Chapter Text
A Billion Years Away
By JedWasHere
Prologue
Slowly Drifting To You
***
I’m slowly drifting to you
The stars and the planets are calling me
A billion years away from you
I’m on my way, I’m on…
I’m on…
***
Somewhere.
Painburningbetrayalwhywecouldhave…
We…
Could…
Have…
“Michael!” he called out, before clutching at his chest in agony, and slumping back onto… onto…
… a soft bed?
What?
The man glanced down at his conspicuously bare chest, but apart from from a small, thin scar where he had been stabbed, there was no sign of any injury.
What had happened? The last thing he remembered was…
We would have helped you if you had asked.
He felt a scowl appear on his face, but he dismissed the feeling. Of course she wouldn’t have helped him. Of course she wouldn’t have given up her vaunted ideals. Of course none of it would have gone right.
And, of course, Georgiou would have taken the opportunity, any opportunity, to ruin his plans, destroy the trust he’d built between himself and this other Michael, and then finally to run him through.
In the back, he thought, scowling, of course in the back.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. A whole year of planning, wasted. A whole year of fighting, torture, uncertainty mixed with… with…
No, he admonished himself, forcing himself to remain calm. It’s in the past. All in the past. Michael’s face flashed in front of him, but he pushed it away. We’re alive. We move forward. That’s the only way to go from here.
It was far easier to think that than to focus on just how much he had lost in his last gamble. Shaking his head slightly, he looked around the room, trying to ascertain just where he was and what was happening.
It looked… nice .
The walls were wood-panel, real wood too if his eyes weren’t lying to him. There were windows, though the view outside was blocked by opaque, faintly blue curtains, diffusing pale sunlight from outside. There were wicker chairs dotted about, and a library. It was warm, but not unpleasantly so.
He sat up, wincing. His chest still hurt, but he was fine otherwise. He seemed to have been dressed in a simple pair of thin pyjama trousers made from loose-fitting cotton, which gave no indication as to what sort of people he’d ended up with (except that they were probably humanoid, or at least used to working with humanoids). He stood up and looked around, trying to see if anything of his own attire had survived, but there was no sign.
That could be a good thing, if they didn’t see the insignia, he thought. If I ended up in Federation space, maybe I could get away with playing the same trick twice.
That was, of course, assuming he’d ended up in that universe. Or, for that matter, any universe he’d recognise. His bedclothes certainly didn’t seem like Starfleet standard. It was entirely possible, given multiverse theory and all the associated headaches, that he’d ended up somewhere completely different.
Would be just my luck, he thought, scowling.
Before he could consider any of this further, however, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Hello?” a female-sounding voice asked softly. “Are you awake?”
“Come in,” Lorca said, straightening subconsciously.
A woman entered: she was human, or more accurately looked human. She had pale, almost alabaster skin, strawberry blonde hair that she wore in a ponytail, and striking blue eyes. She wore a simple white robe that draped down to her ankles, and soft white slippers.
“Hello,” she said quietly, inclining her head at him. “My name is Laurien: I’m one of the nurses here. I have been taking care of you.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Gabriel Lorca,” he said, giving her his best winning smile. Best to avoid any specifics until he had a few of his own. “And, uh, I have no idea where I am.”
“This planet is called Erlös,” she said, the pronunciation somewhat strained. “We are on the outermost edge of known space here, as we prefer.” She paused, choosing not to elaborate on whoever ‘we’ referred to. “I know you have no reason to believe me…”
She was right there, he had no reason whatsoever. But he decided to do something he would never have done before his stint in the Federation’s Starfleet: give her the benefit of the doubt. He resisted the urge to snort derisively. Goin’ soft in your old age, Gabriel.
“I’m here and alive,” he said, trying to sound grateful as opposed to sardonic. “And, truth be told, I figure if I’m here and alive I’m probably not going to cease being the latter at your hands any time soon. You had plenty of opportunities to do me an injustice.”
That, of course, was discounting the potential for this to be an elaborate trap, or for them to want to pump him for information somehow. But this felt too genuine, too honest.
Definitely going soft, some voice that sounded like Katrina Cornwell said in his head.
“Indeed,” Laurien said quietly. She tilted her head. “Forgive me, but… we’re a little unsure where you come from.” She paused. “Are you… are you Federation?”
They know about the Federation, Lorca thought, smiling. That made things a little easier.
“I am,” he said with a nod. “Captain of the Federation Starship D- Starship Buran .” Be careful, Gabriel. “Although…” he added, affecting a mournful tone, “actually, I don’t even know what the state of the Buran is.”
Lying prick, the Kat-voice said. He ignored it.
“I have never heard of it,” Laurien said, inclining her head. “But I will speak with Dannik. He will contact the Federation for you.”
“Thank you,” Lorca said with a nod.
“In the meantime,” Laurien continued, “would you care for some food? We do not serve meals that you will be familiar with as standard, but I can request access to the replicator for you.”
Lorca nodded slowly. He was hungry, in point of fact. “I wouldn’t mind some grilled chicken, if your synthesiser can manage it.”
“Of course,” Laurien said, smiling. “I will return shortly.”
As she left, Lorca sat down, thoughts running through his mind. He was alive , surprisingly.
Best to remain Captain of the Buran until I get a clearer picture, he thought. He tried to remember what he could about his counterpart – the smile, the confidence, the love of fortune cookies were all things they’d apparently shared. But I’m supposed to be dead. So I need to explain why I’m not.
Well, that would be easy. He hadn’t the foggiest idea what had happened to his counterpart, after all. Most likely the man had been incinerated, but despite their differences, he was still Lorca. Maybe he had survived, somehow.
He sighed, and began thinking – he only hoped questions about his origin wouldn’t be too far gone.
There’s one piece of hope though, he thought. If Laurien knew about Starfleet, and we’re in the Federation, the war with the Klingons can’t have gone that badly.
He held onto that. Silver linings and all.
***