Star Trek: Dark Remnant CH-2

Posted on Tue Jun 11th, 2024 @ 3:39am by Lieutenant JG Kate Kono
Edited on on Tue Jun 11th, 2024 @ 5:54am

Mission: Man & Machine
Location: USS Aphelion
Timeline: Between episodes (Mini Novel)

Flickering screens cast an unsteady glow across the briefing room, shadows dancing along the walls like ethereal specters. Ensign Kate Kono's fingers deftly navigated the holographic display, pulling up schematics and logs of a ship alien to their databases—a ghost vessel with propulsion technologies beyond their understanding. Lieutenant T'Rel stood beside her, his Vulcan features impassive yet eyes betraying a glimmer of concern.

"Ensign," T'Rel began, his voice even, "the energy signatures are consistent with a warp drive, but these fluctuations..." His pointed finger traced the erratic patterns on the screen.

Kate nodded, a frown creasing her brow. "It's like nothing I've ever seen. If this is what caused our displacement, we could be dealing with forces that defy conventional physics."

"Speculation without evidence is illogical," T'Rel cautioned, but there was an undercurrent of agreement in her tone. They both knew that they were in uncharted territory.

The door slid open with a hiss, and Captain Eman Braddock strode into the room, his presence commanding even as his uniform seemed to hang heavier on his frame than usual. His eyes found Kate immediately, dark and accusing.

"Ensign Kono." His voice boomed, each word a thunderclap of condemnation. "Your actions have cost us two crewmen. Their blood is on your hands."

Kate stiffened, her resolve hardening. "Sir, with all due respect, without my—"

"Enough!" T'Rel intervened, the stoic mask briefly slipping to reveal a flash of protective fervor. "Captain, it was Ensign Kono's quick thinking that prevented a total catastrophe. We owe her our lives."
Braddock's gaze flickered between them, his jaw set as if chiseled from stone. "Be that as it may, we're a month or more out of our galaxy's reach.

When we engaged the alien ship, we tore through subspace. The fabric between realities is frayed because of us."
The weight of his words settled over the room like a shroud. Kate felt it as a tangible pressure on her chest, a sense of doom that threatened to choke her.

"Sir, the hull integrity is degrading," T'Rel continued, his voice measured
despite the severity of their situation. "We can't fully assess the damage while we're caught between realms, but it appears to be a slow deterioration. If we can navigate back to familiar space, we may yet preserve the ship."

"Preserve the ship?" Braddock's laugh was hollow, devoid of any mirth.
"We're adrift in a cosmic sea with no stars to guide us, Lieutenant. Our reality is unraveling at the seams. How long before sanity itself begins to erode?"

A cold silence followed, broken only by the hum of the ship's systems—a lullaby of despair. In that moment, Kate realized the full gravity of their predicament: trapped not only in space but also at the edge of madness, the unknown stretching before them like an abyss.

The briefing room felt like a crypt, its walls closing in with each breath as Kate stood firm, her gaze locked with Captain Braddock's. "Sir, the propulsion system of the alien craft," she began, her voice a thread of steel, "it may have played a role in our displacement."

"Displacement?" The word sliced through the tension, Braddock's eyes smoldering embers of grief and rage. "You call being torn from our galaxy a mere displacement?"

"Captain, we're presenting facts." T'Rel's voice was the calm in the storm, but even he couldn't quell the tempest in Braddock's soul.

"Your 'facts' cost us lives!" His accusation hung heavy in the air, a guillotine poised over any semblance of order remaining aboard the USS Aphelion.

"Captain, if not for Ensign Kono's actions—" T'Rel attempted to interject, but Braddock raised a silencing hand.

"Enough. I've heard your defense of her. But you," he pointed at Kate, his finger a spear of condemnation, "are an omen. A harbinger of this chaos. I want you out of my sight for the duration of this mission."

"Understood, sir." Kate's response was a mask of professionalism, though inside, her spirit reeled from the blow.

"Dismissed," Braddock spat, turning away to face a viewport that offered a vista of their eerie limbo—space, yet not space.
As the door sealed behind them, the ship's corridors loomed like the gullet of some slumbering leviathan. Kate could feel it—the unease spreading through the crew like a virus, unseen yet palpable. She exchanged a glance with T'Rel, both acknowledging the silent scream building in the bowels of the Aphelion.

"Did you see Jensen earlier?" T'Rel whispered, his words barely carrying over the hum of the deck plates. "He claimed the shadows were moving against the rhythm of the ship."

"Shadows don't move," Kate countered, but doubt gnawed at her resolve.

"Ensign Weaver," T'Rel spoke into his communicator, "monitor the crew. There are... sightings. Things that shouldn't be."

"Will do, Lieutenant," came the gruff reply, Ash Weaver's voice a bastion of security amidst the growing dread.

"Keep me updated," T'Rel instructed before signing off.

"We need to stay sharp," Kate murmured, her mind racing with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. They were beyond the known cosmos, at the mercy of unfathomable forces, and the ship—a beacon of humanity's ingenuity—was now a cage of uncertainty and fear.

"Agreed," T'Rel nodded, his Vulcan composure a thin veneer over the creeping horror that sought to unravel them all, crew by crew, thought by thought.

As they continued down the corridor, the whispers of madness echoed off the metal walls, a cacophony of paranoia and delusion that no amount of training could have prepared them for. They were adrift in a sea of stars gone dark, where reality itself seemed to bleed into the void.
It was only the beginning.




Kate's fingers danced over the holographic console, her eyes scanning the kaleidoscope of data that fluttered in the dim light of the engineering bay. The ship's vitals pulsed on the display, each heartbeat a grim reminder of their dire situation. Her breaths were shallow, eyes wide with focus as she sifted through the information for any sign of salvation.

"Dammit," she muttered under her breath, pulling up a 3D model of the ship's exterior. The lattice of the hull shimmered, revealing patches where the integrity had started to degrade—subspace's invisible maw gnawing at their only protection from the vacuum beyond. "This can't be good."

"Ensign Kono, report," boomed a voice over the comm system.
"Sir, there's evidence of erosion on the outer hull." Kate's voice conveyed a calm she didn't feel. Onscreen, red indicators flashed like divinations along the ship's schematic. "It's consistent with the subspace interference we've been experiencing."

"Understood. Maintain your analysis and keep me posted." The line went dead, leaving Kate alone with the unsettling silence of the bay and the ship's soft mechanical groans.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself against the creeping dread. "Hold together," she whispered to the ship, as much a plea as a command.
Meanwhile, T'Rel's silhouette was a statue of stoicism amongst the flurry of activity in Engineering. His orders were clear and concise, his team responding with practiced efficiency as they prepared to venture into the warp-infused void to reinforce the vessel's skin.

"Time is a luxury we do not possess," T'Rel stated, his voice cutting through the buzz of worried engineers. "Focus on the hotspots. We must preserve the infrastructure."

"Sir, the conditions out there..." one of the engineers began, but T'Rel's gaze silenced him.

"Are perilous," he finished for him. "Yet essential to our survival. Proceed."

As his team suited up for the external repairs, T'Rel turned his attention to the ship's historical database. He keyed in search parameters with rapid precision, his eyes flickering across the screen as he dove into the annals of spacefaring lore. Data scrolled like a river of lost knowledge, until fragments of reports emerged from the digital depths—tales of ships and crews gone mad, whispers of entities lurking just beyond the veil of reality.

"Curious," he murmured, her fingers pausing as she read a particularly harrowing account. "There appears to be a pattern."

"Pattern, Lieutenant?" a technician queried, overhearing her.

"Accounts of psychological distress, hallucinations, even sabotage... all linked to expeditions that ventured into the regions we now occupy." T'Rel's voice remained steady, though the implications of her findings sent a chill down the spines of those within earshot.

"Could this be what's happening to us?"

"An hypothesis that merits consideration." T'Rel's gaze lifted from the screen, locking onto the technician with a gravity that spoke volumes. "We must remain vigilant."

"Understood, Lieutenant." The technician nodded, his resolve fortified by T'Rel's unwavering presence.


Returning his focus to the database, T'Rel absorbed every detail, every fragmented report of the malevolent force preying upon the crew. A puzzle was emerging—a mosaic of madness and shadows that stretched across the cold expanse of space. And somewhere in that precipice of data lay the key to their lifeline—or their doom.

"Stay strong," T'Rel whispered, more to himself than anyone else. They would need all their strength for what lay ahead.

Kate's fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted the microscope, her gaze fixed on the sample of hull material that seemed to crumble before her eyes. The engineering bay's sterile light cast long shadows across the lab bench, giving the mundane a hint of the macabre. The slender young ensign leaned back and rubbed her dark almond eyes, her mind racing with the implications of what she was seeing: the integrity of their vessel compromised by an unseen, corrosive force.

"Kate," T'Rel's voice cut through the silence like a knife. He entered the lab, his face a mask of Vulcan composure, yet his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. "I have cross-referenced the ship's logs with historical data. Our situation is unprecedented, but not unique."

"Meaning?" Kate straightened, brushing a rogue strand of hair from her forehead.

"Meaning," T'Rel continued, tapping the datapad in his hand, "these shadowy figures are not figments of our imagination. They are entities—real, physical manifestations that somehow coexist within the tears between subspace and our reality."

A chill ran down Kate's spine, her thoughts drifting to the alien ship they had encountered prior to this nightmare. "The crew of the alien ship... do you think they suffered the same fate?"

"Highly probable," T'Rel conceded, his voice even but his eyes darkening.

"They may have been the first victims, ensnared by these... creatures."

"Braddock needs to know about this," Kate said, her resolve hardening.
"Agreed. I will request an immediate conference."

T'Rel strode out, leaving Kate alone with her thoughts, which swirled like the storm outside the ship's fragile hull.

Minutes or hours could have passed when T'Rel returned, his posture slightly deflated, an uncharacteristic sign of defeat. "Captain Braddock has dismissed my report," he said curtly. "He implied your involvement rendered the information irrelevant."

"Because of me?" Kate's face is flushed with anger and disbelief, her eyes wide and searching T'Rel's face for any sign of reason or understanding.

"That's absurd!"

"Indeed," T'Rel replied, his brow furrowing. "It is unlike him. His emotional response is... illogical."

"Emotional?" Kate echoed, fear knotting in her stomach. "You mean he's..."

"Compromised," T'Rel finished for her. "We must proceed without his sanction."

As they stepped into the corridor, the tension among the crew was palpable, a living entity in itself. Whispers skittered along walls that seemed to close in with each passing moment. Two engineers argued vehemently by a console, their faces twisted in rage and terror.

"Stay out of my head!" one shouted, shoving the other against the bulkhead.

"Enough!" Kate intervened, her voice slicing through the chaos. Kate wasn’t sure if her comfort zone was pushed by way of the cosmos around her that was eating the ship, or if it was because the crew was forcing her to act out of character to keep control of what little existence remained around them.

Kate's voice cut through the turmoil like a sharp knife, her words fueled by a mixture of fear and determination. The chaos around her seemed to push and pull at her, as if the cosmic forces were clawing at her comfort zone. And yet, despite the overwhelming pressure, she stood tall and commanded respect from the crew as she fought to keep control of their rapidly vanishing existence.

"We need to be united, now more than ever."

"United?" the engineer spat, his eyes wild. "We're lambs to the slaughter!"

"Control yourself," T'Rel commanded, stepping forward and locking eyes with the man. "Fear serves no purpose but to hasten our demise."

"Look at them," Kate whispered to T'Rel as the two engineers were separated, their anger simmering into sullen paranoia. "We can't let this tear us apart."

"Agreed," T'Rel said firmly, turning to her with a rare intensity. "We must remain vigilant, Ensign Kono. Protect each other."

"Vigilant," Kate repeated, clenching her fists at her sides. "And alive."
They exchanged a look that sealed their pact—a silent agreement that in a world gone mad, they would be each other's anchor. With a nod, they set off down the corridor, their steps synchronized, moving through the dimly lit passageway where shadows loomed and whispered of unspeakable things just beyond sight.

The sudden absence of light left the corridor shrouded in darkness, only the faint red glow remained, casting sinister shadows that seemed to dance and creep around them. The dim light illuminated the curves and pipes that made up the inner workings of the Aphelion, adding an eerie ambiance to the once familiar surroundings.

“We’re on backup internal, apparently.” T’Rel stated. “All power will be diverted to the warp core and life support for the duration.”
Kate's eyes scanned the dimly lit corridors, her gaze eventually settling on T'Rel. The red light cast an eerie glow over the crew, creating an otherworldly atmosphere. "Just great," Kate muttered with a somber tone, taking in the gravity of their situation.


***


Kate's breath condensed in the chilled air as she and T’Rel navigated the eerily silent corridors of the ship. The oppressive gloom seemed to swallow the light from their handheld torches, creating an atmosphere thick with dread. They moved cautiously, aware that each shadow could harbor a lurking nightmare.

"Here," T'Rel murmured, pausing by a sealed bulkhead door labeled 'Storage: Restricted Access.' His Vulcan composure was a thin veneer over his concern. "This is where the signal originated."
"Is there anyone alive in there?" Kate asked, her voice barely above a whisper, trying not to disturb the somber silence.

"Life signs are stable yet isolated," T'Rel confirmed, accessing the door's security panel.

The door slid open with a hiss, revealing a dimly lit room lined with shelves of equipment. A figure sat cross-legged in the midst of a circle drawn with what appeared to be salt. Her eyes were closed, a meditative expression on her face.

"Ensign Sadler," Kate addressed the figure, stepping into the room with caution. "How did you...?"

"Shh," Ensign Sadler interjected, opening one eye. "It can't hear us inside the circle. It's old—ancient, really—a ritual of protection."

"Protection from what?" T'Rel inquired, his scientific curiosity piqued despite the circumstances.

"From them," Sadler replied, gesturing vaguely to the space beyond her sanctuary. "I've been here since the incident. I saw what happened to the others who didn't... couldn't resist."

"Could this work for the rest of us?" Kate wondered aloud, her mind racing with the possibilities.

"Perhaps, if we're careful," Sadler offered tentatively.

"Then let's be meticulous," T’Rel decided, his eyes meeting Kate’s with resolute determination. "We'll need a larger safe zone."
They left Sadler to her protective circle, retracing their steps through the labyrinth of passageways until they reached a section used for emergency drills—a compartment designed to seal off and withstand significant damage.

"Here," Kate said, taking in the sturdy doors and reinforced walls. "This could be our sanctuary."

"Agreed," T'Rel nodded, examining the layout. "But we must act swiftly."
Together, they set to work. Kate directed some crew members to bring additional rations while T’Rel oversaw the fortification of the bulkheads. Others were tasked with setting up communication equipment, establishing a makeshift command center within the heart of their newly claimed haven.

"Make sure every seal is tight," Kate instructed, her voice echoing off the metal surfaces. "If these entities can breach physical barriers, we can't afford any weak points."

"Every protocol we establish must be followed without deviation," T'Rel added, programming the door's access panel to require multiple levels of clearance.

"Only those we trust," Kate affirmed, sharing a glance with T’Rel. "We can't let paranoia take root in here."

"Or worse," T'Rel acknowledged, the unspoken fear hanging between them like a specter.

"Let's gather everyone," Kate proposed, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We need to explain the situation and ensure they understand what's at stake."

One by one, the small group of trusted crew members filed into the secured area, their faces etched with exhaustion and terror. Kate and T'Rel stood before them, their backs straight, exuding a confidence they were far from feeling.

"Listen up," Kate began, her voice steady. "We believe we've found a way to shield ourselves—from the shadows, from the madness. This is our stronghold, and we will defend it."

"Strict adherence to our safety measures is paramount," T'Rel continued.

"Each of you has been chosen because we believe in your resilience, your ability to fight against the darkness encroaching upon our minds."

"Are we going to make it, ma'am?" a young ensign asked, his eyes searching Kate's for any sign of hope.

"We have to," Kate replied, her gaze unwavering. "We don't have the luxury of doubt."

"Then let's get to work," T'Rel stated, and the room filled with the sound of determined movement, the crew rallying to the task.
As the last of the supplies were secured and the final protocols established, Kate and T’Rel shared a brief moment of solitude amidst the controlled chaos. Their eyes met, the weight of responsibility heavy upon them, but also the glimmer of shared resolve.

"Whatever comes," T'Rel said, his voice low, "we face it together."

"Together," Kate echoed, her hand finding his in a rare moment of vulnerability. In the quiet before the storm, they fortified not just their sanctuary, but their very souls against the encroaching dark.


***
In the dim glow of the makeshift command center, a bank of monitors cast an otherworldly light upon Kate's furrowed brow. Data streamed across screens in relentless torrents, each figure and graph scrutinized with an almost feverish intensity by her and T'Rel. They were a bulwark of concentration amidst the silent hum of the ship's compromised systems.

"Could it be a pattern in the subspace fluctuations?" T'Rel murmured, his eyes never leaving the data pad in his hands.

"Maybe," Kate replied, tapping her own screen where lines intersected in jagged peaks and troughs. "But if we can't stabilize the propulsion array to withstand these stresses..." Her voice trailed off, the implication hanging heavy between them.

"Then we have to find another way through," T'Rel finished for her, the stoic resolve in his voice echoing around the fortified chamber.

They worked on, their minds racing against time, against the decay gnawing at the hull, against the creeping madness outside their haven. But as much as they wished it otherwise, the truth was stark – salvation lay in traversing the stars back to reality, back to sanity.

A shrill beep pierced the silence, shattering their focus. Kate's hand shot out reflexively to the comm unit, the distress signal stabbing at the dull quietude like a siren's call. T'Rel stood abruptly, his stance tense, as the message crackled through.

"Kono here," Kate said, her voice steel-clad calm despite the adrenaline spiking through her veins.

"Ensign... Kono..." The voice was breathless, choked with fear. "It's Crewman Li... he's... I found him in corridor nine. He's dead."

"Stay there, we're on our way." Kate ended the transmission, meeting T'Rel's gaze, which held a storm of unspoken dread.
The dimly lit corridor, known as corridor nine, was a desolate stretch of the ship. It seemed to be isolated from the rest of their sanctuary, tucked away in a forgotten corner. As they made their way through the labyrinthine passageways, the metal bulkheads loomed over them, their cold surfaces reflecting the eerie blue lights that lined the walls. The air was heavy and still, filled with the faint sound of distant machinery and occasional whispers that echoed through the corridors.

Kate couldn't shake off the feeling that something was lurking just beyond her line of sight. Shadows danced at the edges of her vision, disappearing whenever she turned to look. She couldn't help but quicken her pace, eager to reach their destination.

Finally, they arrived at a scene that made Kate's blood run cold. A crew member stood over the lifeless body of Li, his features contorted in horror.
Blood pooled around Li's twisted form, staining the pristine deck plates a deep crimson. The stench of death hung heavily in the air, but there was something else - an unexplainable presence that seemed to press down on them like a weight. Kate couldn't help but shiver as she felt it crawl along her skin.

"Did you see anything? Anyone?" Kate asked, kneeling beside the lifeless body, scanning for any sign, any clue.

"Nothing," the crew member stammered. "Just... just came across him like this."

Kate’s hand brushed against Li's, cold and stiffening, the finality of death's embrace unmistakable. She rose, her expression set in grim lines. "This wasn't an accident," she stated, the certainty in her voice belied by the quake in her core.

T'Rel was already scanning the area, tricorder in hand. "The perimeter alarms weren't tripped. Whatever did this got through without triggering a single alert."

"Which means they could be anywhere," Kate added, her mind reeling with the implications. The safe haven, their last vestige of control in the chaos, had been breached.

"Lockdown procedures," T'Rel commanded, his voice carrying the weight of command. "Double the watches, seal non-essential sections. We need to be tighter than ever."

"Understood," the crew member nodded, hurrying off to relay the orders.
As Kate and T'Rel retraced their steps back to the command center, the corridors seemed to narrow further, the darkness pressing in, eager to fill the spaces left by the light. Their sanctuary, once a bastion of hope, now felt like the eye of a storm – a deceiving lull before the tempest unleashed its fury.

"Whatever's out there," Kate whispered, more to herself than to T'Rel, "it's just getting started."

And with every step, every heartbeat, the darkness whispered back, hungry and relentless.


**


Kate's heart pounded as she stepped onto the makeshift stage in the command center, the hum of the ship's failing systems a haunting backdrop. The crew's eyes, wide with fear and uncertainty, turned to her for reassurance. T'Rel stood beside her, his Vulcan composure an anchor in the roiling sea of anxiety.

It soon became apparent that they had been lured away from the sanctuary for a reason. As the doors opened, even the Vulcan that stood beside Kate reacted as they looked into the room. Between each pause of complete blackness was the red emergency lights that illuminated the ship every other second for anyone left without a flashlight. There were at least twelve survivors in the room when they left.

Out of the twelve crew members, six lay motionless on the cold metal floor, their bodies contorted in twisted positions. A trail of dark red blood led from them to the air duct high above the room, a silent witness to the brutal attack. The remaining six were nowhere to be found, leaving behind an eerie emptiness that filled the air. The room was eerily quiet, almost as if time had stood still since the chaos erupted. Ensign Sadler couldn't help but let out a gasp of shock and horror at the sight before her.

Kate and T'Rel stood beside her in stunned silence, their tricorders still scanning for any signs of life. After a few moments, Kate solemnly placed a device on the doors and sealed them shut one final time, knowing that there was no longer any safety to be found within these walls. It was a harsh reminder that even in a supposed sanctuary, danger could strike without warning.

The haunting groans of the bulkheads echoed through the ship, a constant reminder of their desperate situation. Kate and T’Rel moved cautiously through the corridors, seeking shelter in someone else's crew quarters. Sadler had disappeared without a trace and the fear and confusion was palpable among the both of them. As they turned yet another corner, Kate couldn't shake the feeling that Sadler's vanishing act was just one of many mysteries aboard this cursed vessel.

Kate had expertly welded a sturdy steel plate over the air vent, rendering it useless and unnecessary after the emergency power kicked in. In the dimly lit quarters, T’Rel carefully placed a small light near the ceiling to offer some form of illumination.

“We should try and get some rest,” T’Rel suggested, gesturing towards the bed. Kate nodded wearily, her gaze falling on a portrait of a crew member that may not even be alive anymore.

"We need to reach Engineering or the Bridge and assess our progress back to the Galaxy," Kate stated firmly. "I know the captain is likely barricaded in there, but we need to gather information and these badges..." She tapped her combadge, expecting the usual beep of transmission, only to be met with a dull thud against plastic and gold, signaling their isolation from the rest of the ship.

T’Rel nodded and expertly removed a panel from the wall, revealing a hidden compartment. From it, he retrieved a sleek, black battery pack, its lights glowing softly in the dim quarters. Kate watched with awe as he approached the replicator, his movements graceful and precise. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration for his technical skills.

As if reading her thoughts, T’Rel began to replicate various items: four bags
of water, two medkits, and then...he started undressing. Kate’s eyes widened in shock as she watched him remove his uniform piece by piece, until he stood there completely nude.

Her shock turned into confusion as he calmly stated, “I require your clothing.”

Kate furrowed her brows and hesitated before reluctantly complying. As she undressed, her eyes couldn’t help but roam over T’Rel’s chiseled form. The replicator hummed to life again and soon replicated dinner and a movie at Kate’s request.

The Vulcan turned to face her with a deadpan look on his face. As if to explain himself, he placed his discarded uniform on the pattern replication platform built into the wall and had the system replicate a fresh one, complete with underwear. He then placed it neatly on the table next to the sofa that overlooked the endless void of space.
Kate blushed at the thought of being completely naked in front of her Vulcan companion but tried to reassure herself that it was only logical given their situation.

“There’s no need for you to replicate undergarments for me,” she said sheepishly.

T’Rel raised an eyebrow and looked her over once more before stating matter-of-factly, “Your socks are missing.”

Feeling foolish, Kate quickly kicked off her socks and added them to the pile of discarded clothing. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves as she climbed into bed under the sheets.
As they lay there in the dark, a strange tension hung between them. Finally, Kate couldn’t take it anymore and kicked off the sheets, followed by the rest of her uniform. T’Rel took inventory of the uniform, his expression unreadable.

“Your socks,” he stated simply, handing them to her with a slight quirk of his lips. Kate couldn’t help but smile back, grateful for the small gesture of humor in their otherwise serious situation.