Space, the Final Frontier…

These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise...

Its continuing mission:

To explore strange new worlds...

To seek out new life, and new civilisations...

To boldy go where no one has gone before!

 Stardate 47995.356.10 – Programme Day Nine

   “Pass the oat milk, would you?”

I happily passed Ewan the oat milk, and resumed choking down the oatmeal. It was going to be another one of those days, it seemed. Everyone, even the sponsors, were gathered around the dining table eating breakfast. It was weird though, no one seemed to be speaking to each other, as if they knew something was about to happen. I turned to Ewan, the sole person who has spoke so far, intending to ask him what was wrong with everyone this morning. He wasn’t there. In fact, it seemed everyone at the table had disappeared like they were never there.

   “The fuck?” I said, standing up. As I did so, the room disappeared around me. I was now standing in a large cubic room, with black walls inset with yellow grid lines. A silver archway with a pair of metal sliding doors was set into the wall in front of me. Now, unless my oatmeal had some sort of hallucinogen in it, or I was suffering from a mental break…I was on the fucking holodeck.

   WHAT.

   I looked down to find my clothes from earlier- a hoodie over a plain grey tracksuit- had disappeared, replaced by a red and black Starfleet uniform, of the mid-24^th century variety. Inspecting my shoulder, I found the two solid pips of a lieutenant. What the fuck? Had…had Dorley been a holodeck simulation the entire time? Why would I do that to myself?

   In fact, who the fuck was I? I had no memory of being anyone other that Alan Malloy, a very ordinary nerd from the 21^st century, whose only experience with anything related to Star Trek was a sci-fi television franchise which was meant to be fictional.

   Fuck, what sort of drugs did the sponsors slip me? Just as I was beginning to think about leaving, the doors over at the archway began to slide open with a whir. I panicked, looking for somewhere to hide. But, before I could find some way to hide in an otherwise empty room, in walked none other than Captain Jean Luc Picard. And he looked worried.

   “Lieutenant Malloy, it’s good to see you’re in good health. Chief Engineer La Forge just managed to get the holodeck malfunction resolved. I was on-hand to debrief you. We've been worried, you’ve been in there for two whole days. Are you alright?”

   “Uh…Captain Picard?” I said, nervously. “Where am I? What’s going on?”

   “Lieutenant?” asked my hero and idol, looking concerned. “You’re aboard the Enterprise. In Holodeck Two. Your historical simulation that you were running for entertainment malfunctioned and you became stuck. I can hardly have my helm officer out of action when we’re about to confront a previously unknown species in a potentially hostile engagement.”

   “Which Enterprise?” I asked, stumbling back. “What’s the Stardate? What hostile species? Who am I?”

   “…Lieutenant? There is only one Enterprise. It’s Stardate 47995.356.10. Are you telling me you have no memory of where you are, or who you are?”

   “…before Generations,” I whispered to myself. I straightened up. “I apologise, Captain, but I appear to have lost my memory. As far as I know, I’m Alan Malloy, a university student within the…uh…simulation.”

   “Damn,” cursed Picard, tapping his comm badge. “Doctor Crusher, I’m escorting Lieutenant Malloy to sickbay. He appears to be suffering from some sort of amnesia. Please inform the bridge to reduce warp velocity to warp two until further notice. We’ll need some extra time to sort this out before we go into a conflict zone.”

   “Sir, what’s going on?” I asked. “Are we about to go into battle?”

   “I’ll explain on the way to sickbay. Dr. Crusher needs to clear you for duty, and this...amnesia...could prove to be a major issue, given our staffing issues,” replied Picard, striding away and off the holodeck. “But there's no time to explain here. Please come with me, Lieutenant. I’ll see if I can explain who you are meant to be on the way to sickbay. Dr. Crusher will sort you out.”

   “So, you’re telling me my name is actually Aaron Malloy, and I’m a Starfleet Officer who’s been serving with you for the last six months while Commander Data is on detachment to Starfleet Academy to teach new cadets,” I said, walking besides Picard. He had just told me everything I had apparently forgotten, as we walked through deck 11 of the USS Enterprise NCC-1701-D. “Our mission is to investigate a series of attacks in the vicinity of the Delphic Expanse by a hitherto unencountered race of warp-capable aliens who are presently unidentified, who appear to have weapons technology beyond that of the Federation. To this end, the Enterprise is part of a joint operation with the USS Marie Curie, a Miranda-class starship.”

   “Yes, quite the fleet operation,” replied Picard. “The Marie Curie is forty years old, but she’s a fine ship with a fine crew. She’s a survivor.”

   “Right. So…why do I remember absolutely nothing? All I know is presumably what the character I was playing in that simulation did.”

   I didn’t mention that this knowledge extended to events which hadn’t actually happened yet. Well, assuming that the TNG movies, Voyager, and seasons 3-7 of Deep Space Nine weren’t just delusions brought on by whatever the Holodeck had done to me. Eventually, we reached a turbolift, and stepped in. Picard cleared his throat as the door slid shut.

   “Deck 2, Sickbay.”

   The turbolift began to move upwards, the motion barely perceptible. Was…was this really happening? Had Dorley just been some sort of holodeck malfunction? I suddenly felt a wave of relief wash over me. All of that torment, all of that bullshit with Steph and Christine…it had just been a simulation gone wrong! I was safe in the 24^th century, I was apparently a Starfleet officer- something I could have only dreamed of while playing that dumb nerdy university student from the distant past- and I was serving under Captain Jean Luc Picard. This was everything I ever wanted!

   “Sickbay is just down this corridor. Dr. Crusher will figure this out, Lieutenant, don’t you worry.”

 I followed Picard down the beige corridors of the Enterprise, feeling like something was wrong about this. Picard should be on the bridge, not rescuing his helmsman from the holodeck. I should have been following Riker, or Geordi; not the captain of the ship. Also, something about what Picard had said was off. Something about a conversation I’d had with Ewan in the rec…with the NPC called Ewan in the simulation.

   “Sir, why were you down there to greet me at Holodeck Two? Shouldn’t Commander Riker or an engineering team been there to get me out?”

   “We’re about to go into a dangerous area of space, Lieutenant,” Picard responded. “A Captain cannot allocate resources that are in use when we’re expecting a fight. And a Captain must be willing to perform the same duties as those under him. Important lessons to keep in mind, young man.”

   That sounded…plausible. Something was still off though. We’d walked through half the ship, and I hadn’t seen a single crewmember. Maybe they were at their stations? Something felt wrong.

   “Where are all the crew?”

   “Mostly on shore leave. We departed Risa in a hurry, and didn’t have time to bring everyone back on board. You really did lose your memories, Malloy, didn’t you?”

   “I…uh…yeah?”

   “Hmm. You seem to remember some things. Like whom I am. Maybe the simulation supressed your memories in a way that is still recoverable. Dr. Crusher will know more, let’s get inside sickbay and get you examined.”

   “Well, as far as I can tell, there’s no neurological damage.”

Dr. Crusher waved the sensor module of her medical tricorder around my skull as I sat uncomfortably on the surgical table of the Enterprise’s main sickbay. It was just like on the show…I mean, just like I…uh…I’d figure out what was going on with that, I hoped. Christ, this better not be some sort of dream. If it was, I never wanted to wake up.

   “The Lieutenant remembered some things. My name, the name of the ship, the names of the senior staff…is it possible his training, the skills I need from my primary helmsman, remain intact, even if he can’t access them consciously?”

   Dr. Crusher pursed her lips, and frowned. “Well, I’m not a specialist in retrograde amnesia. I’m not even sure what caused the Holodeck to do this, but I’m sure we’ll be able to figure this out after we finish with whatever we find at DRL-3-0451. But, if I had to make a guess, I’d say his muscle memory will allow him to fulfill his duties. Most of the standard operational skills related to manning a console are retrieved without conscious thought and processed through the motor cortex anyway, even when an officer is being asked to perform complex helm manoeuvres. As the captain, all you should need to do is tell him to execute a course input, and he should be able to perform his duties to the extent required. Besides, we may be able to diplomatically resolve this yet.”

   “Agreed. Doctor, are you clearing my helmsman for duty?”

Crusher frowned again. “Normally, I wouldn’t clear him for duty without a full day of observation and a level-two psych assessment from the ship’s psychologist. But, given our staffing issues and the situation we’re headed into, I don’t have any other option. Yes, Lieutenant Malloy is officially cleared for duty as of 0930 Ship Time.”

   “Excellent. Doctor, if you could-“

“Riker to Picard.”

   Picard tapped his commbadge. “Go ahead, number one.”

“We’re approaching the destination system. ETA, ten minutes. However, we’re picking up a distress signal from a Ferengi merchant vessel. They claim they’re under attack by an unknown enemy. They’re not going to last much longer.”

   “Acknowledged. Go to red alert, maximum warp. I’m on my way to the bridge with our wayward helmsman. Picard out.”

   The lights inset into the walls began blinking red as the red alert siren began to blare throughout the ship. Picard waved me to fall in with him as we moved at a brisk pace to the turbolift.

   “Deck One,” Picard ordered to the lift, and then he turned to me. “Lieutenant, I know you’re still confused, but I need my helmsman to do his job. It looks like we may be going into a difficult engagement. Assume the helm, get us through whatever happens.”

   “Aye, sir,” I said, anxiously. “I’ll…do my best, Captain.”

   “Good man,” said Picard, smiling in a fatherly way. The doors swished open, and we both stepped out onto the bridge. I nervously walked over to the helm station, and swung the console up so I could sit down in the padded chair. Riker nodded at me as I passed, and all I could do was a weak little wave. I stared at the array of touchscreen icons before me, all labelled with numerical codes, and which I had no fucking clue how to operate. Picard took up his seat, and sat in a commanding pose. Riker sat to his side, and Troi on the other. Worf was absent, presumably now on Deep Space Nine at this point in time. The other two officers, the navigation officer and the tactical officer, were people I vaguely recognised, but who weren’t from the show. I knew them from somewhere…but where had I seen these two women before? One was an Indian lady, and the other was a pretty redhead…

   …Oh. They must be the people I…uh…Aaron Malloy…used to create templates for Steph and Indira. Christ, did I seriously pull a Barclay? Use my colleagues and superior officers as templates for my holodeck fantasies? Was Dorley the fantasy I had put together to satisfy some sort of weird sex fantasy, or was it the mysterious holodeck malfunction that had put the whole thing together? I was again reminded that the rule of thumb on TNG was that if an episode was centred around the Holodeck, something was going wrong with the Holodeck. It was surprising people kept using the damn thing with the number of times a system error caused the safeties to fail, or Jim Moriarty to become sentient, or the Enterprise to begin manufacturing a weird, oversized desk toy because the computer was hijacked by some sort of negative space wedgie…

   …Actually, I couldn’t blame that one on the holodeck. Even if the episode was mostly set on the Holodeck. I wondered if that episode had been put together from me reading a mission report or watching surveillance footage. Was any of the show real? Or was it part of the Holodeck sim? My thoughts were interrupted by the Enterprise dropping out of warp.

   “Report!”

The Indira-lookalike spoke up. “We have arrived at DRL-3-0451, sir. Performing a system-wide scan now. The Marie Curie reports they have begun their own sensor sweep of the system, and are requesting permission to open a data link with our main computer core.”

   “Request granted. Find where that Ferengi ship is, or whatever’s left of it. Tactical, prep photon torpedoes and charge phasers.”

   “Sir,” said “Steph”. “All weapons armed; the ship is ready for battle. All stations reporting they are battle ready.”

   “Helm, bring us around to 354 mark 169 mark twelve. Impulse to half.”

   “Aye, sir,” I heard myself saying, without intending to. My fingers, seemingly by themselves, danced across the controls, entering a course. “Course laid in; impulse engines engaged at half power.”

   “Captain, The Marie Curie has picked up a debris field near the fifth planet. Our own sensors confirm it.”

   Riker tapped some icons on his console. “I’m running an analysis of the debris. Debris mass is consistent with that of a D’kora-class merchant vessel. Hull material analysis confirms composition is consistent with the specifications of D’kora-class hull plating. Analysis complete. The wreckage is indeed from the ship that sent the distress call.”

   “Escape pods?” asked Picard, turning to the ensign seated next to me, the one who looked like Indira. “Ensign, I need to know if we can render any aid?”

   “No distress beacons detected in the wreckage or within twenty thousand kilometres of the debris field. Detecting warp plasma residue consistent with a critical antimatter containment failure. If anyone made it off before the ship blew, it is unlikely their pods would have cleared the radius of the blast.”

   “Captain! Six vessels de-cloaking eight hundred meters off our bow! They’re charging weapons!”

   “Evasive-” Picard began. Before he could complete his order, one of the ships- a vessel vaguely resembling a metallic cephalopod with a large fin on each side of its dorsal and ventral hull- fired a beam of what looked like lightening. The ship shook, and sparks sprayed from the consoles at the rear.

   “Damage Report!” ordered Riker. “Return fire, all phaser batteries!”

   “Aye sir, firing phaser banks one through four. Shields at 78%, no casualties reported. Minor damage to auxiliary systems on decks one, seven, and thirteen.”

   “Helm, initiate evasive pattern delta-six,” ordered Picard. “Navigation, send coded message to Starfleet Command. Tell them we are under attack from a superior force, and are requesting reinforcements from the nearest Federation starships.”

   “Unable to comply, sir,” reported the Ensign next to me, my fingers laying in the commands without me really understanding what I was doing. Whatever I did, it worked, and the ship began turning to port, firing all of the phasers on the ventral side of the saucer section at the enemy vessels. “Our long range subspace communications are being jammed. I can’t raise any of the local subspace communications relays.”

   “Phasers have had no effect. Enemy shields still at maximum,” reported the tactical officer. “Enemy ships are focusing fire on the Marie Curie. Her shields are at 35% and failing rapidly.”

   “Suggestions?” asked Riker, turning to the tactical officer. She didn’t take long to respond.

“I suggest launching a barrage of photon torpedoes, and set phasers to cycle frequency until we find a way through their shields. If we can blind their targeting sensors long enough to buy some time, maybe we can make it to warp and get out of here and regroup with additional ships at Starbase 592.”

   “Agreed,” Picard said. “Helm, bring us around to heading 334 mark 216 mark four. Maximum impulse. Navigation, lay in a course to Starbase-“

   The ship shook violently as something impacted our hull. Several consoles, including the navigation console, exploded, and the lights switched to a blood-red emergency setting. On the main viewer, I could see a segment of something metallic spinning away from our bow. It was the Marie Curie…or what was left of her.”

   “The Marie Curie has been destroyed!” reported the tactical officer. Troi got up and checked the pulse of the navigation officer. She look up at Picard, and shook her head. The woman was staring up at the ceiling, eyes unblinking. “Some sort of unknown weapon. Debris impact has caused major damage shipwide. Reports of multiple casualties coming in from sickbay. Structural integrity at 62%, shields are down.”

   “Enemy ships have ceased firing, and are surrounding us,” I heard myself reporting, even though I was still feeling like I was in a state of shock. “Our escape is blocked off, Captain. Impulse engines not responding, but I still have RCS control.”

   “Receiving a hail from the enemy flagship,” reported the Tactical officer. “Sir…they’re demanding our surrender.”

   Picard stood up from his chair, and performed his trademark uniform adjustment, pulling down on the front of his shirt. “On Screen.”

   An alien with human-like features, but with the nose of a pig and glowing red eyes lacking a pupil appeared on the main monitor, static distorting the image. He stood on an unfamiliar bridge; the details shrouded in darkness.”

   “We are the Athurans. This system is ours. We have laid claim to it as is our right as the inheritors of the Iconian Legacy! Your Federation has committed an act of aggression against our empire, and you must pay for your intrusion upon our lands. You allow filth like that female next to you to serve aboard your ships, and fail to respect the natural right of the strong to dominate the weak. For these, amongst other crimes, your ship shall be forfeit. Surrender, and we may spare your pitiful lives. Refuse, or fight back, and we will destroy your ship. You have one of your earth minutes to comply. Primus Gibonian, out.”

   The transmission cut off, the view screen returning to the view of the exterior of the ship. Picard turned to Riker.

   “Number one, order all dependants and casualties to move to the stardrive section. Do so at once. Helm, prepare for saucer separation. We’ll hold off the enemy while the stardrive section escapes. Let history remember the name…Enterprise.”

   “Aye, sir, Saucer separation in one minute,” I said, as Riker ordered an evacuation of all families and injured to the stardrive section.”

   “Number one, your orders are to take command of the stardrive section and proceed to the nearest Federation starbase. Tell them what has happened here, and get those families to safety.”

   “Captain…”

   “Will, do it,” Picard said to his XO, barely audibly. “Your responsibility is to those who will survive. Don’t make me give you a direct order.”

   “…Aye, sir,” Riker said, after a brief pause. “It’s been an honour serving under you. Give them hell.”

Picard turned to me and the tactical officer. “This is likely to be a battle we will lose, and we will most likely not survive. I won’t order you to carry out a suicide mission, but I need a helmsman and a tactical officer if we’re going to buy enough time for the saucer section to make it to warp.”

   Before the rational part of my mind which was screaming that I wanted to go back to the secret torture basement already could catch up with what was going on, my mouth was already speaking. “Let the record show that Lieutenant Malloy has chosen to remain at his post.”

   “I can’t promise I can give you much,” said the tactical officer to the captain. “But I think I’ve figured out the enemy shield frequency. 35% of our phasers are still operational, and locked on target.”

   “Will, go now,” Picard urged. “Troi, go with him. The saucer separation will commence any moment now.”

   The two officers moved to the turbolift that went directly to the battle bridge without further argument. Troi looking back over her shoulder as she left. This wasn’t right. The Enterprise wasn’t meant to die like this, not in a battle against a species who were never on the show. Was Generations just part of the holodeck fantasy I’d constructed for myself? It would certainly explain why Picard was grossly out of character in the TNG movies and that godawful TV show from a few years ago.

   “Saucer separation initiating now,” I reported, tapping at my console. “Battle Bridge reports they have restored partial sublight functionality. Saucer section still reliant on RCS thrusters only. Enemy ships are moving to intercept stardrive section.”

   “Tactical, warn them off. Fire all remaining phasers, depressurise all nonessential sections of the ship,” Picard ordered. “Helm, as soon as we’re clear of the saucer, give me maximum available thrust, and plot a collision course towards the enemy flagship. Disable all safeties, prepare to ram the enemy. Engage.”

   “Collision course set, all thrusters firing at full burn. Stardrive section is falling back, and preparing for warp.”

   “Enemy ships are returning fire,” reported the tactical officer as the ship shuddered under the brunt of the enemy weapons. “Major damage to all systems. Primary sensors offline, switching to backups. Life support failure imminent. Structural integrity field critical.”

   “Divert all non-essential power to life support and structural integrity,” Picard commanded. The lights failed, as multiple wall panels exploded, casting light across the darkened bridge. The viewscreen showed the enemy vessel getting closer and closer, our phasers quickly burning out as they went offline. “Brace for impact. Computer, on my command, prime saucer section self-destruct, fifteen seconds. Command override five-five-seven-Picard-one.”

   “Confirmed,” spoke the ship’s computer in the wonderful voice of Majel Barret. “No other senior command staff detected onboard. Standard authorisation protocols disengaged. Self-destruct armed and awaiting final confirmation.”

   “Final code Zero-zero-zero-destruct-zero,” Picard said, sitting down, and strapping himself into his seat. “Thank you, both of you. Our sacrifice will not be in vain.”

   “Impact in ten seconds, self-destruct is counting down. Stardrive has escaped to warp, two enemy ships moving to follow,” I reported. Behind me, the tactical console exploded, throwing the officer manning it back into the remains of the aft console bank. I heard a knocking sound, like the ship’s superstructure was beginning to buckle. It sounded almost like a knock on a door, but I did not want that to be my last thought. Instead, I decided to say goodbye to my greatest hero. “Captain Picard, sir, it has been a hon-”

   The world went white, and I felt myself jerk forward…

Stardate -355.512 – Programme Day Nine

   …as I snapped awake in my desk chair in front of the computer. I was in my room in Dorley, the consensus chat I’d been in with Steph still open in front of me. Steph had long since left the conversation, the message history blank like she said it would be after she left. I…had been dreaming? The whole fucking time? Including the bit at breakfast? The knocking sound from my dream continued, as someone knocked gently on my door.

   “Alan, it’s lunchtime, and you haven’t gotten up. Christine said you fell asleep late last night, so I wanted to give you some time to sleep in, but you need to get up and eat something.”

   I sat there as she presumably walked away. I…I was back in hell. It was a goddamn dream. I buried my face in my palms and screamed into them.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

CrazyMinh

I'd like to apologise for leading everyone along for most of a chapter, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up, what with the episode title and whatnot. If anyone wants to yell at me in the comments, please do so, I deserve everything I’m going to get for this out of season Aprils fools joke.

As always, thank you to all my readers for sticking with this story for so long. I know the last two chapters have been shorter than usual, but I had to do a fair amount of rejigging of my plan for the story going forwards after I realised some things I’d planned back when I started weren’t going to work. For example, I initially planned to do all three years of the programme, but realised that realistically I couldn’t keep things interesting for sixty chapters without doing some serious story twists that I’m just not capable of at the stage I am in my career as an author. The story as currently planned (and even that’s subject to further change), will run for another eighteen chapters, with the last three being an epilogue set after the end of the three years. I’ve also split the story into what I’m calling two seasons, with the end of season one being chapter twelve, and season two comprising everything from chapter thirteen onwards. The second part will also be a bit darker and more psychological (assuming I can pull that off as well as I hope I can), so I’d advise anyone who doesn’t feel comfortable with that to at least try the first episode of that season before bowing out if it’s a bit much.

Thank you to Jade Diaz and FayeBliss for financially supporting Dorley: The Next Generation and my other work through their Ko-Fi donations. I’m grateful for the extra cash, as it’ll serve as a means for me to buy coffee in the mornings before work, at least once it clears PayPal’s holding period. If you have $5 Australian to spare, and you’d like to help make a small-time author a little happier, please consider donating via the link at the bottom of the page. Regardless of whether you do or do not, I’m happy to just get your engagement with the comments section, and to hear your feedback, criticism, and suggestions/theories about where the story will go next.

This is the only time I’m going to pull the rug out from under your feet, so don’t worry, something like this won’t happen again. This was basically a little bit of fun before the second half of the first season begins, and the tone begins to head towards where we’ll be going for the second part of the story. Again, I apologise for the chapter-long bait-and-switch, as well as my nebulous comments that suggested that I was going to literally just start writing a Star Trek story- although, I should really only be apologising to one person for that (sorry, Nat, but I have said I like fucking with my audience)- but this was fun to write, and it was an opportunity I could not resist taking.

Have a great day, and remember, it is possible to commit no errors and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life. Shal’kek Nem’ron!