Assignment: Earth!

Posted on Thu Jul 25th, 2019 @ 8:47am by Lieutenant Samuel Clemens XV & Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Lieutenant Commander Sonak & Petty Officer 2nd Class Ila Dedjoy & Petty Officer 3rd Class S'Rina Wil'I'Ams & Petty Officer 3rd Class V'Nus Wil'I'Ams
Edited on on Sat Aug 17th, 2019 @ 7:27pm

Mission: Mudd on the Souls of Mankind
Location: USS Danu, the 'Unlucky Lady', various times and spaces
Timeline: 2396-2063

In the Starfleet career of Rita Paris, there were a great many firsts. After all, she had experienced a wide variety of phenomenon, both naturally occurring and just beyond the scope of human experience. But in the here and now, sitting in the Delta Flyer Danu which she had once nicknamed ‘the Unlucky Lady’, Paris watched as Sonak checked the space/time coordinates for their destination, and Lieutenant Dox prepared to execute the flight plan.

Under ordinary circumstances, Paris would take the helm- after all, she was the mission commander, and flying through time was not something she had personally checked off her list of exotic experiences. But the truth of the matter was that Dox was simply a better pilot, and the young flight chief needed to have that responsibility of lives in her hands in order to continue to forge her confidence in herself. Sonak’s calculations would be flawless of course... which meant that the Lost Navigator had nothing to do, but watch and hope for the best on this mission. At least, until they reached their destination.

Earth. Bozeman, Montana. The year 2063, April 5th. Or somewhere thereabout.

A date known to any schoolchild as the first time mankind exceeded Warp One, which attracted the attention of a passing Vulcan scout ship, which created First Contact. A meeting between alien cultures that would change the face of the galaxy, as it would lead to the formation and founding of the United Federation of Planets.

A history currently off track due to the actions of a diabolical madman intent on bringing about the Terran Empire, the alternate history of another dimension where morality was in short supply, and humans were slaves to their baser natures.

Sitting beside the cybernetic Yeoman Dedjoy, the two Wil’I’Ams Klingon security officers seated behind her, the mission was of vital importance, with everything they believed in and stood for at stake. History was the prize, and it was up to the landing party from the USS Hera to get it back on track. Which Commander Rita Paris was determined to accomplish. Because by gum, she hadn’t come all this way through time and space, only to see the Starfleet she had devoted her life to serving wiped away. Not by some self-serving jerk who longed for the bad old days from his own dimension.

At the helm, the red-headed Romulan pilot was busy with a very unique pre-flight checklist. "Quantum Displacement Drive is online and checking green. Temporal shielding is fully powered and checks. Cloak checks..."

The perpetually anxious Lieutenant was at the helm of a ship, and nothing calmed her nerves as much, but she was still feeling the stress of this mission. Like the rest of the away team, Mnhei'sahe Dox was dressed not in her standard Starfleet uniform, but in nondescript, mid-21st century clothes. Hiking boots, bark brown cargo pants, a snug black turtleneck and a short, dark brown leather bomber jacket complete with a thick, fur-lined hood. Freshly installed hair extensions made her normally short, wavy red hair a more unruly mop atop her head that, tucked under a black cap, effectively concealed her overly large, prominently pointy Romulan ears.

While Dox had, in her many months aboard the Hera, dealt with many threats from assassin droids to angry gods, time travel was completely new to her. "...All flight systems check as green to go, Commander."

"Excellent. Mister Sonak, I assume the calculations for our chronal entry point meet with your standards?" Paris asked, knowing full well that they would if Sonak were the one checking the work, or he'd fix them.

''Affirmative, Commander; this vessel and its equipment is much better than what I had myself to use to transition from our own tangent timeline to this one. I estimate our probability of reaching our target spacetime coordinates at ninety-five point three percent. Our insertion garb and materials are one hundred percent authentic and our advanced technology is being properly camouflaged into the time period's known implements. Everything not of this time period, including this vessel, is also equipped with a programmed self-destruct mechanism so that any one piece taken from us or abandoned will vaporize itself and leave no possibility of temporal contamination.''

His steely grey eyes went in turn to everyone in the room.

''Which also means that each one of us is equally expendable if temporal contamination becomes a risk.''

He was not saying this lightly. As a Vulcan, if left stranded on Earth at this time, his life would be the first one to be forfeit.

“Well, given that I am about the only one capable of blending in for any period of time,” Paris countered, trying to lighten the mood a bit as the only human being in the craft, “let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. All righty people, buckle up, grab your armrests and if you pray to some power of the universe, now’s the time to do it. Unless anyone has an objection?” Rita Paris waited to hear if there would be one from any of the crew.

Sitting at attention, Petty Officer V'Nus Wil'I'ams gave the reply for both of the Klingon warrior-women and stalwart members of the Hera's security team, "There is NO greater honor than to die in the performance of one's duty. Come what may, we are prepared, Commander! Regardless of if we return singing songs of our glory or die honorably protecting our reality...the spirit of Kahless will guide us this day!"

The quirky Chief of Intel flashed a wry grin at the Vulcan one-man braintrust. "Speak fer yerself, my logical friend. Ah reckon ah plan on livin' fuhreveuh. Got a reputashun t'maintain."

"I think a Klingon prayer might be just the thing for this mission, Miss V'nus," Paris nodded respectfully to her security officer, then adjusted the baggy overalls that hid her curvaceous figure, making her look lumpy and fat. Rolling up the sleeves of her insulated flannel shirt, Rita slapped on a 49ers baseball hat then turned to regard the doll eyes of the current evolution of Yeoman Dedjoy. The one that Rita still hadn't quite gotten used to yet. "Just for the sake of my sanity in case it becomes important, what sort of drive system are we employing for this particular mission, Miss Dedjoy? In small words I'll understand, how are we cleaving time and space to run counter to time's arrow and arrive seventy lightyears away?"

Dressed in a long grey jacket, rose-colored jeans, and a worn out Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt, Dedjoy had redone her hair into more of a human long-haired style, extending just past her shoulders. She also had some cheap-looking wrap around sunglasses perched on top of her head to cover her eyes and her skin tint had been raised to match that of normal humans. Next to her was a suitcase filled with tech they would need before they even left the shuttle and though she was ready, sitting at the newly installed Quantum displacement Drive Interface console, she was clearly nervous to be going on another away mission.

Looking up from her console, Ila blinked a few times before responding, trying to put it into smaller words. "Well... The quant... The Section 31 transporter we used to save you and that we use to instantly transport three people in that little booth now and then... I was able to get the old engine from the last ship to bear the pod working. Linking the transporter and the drive, we're going to pop our unlucky little ship into the quantum realm, travel through some tubes while Lucky navigates us to our programmed time and place, then pop us back out. while we're in there, we'll need to keep shields at maximum, breathing might be labored... But the trip should only be seven point two seconds at full impulse. We just need to fly straight and let Lucky move the quantum realm around us."

She paused a moment and glanced around the cabin. "I hope that was easy enough to understand. Once we're ready, we just activate black alert and I'll activate the link to the ship and we're off."

From the helm, the Romulan pilot turned over her shoulder for a moment remembering full well what happened when the Hera made a quantum jump months ago, costing the young Yeoman Dedjoy her body and almost her life. But the tension was already high for the mission and Dox knew enough not to exasperate the situation.

After a second, Dox's console flashed. "Commander. Dock control signals we're clear for departure."

"I'll have to read the full report for the big words, but thanks for breaking it down for me, yeoman. Well done." Turning to the pilot's seat, the Starfleet career officer disguised as a local yokel gestured with an open palm to the chief helmsman. "At your leisure, Miss Dox. Mister Sonak has your insertion calculations, Miss Dedjoy is going to do the navigating, and all you have to do is make sure we're not spotted when we arrive."

Leaning forward, Rita Paris set her jaw and might have looked heroic, save for the outfit. "Let's go make history."

As silence and stares filled the cabin for a long five seconds, the Commander raised her hands in humble defeat and sat back in her chair. "Somebody... had to say something like that. I'm pretty sure it's in my Starfleet contract."

''Somewhat colloquial and simplistic... but accurate,'' Sonak answered deadpan.

At which point, the tension in the room cracked ever so slightly as Dox let out a throaty chuckle as she spoke. "Heh... Aye Commander. Initiating launch procedures. The Danu will be clear of the flight deck in twenty seconds. Initiating Chronal shielding."

There was a hum and a slight moment of mild disorientation among the occupants of the Runabout as the Chronal shielding came online, and the Danu made its way into open space.

“Set our coordinates for 48 hours prior to First Contact, Miss Dedjoy- if such a thing can be dictated with that degree of precision,” Paris ordered, ensuring that they would show up with sufficient time to get the lay of the land and attempt to capture their fugitives before enacting their history-ruining shenanigans.

''Chronal calculations completed and verified; transmitting to your navigation computer,'' Sonak announced.

As the runabout sped towards their entry point, Ila tracked their progress on her console. "Activating black alert. Quantum displacement in three, two, one..." A rather harsh klaxon sounded once and the alarm panels went to a rather odd blacklight variant that had only been seen once on the Hera - when the ship had jumped through the quantum realm to escape Gaia's black hole.

This time, it was the Danu's turn. As Ila activated the link to the Hera's drive, the aptly nicknamed Unlucky Lady seemed to spin in all directions away from three-dimensional space from the outside, straight into the quantum realm, disorienting the passengers further. As they flew through the wormhole-like tunnels of interconnected light, Ila counted down the time to the other end of the trip as the AI known as Lucky navigated them through the maze.

"Seven... Six... Five... Four..."

As the Danu continued, Dox felt a wave of dizziness as her skin tingled and the air seemed to press against her harder than was possible. It was like her high G flight training cranked up to 11. But she kept her hands hovering just over the controls of the ship, even though she wasn't in control and she kept her eyes on her instruments.

The two Klingon sisters of Security who were sitting in the back of the flyer- the honorable warrior and the angry brawler- reached across the aisle to hold hands. Nothing in their Starfleet training had really prepared them for this, and for not the first time they wondered why they followed the crazy old lady in the ancient uniform, who dragged them on bizarre adventures as if it were a quick hop to Risa.

''Fascinating,'' Sonak uttered in a deadpan tone. Although he too had used quantum realms to reach this universe, this was completely different from his own interdimensional time travel. With that technology and his calculations, he was confident they would hit their time-space target as expected. But to him, the trip was as worthy as the destination.

As for Rita Paris, the ancient astronaut watched out the viewports, excited by the mode of travel and the mission itself. All of the Federation and Starfleet were depending on the success of their mission, and the responsibility was definitely forefront in her mind. But it was still an amazing adventure, and a mission she would tell her grandchildren about someday when it was declassified. So the extradimensional explorer watched the cosmic phenomenon of their transit with almost childlike wonder, as the universe continued to surprise and delight her sense of adventure.

"Three... Two... One..."

As Ila finished counting, the ship popped out of the quantum realm of tubes, seemingly spinning back into existence in all directions at once, speeding away at full impulse. "Confirming date and location... Sol system... Stardate -259765.7... March 27th, 2063."

''Scanners adjusting stellar chart and thus confirming spacetime location,'' Sonak added from the sensors station.

“We’re early, then…. Good and bad news, thank you Miss Dedjoy,” Commander Paris opined. “Miss Dox, are we cloaked?”

Once the Runabout was back in normal space, it was back under Dox's manual controls and she quickly shook off the disorientation as if it hadn't happened and checked her instruments. "Aye. Cloak is engaged and functioning, Commander."

''Earth at this time had lost all satellite and surveillance systems beyond optical instruments,'' the Vulcan reminded them. And even at optimal capacity, they would be unable to properly detect and identify us. Being inconspicuous to the natives will be relatively easy. It is from our target and it's twenty-fourth century technology that we must be wary of. Especially that he is shrewd enough to expect interference and prepare for such a contingency.''

"Or anyone else who might be in the area, as you mentioned, Mr. Sonak," the curvacious commander called back. "What we don't know fills volumes. Let's see what we do know. Miss Dox, give me a geosynchronous orbit over Bozeman, out of the historic flight plan if you please. Miss Dedjoy, scanners please... are we alone up here, is there a very powerful and very cloaked android running around on the planet below, possibly in Montana? Sam, let's start spying on the locals from orbit- I would like the lay of the land, please. It's adding to historical records if nothing else. Mr. Sonak, please locate and assess Cochrane please, as well as his state of technological preparedness."

The Wil'I'Ams sisters eyed one another silently. No orders for them because it was not yet time for boots on the ground, and there were plenty of scans to go around. For now, they bided their time and waited silently.

After a few seconds of maneuvering, Dox replied from the helm. "In position and scanning range, Commander."

Sonak bent over his console.

''Scanning... Planetary atmosphere is high in toxic waste material and radiation contamination but within acceptable levels. Abundant but dispersed life signs all across the planet. Human life signs concentrated in small pockets scattered throughout the landmasses. Data matches historical records of Earth's condition at the present time... except...''

The Vulcan's fingers flew over a few keys.

''Detecting an impulse trail. It is of a scout class vessel of indeterminate origin and follows a standard atmospheric entry path towards the smaller landmass of the northern hemisphere; North American continent... Montana state.''

He paused a moment before finishing.

''There is also an antimatter signal, matching the trail. Commander, I have located the target area; the power signature is zero point fifty-three kilometers west of it.''

“Excellent work as always, Mr. Sonak. Will the impulse trail have faded by the time the Vulcans arrive in system?” Paris asked, concerned for the potential damage to the timeline even as she assumed their own impulse trail was cloaked. “Also, let’s get some deep scans of that craft- I want to know what we are potentially dealing with, and if we might be able to ensure it doesn’t go anywhere without being obvious about it.”

''It is our twenty-fourth century technology that is allowing us to detect it at this moment. By the time and at the distance they will be passing by, Vulcans of this century will find no detectable trace. History shows no notice of the Borg Sphere crash or the Enterprise E's presence or even of her firing quantum torpedoes at the very moment of Cochrane's test flight. It is only the application of warp power while passing by at the exact moment of the Phoenix' flight that they noticed and prompted them to change course and investigate. Neither did they notice any trace of the presence, nor departure, of Captain Picard's ship as they approached, while planetside or when they left.''

Then he frowned over his instruments.

''Scanning does not provide information on the antimatter powered system. Only the contamination of the atmosphere allowed any detection of its passage and rough location planetside. It appears that that vessel is cloaked with something akin to the latest Romulan technology, as seen on the flagship Scimitar of former Praetor Shinzon; or like the experimental cloaking system the Klingons tested during the whole Praxis Incident and up to camp Khitomer.''

He turned his steel eyes towards her.

''Such technology would be superfluous against even the most advanced sensors of this time period. Their hull's alloy refraction index would have been enough. This would confirm that our quarry expects interference; our kind of interference.''

“Duly noted and working into the plans. Can you estimate how long the intruder vessel has been here already?” Paris probed, determined to ask the right questions. “Also, any news on Cochrane or his state of readiness? I’ve read the Enterprise report- is he at the appropriate point of development or has someone already interfered?”

''Judging by the decay and dispersal of the particles in the atmosphere, I would estimate no more than one standard planetary revolution,'' Sonak answered. ''As for Cochrane's readiness; standard history has him ready as far as technology is concerned; but psychologically, it would take him six point fifty-three days to muster up enough courage... and enough intoxication if records are accurate... to actually go and pilot the Phoenix to it's rendezvous with History. But that, of course, is not taking into account any tampering with that History.''

Again he frowned a bit, as if working hard on some problem.

''We know the Borg did so; and their attack, barely averted by the Enterprise right in their temporal wake, would have pushed it too late for the Vulcans to detect the flight. As it were, it barely made it; Picard's crew worked to repair and ready the warpship for launch in time, thus restoring History; at least the main outcome. Now if some other time traveler is here, there is no way to ascertain if tampering has occurred or not... short of going to examine the situation directly.''

That was when Ila spoke up with a thump to her console. "I've got a lock on her! The tech in her has so many distinct signatures in it that my scanner tech cut through her cloak like a hot dakka through grilla. I can't transport her, but she's actually in the colony marked as Bozeman. Something listed as a bar."

“Hmmm… if we can’t transport her then she’s using her shields, but not her camouflage. So we may have to flush her out and give her a good reason to hide so that we can catch her. For now, we have the luxury of time, so let’s use it. Please keep monitoring her Miss Dedjoy, and if her shields drop, beam her, on my authority, straight into stasis. She’s officially a chronal criminal at this point and we’re taking no chances with her.” Turning to the rest of the landing party, Paris addressed everyone.

“We’re not in a rush here, people. We have time on our side, as they haven’t been here long and they don’t know how close behind them we are. So let’s use this time constructively. Find them, mark them and let’s see what they HAVE been up to, so that any damage they may have done we can work on undoing. Meanwhile, we monitor the situation. Sam, how is monitoring the locals going?”

A wave and some coarse mutterings from the Intel Chief coalesced into storm-filked glower, as he put the broadcast on speaker, and out came the voice of Mudd.

“When I think about all the children that aliens have personally murdered and chopped up and raped, I have zero fear standing up against them. Yeah, you heard me right. Aliens have come from afar, in their starships, and murdered human children, and raped human women, and even violated our livestock. The LIVESTOCK, people! What sort of cold, calculating and evil mindset comes up with that? Devils from space, I tellya, people. I just can’t hold back the truth anymore.”

"Well that's... a bit on the nose, but he's certainly stirring the pot," Rita looked over to Sonak with his sharply pointed eyebrows and elegantly tapered pointed ears. "He's rabble-rousing already. Try to find a way to jam that he won't notice, Chief Clemens... although I suppose his agent in the field is also his broadcast repeater and signal checker. Damn that man..."

''Our shuttle is equipped with a class V probe for multiple assignments,'' he reminded her. ''Launching it and deploying it as a satellite network, we can jam multiple signal sources simultaneously without alerting the extradimensional invaders below.''

From the helm, Dox's perpetually anxious stomach tightened into a familiar knot. Even before she had surgery to restore her Romulan appearance she suffered from racism and prejudice on Earth and even at the academy and to hear Davo Mudd stirring up xenophobia here, to taint the arrival of this era's Vulcans in just nine days had the perturbed pilot concerned. But she kept those fears to herself as she maintained her professional demeanor at her station all the while, subtly checking her freshly extended hair to make sure her makeshift disguise was still in place.

Sonak was pensive for a moment, then he turned to Rita.

''Commander; jamming their signal would eventually alert them to our presence. And any jamming can eventually be countered. However, if we were to substitute our own transmission to theirs, convey the exact opposing message that he is transmitting, he might not realize that his campaign of fear does not have the effect intended; and even that, not until he comes into actual direct contact with the local populace.''

“Hmmmm…anti-propaganda. Inventive solution as always, Mister Sonak. Sam, think you can handle that one?” Paris delegated. While the inspiring speech was definitely in her wheelhouse, delegation was important. And who better to manage an information campaign to counter a misinformation campaign than the Hera’s resident spook.

“Meanwhile, let’s firmly establish where our principal players in the drama are, what they are doing and what’s happening around them. Let’s get those scans running, and see what the water’s like before we jump in.” Paris ticked off the points. “Mudd, Muddborg, Cochrane…. Ah, what was the name of that woman who was helping him?”

From the helm, Dox called up a research file she had been studying for the mission. "Sloane, Commander. Lily Sloane was listed in the report from the Enterprise-E as Cochrane's confidante. I've got a picture from those records." While the red-headed Romulan's job was pilot, she was known among the crew for exhaustively reviewing all the Hera's section reports, personnel files, and mission research.

“Excellent, thank you, Miss Dox. Let’s narrow our search to monitoring the historical personages while we formulate our plan. It’s interesting to me that Clio Mudd is running with her shields up… can someone tell me what she’s doing in a bar at… local time for Bozeman, please?” Again, Rita Paris was seldom the officer with the answers. She was the one with the relevant questions.

Dedjoy piped up with the requested information. "Nineteen hundred? Sensors indicate roughly a dozen people and liberal libations. There also seems to be some sort of audio disturbance in the building. I think I can get a sample of it..." After a couple moments and some tinkering, the sounds of Roy Orbison's Ooby Dooby came blasting through the runabout's intercom, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the doll-faced android.

"No idea. See what you can do to filter out the background noise. We probably need boots on the ground, but I don't want to tip our hand- they don't know we're here, and I want to know the full extent of what they're up to before we make our move. So, for now, we use the wonder of the sensors available to us, and deploy the class V probe in orbit to bolster our capabilities. We can collect on the way out of system, or to self-destruct if we exit the system."

"Although one thing I want to make clear- if the opportunity comes and Muddborg switches to camouflage, beam her, Miss Dedjoy. Standing order. Mister Sonak can beam down to make a compelling neuralyzer explanation and we can do damage control as we have to, but if you get a shot at Cleopatra Mudd, you beam her directly her into stasis- understood?" Paris was stressing the point she knew, but a lot hinged on capturing the cyborg Mudd. Alone and without what amounted to a shapechanging one-conwoman army in this day and age, Davo Mudd's plans would likely alter drastically.

"Understood, Commander. The stasis unit is prepped and ready and there's no way she's losing me." Ila was determined to make sure the conwoman was secured as tightly as possible if for no other reason than to prove that her own mad science was far superior.

"Excellent," Paris replied with a smile, then she turned to address the entire crew. "For now, we work in shifts, monitoring the situation on the surface, assembling a picture of just what's going on down there, and figuring out to unscrew up time without screwing it up worse. When something changes- either we have a firm idea of what's going on down there, or-"

The cybernetic captain's yeoman Dedjoy beeped with delight as her fingers danced across the panel. "Walked into the back alley to camouflage herself, so no witnesses and..." The sound of the transporter activating came from aft, and Dedjoy's doll face was underlit by the control panel. As her fingers danced across the control interface at an inhuman speed, her fingers and wrists were a blur, though the rest of her was moving normally. "She's arguing with the transporter signal, trying to redirect it with a recall signal from their ship's transporter... oh no you don't...!!"

"I suggest you cross circuit A to circuit B, '' Sonak suggested.

"Good suggestion, but I'm running circuit B in parallel already. Crossing it to circuit C and adding in the backup buffer..." with a couple more seconds of struggle, Dedjoy clicked her tongue. "She's trying to send a feedback pulse. We know how to deal with that, don't we?" Without hesitation, she fired up the secondary deflector and charged one of the transporter antennas to deflect that feedback pulse right back at her.

"BAM!" With a few last flurries of motion from her artificial hands, Ila completed the transport. "Knocked her ass out and transport is complete! She's sleeping safe and secure in the stasis pod. On top of that, in six minutes, I can use the displacement drive to beam her and up to two others back to the Hera if we want." With a satisfied grin, she turned around and nodded to Commander Paris. "Commander..."

"Well done as always, Miss Dedjoy. All right people..." Paris turned to address the landing party again. While many missions required a lot of legwork, this one seemed to be precision and timing= at least, so far. "Now all we have left is one loud shock jock who's got an angle to change the universe, but his ace in the hole is out of the picture. Now he'll get desperate, or he'll try something new- let's see which. Petty Officer V'nus, guard that stasis tube. A lot can happen in six minutes, and I don't want any unpleasant surprises. So far so good, crew."

To Be Continued...