Chapter Text
Chapter 1 – Seeds of Fate
Liminal Space — Relative Time: March 8, Year 7
USS Relativity — Location: Genesis Zone
The ship rumbled around them, pushing the stabilizers beyond their ability to dampen the overwhelming energy.
“Distance to target?” asked an authoritative, smoky female voice.
Commander Sadira Avasarala, the first officer, stood at the front of the command platform, watching the bridge displays with growing impatience.
“Twenty-eight kilometers deeper, Commander,” Olivia responded. Her hologram wore its hair in a short blond bob—the fourth new style she had adopted that week.
Sadira’s lips pursed slightly.
“Easy, Commander,” Pax whispered from the captain’s chair. His voice was loud enough for her to hear, but not loud enough to let the rest of the crew know that he had noticed her anxiety beginning to rise.
“Twenty-one kilometers,” Olivia announced over her shoulder as she observed the liminal map displayed inside pit two.
“Font wave approaching! Twelve seconds to impact!” Ensign Kiraz called from pit one.
The young Ephisian was green-skinned, with glossy black eyes, pointed ears, and ceremonial tattoos patterned across his face.
A klaxon blared, followed by a sharp chirp over the intercom—the response to Pax moving his fingers over the command pad built into the arm of his chair.
“All hands, brace for impact!” Commander Avasarala called after Pax gave her a subtle nod.
She moved smartly back to her chair, sat, and drove its personal stabilizers to maximum.
Olivia broke her calm for only a moment, passing a worried glance toward Xia, who stood at the science console at the front of the bridge between pits one and two.
Xia bent her knees and grabbed the reinforced grips near the bottom of the panel.
“Five, four, three, two, one...” Kiraz counted nervously, his white-knuckled hands gripping the edge of his holographic console.
The ship lurched.
The wave came from below, striking the Relativity like a rising wall. Xia was knocked from her feet and slammed onto her knees, but she held on with one hand.
The sound was deafening.
Light from the surrounding liminal tube intensified until it seemed as though a sun had appeared directly on the bridge, overwhelming even the filters that had been dimming the Genesis Zone’s brilliant energetic fluid.
Everyone reacted except Olivia.
As usual, she remained physically untouched and apparently unshaken—always a strange thing to witness amid the chaos.
Within moments, the light faded.
The wave passed.
Sadira rose from her chair and returned to the front of the command platform.
“Damage report!”
Xia forced herself back to her feet. Her hands moved across the science console as she analyzed the intensity of the wave. Her right knee ached sharply, but she pushed through the pain.
“All departments checking in, Commander,” Olivia responded. “Seven injuries. Nothing serious.”
“That was the largest one yet,” Xia called loudly enough for her voice to carry across the bridge. “Seven-point-two-six megajoules.”
“Seventeen kilometers until launch depth,” Olivia announced.
“Engineering, this is the bridge,” Sadira said, opening the comm.
“Le Fae here,” Morgan’s voice answered through the speakers.
“Power up the probe and load the launch tube,” Sadira ordered.
She began counting silently, attempting to gauge the time between each kilometer so she could time the launch precisely.
“Aye, Commander,” Morgan le Fae responded.
The channel clicked closed as she got to work.
“Was that enough font-wave data to establish any kind of pattern, Commander Sulu?” Captain Pax called.
“Unfortunately, Captain, there has been no discernible pattern,” Xia answered. “I have everyone in sciences working on it. We’re doing the best we can.”
Her confidence tapered off toward the end.
“Fourteen kilometers,” Olivia called.
Sadira realized she had lost count.
“Estimate until we reach launch depth?”
“Approximately four minutes,” Olivia responded.
The ship’s rumbling seemed to intensify with every passing second. Loose objects began to clatter against consoles and bulkheads. A data pad slid from a station and struck the deck.
“I’ve lost the timeline sensor!” Lieutenant Junior Grade T’Elis called from pit three.
“It isn’t damage,” Lieutenant Grymm reported from the engineering console between pits two and three.
The Hysperian’s long hair had been pulled tightly back before the descent.
“The Genesis energy is blinding it,” he continued. “It’s receiving so much input that it can no longer distinguish usable readings. The sensor is overloading.”
“Shut down the timeline scanners, Lieutenant,” Pax ordered.
“Powering down.”
“Two minutes,” Olivia said, changing from distance to time in anticipation of the first officer’s needs.
“Engineering, status?” Sadira called as the comm activated again.
“The probe is being loaded now, Commander,” le Fae answered after several seconds.
She sounded winded.
“Olivia, when we reach the—”
“FONT WAVE INCOMING! MOVING FAST!” Ensign Kiraz shouted.
His alien voice reverberated through the bridge, its pitch betraying his surprise.
The klaxon blared.
The comm chirped.
“Brace for imp—”
Sadira was cut off as the wave arrived without a countdown or any further warning.
Before she understood what was happening, she was on the deck.
She heard something crack.
Pressure crushed against her body as if the ship had suddenly accelerated under extreme gravitational force.
A brilliant flash and a deafening crack were followed immediately by a violent, shuddering compression that overwhelmed the bridge.
The sound washed over them with such force that Pax covered his face with one hand. When he opened his eyes again, smoke and haze had swallowed most of the compartment.
The red-alert klaxon blared.
The bridge fire alarm joined it with a shrill, repetitive chime.
“Suppression systems activated,” Olivia announced through the speakers.
Her hologram had disappeared.
“Thirty seconds to launch depth.”
“Damage,” Sadira demanded through a wince from the deck.
Pax was suddenly over her, looking her body over for injuries.
“Three explosions. Nine fires,” Olivia reported. “Injury reports are still arriving. Doctor Calrissian reports that sickbay is becoming overwhelmed. I am responding in the areas I can reach with emergency holograms, but my bridge emitters are damaged.”
“Status of the probe?” Pax called.
He helped Sadira sit upright.
“Loaded and ready to launch,” le Fae answered through the speaker.
“Ten seconds,” Olivia announced.
“Le Fae, the bridge has taken damage. Multiple crew members are down. Launch in ten seconds, mark. Olivia, stop the ship when we reach launch depth.”
“Ten seconds, aye,” le Fae responded.
Pax looked across the bridge.
Xia was crumpled on the deck.
Across from her, Grymm was helping a security officer to their feet. Blood ran from a wound on the officer’s forehead.
The blast had originated inside pit two. Emergency force fields had sealed the damaged section, and Pax could see sparks flashing through the heavy smoke beyond them, briefly illuminating the pit. Its main display had gone dark.
“Ship in position,” Olivia announced.
Several long, overwhelming seconds passed.
Then le Fae’s voice came over the comm.
“Probe away, bridge,” she reported, sounding relieved.
“Olivia, take us out,” Sadira ordered immediately, having regained her feet.
Pax moved toward pit two and attempted to see what had happened inside. The upper console refused to respond.
The Relativity could move much faster out of the Genesis energy than it could descend into it. Like a nuclear control rod being withdrawn from a reactor, the energy seemed to repel the ship once it began rising. That same repulsive force was what had made navigating deeper into the zone so difficult.
The rumbling gradually began to subside.
“Sensor is back online, and the probe is transmitting telemetry,” T’Elis reported from pit three, Vulcan composure returning to her voice.
“Do we have any reading on Lieutenant West?” Pax asked, still unable to activate the upper console overlooking pit two.
“No, Captain,” Olivia answered through the speaker.
Pax looked toward the sealed pit.
“Sickbay, bridge.”
The comm chirped, but no voice answered.
“Our holograms are down, and we have numerous casualties,” Pax continued. “We suspect we have lost Lieutenant William West in pit two.”
“Call security. We can’t help you,” Vela finally responded, clearly overwhelmed.
“Security,” Pax said.
The comm chirped.
“Irons here,” came the immediate response.
“Send help to assist with casualties and damage. The rest of the ship is overwhelmed.”
Only then did Pax notice that Sadira had sat down again.
She was cradling her left arm. A section of bone protruded through the skin of her forearm—an injury he somehow had not noticed when he was closer to her.
“On our way, Captain,” Irons responded, his tone characteristically flat.
Within moments, a host of officers from security beamed onto the bridge in rapid flashes of light and sound.
Two of them carefully lifted Xia and rushed her out.
Sadira took another officer’s arm and limped toward the turbolift.
The injured security officer was relieved at their station and managed to walk to the lift under their own power.
Pax returned to the captain’s chair and began absorbing the increasingly detailed damage and casualty reports.
There were many critical injuries, including Commander Sulu, but thus far only one confirmed fatality.
William West.
West had been recruited from an emergent alternate timeline discovered during the Relativity’s detailed scans of the prime universe.
His family had become lost during the early years of space exploration. The pilot and science officer aboard their vessel had eventually had a child: William.
The detached timeline had begun collapsing when one member of the family attempted to create a time portal to undo their becoming lost. Instead, the attempt created a localized temporal anomaly that ultimately destroyed an entire planet.
William had been the only survivor.
Now he was gone, like the rest of his family.
He had been a good officer. Raised in deep space, he had adapted quickly to the Relativity and embraced its assignment. His advancement had been unusually fast, and he had recently earned the rank of lieutenant junior grade.
Now he had become the first casualty the ship had ever experienced.
That distinction lasted only a few minutes.
Sickbay soon reported that Lieutenant Morgan Stark, who had been near one of the explosions in engineering, had also died.
Pax exhaled heavily and lowered his face into his hands.
“Lieutenant Grymm, what is your status?” he called across the bridge.
“Sir?” Grymm answered, confused by the question.
“Are you injured? Are you compromised?”
“No, sir. I’m a little shaken up, but I’m all right.”
Several strands of his long blond hair had fallen loose across his face.
“Then you have the conn, Lieutenant. I will be in sickbay. Get a team up here as soon as possible to restore Olivia’s emitters. When we have exited the Genesis Zone entirely and reached stable liminal space, bring the ship to a full stop.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Pax hurried toward the turbolift.
The doors opened.
Olivia waited inside.
Her hair was now pitch black. She wore dark lipstick, heavy black eyeliner and eyeshadow, and her skin appeared almost unnaturally pale.
“Another new look, eh?” Pax asked as the doors hissed shut behind him.
“I can’t believe we lost people,” Olivia said. “I can’t believe this happened.”
“Lock the door.”
Olivia looked at him, confused.
Normally, Pax only gave the lift a destination. He had never before asked for privacy inside it.
“Locked,” she said, lowering her gaze.
“These will not be the last people we lose,” Pax told her. “I know this is difficult, but we have watched so many people die. Death is not new to us. It is only new when it happens to us.”
Olivia remained silent.
“We need you to try as hard as you can to remain strong for the crew,” Pax continued. “Something like this can break a crew, or it can make one. You are one of the most important members of this ship. One of its founders, I believe they call us.”
He studied her severe appearance.
“Please... no sad makeup?”
Olivia’s appearance shifted.
Her hair returned to its natural red. Freckles appeared across her pale skin, and the dark makeup faded into something lighter, warmer, and almost cheerful.
“I can change how I look,” she said sheepishly, “but not how I feel.”
“I am not asking you to suppress anything. I am asking you to find whatever strength you can so the crew can draw from it. They need us both.”
He paused.
“Release the door and take us to deck two.”
“Yes, Captain. Door lock released.”
Only moments later, the doors opened.
Crew members flowed through the corridor beyond, which had become a makeshift trauma-triage area. Security personnel carrying dermal regenerators and hyposprays treated the least seriously injured. More critical patients were carried or hurried directly into sickbay.
Pax passed among them, offering nods and placing a reassuring hand on a shoulder here and there as he made his way inside.
Every bed was occupied.
Crew members sat or lay on the floor, and Pax could see that the surgical suite was full.
“The chief is in surgery,” Doctor Shepherd called.
He was relatively new to the crew. In his original life, he had been a surgeon in Seattle, but had died in an incident involving a car. Vela had requested that he be saved so he could join her medical team.
Shepherd was examining Xia, who appeared to have suffered neurological injuries.
“In my time, I would have needed to take her into surgery to treat this brain bleed,” he said. “Now I use this wand-like device, and boom... all done.”
He moved away from the bed and approached Pax and Olivia.
“She will be fine. The pressure in her brain means she needs to remain with us for several hours while she heals, but she will be fine.”
“What about the others?” Pax asked, looking around the crowded sickbay.
“We are doing the best we can. The emergency holograms are helping. The chief is working on another critical patient, Ensign Ira from Telanis Four. She was found in her quarters after a nearby junction ruptured. The compartment filled with smoke, and she suffered severe burns.”
Shepherd glanced toward the surgical suite.
“We expect that she may recover, but her skin has been difficult to treat. The normal dermal-regeneration techniques would not work. The chief may use something called Bacta, but not until she debrides the worst of the burns.”
He shook his head.
“We cannot make any promises. The rest should recover, including the first officer. She is upstairs having her arm properly set now.”
He began to turn away.
“I need to get back to it, if that is all right, sir.”
“Of course, Doctor.”
Pax moved up the stairs to the upper level in search of Sadira.
“Oh. Hello, sir,” Sadira said as he approached. “They gave me a very nice analgesic. I’m feeling much better.”
She sounded slightly loopy, but her arm had already been wrapped and appeared mostly healed.
“This bandage will facilitate rapid fusion of the bones,” the new Vulcan nurse, T’Mir, explained. “Within several hours, she will be as good as new.”
T’Mir immediately moved on to the next patient.
“That was the final probe, Commander,” Pax said. “The deepest one we needed to plant. We can now begin the survey of the timeline’s foundation, check it for variance, and monitor the region for as long as the probes survive the waves.”
He glanced toward the deck, as though he could see through the ship and into the Genesis Zone below them.
“They should also provide critical information about the fonts themselves—and perhaps indicate where they emerge from.”
He looked back at Sadira.
“So, good work. This was your mission, after all.”
“You finished it for me,” Sadira said. “Thank you for that, Captain.”
“It was a team effort.”
Pax’s expression darkened.
“It cost us two crew members, and one more is still on the table.”
Sadira looked down.
Perhaps it was the medication, but her composure slipped in a rare and unguarded show of emotion.
“Fuck,” she said coldly.
“Indeed.”
Pax raised his eyebrows slightly.
“It may take time to sort through all of this, but once the ship is functioning again and the injured have been cared for, we will begin reviewing the probe data.”
He looked toward the walls around them.
“And we will hope we never have to descend into that zone again.”
Sadira shook her head.
The weight of duty and command pressed down upon her after years in which the ship had operated in relative safety. She knew this experience would remain with her.
She felt responsible.
She had always understood the risk, but over time she had grown overconfident. Somewhere along the way, she had begun to believe that they were above this kind of loss—that the Relativity was somehow beyond ordinary vulnerability.
The sting of discovering they were not invincible would take a long time to fade.
“I have more I need to do,” Pax said, forcing a slight grin. “But I am glad you are on the mend.”
“As soon as I am able, I will resume management of the mission,” Sadira said.
Even through the medication, she took several seconds to formulate the response and perform the necessary estimate.
“I suspect only a few more weeks remain before our mapping of this sector is complete.”
Pax moved on.
He toured the ship, surveying the damage, offering support, and passing along the bad news where it had not yet reached.
An hour later, while he stood in engineering watching the repair work le Fae had been conducting, the comm chirped.
“Captain, this is Doctor Calrissian.”
“Pax here.”
“I am out of surgery. It went well. The ensign is being infused with Bacta, and I expect she will return to duty within several weeks.”
There was a short pause.
“We have not yet recovered Lieutenant West’s remains, but the damage-control team is working on it.”
“Understood. Once he has been recovered, we will arrange services,” Pax said solemnly.
“It was a difficult day, Captain, but I have the situation back under control. Thank you for your understanding.”
It was the closest Vela would come to apologizing for having been overwhelmed and difficult during the crisis.
“Understood, Doctor.”
The comm chirped closed.
“Difficult day?” le Fae said sarcastically from behind her welding mask as she worked to seal a damaged bulkhead. “This is going to be a difficult month for me.”
“I appreciate everything you have done,” Pax said, his old engineering instincts immediately returning. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Actually, yes, sir.”
Le Fae gestured toward a nearby tool bench without looking up.
“Take that spanner over there and tell me the tolerance of this gap.”