Operational Without Cause – A Station That Never Slept – Star Trek Fanfiction (Red Directive #18)

I stood at the computer monitor in the briefing room as everyone left, trying to make it look like I was deep in thought studying the colony. In reality, I just didn’t want to be bothered with a million questions. Because I myself had a million questions.

Everyone left swiftly, but silently.

When I thought I was in the clear, I turned around and was nose to nose with Aura. Completely stunned, I just slowly backed up. Her android expression didn’t change one bit—just a few blinks to make her seem almost human.

“Captain, the beverage you left on the briefing table has entered an active state of microbial fermentation. Its nutritional value has decreased by approximately 73%.”

She pointed to the smoothie I didn’t bother drinking during our briefing. How can an android make you feel bad?

“We had more important matters to attend to, Aura. That’s why we were just in a briefing.”

I walked over and grabbed it from the table. Not only had the nutritional value decreased, but its appeal had as well.

Straight to the replicator.

I turned around to leave the briefing room and, of course, she was still there, staring at me with her yellow eyes.

“Of the 47-minute briefing, 24 minutes and 32 seconds were available for consumption. This exceeds average human intake requirements for a beverage of that volume.”

I started to feel as if she was the captain, because her assertiveness made me never want to disobey her again. “Like I said, there were more important matters occupying my mind.”

She grabbed the smoothie tumbler from me as I tried walking out the briefing room door, and I didn’t really care. We would both take it to the same place regardless, and after all, she is the one in charge of the mess hall. She walked next to me, keeping up at the exact same pace.

“Allowing viable organic matter to degrade outside of controlled recycling systems is an inefficient use of station resources.”

She’s right. I thought we had an abundance of supplies though. Not that it makes it right.

I stopped and looked at her, not sure if she would understand the emotion in my plea, but I tried anyway. She stopped with me, and I put my hand on her shoulder, which she turned her stare to. I guess androids don’t get too much human physical interaction.

“You’re right, Aura. I won’t let it happen again.”

She looked back at me, monotone expression unchanged.

“I have already recalculated the colony’s supply projections. Incidents such as this, if repeated, would result in measurable waste accumulation.”

I smiled awkwardly, removed my hand from her shoulder, and turned toward the turbolift. She kept up my pace again.

“I promise, Aura. One-time incident.”

We reached the turbolift door and it automatically slid open. I still wasn’t used to the proximity sensors on everything—if that’s what was really going on. Unfortunately, she followed.

“The outcome was… avoidable.”

I could only imagine how much her sensors were going off now because of the heat rising in my cheeks. I knew I was blushing from embarrassment. I spoke, trying to change the subject.

“Habitat ring.”

The turbolift shifted outward as we rode together. She was still on the subject.

“If you require a replacement, I can prepare a nutritionally superior alternative in the hydroponics bay using current crop yields.”

“Aura, that won’t be necessary. I am heading to my quarters. I’ll use the replicator to get some lunch.”

“Replicators reconstitute matter at a lower biochemical fidelity than fresh synthesis. The difference is… noticeable.”

She had an answer for everything.

The turbolift stopped and the door slid open. I stepped out, hoping the door would shut behind me and she’d continue on. When I heard her android boots clang against the metal floor panels of the habitat ring, I was freshly reminded the mess hall and hydroponics bay were both located here.

I continued into the corridor as Aura walked with me, keeping my pace again. We came up to another corridor that led to crew quarters, one of them being mine patiently waiting for me, and we both stopped.

“I’ll take my chances, Aura. You can scan me at the next briefing.”

I grabbed her hand and held it for a second before letting go. She just kept staring at me with her usual yellow-eyed, blank expression. From her expression, I wasn’t sure if she understood the gesture. It was almost like she was waiting for me to give her orders—or to go with her.

“I’m heading to my quarters, Aura. Dismissed.”

“Yes, Captain.”

She turned and kept walking at a precisely timed pace toward the mess hall—or the hydroponics bay, I’m assuming.

I sighed and continued to my quarters. When I reached the door, as I was about to tap my code into the panel, the door slid open.

Had this occurred last night as well and I didn’t notice?

Will it occur for everyone who comes near my quarters?

Chills ran down my spine at the thought. I entered my quarters hastily. I quickly scanned the room and nothing seemed to be out of place.

“Computer, who has access to my quarters?”

“Only the Captain,” it immediately replied.

“I didn’t enter my access code to enter.”

“Quarters in EOS Prospera do not require access codes. Proximity sensors detect your biometric signature and grant access upon arrival.”

Even though the station didn’t look like it—with the mixture of alien architecture and Federation refit—it seemingly had some very advanced technology.

The explanation also seemed a little too perfect.

Not trying to think too much into it, I walked over to the desk in my quarters and sat down. The monitor attached to it immediately flickered on as I sat.

Proximity sensors…

I grabbed the PADD that was sitting on my desk to go over everyone’s findings of the station and start drafting a preliminary report to Starfleet.

When I picked up the PADD, it also immediately flickered on.

Now only if the station could read my mind.

I chuckled at the thought and tapped on the PADD to bring up everyone’s research. I started with everyone’s initial findings of the station.

As I scrolled through the files on my PADD, I pulled them up one by one on the desk monitor.

I had just started typing the report into the PADD when its screen flickered again. The last sentence I had entered disappeared.

Advanced technology, huh?

I fixed the error and continued on to the next crew member’s findings. Once I was finished entering everyone’s findings of EOS Prospera into the report, I moved on to the station’s viability.

I was almost done with that section of the report when the file I was working on minimized on the PADD. I was about to enlarge it when I noticed the image on the desk monitor had changed.

The disappearing anomaly.

Can the station really read my mind?

It really was the only thing I had been thinking about since we encountered it.

How else would EOS Prospera know about this specific anomaly?

Annoyed with the constant distractions and interruptions, I smacked the side of the monitor and it flickered back to the crew’s research data I was inputting into my preliminary report to Starfleet.

When I looked down at my PADD, the file that had just minimized had already enlarged to normal size again. Thankful for one less thing to troubleshoot, I continued with my report.

I finally finished the station’s viability portion of the report, and I started reporting the unknown variables everyone was finding on the station.

I was barely into the second unknown variable when the PADD completely powered down on me. I looked up at the monitor and noticed it had powered down as well. I was about to throw my PADD across my living quarters in anger when I noticed, out of my peripheral, the desk monitor flickering back on.

The image that finally appeared was too small to make out at first, but it slowly grew, rotated, evolved.

The anomaly again.

I felt the PADD in my hand get warmer and I looked down at it.

YOU ARE NOT WHERE YOU SHOULD BE

Startled and angry, I chucked my PADD across my living area and it slammed into the sleeping alcove wall.

“Intruder alert! Intruder alert!” the computer beamed over the speakers. “Hostile threat detected!”

“Computer, false alarm. Authorization: Captain Kelly, omega-zero-nine-alpha-one-two.”

The alarm shut off and I prayed no one else in the vicinity noticed.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to cool off. Nothing made sense here.

I kept taking deep breaths and walked over to the sleeping alcove to grab my PADD.

Undamaged, thankfully.

Starting to calm down, I walked back over to my desk to sit down. The anomaly had disappeared again, and everyone’s research was back on the screen.

“Computer, lower the temperature in the room to twenty-one point one degrees Celsius.”

“Acknowledged.”

The air in my quarters immediately started to cool down, helping my mind relax a little. I sat down in my chair and leaned back slightly, stretching to release some of the tension.

These occurrences were starting to get under my skin. Proximity sensors can only explain so much.

I returned to my PADD and continued on with the report. It took a while to enter in all the unknown variables that had occurred so far on the station. Half tempted to include the disappearing anomaly data, I decided against it. The last thing I needed was another interruption related to that. This report had already taken far longer than expected.

I started adding in the projections of the work on the colony. I barely entered the second projection when, all of a sudden, the projections began shifting on my PADD—values recalculating on their own.

I threw it down on the desk in anger again.

What the hell was going on in this station?

I looked at the desk monitor and numbers on the screen started phasing in and out. Looking back down at my PADD was worse. My report was now pulled up, and variables I had entered were being rewritten by themselves.

Was I losing my mind?

With that thought, both screens went blank.

Only slightly surprised, I leaned over my desk to get a closer look at the PADD. A few moments passed and nothing happened. I tried to power it back on. Nothing.

I ran my hands through my hair and rubbed my head in frustration. There was no way I was losing my mind—I wasn’t the only one who had reported strange occurrences. But no one had reported anything like this.

I leaned back in my chair again, sighed, and stared at the ceiling.

I felt like I had been staring at it for an eternity.

Then I saw it.

The soft glow of a computer display reflecting against the ceiling.

Wary to look down, I did anyway.

The anomaly.

The PADD was still powered down.

No message.

Just the anomaly.

But why?

At this point, I could no longer ignore it.

I finally looked directly at the monitor to observe. I was mesmerized by its appearance now—almost drawn to it like a magnet. I could almost feel its energy within me. Suddenly, all the tension and anger drained from my body, replaced by a true sense of calm. I had never felt anything like it before in my life.

I AM NOT WHERE I SHOULD BE