Ad Astra :: Star Trek Fanfiction Archive ^{Beam me up, Scotty.}

Chapter Text

* * *

Lieutenant Titus Helvia entered her ready room at the commodore’s beckoning. He came to attention, was ordered at ease, and sat when instructed.

He was a towering slab of humanity, a man whose uniform did little to hide his especially well-developed musculature. He was tall, just under two meters, and his blonde hair was shorn stubble short. He had a heavy brow, deeply set blue-grey eyes, and a pronounced jawline.

Despite the fact that he was her Security/Tactical Officer and an expert in hand-to-hand and close-quarters combat, Helvia was also one of the gentlest human beings she had encountered in her career. He could break you in half almost effortlessly, but he would feel genuine regret for having had to do so. If he could avoid physical violence when restraining someone in the line of duty, he did so.

Trujillo leaned in, placing her hands atop the desk, fingers intertwined.

“There’s no easy way to say this, Lieutenant, so I’m just going to come out with it. Due to a series of raids by pirates believed to originate from Magna Roma, our squadron is being ordered to investigate. Part of our mission profile is to ferry an ambassador to your homeworld and attempt to open a diplomatic dialogue with their government. If that mission isn’t successful, we’ll be forced to hunt down the brigands and either capture or destroy them.”

Helvia digested this in silence for a good ten seconds before saying, “I understand, sir.” His expression had not changed one iota.

“I wanted to tell you in person, rather than have you find out in the midst of a senior staff meeting.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

An awkward silence followed.

She observed him closely and refused to allow the following hush to prompt inanities to fill that silence.

Trujillo cleared her throat, “As we’ve discussed previously, Lieutenant, I can only imagine the horrors you survived on that planet. There is no reason whatsoever for you to set foot on Magna Roman soil during this assignment.”

Helvia appeared to be choosing his words with care. “I appreciate your consideration, sir. However, if duty demands it, I must and will fulfill my obligations by beaming to the surface. I presume we will be sending a security escort with the ambassadorial party?”

“Oh, most assuredly.”

“Then it would be appropriate for me to accompany them. I cannot hide aboard the ship in orbit and expect my subordinates to take my place.”

She nodded. “Thank you. I trust you to know your limitations.”

Helvia glanced down at the five golden links of chain that he wore just beneath his Starfleet emblem combadge. He had received special dispensation from Starfleet to wear the symbol, the mark of the outlawed Children of the Son, a religious sect deemed apostate by the Magna Romanii government.

“It would be prudent for me to remove this prior to any contact with the Romanii, sir. It could result in unnecessary… tension during any encounter.”

“Fuck their feelings, Lieutenant,” Trujillo said in an even tone that nonetheless startled Helvia. He had seldom heard her use profanity. “These people just slaughtered a ship full of Starfleet personnel. I’m not especially concerned with their spiritual hangups.”

The merest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of the man’s mouth. “Understood, sir.”

“If, at some point during this mission, you change your mind about contact with the Romanii, please let me know. You will serve just as ably at my side as an advisor on local customs and potential strategies. The mission is my priority, but I also wish to honor your experiences… your losses… at the hands of these people.”

Helvia leaned forward, his inscrutable expression yielding somewhat to allow a sliver of discomfort to bleed through.

“Again, I’m touched by your consideration, sir. I find it necessary to point out that where this planet is concerned, I am as much victimizer as victim. I owned slaves before my family’s downfall, and I killed any number of good men and women in the arena during my time as a gladiator. I am not an innocent in all this. Magna Roma extracts a price from all its people, be they high-born noble or the lowest slave. If not for the collapse of my family’s political fortunes, I would have remained a wealthy dilettante, playing at sword games and drinking myself into oblivion.”

Trujillo took a moment to absorb that admission. “I believe I understand, Mister Helvia. Thank you for your candor. Nevertheless, my offer stands, should you feel you need it.”

Another awkward silence followed.

Trujillo sighed, then stood, prompting Helvia to rise. “You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.”

As Helvia exited, the ship’s executive officer, Commander Jadaetti Davula entered, a data-slate in hand.

The Bolian woman was of average height and had cobalt blue skin that seemed somehow even more prominent due to her baldness. A cartilaginous bifurcated ridge ran down the centerline of her body, dividing her facial features. Unlike some ethnicities on her world, she lacked the horizontal lines radiating outward across the top of her head from that central ridge. She had an open, expressive face, and bright hazel eyes.

“What do you have, Commander?” Trujillo inquired.

“Sir, we’ve received our departure orders and all ship’s personnel have been recalled from the starbase. However, we’re still missing our ambassador. Commander Glal mentioned that they were old friends, so I asked him to go and retrieve the ambassador. That was over two hours ago, and now Glal isn’t responding to comms.”

Trujillo had just resumed her seat, and she stared up at her XO, blinking. “You sent Glal… to locate the ambassador?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ambassador Dax?”

Davula cocked her head, smiling uncertainly. “Yes, sir. Am I missing something…?”

Trujillo dipped her chin, wincing as she rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and middle finger. “I’m sorry, Commander, this is my fault. I should have warned you in advance.” She presented a pained expression to the Bolian woman. “I’ll need you to go and get them. Find the loudest, grungiest, most disreputable spacer bar on the station. That’s where you’ll find them. They are likely exceedingly drunk. If you end up needing a security team, call me directly and I’ll arrange it. Do your best to keep it quiet, whatever happens.”

“On it, sir,” Davula said smartly, turning to attend to the duty immediately.

“Well,” Trujillo remarked to her now otherwise empty cabin. “We’re off to a great start.”

* * *

There was a round of applause as Lieutenant (junior grade) Rachel Garrett entered the briefing room. The unanticipated attention caused her to blush fiercely.

The woman was still in her early twenties and had recently allowed her shoulder-length reddish dyed hair to revert to its natural, darker auburn color. She stood approximately one-point-six meters in height, and carried herself with a serious bearing that belied her age. Garrett had a willowy neck leading to a well-defined chin, a pert nose, dark brown eyes, and sensuous lips gracing a mouth that while rarely seen to smile, on those occasions did so with radiance. The collar of her uniform undershirt and shoulder flash were the gray of the Sciences division.

“Congratulations on your first formal published paper in the Journal of Federation Astrophysics, Lieutenant,” Trujillo said, stepping forward to shake the younger woman’s hand.

Davula, standing next to the commodore was next in line to offer her compliments. “It appears all our time spent nosing around in nebulae and planetary rings finally paid off for someone.”

Garrett offered one of her uncommon smiles in response as she shook Davula’s hand. “So it would seem, sir.”

The rest of the senior staff offered similar tidings, proud that one of their own had distinguished herself and their ship so notably.

Trujillo called the meeting to order and took her seat, with the others following suit. The conference was broadcast via comms to Reykjavík’s escort vessels, the Akyazi-class scout Gol and the Miranda-class light cruiser, Zelenskyy, for the benefit of the senior officers of those ships in their own briefing rooms.

Seated next to the commodore in the space normally reserved for the XO was Ambassador Curzon Dax, one of the Federation’s foremost diplomatic experts. A member of the Trill species, Dax was a joined being, a humanoid paired with a slug-like symbiote that not only shared consciousness with its host, but which contained the memories of all its previous hosts. This gave the joined individual several lifetimes of knowledge and accumulated experiences.

Curzon was approaching his late fifties, a tall, thin man with a shock of unruly, tightly curled brown hair that was only now beginning to gray and recede. A pattern of dark blue spots began at his temples and ran down the sides of his head and neck, disappearing beneath the high collar of his Nehru-style tunic.

His features suggested a mischievous nature, and Dax was widely rumored to be a larger-than-life figure, boisterous, flamboyant, and occasionally arrogant. He was an inveterate gambler and ladies man, seemingly a throwback to the machismo of earlier centuries. He was undeniably brilliant, one of the Federation’s top negotiators, typically dispatched to flashpoints across the quadrant to represent the Federation’s interests with often antagonistic foreign powers.

“For those of you unfamiliar with him, I want to introduce Ambassador Curzon Dax. The ambassador has been assigned to assist us with our mission to open a diplomatic dialogue with the Magna Roman government.

“Our primary task will be to stop this recent wave of piracy through diplomatic channels, if possible, and by force if necessary. Our secondary mission is to try and uncover how the Romanii came to possess the genetic engineering expertise necessary to create Augments.”

Trujillo nodded to Dax, inviting him to speak.

“It’s my honor to assist you in this endeavor,” he said in a deep, resonant voice. “This was an unexpectedly rapid deployment for me, so I’ve not yet had the opportunity to brush up on Magna Romanii culture, languages, and history, but I’ll be using our transit time to rectify that deficit.”

Dax looked around the table, committing the faces of the senior officers to memory. “There are some new faces since I was aboard last. Two years ago, then Captain Trujillo and Reykjavík came to my rescue when I was taken hostage during negotiations on Ardana. I know what this crew and this ship are capable of, and I could not have asked for a more able vessel from which to operate.”

Nodding in the direction of Helvia, Dax continued, “My part in our assignment will be to try and negotiate an end to these undeclared hostilities with official representatives of the Magna Romanii. For all we know, these pirates may be unaffiliated with their government, though I suspect that only a planetary military organization would have the resources to operate these vessels and have access to augmented soldiers.

“Let’s hope they are amenable to diplomacy, as the alternatives would be most unfortunate. There is also the possibility of influencing them through their relationships with intermediary species such as the Orions who are likely responsible for equipping them with their ships and more advanced technology.”

“Agreed,” Trujillo said. “We’ll have eight days in transit, during which we’ll need to prepare multiple contingency plans for a variety of potential outcomes."

Lieutenant Jagvir Shukla, the ship’s turban-clad Sikh Operations officer, gestured his desire to speak and Trujillo signaled her consent.

“Sir, when you say, ‘by force if necessary’, what exactly might that entail?”

“If our diplomatic overtures are rebuffed, we will track down and either seize or destroy the Magna Romanii fleet, such as it is.” She turned slightly in her chair to lean forward, forearms atop the table. Her face remained carefully neutral, but her brown eyes sparkled with an intensity born of profound anger. “They’ve attacked and seized several non-aligned vessels in recent weeks and have now attacked two Federation freighters in short order. In their most recent raid, they murdered the entire crew compliment of the deuterium carrier Mosinee. Forty-two of our brothers and sisters in uniform butchered as they fought hand-to-hand to defend their ship. That’s an act of war.”

Dr. Bennett raised a hand, prompting Trujillo to acknowledge him next.

“Sir, based on the reports I’ve read, the Romanii have achieved sufficient advancement in medical knowledge and technology to have successfully altered their genome. Granted, there’s a substantial difference between basic gene editing and the level of enhancement we’re talking about with augmentation as we understand it. Based on the scans of the tissue samples I was provided by Starfleet Intelligence, it appears a higher level of technical expertise is at work here. The sophistication of these augmented genetics bears greater similarity to the work of Dr. Arik Soong of the 22nd century than that of the researchers in the mid-20th century that produced Earth’s first generation of so-called Supermen.”

“You suspect alien influence, Doctor?” Davula asked.

“I do. Unless we arrive to find that they’ve made some incredible advances on their own in the medical sciences, I can’t realistically attribute this level of work to them.”

“Sir, I—” Garrett began, then blanched when she realized that she had not asked for, nor received permission to speak.

Trujillo waved her off, “Out with it, Lieutenant.”

“Well, I…“ she paused, looking down the conference table to where Helvia sat, as silent and impassive as statuary. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s just awkward talking about a people in broad generalities when one of them is in the room.”

Trujillo cast a glance in Helvia’s direction. “Any objections, Mister Helvia?”

“None, sir,” he replied with what looked suspiciously like the hint of a self-deprecating smirk.

“Okay, then,” Garrett began. “I’ve been looking up everything we have on the Magna Romanii, to include Enterprise’s original contact reports. The most comprehensive information I’ve been able to get my hands on has been the debriefing of Mister Helvia’s family after they were granted refugee status by the Federation.”

Trujillo nodded, “I’m sensing there’s more?”

“Yes, sir, on multiple fronts, actually. Firstly, I stumbled across scholarly citations indicating that the Federation Cultural Contact Survey Group had a covert sociological survey team embedded on Magna Roma for over two decades, most of the 2270’s and 80’s. I’ve made multiple attempts to get access to their mission’s extensive database, but all records are listed as classified by the order of the Federation Science Council.”

Trujillo appeared nonplussed and threw a look in Davula’s direction. “Commander, given that you’re our First Contact expert, how unusual is that?”

“Highly, sir,” Davula replied, her eyes widening as she considered the ramifications. “I could see Starfleet Intel compartmentalizing certain information about advanced near-peer technology, but at the time of that cultural survey the Romanii were at the equivalent level of Earth in the late 20th century. And for the Science Council itself to lockdown the comprehensive findings of a decades long survey mission… it’s nearly unheard of.”

Trujillo typed notes into her data-slate atop the table. “I will find you some answers, Lieutenant.” She looked up, focusing on the young science officer again. “You said multiple fronts?”

“Yes, sir.” Garrett made another furtive glance down the table at Helvia. “To be perfectly blunt, sir, the more I dig into the little available information I can access, the less sense the overall picture makes.”

Trujillo redoubled her focus on Garrett. “Meaning… what, exactly?”

“Nothing about that planet or it’s people makes any logical sense, Commodore,” Garrett said, evident frustration bleeding through in her tone. She looked guiltily towards Helvia. “I mean no disrespect, Lieutenant. I’m speaking from a purely scientific standpoint; I’m not disparaging your people’s culture.”

Trujillo looked towards Davula, then shifted her eyes back to Garrett. “Explain.”

“The planet itself is nearly identical to Earth. Not only its overall mass, gravity, and atmospheric composition, but the land masses and oceans show only a sixteen percent variation from Earth’s physical layout. That’s not just improbable, it’s statistically impossible.”

Shukla smiled uncertainly at Garrett’s seeming outrage with the planet’s improbability before realizing what he was witnessing was genuine professional ire. He sought to offer an explanation with, “Enterprise’s science officer cited Hodgkin’s Law of Parallel Planetary Developme—” he began, only to have Davula try to interject.

Garrett waved them both off impatiently. “Respectfully, Hodgkin’s Law is a theory observing generalities among humanoid civilizations. It’s concerned with social and cultural attributes, not the physical composition and comparative geology of planets. Commander Spock later recanted his application of that theory in his subsequent after-action reports.”

Trujillo observed Garrett quietly for a moment, having never seen her this professionally flustered. “What are you trying to say, Lieutenant?”

“As unlikely as this sounds, sir, every standing theory I’ve come across trying to explain the existence of Magna Roma and its people has crumbled with shockingly little scrutiny. Some researchers early on hypothesized that perhaps an alien species abducted Romans from Earth millennia ago and seeded them on a planet they terraformed for just that purpose.”

“That’s the theory I’m most familiar with,” Trujillo said. “You’re saying that doesn’t hold water?”

“Not a drop, sir.”

Trujillo brought her hands up off the table in a gesture of abeyance. “Let’s put a pause on this for a moment, Mister Garrett. I fully intend to hear you out, but let’s finish our mission brief first.”

Garrett nodded weakly, appearing deflated, her anger abating. “Of course, sir. I apologize.”

The remainder of the briefing went by the numbers, with recitations of departmental readiness, logistics updates, and navigation information on the region surrounding the fourth planet of System 892, also known as Magna Roma. The viewscreen was activated and the senior staffs of both Gol and Zelenskyy offered similar reports.

Trujillo concluded the briefing, terminating the transmission to the other ships and dismissing the rest of the senior staff. She indicated that Davula, Helvia, and Ambassador Dax should remain.

“Okay, Rachel. You have my full attention. Please tell me what’s got you so upset.”

Garrett took a steadying breath, determined to rein in her roiling frustration. “Commodore, I’m a scientist, trained in the scientific method and qualified in data analytics. Every time I dive into the information available on this planet and culture, the prevailing theories fall apart like day old sandcastles. I’m looking at reports that read like fiction, as if the scientists writing them just… gave up… took the easy way out and decided to offer up the most ridiculous, unsupported drivel to explain away all the inconsistencies they encountered.”

The young science officer toggled the LCARS interface set into the tabletop in front of her, calling up a representation of Magna Roma on the briefing room’s viewscreen set into the bulkhead. “Let’s take that theory you cited, sir, about ancient aliens abducting Earthers from in or around Rome two millennia ago and transporting them to a terraformed duplicate Earth. Given that the Magna Romanii are genetically identical to Terran Humans, if you took a sample group of let’s say five hundred people and plunked them down in roughly the same spot on Magna Roma, we can easily calculate the population growth that would be expected.”

Davula smiled slightly, nodding. “The numbers don’t add up, do they?”

“Not even close, sir,” Garrett agreed. “By now, their population should be somewhere in the vicinity of two-point-one billion, once we factor in a lack of genetic variety in a homogeneous population, ecological impacts, localized overpopulation stressors, disease rates and endemic warfare. The actual population of Magna Roma at present is hovering somewhere in the vicinity of six-point-three billion. “

“And if that’s what happened, how do you explain all the other racial and ethnic groups we know to exist on Magna Roma, just as they do on Earth? Did our mystery aliens abduct hundreds or thousands of people from every racial group on every continent, and drop them onto the analogous regions on their duplicate Earth? This supposedly happened what, less than twenty-five hundred years ago? So, well within recorded Human history. How is it that we have no stories or fables about the night people disappeared from cultures all across the planet?

“Alternately, I’ve found no evidence of any historical documentation from Magna Roma indicating people waking up on a suddenly depopulated planet.” Garrett turned to Helvia. “Lieutenant, growing up, were there any historical accounts or fables about ancient Romans waking up to find most of the population of the city of Rome missing?”

Helvia shook his head. “Not to my knowledge, no.”

Garrett pointed to the screen as she focused on Trujillo. “And what about the animals? Millions of species of animals and insects, all completely identical to those on Earth, to include fossilized skeletons of the same extinct species that evolved on Earth and then went extinct. You're telling me whoever terraformed Magna Roma went to all the trouble to infuse fossils into the rock strata?"

Trujillo was on the cusp of replying when Garrett abruptly continued, "And that’s just one of nearly a dozen different crackpot theories that have been generated over the decades. None of them stand up to any serious scrutiny, making me wonder what the hell the Science Council could be hiding.”

Trujillo nodded slowly. “I’m beginning to understand your frustration, Lieutenant. I’ll pull some strings to see if I can get that data declassified so you can have access to it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Trujillo looked from Garrett to Davula, a former science officer herself. “You two are my science cadre, and you’ve never let me down. I want to know everything there is to know about this planet and its people by the time we arrive. Forget everything Federation science thinks it knows; I want the two of you to start from square one with Mister Helvia’s assistance.”

The two women departed with Helvia, leaving Trujillo alone with Curzon.

The older man smiled at her, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “A genuine mystery, eh? As if this assignment weren’t complicated and delicate enough already.”

She shook her head fractionally. “Leave it to Starfleet to give us only half the critical information we need because some bureaucrat someplace likes keeping secrets for secrecy’s sake.”

Curzon’s smile expanded. “It’ll just make our success all the sweeter, Commodore.”

“I hope to hell you’re right, Ambassador. We have far too many blind spots where the Romanii are concerned, and in this kind of scenario, blind spots get people killed.”

"You're an incorrigible pessimist, Commodore, do you know that?" He noted with a laugh.

"I'll celebrate when the job's finished," Trujillo countered. "If we somehow pull this off, you and Glal can save me a spot in that ratty spacer's bar you two so adore."

* * *