A young woman looked out a starship window as the familiar sights of a known system slipped away from view. A nearby display showed the date – January fourteenth of 2154.
She smiled, patting a swollen belly as her husband slipped his arms around her. He gazed at her, his face a mass of inconsistent characteristics, as was hers.
They both had notched noses, but only her ears had small points. They also had ridges around their eyes, although his were more pronounced than hers. He was also darker than her, with skin tones close to a dusky taupe whereas her skin was an almost translucent alabaster. His eyes were dark, too, a mahogany brown, while hers were an impossibly light crystal blue. They kissed.
"You know," he told her, "I really should be getting back. We've got to make it to this rendezvous on time."
"Of course," she replied, "just think! We'll meet our forebears! It's very exciting. You'll be in Sick Bay, on alert. And of course I'll run communications."
"Right," he agreed, "and Cousin Amanda will be at Tactical, and Great-Aunt T'Les at the Science station as always, and Great-Uncle Charlie in command."
"Don't forget Cousin Stuart in Sick Bay – he's so serious! Or there's your Aunt Yoshiko in Engineering."
"Yes," he confirmed, "but don't overdo it today, Charlotte."
"I won't, Andrew. I'll be right there. I just want to write a little letter to, to them."
"See you after shift." They kissed again and Andrew departed for Sick Bay.
"Let's see," Charlotte mused, "how to begin? Ahem.
Dear family."
She took a breath. "My name is Charlotte Mary-Jane Reed-Hayes Archer. How odd this must seem to you! But we have been waiting for this our whole lives. I must remember, you're not in the same place as we are. But we are family just the same."
She paused. "It will probably be easier if I just lay out my family tree. But a tree implies something growing straight and tall, whereas my and my husband's – they meander and cross several times. So it's more like a family bramble, I guess, a tangle of a sort."
She rubbed her own back a little, as her center of gravity was shifting. "Okay, now, you are going to be confused, I bet. I know I am sometimes! So I'll start with your end of things. There were a total of one hundred and seven children born to the first generation. That is, to you guys. I know how weird that sounds. I bet most of you aren't even dating yet. Hell, according to the old logs, we know that most of you don't even realize that you like each other."
That thought made her chuckle. "We only care about a few of these people, at least when it comes to me and mine. We'll call this Generation 2.1, because you are the real Generation 1.0, okay? You are my great-great-grandparents. And Generation 2.1, those are my great-grandparents. Er, they're your kids. See how confusing it is already? On my father's side, it goes as follows – first of his great-greats is Major Jay Hayes, who married Lili O'Day, the sous-chef. Well, I don't need to tell you your ranks and roles, of course. They had two kids together – one was Jeremiah, who was called Joss. Their daughter was Madeline. Joss married Kim Sloane-Chang, the daughter of Sandra Sloane and Daniel Chang. Joss and Kim had three kids of their own – Pete, Marie and Stacey. Those are all Generation 2.2, if you're keeping track."
She took a breath. "Generation 2.2 wasn't quite as big, as there were definite space issues. So there were – er, are, sixty-three of them. Pete married Amanda Phlox. She's one of the grandchildren of Doctor Phlox and Amanda Cole."
A pause. "Then there's Generation 2.3. Again, it's a smaller generation. A part of that was due to space constraints, but it was also due to concerns about too much interbreeding. After all, we were already pretty intimately connected with each other. It could be difficult to find an unrelated or more or less unrelated spouse. My parents are in this generation. My Dad is named Malcolm Logan Reed-Hayes."
She looked out the window a little before continuing. "Now let's talk about my mother's side. Mom is also descended from Lili O'Day, but because of Lili's relationship with Malcolm Reed. That's where the Reed part of Reed-Hayes comes from. Their daughter was Pamela. She married Nick Ryan, who was the son of Meredith Porter and Rex Ryan. Pam and Nick's son was Jay Malcolm O'Day Ryan. Isn't that a mouthful? He married Daphne Tucker – she was a granddaughter of Ethan Shapiro and an Ikaaran woman named Bithara, and of Commanders Charles Tucker III and T'Pol, who is still alive. I don't go to see my great-great-granny as often as I should. She still lives on B deck."
She smiled to herself. "Generation 2.3 is my mother, T'Mir Ryan. Now for my husband, Andrew Archer."
She coughed a little. "First generation on his father's side is Andrew Miller and Shelby Pike. They had a son named Scott. Then there's Mara Brodsky and Walter Woods – they had a daughter named Tanya. Tanya married Scotty and their daughter was Lucinda. She's in Generation 2.2. Are you with me so far?"
Another pause. "Also in the first generation are Jonathan Archer and an Ikaaran woman named Ebrona, plus, again, Jay Hayes and Lili O'Day. This time it's their daughter, Madeline. Madeline marries Jon and Ebrona's son, Henry. They had two kids, Aaron and Sally. Aaron was Aaron Gregory, actually – he was called AG, after an old friend of Jonathan Archer's. Aaron married Lucinda and their son was Doug. Doug is my father-in-law, okay?"
She patted her belly. "Then on Andrew's mother's side, the first generations are, first, Azar Hamidi and Maryam Haroun. The other couple is Ramih Azar and Nan Myers. Azar and Maryam had a son named Ali. Ramih and Nan's daughter was named Fatima. Ali and Fatima married. Their son was Mahmout. Then there's Tracey Carter and Oscar Tiburón in the first generation and, again, Doctor Phlox and Amanda Cole. See, Phlox and Cole had nine kids! So there's a lot of repetition there. Anyway, Tracey and Oscar had two kids – Amanda who was called Almendra – that means almond in Spanish – and Carlos. Carlos married Michelle Phlox. Their daughter was Ines Tiburón. Finally, Ines and Mahmout had a daughter, Laila. She's my mother-in-law."
She smiled again. "I realize this is crazy confusing, but I wanted you to know who I am. And I wanted to give you a fighting chance of understanding my son, and what he's going to look like. See, my notched nose comes from Bithara. The points on my ears come from Daphne and T'Mir and back to T'Pol. The ridges around my eyes come from Amanda Phlox. And the same is almost all true of Andrew. He gets a notched nose from Ebrona, and eye ridges from Michelle. He got to skip the pointed ears. But when our son is born, I bet he'll marry someone who's part-Vulcan. That is, if we can be released from here. See, we are meeting you today, and it's because we really want to meet you, and work with you in order to defeat the Xindi. But it's also because, in a lot of ways, this is a generational prison. And we want – we need – to be let out. We're running out of genetic diversity and it's all about to collapse on itself."
=/\=
On the Bridge of the Enterprise, Charlotte quickly got into her seat at Communications. She smiled up at the person she was relieving – a cousin by marriage, Aidan Khan. He asked, "so, how's the little stinker doin'?"
"He's not thrashing around as much as he used to, thank God. He'll be a MACO, I bet. Won't ya, Joss?" she asked her own belly.
"I thought you were naming him Jay."
"We are. I just figure we'll call him Joss, like Great-granddaddy."
"Cool. Gotta go. Hi to Andy, okay?"
"Sure thing." She smiled at him as she wiped off the earpiece and then placed and adjusted it.
"Are we getting anything yet?" asked the captain, a human-Vulcan hybrid named Charles Tucker IV.
"Not yet, Charlie," she answered. She adjusted a few things. "Hang on. I think the static is getting more isolated and less randomized."
"Does that actually mean anything in English?" asked a part-Vulcan fellow at the Tactical station.
"Very funny, Steve," she replied.
An eyebrow was raised at the Science station, where T'Mir was serving. "Children, really. Steven, I've half a mind to call your mother in Engineering."
The pilot, who was mostly Ikaaran and had rather pronounced ridges on his nose, looked up. "I can see them," he reported.
"Good going, Mister Creighton," praised Captain Tucker. "Let's get it on screen and magnified, Charlotte."
"Right away." She fiddled with controls and the image was magnified and made clearer. "Wow. It's the NX-01! It's probably the way she's really supposed to look, eh?"
=/\=
On the cleaner, brighter version of the NX-01, Hoshi Sato was listening to the static. "Hey, wait a second. It's not randomized."
"I beg your pardon?" asked Captain Jonathan Archer.
"The static, sir," she adjusted her earpiece – the same piece that Charlotte Reed-Hayes Archer was listening with, "it's got a pattern to it. It's like somebody is out there, but they're hiding a bit."
"Malcolm, check on long-range scanners," Jonathan commanded.
"Right away, sir," replied the Tactical officer. He punched keys on the same console being used, not that far away, by Steven Khan, a descendant of Hoshi's, but also of T'Pol and Tripp.
T'Pol looked up from the Science station, not knowing that her great-granddaughter was peering into the exact same scope. "Long-range sensors are showing inconclusive data. It is almost as if it were a reflection of our own readings."
"Captain, I can see something," reported Travis Mayweather from the pilot's chair, unaware that his counterpart, who was distantly related to him, had said nearly the same thing.
"On screen and magnified," said Jonathan, giving nearly the same command as his successor, the son of the Chief Engineer and the Science Officer.
"The configuration, sir," opined Malcolm, "I think it's almost Starfleet in design."
Hoshi hit some more switches and the image was magnified some more. Her jaw dropped. "Sir!"
"Yes, I see it, Ensign," replied the Captain, "Take us in closer, Travis."
=/\=
The two ships stopped, not one thousand meters from each other. The captain decided, "Well, uh, I guess we should open a channel, Hoshi."
"Go ahead."
"This is Captain Jonathan Archer of the starship Enterprise. But, uh, you might know that already. What we're trying to figure out is – who are you?"
Charlie Tucker nodded to Charlotte. She adjusted a few things and their image was sent to the other NX-01. He spoke. "Captain Archer, my name is Charles Tucker IV. I know you're not going to believe this. So I'm going to ask my Communications Officer to send you a few things. Charlotte?"
"Captain," she said, "there are some things that we know about you. That we would only know if, well, if we really knew you. I'm going to send a note to everyone about that, all right? It's just a little note."
"Captain Archer," said Charlie, "today is the day that, so far as we are concerned, a starship called Enterprise was kicked back in time. It was due to a Kovaalan particle wake. One minute, it was today – January fourteenth of 2154. And then it was 2037. It was April the eighth, to be perfectly precise."
"What?" asked Archer.
"Captain," Charlie continued, "we didn't make this. And neither did you. Or, rather, the other version of you. But it happened all the same. We did not think you would believe us. So we put together the notes that Charlotte has just sent you. Please, please, just open them and read them. And you will see that we are sincere."
Jonathan glanced around. "Well?" he asked Hoshi.
"We have messages for everyone," she reported, "They're virus-free."
"Okay," the captain suggested, "let's read them." He motioned for her to cut the sound.
=/\=
Dear Jonathan Archer,
You love strawberry shortcake.
=/\=
Dear Jay Hayes,
You have a lucky nickel, minted in 2012.
=/\=
Dear Malcolm Reed,
You have lactose intolerance, and you don't want anyone to know.
=/\=
Dear Maryam Haroun,
You've been kissed twice.
=/\=
Dear T'Pol,
You hate peanuts.
=/\=
Dear Rex Ryan,
You can play the guitar.
=/\=
Dear Travis Mayweather,
Whenever your mother flies the Horizon, if you're not on a deadline, she flies really slowly.
=/\=
Dear Hoshi Sato,
If you ever had kids, you would want to name them Toru and Yoshiko.
=/\=
Dear Doctor Phlox,
It is not in your traditions for you to choose your children's spouses.
=/\=
Dear Ethan Shapiro,
You secretly like Karin Bernstein.
=/\=
Dear Craig Willets,
You're tired of Engineering and would really prefer to just be working with computers again.
=/\=
Dear Daniel Chang,
You wouldn't kick Deborah Haddon out of bed.
=/\=
Dear Meredith Porter,
You can sing.
=/\=
Dear Lili O'Day,
You like Major Hayes and Lieutenant Reed.
=/\=
Dear Jennifer Crossman,
You have a twin sister named Claire.
=/\=
Perhaps a minute later, they had all read their messages. Everyone looked up from their PADDs. "They know us, sir," Malcolm finally ventured.
"It's intimate information," reported Hoshi, "I've never told anyone what I just read on my PADD."
Jonathan nodded. "It's not even the biggest secret I've got. It's just something I don't make public. But the message is correct." He looked around at all of them. "Let's have a meeting. Right now. Get the rest of the senior staff up here – Slocum, Hayes, Pike, Tucker and Phlox."
"Right away, Captain."
"Oh, and let's put the other ship off. Close the connection but tell them, uh, we'll contact them in an hour."
"Yes, sir."
=/\=
Doctor Phlox hastily put Andrew Miller from the Bio Lab in charge of Sick Bay. "But I'm not a doctor," the crewman had protested. Phlox had just told him to do his best and to call if there was a real emergency.
As for Tucker, he commandeered Crewman José Torres to monitor the containment field. Jay Hayes asked Private Daniel Chang – the guy had been recently busted from Corporal for insubordination – to take charge of things while he was in the meeting. It seemed like a good idea, to give the man a chance to redeem himself a bit.
Will Slocum, the chef, had his assistant, the sous-chef, Lili O'Day, begin lunch. She called in a favor and contacted Navigational Crewman Preston Jennings to help. He had been a steward before the outbreak of the Xindi war and so he could perform basic tasks although he was nowhere near as skilled in Food Service as she was. But it was something, for otherwise it was too much for one person to cook, clean and serve, in addition to handling the Captain's Mess.
As for Shelby Pike, there was nothing for her to do. She was the Botanist, and the plants were fine. She set the lights on their usual timer and left without a concern; although she did wonder a little bit about the note that was sent to her, how the note writer could have possibly known that she had been a ballerina at the San Francisco Ballet before joining Starfleet. A minor player, to be sure, but she had had ambitions of dancing Coppélia, and the note had been about her ambition. How could this unknown crew have possibly known that?
=/\=
"Well, you all know why you're here," Captain Archer began, without preamble. "We don't know these people at all. But the PADD messages – so far as I can tell, did anyone get a message that didn't make any sense to them, or that was purely public information?"
Everyone shook their heads. "I took the liberty of scanning their hull," Malcolm announced, "and their ship does not just look like our own. It is also composed of the same metallic alloys as our own."
"The warp signatures differ slightly," Tripp Tucker explained, "but that's to be expected, given the story they're tellin', I mean. Consider this – you're out here for over a century. And you don't have access to refined fuels. It makes sense that their ride mighta gotten a little bumpy."
"Sir?" Shelby raised her hand and then lowered it quickly. "Oops, uh, I've never been to one of these meetings before. Sorry."
"That's all right," Archer encouraged, "go ahead."
"I think I believe them. It sounds like a crazy thing, but I like to think that if, well, if we were in the same boat, that they'd believe us."
"Look at their Bridge crew," Will gazed at the playback. "Their Communications Officer has the same coloring as my sous-chef. And the captain is a Vulcan, despite his human name, right?"
"The pilot resembles Sophie Creighton a little bit," Travis pointed out. "And their Tactical guy looks like Sekar Khan."
"Their Science Officer is another Vulcan," Hoshi stated, "and she looks a lot like you, T'Pol."
A Vulcan eyebrow was raised. "How would that be possible? Vulcans and humans cannot have offspring. And Denobulans and Vulcans cannot, either. Was a second Vulcan brought aboard, and then his child adopted by Commander Tucker? That does not make logical sense."
"Perhaps I – or someone like me," Phlox speculated, "determined how to line up human and Vulcan chromosomes."
"Actually, that makes more sense to me," Tripp allowed. "Their captain looks a little like my grand pappy, around the eyes in particular."
Now the Vulcan eyebrow shot up even higher. "Commander?"
"All I'm sayin'," Tucker said, "is that it's lookin' mighty possible from here."
"Impressions? Let's go around the room," Captain Archer suggested. "Major?"
"I, uh, well, it's strange but my message was definitely right on target, and it was a very private thing. Nobody would've known that. I vote to believe them."
"Travis?"
"The note was about how fast my mother flies the Horizon when she's in command. It's not completely private, but it's close enough, I guess. Their pilot doesn't just look like Sophie. He also looks a little like my brother, Paul. I wonder if I married Sophie."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," The captain asked, "Chef?"
"The note was about my mother being of Italian descent. It's not something I shout from the rooftops but it's no secret, either. Someone's got to be the opposing viewpoint, so I suppose that someone will be me. I vote that they aren't who they say they are, and it's maybe some weird Xindi ploy."
"All right," the captain asked, "Hoshi?"
"The note was right, as I've said. The Communications Officer did everything I would do, too. Did you notice that she's pregnant? That kinda seals it for me. I mean, if you're gonna be a generational ship, then that seems inevitable."
"T'Pol?"
"The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that time travel is impossible. I suggest that this might be a Xindi ruse, as Chef Slocum has suggested. However, the logic behind it is not yet apparent."
"Fair enough. Shelby?"
"The note was completely on target. Plus why would the Xindi try to get us this way? It makes no sense to me. I mean, if they wanted to, why wouldn't they just blow us out of the sky? Not that I want them to, but making up this kind of a story, mocking up a ship, making up these people, writing the notes – I don't understand it. It's to what end, sir?"
The captain nodded. "Tripp?"
"Like I said, the warp signature makes sense, and their captain has a family resemblance to me. With all that time, yeah, they'd figger all sorts of things out. I go with believing 'em."
"Doctor?"
"There is some ridging around their Communications Officer's eyes, and around the eyes of the Tactical Officer and their pilot as well. If this is true, then I have any number of unknown relatives. On Denobula, this would be a cause for a great celebration."
"But do you believe them?" asked the captain.
"Let's just say I'm cautiously optimistic. I like the idea of them. And their statement was accurate albeit not too terribly personal. But that may be a function of log entries and the like. If they based their notes upon log entries, well, mine are none too intimate. Hence they would have little to go on. Whether that means that they were checking logs in their own records, or they somehow tapped into our own – that part I cannot tell."
"Got it. Malcolm?"
"Sir, the note was certainly intimate enough and so that part works. The fact that much of their crew had a jumble of features also makes some sense to me. After all, such a situation would be an occasion for a great deal of interbreeding, I'll wager. The notching on the noses – where does that come from? To my mind, it makes logical sense that they would have made up the gender imbalance with alien women somehow."
"Okay," the captain allowed. He looked at all of them. "As for me, I guess I'd have to say that the jury's still out."
There was a chime in Hoshi's ear. "Captain, they're hailing us."
"Oh?"
"It's just Charlotte."
"On screen, I guess."
Charlotte peered at them. "We have a big database filled with all sorts of information. Not only about who we are but also about what we've been up to. We've been able to replicate all sorts of things. We farm on two planets in the Expanse. We occasionally meet and trade with Xyrillians, and we avoid a species we know you've never heard of – the Imvari. I would like to start sending you our database, if that's okay."
"Stand by," Hoshi replied. She cut the sound. "Well?"
"I, uh, I don't know," Jonathan admitted.
There was another small chime and Hoshi saw a note. She opened it, a note from Charlotte. She read it aloud.
"Dear Hoshi,
I hope you don't mind the over familiarity. We don't call each other by rank or surname here. But that's because we're mostly all related to each other here. I bet you're skeptical so here's a list of your last ten passwords, and what I'm pretty sure is your current one."
Hoshi paused, scanning the list. "These are all correct. And I don't write them down anywhere until I'm done with them. She got the current one, right on the nose."
"Let's get that database," the captain commanded, and then added, "Open the channel back up."
"Go ahead."
"Charlotte," he said, "tell your captain, we'd like to invite your Bridge crew over. To, uh, to lunch."
"Oh that's wonderful!" she enthused. "Thanks, Great-great-granddaddy!"
=/\=
Lunch was held in the Observation Lounge. It was a strange affair. Charlie came in with T'Mir, Steven, Leo Creighton, Yoshiko Tucker Khan, Doctor Stuart Mayweather and Charlotte.
Charlotte explained her family tree as they all listened. Then Lili came in with the entrée and almost dropped it. Charlotte got up as quickly as her bulk would allow. "Great-Great-Grammy!" she called out, hugging a very surprised Lili.
"Huh," Lili finally stammered, "how? Who?"
"I'm a Reed-Hayes," Charlotte explained, "I'm related to both your husband and your lover."
"My whats?"
And so it went, as impromptu family gatherings went on throughout the day and the database was shifted over as quickly as possible. People were related in all sorts of ways, and people learned who they had married. That was a cause for more than one awkward moment, particularly when Mara Brodsky learned she'd been married first to Robert Slater and then to Walter Woods.
=/\=
It was all going well, and the database had been thoroughly transferred, when there was an alarm on the Bridge.
The second shift was there. It was Tactical Ensign Aidan MacKenzie, Science Crewman Ethan Novakovich, Communications Crewman Sandra Sloane – she had been taken off Communications but was pressed into service – pilot Chris Harris and, in command, T'Pol, who was still making sense of it all. In particular, it was when she was told that an older version of herself was on the older NX-01. The thought of that was unsettling.
There was a hail from the other NX-01. Their backup communications officer had pointed ears as well. "Foremother," she stated, "I am Daphne Tucker. We are sensing an Imvari ship."
"On screen," T'Pol commanded Sandra, who fiddled with the controls in order to fulfill her request. Inwardly, she was in turmoil. It seemed absurd to be addressed as foremother by someone who appeared to be older than her.
There was, indeed, a ship. It was not unlike a mechanical version of an octopus, or at least it seemed a bit like that. There was a central core and there were arms which looked as if they could swing out. The arms each held a smaller ship, which was perhaps a shuttle or even a large escape pod or the like.
"Hail them," T'Pol commanded Sandra.
"It won't do any good, Foremother," explained Daphne, "They are only looking for one thing, to enslave all of us."
"Enslave?" asked T'Pol.
"They work for the Orion Syndicate. They patrol this area, picking up people for labor. We lost two that way, many years ago."
"They're charging weapons!" yelled Aidan.
"Get ready, Mister MacKenzie!" T'Pol called back. "Crewman Sloane, get the captain!"
Sandra patched her through as the ship was hit. "Return fire!" yelled T'Pol.
"What's going on?" yelled Jonathan.
"Captain!" That was all that T'Pol could yell before they were hit again.
Archer looked at his guests. "I don't know what to tell you."
"We'll get back to our ship," offered Charlie. "You first, Charlotte."
"Take them to the transporter," Jonathan commanded Tripp.
They raced over as quickly as Charlotte could go. Tripp opened his communicator. "Torres, you need to man the transporter. I better get back and take your place."
"Got it," acknowledged José.
=/\=
On the Bridge, Jonathan acted quickly. "Take out their weapons," he commanded as Malcolm ran in and relieved Aidan at Tactical.
"Yes, sir," Malcolm fired a torpedo spread. One of the arms of the Imvari ship was torn clean off. That ship flew out of there as quickly as it could.
"Can you estimate their speed?" Captain Archer asked Travis.
"Warp four, I think, sir."
"Huh. We might be faster than they are."
=/\=
With the battle over, the visitors who had not beamed over collected their shuttle and departed. Charlie stood as the captain and T'Pol saw them off. "Mother," he said to T'Pol, "I know you're skeptical, still. I don't blame you. But even if you don't believe me, I still want you to know that I love you."
"I, I do not know what to say," replied the full-blooded Vulcan.
He departed and they watched the shuttle leave. "I wonder what we do now," Archer admitted.
=/\=
Once the shuttle had returned to the older NX-01, Charlie got back into the Captain's chair. "I wish there was a way we could be guaranteed that they would believe us." He sighed.
"They're smart people," Steven said, "so they're bound to not just believe everything, hook, line and sinker. At least, not without questioning everything."
"Great-Great-Grammy Lili, I know that she believed me," Charlotte said. "I'm glad we got a chance to take a few pictures. I'll send over copies to them." She flipped a few switches in order to do so.
"I've got Imvari warp signatures on long-range scanners again," warned Steven.
T'Mir peered into a scope at the Science station. "There is another set of readings. I believe they are Kovaalan."
"Target the Kovaalans, Steve!" Charlie yelled. "Let's get them out of the way."
=/\=
"I've got that ship back on sensors!" Malcolm called out.
"There is another ship," T'Pol peered into the scope at the Science station. She and the captain had just returned to the Bridge. "It appears to be Kovaalan."
"On screen," Archer commanded.
Hoshi got the image onto the main viewer, just in time for them to see the other NX-01 hitting the Kovaalan ship with a full spread of torpedoes. "What the hell?" Jonathan asked, incredulous.
The Imvari ship dropped out of warp and began firing onto the other NX-01. "Fire on the Imvari ship!" Captain Archer commanded.
Malcolm got a shot off with phase cannons and then, suddenly, they were hit with a particle wake from the Kovaalan ship.
=/\=
The stars blinked and blurred and the crew was knocked out. After several minutes, T'Pol shook herself awake. Alarmed, she saw the remainder of the Bridge crew collapsed, either at their stations or on the floor. She called out; a little scared, despite her normal Vulcan disciplines, "Can anyone hear me?"
The crew came to, slowly, shaking their heads. Travis got back up to a sitting position. "Did somebody move the stars?" he asked.
"What?" asked Captain Archer.
"The, the stars, sir. They're, uh, they're all wrong."
"What?" repeated the captain.
"They've moved, sir."
"Moved? How is this possible?" Jonathan asked T'Pol.
"Either we have moved, or the stars have," she replied.
"And the stars would only move if time had passed," Travis stated.
"Or was rewound," Hoshi added.
=/\=
In 2154, Charlie yelled, "What the hell just happened?"
T'Mir looked back at him, "Forefather, they, I think they have gone back to, to where we were."
There was an explosion. The Imvari were still out there, and were still deadly. "I thought they were taken care of!" exclaimed the captain.
"Whatever the other NX-01 did, it wasn't enough!" said Steven. "Targeting their weapons."
There was a direct hit, but it did little good. They were hit again, and again. "I'm getting reports of plasma leaks," Charlotte said, alarmed. She listened some more. "Oh my God! They're saying, oh God, oh God, E deck is hit."
"How bad is it?" asked Charlie.
"I can't reach anyone there. I can't get Sick Bay." She was in tears. "Andrew," she cried, knowing he was probably dead, along with Stuart and everyone else on that deck.
There was another hit. "Hit them with everything!" yelled Charlie.
Steven worked the controls, firing whatever he had at the Imvari ship. They had learned to target the arms, and he did, but it was not enough. Something had been adapted, and the Imvari ship was still able to hit them, and it did so.
Shaking, Charlotte listened in. "D deck is, is gone."
"Hull plating is gone," reported Steven.
"Do we have engines?" Charlie asked Leo Creighton.
"No warp drive and no impulse power," he said, "we're sitting ducks."
T'Mir looked up. "So Cousin Yoshiko is gone, too."
Another hit. "B deck," Charlotte said. T'Mir came over and just hugged her. "Mom, I'm scared."
"We all are," her mother replied.
There was a communications hail. It was the Imvari. "Prepare to be boarded." That was the only message.
Charlie had her cut the sound. "Do we at least have maneuvering thrusters, Leo?"
"I think so," he replied.
"Well, I don't know about any of you, but I won't be taken alive," Charlie was defiant.
Charlotte looked up. "I won't let them make my baby a slave." A bit of static came from her station. She turned it off as it was distracting.
They all got up, everyone except for Leo, and stood behind him. They all held hands. There was Charlie, who was Charlotte's great-grandfather. There was T'Mir, her mother. There was Steven, who was related to Yoshiko and Andrew. And there was Leo, related to all of them through the Ikaaran bloodlines.
"Ramming speed, as well as you can make it, Mister Creighton," Charlie commanded. He paused and looked at them all. "You are not only a fine crew; you are some of the many people I love."
Together, as the ship broke apart, the last words on all of their lips were the same – I love you.
The Imvari ship was finally, hopelessly, crippled, and it exploded, shards raining down on a planet that the crew of the older NX-01 had named Paradise.
=/\=
And on the newer NX-01, they all looked around, shaking, wondering what had happened and if history was, somehow, repeating itself.
=/\=
Charlotte Mary-Jane Reed-Hayes Archer's Personal Log, January fourteenth, 2154
Just a quick note. We met them! Oh! I love them already – particularly Lili. They just feel like family.
=/\=
Charlotte Lilienne O'Day's Personal Log, January fourteenth, 2154
I guess that's the day, but it's not, and God knows when we really are. I've been scared before, but dying, I think, is one thing. This is different, and it's so strange.
Our descendants – mine with Lieutenant Reed? And I had – er, will have – two with Major Hayes? And how could Charlotte have known that I like them both? I had always thought they were gay men, although I was hopeful. I suppose I've been wrong about that.
It'll take me a while to process this, I can tell. Not just what may or may not have happened, but also about those people. What happened to them? Were they really our families? I like to think that they are. Charlotte even sounded a little like I remember my mother's voice was like.
I hope they're all right, wherever they are, and whenever.
=/\=
Jonathan Archer's Personal Log, January fourteenth, 2154
I don't know what to say. This day has been, perhaps, the most mixed-up day in the history of all days. And it's not resolved. Maybe it won't ever be resolved.
We met a ship, identical to ours although worn and weathered and older. And it was manned by people claiming to be our children, grandchildren, God, one of them called me Great-great-granddaddy. I don't even have a girlfriend right now! It's unsettling.
But for T'Pol, I imagine it was worse. They claimed she was still among the living. How can such a, a temporal paradox exist?
And now we are, I think, flipped back in time. Will we meet them? Or us? It's all so confusing.
All I know is that I need to at least try to contact Richard Daniels. He's the only person I know who's successfully traveled in time – Vulcan Science Directorate be damned.
He owes us an explanation, big time.
=/\=
Charles Tucker III's Personal Log, January fourteenth, 2154
I don't get it. We met people who say they're our kids, grandkids. And mine are part-Vulcan. So T'Pol and I are together, in some way. She's kinda in denial about the whole thing. She says they were full Vulcans – you can't really tell just by looking – and there musta been some Vulcan brought in. But why the hell would that happen? Doesn't she know I care?
As for them, I don't know how I feel about them. It's flattering, in a way. But I also gotta wonder – why the hell didn't they stop the Xindi weapon from hittin' Earth? They knew about it!
=/\=
Jay Hayes's Personal Log, January fourteenth, 2154
Me and Chef's assistant? Weird. She's a good person, kinda attractive. Definitely the right age for me. But married? Me? I'm not the marrying kind.
And then there's everything else. I've been so unlucky in love I don't know where to start. So I succeeded somehow? Is there hope for me yet? Particularly after Darareaksmey Preap and then Christine Chalmers and then, God, Susan Cheshire, I gotta wonder about that, particularly as it looks like O'Day may have cheated on me. Not again; I thought I was done with that after the Chalmers debacle.
=/\=
Malcolm Reed's Personal Log, January fourteenth, 2154
Tripp Tucker once asked me if I wanted to know, in advance, about the woman I was to wed. And I said yes. I still feel that way.
And now, oddly, and in a way, I know.
Of course it's not perfect. We were evidently lovers and never wed. She was actually wife to Hayes. Strange. And what she wears! It's so very boxy! What does she look like under that assistant's uni she wears? I fear I might not like all that I see. I know that's shallow. But I would want to be, well, stimulated by her. Is there too much there? Is this all too much to ask? Am I being horribly shallow?
But she is kind. And I have noticed her eyes. They are spectacular – even better than Rochelle's ever were.
=/\=
T'Pol's Personal Log, January fourteenth, 2154
I am not so certain that the Vulcan Science Directorate is correct.
=/\=
Travis Mayweather's Personal Log, January fourteenth, 2154
I would give anything to put the stars back to where they were, just a few hours ago. What the hell just happened?