Time Is Lying – Q’s Final Warning – Star Trek Fanfiction (Red Directive #31)
I looked up at the main display in Ops, then scanned the senior staff. No one was speaking amongst themselves or doing anything on their PADDs.
They all had the same expression on their faces. Victory… and defeat.
We were so close to finding a solution to head home and leave the colonists here in safety. But in reality, we were just as far away as before.
Trying to prevent a sentient being the size of a frontier orbital station from doing what it wants seemed like a very daunting task.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, everyone. We’ve solved the largest piece of this puzzle. We’re safe—for now—as long as we don’t leave. The real question is… where do we work on a solution to get us out of here safely without the station knowing?”
Commander T’Varen brought her hands to her chin, deep in thought. “The Captain is correct. We cannot take any chances the station will detect our intentions and attempt to prevent us from carrying out our mission.”
Ensign Jaxa looked just as confused as always. “Is that even going to be possible if the station already knows what our intentions are—even if it can’t hear us?”
She wasn’t wrong. Solid question.
“Ideas, anyone?”
I looked around. Everyone seemed lost in thought—except Commander Pelia. She had a smirk on her face, and when she noticed I was looking her way, she winked at me.
“Captain, I have an idea.”
“Yes, Commander Pelia?”
“It wouldn’t be much of a secret if I told you now, would it?”
She placed her hands on her hips, tapping her fingers.
“Alright, Commander. What shall we do?”
“Everyone meet outside my quarters at oh nine hundred hours tomorrow.”
I wasn’t sure what she had planned, but we didn’t have any other ideas.
“You heard the commander. Crew dismissed.”
Everyone stood for a moment with confused expressions. Nothing was said. Then the crew finally dispersed and headed for the turbolifts.
Hoping Commander Pelia could keep things to herself, I grabbed her arm to stop her before she reached the stairs.
“Yes, Captain?”
“I am willing to listen to whatever plan you’re concocting. I just need to ask you something before you leave.”
“Ask away, Captain.”
I looked past her toward the turbolifts, waiting until everyone had cleared the area. There was no way to stop her from noticing.
“What’s the secret, Captain?”
Finally, I saw the turbolift doors close and turned back to face her.
“No secret, Commander. I just needed to clarify something.”
“Yes?”
She lifted an eyebrow in curiosity, listening intently.
“I noticed everyone accomplished a lot while I was gone for lunch.”
She chuckled. “Well, of course, Captain. That was one of the longest lunches you’ve ever had in the short time frame I’ve been on your crew. We were beginning to think Aura had taken you hostage.”
Impossible.
Or was it?
The station was sentient. It could manipulate time. What if it did that for Aura and me—so I wouldn’t be around when the senior staff was so close to finding the Elionvorel?
Commander Pelia shook me lightly. “Earth to Captain—are you alright? You seem to get lost in thought a lot recently.”
“Yes. Apologies, Commander. I was contemplating my current predicament.”
“Which is?”
“I’m not sure yet. Thank you for your time, Commander. I’ll see you at oh nine hundred hours outside your quarters.”
Pelia shook her head, turned, and lightly flicked her hands at me.
I just smiled and followed her up the stairs to the turbolifts.
I thought it would be smarter to ride with her… in case they decided to act up again.
The doors opened automatically as we approached, and we stepped inside together. Pelia didn’t say anything. The turbolift began moving—toward the habitat ring, if I had to guess.
Thankfully, the mess hall and crew quarters were all in the same section.
I had to make a quick stop before heading to my quarters.
We stayed silent throughout the short ride.
As we departed, I made sure to walk slowly—deliberately—so Pelia wouldn’t notice me doubling back toward the mess hall.
She must have been lost in her own thoughts, because she didn’t notice.
Once I saw her turn into the corridor toward the crew quarters, I quickened my pace and headed back to the mess hall.
Aura was still standing at the fresh prep station. Her eyes were already locked on me.
I practically ran up to her.
“Captain, you are doing very well today ensuring your body receives the proper nutrients.”
“Yes, Aura. However, I’m actually going to eat dinner in my quarters tonight. I just needed to clarify something with you.”
“Yes, Captain?”
“When we were talking earlier about the human cognitive anchor… how long did we talk for?”
She stood still for a moment. Then:
“Referencing our prior interaction, my internal chronometer indicates we were engaged in conversation for one hour, one minute, and twenty-two seconds.”
“That’s impossible.”
“How so? My positronic brain records all interactions with precise temporal accuracy.”
I grabbed both her arms like I was speaking to a human.
“Aura, we were talking for almost six hours. The entire senior staff was able to locate the Elionvorel—I was gone for so long.”
She paused again.
“I must run diagnostics on my systems. My internal chronometer is reading the same interval.”
She turned and began to walk away. I stopped her before she could get far.
“It happened to both of us, Aura. We need to discuss this further—with the senior staff. We’re meeting outside Commander Pelia’s quarters at one nine hundred hours tomorrow. I want you there. Bring the doctor.”
She nodded in acknowledgment and exited the mess hall.
I sighed and followed.
I wasn’t sure what Pelia had planned, but I hoped it was something good. This station clearly didn’t want us to know what was really happening.
Or was it just me?
Only Aura and I were affected.
I tried to push that thought aside and headed toward my quarters.
The short walk felt like an entire journey.
When I reached the door, I hesitated—wondering if it was already tomorrow, and that “short walk” hadn’t been five minutes at all.
This time, I didn’t assume the door would open automatically. I entered my command code into the access panel.
It hissed open.
Good.
I preferred that.
Automatic access always felt… unnatural.
“Computer, time.”
“It is approximately eighteen hundred hours.”
I let out a breath.
Still the same day.
And early enough for dinner.
I walked to the replicator, unsure what I even wanted.
“Surprise me with something from my personnel file.”
The replicator materialized a filet mignon—medium rare—with a baked potato and green beans.
Not something I ate often.
But still a favorite.
Almost… intentional.
But why would it give me a celebratory meal?
Strange, considering the station was now ignoring me instead of performing its usual nonstandard routines.
At this point, I felt like it was playing mind games.
Oddly enough, I was starving—even though it felt like I had only been gone half the day.
My mind couldn’t tell the difference in elapsed time.
But my body could.
What a strange feeling.
To keep from overthinking it, I reviewed my PADD while I ate.
Hoping to find even the smallest idea that would allow us to leave EOS Prospera safely—and ensure the colonists would be protected after our departure.
Anything useful would have to remain in memory until we found a way to conceal our plans from the station.
I kept repeating to myself "Have faith in your Chief Engineer."
Dinner didn’t take long.
As I placed the dishes back into the replicator for recycling, I felt a small sense of pride.
Three meals in one day.
That was new.
I wasn’t ready to sleep yet.
So I sat in the lounge chair and continued reviewing my PADD.
Not much time passed before a familiar feeling overcame me again.
That same calm, controlled sensation.
The one that came whenever the anomaly overtook systems—just for me.
I was reading…
But not processing.
Waiting.
Nothing happened.
But the feeling remained.
I set the PADD down and leaned back, letting it wash over me.
It felt wrong.
Completely wrong.
And yet…
Right.
After what felt like far too long, I jolted upright.
“Computer—confirm current time.”
A pause.
My heart skipped.
“Current time: twenty-two hundred hours.”
I exhaled.
Only four hours had passed.
The constant fear of jumping forward in time without knowing…
I did not welcome it.
“Good evening, Captain.”
My eyes widened. My jaw tightened.
“Oh, don’t look so offended.”
The voice did not come from the computer.
It came from everywhere.
I didn’t turn.
I didn’t need to.
“You always did have such a rigid relationship with time,” said Q, stepping casually into view. “Hours, minutes, schedules… it’s all very… linear.”
I exhaled slowly.
“It’s been you, hasn’t it? You’ve been interfering with the station. Just like you appeared before the anomaly—and then made it disappear. Why am I the only one who remembers?”
Q smiled—pleased.
“Interfering?” he echoed. “Such a limited way of describing what’s happening to you.”
My posture straightened.
“Six hours passed. Aura recorded one. The station is altering temporal perception.”
Q tilted his head.
“Is it? Or are you finally beginning to understand that time has never behaved the way you assumed?”
I watched him carefully. Waiting.
“This isn’t a lesson. There are nearly a thousand lives on this station.”
“And yet,” Q replied, “you’re the only one who noticed.”
Silence stretched.
“You’re being prepared,” Q continued, circling slowly. “Not by the station… though it does have its own ambitions.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Prepared for what.”
He stopped in front of me.
“For what comes next.”
The room felt smaller.
“You’ve already stepped outside linear time. Six hours, one hour… what difference does it make when you’re no longer anchored to either?”
I felt it then.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Displacement.
“The Cairo has to leave,” I said.
Q smiled.
“Now you’re catching up.”
“I’m not abandoning this mission.”
“Of course you’re not,” Q said. “You’re evolving beyond it.”
“No.”
“You can’t become what you’re meant to become while clinging to a ship… a crew… and a very charming—but temporary—sense of responsibility.”
“It’s not temporary.”
“Everything is,” Q said softly. “Except what you’re about to become.”
The station’s hum deepened.
The room flickered.
Not power.
A layer slipping.
Q glanced upward.
“Oh… this should be fun.”
“What did you do?”
“Me?” he smiled. “Captain… I didn’t build this place.”
The realization hit instantly.
The station.
Learning.
Adapting.
Preparing.
“You have one more step,” Q said. “One final… perspective shift.”
“And if I refuse?”
“You won’t.”
A pause.
“Because you already have.”
The lights dimmed—
I heard his fingers snap.
And he was gone.
Just like that.
The silence returned.
But it wasn’t empty.
The station was still there.
Watching.
Waiting.
“Oh… I think you already know.”
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