Message In A Bottle

Posted on Wed Sep 5th, 2018 @ 11:06pm by Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Sonak
Edited on on Wed Sep 5th, 2018 @ 11:06pm

Mission: Holographic Horrors
Location: The Kelvin Universe, USS Exeter, Ajilon Prime orbit
Timeline: 2268
Tags: T'hy'la, Kelvinverse, phone home

The security team had gone down in the shuttlecraft 'Maryanne' and 'The Professor', and had dug Commander Sonak out of the fallen research compound. He had thrown himself under a support beam when it fell, so he survived the earthquakes long enough for the rescue party to dig him out with phasers, prybars and muscle. Barely conscious, he demanded a communicator, then called to be beamed back to the Exeter. Chief Fingerman complied, and once back aboard, the commander took over the transporter controls, feverishly seeking the lost signal of the second officer. The transporter chief stood back and let the scientist work, until the Captain arrived to clasp his Vulcan friend on the shoulder.

"There's something you need to hear, Sonak," Captain Michael Stuart explained, holding up a communicator.

When the Vulcan spoke, his tone was calm but there was an underlying urgency to be detected. "Captain, the more time that passes the more the odds of recovery dwindle. I must-"

"Mister Sonak!" the captain snapped, and Sonak stopped at the sharp conversational turn. "You're coming with me, now, to Paris' office. Move it, mister!" The captain turned on his heel and marched out of the transporter room, and an order was an order.

Sonak knew without a doubt that Rita Helena Paris was not aboard the USS Exeter, for they were t'hy'la. He could sense her thoughts the range of the starship that was their home, and when she was imperiled, he knew from as far away as orbit, 1000 kilometers above the planet. She had pursued him and they had committed- she was his One. But she was not here on the Exeter, nor had he felt her on the planet below. So the captain's choices were puzzling to him, but he suspected all would be revealed in the course of a linear existence.

They walked in silence, as was the turbolift ride. Stepping out onto deck 3, the captain made the fast turn to the conference room he had allowed to be used as the chief helmsman and navigator's office, given that the woman did both those jobs as well as Second Officer. The door whisked open efficiently, and the duo were greeted with the organized chaos of their hardworking junior executive's life. The conference table buried under flimsies and PaDDs and alien bric-a-brac, the walls adorned with images of starships modern and old, and of admirals and captains current and historic. It was clean, and in a perpetual state of a return to that state, but messy. It clearly demonstrated the favoritism that Stuart showed their leggy blonde sidekick, because nowhere else in the fleet could Rita Paris' office pass inspection.

Gesturing to one of the empty seats opposite the desk, Sonak sat down in one as Stuart sat in the other. The chair behind the desk was empty, which made Stuart choke up a bit at the symbolism. Handing the communicator to Sonak, he turned it over so the somber scientist could read the inscription on the back.

LTCDR Rita Paris
Year 2395
Prime 1 Universe

"Rita," the handsome captain began, then he faltered a bit, bringing his fist up to place his knuckle against his lip. "Rita didn't rematerialize, Sonak. But this showed up a few seconds later, on the transporter pad where she was supposed to be. Just this. It had a tag to play the message recorded on it. I've listened to part of it, but.... well, you'd probably better hear it for yourself."

The curiosity over the situation was palpable, but Sonak was calm. He was, after all, kolinahr- the last of his line. Adjusting the controls, he tuned the device, then placed it on an empty spot on the conference table that served as the second officer's desk. Tabbing the playback key, he cocked an ear to listen.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris, of the starship USS Exeter, NCC 1706. If you have somehow received this message and you are not aboard the starship Exeter, please turn this communicator with this message over to them via Starfleet Command.” There was a heartbeat pause, then, “Assuming this message arrived where and when it was supposed to, Lieutenant Commander Paris reporting, sirs."

It was her voice- Sonak's finely-tuned ears would know a variance, a subtlety lost in reproduction or manipulation. But this was his subordinate, who had not rematerialized from whence he beamed her. This was Rita Paris, who accepted all his limitations and alienness and freely shared with him her human passions without ever complaining over his own lack of them. Which was something he had never thought a human female could have accomplished- another lesson for him about the infinite diversity in infinite combinations his people were so proud of having as a philosophy.

"So apparently I hit the triple word score for transporter accidents, sirs. I'm alive, and living in the year 2395, in a universe like the one Nero came from, but apparently Romulus is intact here. They said they call theirs the Prime Universe, but that’s what the universe Nero was from was called. So as a variant I’m officially naming this dimension Prime 1 Universe. So there's that."

"There’s a lot that I can't tell you about the future. Not that it would matter if I did, because it isn't your future. Different dimension, different evolution of technological advancement according to need and ability. But future technologies and such... they were working on a communicator that looked and scanned like mine that would be two way, but I felt this was the right way to go. It would be great to be able to talk to home, it would, because I miss the ship and the bridge and you guys." Paris' voice wound up a bit there, and when she spoke next, there was more than a hint of a plaintive wail to her tone. "But I’m really marooned, sirs. So this is my message in a bottle... we're trying to send you my communicator, with my last report back to my c-command."

At this, there was a bit of a squeak, a choke and a sniffle. When the casual report continued, the young woman's voice was considerably less steady.

"I'm on a starship, a very customized Starfleet vessel of the period. The USS Hera. Captain Telvan and a few of the scientists onboard are the ones worked out how to send this to you. This communicator has the spatial, dimensional and chronal coordinates for where I am, today, right now- well, right after I finish recording this. If you can ever work out how to come get me, this is where I am. I gave you a chronospatial map with a tiny little blip of an X on it. I don't know how you can breach dimensions and control the outcome nor travel in time- well, actually I learned a little about BUT never mind, just..."

"Captain, Commander? If this works and you figure out how to find me, you'll be there right after we send you this communicator. Assuming you hit the timespace dimensional mark. But if you aren't there when I walk out of here, it's, y’know, okay. It's ruh-really okay. I know you did your best. Captain Stuart, I'm going to have to request a, uh, a transfer to the USS Hera, NCC-79010, sir.”

“Commander Sonak? You did everything you could to save me, I know you did. And you did save me- you beamed me across a dimension and into the future, but you saved me- I'm okay. I've made a few friends, and I have my job, and I'm still in Starfleet, so it's... okay."

There was a pause, then Paris' voice returned, squeaky and high.

"Captain, that's my report. With your indulgence, if you wouldn't mind, could I please have a word alone with the Commander? Call it a last- uh, call it a transfer request. Oh, and if I don't make it back, please take my autographed picture of Admiral Archer. I want you to have it, to remember those who went before. Thank you sir- it has buh-been an honor serving with you."

A long pause began then, and Michael Stuart found it difficult to see through the tears. But they'd get her back. Paris was a clever girl- she had figured out how to get them her coordinates, then he would by god get her back onboard, safe and sound. He made himself that promise in that moment, leaving her office that he would eventually order packed up and recycled.

The autographed portrait of one of the great founders of Starfleet, the last gift Michael Stuart would receive from a missing in action shipmate would hang in his ready room, then his admiral’s office, then his study in his retirement. In time he would pass it to his son, along with the story of little 8 year old Rita Paris boldly declaring to Admiral Archer himself that someday she was going to be a starship captain, too. Apparently the old man had laughed, then autographed his official Starfeet portrait 'To Captain Rita Paris”.

“Thank you sir- it has been an honor serving with you.”

They were the last words the Starfleet siren would ever say to him. Often in the future, the admiral would repeat the message, thinking of his lost navigator- his conscience, his pilot, his friend.





As Sonak waited patiently, the pause ended when the one way message asked, "Is he gone?"

Simulating the conversation, as it could possibly be their last, though nonsensical, he felt somehow appropriate. "The Captain is gone. You may proceed, Miss Paris."

There was a sharp intake of breath, then a heavy sigh. "I think I'm really stuck here, Sonak. They managed to put me back together and figured out my point of origin, but the power required to do something like ship me back is astronomical, even for these power systems. Just sending my communicator home will be a huge undertaking. I'd include the notes and schematics on how we'll do that, but apparently someday they come up with temporal accords that say we shouldn't pollute the timestream like that. So hooray, I have access to incredible technologies but I can’t tell you about them because we’d be polluting the timestream. I wish I could help more, but you have to work this out on your own."

“The polluting effect has already occured twice; with your disappearance from our timestream, and your appearance in this other timestream,” Sonak stated dryly out loud. “If such a temporal prime directive is to be followed, your absence here and your presence there are obviously both anomalies and correction is mandatory. There are two possibilities; either their reasoning is faulty… or there is an agenda at work here. In this latter option, it is an agenda I am not bound to follow.”

As the Vulcan first officer spoke, the recording said nothing, as if the appropriate response time was somehow intuited. When he was through, the recording of Rita spoke up again.

"Beyond all of that... I miss you, Sonak. I miss hearing you and feeling you and laughing with you, well not with but... I miss you." There was a pause there where he knew that statistically she was most likely making her 'too ugly crying to talk' face. "I'll miss you for the rest of my life, for however long I live. You are the perfect man for me, and I love you. Please, if you can't rescue me, it's all right. You are a great man of your people, and they need you. Stop chasing around the galaxy and go help your people, lead them to new philosophies, and help them embrace a new way of life amongst the stars."

"Uh, unless you CAN rescue me, then we're totally staying in Starfleet. Like, you know, keep at it as a hobby, just don't let it become your sole obsession." At that, Rita barked a laugh. "What might very well be my last message to you, and I can't even get that right.”

“There are always… possibilities,” he simply said, eyes afar.

Another pause, and when she spoke next, she had leaned in closer, as was evident by the slightly increased volume of her voice. Most likely the communicator was sitting on a desktop, and she had folded her hands to rest her chin upon them.

"I have always believed in you, Sonak of Vulcan, last of the kolinahr. I trust you- I always have. Those were the last words I ever spoke to you, and I still mean them. If it can be done with modern science, you will find a way, and I will see you again. It's been two months now, and it still hurts... it hurts a lot. But if you aren’t there when I walk out of here, then I will have to learn to live without you. I will, because I can’t spend the rest of my life hoping for rescue. I'll remember your lessons and how much you believed in me."

"I'll always carry that part of you within me, just as a part of me will always be with you. Your katra is strong, and I will remember you, always."

"Peace and long life Sonak, my love." Then there was a choked sob that followed that, then silence as the message ended.

Offering the traditional response to the Vulcan greeting as a greeting or parting was a social faux pas, one that had been a private joke between the two of them throughout their service together on the Exeter. Upon hearing it, he offered his usual response, "Live long and prosper, Rita Paris."

In each, the other had found someone unbelievably precious, and both counted themselves incredibly fortunate to have the other in their lives. He had grown accustomed now to the torrential flood of emotions that carried her thoughts to his own, like a tide bringing in crashing waves upon a reef. And just as a reef, he simply stood there and molded the flow over and around him just like the power of the tide molded him without ever dislodging him. In fact, he often conveyed this most alien image, as Vulcan had small and rather tame oceans compared to those of Earth, as a mind technique for her benefit.

Often people would draw strength from one another, and joined couples tended to support one another well. In their case it was rather a literal sharing, as he remembered Rita sharing her excitement of his promotion, soon to be taking command. Of her excitement over her own promotion, of how happy she was to be alone with him and free to express it. All of which filled him with vital, bracing exhilaration. Even as he shared his calm stoicism, logical perspective and the wisdom of ancient philosophies with her, calming her troubled mind. As they came together each was filled with optimism... the determination that life was an amazing and wonderful journey which together they shared.

The problems she had when she shared them with him were not gone, she was simply no longer anxious nor fixated upon them. The brutal tension that he carried almost unknowingly eased when he felt the touch of her mind and her body, as her fingers stroked his own in the ancient ritualistic fashion of his rare and scattered people. This was perhaps the greatest gift of their love for one another... the confidence that they could overcome any obstacles and circumstance together.

No longer together.

Less than an hour now she had been gone from his life, yet Rita Paris had already lived for two months in a distant future, in another dimension. Without him. Alone and afraid, wounded by his loss with no one to counsel her, he feared for her.

Without her, he realized the most important part of his life was gone.

In the same moment, he realized that he should do something about it.

Furthermore, he realized that he could do something about it.

In point of fact, he had a number of ideas about just how he would do something about it.