Outer Limits

[Cmdr JFarrington 0]

Personal Log, Stardate 5108081.0

Cmdr JFarrington, MD

USS Manticore

 

Outer Limits

 

Jami Farrington had been enjoying her hours of quiet, a rare commodity in Black Ops. The events on Negen Prime followed by Admiral Windom’s confiscation of all things mission-related had taken its toll on her and the rest of the crew. Thankfully their next assignment was on the edge of known space, some 30 hours away at maximum warp, so they had taken that time to recoup their losses, psychologically speaking. Many had enjoyed a good night’s sleep for the first time in what seemed like eons. Now they were on their way to the galactic rim for they knew not what.

 

And Jami preferred it that way – the not-knowing – as short-lived as it might be. There was something to be said for blissful ignorance.

 

But after the umpteenth filing and buffing of her nails, she gave in. Leaning towards the command chair, she whispered to Atragon, “Matter of utmost urgency?” That’s what their orders had said. She remembered that much, anyway. Their swift departure from Negen Prime was not a cover-up; they were urgently needed elsewhere. Or so they had been told. She gave her nails one last buff and began idly tapping the file on the arm of her chair.

 

He watched her for a minute. “Do you want to know, or not?” he whispered back.

 

She sighed. “Should I want to?”

 

“You will soon enough.”

 

“Then, let’s keep me ignorant for a few more minutes and let me enjoy this blissful ignorance,” she said just before a tactical alarm signaled the presence of another Black Ops ship in the vicinity. Jami began to tap the file against her thumb.

 

“Admiral, approaching another ship,” said tactical officer McFly. “It’s the USS Dark Star. They’re in a holding pattern. Very suspicious.”

 

Jami stopped tapping her thumb and glanced at Atragon, who didn’t seem the least bit concerned by that ship’s presence.

 

“What do we have on Dark Star?” he said.

 

This time Margaux Roget answered, “Special Ops, Admiral. Excelsior Class.”

 

“Just blink the running lights at them, Matt. They’re part of why we’re out here.”

 

Jami tensed. A few minutes later came another alarm. This can’t be good.

 

“The Babylon,” said Atragon. “Right where she’s supposed to be.”

 

Babylon? Adrian Wolfe? Jami dug her fingernails into the armrest.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” began Atragon as he entered a data crystal into his console. “you may have thought we had been sent into a remote corner of space as a punishment for Negen Prime.” Manticore took a new heading. “That is very far from reality. We were, actually, at the wrong place at the wrong time for Negen and never should have been part of that event. That doesn’t' make it right or clear, but it is... above our pay grade.”

 

He pulled the command console close and began to read their orders aloud.

 

“Remote sensor arrays have detected what appears to be the opening and closing of either a Borg conduit or a hole caused by travel through a quantum slipstream. The area of space in which it is detected has been declared off limits by Starfleet until further data is gathered. So far no vessels have come through this ‘opening’ and the opening seems to be changing location periodically, almost like someone is probing that area of the galaxy for weak points.”

 

Here he paused a moment, letting the information sink in. Several on the bridge exchanged glances, some muttered speculation.

 

“Starfleet is at threat level orange,” Atragon continued. “Several other Black Ops vessels have been dispatched to the areas where the opening has appeared and Manticore has been dispatched to the area where, according to scientific projections, the opening's next appearance is most likely to happen.”

 

At that Atragon settled back from his console and glanced around the bridge. “This is why we have ‘bumped’ into the Dark Star and the Babylon out here. Fleet headquarters had mobilized all of us over one fear – invasion.”

 

“And we’ve drawn the short straw?” said Jami, her fingernails now firmly riveted into the upholstery.

 

“I would say that all of these ships have drawn the short straw. Who knows where – or if – this hole will appear again?”

 

“Borg?” asked Margaux.

 

“The Borg have never been subtle, they haven't needed to be.”

 

“They’re sure it’s artificial and not a wormhole?” said Matt.

 

“They know what a wormhole looks like. They have very strong suspicions it is artificially produced. And it’s very large – large enough for ships to come through. Every time a ship has launched a probe, the hole has closed. We are all supposed to prepare a probe and have it on standby, so if we encounter the opening, we can launch into it before it closes again. And if a ship comes out of it – we aren’t here to throw it a party.”

 

“But there will be fireworks, right?” said Matt. It seemed to Jami that Matt McFly was a little too eager for combat. She hoped it wasn’t in response to his frustration over Negen Prime.

 

Atragon turned to Matt and grinned. “That may all depend on you, Matt.”

So much for blissful ignorance.