Mirror Mirror...

Posted on Thu Oct 13th, 2011 @ 2:50pm by Captain Nathan Cowell MD

Mission: Tomorrow's Arizona
Location: Various
Timeline: The day after 'Getting a handle on things'

[Commodore Cowell's Quarters, USS Arizona]

Commodore Nathan Cowell rolled over lazily in his bed, he hadn't slept worth a damn all night and was starting to get the feeling he wasn't going to be able to. The events of the last few days had begun to sink in, the stress of knowing that they may not be able to get home any time soon was starting to become a real possibility. To call the situation bleak was being optimistic, a better word for it might be somewhere near the area of hopeless. Even Nathan had to admit that his usual brand of pessimism just didn't do their plight justice...

The old man threw the sheets off the bed and pushed himself slowly off his bed, careful not to go too fast lest he miss his footing. He silently wondered as his feet finally touched the ground who had come up with the notion that the bed had to be raised off the deck so damn high. Back on Earth, Nathan's own bed rested rather comfortably on the floor, making ingress and egress from the thing rather easy. Strolling into his living area, garbed in the flannel pajamas styled after the clothing of the early 20th century on Earth, Nathan replicated himself a glass of sweet tea and settled into his recliner. The chair was another relic from the distant past, though it was kept up, arguably, better than even Nathan himself was. Aside from a few cigarette burns that he had opted not to reupholster for sentimental reasons, the thing looked almost brand new. Reaching over to the end table sitting off to his left, Nathan procured the remote that worked the display sitting against the wall the recliner was facing and pressed a few buttons until he found something worth watching.

The show that flashed up on the screen was from somewhere in the 1960s, a variety show featuring sketch comedy from the period. Nathan couldn't remember ever watching it, and left it on while he enjoyed a quiet early morning. The small chronometer display in the upper right of the screen told Nathan that it was roughly 0500 hours, which was plenty of time for him to enjoy nearly three whole hours of mind numbing television from the distant past before he had to go to the bridge and start another day filled with with unknown dangers. At least... that would have been the case if not for the sudden chirp of the comm system.

"Bridge to Commodore Cowell," the voice of one of the third shift bridge officers called out unexpectedly.

"What, dammit! I'm trying to catch up on my shows..." the Commodore replied angrily.

"We've received the information you asked the Borg Cube for, I thought you'd like to see it since you were up," the man on the other end remarked nervously.

'Damn that computer...' Nathan growled internally before replying, "I'm on my way..."

The cracking sound of the link being severed told Nathan that he was once more alone in his quarters. He thought about putting it off for another hour or so, but with the tension surrounding the ship, even his usual procrastination was most likely not in the best taste. The old man glanced over to the dresser that he'd put his next day's uniform on for a moment before frowning at it. He wasn't on duty and he wasn't about to get dressed just to look at some sensor images. His mind made up, the old man, still dressed in his night attire, shuffled to where his slippers sat just on the other side of the wall between the living room and his bedroom. Once they were on his feet, he trudged reluctantly toward the door of his quarters, forgetting to turn the display off behind him.

[Bridge, USS Arizona]

The flannel clad figure of Commodore Cowell emerged from the turbolift, greeted by the quick glances of the bridge crew. Had he been any other man, he was certain the glances would have turned into stares. Thankfully, he was not anyone else and the crew was less than eager to incur his wrath for such behavior. The watch officer, a young Lieutenant garbed teal, waited patiently next to the Commodore's chair. Nathan had seen him get out of Col. DeVries' chair rather than his, which meant that his long standing rule of people never putting ass cheeks in his chair was still being followed. That alone put him in just a good enough mood to forget that he was on the bridge way too damn early in the morning.

"What's going on?" Nathan asked as he approached and summarily flopped his tired body into his center chair.

"Well sir, the Borg Cube just sent us the locations of human population centers in the region," the man offered rather quickly. The withering glare that he was greeted with after revealing nothing that he didn't already know prompted the Lieutenant to elaborate. The man approached the console adjacent to the First Officer's station and tapped a few commands, prompting the view screen to shift from the standard forward facing view to a tactical representation of the quadrant. The highlighted areas indicated the population centers he was talking about, and it also made Nathan acutely aware of why he was so nervous. If the Borg projections were accurate, a full three quarters of the population within the Federation had been wiped out in the intervening three hundred years. Nathan scrutinized the map for a while before settling on the largest population center in the local area.

"Helm, change your course to this heading," Nathan said, tapping his arm rest imbedded console a few times with the heading he wanted, "And relay the information to our escort ships. We're going to say hello to our great great grandchildren."

"Aye sir," the helmsman replied as she made the required course adjustments.

"Is that all you needed?" Nathan asked the watch officer in a gruff tone.

"Yes, Commodore... I just thought you might want to see that before we got too much farther along in our current course," the man said with a nod.

"Right... I'm going back to my shows..." Nathan said, "And if we get there before I get back up here, just give me a call."

"Aye sir," the Lieutenant responded before watching the Commodore shuffle back to the turbolift and disappear within its confines. The man let out a rather exaggerated sigh before planting himself back in the First Officer's chair.

[Two hours later, Bridge, USS Arizona]

Commodore Nathan Cowell, now dressed in his uniform, walked onto the bridge with far more purpose than he had a few hours before. He was again greeted by the same Science Officer he'd seen not long ago, only this time as his relief. The man informed Nathan that the ship was rapidly approaching his desired coordinates before taking his leave, given that all the important items had been passed down in a rather impromptu manner earlier. Nathan took his seat in the center chair and waited as the bridge around him went through the morning transition. One by one, the officers that were assigned to the first shift came on, receiving their own briefings before taking up their individual stations. Col. DeVries and Cmdr. Aix had no such relief officers to be briefed by, which meant they simply arrived and took their positions. OPS and CONN, as well as the tactical station, where really the only stations manned at night which made much of the transition rather effortless.

"So, old man, I heard you came up here in your pajamas a little while ago. Pretty bold for an old man..." Stace said with a smirk as she took her seat just forward the Commodore.

"Well, if someone had trained his department a little better," Nathan grunted, his eyes drilling holes in the back of Spots' head, "I wouldn't have had to drag my wrinkled ass out of my chair at oh dark thirty to play wet nurse to grown ass men..."

Aix turned to the Commodore and gave him a rather unapologetic shrug, "I can't help that the crew hangs on your every barked order."

Stace laughed at the retort, "Well he's got you there, old man."

Nathan rolled his eyes impatiently and was about to launch a retort when he was interrupted by Ens. Akron, "We're entering the indicated star system. Dropping out of warp now."

Nathan watched as the screen shifted to that of normal space, a small planet hanging in the distance. The helmsman confirmed that all the ships had dropped out of warp and were currently cruising at impulse. The system they had dropped out of warp into, in their time, was a small colony system not too far from the Briar Patch. Its proximity to the region gave it a good deal of natural protection against sensor scans thanks to the odd assortment of radiated energy that seemed to drift through the system. While relatively harmless to planets with active magnetic fields, it played hell on long range sensors and even gave short range and navigational sensors a run for their money. In all, the perfect hiding spot for people that wanted to avoid being found at all costs.

"Captain," the voice of Lieutenant Broca called out from his console next to Ens. Akron, "I'm reading several ships approaching us, unknown class but definitely Federation in origin."

"What's the status of their weapons and shields?" Nathan asked.

"Shields are up but their weapons don't appear to be armed," the voice of Lieutenant Lischka called out from behind the Commodore.

Nathan nodded and rubbed his chin for a moment in thought before issuing orders, "Helm, full stop. Mr. Bronco, make sure the Borg vessels are aware that we're not going to engage the approaching vessels unless they turn hostile. Ms. Lischka, have shields on standby but only raise them if these newcomers power up weapons."

Silent nods and the tapping of command consoles was acknowledgement enough for the old man as he waited for the ships they had encountered to make the first move. The Arizona sat motionless for several minutes as the ships rapidly approached them, the view screen showing them more and more details as the ships grew closer. The hull designs did indeed look futuristic when compared to their own Prometheus-class hull, but they weren't much bigger than the Arizona, which made it entirely possible to surmise that resources were hard to come by and large ship construction during this current age of strife was impractical.

"We're being hailed, Commodore," Lt. Broca announced from his console.

"On screen," Nathan said as he stood up.

The screen blinked off for a split second before being replaced with the face and upper torso of the commanding officer of the ship that had approached them. Everyone on the Arizona bridge did a rather noticeable double take to confirm that what they were seeing was real. Before the eyes of the bridge crew sat the form of their Commodore... but it wasn't...

"Well I'll be damned..." the figure on the screen said in the same voice and manner that Nathan always spoke in, "Either someone's playing the worst practical joke I've ever had the misfortune of being apart of... or you're me."

"The hell I am!" Nathan barked at himself, "You're the damn imposter around here."

The man on the screen chuckled, "Yeah... you're me alright... bit younger by the looks of you, but still me. Trouble is... you shouldn't be here..."

"No shit..." Nathan grumbled, "But here we are... Mexican stand-off and all. So what do you want to do now? Stare at each other all day?"

"How about I come over and we have a chat?" the future incarnation of the Commodore remarked.

"Works for me," Nathan shrugged, "I'm sure you can find your way to my Ready Room once you get here."

"Unless you've changed shit around, yeah," the man on the screen nodded before the link went dead.

"Curiouser and curiouser..." Col. DeVries said with a hint of mirth in her voice.

Nathan grunted but didn't argue the point as he disappeared into his ready room to await... himself...