Reconstituted Ghosts

Posted on Tue May 22nd, 2018 @ 1:53am by Commander Rita Paris & Captain Enalia Telvan & Lieutenant Mona Gonadie & Petty Officer 2nd Class Ila Dedjoy
Edited on on Tue Dec 25th, 2018 @ 2:53am

Mission: Curing the Black Blood
Location: USS Hera
Timeline: En Route to Granweh

The USS Hera had been en route to Granweh for some time now and even travelling at warp nine point nine, the trip would take several weeks to get there. The stealth plating was operating normally, the new warp engine was running fine, and all systems were at peak performance so the crew was relaxing and getting ready for what could possibly be a deadly dance with an ancient Celtic goddess - one that they could easily piss off just by showing up.

Thus Enalia wasn't expecting anything happening during night shift, even if they were flying straight through an area of space that hadn't been visited by the Federation in over one hundred fifty years. Ensign Gonadie calling up at three in the morning for anything less than a life and death matter was rare and the reason she called was surprising indeed.

"Captain... Captain, we have a situation." Gonadie's voice called.

"What is it?" Enalia replied, shielding her eyes from the bedside light as her wife and the bedside light both woke her up.

Gonadie's voice filtered in, filled with worry. This was definitely a life and death situation for someone. "Reports of sightings of a ghost came filtering in so we did some scans and it seems we caught a transphasic transporter accident victim in our warp field. We tried to reconstitute her, but while at warp, we're having trouble getting a lock. If we slow down, we're pretty sure we're going to lose her."

Enalia thought it over a moment before coming to a conclusion. "Transphasic, you say? Have Crewman Dedjoy meet me in the Section 31 transporter room immediately and transfer your sensor data up there. I have an idea."

"Aye, Captain." With a bleep, the comms cut off. Enalia hopped out of bed, gave her holographic wife a kiss, and grabbed her uniform so she could change in the turbolift.

Moments later, she was with Crewman Ila Dedjoy in the S31 transporter room, staring at the sterile white walls with the holographic controls and the sealed glass three person pad. They weren't entirely sure how the system worked yet, but it used some sort of sparkling powder that they had a limited supply of and was instantaneous as long as they could make some semblance of sensor contact with the destination. Ila had even been able to send a bio-canister into subspace and bring it back. Mostly...

"Captain, I'm not even sure if this will... Oh shit... The system is auto-calculating..." Ila seemed stunned and surprised, to say the least.

Enalia moved so she could see the system doing its calculations and her jaw dropped at the implications of what it was doing. She'd seen reports of time travel and mirror universe travel and intergalactic travel... but this system looked like it was doing math designed to actually do it.

With a pleasant chirrup, it finished and Ila nodded. "We're green across the board, Captain. We have a solid lock and simulations are green."

Enalia took a deep breath and nodded. "Do it."

Ila placed her hand on the single physical control in the room - a big red button. With bated breath, she pressed it. The sparkles filled the chamber and in a bright flash of light inside the sealed chamber, they were consumed and replaced by a woman.



One minute Paris was on the pad, and she could feel the transport going sideways even as Sonak struggled to rectify it. Then she was beaming through space, headed toward the Exeter... maybe? Then there was that empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that let her know that she didn't have one, nor any other organs because she was in the middle of a transport, but this was one of those moments that slowed down and dragged out time for Rita Paris. Which only happened during transport, but not like this. This was some fresh hell, and she had no idea what this meant.

There was a wrenching. That was new, and surprisingly painful. Then crackling energy as she felt the ionization have its way with her energized form. Then there was silence and calm and cold, and she could feel herself beginning to drift apart. This was it... transporters had finally been the death of her, and she was going to die out here in the middle of empty vacuum. It bothered her that Sonak would surely blame himself.

No.

Rita Paris had never given up before and she'd hang in there now. Sonak would figure it out and save her, she was certain of it. There was always a way, always a chance. Always a light at the end of the tunnel- a career in Starfleet had taught her that much.

In this case, a starship of a design she wouldn't have recognized had she seen it hit her at warp nine-point-nine.

But now the transphasic astronaut was contained inside a warp field, and she was starting to gain some cohesion. Looking around and taking it in, the starship was unlike any she's ever encountered. As she managed to solidify a bit she got a good look at a few of the crew members. Their emblems looked a little bit like Starfleet, but no sleeve rank ribbons, just collar pips. And they were all in black and charcoal and dark, sombre colors. It looked somehow sinister to her. She followed the largest energy field to the engine room, to the dilithium chamber and started trying to study the readings. But the control panels all seemed to be screens and images of light that she couldn't interact with, nor manipulate in her immaterial form. She was going to have to watch for a while before she could learn much about where the hell she was now.

That was when a few of the crew pointed at her, and Rita Paris realized she was not invisible this time around. Apparently this warp field was very different than that of the NCC 1700, and a whole lot stronger. They were scanning her, and Rita ducked into the panel, not certain if this was a place she wanted to be... not that she had any choice. It was a miracle she was even as intact as she was... which was her last thought before she felt the sickening pull of the transporter, yanking and pulling her through, across, together and reconstituting her energy form back into matter.

Leaning on one hand against the clear inside of the three-man pod, the pretty pilot stared out at the spotted woman and the humanoid operating the transporter. In the white room, both looked quite stark and sinister to Rita's eye in their dark uniforms. Leaning against the side of the booth, Rita Paris tried to stay upright, but her newly reconstituted legs were not cooperating, and her gold-clad form slid slowly down the side of the tube.

"I sure hope you people are Starfleet," the leggy blonde muttered as she slumped to the deck.

Unsealing the chamber, Enalia helped the woman lay down a bit more gently while Ila grabbed the medkit and popped open a tricorder to scan her. Ila spoke first. "Scans show a temporal signature of around 2268... Origin was a Starfleet transporter... Vitals stable, no signs of any flux. Reconstitution successful, Captain."

Enalia smiled welcomingly. "I'm Captain Enalia Telvan of the USS Hera. We're with Starfleet. Welcome to the year 2395."

"What... wait, what now...?!?" Those bright blue eyes widened in panic before biology took over again, and the anachronistic astronaut turned to vomit what little was in her stomach onto the deck, convulsing for a few seconds as her body finished reacting to both the unconventional transport and the news that she had just transported over one hundred years into the future. Mustering what dignity she could, the officer in the gold minidress wiped her mouth on the back of her hand as she studied the two women. With some effort against protesting recently reassembled muscles, she struggled to sit upright.

Could be some kind of trick, but... spots around her face? What's that all about? The other one looks humanoid, but she definitely isn't earth human. They aren't wearing those stupid belly tops, so they likely aren't Terran Empire... 2395?!? Brows furrowing, the Starfleet career gal made her choice in the moment. For now, she would take the situation at face value and assume this was not some sort of elaborate hoax by the Romulans, or some demipower of the universe playing a game with her to see how she would run the rat maze. Instead, as unlikely as it seemed, this was the situation and right now the two women were expecting some sort of reaction from her.

A lady captain... a non-human lady captain, maybe. On a Starfleet starship. This might just be the future after all.

"Captain... Telvan?" she began. "Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris, chief helmsman, USS Exeter, NCC 1706. We were on a rescue mission to the colonists of Ajilon Prime. I was one of the last to beam up... there was interference from an an ion storm as the system was suffering from massive solar flares, and Commander Sonak and I had stayed behind to..." Paris trailed off as she looked around. "Guessing a core sample of unusual isotopes didn't show up here with me, did it?" The joke was made as a stab at rueful humor, though it was evident on the woman's face that she was struggling to hold it together.

Enalia grinned a bit wider. "Afraid not, Commander. I remember reading about you at the Academy. The great missing Rita Paris... If you're feeling up to it, we could escort you to sickbay."

"Great, I went down in history as AWOL,” Paris chuckled darkly. “So... your transporter looks pretty impressive," Paris noted with a definite lack of enthusiasm as she eyed the sterile contraption. When she spoke again, there was a note of hope in her voice that was heartbreaking to hear. "Can it... can it send me back...?"

Enalia glanced around at the sterile white transporter room. "This is a special one and we're still learning what all it can do, actually... But the temporal prime directive may apply so Intel Command and the Office of Temporal Investigations may prefer you stay in this era." Enalia paused a bit before continuing. "They may also want to ask you lots of questions about the era you lived in compared to this one."

"The Temporal Accords may also come into effect, Captain. Their transitional learning programs could come in handy." Crewman Ila Dedjoy replied as she put the medkit back on the wall.

"This is true..." Enalia eyed Dedjoy for a moment. For the purposes of recorded history, Ila was the twin sister of a now deceased Starfleet crew member that had died while in the line of duty on an away mission commanded by her Intel Chief... But this Dedjoy was so much more and an invaluable asset to the crew of the Hera. In this case, truth was so much stranger than fiction.

"So do you feel up to moving around? We could do a site to site transport, but I have a feeling taking the turbolift might be a bit more relaxing." Enalia replied with a lopsided grin and a wink as she offered a hand up.

Taking the offered hand, Paris’ mind raced. Temporal prime directive? Office of Temporal investigations? Temporal accords? Stay in this era?!? Briefly Rita eyed the control panel of the advanced transporter mechanism that had just reconstituted her from whatever energy she had been transformed into that had catapulted her a hundred years into the future.. a hundred and twenty-nine, if her addled math was correct. The controls looked like nothing she had ever seen, and in her current condition it was highly unlikely that she could overpower the two officers, figure out the admittedly experimental technology and manage to send herself back to the right era, forget about the right coordinates.

Sonak would not stop looking for her. Of that she was sure. But if she was historical fact, did that mean that it was a foregone conclusion that whatever he had tried had failed? Her head swam with the stress of the experience being compounded by the realization that she might genuinely be trapped here, separated from her ship, her love, her life... everyone she knew would now be dead, and everything she knew was different, changed... evolved by a hundred and twenty nine years of progress.

Leaning heavily on the spotted captain in the dark, sinister uniform, Rita Paris leveled her gaze and set her jaw. Her legs were wobbly and her head was light, but damned if she wouldn’t walk to sickbay.

“Yes ma’am, I can walk,” Paris declared as her legs turned to rubber beneath her and her eyes fluttered, only by sheer strength of will did she hold onto consciousness. She was Starfleet, she was an officer and this wasn’t the first time she had been thrust into the fire. But transformed by an accident, then rebuilt by a barely grasped technology, lost in time, separated from all she knew and all alone... it was a bit much for one day, it seemed. Or so her body seemed determined to tell her.

Enalia supported her the best she could - Rita was a bit heavier than she looked. She tried not to let it show but the pressing flesh confirmed it. This great unsolved mystery from the Academy days... The legendary lost navigator of the Constitution... Had bigger boobs than her!

Now wasn't the time for such thoughts though. Enalia led Rita out of the transporter room into the comparatively more colorful corridor. As Ila resealed it and began the sterilization process, they made their way to the turbolift, the beige and silver paneling hopefully being more comforting than the stark white of the room they had just been in. The turbolift was even less stark in contrast, being more taupe and tan to match the rest of the ship.

It all barely registered on Paris, save that earthtones certainly were an odd choice for starship decor. Where was the grey-blue of the tritanium decks and bulkheads? This was more organic somehow, yet more streamlined. To her eye it just looked alien as she stumbled along, leaning more on the two women than she cared to, yet her body giving her little choice in the matter.

As the turbolift doors closed, Ila took out a PaDD and started writing up a report while Enalia called out their destination. "Main Sickbay."

As the turbolift started moving, Enalia decided to make small talk to pass the time. "You might notice some slight differences in the paneling between the various parts of the ship. We've had a few refits over the years, and some parts of the ship are a bit newer than others. We're originally a series three Nebula class, but the pod is from a Spectre class. Much of the engineering section is from a Galaxy class, our engines are from a Venture class, our bridge module is a custom design from Intel Command... And none of this makes any sense to you, does it?"

A sad smile spread across the living anachronism’s face. “No ma’am, I’m afraid I... don’t know any of those starship classes.” It was painful for the perennial overachiever to admit, and it began to hit home to her just how out of her depth she was now. Over a hundred years behind the times, everything she knew was now outdated and useless. She probably couldn’t operate a single bridge position anymore. Idly she wondered if the starship circuitry even used duotronic relays anymore.

Chuckling softly, Enalia shook her head. "Well, suffice it to say that the Federation has grown a lot since your day. We had to with all the threats we've faced."

“The Klingons?” Paris offered, suspecting it was not going to be a correct answer but futilely reaching for something familiar. “The Romulans?”

Enalia shook her head and grinned wryly. "Both became our allies during the Dominion War. Then there's the conflict with the Borg... Nothing like a cybernetic hive mind with a penchant for assimilating everything it deems useful in the pursuit of perfection to bring enemies together, right? And let's not forget the Iconians... They became a threat for a while."

"Technically they still are..." Crewman Dedjoy added.

"Only because we haven't found a cure yet." Corrected Enalia.

The Klingons and Romulans are allies now? Who the hell was the Dominion that had been such a threat as to bring the savage houses of the Klingons into an alliance with the Star Empire, who had made a regular habit of betrayal and conquest? Borg? Cybernetic hive mind? The more the two women casually spoke of future events that made no sense to the curvaceous commander, the more she suspected that they were insuring that the Office Of Temporal Screwing Up Rita’s Chances of Going Home was not going to want her going anywhere.

The damned Iconians were just a myth, and now a cure was needed for them? In this moment Rita Paris desperately missed the calm and logical man in her life more than ever, because he would find them a way back home. As it stood, she was still holding out hope that he was working on it, and he would find her. It was a hope born of desperation, but the man had always come through for her. That made it easier to keep hope alive.

Outwardly Paris smiled and worked on convincing her body to work correctly “Sounds like you live in interesting times...”

"That we do," Enalia replied as the turbolift doors opened. "Sickbay is just a little further." Walking the few feet to sickbay, they helped Rita to the nearest biobed. "Ila, could you find the night shift nurse and explain the situation?"

Ila nodded and headed off towards the sickbay offices in search of the night duty staff.

Settling onto the biobed, Rita tucked her skirt tightly around her hips with an ease born of years of practice. Looking around the futuristic sickbay, it lacked the old monitors that transmitted the patient’s vitals and thumped in time with the heartbeat. If this was an illusion it was a good one, but Paris didn’t believe that was so. This was real, this was happening, and this was her life. This was the far-flung future- the twenty-fourth century, on the cusp of the twenty-fifth.

“Temporal prime directive, eh?” the leggy Lieutenant asked with an unconvincing attempt at nonchalance. “This sort of thing happens that often in the future?”

"We honestly don't know the full extent of it ourselves, to be honest." Enalia chuckled softly as she turned on the overhead panels for the biobed, the readouts displaying the vitals and scans that were automatic for anyone on the biobed. "We're technically on the beginning edge of the Temporal Accords so our knowledge of what they entail is very limited. I do know that an agent from the thirty first century tends to monitor most of our temporal anomalies and if we did find a way to send you back to your era, we'd have to get their approval for timeline incursions or some such. Not to mention wiping your memory of everything that happened here in this era."

"As for the Temporal Prime Directive itself, I'm pretty sure that if you asked to be sent back to... 2266 was it? The request would be a flat out denial followed by some cryptic message about spoilers." Enalia shook her head as she tapped at a wall panel, trying to figure out the biobed controls. She was rambling and nervous and she knew it. This was one of her idols before she was joined and it may have been showing just a bit. "The medical staff here make these things look so easy..."

Dropping her hands to her sides, Enalia gave up. "Ok. So. I know a lot has changed. We use isolinear circuitry and bioneural computer tech now rather than... Duotronics was it? We have one runabout that has manual controls rather than touch controls. Almost everything else aboard is a touch panel. Aesthetics are less harsh on the eyes of more sensitive races. I can put in a recommendation with command to let you stay aboard indefinitely, if you'd like to spend some time figuring things out. We have more facilities than most ships in the fleet. We have some pretty dangerous missions, but our amenities rival that of Earth and can provide any training you may desire."

There was a long moment of silence that followed, and when the officer of another age spoke, her voice had a tremulous quaver to it that try as she might she could not restrain. “Half an hour ago I was hustling colonists into the transporters, promising that I would secure their research. Sonak was going to beam me out, and I knew he could do it... hell, I was more worried that he wouldn’t make it out. Now... here I am, onboard a starship of the future. So far into the future that everyone I have ever known is dead. Everything I know is out of date and useless. I’m a living relic, a walking antique that they won’t let go back to where I belong and... he was just there, I told him that I trusted him...”

Lips pursed, eyes squeezed shut, Rita Paris was making a Herculean effort not to cry. The hope that Sonak was going to save her from this one seemed more like self delusion than anything logical. Sonak was history- even with his Vulcan lifespan he was long dead by now. She could probably ask the locals and they would cheerfully provide her with the dates and circumstances of his death.

After all, to them they were just facts. Dry historical data, nothing more. To Rita it had been her whole life, but that was gone now- it was history, just like Stuart and the Exeter and everything she had ever known. Maybe she could find some way back in time, but she was no scientist nor chronological theorist. She was just a pilot and gunner whose shield and torpedo strategies were probably laughable in this future in which she was now a permanent resident.

The tears rolled down her cheeks silently, and while it wasn’t very becoming an officer, Rita couldn’t help it.

Enalia reached out and squeezed the displaced woman's hand tenderly. "I'm sorry. I know this is all a lot to take in and I'm rattling, which isn't helping. Out of everything that's changed though, you might be surprised at what hasn't. Replicators are about the same. Console and computer systems tend to be similar, just many times faster. Computer controls haven't changed much since the days of the NX-01 - we just use touch panels to do it now."

Enalia paused a moment, debating on how far she wanted to go. "As for what happened to the people you knew... You can look them up in the Federation database. I believe there may be a few holo-recordings that you can view as well, if you'd like."

Despite herself, Rita smiled and barked a short, coughing laugh. Starship captains are still the same, at least there's that. Still awful at consolation and they can't cope with a crying woman. Mopping at her nose with the back of her hand, Paris proceeded to rub her eyes with the palms of her hands, then shook her head as she sat up straight, then wobbled a bit. Gritting her teeth and gripping the edge of the biobed, she turned to eye the captain of the Hera.

"I'd like to take you up on that offer, Captain," Paris offered the starship commander an earnest expression. "I'd like to stay aboard, and catch up to... all of this," the buxom blonde waved idly about at the high-tech starship, "so that I can be of use and serve a purpose. I'm not," Paris paused at that, and Enalia could see her literally swallowing her feelings as she took a big gulp of air before continuing. "This isn't where I chose to be, but you 'do what you can with what you have where you are', right?"

Paris offered her hand, as saluting while sitting wouldn't much reinforce her point. Plus while she was managing to sit up, she didn't trust her 'just got beamed in from across space, time and dimensions' legs just yet.

"You aren't exactly catching me at my best right now," the anachronistic astronaut admitted with a sad smirk, "but I'm a fair helmsman and navigator, and a dedicated officer. Hopefully that's an historical fact," Paris half-joked. "Permission to come aboard, ma'am?"

Returning the handshake, Enalia gave her own piratical lopsided grin. "Permission granted. And yes, I wrote a thesis paper on you my first year at the Academy so I'm well aware of your qualifications. By today's standards you're a class seven pilot and with a few days in a simulator, I think you could fly anything in known space. In fact, I think if you put your mind to it, in a few years time you could have a command of your own if you wanted. Sooner if you didn't wait on Starfleet."

"Not wait on Starfleet...?" Paris asked hesitantly. What she said next, she had planned to keep internal, but her day had been a bit hard on her and her filters weren't what they should have been. "What now, I can join the glorious Romulan Star Empire and get a command right away?

Enalia stared at her a moment before laughing softly. "No, I'm actually the heiress to the Artan family pirates. Most of our work is hunting down other pirates that are deemed too unruly by the rest of the pirate community and legitimate work though... So maybe we're more pirate police?"

"But you... and this ship... Starfleet, right?" The last thing Rita needed was any more uncertainty today. If she could hold on to duty, at least she would still have that. Starships still warped through space and they still needed pilots... unless the computers did it all now. As she spoke again, it was clear that Paris was teetering a bit, a touch of hysteria tinging her voice. "You aren't pirate police though, you said you were Starfleet. That's, that's a Starfleet emblem, right? This is a United Federation of Planets starship?"

The busty Captain shook her head as she leaned back on another biobed behind her. "Yes, I'm a Starfleet Captain. This is a Starfleet ship. We fall under Starfleet Intel Command. When I retire from Starfleet, I'll take over the family business though. I have a few more assets than pretty much any other captain in the fleet, which makes me a pain in Command's butt because I often don't give two shits about their politics and bureaucracy, but it also means they know I won't take no for an answer."

"Rebel captain with money and clout, dangerous missions," Paris grinned. "Five starships cobbled together just to serve your own agenda amongst the stars? There she is, ladies and gents. There's the starship captain. Starfleet... Intel?" Paris raised a manicured eyebrow at that. Brushing her short blonde hair out of her eyes, the pretty pilot grinned at the captain as she wobbled a bit on the biobed. "Let me guess, we're already elbows deep in some sort of universal crisis, or are we chasing a mission in which you have a personal stake? "

"We're going after a potential cure for something that turns people into Iconian demons," Enalia replied casually. "You know how it is. Starfleet Captains don't leave anyone behind until they can't find anything left to save."

"Admirable quality, Captain." Paris winced, considered for a moment then spoke up.

"Ma'am, I don't want to seem critical, but we've been in sickbay for a while. Are all of the sickbay personnel just avoiding us because I'm under quarantine, is it your order or is no one on duty in this sickbay?" The buxom blonde wobbled a bit on the biobed, choosing to tuck her skirt in and lay down. "Being reconstituted from time traveling energy to matter was a lot easier and less painful this time, but I'd really like to see a doctor. I have body aches like you wouldn't believe, and I'm... I'm working on not letting it stop me but I'm very sad. I should talk to someone about that, too..."

The chin squinched up again as Paris thought of Sonak, lost to time and space to her. At least you won't have to watch me grow old and die, T'hy'la she thought, and shed a tear. Glancing up at the captain, the nubile navigator shrugged apologetically.

"Sorry ma'am. Been one hell of a day."

"Actually, it took Ila a good twenty minutes to explain ho w you got here, then another twenty with a very strong cup of coffee to figure out if you need to be isolated at all." Marci had bounced into the room just in time to hear the comment about sickbay personnel 'avoiding' a patient, but with the tears involved... she chalked it up to stress and brushed it aside. "So, about that pain. I'd like to get rid of it for you, but I need to know if you have any allergies first." While waiting for the answer, Marci produced a tricorder from one of her many pockets and started some basic medical scans. As far as she could tell, there was nothing necessitating a full quarantine, but she wasn't inviting anyone else into this part of sickbay until she was sure either.

“Just an allergy to wool,” the gold-clad time-tossed traveler replied. “So don’t put me in a nice Scottish sweater and there shouldn’t be any issues.”

"Ah, well. I had such a cute one to share with you too." Marci cracked a toothy grin, fishing two hyposprays out of her pocket. "Let's try ketorolac and orphenadrine first. Anti-inflammatory and muscle relaxer... should be just the thing, but I have other tricks if not." She gently gave her new patient both injections then tucked the hyposprays back in her pocket. "We'll give it a few minutes to work and if it's not enough, I can get something stronger."

“Thank you, Doctor,” Paris smiled. “I suppose I should amend that allergy list to include transporters. If I never have to endure having my atomic structure broken down, converted into energy and beamed through space again, it’ll be too soon.” The blonde frowned a bit at that before raising a finger in thought. “If it isn’t too much trouble, I know my medical records probably aren’t exactly accessible, but if you could take some thorough scans I would very much appreciate it. I always swore that I was losing parts of me with every transport... maybe with your future technology, you can find something Dr. Lang and Starfleet Medical never could.”

"Thank you for the compliment, but I'm not a doctor," Marci replied brightly. "And I'll take as many scans in as much detail as you like. I can even set your bed up to do most of the work for us, so you can sleep through it. As for medical records... well. We have resources other ships lack, and I might be able to get into them. With some help.”

Not a doctor? Paris boggled. I guess with the Temporal accords and all of the time travel they encounter this is like a vaccination shot to these people, happens all the time, routine, no cause for concern. Outwardly Paris just smiled and nodded- now she felt a bit foolish for having asked for the scan. Hell, she wasn’t positive what a biobed of her own century could do, let alone one of this odd future.

Sleep, though. That was sounding more appealing by the minute. While she knew the captain was right here and someone was going to have to debrief her and insure this wasn’t some sort of ruse or elaborate spy game she was running- maybe she was a Borg spy, right? Rita Paris was pretty wrung out from her day.

“Kinda hard to keep my eyes open, Captain,” Paris said softly. “Permission to pass out, ma’am? I promise I’ll be right here in the morning. M’just... really tired now...”

"Yeah, I'll brief the XO and send him your way later. Get some rest for now and we'll go from there, ok?" Enalia smiled brightly as she made ready to leave. "Take good care of her, Marci."

"Yes ma'am..." Paris mumbled as she drifted off to sleep. With all she knew lost to the past, her precious memories would be all that she had left of what the career officer had held dear. So as the lights dimmed, the unintentional time traveler revisited her own era the only way that she could- in dreams and memories.