Star Trek: Mariner
Episode 008:
Temporal Morality
by Bodie A. Ashton
(uss_mariner_01@enterprise.startrek.org)

Episode 008: Temporal Morality

PROLOGUE

Captain's Log, Stardate 56846.1
Mariner is returning to Utopia Planitia, after serving as the backbone of the temporary mission to the Romulan Star Empire, in the aftermath of the Reman affair. The Romulans have been surprisingly accommodating, but then again, the past few weeks must have been traumatic for the entire empire.
The Enterprise was towed back to Earth by the USS Intrepid, which was part of the task force originally set up to join Captain Picard to try and deal with the Reman warbird Scimitar. That left us as the most superior Starfleet ship in the region; we received a communique‚ from Kathryn later that day, to the effect that we were to lead the joint Federation-Romulan relief effort until the USS Guardian arrived from Deep Space Seven. She arrived in orbit of Romulus two days ago.
It has been an interesting time; to think that Mariner was rushed out of Utopia Planitia to determine whether the Sierrans would use nucleonic weapons to annihilate the Ta'ga, and ended up conducting negotiations with Commander Donatra of the Imperial Romulan Fleet! Such is the universe we live in...
Lieutenant-Commander Davies has been doing a wonderful job keeping us together. There are a great many systems on this ship, though, that still need significant repairs. Our ETA in sector 001 is 2300 hours tomorrow, however our course will take us through the largely-uncharted Beta Four-Eight-Nine system, and our long range sensors have detected what could be a sub-hydromic particle fountain on the third planet in the system. I have instructed Counsellor Gregory, who is taking a spell commanding the night watch, to drop out of warp when we near the system, in order for us to take scans of this rare phenomenon.

* * * * *

Counsellor Rebecca Gregory sat in the 'Big Chair' on the bridge of the mighty starship Mariner, commanding the vessel while the senior officers were off-duty. She held the rank of lieutenant, but this was a status she rarely used. However, Jakob Ramelow had recently assigned her to the bridge as officer of the night watch, a position she relished. It wasn't often she had the chance to make an impact on the chain of command.

She consulted the starchart on the small screen embedded in the chair.

"Ensign", she called to the helm officer, a Deltan female by the name of Elemsi. "How long until we reach the Beta Four-Eight-Nine system?"

The hairless woman at the conn station consulted her console.

"We are almost at the edge of the solar system", she reported. Gregory nodded.

"Very well. Take us out of warp."

The Sovereign-class starship instantly decelerated to a sublight speed, just as she came abeam of the outermost planet in the system.

Gregory smiled.

"Nice timing, Mr Elemsi", she complimented the helm officer. "Lay in a course for the third planet and engage at full impulse."

Gregory felt the minute change in pitch as the Mariner swung to starboard several degrees.

Rebecca Gregory had always enjoyed the feeling of a starship in motion. From a very early age, the human had felt an affinity to all types of transportation craft. As a girl in her preteen years, growing up in Florida, she had enjoyed sailing small dinghies. One of her happiest childhood memories was when she and her father took a forty-foot yacht down from Miami into the Caribbean, while they made stops at islands with exotic names, like Cuba and Jamaica. She had served in Starfleet for nine years now, and had visited a vast number of different worlds, yet she still looked to those days sailing into Kingston Harbour, or enjoying fresh coconuts in Havana. Back on Earth, she had two houses; one was owned by her parents and was located in Miami. The other was her very own, and could be found on the little island of St. Maarten. Whenever she had leave, she would aim to spend a few days with her parents, and then sail her yacht down to her isle. To her, any planet without exquisite, pristine oceans was not worth the effort of visiting.

The third planet in the system, simply designated 'Beta Charlie' by Starfleet, seemed to suit her perfectly. There was one large land mass, and a multitude of tiny islets dotting the beautiful blue seas. It seemed a shame that the world was unpopulated.

In the centre of the continent was what appeared to be a tiny, sparkling blue blemish. The science officer on duty, Ensign Vasili Mihailov, called to Gregory from his station.

"Lieutenant, there is definitely a sub-hydromic particle fountain on that continent", he reported in a broad Ukrainian accent. "It is one of the largest ever seen in the Federation; I am running scans now."

Gregory smiled. A particle fountain was nothing too drastic, known only for its rarity. This didn't detract from the fact that Mariner had found one.

The turbolift doors at the rear of the bridge swished open. Gregory turned, and her gaze landed on Captain Simon Anthony. She smiled.

"Wanting a share of the glory?", she asked cheekily.

Anthony chuckled.

"I just thought I'd check up on how my night watch staff are doing", he said. "Besides, I think I drank too much coffee; I can't sleep."

An alarm chirped at the ops station. The officer there, Lieutenant Reshir, looked up.

"I'm picking up a large energy disturbance dead astern of us", he said. "Range thirty thousand kilometres."

Gregory bit her lip.

"On screen."

The screen blinked, and in a moment was presenting the view aft of the ship.

The space behind Mariner reminded Gregory of a storm she once sailed through on the way to St. Maarten. The clouds had billowed then, and changed form constantly. The same could be seen on the viewer, except these clouds were pigmented a deep yellow or orange, rather than the grey and black of the Caribbean storm clouds.

Abruptly a massive spherical object erupted from the disturbance, approaching the stern of Mariner. Gregory took no chances.

"Helm, get us out of here", she ordered. "Analysis, Vasili."

The Ukrainian tapped his console.

"It's a ball of temporal energy", he replied. His tone was anxious, but Gregory could understand that. Anything to do with temporal physics was something all starship captains tried to avoid at all costs.

She turned to Anthony.

"Would you like to take command, Captain?"

He shook his head.

"It's your show, Rebecca."

She sucked in a breath.

"It's gaining on us", Reshir warned from ops. Gregory stood up from the chair.

"Elemsi, bring us to course one-three-three mark five-nine."

The helm officer complied, and the ship elegantly swung to her new heading. The Antosian ops officer, however, shook his head.

"It's matching our course."

Gregory raised an eyebrow.

"Yellow alert", she shouted. "Raise shields. Helm, make your heading zero-five-three mark six. Engineering, standby to go to warp."

Ensign Toby Garrick's voice came over the comm.

"Ready when you are, bridge."

"We are approaching the edge of the system", Elemsi stated. Gregory nodded.

"Take us to warp."

The ship surged as her warp engines activated. Almost immediately, however, she shuddered and swayed. The science officer looked to his superiors in despair.

"It's generating some kind of dampening field. Our warp field is unstable."

Gregory sighed.

"Ensign Garrick, power down your warp engines."

She turned to her commanding officer.

"Captain, I'm out of my league", she said earnestly. "Please, take your chair."

Anthony wasted no time. He hurried down from behind the centre of the bridge and took his place in front of his chair.

"Helm", he instructed, "make your bearing two-oh-two mark one. Senior officers are to report to the bridge."

He glanced to the tactical station, manned by Ensign Theodore Miklos.

"Sound red alert, Ensign."

The Starfleet battleship wheeled over again, in her desperate attempt to avoid the temporal sphere. Still it matched her course. This confounded Anthony.

"Ensign Mihailov", he said to the night watch science officer. "Why is it following us?"

"I don't know, sir", he answered honestly, just as the turbolift deposited Lieutenant Alexandra Lane and Lieutenant-Commander Tasek on the bridge. "It could be attracted by anything, from our shield polarity to our warp core."

"Sir", ventured Reshir. "I would guess it's our warp core. After all, it has been screwing up our warp field."

Anthony considered this as Lane took Reshir's place at ops.

"I'm not going to eject the core if we don't know for sure that that's the attraction", he decided. "Engineering, prepare to release drive plasma from the nacelles on my mark."

He turned to the Deltan at the helm station.

"Mr Elemsi, take us on an elliptical course towards the sun", he said. The helmsman complied, and the ship banked gently to port, in the direction of the Beta 489 star. As it did so, Anthony again spoke into the comm.

"Toby, release plasma now."

On each warp nacelle, a venting port slid open on Anthony's order. Immediately, purple streams of plasma emanated from them both. It was a majestic sight; the battleship streaking at full impulse, trailed by two long lilac jets.

The captain hailed Main Engineering again, just as Henry Davies arrived in that department, and while Commander Jakob Ramelow, Lieutenant Lon Tanier and Ensign Tolian Brenkar took their stations on the bridge.

"Engineering, get ready to dump as much plasma as you can on my mark."

The seconds ticked by, the bridge in silence as Mariner drew closer to the sun and the temporal anomaly gained on the starship. Finally, Anthony shouted into the comm.

"Engineering, dump now!"

The stern of the ship seemed to explode into violet as a sizeable load of plasma was forcefully jettisoned from the nacelles. As the plasma petered away, Anthony turned to Tanier.

"Lon, make your bearing zero-zero-zero mark nine."

As the ship regally banked away, all eyes were glued on the viewscreen. Anthony's plan was simple; if the sphere was attracted by the warp core, then a glut of warp plasma might occupy it enough for the ship to escape.

The entire bridge staff gasped as the anomaly tore through the cloud of plasma, unabated, gaining on Mariner.

Suddenly, the giant ship lurched violently, and came to a shuddering halt.

Anthony, standing at the time, pitched forward, smashing his head against Tanier's seat. Counsellor Gregory was beside him in an instant. Despite a nasty gash over his eye, he waved her away.

"Report", he requested.

"We're caught in some kind of stabilising graviton beam", Lane answered. "We're stationary."

Anthony looked to Ramelow. Both were thinking exactly the same thing.

"That's an awfully concentrated beam to be a natural phenomenon."

Ramelow turned to the tactical station.

"Tasek, would a quantum torpedo destabilise that beam enough for us to escape?"

Tasek raised an eyebrow.

"I am uncertain", he admitted. "I cannot make an assertion based on the data available."

"We'll try it anyway", declared Anthony. "Tasek, fire a torpedo from the stern tube. Maximum yield."

The sparkling blue projectile blasted away from Mariner, homing in on the bright orb. It cut through the outer layer, and did not visibly detonate. The effect, however, was immediate; the graviton beam began to splutter as Mariner, in spurts, managed to pull away inch by inch.

Anthony stood from his kneeling position and smiled.

Without warning, the deck pitched as a bolt of energy flew down the dying beam, striking Mariner with immense force. Flailing his arms, Anthony lost his balance, and he fell again, his head striking the edge of the helmsman's chair with an audible crunch. Then, another impact, and Ramelow could feel the Sovereign-class ship losing headway. One last bolt slammed into the ship, and then the bridge was dark, as the power died.

Because the viewer no longer functioned without power, the crew did not witness their ship being drawn into the bubble of temporal energy. Once it was fully enveloped, the sphere shrank, smaller and smaller, until finally, it winked out of the Beta 489 system completely.

CHAPTER ONE

Commander Jakob Ramelow sat in his chair on the bridge of the USS Mariner, waiting. He was waiting for the inevitable request of a status report from his captain, whom he could not see; main power was offline, and the emergency lighting had not activated, leaving the bridge black as night. The demand, however, was not forthcoming. The reason became apparent when the auxiliary lighting finally snapped on, and Ramelow saw with horror that Anthony was crumpled on the floor next to Lon Tanier, blood pouring from a gaping wound above his eye. He was not moving.

Rebecca Gregory rushed to the captain, but Ramelow stayed seated. The captain had been incapacitated; he was now in command.

"Report!"

The various screens at the science station flickered, but the slightly dazed Tolian Brenkar read off his screens.

"Commander, we've been absorbed by the sphere."

Ramelow turned to the young El Aurian.

"Are we still in the Beta Four-Eight-Nine system?", he asked. Brenkar shook his head.

"Technically, sir, we're nowhere. That is to say, we're everywhere. I mean..."

"Take a breath, Ensign, and try again", suggested Ramelow impatiently. Brenkar remained silent for a short time.

"Sorry, sir", he said at last. "What I mean is, we've been phased out of the conventional space-time continuum. That as it is, we are, to use a human phrase, neither here nor there."

Ramelow stared at him. A bead of sweat began to trickle down his face. Temporal paradoxes made him uncomfortable, and he was out of his league; he had not been good at the temporal mechanics section of the Academy syllabus.

Gregory abruptly clicked her commbadge.

"Transporter Room One, we have a medical emergency on the bridge. Beam Captain Anthony and I directly to Sickbay."

The transporter chief acknowledged the call, and soon after both the counsellor and the captain were enveloped in two sparkling cyan columns. In a moment, they had disappeared.

Ramelow surveyed the bridge. Most of the screens at the various stations were flashing on and off, struggling to function. The main viewscreen was still dark.

The comm. beeped.

"Bridge, this is Davies."

Ramelow sighed.

"Go ahead, Chief."

"Exec., we're about to bring main power back online. Whatever hit us only temporarily disrupted our energy flow."

"That's good news, Henry", Ramelow said, happy for small favours. "I look forward to being back at full capacity."

He paused, as the secondary lights cut out and were replaced by the brighter lights, as fully powered by the warp core.

"Incidentally, that was good work with the quantum torpedo tubes. We almost got away. I thought we needed a starbase crew to repair the launchers."

Ramelow could imagine the engineer smiling self-indulgently.

"Don't thank me, sir", the South African replied. "Thank the Romulan engineers from the Valdore. They really know their jobs."

"Commander", called Alex Lane from ops. "Short range sensors report another ship out there."

"On screen", the First Officer ordered.

The previously dead screen blinked, and there in front of him was a small ship. Ramelow appraised her. She was about the size of an Intrepid-class cruiser, but a good deal more streamlined. She had two gull-wing-style pylons attached to the hull, shoulder-mounted and about halfway down the body of the ship. The bow tapered into a sharp point. She was an attractive silver-grey, and reminded Ramelow of the old Falcon FL-70 single-man reconnaissance craft of the late Twenty-Third Century. Of course, the vessel he was looking at now was a good deal larger than the Falcon.

"Analysis, Mr Lane."

Lane had been running scans of the vessel ever since short range sensors had come back online, and now she reported to the acting captain what she had ascertained.

"It's emitting some kind of temporal field", she replied. "Her powerplant is tremendously powerful, but I'm not detecting any kind of weapons. I am reading fifty-seven biosigns, and..."

She stopped, squinted at the monitor. She shook her head in disbelief.

"And what, Lieutenant?", prompted Ramelow. The Lunan looked up.

"Sir, the signature of their power core is Federation."

"What!"

"Confirmed", called Tasek from tactical. "I also concur with Lieutenant Lane that they do not carry any weapons that our scanners can detect. However, the configuration of that ship is very advanced; it is my estimate that it is from the future in our timeline."

"Meaning we might not be able to detect their weapons because they're shielded from sensors by superior technology", guessed Tanier.

"Indeed", agreed the Vulcan. "It is also possible that our sensors would not recognise their weaponry as weapons, in the same way as the phasers of Federation starships have been mistaken for simple power control systems by less-advanced spacefaring species in the past."

"If they were the source of that graviton tractor beam I'd count that as a weapon", Ramelow growled, "as well as the pulses they sent down it to knock out our power systems."

He looked again to Lane.

"Hail them."

Lane tapped at the comm. controls.

"They're responding", she said, just as the screen flashed to reveal a face. It was a human face, Ramelow saw, and what he could see of the figure's neck and shoulders indicated he was wearing a uniform.

"You are Captain Anthony of the starship Mariner?", the stranger enquired. Ramelow raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"No. Captain Anthony is in sickbay, unconscious after your pulse attack. I'm Commander Jakob Ramelow, the First Officer. Who are you?"

The figure blinked.

"I am Captain Paul Atchison of the Federation timeship Hawking", the other man replied in a broad Australian accent. "Sorry about those pulses, but you did fire a torpedo at us."

"Only because we were being pursued and held in a tractor beam against our will", protested Ramelow. Atchison smirked.

"Let's not split hairs, Commander. We're from the Twenty-Ninth Century, and we have an assignment for you."

Ramelow almost burst into laughter. It seemed preposterous, ridiculous in fact, that he would do a favour for a captain he didn't know, from a future he didn't know, with a vessel that had more or less opened fire on him. He flashed his teeth in an incongruous grin.

"And what, may I ask, does this assignment entail?"

"I will tell you when I come aboard", Atchison replied. "I can tell you the eventual result though.

"Commander Ramelow, you are going to save the Federation."

* * * * *

"Let's start by making one thing very clear."

Paul Atchison looked up from the futuristic PADD he was holding, and stared patiently at Commander Ramelow, who had addressed him from the other side of the table. They were in the Mariner's briefing room; just the two of them, for Atchison to state his case.

"What thing is that, Commander?", he asked with a rise in his voice.

"If you don't convince me very quickly that we must conduct a mission for you, I want you off my ship immediately."

Atchison smirked again, which irritated Ramelow.

"Commander, I said that you'd save the Federation, and I wasn't kidding. The Federation is doomed as long as the Darsellians are around."

Ramelow held up his hands.

"Wait a second. Who are the Darsellians?"

Atchison sat back in his chair.

"The Darsellians are an artificially-created race from the Twenty-Ninth Century. They were created as test-tube experiments by another race, the Omnisions, who are at war with the Federation. The Omnisions sent their experimental race back in time, using their own advanced temporal technology, and settled them on Darsellia XII, hence the name for the species.

"The Darsellians were to have advanced according to a genetic code, so that they would be fully warp- and temporally-capable by the Twenty-Eighth Century. At that time, their programming would compel them to align themselves with the Omnisions, and the Federation would be fighting a war on two fronts.

"The Hawking was in the process of making her first trial temporal incursion when we received word of the experiment from Starfleet Intelligence. Luckily, the temporal vortex protected us from the changes to the timeline, but when we returned to our own time, we discovered that the Federation had been destroyed by the Omnisions and the Darsellians. Earth was gone; only a cloud of dust and chunks of base elements were left. There were small bands of human, Vulcan, Bajoran and Betazoid resistance fighters, but we learnt over the comm. channels that they were being destroyed.

"Then, we were attacked by a Darsellian patrol cruiser. We were able to cripple them by creating a temporal shockwave as we again went to travel through time, but we didn't exactly get off scot-free."

Atchison took a sip of a mug of coffee he had ordered from the replicator.

"Our quantum time drive was irrevocably damaged; we can travel as much as five hundred years into the past, but no further. Luckily, our chief engineer has been ably to put together a device we call the 'temporter', which allows us to send other objects further into the past."

Ramelow stared at him.

"Let me guess...Mariner is that object?"

"Yes", Atchison said simply. "We have determined that we will achieve optimal power expenditure by coming back to this year and sending you back."

"Why don't you just go to Starfleet Command, and get them to take action now?", asked Ramelow, although he already supposed he knew the answer.

"First of all", the Australian captain said, "it's doubtful that Starfleet as a whole would take decisive action. We'd be lost in their bureaucratic red-tape.

"Secondly, by 2378, the Darsellians have taken a huge evolutionary jump. They've had warp drive for only ten years, but already they have a self-defence fleet which, while relatively weak, would still inflict a number of casualties before Starfleet got past them."

Ramelow shook his head. He had an idea as to what Atchison proposed, but he didn't like it. Atchison seemed to read his mind.

"Yes, Commander, we are asking you to destroy an entire race. It's a big ask, but we have every confidence in you. After all, the Temporal Prime Directive demands it."

The acting captain of the USS Mariner thought for a couple of minutes in silence. Just a short time ago, he was fighting to prevent the Ta'ga from committing genocide against Sierra Prime. Now, he was being asked to behave like the Ta'ga. More than that, he reflected sadly, was that the Temporal Prime Directive not only did not forbid it, but condoned it.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, Atchison", he said at last. "Give me the details. I'll need to talk with my senior staff, though."

Atchison seemed to cheer up.

"Great!"

* * * * *

"They're asking us to do what?", Lieutenant Alexandra Lane gasped incredulously. The whole briefing room was filled with the senior officers, and all were wide-eyed with the proposal from the Hawking's captain, as explained by Commander Ramelow.

Ramelow leaned forward.

"Captain Atchison has asked us to destroy the Darsellians", he reiterated. "He wants to send us back to 2154, when they were still in a late-medieval stage, so that we meet with no resistance."

"Just how many of them are there?", asked Brenkar. His face had sunk into pallor, but Ramelow could well understand why; the El Aurian homeworld had been destroyed almost a century earlier by the Borg, and only a handful of the species had escaped.

Ramelow didn't know what the population of Darsellia XII was in 2154, but Patrick Coleman interjected before the First Officer could admit his ignorance.

"Based on the information we have from the Hawking about the race", he said quietly, "I would estimate a population of approximately twenty-eight million."

"And they're here in the Alpha Quadrant?", Lon Tanier asked, puzzled. "How come we've never heard of them, if they're warp-capable?"

"Apparently", Ramelow replied, "the Omnisions created a sensor dampening field around Darsellia XII, which activated the moment the Darsellians entered the industrial age, which was in approximately 2240. Before then, we have records of an early Starfleet mission which found a civilisation there, but it was only in the middle ages, so they were left alone."

"We could fire a brace of quantum torpedoes into the atmosphere", Tasek stated. "If the engineering staff could add a small pod of warp coolant to each warhead, the explosion would ionise it, and create a deadly gas, which would quickly disseminate through the biosphere."

Lane looked at him, aghast.

"Tasek, we're talking about killing millions of people!"

"I assure you that such a coolant-based gas would be completely painless", the Vulcan replied.

"That's not the issue!", Lieutenant-Commander Henry Davies shouted. "Jesus, Tasek! We'd all be guilty of creating a holocaust not seen since Red Sabbath! Only, this time, we can't claim that it's war. True, the slaughter of both Jews and Muslims in retaliation for each other was barbaric, but this is on an even larger scale!"

Tasek appeared nonplussed.

"You object to the number of Darsellians we would kill, Mr Davies. I wonder if your attitude would be different if they were Borg or Jem'Hadar."

Davies had to restrain himself from jumping from his seat in rage, but Ramelow bade for silence.

"Gentlemen, we're not getting anywhere here."

Doctor Taryll Kalis raised his hand.

"Commander", he said. "Whether we find this action against our ethics is not the issue. The way I see it, the Darsellians must be...how should I put this...erased from the timeline."

"How can you justify that, Doctor?", Ramelow demanded.

"Quite simply, because they are not supposed to be there", the Bajoran pointed out. "They were created as a temporal weapon. They are an anomaly in time, and we cannot allow them to continue as such."

"Doctor!", Lane exclaimed. "There must be men, women and children on that planet who are not going to be soldiers in this fight. In fact, none of them will even be a threat until the Twenty-Eighth Century."

Taryll nodded.

"Lieutenant, if I found a bacteria that couldn't be contained and I thought it would pose a threat to the crew of this ship in the next decade, I would have it vaporised. If a patient had a tumour, or some other kind of abomination that shouldn't be there, I would destroy it."

He spoke calmly and coldly. Lane scowled.

"Of all the people, Doctor, I would have thought you would be the chief defender of the Darsellians", she said angrily. "Not only because you're a doctor and you're tasked with preserving life. You're also a Bajoran. You seem to have forgotten that the Cardassians tried to eradicate your species, too. Should that have been allowed?"

Taryll smashed his fist on the table.

"The Federation did allow it", he yelled. "For fifty years, we were butchered in droves, and the Federation never tried to stop it. Do not lecture me, Lieutenant, about the Occupation, because I lived through it! The Darsellians will have a quick and painless death; the Bajorans were experimented on, were shot, were tortured, were abused in the most horrific manners.

"Bajor would never be, could never be, a threat to the Federation, but you didn't lift a finger to save us. Now, we're being sent to humanely kill a race that will destroy the Federation in the future, and shouldn't even exist, and you take umbrage!"

"The ethical question", Tasek interrupted, "is whether the theoretical future takes precedence over the material present, whether people who have not yet been conceived have priority over those who live now."

The room was silent now, as everyone considered the succinct encapsulation of their predicament.

The silence was broken by the comm.

"Commander Ramelow", came the voice of Lieutenant Reshir, who had been temporarily given duty as officer of the watch. "The temporal field is collapsing. The Hawking reports we are about to re-enter normal space."

Ramelow looked around the room, at the faces of the senior officers of the Mariner. He'd been thrown into command by circumstances, and was now being forced to decide the fate of millions of people on a world he hadn't even heard of until an hour or so before.

He rose from his chair with a sigh.

"Henry", he said reluctantly to the chief engineer, "I want you to prepare some containers of coolant. Tasek, coordinate with the engineers to ready those quantum torpedoes."

"You can't be serious", Davies muttered.

Ramelow's face was unreadable.

"Yes, I am", he whispered as he left the briefing room.

CHAPTER TWO

The Darsel system is a system of fifteen planets, orbiting a binary star cluster. The inner six planets are spaced in abnormally-close proximity to one another, and the intense gravity forces resulting from this proximity meant that those six planets have suffered from millennia of seismic instability. It is not uncommon for large areas of the crust of one planet to be literally torn off the globe, only to collide within moments with that planet's neighbours.

Darsellia XII, on the other hand, was an idyllic Class M planet, blessed with a temperate climate, pure oceans, rivers and lakes, as well as an abundant array of wildlife, scattered over six continents and several islands. Society among the Darsellians, unlike what was seen during the middle ages on Earth, was relatively peaceful; most of the continents only had one power, uniting their people. On the northernmost continent, however, were situated two conflicting empires.

The Gilvresh had gone to war with the Kekmar on many occasions during the past two centuries. Their conflicts had culminated in the Battle of Vaarn Hill, when their armies virtually annihilated each other. No one side could claim victory, but in a stunning diplomatic coup, the Gilvresh monarch, King Tamaris II, negotiated with his counterparts for a joint settlement to be created on the site of the gory battle.

The town of Vaarn Hill had flourished after a few early setbacks, such as an armed uprising by the Kekmar settlers during the first year. This had been dealt with peacefully when Tamaris II travelled without escort to the village, showing the rebels that he was unafraid of them, and believed in the peace.

In the celestial year of 14238, Tamaris II was still on the throne in the Kingdom of Gilvre, and Vaarn Hill had become a lucrative trade zone between the once-mortal enemies.

On the third day of Mulamel, the governor of the town, Prefect Aris Yesidra, was walking through his garden, when he chanced to look into the sky. Almost directly overhead, there was a prolonged flash of orange that blossomed like a sadha rose, before suddenly closing again into a brilliant flare.

Yesidra stared at the sky for a few moments, and then continued on his way. Atmospheric displays were not uncommon over Vaarn Hill; with the cosmic explosions from the innermost planets, the Darsellian heavens were often lit with beautiful displays. Yesidra, and indeed everyone who saw the glimmer, waved it off as another of the commonplace illumination their planet was fortunate to be a witness of.

* * * * *

Lieutenant-Commander Henry Davies keyed in the final sequence on the small control panel of quantum torpedo 10451/QF001, before closing the inspection hatch and locking it in place. The first torpedo was now equipped with the coolant pod, and could, at any moment, be launched at the unsuspecting Darsellians. He felt sick to the stomach that he was assisting in the destruction of an entire species. Ramelow had given him a task to perform, however, and like always, he would obey.

"This one's ready", he informed Tasek, who was at the torpedo bay control station, barely a few feet away.

"So is this one", called Ensign Garrick from the torpedo behind Davies. Both of the senior engineers were personally conducting the modifications.

"Very well", Tasek responded. "Crewman Jantak, Commander Davies' torpedo must be taken to tube number one. Crewman Lorris, Ensign Garrik's must be loaded into tube number two."

Crewman Jantak arrived alongside 10451/QF001 with a loading trolley, and with the chief engineer's help, he used antigravs to move the deadly device on to the cart. Then, he transported it though to the loading bay. The same was occurring with Garrick.

Davies looked to Tasek with a woeful grin.

"By the way, Tasek, I would not feel the same way if we were going to wipe out the Borg or the Jem'Hadar. Both were more or less bred to destroy. They have no civilians. The Darsellians do."

"We do not know that for certain", Tasek reminded him. "The information we have on the Darsellians is incomplete."

Davies threw down the laser drill he was holding.

"I can't believe we're doing this", he said. "This is wrong."

"We are carrying out Commander Ramelow's orders, in accordance with the Temporal Prime Directive", Tasek replied. "I do not see how anything we are doing is 'wrong'."

Davies shook his head.

"I wish I could be like you, Tasek. I wish I didn't feel guilty for condemning an entire civilisation to death, but I do. Besides, isn't what we're doing actually against the Prime Directive? Aren't we interfering in a pre-warp culture in a very major way?"

"You are forgetting that this pre-warp culture only exists as a result of a breach of the Temporal Accords", the Vulcan pointed out.

Davies shook his head again as the next torpedoes arrived to be refitted.

"I don't know, Tasek. Does this mean we can commit genocide whenever the future doesn't look rosy? That is what we're doing, after all; the Federation was beaten in a war, and so we've gone back in time to remove our future enemies."

Tasek cocked his head.

"You do not believe that we should attack the Darsellians", the Vulcan said, more a statement than a question. "However, you continue to create the means we will utilise in order to attack them. Why is this so?"

Davies' eyes flung daggers at the Vulcan tactical officer.

"I am a Starfleet officer", he muttered icily. "I follow my orders."

"Bridge to Forward Torpedo Bay", the comm. chimed, interrupting before the conversation could progress. Tasek hit the comm. panel on the console.

"Tasek here, Mr Tanier."

"Are you ready down there, Lieutenant-Commander?"

Tasek gave a sideways glance at Davies.

"Yes. Commander Davies and Ensign Garrick are making the final modifications to the torpedoes now."

"Good", Tanier replied. "Tasek, please return to the bridge. Commander Ramelow wants our chief tactical officer up here when we have to fire."

"Understood. Forward Torpedo Bay out."

Tasek turned. Davies nodded.

"Go, Tasek", he said wearily. "Toby and I will be finished in a couple of minutes. You can dismiss the armoury team as well; we can load these quantums ourselves."

Tasek nodded, and promptly rounded up Jantak and Lorris, who were glad to be dismissed early from their duties. Then, he left, leaving the two engineers.

"This one's done", Garrick said as he completed work on his torpedo. Davies had also finished.

"Let's get them loaded, then", he ordered softly. Soon, using antigravs and the loading trolleys, the two torpedoes were in line to be shot from their tubes. Just as Garrick and Davies were about to leave the loading bay, Davies stopped.

"You go ahead, Toby", he said. "I'll be along in a second."

Garrick looked at him quizzically, but obeyed the order, and stepped out of the bay. The door did not close completely behind him, however, because its circuits were still damaged from the Battle for Bajor engagement. Garrick turned around to try and fix the door. All the while, his eyes peered though the damaged door.

Henry Davies checked a small computer terminal near the torpedo tubes. Satisfied, he turned, and opened one of the small side panels, where weapons are held to provide the crew easy access to sidearms in the event of boarding. He removed a small hand phaser.

To the side of the room were the burnt-out remains of the firing sequence gel packs. Davies and the Romulan crews had replaced these with a tangled assortment of tubes, wires and isolinear circuitry. They not only relayed orders from the tactical station on the bridge to the torpedo tubes, but also regulated the discharge of ionised gas and the other by-products of the torpedo mechanisms.

Davies aimed and fired. The phaser was not set to full strength, but it ripped through most of the isolinear circuitry, and they exploded in sparks. Content with the damage, Davies returned the phaser to the side panel.

Garrick beat a hasty retreat as Davies departed the torpedo bay.

* * * * *

Ramelow was just exiting his quarters on the way to the bridge, when he was waylaid by Patrick Coleman.

"Commander!", the mathematician shouted down the corridor, gaining the attention of the acting captain. Ramelow turned.

"What can I do for you, Patrick?"

"Sir, I've been thinking about Captain Atchison", he said. "I may have some information to share with you.

"You probably know that I studied at Oxford. What you probably don't know is that I studied in Australia before that; I am, after all, Australian by birth. My secondary school, the Collegiate School of St. Peter, still stands in Adelaide, in South Australia, by the way."

"What's your point?", Ramelow asked impatiently. Coleman nodded.

"Well, sir, Paul Atchison had an Australian accent. He's a Sydneysider, from his accent. Also, his facial features have led me to conclude that a certain Atchison I studied alongside in Australia was one of his ancestors."

Ramelow looked at him.

"That's fascinating, Doctor, but I really must be getting to the bridge."

He tried to leave, but Coleman grabbed his arm and held him firm.

"Commander", he said forcefully. "If I were you, I wouldn't trust Captain Atchison any more than you have to."

Ramelow was puzzled. Coleman gave him a powerful look, and then was gone. Commander Ramelow shrugged, and resumed his course to the bridge.

* * * * *

The moment Ramelow stepped out of the turbolift, he began barking orders.

"Lon, give us the optimal angle for firing on the planet. Tasek, prepare to fire on my mark."

Tanier and Tasek nodded their assent, and Mariner rotated slightly, until her nose was pointing directly at the planet below. Tasek, in the meantime, had opened the forward torpedo tubes, and was preparing to fire.

"Tactical is ready, sir", he reported.

A second later, Tanier spun around on his chair to face Ramelow.

"Helm station is also ready, Captain", he said.

Ramelow sat in the captain's chair, noticing that his hands were icy. He was also aware of the entire bridge staff's eyes boring into him. He sighed.

"Mr Tasek, you may commence firing."

Tasek thumbed the firing control on his console. Ramelow looked to the screen.

There were no blue projectiles streaking away from the ship, into the atmosphere. There were no impacts with the crust of the planet. There was no green haze as the coolant gas diffused throughout the globe. Instead, Ramelow heard a rumble coming from somewhere beneath them, followed by a loud warning klaxon, and a flat female computerised voice.

"Warning: Firing chamber plasma leak, Forward Torpedo Bay."

Ramelow gaped. Then, he turned to Lane.

"I'll be in my ready room", he yelled. "Once the engineers have cleaned up the mess in the Forward Torpedo Bay, get Davies and Garrick up here!"

* * * * *

The two senior engineers entered the ready room at the same time, though they had been in different areas of the ship when called for. Ramelow ushered them in.

"What happened in the torpedo bay?", he asked bluntly.

Davies swallowed.

"It seems the fire control circuitry was damaged by a high energy discharge", he reported in a monotone just louder than a whisper. Ramelow looked up, surprised.

"Do we know what caused it?"

Davies could have said he didn't know. He could have claimed it was an overload of the makeshift hardware. But he had taken a stand based on his ethics, and he wasn't going to void that by lying.

"It was a phaser blast", he admitted, "and I was the one who fired."

Ramelow stared, his mouth dropping open in shock.

"I couldn't stand by and be a party to mass murder", Davies continued. "So I crippled our Forward Torpedo Bay. And no, before you ask, there is no way the engineering department can repair that damage. It's too extensive."

Ramelow jumped.

"I should throw you in the brig for this, Davies!", he shouted in fury. "That's insubordination, sabotage and treason. In fact, I would throw you in the brig, but you're too valuable at the moment. You're under arrest, though; when you're off duty, you will be in your quarters. Is that understood?"

Davies frowned.

"Am I to assume that you plan to continue the mission?", he asked.

Ramelow nodded.

"We'll use the aft tubes now."

"In that case, sir, I refuse to report for duty", Davies responded.

Ramelow was about to begin another yelling tirade, when Lane burst over the comm.

"Captain Ramelow, short range sensors are detecting a vessel approaching. It has a Starfleet signature, and has been identified by our historical database as the Enterprise NX-01."

Ramelow's eyes widened.

"Lieutenant, why are they only on short range sensors?"

"The long range sensor array is still damaged, and the coverage is less than perfect. The Enterprise will have us on their sensors, and they'll be here in four minutes."

Ramelow looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"Why would Atchison send us back to the day the Enterprise discovered Darsellia XII?", he asked quietly. "If he's Starfleet, he should know that it would jeopardise the mission."

He looked to Davies.

"If you want a chance at your career, Lieutenant-Commander", he said, "you'll listen to me. Garrick will take over from you in Main Engineering. Right now, I want you to comb the databanks. Find anything you can about the Enterprise and Darsellia XII. Coleman told me not to trust Atchison, and I'm wondering if he's not correct."

Davies cracked a wry grin. Ramelow did not.

"Look, Henry, I'm giving you the opportunity to prove that I'm wrong. Now hop to it!"

Ramelow almost sprinted out of the ready room to get to the bridge.

* * * * *

"Report", he called as he entered the command centre of the starship Mariner. Lane gazed up.

"The Enterprise is hailing us. They want to know why are weapons are trained on a defenceless civilian population, and they also want to know how we can possibly be a Starfleet ship."

"You haven't answered, have you?", Ramelow queried.

"No sir", Lane replied emphatically. "That would be a breach of the Temporal Prime Directive."

"They have powered their weapons and are targeting our weapons systems", Tasek warned.

Ramelow grimaced.

"Not nearly as much of a breach of it if they fire on a vessel from the future", he pointed out. "Open a channel."

Lane stalled for a second, then pressed her panel.

The screen suddenly showed a face that Ramelow had seen on the walls of Starfleet Command and Starfleet Academy many times. The bridge staff stared in awe, as the visage of Captain Jonathan Archer appeared on screen.

Ramelow did not hesitate.

"Captain Archer, my name is Jakob Ramelow, and I am the First Officer and acting captain of the Starfleet vessel Mariner", he announced.

Archer seemed to gaze around his bridge, gauging the reaction of his crew.

"And there I was thinking I'd have to introduce myself", he said at last, with laughter in his voice, though Ramelow could guess that he was nervous.

"Captain", he said. "We're from what you would call the future. I'd like to discuss our situation with you, but I would ask that we do so on your ship."

"Why not yours?", Archer countered. Ramelow coughed, smiled and shook his head.

"I'm afraid, sir, that the Temporal Prime Directive won't allow that."

CHAPTER THREE

Not for the first time, Jakob Ramelow wished the captain were conscious and still in command.

Doctor Taryll had told him that Anthony would eventually recover, but the concussion he had received from the Hawking's pulses was extensive.

That's the difficult thing about concussion, the CMO had said. It can leave the patient with a mild headache, or it can leave them in a coma.

Ramelow guessed that the captain would have loved to have been where he was now; it wasn't every day that one could gaze around the bridge of the NX-01 while the original crew worked at their stations. Ramelow was immediately attracted to the comm. officer, Hoshi Sato, whom he found very pleasing to the eye. He kept having to remind himself that Sato was long dead by his standards. While Archer's crew tried to keep their professional air, the commander noticed with mild amusement that his entourage of Patrick Coleman and Lon Tanier were given sideways glances almost every second.

With one final look at the attractive Ensign Sato, Ramelow exited the bridge, and entered Archer's ready room.

Captain Jonathan Archer met the Mariner crew with a handshake and a stern expression.

"We're not always that happy to meet people from the future", he explained, offering each of them iced tea. "It's caused Enterprise and Earth a few problems over the past few years."

Ramelow vaguely remembered the old stories about how one of the crewmen on the NX-01 had actually been from the future, and how the Enterprise had been part of a war that hadn't even happened yet, but he had always dismissed them as Academy myth, rather like the ghost stories told on survival camps. For the first time, he wondered if there was any truth to those legends.

"We're not particularly thrilled either, Captain", he replied. "So far, our only encounter with time travel has resulted in us being dragooned into this mission."

"If I may, Commander", Coleman interrupted, with a light note in his tone to try to alleviate the tension. "Technically speaking, that's true, but don't forget that I'm a relic of the past."

"And you are?", Archer asked.

"Doctor Patrick Coleman."

Archer stared.

"The Mathematical Singularity Doctrine creator?"

"The same", Coleman replied, suddenly wishing he hadn't opened his mouth. "Please, Captain, could you keep it quiet, though. Apparently, I'm supposed to be dead in 2154."

Archer opened his hands.

"Right", he said, though it seemed clear that he did not understand. He gestured for them to take seats. "So, you're all human. Good to see we're still out there in...when are you from?"

"The Twenty-Fourth Century", Tanier answered, "and I'm not human, sir."

Archer frowned.

"What are you?"

Tanier tried to find a good answer.

"A member of a species humanity won't meet for a while", he replied eventually.

Archer took this in. Then, he took a deep breath.

"May I ask what you're doing in the Twenty-Second Century?"

Ramelow had been thinking about how to answer this inevitable question without breaking the Temporal Prime Directive. He had finally decided on telling Archer everything, from the encounter with the temporal bubble in the Beta 489 system, through to the mission as given them by Atchison. When he had finished recounting this, Archer was ashen.

"Let me get this straight: you're going to destroy the Darsellians because you think they'll destroy you in the future? You guys sound like the Xindi!"

"We have...um...reservations about our mission", Coleman said. "That's why we haven't yet fired. We could have already destroyed them, but we haven't."

He deliberately did not mention Davies' sabotage of the quantum torpedoes. Archer didn't need to know.

"I guess the problem is, if you don't kill them all, this Atchison fella won't send you back to your time", the Enterprise skipper noted. It was not the first time Ramelow had considered this.

The comm. panel beeped.

"Captain, we're receiving a transmission from the Mariner for Commander Ramelow", Hoshi reported. Archer pressed the transmit button.

"We'll take it in here, Hoshi", he commanded. There was a tone, and then the South African accent of Henry Davies blared over the communication system.

"Commander, the historical database reports that the Enterprise entered the Darsel system on October 21, 2154", he said.

"That's today", confirmed Archer.

Davies hadn't finished.

"However, the next report wasn't delivered until Enterprise had left the system four days later. It says that Enterprise discovered the Darsellians, and it gives basic reviews of the planet. A Vulcan probe which followed up this discovery confirmed that Darsellia XII was very much alive as far as three years later."

"What happened to the days in between Enterprise arriving and leaving?", enquired Ramelow.

He swore he could hear the triumphant note in Davies' tone.

"They're in the database, but they've been sealed."

"What? On what authority."

There was a dramatic pause.

"Special Order One", Davies finally divulged.

Ramelow looked at his companions.

"The Temporal Prime Directive."

Archer looked confused.

"What does this mean?", he asked.

"It means that Mariner does not destroy the Darsellians", he replied. "If we did, you would have reported a dead world, and so would the Vulcan probe.

"The only reason for documents to be sealed by Special Order One is if there was some kind of temporal occurrence, one which would alter history. Already, we've contaminated the timeline by allowing ourselves to be detected by you, but Atchison should have known that. He claims to be part of Starfleet's elite temporal fleet, so he would know how to create a minimal-contact temporal incursion.

"The only reason he would send us to the exact time we would do the most damage to the timeline is if he's not Starfleet. I have a feeling that we should not destroy the Darsellians."

At that moment, Tasek burst over the still-open comm. channel.

"Captain Ramelow", he deadpanned, "there is a temporal disturbance forming, approximately two million kilometres away. It is of the same variety as that we encountered in the Beta Four-Eight-Nine system."

Ramelow and Archer looked at each other.

"Let's get to the bridge", Archer suggested.

* * * * *

The four officers walked on to the bridge of the NX-class starship, to view an awesome sight. The USS Mariner was suspended to the right of the screen, hovering above the breathtaking planetary views. To the left, however, bright orange wisps were coalescing into a spherical object. Ramelow had the sense of d‚j… vu, except for the fact that the sphere did not move. Instead, it hung motionless in space.

Coleman pointed at the temporal anomaly.

"Commander, do you see those flashes?"

Ramelow squinted. Sure enough, there were pulsations emanating from inside the huge ball of energy.

"What do you reckon it is?", Ramelow asked, to no one in particular. He was heard by T'Pol, the Vulcan science officer of the Enterpise, who consulted her station.

"The pulses appear to be blasts of highly concentrated phased energy and gamma particles", she reported after a brief lapse.

Ramelow looked at Tanier, who said exactly what he was thinking.

"Weapons fire."

The clouds suddenly seemed to part, and the bridge staff of the first human warp five-capable ship stared in astonishment as the timeship Hawking burst from the sphere. A moment later, a smaller ship cut through the energy, chasing Atchison's fleeing vessel. The pursuing craft was tiny, no bigger than one of Mariner's shuttles, but the plasma fire trailing behind the Hawking indicated that she was a powerful ship.

Abruptly, the Hawking's stern seemed to explode in a dazzling display of pyrotechnics. Ramelow thought for an instant that Atchison and his ship had been destroyed, but then Hawking changed course, and the small ship behind was buffeted by a powerful shockwave.

Ramelow clicked the commbadge.

"Ramelow to Mariner. Report."

Tasek replied.

"It appears the pursuing vessel has been damaged by a temporal shockwave", the Vulcan replied. "It is losing headway."

Ramelow nodded.

"Have we identified the other ship?"

"No, sir. It does, however, have a Starfleet signature."

Tanier laughed.

"So does the Hawking, Tasek."

"That is indeed true", the tactical officer replied. "However, I..."

He trailed off. Tanier looked at Ramelow.

"Tasek?"

"Standby, away team", the Vulcan answered.

Several seconds passed. Ramelow could see that the Enterprise crew was nervous, as was he, but he knew that they had more reason to be. This situation would not have been in the Starfleet operating manual, circa 2154.

Particularly fidgety was the officer with the dark hair closest to the screen on the right hand side of the bridge. Ramelow guessed from what he could see on the monitors near that station that it was the tactical console. He thought hard, wracking his brains for the Enterprise armoury officer's name. Something told him that he should know his name, but it didn't come to him.

The comm. crackled, and thankfully, Tasek returned.

"Commander, the smaller vessel has hailed us. It is a single-man timeship under the command of Captain Ducane. He reports that his propulsion system is out of action.

"He claims that 'Captain' Atchison is actually a terrorist wanted for crimes against the Federation. Atchison and his gang apparently hijacked the Hawking, with the objective of destroying the Federation's history, but Starfleet inflicted some damage before he could travel back in time to do so. Captain Ducane is requesting our assistance in capturing or destroying the Hawking."

Ramelow ushered to his two colleagues, as well as Captain Archer. Yet again, he wished he didn't have to make the tough decision.

At least Captain Archer's here, he thought. That way, I've also got the help of a command officer.

"I need ideas, people", Ramelow said.

Coleman rubbed his trim beard.

"I say we help Ducane", he affirmed. "There are too many questions behind Atchison and his motives for us to believe him."

"I wish you'd told me that when I decided to fire", Ramelow replied sarcastically. Coleman shrugged.

"I was guessing back then."

"The problem we have is how to attack them", Tanier reminded them. "Since Henry damaged our Forward Torpedo Bay, we can only use aft torpedoes and phasers."

"Enterprise can lend a hand", Archer offered, but Ramelow shook his head.

"No. We can't afford for Enterprise to fire anything. It might alter the timeline if, for example, you fire some torpedoes and then find yourselves caught short next time you're in combat."

"Commander Ramelow, you neglected to close the comm. channel, and I was monitoring your conversation", Tasek unexpectedly interjected. "A peculiarity I have noticed is that the Hawking has temporal shielding, which protected it from the weapons used by the smaller vessel. This shielding would also protect it from our torpedoes and phasers. However, I believe that it is vulnerable to our transporter technology."

Ramelow grinned widely.

"Perfect. Tasek, prepare a security team to board the Hawking. Lieutenant-Commander Davies can lead it."

There was a pause on the other end of the channel. Then Tasek's inevitable objection broke over the commbadge.

"Captain, do you believe that is wise? He did, after all, sabotage the ship."

"Only to stop us from destroying the Darsellians, Tasek."

There was a click.

"If that was his justification, then he would be especially eager to lead the team now", Tasek broadcasted.

Ramelow took a breath. That last comment did not sound good.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The Hawking is generating a temporal energy wave", the tactical officer explained. "It seems to be aimed at the planet. My calculations suggest it will require another four minutes of energy before it has sufficient power to reach the surface. Once there, I believe it will destabilise the planet's mantle."

Archer started.

"That sounds pretty major", he said.

"It is", Coleman agreed. "If the mantle is destabilised, it could destroy the entire planet."

"Understood", Ramelow answered Tasek "Prepare to send that security team over."

"Sir."

The Enterprise armoury officer called from his station.

"I request permission to take a security detail of my own over to the timeship", he reported in an English accent that reminded Ramelow of Anthony's. "It sounds like you could do with some help."

"Out of the question", Ramelow responded quickly. "I can't take the chance of you or one of your team getting killed. Besides, you'll see Twenty-Ninth Century technology, and that will contaminate the timeline."

"With all due respect, Commander", the officer shot back, "so will your team, and Twenty-Ninth Century technology is still more advanced than your own. Besides, the Enterprise is involved, whether you like it or not."

Ramelow considered this for a moment. Just as he was about to answer, he remembered why he should remember the armoury officer's name. It was, after all, the moniker given to the Mariner captain's yacht.

"Very well, Mr Reed", he said at last. "Mr Tasek, you will also beam a security team from the Enterprise to the Hawking."

He turned to Malcolm Reed.

"Get your team ready, Lieutenant."

* * * * *

On the Mariner, the four members of the security away team were assembling in Transporter Room Two. Most of them were veterans of both the Dominion War and the Battle for Bajor, and were by no means unaccustomed to hand-to-hand fighting. Each of them was brandishing a phaser compression rifle, and most also had a hand phaser clipped to their belt.

The door to the transporter room swished open, and Lieutenant-Commander Henry Davies strode in, a phaser rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Okay folks, listen up", he called, and all of the defence personnel immediately snapped to attention. Davies grinned.

"Our objective", he informed them, "is to get to the engine room of the timeship Hawking and shut down their temporal drive. We'll have less than three minutes to get there, so I suggest we split up to get there."

"What kind of opposition are we expecting?", one of the officers, a Bolian, asked.

"We're not sure", Davies admitted. "We do know that there are fifty-seven people on board, and though we don't know whether they're all armed, you should probably aim to stun anyone you come across."

"What about the layout of the ship?" This question came from Crewman V'Nushku, one of the most experienced enlisted crewmembers on the ship. She had proven herself invaluable in the past.

"That's another thing we're not certain of. We'll have to play it by ear.

"One last thing. A security detail of three men will be beaming over from Enterprise. Watch out for them, and for Christ's sake, don't shoot them."

He walked to the transporter, and stood up on the front pad.

"Take your positions."

* * * * *

Lon Tanier had been agitated ever since Tasek had called less than a minute ago. Now he turned to his acting captain.

"Sir, if Mariner's going into combat, I would prefer it if I were at the helm", he confided. Ramelow smiled knowingly.

"Very well."

He clicked his commbadge.

"Ramelow to Mariner, Transporter Room One. Three to beam to the bridge."

He surveyed the bridge of the NX-01 for the last time.

"Energise."

* * * * *

V'Nushku stepped up onto her pad on the transporter. Once there, Davies nodded to the transporter chief.

"Energise."

* * * * *

Malcolm Reed was checking the charge on his phase pistol when the comm. chirped. He pressed the small button.

"Mr Reed, this is Lieutenant-Commander Tasek of the Mariner. Is your team ready to board the timeship?"

Reed made a quick final check of everyone's equipment. Then, he signalled Tasek.

"We're ready."

"We will transport you to the Hawking at your command", Tasek informed him.

Reed nodded.

"Understood, Lieutenant-Commander."

He held up his phase pistol in the ready position.

"Energise."

CHAPTER FOUR

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed materialised in an empty corridor, lit with an eerie red glow. He turned around to make sure that his fellow Enterprise security officers had also survived their molecules being compressed into a data stream. Satisfied, he pointed to a door off to the right.

"Faulkner, check that out. Maslow, have a look round the hallway behind us", he ordered, thumbing to the rear of him, down the corridor. "I'll go ahead. Move."

As his subordinates peeled off, Reed crept ahead cautiously, phase pistol at the ready. He glanced round the corner of the corridor. He caught his breath.

A large man, pale but with dark ridges cascading down his cheeks, and his hair long and unkempt, was tapping at a wall-mounted computer console. He had what looked like a weapon held close to his chest.

Certain he hadn't been seen by the alien, Reed sidestepped out from behind the wall, his firearm levelled, as quietly as the vacuum of space itself. Without giving the being any warning, he fired. The beam caught the Hawking crewman against the neck, temporarily depriving his brain of oxygen. Consequently, the alien slumped to the deck, unconscious.

Reed stalked over to where the cataleptic body lay, and while one eye gazed further down the corridor, the other assessed the workstation. He cracked a smile, thanking the guardian angel of armoury officers, who was obviously smiling over him today. There, on the screen, was a computerised layout of the ship.

He flipped open his communicator.

"Reed to Enterprise", he whispered. "Contact the Mariner and let them know that I've located Main Engineering. It's on Deck Six, sections fourteen to twenty-five."

His guarding eye caught sight of a door at the end of the hall. He flicked closed his communicator, and stealthily made his way to terminus. The placard on the access told him that he really had struck it lucky today.

It read: TURBOLIFT TWO.

As he approached, the doors opened automatically, and he stepped inside.

He searched the walls, but could find no control panel. He sighed.

"I wonder what one needs to do to get to Engineering", he murmured.

Unexpectedly, there came a metallic bleep though hidden speakers, which startled Reed.

"Unable to comply", the flat male voice droned. "Please restate command."

Reed furrowed his brow.

"Er...I'd like to go to Main Engineering."

The doors abruptly closed, and immediately, the turbolift began to move.

Reed leaned back, flashing his teeth in a broad grin. Then, he laughed, wondering whether the Mariner security team had been blessed with such luck.

* * * * *

The desktop computer exploded as the energy bolt blasted against it. Hot shards of the polymer composite showered across the room, landing close to V'Nushku and Xavier as they ducked for cover. They had arrived in what appeared to be the mess hall, but a volley of plasma weaponry met them upon their entrance. V'Nushku had been lucky to spot the large weapon as it had been levelled at them, and so had the young human, David Xavier. Both security officers had flung themselves behind the walls on either side of the open entrance, just in time. V'Nushku checked the chronometer built into the sight on her compression rifle.

"Xavi, we've only got a minute and a half to get to Engineering", she whispered.

"I know, I know", he replied. "It'd help if we knew where it was."

At that moment, V'Nushku's phaser sounded a quiet tone. She read the text message flashed on to the sight from the bridge of the Mariner. With a half-smile, she looked back to Xavier.

"I know where it is now", she proclaimed. "Chuck a photon grenade in there, and let's get to the nearest turbolift of Jeffries tube."

Instead of standing and flinging the explosive device into the room, which would expose him to enemy fire, Xavier instead paddled it into the open. It exploded, too far from the defenders to injure them, but close enough to disorientate them. V'Nushku and Xavier did not waste the opportunity. They leapt from their positions and sprinted back down the corridor.

* * * * *

The turbolift doors hissed open. At first there was no movement from the transportation device. Then, Lieutenant Reed somersaulted out, finding cover behind a bank of computers. He was followed by a salvo of high-energy plasma blasts, as the Hawking defenders tried to blow him into oblivion. They were too slow.

Reed had never been in the engine room of a time-travelling ship from seven centuries into the future. He made an educated guess, though, that the pulsating dome in the centre of Main Engineering, bearing notices warning of concentrated temporal energy, was likely to be the Hawking's temporal core.

He checked his watch; as a general rule, he always wore his great-grandfather's Royal Navy chronometer on away missions. It had always been exactly on time.

He noted with disquiet that he had less than fifty seconds to disable the core.

* * * * *

Lieutenant-Commander Henry Davies was lost.

He had found a turbolift, but it had been heavily guarded, and he had been driven away by the guards' powerful weapons. He had taken refuge in a Jeffries tube, but the sentries had pursued him, so he went in the opposite direction they expected: up.

He could see an exit ahead of him and, pushing his phaser rifle in front of himself, he arrived at the small hatch. It whirred open and he edged out of the tube.

A booted foot lashed out at the rifle, kicking it away from his grasp. The next thing he knew, he was being lifted out of the tube by his shoulders. He struggled, but ceased when he felt a weapon being pressed to his head. He looked into the face of his captor.

Paul Atchison sneered.

"I've tried with your crew twice now", he spat. "It's time to wipe out the Darsellians by myself."

Davies frowned.

"What do you mean, you've used us twice?"

Atchison smirked superiorly, a trait that instantly annoyed Davies.

"You've been pulled back to 2154 before, Lieutenant-Commander", he said. "I took your captain hostage to get Commander Ramelow to fire on the Darsellians. That time, he refused, but instead of killing Anthony, I instead returned him to your ship, and then returned you to your timeline, before we had taken you back in time. You wouldn't remember anything."

He paused.

"Unfortunately, this time around, I had a brainwave. It would be better to disrupt Starfleet's future if you not only destroyed the Darsellians, but you interacted with the Enterprise as well. That was a mistake, because I must have forgotten to erase your databanks, purge them of the NX-01's mission reports from this time. The answer was handed to you on a platter; you knew that you had been back here, because those logs were sealed by your almighty Temporal Prime Directive. That information told you what you did, what you would do.

"I also didn't count on Starfleet twigging as well. Ducane and his bloody ship came after me. Still, at least I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that the Darsellians will be dead. The Federation's future is doomed."

* * * * *

V'Nushku and Xavier scurried behind the computers opposite Reed's hiding spot before the defenders could open fire; the Englishman was impressed. Evidently, Starfleet training was good in the Twenty-Fourth Century.

V'Nushku made some hand gestures to Reed, and he nodded his understanding. They only had another twenty seconds to save the Darsellians. Time was slipping away; they had to act now, or lose.

Xavier removed another photon grenade from his belt and armed it. Reed counted down with his fingers for the moment when the Mariner crewman would throw the bomb.

With thirteen seconds left, Xavier popped up over the computers for a fraction of a second. The Hawking crew fired, but they were late, and missed his hand by a microsecond.

Less than a second after that, the engine room shook as the grenade exploded. Reed gave the thumbs-up, and all three of the security officers jumped from their crouching positions, Reed firing his phase pistol, V'Nushku and Xavier blasting at the last positions of the defenders with their compression rifles.

When no one fired back, Reed jumped down from the raised platform, running to the temporal core's controls as quickly as his legs would allow. He drew up in front of the console as V'Nushku gave him a warning.

"Seven seconds!"

Reed typed on the screen, trying to override the controls. He was unfamiliar with them, though, and nothing he did seemed to have any effect.

"It's not working", he shouted.

V'Nushku levelled her rifle at him.

"Stand clear", she demanded. Reed jumped back, and the Denmaran depressed the trigger. A phaser bolt shot from the muzzle, colliding with the panel in a burst of sparks and flames. The brilliantly-lit core flickered.

"Temporal core failure", reported the flat computer voice.

Reed, more than a bit shell-shocked from almost being blown away by the Mariner crewman, shook his head.

"With two seconds to go", he said with astonishment. "Good work."

* * * * *

The message was played through the bridge speakers as well. The unexpected announcement diverted Atchison's attention for just a moment, but it was long enough for Davies. His left heel dug into the Australian's shin, and Atchison howled in agony, releasing him. The Mariner chief engineer dived to the deck, scrambling for his rifle. Cringing, Atchison brought up his weapon, just as Davies turned, his phaser aiming at the renegade captain.

For a few moments, time seemed to stand still. The two men, one standing, one sprawled on the deck, seemed frozen in a dramatic tableau. Then Atchison's gaze hardened. Davies rolled away, firing two shots, just as Atchison's phaser beam struck the deck where he had been lying. Davies expected more, but no fire was forthcoming. He peered across to where Atchison had been.

The Australian was lying on the deck, his weapon beside him, his arm outstretched, his eyes open with the unseeing stare of the dead.

The two phaser bolts, both on stun power, had managed to kill Paul Atchison.

* * * * *

Acting Captain's Log, Supplemental
Following the joint operation with the Enterprise and Captain Ducane's vessel, the Millennium, we have discovered that some forty of the biosigns we detected were, in actual fact, the real crew of the Hawking. It turns out that Atchison, rather than being the captain of the Hawking, had hijacked the ship as part of a terrorist plot to destroy the Federation in the past. Of course, Ducane is unwilling to tell us who is plotting against the Federation or what role the Darsellians will play in the future ("Sorry, Commander, but I can't tell you: Temporal Prime Directive"), and we've been criticised by him for our extensive interaction with the Enterprise crew (especially allowing Lieutenant Reed and his security team to accompany us), but all on all, Ducane is not unhappy with our lack of timeline contamination.
The Millennium is going to tow the Hawking back into the Twenty-Ninth Century, and the Hawking crew have put Atchison's gang under lock and key. All that remains is for us to be sent back to our own time. Well, almost all...

"Captain."

Jonathan Archer turned in his chair in the NX-01 ready room. He hadn't noticed the door open. Normally, he would be irked by the unannounced intrusion. He made an exception in this case.

"Commander Ramelow", he greeted warmly, rising to shake his hand. "Nice to see you again."

Ramelow shrugged.

"The last time, unfortunately. Before I leave, however, there's a favour I want to ask of you.

"My captain is lying in sickbay unconscious at the moment. He's an historian, as well as a great fan of the Enterprise and her crew. I was wondering..."

Archer cut him off.

"I get the picture, Commander. I'll see what I can do."

* * * * *

The Mariner gently glided to a position abreast of the Millennium and the Hawking. The storm-like clouds-I hope we never see them again, thought Ramelow silently-opened up in front of the three ships. Then, they were swallowed, leaving the starship Enterprise hovering gracefully above Darsellia XII.

EPILOGUE

Captain Simon Anthony sat on the biobed in sickbay, listening intently while Jakob Ramelow recounted the events since the captain had been knocked unconscious. He nodded gravely when told of Henry Davies' interference with the Forward Torpedo Bay, and later, of the boarding of the timeship Hawking, and he was a sympathetic ear to Ramelow when the First Officer reminisced about his plight of morality versus the Temporal Prime Directive.

"You realise I have to report this all to Starfleet Command?", he said once Ramelow had concluded.

"I do, sir", he answered. "I also realise that Henry will probably face trial for sabotage once we get back to Earth."

Anthony grimaced.

"I don't condone what Henry did", he groaned. "Sabotage, whatever the reason, is a pretty big step. But I suppose no harm came from it. They'll probably demote him back to lieutenant, and that will be the end of it."

Ramelow reached behind his back.

"Before I leave you to make your report, sir", he said, "I've got a present for you from the past. I thought you might like it."

His hand returned from behind his back, revealing a large bound volume. Anthony took it from him with reverence; books were becoming a rare commodity in 2378.

He gazed in wonderment at the cover, which bore the old Starfleet logo of a crescent with a star and the familiar "speedbird"-style design.

ENTERPRISE NX-01
16 APRIL 2151
COMMEMORATIVE LAUNCHING EDITION-SHIP'S MANIFEST AND SCHEMATICS

The book had been published by Starfleet to commemorate the launching of Earth's first warp five-capable starship. It had been very limited in run; as far as Anthony new, there were only two copies still in mint condition, one of which was at Starfleet Academy.

He flicked through the pages, and found with unbridled joy that, alongside their names in the manifest, each member of the NX-01 crew had signed their name.

"I'll leave you to your report, sir", Ramelow said quietly as he exited sickbay.

* * * * *

Anthony had finished dictating his message for Starfleet Command to the computer. Due to the sensitive temporal nature of the events noted, the computer converted the speech into text, which was then beamed to Earth. Anthony expected a response, also in text.

He was sipping a cup of Irish Breakfast tea when the reply came. The computer beeped, and he turned the monitor towards himself in order to read it.

By the time he had finished reading, he had lost all interest in his tea. He tapped the comm. panel.

"Could Lieutenant-Commanders Tasek and Davies, and Commander Ramelow report to the ready room?", he requested over the open intraship channel. His voice sounded shaky to him, but he could understand that.

* * * * *

A few moments later, the three officers entered the ready room. Anthony cut straight to the chase.

"I have received a reply from Starfleet Command", he explained, "and I have been ordered to do this. I'm sorry.

"Lieutenant-Commander Henry Francis Davies, you are hereby charged with one count of sabotage on board a Federation starship and one count of treason."

Davies was shocked, and so was Ramelow. Both had expected Davies to be charged with sabotage, but the treason charge was a blow to all of them.

Anthony hadn't finished.

"Commander Jakob Christian Ramelow, you are hereby charged with one count of attempted genocide."

Ramelow almost doubled up in physical agony. The very idea that he, of all people, would face a court-martial, made him ill to the stomach. Even worse, he realised, was that the charge was more or less accurate.

Anthony looked on both of his senior officers with genuine sadness and sympathy. Then he addressed Tasek.

"I am under orders to remand both Lieutenant-Commander Davies and Commander Ramelow into custody. Lieutenant-Commander Tasek, please escort them to the brig."

The three officers departed, leaving Anthony's once-jovial mood all but destroyed. As he spun around in his chair, however, he made a pact with himself.

He would fight for his crew.