Chapter 2 - Stuck

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"Otra!! Can you hear me? Otra?" Dr. Boris Yarin shook the half-Witannen's shoulder gently. "Come back to us. Otra!"

Admiral Carmen Calavicci rushed into the Temporal Integrity Commission's Mess Hall, where the incident was unfolding. She looked into Boris's dark eyes. "What the devil is happening?"

He shook his head for a second, light glinting briefly off his cranial ridges. The human-Klingon-Xindi sloth hybrid looked very, very concerned. He tapped his own left ear, twice, in order to engage an implanted communicator. "Yimiva? Come, and contact Doctor Chelenska as well. You and I may need to perform surgery on Otra. Chelenska may as well observe."

The Calafan doctor simply replied, "Understood, Yimiva out."

"Answer me, Boris," Carmen insisted, hovering. Behind her was Levi Cavendish, who had been having lunch with Otra. His head twitched a little, and he seemed to want to be asking the same questions as Carmen was, but he kept silent. He was just as concerned as she was.

"I think this vision is too much for Otra. If Yimiva and I cannot rouse her, we may need to remove her implants."

"What the devil good will that do?"

"Buy us some time. I, I think."


It was less than a minute later, and alarms began to go off throughout the USS Adrenaline, the headquarters of the Temporal Integrity Commission.

Carmen heard a trill in her own left ear. "Yes, go ahead."

"My computers're goin' nuts here," Chief Engineer Kevin O'Connor complained.

"Do you know what the changes are?" Carmen inquired.

"I was hopin' to ask Otra," he replied.

Carmen rubbed her own temples. "She's, she's somewhat overcome. This vision of a temporal alternative must have been enormous." Nearby, Yimiva and Boris transported with a still-prone Otra to Boris's Sick Bay as Carmen and Levi watched and fretted.


Rick Daniels and Milena Chelenska beamed in as quickly as possible. "I am still not used to that infernal machine," she complained. Her vowels were shifted, even with the Universal Translators built into everyone's implanted communicators. Infernal sounded like infairnull, a product of her Czech accent and the fact that she often peppered her Czech speech with Yiddish, a habit that sometimes stumped the translation matrix.

"You get used to it," assured Yimiva. She was an older Calafan, with hair. With long sleeves covering the naturally-occurring coppery scrollwork on her arms, she seemed fully human. Boris, on the other hand, did not appear human at all.

"There is much," motch, "for me to get used to," Milena stated, frowning, "and I don't know what I can do for the patient. She is not a human, no? I, up until recently, it was 1969 for me, and I did not so much as know that there were others, that there was alien life on other worlds." Milena paused. "I just realized, the term, alien, is it an insult to you?"

"It is not," Boris assured her, "but I trust you know that, on Tellar and Cait and Dawitan and the like, it is you who are the alien."

"What's wrong with Otra?" Rick asked, cutting to the chase.

"We don't really know," Yimiva admitted. She led them to a bio bed where Otra was strapped in.

"Is the patient," pehshent, "a danger to others?"

"Probably not," Boris explained, "we only want to assure that she doesn't fall out of the bed. See," he added, "Otra is half-human, and half-Witannen. There aren't too many people like her."

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