Out of Place – This Wasn’t Meant for Us – Star Trek Fanfiction (Red Directive #16)

The following morning didn’t feel like morning. 

Could it have been because I barely got any sleep as the wheels in my brain refused to stop turning the entire night? Or was it just because I awoke to the same steady, rhythmic hum of EOS Prospera’s systems, as if nothing was out of place.

But there was.

I could tell everyone could feel it.

I had a hard time getting out of bed. That’s what I get for not giving everyone an exact briefing time. Everyone had a long journey, a hard first day of work on EOS Prospera, and desperately needed the rest, so I wanted to give it to them.

I had also hoped I would get some rest too.

Of course, I wasn’t expecting the end of the night to be a fractured message from Starfleet after our second transmission to them.

I yawned and sat up in bed, slamming my forehead on the ceiling of the sleeping alcove.

EOS Prospera’s quarters didn’t have normal beds like I was used to. The sleeping alcoves were built into the alien infrastructure, and the Federation refit had attempted to make them more comfortable.

Attempted.

I rubbed my head where I smacked it. Only slightly painful.

Maybe I’ll just sleep on the Cairo until this is over.

No… that wouldn’t be good for morale. I’d also like to know exactly what the full story is behind EOS Prospera.

I scanned my quarters to get a better feel for them than I had last night. The lighting already felt like it was at full intensity. Strange for a standard morning setting.

“Computer, time.”

“It is currently zero eight hundred hours.”

Well, thankfully it wasn’t that late in the morning.

I grabbed my comm badge off the small table next to my sleeping alcove and stood up to explore the rest of my quarters.

As I looked around, the mixture of alien architecture and Federation refit gave it a rustic feel, but it was also pristine at the same time.

As if no one had ever used these quarters before. It made me wonder if the few humanoids who worked on the refit had noticed all the station’s discrepancies.

The living area was modest and only contained a chair and a small table. It did have a workstation with a personal console built into it that faced a small viewport where I could see the Cairo off in the distance.

I ran my finger along my work desk. Not a single scratch or dent. I frowned and walked to investigate the wall panels for storage. As soon as I approached the one near my desk, it immediately slid open.

More proximity sensors? Seems excessive, even for a Federation refit of an alien station in an unexplored quadrant.

I shrugged the thought off and made my way back to the sanitation unit of my quarters.

I stepped inside and the lights immediately came on at a soft glow. A few storage panels containing replicated uniforms extended from the wall suddenly, and I jumped slightly.

I reached into the storage panel and pulled out a captain’s uniform that was my exact size. I looked it over a few times and noticed it was different. Starfleet… but different.

I hung it on a hook in the sanitation unit, quickly undressed, and stepped into the sonic shower. I made it quick, not wanting to let my thoughts get the best of me like they tended to do when I was standing still for too long.

I dressed quickly as well, interested to see how this new captain’s uniform looked.

I stared at myself in the mirror. It was a deep burgundy across the chest and shoulders, the rest black with a subtle sheen. Oddly, the material was much more comfortable than it looked. It was also short-sleeved. Something I could get used to.

I clipped on my pips and communicator badge when I was done studying my new uniform and made my way over to the replicator alcove. It activated the moment I stepped up to it.

“Tea. Blueberry. Hot.”

An oddly shaped glass of tea materialized in the alcove. When it activated as I stepped up to it, I knew I wouldn’t need to command it for it to function.

I grabbed the glass and took a couple of sips. Somehow the recipe was just right. Leave it to Starfleet to be consistent, I guess.

I took a few more sips and decided I would skip breakfast and make my way down to Ops. The tea was coming with me.

I stepped out of my quarters into the habitat ring’s curved corridor, the low hum of civilian life already in motion. By the time I reached the command access junction, the noise had faded—replaced by the quieter, more controlled rhythm of station operations.

The turbolift doors opened without delay.

“Ops.”

The ride inward was brief.

It felt much longer than it had the night before.

I made my way back to Ops earlier than necessary, the corridors already active with low movement as crew and colonists settled into their temporary routines. A few acknowledged me as I passed. Others seemed too distracted by their surroundings to notice much of anything at all.

I couldn’t blame them.

I stepped into Ops and took in the command center again from the upper level, half expecting something to be different from the night before.

It wasn’t.

That didn’t make it better.

Ops was a little quieter than I expected.

I looked down and noticed Commander T’Varen was already at the central console, her attention fixed on the display as her hands moved with deliberate precision across the controls. She didn’t look up right away.

Of course she didn’t.

I started to walk down the steps to the lower level of Ops. “Commander… I assume you didn’t wait until morning to run diagnostics on that transmission.”

“No, Captain.”

There was the slightest pause.

“I determined it would be… inefficient to delay.”

I allowed myself the faintest hint of a smile. “And?”

She turned just enough to acknowledge me, though her focus remained mostly on the console.

“The distortion was not the result of signal degradation,” she said. “It was caused by overlapping subspace echoes originating from within the station’s relay network.”

That got my attention.

“Meaning?”

“The message itself was intact,” she continued. “However, it was being partially re-transmitted through an internal system at a fractional delay, creating the appearance of interference.”

Internal.

Of course.

“And the original transmission?” I asked.

T’Varen finally looked up fully.

“Confirmed as authentic, Captain.”

A beat.

“Starfleet Command has acknowledged our arrival and initial report. There is no indication of signal compromise on their end.”

I let out a slow breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

So Starfleet did hear us.

That didn’t explain the rest of it.

“Play it back,” I said.

T’Varen tapped the console.

This time, the message came through clean.

“Starfleet Command to USS Cairo. Your transmission has been received and verified. Continue current mission parameters. Full support is authorized. Further directives will follow.”

No distortion.

No interruption.

Just Starfleet.

I studied the display for a moment longer, then glanced back at T’Varen. “And the internal relay?”

“I have isolated the pathway,” she replied. “It is not part of standard Federation configuration.”

Of course it wasn’t.

I nodded once. “We’ll come back to that.”

I straightened slightly. “Open a channel. Priority one.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The console shifted as the channel initialized.

“Starfleet Command, this is Captain Kelly of the USS Cairo,” I began. “We have successfully established operations on EOS Prospera. Your confirmation has been received.”

I exchanged a brief glance with T’Varen before continuing.

“Requesting all available records regarding this station’s origin. Specifically, any data on the alien species responsible for its initial construction.”

A slight pause.

“And any logs or documentation related to the subsequent Federation refit. We are particularly interested in records referencing non-standard personnel—including synthetic or android labor.”

T’Varen’s eyes flicked briefly toward me at that.

Good. She was thinking the same thing.

I continued.

“There are inconsistencies within the station’s systems and historical data that do not align with current records. Any additional information you can provide may be critical to our ongoing operations.”

I nodded once toward the console.

“Awaiting your response. Cairo out.”

The channel closed.

Silence settled over Ops again, though it felt… different this time.

We had answers.

Just not enough of them.

I looked back at T’Varen. “Your assessment, Commander.”

She didn’t hesitate.

“If the relay interference originated internally,” she said, “it is reasonable to conclude the station is either attempting to process external communications…”

A slight pause.

“…or reinterpret them.”

I held her gaze.

“That’s not particularly reassuring.”

“No, Captain,” she replied calmly. “It is not.”

Knowing it would take Starfleet some time to gather my requested information, I felt we should take advantage of it to gather the rest of the senior staff so they could begin researching anything they could.

“Computer, contact senior staff for a briefing at ten hundred hours.”

“Acknowledged.”

Commander T’Varen raised an eyebrow in question. I didn’t want to rush anyone, and I was hoping to speak with her alone about the disappearing anomaly. So, I set the briefing later than it likely needed to be.

“Well, Commander. We should make good use of this time and review those scans of the disappearing anomaly we encountered.”

“Your tactics are not very subtle, Captain.”

I let out an awkward laugh. “What do you mean, Commander?”

She blinked and looked back down at the console. Suddenly, images of the anomaly appeared on the main viewscreen, surrounded by graphs and equations.

I walked closer to study the images, as did the Commander, though I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking at.

“What have you concluded so far, Commander?”

“Still nothing logical.”

Dead end.

“When the rest of the senior staff arrive, we’ll have Lieutenant Darak take a look at these scans.”

“I believe it would be more logical to focus on the colony right now, Captain. The anomaly is no longer a threat. However, there is no certainty this station will be able to sustain this colony long-term. That is our primary mission.”

Leave it to the Vulcan to break a mood.

“Agreed, Commander.”

I tried to act like it didn’t bother me and walked over to the command console. It activated as I approached and immediately displayed the same scans that had just been on the main viewscreen.

Odd, but convenient.

I looked up to see if Commander T’Varen was watching me.

She was intently focused on her own console, configuring some kind of equations.

I looked back down at the images of the anomaly.

They were identical to what we had just reviewed—same distortion patterns, same shifting edges that refused to stabilize into anything measurable.

As tempting as it was to keep exploring the scans myself, Commander T’Varen was right. The colony needed to come first.

I tapped a couple of controls on the console to clear the anomaly images and bring up the schematics of EOS Prospera.

For a split second, the anomaly didn’t clear.

It hesitated.

Not frozen.

Waiting.

Then—

The screen went blank.

Thankfully, my gasp was quiet enough that the Commander didn’t hear it.

I tapped the console a few more times, but nothing happened.

Everything had been working so well—why now?

Just as I was about to move to another console to run diagnostics, the screen slowly flickered back on.

The distortion wasn’t random.

It was familiar.

The same phasing variance. The same unstable rhythm we had recorded in the anomaly.

But this time… it felt focused.

Not broadcast.

Directed.

I stared at it, waiting for it to fully resolve.

My stomach sank as the distortion finally faded, revealing a single message emerging from the darkness of the blank screen.

YOU ARE NOT WHERE YOU SHOULD BE