The Pattern That Wasn’t – Missing Pieces of the Past – Star Trek Fanfiction (Red Directive #19)
My mind was telling me it wasn’t right, but my soul was telling me something else.
Not fear.
Not urgency.
Something calm, fitting, and unexplained.
I exhaled slowly and stood up from the chair at my desk. The anomaly still lingered on the screen. At this point, I wasn't even bothered it was still there.
“Computer, time.”
“Sixteen hundred hours.”
Impossible.
How was I staring at the anomaly for that long?
With no interruptions?
Not even a notification that Starfleet had responded with our requested data on EOS Prospera.
I ran back to the sanitation unit in my quarters to make sure I didn’t look like a complete mess. Because I sure felt like one.
I started wiping the smudged makeup from my face when a soft chirp broke through the quiet.
“Drim to Captain.”
I put down my Starfleet-issued washcloth and tapped my combadge.
“Go ahead.”
There was a brief pause—unusual for him.
“Captain… we’ve received the Starfleet transmission.”
I let out a sigh of relief, hoping he didn’t hear it.
“Took them long enough.”
A faint exhale with a chuckle came through—good to know I could still be amusing at a time like this.
“Yes, well… it didn’t seem to want to be received.”
That got my attention.
“Explain.”
“The original signal arrived on time,” Drim said. “Clear. Intact. No degradation whatsoever.”
A beat.
“Then it… echoed.”
I frowned. “Echoed?”
“Not in the conventional sense,” he continued. “The signal was being re-transmitted through the station’s own relay network—fractionally delayed, just enough to overlap with the original.”
I felt my focus sharpen. The same thing Commander T’Varen had identified.
“Like interference.”
“Like imitation,” Drim corrected.
That wasn’t better.
“It wasn’t random, Captain. The timing was… precise. Almost refined.”
“Refined how?”
“It adjusted,” he said. “Each cycle reduced the distortion. As if the system was learning how to reproduce the signal more efficiently.”
I finished wiping the smudged makeup from my face and rushed out of my quarters. The door slid open automatically as I approached. I decided to continue the conversation on the move.
Literally.
As I stepped out into the habitat ring corridor much faster than intended, I nearly knocked over an entire family of colonists. I apologized quickly—more than once—and kept moving toward the command access junction.
Out of breath, I stopped just before the turbolift and tapped my comm badge.
It couldn’t wait.
“Why would the station do that?”
Drim must have noticed. “Are you alright, Captain?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Explain.”
I moved forward and the turbolift doors opened immediately. I stepped inside. The doors closed faster than normal, and before I could issue a command, it began moving.
The turbolift was already in motion.
“I don’t believe it was trying to block the transmission,” Drim said carefully.
“Then what?”
A faint edge crept into his voice now—something I hadn’t heard before.
“I think it was trying to understand it.”
Silence settled between us as I tried to process that.
“I’ve isolated the original data stream,” he added quickly.
“Well done.”
Not a second later, the turbolift doors slid open.
Ops.
Of course.
“Captain…” Drim said, a little startled as he watched me rush down from the upper level. Commander T’Varen was already at the command console, watching me just as closely.
“Yes, Captain. Perfect timing.”
I knew Vulcans weren’t sarcastic, but that definitely felt like a jab.
“Drim, data stream on screen.”
“Yes, sir.”
A hesitation.
Subtle.
He entered a sequence on his console and the report appeared on the main display. His attention dropped immediately back to his station—focused, intent. Probably not something I wanted to interrupt.
The display shifted, replacing equations with a secure Starfleet data stream. Lines of encoded text resolved into a structured report, the header stabilizing.
STARFLEET SCIENCE COMMAND — ANALYSIS RECEIVED
I stepped closer, folding my hands behind my back as I began reviewing.
Initial findings confirmed what we already suspected.
The station wasn’t Federation.
Not Bajoran.
Not Cardassian.
Older.
Much older.
I narrowed my focus, scrolling further.
There it was.
A reference—buried in fragmented archival records. Incomplete. Cross-referenced across multiple sectors, but never fully cataloged.
A species designation.
Unverified.
The file stuttered slightly before resolving.
…VOREL DESIGN ARCHITECTURE IDENTIFIED
I paused.
“Commander,” I said, my voice steady. “Are you seeing this classification?”
A beat.
Then—
“Yes, Captain.”
Immediate.
Too immediate.
I glanced at her.
Commander T’Varen stood motionless at her station, eyes fixed on her console.
“Preliminary correlation suggests a technologically advanced civilization with no recorded biological remains,” she said. “Starfleet archives contain only partial references. Most data appears to have been… overwritten.”
Overwritten.
I looked back at the screen.
“That’s not possible,” I said quietly.
“On the contrary, Captain,” she replied. “It is merely improbable.”
Right.
Of course it was.
I continued scrolling.
There should have been more.
For something this advanced—this intact—there should have been history.
Instead—
Gaps.
Entire sections missing.
Not redacted.
Absent.
Like they had never existed.
I moved back to the console and accessed the full transmission log.
The system hesitated.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then complied.
“Computer,” I said, sharper now. “Confirm full data receipt from Starfleet Science Command.”
A brief pause.
Then—
“Confirmed.”
I stared at the display.
It didn’t feel confirmed.
Behind me, the station hummed steadily.
Unchanging.
Unbothered.
Like it was listening.
I straightened, pushing the thought aside.
“Commander, begin cross-referencing all available data with our own scans. I want to know exactly what we’re looking at.”
“Yes, Captain.”
I nodded once, my gaze drifting—just for a moment—back to where the anomaly had been.
It was gone.
Of course it was.
Still…
I couldn’t shake the feeling that it hadn’t left.
I forced the thought aside and returned to the report.
“Preliminary analysis confirms the station predates all known Federation, Bajoran, and Cardassian records,” I said quietly. “Estimated origin… indeterminate.”
I scrolled.
“Architectural signatures show partial alignment with a previously unverified classification.”
A brief pause.
Then the designation resolved.
ELIONVOREL
Commander T’Varen spoke before I could.
“Starfleet archives contain fewer than ten references to this species, Captain. All entries are fragmented.”
Of course they were.
“No confirmed biological records,” I said. “No homeworld. No verified sightings.”
“Only their technology,” she added.
I nodded slightly.
“That’s all we have here as well.”
I continued.
“Federation survey logs confirm the station was recovered in a partially active state,” I read. “Initial engineering teams reported… non-standard system behavior.”
I stopped.
That phrasing again.
“Define non-standard.”
“Systems responding without direct input,” T’Varen said. “Command pathways appearing to anticipate user intent.”
Exactly what we were seeing.
I kept reading.
“Additional notes indicate multiple instances of autonomous system reconfiguration during early Federation survey operations.”
I scrolled again.
Looking for something—anything—more concrete.
There should have been names.
Teams.
Logs.
Instead—
“Where are the personnel records?”
No answer.
I turned.
Commander T’Varen adjusted her console.
“Unavailable.”
I frowned.
“Unavailable?”
“Yes, Captain. The report references a total of twelve Starfleet personnel assigned during initial survey operations. A combination of human specialists and synthetic support units.”
Twelve.
“Continue.”
“There are no consolidated service records associated with the mission,” she said. “Each individual is listed independently following reassignment.”
That tracked.
It always did.
“Then where are the mission logs?”
“They are present,” she said. “However, they are… incomplete.”
“Incomplete how?”
“Sections of the original survey data lack continuity. No cause for data loss is noted.”
Of course not.
“Anything in their medicals?”
“Routine. All personnel were cleared. No shared abnormalities identified.”
Cleared.
All of them.
“Follow-ups?”
“Individual cases were documented over time. Symptoms vary. No common diagnosis.”
“What kind of symptoms?”
“Primarily neurological. Memory inconsistencies. Diminished affect. Eventual systemic failure.”
Systemic failure? Chills ran down my spine.
“Timeline?”
“Onset varies. Progression occurs between six to eighteen months following the mission.”
One by one.
Different places.
Different times.
“Twelve officers,” I said quietly. “Cleared. Reassigned. Scattered.”
“Cause?”
“Unknown.”
Of course it was.
“Have there been any other recorded cases like this?”
“Negative. No broader pattern identified.”
“So it’s just them.”
“Yes, Captain.”
That settled something.
And unsettled everything else.
“There should be a connection,” I said. “Same mission. Same environment.”
“There is no documented causal factor,” she replied.
“That’s not possible.”
I exhaled slowly.
“Is there a complete mission record?”
“Partial.”
I stared at the display.
“That was a twelve-person survey team,” I said. “Human and synthetic support. That should be a full operation log.”
“The available data does not reflect full team activity,” she said. “Individual contributions are recorded. Overall mission cohesion is minimal.”
Minimal.
That wasn’t how Starfleet logged operations.
“That’s not standard.”
“No, Captain.”
I didn’t like that.
I didn’t like any of this.
“Any reference to synthetic support units?”
“Indirect. ‘Assisted integration systems.’ No further classification.”
Integration.
Not labor.
I hesitated.
“Commander… the synthetic units. Where are their records?”
A pause.
Longer this time.
“They are not included in the personnel summaries.”
I straightened.
“Not included?”
“No, Captain.”
“That’s not possible. They were part of the survey team.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Search maintenance logs. Decommission reports. Transfer orders. Anything.”
“Searching.”
The hum deepened.
“Negative.”
I didn’t move.
“No recovery logs. No reassignment records. No indication of system failure.”
Nothing.
They didn’t come back.
They didn’t break.
They just…
weren’t there.
My list of questions was growing faster than I could ever expect answers.
I leaned closer to the display.
A closing note.
Brief.
Dismissive.
NO ACTIVE ELIONVOREL TECHNOLOGY DETECTED DURING INITIAL SURVEY
I read it again.
Slowly.
How was that possible?
Federation technology didn’t behave like this station did. They had documented the same anomalies we were experiencing. How could they not have detected it?
The EMH had already identified and activated a mobile emitter—with Commander Pelia’s help.
Commander T’Varen and I exchanged a look.
“Either the refit was one of Starfleet’s rushed assignments and we’re the ones left holding it together… or there’s something we’re missing.”
“I believe it is the latter, Captain.”
“Agreed,” I said quietly. “But what is it?”
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