Into the Wormhole

Posted on Sat Feb 23rd, 2019 @ 9:20pm by Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Petty Officer 2nd Class Ila Dedjoy & Az'Prel

Mission: Recovery Trek
Location: DS9, Bajoran Wormhole, Gamma Quadrant
Timeline: 2396

On pad 12 of the main flight deck of the U.S.S. Hera, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox was busy at work preparing the Mustang-Class Runabout, Bast, for flight. She would be piloting a mission into the wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant and was running a complete systems diagnostic and pre-flight check before Commander Rita Paris arrived. As always, as soon as Dox was informed of a mission she preferred to make 100% certain that the ship was both in perfect shape, but that the Flight Control Department was under control.

Today that meant assigning Ensign Mona Gonadie to take care of things while she was gone. The Bast was a standard Mustang-Class Runabout without any of the specialized technology or equipment of the Hera's main Runabouts which meant a standard LcARS control panel and standard armament. It was the Runabout chosen when the Hera didn't want to draw any extra attention to itself or incite any possible hostility. As they were scheduled to rendezvous on the other side of the wormhole in the Gamma Quadrant with a Dominion ship, they wanted to be as unassuming as possible.

"Lieutenant Dox to Dock Master. Bast systems are green for launch, awaiting flight crew. Please confirm departure status when ready, thank you." Dox spoke to the computer as she waited for the rest of the crew for this mission. The First Officer, Commander Rita Paris would be leading the sojourn along with Dox, Yeoman Ila Dedjoy, a security officer and the Hera's guest: A Changeling in a stasis pod, to be returned to their people.

"...because we must be diplomats as well as security officers, Miss S'rina. If you save the ambassador from the sniper but he breaks off relations with the Federation because you sat on him and said, 'Stay down, you fool!' then you didn't succeed in your mission. As Security we must be diplomatic, firm, but friendly and seemingly accommodating up to a point." As they crossed the flight deck, Rita Paris was lecturing the dark-skinned Klingon security officer. Both were clad in gold uniforms, Paris' of another age and S'rina's modern. But whereas Paris was a collection of exaggerated curves, the Klingon woman's physique was thick and powerful, yet still quite feminine with a mass of unruly curls cascading behind her back, restrained in a traditional Klingon weave wrap.

"Being direct saves time and energy," the Klingon woman countered, but Paris cut her off.

"Following orders and not arguing with your superiors will get you further. I hear you, and you aren't wrong, Miss S'rina. But diplomacy and a phaser will get you a lot further than a phaser and barked commands more often than not. Good day Miss Dox- finished with the preflight checklist?"

When she had been the chief helmsman, and later chief flight control officer, Rita had been obsessive about being the first one on the scene and insuring that everything was checked off and ship shape for the mission. These days she was first officer, and head of Security, so she had other worries on her mind. Now she could show up at 21:52 for the mission launch at 22:00 hours, and she took advantage of it.

Turning slightly, Dox replied as she flipped switches at the helm. "Aye Commander. All systems are green and ready for take off awaiting final crew and cargo."

"Then where is our delightful Miss Dedjoy, with our lost soul who doesn't even realize they're going home today?" Paris asked good-naturedly. After all, they were in no rush, and the changeling was in stasis in what amounted to a thermos. "I suppose it might be rude to hand them over in that manner, but considering it beats the hell out of a Starfleet prison sentence for kidnapping and impersonating Starfleet personnel, better they awaken again in the bosom of family as it were."

"More of that diplomacy of which you speak, Commander?" Oetty Officer S'Rina asked pointedly.

"Precisely, Miss S'rina. Safety of our crew is first and foremost on this mission, and the diplomacy on the other end can be what they choose," Paris patiently explained. "But we are not being hostile nor mistreating the prisoner, nor are we taking on the role of re-adapting them to the current situation. We're on a mission of mercy- they have been trying to make their way back to the Gamma Quadrant, and we are literally delivering them there. So hopefully all will go smoothly. If not, guess why you're here?"

"Mayhem?" the Klingon expressed, planting her fist into her palm hopeful of precisely that.

"Precise mayhem applied at the precise moment for effect- which can sometimes just be a bluff. On your way, Petty Officer, that's the way," the buxom blonde bombardier shooed the larger woman up the steps into the runabout. "We are prepared, now we will adapt to the situation as it unfolds. Miss Dox, the stick is yours on this one- I would prefer to be a copiloting sightseer for my first trip through a stable wormhole."

"Aye, Commander. Looking forward to it myself." Dox replied.

As if summoned, Yeoman Ila Dedjoy appeared from a side entrance near the runabout, a small stasis chamber clutched tightly in her hands rather than her usual PaDD. On either side of her were security guards that escorted her all the way to the Bast and as soon as she was secured inside, they nodded and dismissed themselves. Now sitting at the science and operations station, she tried to relax with a deep breath, but failed.

"Commander..." Dedjoy started off, still clutching the stasis container with the changeling inside. Normally she wouldn't think twice about speaking up, especially having the Captain's ear like she did, but with so many around she thought better of it and decided to stick to protocol. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Yeoman?" Paris turned to regard the young woman, noting her discomfort, and the protocol was unusual. "Excuse us for a moment- we won't be long," Paris explained, sending the pilot and the security officer out of the runabout, then when they were alone, turning to regard the scientist. "Permission granted, Yeoman Dedjoy. What's on your mind?"

Ila swallowed hard, clearly nervous. "Another away mission. This time through a wormhole to the other side of the galaxy and without body armor to meet with one of the Federation's greatest enemies. To top it all off, I was chosen to carry a changeling, one of the most dangerous creatures in the known galaxy along the way. Can you promise me I'm not going to end up dead?"

Searching the large dark doll-like eyes of the haunted scientist, Paris remembered that the adventures upon which she engaged tended to terrify normal people, and as she herself was not so far removed from being the terrified young woman on such missions herself, she understood. When she spoke, she spoke softly and cautiously, making solid eye contact as she did so.

"I'm afraid I can't make you that promise, Miss Dedjoy. I would be a liar if I said I could guarantee that you weren't going to die on this away mission, or in your shower in your quarters tomorrow morning, or eating breakfast tomorrow. I'm not the one in charge of that cosmic scale, so I don't get to make that determination," Paris explained, dropping down to one knee to bring her to eye level with the seated scientist. "So I can't promise you that."

"What I can promise you is that I'd give my life to make sure the rest of you make it home alive and safe. And so would Petty Officer S'Rina. As would, I suspect, Lieutenant Dox. This is Starfleet- we don't make promises we can't keep. But I can promise you we'll do everything in our power to keep you safe and bring you home again." Paris placed her hand over that of the frightened young woman.

"With that said, you don't have to go. Your company and your insights are always welcome, as are your skills. But if you want to sit this one out... if you don't want to see the inside of the wormhole, have a face to face with an alien race and take a trip to the far side of the galaxy for a mission of mercy, to return a lost traveler to their people- I understand. Not everyone is cut out for this sort of thing, and there's no harm in being afraid." Her words were not harsh nor were they judgmental as she offered the young woman an out.

"But a very wise man once told me that bravery is knowing that a thing is dangerous, understanding that there is risk, seeing that it needs to be done- and choosing to face that fear. Knowing the odds and doing it anyway because it is the right thing to do- that's courage, Miss Dedjoy." Patting Dedjoy's hand, the courageous commander rose, offering the young scientist a smile. "And I think you have more courage than you give yourself credit."

"Sorry, ma'am. I knew it was a stupid question. It's just... I process the reports and... I don't want to end up like..." She left the rest of that thought unsaid and had to blink a few tears out of her large doll-like eyes, which for her, blinking at all was somewhat rare as it was, let alone crying or showing this much emotion.

"You won't. Not on my watch," Paris assured the geologist by trade.

With a nod and a few dabs at her eyes with a sleeve, she did her best to compose herself. "Thank you. I'll... The mission comes first. I'll make it, Commander. Thank you."

"For what it's worth, Miss Dedjoy, it wasn't so long ago I was the one trying not to run the other way when I was chosen to come on missions like this, and I spent far too much of it wondering what might go wrong. So I do understand... I honestly do. I promise you we will do everything in our power to keep you safe, just like you'd do everything you could to get us out of a jam. We support one another, Ila. That's Starfleet," Paris ended with a reassuring smile, clasping the young woman's shoulder and giving her a bit more time to compose herself before recalling the rest of the crew.

There was the assumption that the sharp-eared Romulan had most likely heard, but would stoically pretend to know nothing. If S'Rina heard, hopefully she had the good grace to keep it to herself, as Rita had no idea how sharp Klingon hearing was compared to other races of the galaxy.

"Thank you, Commander. That's very true. Starfleet doesn't leave people behind." Nodding, Ila did her best to recompose herself, gripping the stasis container in her lap a little less stressfully.

And while Dox's keen Romulan ears did indeed pick up the exchange, she waited outside with S'Rina quietly until Commander Paris recalled them so as to not let in that she had heard. Once recalled, the away team was quickly underway as the portly pilot deftly directed the Bast out of the Hera's main shuttle Bay and into the void towards the celestial majesty of the Bajoran wormhole.

In the Runabout, they had arrived in mere moments to the assigned coordinates as, with an overwhelming burst of light and color, space itself bloomed and opened before them.

"That really is lie looking into the eye of a god. That's a thermodynamic miracle of the universe right there," Paris muttered as the moved into the wormhole, glancing at the sensors as they entered. After all, the Bajoran wormhole had been explored many times by many sentients, but this was Rita's first time. Thus she insured the sensor logs would be recording. Because while all of this wormhole's capabilities and readings had been recorded aplenty, it was the extradimensional explorer's first time, and this was the stuff she lived for.

As the tunnel of light consumed them and the runabout Bast hurtled through a stable subspace corridor, Rita Paris watched the readings, then looked out the viewport in amazement. "To boldly go..."



Leaving the wormhole, they were greeted by the sight of a purple and grey arrowhead shaped cruiser and were immediately hailed, a female Vorta coming in on the call. "This is Vorta Verana of the Dominion hailing the Federation Starship Bast. We were told to expect your arrival and that you have a lost founder that has caused some trouble for you? We're here on diplomatic orders."

Bringing the Bast to a stop before the Dominion starship in a diplomatic posture, Dox turned to Paris. "Full stop, Commander. Comms at your discretion."

"Miss Dedjoy, we have confirmation of ID here? We didn't bring this poor soul all this way to hand them over to the wrong folks," Paris asked. After all, she might not know the players involved but Starfleet did, and she was determined not to create an incident by handing their lost lamb over to the wrong parties, whomever they might be.

Ila checked the comm codes with the ones she had been given by the Captain and committed to memory. "Confirmed, Commander. Dominion command cruiser 42971. Vorta Verana as expected."

Tabbing the key, Paris spoke clearly. "This is Commander Rita Paris of the Federation starship Bast. We do indeed have one of your wayward travelers that will be very pleased to have reunited with their people. How would you like to handle this?"

Vorta Verana smiled haughtily as they were known for and replied arrogantly. "My dear Commander Paris, I propose that I beam to your vessel... Alone of course... Confirm the safety of the Almighty Founder, and together, we beam back to the safety of my ship. Is that satisfactory to you?"

"This sounds most acceptable. Please stand by for our signal," Paris replied, then cut the channel. "All right, I haven't followed a lot of this whole culture, but as I understand it the Vorta revere the Changelings... they call them the Founders, and they literally created the races that serve them, correct? So handing over one of their gods in a coffee can probably isn't going to go over so well. Miss Dedjoy, please release our guest from stasis. Miss S'Rina, be on standby alert. Miss Dox, keep an eye on local space- I am not in the mood for surprises today."

Turning to the tactical sensors, Dox replied. "Aye, Commander. Currently, Cruiser 42871 and ourselves are the only things in sensor range. Monitor alarms are set to silent, but are in continuous scan."

"Ok... Now for the fun part..." Ila stepped out to the middle of the runabout and deactivated the stasis field and opened the canister, setting it on the floor. She then stepped back in an attempt to not be the first to be killed if things went wrong.

It took a few moments for the changeling to wake up and come oozing out of the stasis container, but before long they had coalesced into a form that was decidedly alien looking even to all of those assembled.

"You have awakened me from stasis? Where are we? Are you taking me to some laboratory to be studied or dissectred? Or is this to be my execution?" the lifeform asked. Their features were androgynous, and somewhat humanoid, more like an attempt was made to appear humanoid, yet falling short of achieving it. As if it were a mannequin brought to life.

"None of the above," Paris replied. "We've arrived at the Gamma Quadrant, and as we promised, we are delivering you to your people. You've made it home."

Taking in the view of the Dominion Command cruiser out the forward viewports, the eyes of the changeling grew wide as Dedjoy's, then they glanced about suspiciously before hissing, "Is this some sort of trick?"

"No trick- we kept our word, just as you kept yours to us." Tabbing the comm controls, Paris spoke to the Vorta on the command carrier channel. "Vorta Verana, the Founder is now prepared to receive their escort home. Please beam in at your convenience."

Only a moment later a female Vorta dressed in what would normally be considered a fancy bathrobe by most cultures beamed over using a Dominion transport beam. Ignoring the Starfleet personnel, she prostrated herself before the Founder in the manner of her people. "Founder. I am humbled by your presence. I have come to return you to your home, if you are ready."

The eyes of the changeling lit up with rapturous joy. After all the trials and misadventures and struggles, they had finally returned to the Gamma Quadrant, and soon they would rejoin with the Great Link once more. Turning to face the human who had penetrated their disguise and captured them, the changeling considered her.

"You captured me and reduced me to your mercy, yet offered me compassion, and made good your word to me. We will not forget this, Commander Rita Paris." they expressed to the anachronistic astronaut.

"Starfleet keeps their promises... I understand it some of you have names, some don't and... it's complicated. I guess I won't know you if we meet again?" Paris asked frankly. After all, it was a longshot that they would ever meet again. But life was long and the universe was often a smaller place than you'd think, in her experience.

"Should we meet again you will not know me, nor would a nomenclature or some identifier aid you in that, solid. The manner in which I am identified as an individual within the Great Link is nothing you could comprehend." The speech could have been condescending and haughty, but it was simply matter-of-fact, with a hint of bemusement. Not unlike Vaenym, she realized.

"But I will know you, for you surprise me, and that has happened very seldom with the solids. If we meet again, rest assured- I will know you." In this case, it could well have been spoken as a threat. But the oddly-shaped humanoid's tone was one of friendship, bordering on gratitude.

"Oh! One favor, maybe? Rita perked up, with a winning smile. "If you see our Lieutenant Vaemyn, please let him know that we still miss him back on the Hera, and that if you ever decide to send him back to our side of the galaxy, he's always welcome. If it's not too much to ask." Rita nodded to the changeling as the Vorta grew impatient and a bit flustered that the Starfleet thug spoke so intimately with a Founder.

"Founder. If I may..." The Vorta insisted a bit, indicating that they should be on their way soon.

Turning, the changeling nodded, then drew themselves up. "Take me from this place so that I may return home."

As the transporter took hold, the two faded from sight, and Rita smiled a funny little smile. "All's well that ends well. Let's get out of here before anything goes wrong, Miss Dox. Not so fast it looks like we're running away, but making a discrete exit, if you please."

With the sensors still clear of any other ships, Dox turned back to the helm as she replied. "Aye, Commander." Entering the coordinates, Dox turned the Runabout around casually but with intention as they began their return to the Wormhole.

As Ila sat back down, the stress visibly sloughed off of her as she relaxed. "That... Went a lot better than I expected. Now we just need to get home safe and sound."

As the runabout entered the wormhole, everything seemed to be going just fine. In fact, for three quarters of the crew it did. However, for Rita Paris, the nearly instantaneous trip through the wormhole was nothing of the sort. Instead she suddenly found herself in a somewhat dreamy version of the bridge of the USS Exeter. Around her were Kodria, Enalia, Dox, and the Captain of the Exeter, Michael Stuart.

Each one was blank faced and spoke something odd.

"You are linear like the Sisco."

"But you are not of this universe."

"You are like the Refugee."

"We have awaited you."

Eyes wide with wonder, Rita Paris turned about slowly, the lens flare so familiar to her from the USS Exeter bridge, yet different, with that intangible difference only evident in dreams that you cannot identify in the moment. "Galloping galaxies, you're them... the Prophets, the wormhole aliens.. Hello! I'm Rita Paris... I'm an explorer. Wait, the Refugee?"

Suddenly they were on the bridge of the USS Hera and the four were closer and in different, mirror universe style uniforms.

"The Lost Navigator is needed."

"She must guide the Refugee."

"We found the Refugee in her universe."

"That universe is no more."

"The lost navigator... Captain Stuart used to call me that," Rita marveled. "If your refugee needs a guide, I'll help... are they here, i can lead them back to my... uh, the reality where I exist when I am not here? This is so incredibly cool by the way, and I am really honored..." Rita muttered, as she so often did. In this case, the experience was singular, and it filled her with the wonder she felt whenever she witnessed the amazing and unique phenomenon of the universe.

The scene shifted again to that of an unfamiliar Miranda class bridge that had been modified with Andorian, Vulcan, Tellarite, and other various technologies. All four were now wearing Kelvin-verse uniforms and had one hand on Rita's shoulders as they spoke.

"We will send the Refugee with the Lost Navigator."

"The Refugee will not be alone."

"You are not alone."

"This is your home now."

With another soft flash, Rita was back in the runabout's chair as if no time at all had passed.

Yeoman Dedjoy perked up as something on her console caught her eye. "Commander, I'm picking up some sort of neutrino surge..."

That's when the Vulcan woman that had been placed inside the runabout with them collapsed from shock, hitting the deck with a thud. Her beehive hair and red, simple, antique, Klingon armor dated her as being from around Rita's time, but aside from that, her only identifying marks was three solid rank pips on the armor's shoulder pad.

Turning with a start, Dox exclaimed at the surprise visitor with a Rihan curse. "Hnave! There's no other ships in transporter range. What just happened?"

Up in a flash, Petty Officer S'Rina had her phaser out and covering the prone figure on the floor, looking to Paris for orders... orders which were not immediately forthcoming.

"The Prophets... they needed a lost navigator to guide a refugee home for them," Rita Paris declared in a somewhat distracted voice. "They said they had been waiting for me, and that they found the refugee in my universe that isn't there anymore..."

Snapping out of it, Paris held out a restraining hand to the security officer. "At ease, Miss S'Rina. She's a lost traveler, and she's likely going to be rather disoriented if she just got here from what looked like it might have been my era, but not my universe. What we have is questions, and a mystery... but until they prove themselves hostile, let's not make assumptions. On the other hand, if they leap to violence, you know what to do."

"Cripple them to insure they remember the fear of that encounter so they know to never raise a hand against us in the future?" S'Rina asked hopefully, saddened to see Paris' head shaking sadly. Sighing and rolling her eyes, the security officer restated. "Restrain without permanent injury and assess the motivation for the violent behavior and address it if possible, restrain until it can be successfully analyzed."

"Very good, Miss S'Rina. There may be hope for you yet," Paris smiled, moving down to kneel on the deck to check on their charge. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

"I can..." The Vulcan woman blinked a few times to try to clear her head. "You wear a Starfleet uniform... That means I'm in the mirror of my universe." Sitting up with a creak of her armor and a groan, she leaned against one of the bulkheads. "I am Az'Prel. Freedom fighter. I... I was trying to escape the destruction. A man named Nero destroyed most of the worlds of the Terran Empire as well as the Resistance worlds. Not long after that, everything started collapsing. Logic was denied... It was as if reality was being unmade. Eventually, I came upon a hole in space and I thought I had found a refuge. Now I am here. I know none of that makes any sense. Even to my ears, there is no logic to my words."

Nodding sagely, the first officer of a forgotten era raised her hand in the traditional Vulcan salute. "I'm Rita Paris, Starfleet. Welcome to the prime universe, Az'Prel... we come to serve."

Returning the Vulcan salute, Az'Prel almost cracked a smile of relief. "I am at your mercy, Rita Paris. All I ask is for refuge."

"We are currently en route to the USS Hera, a safe haven for lost travelers. Welcome to a new time, a new universe and safe harbor at last," Rita Paris offered in all sincerity. It seemed the Hera had attracted another wayward traveler, and it warmed the heart of the lost navigator.

The gold-clad commander knew she spoke out of turn, for the decision was Captain Telvan's, not hers. But the Captain was a collector of those who wandered, a rescuer of those in need. On the USS Hera, it was a proud tradition of which Rita was proud to be a part- after all, not so long ago, it had been her who was lost, yet found by the starship that attracted them all somehow. "Refuge granted, and more."

After all her travels in space and time, Rita Paris was filled with the surety that she had finally found her place in the universe. Right where she needed to be... on the starship Hera.