Returning Home...

Posted on Thu Jan 14th, 2021 @ 12:54am by Captain Rueben Gregnol & Executive Officer Jake Ford & Jasper Offermans & Micheal Robertson & Jinx Jorasco

Mission: Mission 12 - Railway
Location: Andromeda Galaxy, SS Mary Rose
Timeline: MD04 09:00
1250 words - 2.5 OF Standard Post Measure

**Somewhere in the Andromeda Galaxy**

A medium-sized Klingon shuttle slowly drifted through the empty void of the Andromeda Galaxy. It was an older design of shuttle, but more than big enough for the purposes of its owner, a bounty hunter. The craft, and occupant were not native to the area of the cosmos where they currently found themselves. Due to a freak spatial distortion, they were yanked here nearly two years ago. Since, the pilot has worked hard, trying to stay alive and find a way back home.

"Come on, damn it!" Micheal cursed to himself as he worked in the cramped confines under his flight console.

"I think I have found the issue, Micheal," the voice of the shuttle's AI stated in its soft, feminine voice.

"Whatcha got, Becca?" the large Texan grunted as he continued his work.

Becca, as Micheal had named the AI, replied, its voice coming from the cabin's hidden speakers, "It seems that the lateral thruster assembly control circuit was damaged during that solar flare that we were caught in yesterday. I believe I can reroute the controls for now. However, we will need to find a repair facility to make the necessary repairs. It is not something that can be done out here."

The Texan cursed more under his breath. Then he started to grunt and strain. Finally, after an audible pop, he spoke. "Okay, I got the old transceiver antenna control module off. See if you can reboot and find a path around the damaged system."

"Working," Becca replied. There was a brief pause, and then she continued, "Temporary repair successful. We do have partial telemetry and communications. However, the latter will only be audio. We do not have enough bandwidth for visual communications, coming or going.”

"Not that it matters," Micheal grumbled as he crawled out from under the console. "There's no one and nothing out here. That solar storm not only knocked out the navigational array, but the turbulence threw us to, well, wherever the hell HERE is!"

Suddenly, a warning alarm began to play. Looking down at the half dead controls, Micheal asked, "What's going on?"

Becca's response was partially garbled. "Mic---l! ---detect--- --sing neu--ino --vels! Poss---- wo----le -orm--- near--!"

Cursing again, Micheal dropped down into his command seat and activated the emergency restraints. The instant after he did, his shuttle was rocked hard, sparks flying all around him as computer interface screens blew out. The sound of his hull groaning was nearly deafening. Suddenly, all power went out and the front viewport was filled with the opening maw of a wormhole. Not as large as the one near Bajor, and not similarly colored. This wormhole seemed just big enough to encompass his shuttle, and it was red, with black and purple ribbons running everywhere.

The g-forces that Micheal was feeling as his shuttle was pulled through the wormhole were incredible. He couldn't remember the last time he felt as much. His vision started to grow more tunneled, as the blood was being pulled away from it. He didn't think he could hang on much longer.


**SS Mary Rose**

The bridge was only filled with people that had swapped, making it so much easier for people to be at normal positions, as the Fenris Rangers were back on their ship. “Well, this is a lot nicer,” Dixoho commented from the spare console as she laid out the map to be able to guide Eden at the helm. It would be a tag team game, but she was sure they were going to be able to find them.

“It is nice. I can sit in my chair and not pretend to drive our home with as much grace as Eden,” Gregnol assured, looking down at his unfamiliar body sitting not quite right in his chair. Despite the forty enough hours he had now been Eden, it was not getting easier.


"Spatial readings are shifting," Jasper piped in from his comm station. "Either the computer's acting up, or we're in for quite the ride."

Suddenly, the cosmos erupted like a geyser. The radiation and energy waves were nearly visible in contrast to the blackness of the surrounding space. Suddenly, a small ship emerged from the now collapsing maw. Upon closer examination, it wasn’t a ship, but an old, medium level Klingon long range shuttle. At first, it was drifting, lifeless. Then, a few lights seemed to reignite.

“It’s a ship,” Gregnol muttered. “Is it the refugees?” He wondered if they were able to get out of the minefield without them after all. A hail notification beeped on Rosie’s bridge.

Jinx sat in the actual science chair on the bridge, not on her usual step stool, since in Avalon’s body she could reach everything. She read the spatial disturbance as well, and watched the brief appearance of the wormhole deposit a junky old Klingon shuttle into space.

“I am getting no further readings on that wormhole,” Jinx said. She instinctively reached to scratch Zambi’s head, but the raptor wasn’t on the bridge with her, staying instead near Jinx’s body inhabited by Avalon. “It disappeared just as fast as it arrived. It doesn’t seem to have permanently anchored.” Jinx tapped a few more controls. “I am reading one life sign on board the shuttle. Human,” she informed Gregnol.

The hail notification beeped again.

"The Fenris Rangers are also demanding answers," Dixoho hissed.

"One issue at a time," Gregnol muttered. "Eden, contact the Rangers. Tell them we will handle this issue and then get back to helping them. We are good at multitasking in issues," he said, thinking a divide and conquer approach would be better, especially as this person would not know him, and the Rangers knew Eden was Gregnol at the moment. "This is the SS Mary Rose. Can we be of assistance?" Gregnol said as he indicated to Dixoho to answer it, seeing she was sitting at what would have been the communication console.

There was a moment of static, then a woman's voice could be heard, though her message was garbled. "CAP--In Greg---! This is -ecca, Mich--- ---ertson's AI! -edical emerg--cy! ---heal inj--ed and uncon----! I say aga--, med---- emerg----!" The line then went dead.

Jinx danced her fingers over the controls. “Enhancing the readings,” she said. “You should be able to get a better lock on him now to beam him to sickbay,” she told Ops.

Suddenly, all power in the shuttle failed and it began to slowly tumble through space.

"Yep," I've got her," Jasper replied as he tapped on the consol and slid his fingers along the slide control.

"Offerman to Sickbay," the Ops person stated as he opening a link to the COM system's communications, "medical emergency, the patient being delivered via direct transport, human male."

>>Final tags

**Klingon Shuttle**

The quiet scene of Micheal, floating in his seat (he would’ve been floating and bouncing around the cabin, had he not been secured to said seat with the restraints), was suddenly broken by the familiar hum of a transporter cycle. “Oh thank goodness,” Becca’s voice, this time, came from the wrist com unit located on Micheal’s left wrist. Then, in less than five seconds, they were no longer in the dead shuttle. Instead, they were flashing back to the home they had left, and missed terribly, for the last year and a half. Back to their new family, their new friends, to the woman Micheal loved.