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Star Trek: Primitive Passenger -*- Posting all 60 episodes in 60 days! -*-
Season 1, Episode 1 “Shatterpoint”
Darkness. Complete and absolute.
A sharp, panicked inhale. Followed by a slow ragged exhale. Dim lights flicker to life, revealing the silhouette of a man lying on his back. Another panicked long scraping inhale, Nolan Mercer's eyes snap open, wild and unfocused. Slowly he forces a long gurgling exhale.
A latticework of thin golden wires radiate outward from his head, and thick black tubes protrude from his mouth and nose.
Now more intense, another long inhale rattled in his chest as awareness flooded back. His hands tore away from the wires and tubes that seemed to emanate from his entire body. His hands breaking free, he wildly clawed at the tubes in his nose and mouth.
Another brutal inhale, and the tubes began to slide out of his nose and mouth as he forced the exhale. Unable to breathe, thrashing desperately against his constraints and the small pod that enclosed him. The structure, unable to withstand the onslaught, burst open with a hiss of escaping steam.
Fingers scrabbled at the wires and tubes, tearing them away with desperate energy.
Nolan gagged and coughed as he pulled the invasive apparatus from his body. The tubes seemed endless, sliding out of his nose, his mouth, his lungs, his stomach. Each tug brought a fresh wave of panic, manifested in increasingly frantic inhales that scraped against his raw throat.
As the last tube slithered free, Nolan's coughing intensified. His body convulsed, trying to expel whatever foreign substances remained in his system. But the panic had taken hold, and there was no time for relief.
Nolan tumbled out of the pod, his pale, naked body hitting the cold metal floor with a dull thud. For a moment, he lay there, shivering and gasping. Steam rose from his skin as it met the chilled air around him, he tried to lift his head and raise his body onto his hands and elbows.
Overcome by the shock and strain, Nolan's eyelids fluttered as his eyes rolled back. He slipped into darkness.
-*-
Consciousness returned to Nolan Mercer in waves, each one bringing with it a new sensation. First came the cold—a bone-deep chill that made him shiver uncontrollably. Then, pain—a raw, burning ache in his throat that made every breath a struggle. Finally, disorientation—a profound sense of displacement that left him reeling even as he lay motionless on the hard floor.
Nolan's eyes forced open, struggling to focus in the dim light. The world around him was a blur of shadows and indistinct shapes. He blinked hard, willing his vision to clear, but the effort only intensified the pounding in his head.
With a groan that came out as little more than a rasp, Nolan pushed himself up onto his elbows. The simple movement left him dizzy and nauseous. He squinted, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Slowly, the blur resolved into angular metal walls, dotted with tiny, blinking lights.
Where am I? The thought echoed in his mind, but when he tried to voice it, only a painful croak escaped his lips.
Shivering, Nolan became acutely aware of his nakedness. He looked around for something—anything—to cover himself, but the vast chamber seemed devoid of anything but cold metal and shadows.
On unsteady legs, Nolan pulled himself to his feet, using the podl for support. The world tilted alarmingly, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to keep from falling. When he opened them again, he noticed a faint glow coming from what looked like a control panel a few meters away.
Step by shaky step, Nolan made his way toward the light. His fingers, numb with cold, fumbled over the smooth surface of the panel. Suddenly, it lit up, responding to his touch. Nolan jerked back in surprise, nearly losing his balance.
The panel flickered to life, displaying a series of unfamiliar symbols and diagrams. Nolan stared at it, baffled. His eyes darted across the screen, searching for anything recognizable, but it all seemed alien to him.
Frustration welled up inside him as he realized he couldn't make sense of any of it. He tried to speak again, to call out for help, but his damaged throat produced only a painful wheeze.
Nolan's gaze fell on a pulsing blue icon in the corner of the screen. Desperate for any kind of progress, he reached out and tapped it. The screen changed, now showing what appeared to be a map of his immediate surroundings. A blinking dot indicated his location, and a path of soft blue lights suddenly illuminated on the floor, leading away into the darkness.
He hesitated, casting one last look around the cavernous room. Still baffled by his surroundings but seeing no other option, Nolan decided to follow the guiding lights. Each step was a struggle, his muscles protesting the effort, but the promise of answers—and perhaps warmth—drove him forward.
As he shuffled along, questions tumbled through Nolan's mind. How had he gotten here? What was this place? And why couldn't he remember anything before waking up in that pod? The lack of answers only added to his growing sense of unease.
The blue lights led him to a doorway that slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a brightly lit room beyond. Nolan squinted against the sudden glare, raising a hand to shield his eyes. As his vision adjusted, he saw a shining metal bed surrounded by various medical devices he didn't recognize.
Nolan hesitated for a moment, a flicker of apprehension passing through him. But the promise of relief from his discomfort won out, and he carefully lowered himself onto the bed. As soon as he was settled, a warm blanket descended over him, and he felt the sting of an injection in his arm.
A wave of drowsiness washed over him, and Nolan felt his eyelids growing heavy. His last conscious thought before drifting off was of his wife, Hitomi Rai. Sunlight playing through the trees as she smiled at him.
-*-
The sterile air of the medical bay filled Nolan's lungs as he slowly regained consciousness. The soft hum of unfamiliar machinery surrounded him, a stark contrast to the cold silence he'd experienced earlier. His eyes fluttered open, squinting against the bright, clinical light that flooded the room.
Nolan pushed himself up on his elbows, the movement sending a dull ache through his body. He was surprised to find himself covered by a thin, heated blanket, a welcome change from his earlier nakedness. As his vision cleared, he took in his surroundings with a mixture of confusion and apprehension.
The room was unlike any he'd ever seen. Sleek, metallic surfaces gleamed under the harsh lighting. Strange devices blinked and whirred around him, their purpose a complete mystery. For a moment, Nolan wondered if he was dreaming—or if he'd somehow been taken to some kind of secret, advanced government facility.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Nolan winced as his feet touched the cool floor. He stood unsteadily, clutching the blanket around his shoulders. His eyes darted around the room, searching for anything familiar, anything that might explain where he was.
A large screen on the wall caught his attention. Unlike the incomprehensible symbols he'd seen earlier, this display showed what looked like a blueprint—intricate and vast. Nolan shuffled closer, his brow furrowed in concentration. The layout seemed to depict corridors, rooms, and larger open spaces, all interconnected in a complex web.
Nolan reached out to touch the screen. To his surprise, the image responded to his touch, zooming in on the section he'd pressed. The detail was incredible, showing smaller rooms, strange symbols he couldn't decipher, and what looked like moving dots traversing the corridors.
A chill ran down Nolan's spine as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. This wasn't just a building or even a complex—it was too vast, too intricate. The moving dots, the strange machinery, the clinical cleanliness that seemed almost unreal... Nothing about this place made sense to him.
Overwhelmed by confusion and a growing sense of panic, Nolan stumbled back from the screen. His throat, still raw from the tubes, burned as he swallowed hard. He needed answers, but he had no idea where to start looking for them in this alien environment.
Finally, unable to contain his frustration any longer, Nolan spoke aloud, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper: "Where the hell am I?"
"You are aboard the Ncanite Vessel Stroutch, Commander Mercer. How may I assist you?" a calm female voice seemed to emanate from all around.
Nolan's eyes widened in disbelief. He spun around, searching for the source of the voice, his heart pounding in his chest. "Who’s there? Show yourself." he croaked, his voice growing stronger with urgency.
"I am the Evolved Learning and Autonomous Response Agent, or ELARA, the artificial intelligence system of this vessel," the voice replied. "I do not have a physical form to show you.”
Nolan slumped to the wall, gently and repeatedly banging his head against the lighted panel.
"You seem to be in distress, Commander. Would you be more comfortable if you returned to the command module?"
Nolan sat on the edge of the bed, his mind reeling. An artificial intelligence? A vessel? None of this made any sense. But as impossible as it seemed, the voice—ELARA—was offering answers he needed.
"No, don’t put me back in that thing." Nolan managed to say, his voice like gravel in a blender. "Please... explain everything."
"As you are aware, The Stroutch was created for your use in curtailing the Mestat war, your task is now completed and the Ncanite have released you from Service. They have gifted you with the Stroutch as a reward for your victory. "
"What service? What victory?“ Nolan felt like his head was full of rocks, nothing quite made sense.
As Elara explained, Nolan's confusion only grew. He struggled to process the information about the Ncanite, the Stroutch, and a war he had no memory of fighting.
"This doesn't make any sense," Nolan said, shaking his head. "How long have I been here?"
"For the past 12 dozecs you have commanded the Ncanite forces to ward off and defeat the Mestat Alliance."
"What the hell is a dozec?"
Elara paused, as if considering how to explain. "A dozec is a unit of time used by the Ncanite. It's the time required for both moons to complete one rotation of the Ncanite home world."
Nolan ran a hand over his stubbled skull, feeling a million tiny holes where the wires had come out. "That doesn't help me. Can you convert it to something I understand? Like days or weeks?"
"I'm afraid I don't have a frame of reference for your units of time, Commander.”
Nolan took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Okay, let's try this. I'll count to 60. That's one minute for me. Can you measure that and use it as a basis?"
"Certainly, Commander. Please proceed."
As Nolan counted, he could almost feel Elara's attention on him. “That 60 count is one minute in my time. 60 minutes is one hour, and 24 hours is one day – the time it takes for my planet to make one rotation. 365 days is one year – the time it takes for my planet to circle our sun.”
“That’s very interesting Commander, I have no additional information regarding this planet. Please upload or input the planet’s database for my systems to review.” Elara replied, drifting off track.
“So now can you tell me how many hours or days in a dozec? How long have I been here?”
"Based on your count, I can extrapolate that 12 dozecs would be approximately equivalent to one point six million of your ‘hours’, or more accurately, 180 of your ‘years’."
Nolan felt the blood drain from his face. "One hundred and eighty years? That's… I can't have been here that long." Nolan looked up “We don’t live that long.”
"I assure you, Commander, my calculations are correct. You have been here with me for 12 dozecs.”
Nolan pulled the heated blanket around himself, its warmth contrasting with the cold floors and feel of everything around him. The med bay door opened and he made his way back to the large open room he had come from earlier. His bare feet on the metal floor sounded like a duck walking through a puddle. Flap flap flap…
“Do we have heat? Clothing? Nolan said aloud, not knowing if anyone was listening. A panel in the wall opened near the door he had just come from. There Nolan found a full set of clothes. Heavy black pants, black boots, and a couple layers of shirts and jackets. All of the clothing was obvious and familiar to him, though he couldn’t identify any of the materials they were constructed from. The articles were not plastic or rubber, nor were they fabric and leather.
But everything fit, and Nolan felt a bit more human once he was dressed. He did notice that all of the clothing seemed unused, as though he hadn’t worn it before. He also felt a slight and slow warming of the room around him.
“We’re on a vessel?” Nolan asked, looking around the large room. “Where can I go to see outside? Try to see where we are.”
The console Nolan had used earlier lit up. Now a blue light in the bottom left corner of the console flashed, he tapped it, hoping he would get another lighted path to a viewing deck or even an exit door. The entire wall in front of Nolan flickered from black to grey, then…
SPACE.
-*-
The viewscreen before Nolan was enormous, 12 feet high, 30 or 40 feet long, and following the curvature of the wall. But the screen seemed too small for the endless star field of open space that stretched beyond the bounds of Nolan’s mind.
He just stood and stared. “Can you hear me?” he asked aloud.
“Yes Commander, I can hear you anywhere on the ship.”
“Where are we – where is this ship?”
“We are on the edge of the… the translation is difficult, ‘small rocks galaxy’ is the Ncanite reference.” Elara paused. “I assumed you would recognize your home galaxy Commander, I have no additional information on this area of space.”
“I’m in SPACE. This vessel is a spaceship. And I’ve been in space for one hundred and eighty years.” Nolan stated out loud, as that made it all real. “So Elara, who else is on this ship? How many other people? Am I in any danger here?”
“You are Commander of the Ncanite fleet, and the Ncanite Vessel: Stroutch. There is no need for other entities, or people if you prefer.”
“So it’s you and me and the Ncanite fleet?” Nolan said looking up, “and each ship in the fleet has a Commander like me?”
“Allow me to clarify Commander. The fleet has been decommissioned, and remains in the Ncanite galaxy, we are only one ship - The Stroutch. And you are unique amongst all members of two galaxies. You are the Commander.”
Nolan pressed his palms against his head. "What about Earth? Do you have any information about a planet called Earth?"
"I have no record of a planet by that designation in my database," Elara responded. "Is this your planet of origin?"
"Yes," Nolan said, his voice hollow. "How am I supposed to find my way home if you don't even know what Earth is?"
"I can analyze stellar cartography data as we travel. With sufficient stellar reference points, it may be possible to eventually determine your planet's location."
Nolan's shook his head.
"Commander, I am detecting several system irregularities that require your authorization to correct," Elara said, interrupting his thoughts.
Nolan turned to the nearest console, which displayed a series of symbols that looked like abstract artwork. "I can't read any of this," he said, frustration creeping into his voice.
"My apologies, Commander. Your neural interface appears to be offline. I can reactivate it, but you will need to authorize the procedure from the primary command console."
"Neural interface?" Nolan's hand instinctively went to his head, feeling along his scalp until his fingers detected a small, hard bump just behind his right ear. "What is this thing?"
"The neural interface allows you to comprehend and interact with all ship systems. It also functions as a translation matrix for communication with other species."
Nolan approached the console hesitantly. "What do I need to do?"
"Please place your hand on the biometric scanner and I will begin the reactivation sequence."
Nolan located what appeared to be a handprint outline on the console's surface and placed his palm on it. The surface illuminated beneath his hand.
"Warning: Reactivation of neural systems may cause temporary discomfort," Elara stated.
"Define 'discomfort'," Nolan said, suddenly wary.
Before Elara could respond, a jolt of electricity shot from the console into Nolan's palm, racing up his arm and into his skull. White-hot pain exploded behind his eyes as the neural pathways reactivated.
Nolan's vision whited out completely. He felt his body convulse and collapse to the floor, his consciousness slipping away as the pain overwhelmed him.
-*-
When Nolan came to, he was again lying on the cold floor of the bridge. His head throbbed, but something was different. He shook himself to clarity.
"Commander?" Elara's voice had a note of concern. "Your vital signs indicate you've regained consciousness. Are you functional?"
Nolan groaned and pulled himself up, using the console for support. "That was a hell of a lot more than 'discomfort,' Elara." He blinked at the console readouts, surprised to find he could understand them. "Wait, I can read this now." The symbols on the console were no longer incomprehensible—they had transformed into readable text.
"The neural interface is functioning properly. You now have full access to all ship systems and translation capabilities."
Nolan scrolled through the information displayed on the console. Ship diagnostics, navigation charts, sensor readings—all now perfectly understandable.
"So this chip in my head... it just translates everything?"
"It interfaces directly with your auditory and visual cortex, intercepting signals before they reach your conscious mind and translating them to a form you can comprehend. It also translates your speech and gestures for others."
Nolan rubbed the small bump behind his ear, disturbed by the thought of something interfering with his brain functions without his knowledge.
"Are there any other surprises in my head I should know about?" he asked warily.
"No other neural implants are present. The interface was necessary for your command functions during the Mestat conflict."
Nolan sighed, still struggling to accept that he'd apparently been involved in a war he couldn't remember. "So what now? I'm just... drifting in space, completely lost, with no memory of how I got here or what I did for the past 180 years?"
"That appears to be an accurate assessment of your situation, Commander."
Nolan barked out a laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Great. That's just great."
He stared at the starfield on the viewscreen, the enormity of his situation settling over him like a physical weight. After a moment, he straightened his shoulders.
"Elara, what can you tell me about this region of space? Are there inhabited systems nearby? Any outposts, space stations, anything?"
"Long-range sensors are detecting several energy signatures that may indicate technological civilizations within a 20 light-year radius. Would you like me to display their locations?"
"Yes, show me."
The viewscreen shifted to display a three-dimensional map of nearby space, with several points highlighted at various distances from their position.
Nolan studied the map, his mind working. "Can we send probes to these locations? I need to know what we're dealing with out here."
"Affirmative. The Stroutch is equipped with various probe types for reconnaissance purposes."
"How many can we deploy?"
"Currently, we have 24 long-range probes available. They can travel at maximum speed for limited durations and transmit data back to us in real-time."
Nolan nodded, making his decision. "Launch three probes toward the closest energy signatures. Let's find out who our neighbors are."
"Launching probes," Elara confirmed. On the viewscreen, three small objects detached from the ship and streaked away in different directions. "Estimated time to destination for Probe One: 14 hours."
Nolan nodded, watching as the probes disappeared into the darkness. A sudden, hollow feeling in his stomach reminded him of more immediate concerns.
"Elara, what about food? Water? I'm guessing there's no cafeteria on this ship."
"Nutritional requirements for the commander are typically handled through the sustenance delivery system in your command pod," Elara replied matter-of-factly. "The system provides all necessary nutrients and hydration in a highly efficient manner."
Nolan's face fell as realization dawned on him. "You mean those tubes I ripped out of my body? That was my food supply?"
"Correct. The delivery system is still fully functional and calibrated to your specific physiological needs."
With a groan, Nolan made his way back to the center of the bridge where his pod lay open, the tangle of tubes still draped over its edge. A puddle of… ‘something’ below them. He picked up one of the larger tubes, examining the end with distaste.
"So I'm supposed to... what? Stick this back down my throat?"
"That would be the optimal method for nutrient delivery, yes."
Nolan grimaced. "There's no other food on this ship? No emergency rations or anything?"
"There are no food stores on the Stroutch, it is a command vessel for war.” Was that a hint of indignity? “The sustenance system is the only nutritional option available."
Reluctantly, Nolan brought the end of the tube to his mouth and gave it a tentative taste. His face immediately contorted in disgust, and he spat repeatedly.
"God, that's awful!" he exclaimed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "It tastes like that time I drank a whole bottle of tequila and puked it back up, only worse."
"Taste is irrelevant to its nutritional value," Elara pointed out.
"Easy for you to say," Nolan muttered. He stared at the tube for a long moment, then sighed heavily. "So these are my options? Starve to death or..." he gestured at the tube.
"Those appear to be the immediate options, yes."
Nolan ran a hand over his stippled scalp, still tingling from the golden leads that had pierced through. He weighed his choices. "Fourteen hours until the first probe reaches something that might have, I don't know, actual food?"
"Correct. However, there is no guarantee that the civilization there will be compatible with your digestive system or willing to engage in trade."
"I can hold out 14 hours."He surveyed the large empty bridge, “How about a CHAIR? Can I get a chair to pass my 14 hours on?”
There was a brief pause before Elara responded. "I can fabricate something suitable."
"You can just... make a chair?" Nolan asked skeptically.
"The ship is equipped with industrial level replicators to allow our tenders to make repairs. Manufacturing capabilities are required for wartime repairs. I can have a tender unit construct a chair to human specifications."
"Manufacturing capabilities?" Nolan's eyebrows rose. "How big is this ship exactly?"
"The Stroutch is an open blown and spun design, It has a vast open hold as all Command ships, and can be modified for additional uses as well." Elara explained. "Would you like me to display a schematic?"
"Later," Nolan said, still processing the fact that he'd been exploring only a tiny fraction of the vessel. "Just get me a chair for now."
"Fabrication in progress," Elara announced. "It will be complete in approximately seven minutes."
"Would you like me to continue the overview of ship systems while we wait?"
Nolan leaned against the console, "Might as well. Start with weapons and defenses. If we're going to be meeting the neighbors, I want to know what we're bringing to the party."
As Elara began describing the ship's considerable armaments, Nolan found himself losing focus. He tugged on hazy memories of his home, his family. He felt like he should understand more, remember more clearly… He wondered what kind of commander he had been during those 180 missing years. Had he been a warrior? A diplomat? A tyrant? And more importantly—what had he become now?
Whatever the answer, one thing was becoming increasingly clear: if he was going to survive out here in this alien region of space, he would need to adapt quickly. His old life was gone—180 years gone. All that remained was the path forward, into the brutal unknown.
-*-
Epilogue:
Nolan sat alone in the chair Elara had fabricated, watching data from the probes trickle down the screen. Somewhere out there, maybe, was Earth. But out here - this silence, this vast unknown - this was his whole world now.
He wasn’t sure who he had been. But he was beginning to understand who he needed to become.