting point," Data agreed. "But I must point out that it would be impossible to recreate every single factor that was present. The odds of this method working are extremely low. Additionally, given the shockwave put off by the last destabilized jump point, we cannot ascertain whether another one might produce one of even greater magnitude."
Jarod nodded. "That's true. But it's still our most direct approach."
"It also begs the question of how a ship would get back to our time," Picard said. "Whomever went back could end up stranded in the past with him."
"Also a good point," Leo said. "We have enough responsibilities in this era. I don't like the thought of going back in time and staying there."
"Well, we have to get Rob back somehow," Angel insisted.
At that point, there was a chuckle from beside Jarod. All eyes turned to the oldest man in the room. "So, we need tae go back in time by two centuries an' get back." Scotty folded his hands together. "Aye, I think I know just th' thing." He leaned in on the table. "We slingshot around a star."
Caterina's eyes widened. "Oh! Oh! That might work!"
Julia looked at him intently. "Explain, Scotty?"
"Just what I said, Commander. We approach a star at high warp an' break away just as we reach th' right point."
"And the high speed breakaway at warp, influenced by the intense gravity of a star so close to its surface… that can actually do it! We could achieve temporal transition!", Caterina proclaimed.
"I am familiar with the effect you describe," Data said. "However, a slingshot has not been attempted in many decades."
"Not since Mister Scott himself, and Captain Spock, used it to move a Klingon Bird-of-Prey back to the 20th Century," Picard noted. "The technique is considered too dangerous by Starfleet for repeat use. And I imagine the Department of Temporal Investigations would not be happy."
Jarod crossed his arms. "You're saying that time travel is such an issue in the Federation that you have time protection police?"
"They can be… most unpleasant," Worf rumbled.
"Scotty, can we actually do this?", Julia asked. "Slingshot around a star?"
"Aye. I have th' base calculations." Scotty tapped a finger on the table. "Th' main problem I have is that th' Aurora's pure mass may be tae much. I'm nae sure we can manage t' break away from a star at th' proper point."
"Do you know for sure?", Angel asked.
"A slingshot has never been attempted by a ship of the Aurora's mass." Data looked to Angel with curiosity. Her emotional state seemed the most agitated of those present. "This ship's ability to achieve stellar breakaway is unknown, and likely to be very difficult."
"I should also point out that we're currently hosting a diplomatic conference," Julia said. "I'm not sure we can just haul three foreign delegations into the 22nd Century with us."
"Then what are we supposed to do?", Angel demanded. "Take their ship?" She looked to the Starfleeters.
"I'm not certain Captain Korsmo will agree to risking his ship and crew," Picard pointed out.
Julia tapped her finger to her chin in thought. "Let me talk to Admiral Maran," she said. "Maybe I can get him to send us some help."
When the meeting ended Angel, who was off-duty now, went to the turbolift that would take her back to the other decks. Despite her expectations, she was not alone. Troi followed her into the lift. Angel gave her a discontented look before saying, "Deck 13."
"Lieutenant."
"Let me guess. You sense my emotions are all twisted up and you want to help me."
"That's my job," Troi pointed out.
"So let's skip the therapy session. Someone I love is lost. And we're not sure we can get him back."
"Fair enough."
"And I don't want to talk about it," Angel finished. "Sorry, I'm not into the psychoanalysis therapy thing."
That caused Troi to nod again. "I understand that. But there's more to therapy than just psychoanalysis. Sometimes it's just about talking to someone else. And getting your feelings out."
"The punching bags in the gym will work for that."
"It may feel that way, but that's not always…"
"It's how it works for me, Counselor," Angel shot back. "And if you want to talk about getting someone's feelings out, how well is that going for Commander Riker?"
The lift stopped and the door opened. Angel stepped out. "What about him?", Troi asked her.
"I noticed he's not as cocky as he was, most of us have," Angel said. "So why don't you worry about his feelings before poking around with mine." She stomped away after that.
Phlox was finishing up his work on the Menk samples. With their time on the planet almost over Robert stepped away from the others and looked up into the night sky of Valakis. For a time he remained alone.
Hoshi stepped up beside him. "You look thoughtful," she said. "Robert is your name?"
"It is," he replied.
For a moment they said nothing. Hoshi ended the silence. "It's incredible. Being under an alien sky."
"I've never gotten used to it," Robert admitted. "It always seems so unreal to me, no matter how many times I see it."
"You're an explorer?", she asked.
"Sometimes." Robert shrugged. "Much of my time with starships has involved helping people, though."
"How?"
Robert smiled thinly. "Rescuing them, usually. Going into slave labor camps or dissident prisons or something like that, guns blazing, saving people from torture and suffering and murder." He swallowed. "I mean, I haven't done that in a while now. But it was something I used to do."
It was clear Hoshi wasn't sure whether to accept what he was saying. "And this has to do with your mysterious origin. Okay."
"So, what do you think of all this?", Robert asked. "The Menk and the Valakians."
"I'm… I'm not sure," Hoshi admitted. "It seems like the Valakians are exploiting them, almost. They've kicked them off the best land. They're see them as servants more than people."
"Fair enough." Robert smiled thinly as the subject brought up old memories. "My grandfather told me that his grandmother was half-Kansa."
"Kansa?"
"The Kaw people," Robert clarified. "A Native American tribe, their name is the one that was derived to name the state of Kansas. My grandpa always liked the idea that he was descended from the Kansa. He felt it gave him a real tie to our family land."
Hoshi nodded. "Well, your accent gives that away a little. You're actually from Kansas though?"
Robert sighed and nodded. "I am. Grew up on the family farm."
"A farmboy." Hoshi nodded. "I might have to look you up then. I'm sure there's public files on Kansas farm families."
Robert thought briefly about that. It made some sense, he had to admit, that he and the others might exist or had existed in the histories of the other Earths. I mean, why wouldn't they? But he had never gotten around to actually looking into that. It seemed… off-putting, if anything. But it was an intriguing idea to wonder how his counterpart in this universe had spent the 21st Century. Did Mom, Dad, and Susanna live longer in this world? What was I, he, like?
"So, what about the Kansa?", Hoshi asked.
"I'm just reminded a little about the stories my grandfather told," Robert said. "About how white settlers moved in and forced all of the tribes off the best lands. Grandpa always said he thought it was one of the worst parts of our history. Maybe even as bad as African slavery. And our family emigrated to Kansas as free-staters, so that's saying something." He looked out at the Menk. "And I guess it does feel a bit like that. The Valakians keeping the Menk off the best soil. But there's a difference here."
"That is?", Hoshi asked.
"They actually care for the Menk," Robert said. "They're in the middle of a species-wide pandemic that's killing them off, millions every year, and they still make sure the Menk are being fed and cared for. There aren't any lynch mobs. No soldiers. No hatred. They're not being cheated and abused by desperate Valakians looking to get ahead. There aren't any swindlers cheating the Menk out of their food or what land they have. Nobody pushing alcohol on them to try and make them addicts or trick them while they're inebriated. We never treated the Kaw and the other native peoples this well. God knows how we'd treat another species."
Hoshi seemed to think about that. "So you think the Valakians are in the right?"
Robert shook his head slightly. "I don't know. Maybe they should let the Menk have better farmland. And teach them to farm for themselves. All I know is that, even if this isn't a perfect situation, it's far better than it would be with other races. Even us."
"You may have a point," Hoshi conceded.
"Ah, there you are."
They turned. Phlox stepped up to them. "I have everything I need," he said. He looked over Robert. "And you look quite well. You've seem to have recovered well, Mister Dale."
"Thanks to you, Doctor," Robert answered, nodding and grinning. "Back to Enterprise?"
"Yes, we need to get back." Phlox held up the case in his hand. "I have samples to process."
Troi was indulging in a late dinner in the Lookout. She found that while she missed Guinan's company, the elderly German gentleman running the Aurora crew lounge had his own charms.
Hargert was sitting across from her, holding up a holographic image of a smiling young pair of twins. "My grand niece and nephew," he said. "From the Bavarian Alps."
"You have quite the large family, sir," Troi observed. "But I can't help but notice you don't speak of any children of your own."
Hargert nodded. "I was a different man in my youth," he admitted. "Always running around. Never stopping to think about the future. Until the day the future came… and I was an old man too tired to run anymore." He smiled sadly. "I will not know the joy of a child of my own, that is true. But I take solace in being able to guide the young."
"That's why you're here?", Troi asked. "On the Aurora."
"Oh yes," Hargert said. "Yes indeed, Counselor. This is where my calling is. This is where I belong."
"It can be hard to find somewhere you belong. I'm happy for you."
Hargert nodded. And he reached forward and took her hand. "I understand you grieve for your lost ship. I am sorry for you."
Troi smiled gently and shook her head. "It's not the Enterprise that bothers me. It's Will. Commander Riker. I've tried…"
"Excuse me? Counselor Troi?"
Both of them looked up. Hargert's face curled into a slight smile. "Mister Jarod," he said. "Have you come to have dinner? The stew turned out quite well."
Jarod nodded and grinned at the lounge host. "I'll have to try that," he pledged. "But I'm here to see Counselor Troi."
"Very well." Hargert stood from his seat. "Let me go get you a bowl."
Jarod took a seat beside the chair Hargert vacated. "Hargert's cooking is amazing," he said to her. "Don't you think?"
Troi dipped her fork into the chocolate fudge cake slice in front of her. "Very," she agreed. She took a bite and chewed on it a moment before swallowing. "So, Mister Jarod, what can I do for you?"
"Nothing for me. Not exactly," Jarod answered. "But maybe for Commander Riker."
"What about Will?"
Jarod nodded at her. "Let's be honest, Counselor. I've been a psychiatrist myself at times. We both know Riker is going through a major crisis of confidence over losing the Enterprise."
Troi couldn't argue with that assessment. "It's something that will have to heal itself, I think," she lamented.
"Maybe, but we can try to give him a boost in the right direction," he pointed out. "I just need a way to get through to him."
"Will can be a complicated person sometimes," Troi replied. "I've tried many techniques to get through to him, but nothing I know of works either."
Jarod gave a nod to show he understood that. "Alright. Maybe the offer of help isn't what he needs." Jarod put his hands together. "I recently… well, I've had something gnawing at me for years lately, and I was recently able to get over it by a similar experience." Jarod thought briefly of the Dalek attack on the Facility and the Battle over Caprica. "Maybe if we did something to make face his fears?"
"I don't know if that is the approach that will work." Troi thought for a moment. Jarod looked into her dark eyes and thought he could feel those thoughts working through to a conclusion; she certainly knew Riker very closely. "Will can be very competitive sometimes. Especially when he was younger. I think that might be the best way to help him."
"Competition?" Jarod noticed Hargert coming with the stew and leaned forward. "Do you have any ideas for that?"
Upon their return to Enterprise, Robert met with a novel experience. The decontamination room was understandable, at least. There were no bio-scanners here, none of the technology that could help prevent harmful contaminants from alien worlds from getting onto the ship.
The whole "strip down and rub gel over your skin" part, that was a bit weird though. The thought struck him that it wasn't too different from showering in the locker rooms back when he was in school, even less exposed than that.
Of course, there were no girls in those locker room environments either.
After getting the samples back to the sickbay Hoshi and Cutler went off to other duties. Phlox gestured to the sickbay bed and Robet sat on it for an examination. There were still parts where his body had a dull ache to it. He wasn't surprised to hear Phlox say it was continued trauma from exposure. "Still, you are improving quite nicely. Tomorrow I'll ask the Captain to find you spare quarters."
"That would be nice," Robert noted.
Phlox nodded slightly and went to his work station to begin examining the samples. "I'm not sure when we can get you back to Earth. There are no Human ships this far from your homeworld."
"Honestly, Doctor, I'm hoping it won't be necessary."
"Ah." Phlox smiled widely at him. "You think your associates can find you then?"
"I'm… pretty sure of it, yeah," Robert replied. "If anyone can, they can."
"Well, I hope that you turn out to be correct on that. Of course, if that doesn't come about, perhaps there are other careers you might consider pursuing? You seemed to have mentioned farming to Ensign Sato."
"I grew up on a farm."
"Well, there are plenty of farms on some of the Human colonies being established," Phlox pointed out. "Although you seem the kind of man who would prefer a more active lifestyle. Perhaps one where you can do some good in the galaxy. I'm sure Captain Archer would agree with me that you might want to consider wearing that uniform full time."
"Join Starfleet you mean?"
"Yes. Obviously your claimed rank is unlikely to be accepted, but with the talent you would necessarily have in order to hold it, I'm sure you would regain it in Starfleet service. Perhaps you would end up in command of another ship like this one, in due time. Exploring the galaxy for your species."
Robert tried not to chuckle. The thought of him joining Starfleet. That was… well, amusing. Especially given his continued philosophical opposition to their Prime Directive.
That thought brought him to another. Do they even have that rule yet? There has to be a reason they started it. He smiled at the amusing thought that if he were stuck in this time period and did take up Phlox's suggestion, then ended up in command of a ship, he might very well be the reason the Prime Directive was written. That would be major irony.
Phlox regarded him with curiosity. "Did I say something amusing?"
Robert shook his head. "Not directly, Doctor, no. I just had some personal thoughts about the situation, that's all."
"Ah. Right. Well, if you'll excuse me, the Menk samples must be examined."
"Of course." Robert laid back on the bed and closed his eyes. He drew in a weary breath that was mostly, but not all, a sigh. The idea of being stranded here… of being away from the people he loved, the people he worked with… of leaving them with the war that had to be fought when he did so much to help instigate it. It seemed so… wrong.
Having to start again. To, maybe, start normally, too. Working my way up ranks until I was a Captain in this time period. When I might do some good.
A pang of guilt filled his heart. I'll never see Angel or Julie again. Or Zack, Tom, Leo, Cat, Lucy… He shook his head. No. I'm going to find a way back to the future, someway and somehow.
Around that time he dozed off.
Angel had tried to sleep again. It hadn't worked. And so she did the next best thing.
Her fists were growing numb. Her arms were burning with fatigue from the strain. But she continued to punch the bag hanging in front of her like it was the sole embodiment of everything making her feel screwed up.
She wanted to trust in Cat and Jarod to find a solution. Especially with that super-smart android helping them with the tech and science stuff. But everything reminded her that Rob was gone. That he might not be coming back. Which reminded her, in turn, of why she'd been the one to restart their relationship in the first place.
There was a part of her mad at Rob. Like it was his fault and not the fault of that damned Changeling or whatever was happening in the past. You always have to be the damn hero, Rob, she thought. Always the damn white knight riding off to save the day. Normally she liked that about him. But now… now it seemed to be a warning of how quickly he could be taken away from her. Permanently.
Angel yelled in frustration and stepped back to deliver a powerful roundhouse kick to the bag. This actually knocked it off of the hook above from the clasp not being fastened right. The punching bag hit the floor with a dull thump. Angel frowned and looked on to see a young Dorei male standing with his own punching bag, now swinging slightly from the remaining momentum from the last hit. Angel scoffed at it and bent over to pick it up.
"I do not think you are training very effectively at this point."
The deep voice caused Angel to look over her shoulder. She smirked and said, "Who said anything about training?"
The Klingon Worf was standing nearby. He was clad in what looked like a cross between a proper martial arts gi and a bathrobe. It was quite a different style from Angel's preferred sports bra and gym shorts combination, the current ones midnight black in color and marked with Nike symbols. She had a standard issue set in her branch colors, but the black had seemed a better fit for her mood. "I had assumed you had a reason for working so intently. But your form was clearly lacking."
Angel hooked the bag back up and looked at Worf with a bit less of a smirk this time. "It's almost midnight ship time. Shouldn't you be in bed like a good little Starfleet boy scout?"
"Klingons do not require as much sleep as Humans," Worf retorted.
"Right." Angel walked over to another bag. "Well, they do the t'ai chi on the other end of the gym. Chief Ghayati teaches yoga and t'ai chi every day. Or maybe you Klingons have something like it?"
"Mok'bara," Worf answered.
"Ah. Well, it's all the same 'wave your arms around' stuff to me."
"It allows a warrior to focus mind and body," Worf continued. "The movements help prepare us for battle."
"Good for you. But that's not my thing." Angel gave the bag a playful whack with her fist. "I'm more physical with combat."
"And yet you are distracted," Worf pointed out. "In battle, that would be a failing. A warrior's mind must be unclouded."
"Someone very close to me is stuck two hundred years in the past. Being clouded is something I'll have to deal with."
"That would be a mistake," Worf pointed out.
Something about his attitude rankled. Angel frowned. "Care to prove it?"
Worf smiled a toothy smile. "Gladly."
Angel felt her blood rush. She was going to wipe that smile off his smug face. It was something constructive to do, at least, while she waited for the brainiacs to find a way to rescue Robert. "Come on, then." She motioned for him to follow. They walked to the vacant boxing ring. Angel pulled out a plastic tooth guard and handed it to Worf. He eyed it, smirked, and handed it back. "Your dentist visit," she sighed, pulling out one for herself. She climbed into the ring and worked through the ropes.
Worf followed her up and walked to the opposite corner. "Are you prepared?", he asked.
Angel put the guard in her mouth and nodded. She assumed an offensive martial arts stance and observed Worf's defensive arm placement for a moment while advancing. He wasn't attacking yet; fine by her. He had mass on her, she needed to be the one moving going for weak spots. His stance was solid enough, no advantage there. I guess I'll make my own, she thought.
First she threw a few punches and kicks to test Worf's speed. Not too bad for his size. But not too good either. She evaded his counter-attacks and gave ground around the ring.
When Angel thought everything was in place, she went on the attack again. A number of punches and kicks, deflected, but all to set up the counter-attack she knew had to come. When it came, she grabbed for his arm.
She was quite surprised when it was her right arm that ended up grabbed instead. Angel let out a short cry of surprise at that. Worf used his leverage on her to kick her in the side of the ribs - nowhere vital, just enough force to not break anything, but painful as hell - and then throw her into the opposite corner. The impact knocked the breath out of Angel. She looked up at Worf as she recovered it. "You are distracted," he pointed out.
Angel snarled back and got back to her feet. She went on the attack again. This time Worf didn't just block blows, he weaved and ducked as necessary to avoid Angel's angry punches and kicks. One kick grazed him along the cheek. But that wasn't enough to keep his hands from coming up and gripping her by the lower leg. He pulled her off-balance and tossed her bodily into the corner again. This time he said nothing while Angel picked herself up from the ground. She put a hand to where she'd taken the blow to the ribs and gave Worf an angry look.
That angry look became another attack. Worf had to work for it this time; Angel wasn't just fast, but quite strong for her size, and the punch she managed to land on Worf's jaw drew blood from his lip. A solid kick to his shoulder was enough to dislodge his left arm from an attempt to grapple with her again. He had provoked her into a frenzy of attacks that still showed some calculation to them.
For a minute it looked like Angel's burst of angry effort might put Worf down in turn. But her attack slowed slightly, slightly enough that Worf was able to land a flat-palm blow to Angel's bruised right rib. It took all of Worf's focus and control to restrain the blow from doing more than hitting a weak spot; just a little more force and he would have broken the rib completely.
The strike broke Angel's attack down. She let out a cry of pain and fell back. Worf followed her as she went to the mat and pinned her upper torso in place with his forearm. "You are fast and strong, but you are also not judging the battle correctly. You are letting your anger dictate the course of battle. That is why I have defeated you. Do you yield?"
Angel punched him in the face. Worf felt an urge to return the blow and held it. He wasn't here to punch her into submission. Instead he continued the pressure and acted as if the punch hadn't done anything. "Do you yield?!"
There were a few more moments of struggling and then a harsh released breath of exasperation. She nodded and Worf got off of her.
The fight wasn't over quite yet though, it had merely shifted away from violence. Angel glared at him and demanded, "What do you want from me?!" She sat up. "You want me to admit that I'm Goddamned terrified? Because I am! Because… there is nothing I can do for Robert, nothing I can do to help save him, and…" She stopped and swallowed. Tears were forming in her eyes. "...I'm not a scientist. I can't sit there and whip up fancy solutions to problems. I'm good at getting dirty and physical. I know how to get hurt and hurt right back, and I know how to shoot things with a ship's weapons. That's what I am, that's what I do, and I'm damned proud of how well I can do it so long as I can protect the people I care about! But I can't shoot or punch an out-of-control jump point! I can't crack my knuckles and smirk to intimidate the Goddamn space-time continuum! There is nothing I can do for him and…" Angel's tirade was broken up as she sniffled. "...and I hate it. I'm helpless and I can't do anything about it."
Nothing was said for a moment. Worf looked at her intently and thought of his own predicament. The Enterprise, his Enterprise, gone. His efforts to fight off the Duras Sisters had been insufficient. The crew would eventually be broken up, a crew he had been honored to serve beside for eight years. "I know what it is like," he said. "I have faced the same problem before. And I have no answers for you." Aware of how uncomfortable the admission had been, he nodded. "Thank you."
"For?", Angel asked.
"You have shown trust in me by admitting to the truth. It took great courage. I am honored by your gesture."
Angel considered him for a moment. "Thank you," she replied. "You gave me an excuse to get it out. I'm not going to feel any better, but maybe I'll focus more."
"You are most welcome."
"And…" Angel checked her discarded multidevice. "...I am really late to get some sleep. So are you, right?"
"Indeed. I will see you again later."
"1800?", she asked.
He gave her a curious look.
"1800. I'll be here training." She smiled thinly. "Perhaps you can show me how you do that 'wave your arms' stuff with Klingons."
A low rumble of a chuckle came from Worf. "Of course."
Much to his relief, Robert's dreams were more pleasant this time. He didn't dream of anything that might be the future. He didn't even dream of his life on the Aurora.
Instead it was the farm. His grandmother's cooking. His grandfather laughing jovially at a story from the war while his family looked on. Beth with a young woman her age, happier than she'd ever been on the farm. His parents, sitting beside each other and stealing small kisses when no one looked, while Susanna ran around in the nearby field with friends.
And Julia was there, and Zack, and Tom, and all of his other friends, laughing and joking. Angel's hand was holding his. The scent of her hair made him feel warm and alive.
Despite everything, despite the wonders of space and the thrill of being at the center of a new era… this vista was something Robert realized he would have picked over everything else.
The dream was still vivid in his mind when he woke up. But it came with a sharp edge now. That isn't how things had happened. His grandmother had died when he was ten years old. HIs grandfather lasted a few years after that and died after having such a fierce argument with Beth over her personal life that she left for Portland and never came back.
And his parents… his sister… they were gone now.
All this time. All of the brilliant things in his new life. And yet that loss still ached. A piece of his heart that was ripped out and never filled, just made numb by the passage of time.
Robert turned and tried to go back to sleep. But he couldn't. Whether he'd rested too much or was just too upset by those thoughts, he simply wouldn't fall asleep.
There was noise from across the sickbay. Robert looked up and cracked an eye open. Phlox was slipping out. And he looked… agitated?
After he was gone Robert got curious. He couldn't sleep anymore anyway and his curiosity became insatiable. He got off the bed and walked into the other part of the sickbay. Test results were visible on some screens. Helixes of DNA twiirling about on others, highlighting chromosomes or what have you. Robert didn't really understand it.
But he also noticed something new. A small tube with a liquid inside. Robert looked intently at it. Why would Phlox leave it behind? Robert held up his arm toward it and activated the scanner on his multidevice. The holographic screen popped up over his forearm and showed results. The first results were in technical language, so he wasn't sure what it meant. He activated the feature to have the device programming simplify its results, or as Tom Barnes had always called it, "Scan-Results-For-Dummies Mode".
The result popped up: Genetic resequencing formula.
Robert read that. Resequencing? Why would Phlox make…
The Valakian plague. It's genetic. Then this must be…
Robert took the scan and saved it in his device, just to ensure there was a backup of what went into what could be a cure.. But other than that, he wasn't sure what else he should do. Obviously Phlox was off talking to Archer, informing him of the good news. This was Archer's business, not his.
As he returned to the bed, Robert knew that wasn't it for him. He was too awake. Too… wound up, perhaps. He needed to work things off. Walking around the ship seemed the best way to do that.
The Enterprise - this Enterprise anyway - was in its own way more familiar than the one from two hundred years in the future. This one felt like a World War II vessel instead of a starship, at least the starships Robert was used to. He only saw a couple of crew on his way forward through the ship. A little rumble in his belly reminded him he hadn't eaten in awhile.
He ultimately came upon one of the junior officers, with a red-trim blue uniform. An engineer, given the belt. "Excuse me," Robert said. "Can you direct me to the mess?"
"Sure." He indicated a direction and Robert gave a thank you before continuing on.
It didn't take long for him to arrive at his destination. "...is a fundamental scientific principle," he heard a voice say from within the door to the mess. It slid open for him and Robert stepped in to find he wasn't alone. Phlox was standing nearby and looking toward Archer, by one of the tables. They both looked toward him. "Oh. I'm sorry, I was getting something to eat." Robert nodded. "I'm guessing you're sharing the good news?"
He was struck by the uncomfortable look that came to the alien's face. "Good news?", Archer asked. He looked rather tense as well.
Robert had the bad feeling nothing was as he had anticipated. Nevertheless he saw no reason not to be honest. "I… well, I assumed Dr. Phlox was telling you about what I assumed was the cure."
Archer evinced surprise. Phlox frowned at him. "I wasn't aware you were an expert in genetic matters, Captain."
"I'm not.." Robert tapped his multidevice. "But the scanner in my multidevice identified whatever you made as a genetic re-sequencing formula."
"Is this true?", Archer asked. "Did you make a cure already?"
Phlox shifted uncomfortably, which left Robert even more confused. Why would he be so upset about this? "Yes," he finally admitted. "I did."
"Were you going to tell me?"
"I admit I had some doubts. Clearly you are having difficulty understanding my position on the matter."
Robert held a hand up. He could feel the tension in the room and he wanted answers. "I'm afraid I'm lost here. This is good. This is the cure you're looking for. So what's wrong here? Why would you hide it?"
Archer looked to Phlox but said nothing. It was clear that his sentiment was that Phlox should explain himself.
Phlox sighed. "Human compassion is a remarkable thing. It's one of your species' positive traits. But it can be short-sighted at times, and I believe it's being short-sighted here."
"I don't follow, Doctor," Robert said. "What's wrong? I mean, you made the cure, simple."
"No, Mister Dale. Not so simple. I did make a cure. But I am of the opinion that it shouldn't be given to the Valakians."