Why Only the Captain? – What Does the Station Know? – Star Trek Fanfiction (Red Directive #32)

There wasn’t much sleep the night before for someone with seven hundred lives in their hands—and an omnipotent being interfering somehow with a sentient station on the verge of destroying all of them.

The night had felt endless. I don’t think I stopped tossing and turning once.

I couldn’t stop thinking about my conversation with Q in my quarters the night before—and what it all really meant.

Mostly, I couldn’t stop thinking about how we were going to leave this station safely and ensure the colonists’ survival after our departure.

I was chosen by Starfleet to do this mission for a reason. I thought I knew what that reason was, but ever since we arrived at EOS Prospera, I had lost sight of it.

I lay in my bed alcove with my eyes closed, debating whether or not to get up.

The alarm I had the computer set for one seven hundred hours hadn’t gone off yet, so I assumed it was still early.

Then it dawned on me that this could be another one of the station’s games—and maybe it had turned my alarm off. Or worse… I had jumped forward in time again, straight through everything.

With that thought, I jolted awake and slammed my forehead into the ceiling of the bed alcove again.

One eye closed, rubbing the sore spot from hitting it one too many times, I looked up and cursed Denty under my breath.

“Computer, time.”

There was a pause.

My heart skipped a beat.

“The time is approximately one six hundred hours.”

The tension finally released. No time jumps. Just an hour early.

“Computer, lights—one hundred percent.”

Another pause.

I rolled my eyes, already preparing to get ready in the dark.

Then, finally—after what felt like far too long for a standard computer response—the lights came on. Not full intensity like I requested, but enough.

I didn’t have the energy to argue with it.

I swung my legs over the edge of the alcove and sat there for a moment, rubbing my eyes longer than usual. This morning was going to take extra effort if I wanted to hide how exhausted I felt from the crew.

The atmosphere among the senior staff had shifted. Subtle, but there.

Commander T’Varen and Lieutenant Darak had clearly discussed the anomaly occurrences—the ones that seemed to involve only me with the rest of the crew.

It didn’t take a Vulcan to see what that did to their confidence in my command.

Logical conclusion.

Unfortunate one.

I made my way into the sanitation unit, deciding to start there since it was going to take longer than usual.

I had just finished when the computer chimed behind me.

“Captain, it is one seven hundred hours.”

Still two hours before we were scheduled to meet outside Commander Pelia’s quarters.

Plenty of time.

Enough for something I hadn’t been doing properly.

I stepped out of the sanitation unit, finishing the last adjustments to my uniform as I moved toward the replicator alcove, clipping my fourth pip into place.

“Computer—” I paused, considering it. “Egg white omelette, corn and green peppers. Hashbrowns. Dry wheat toast. Coffee… almond milk, four teaspoons of coconut sugar.”

Somewhat nutritional.

The meal materialized, and I carried it to the table.

It didn’t take long to finish.

Too fast.

So I stayed seated, picking up my PADD again. I sipped the rest of my coffee as I reviewed it some more.

If I could walk into that briefing with something—anything useful—it might steady things.

An hour passed. Or at least it felt like one.

Nothing.

No pattern. No leverage. Nothing we could use against a system that already knew what we were going to do.

That thought crept in again.

I didn’t like it.

“Computer, time.”

No pause this time.

“It is approximately one eight hundred thirty hours.”

Later than expected.

I stood, returning my dishes to the replicator for recycling and finishing my coffee before stepping out into the corridor.

I wanted to arrive early.

If I could get a moment alone with Commander Pelia, maybe she could shed light on the temporal irregularities. If anyone could, it would be her.

The walk took longer than expected.

The corridors felt… quieter.

Too quiet.

Only a handful of engineering crew crossed my path. No colonists. No usual movement.

Something had shifted.

Or maybe I was just noticing it now.

As I rounded the final curve toward Pelia’s quarters, any hope of a private conversation disappeared.

Commander T’Varen stood outside the door, PADD in hand.

Of course she was there.

I slowed my pace as I approached.

“Good morning, Captain,” she said without looking up.

“Good morning, Commander. You’re early. Found something important?”

“No, Captain. As a Vulcan, it is only logical to arrive early in order to prepare for all potential outcomes.”

Of course. No real reason, just to annoy me clearly.

I frowned slightly and reached toward the entry console.

“Captain,” she added, “it would be logical to wait until the full senior staff has arrived.”

I pressed the control anyway.

“I’m not standing in a corridor for thirty minutes.”

The door chimed.

“Come in, come in!” Pelia called from inside.

The doors parted, and I stepped in—glancing back just in time to confirm T’Varen was following.

Naturally.

We both stopped just inside the threshold.

And stared.

Her quarters were massive. At least four standard units combined.

Every surface was filled—antiques, artifacts, objects from dozens of cultures and eras. Nothing matched, and somehow it all worked.

I had never seen anything like it.

Pelia approached, still in civilian attire—loose pajama pants and a matching button-down top. Tiny warp cores patterned across the fabric.

Her attire fit her perfectly. 

She caught me looking.

“Starfleet uniforms are dreadfully boring, Captain. I’ve lived long enough to learn—comfort matters.”

She led us into the living area, where long couches framed a large wooden table covered in different colored layered cloths, scattered notes, figurines, and—somehow—a PADD buried in the chaos.

I took one couch.

T’Varen chose another.

As far from me as possible without making it obvious.

Subtle.

Pelia turned, already moving away.

“I’ll be back. Apparently I need to put on something more ‘official’ since you both insisted on arriving early.”

She muttered something about Vulcans on her way out. Possibly about me, too.

I couldn’t help it—I smiled slightly.

She was one of the few crew members whose presence didn’t carry tension with it.

Strange, considering her age.

You’d think someone who had lived that long would be beyond everything.

Or maybe that was exactly why she wasn’t.

The silence between T’Varen and I stretched for the full thirty minutes.

Unbroken.

Eventually, the rest of the senior staff began to arrive—one by one, filling the already crowded space.

Pelia took her time.

When she finally returned, fully in uniform, the room was packed.

I gave her a slight, controlled smile.

“Commander, I assume this is what you had in mind when you asked us to meet here.”

“It was, Captain.”

She dropped onto the couch between Aura and me, throwing her arms across the back casually and propping her feet on the antique table.

Everyone waited.

She didn’t rush.

“Welcome, everyone. Forgive the mess. It’s difficult not to collect things when you’ve lived as long as I have.”

A few officers glanced around, uncertain.

Pelia waved it off.

“My quarters are surrounded by a localized interference field. It disrupts sensors, subspace scans, most modern detection systems… honestly, I’ve lost track of what it blocks.”

T’Varen was already working on her PADD.

“That assessment is consistent with my readings. We may be sufficiently shielded from station-level monitoring within this space.”

Good.

“Thank you, Commander,” I said.

“Oh, anything for you, my dear Captain.”

She leaned back, completely at ease.

“Well? Let’s get on with it. I don’t want you all in here all day.”

Before I could say anything Aura started speaking and my heart sank. I had rethought about sharing our temporal experience with the rest of the crew and had just wanted to talk to Commander Pelia alone, but I didn’t get a chance to explain that to her and she’s…

“The captain and I encountered a temporal anomaly yesterday.”

An android…

“I have run diagnostics on my system numerous times to verify accuracy. My internal chronometer read that we only engaged in conversation for exactly one hour, one minute, and twenty-two seconds. In reality, a total of six hours passed during that time frame. I have also determined we were the only two affected by the occurrence,” she continued. 

Murmurs spread instantly.

There it was.

“Yes,” I said, steadying the room. “Aura and I confirmed the discrepancy. I was not absent for six hours yesterday on a lunch break. Without her internal chronometer, we would have had no way to verify it.”

I shot her a look.

She didn’t notice.

The EMH did.

“That’s what I was needed for?” he snapped. “To tell me about your temporal phenomenon? That’s a waste of my resources. I could live out the rest of my program for over 800 years without that knowledge and be just fine.”

He turned to leave.

I stood.

“Doctor—this affects all of us. We needed everyone to be aware of a secure environment to develop a plan to leave the station safely.”

He stopped, turned back just enough.

“I am aware now, Captain. Inform me when you have a solution. I am a physician—not a temporal theorist.”

And he was gone.

Didn’t bother me.

T’Varen, of course, was already analyzing.

“Aura’s data is accurate. No additional personnel reported anomalies.”

I scanned the room.

“Thoughts?”

Ensign Jaxa spoke first. She seemed dumb, but was rather intelligent. When I thought about it, it finally made sense why Chief Ren was attracted to her.

“If the station has the El-Aurian anchor… temporal disruption makes sense, right?”

Chief Ren leaned toward her.

“You would assume, but why only the Captain and Aura? Why just now? The station has had these cognitive anchors for quite some time.”

Commander T’Varen responded, “Valid variables. Further analysis required.”

Already typing away on her PADD.

I tightened my grip against the couch.

Lieutenant Darak spoke next.

“I have cross-referenced the Elionvorel data from yesterday with Lieutenant Aura’s internal chronometer logs. The correlation indicates the station initiated a controlled temporal displacement—removing the Captain from the timeline at the precise moment of the Elionvorel discovery.”

I turned.

“Why only me?”

Kurn answered.

“Because it does not consider the others a threat.”

Darak considered it.

T’Varen disagreed.

“Unlikely. Collective action presents greater threat potential.”

Aura spoke.

“Perhaps the station recognizes something in the Captain that we do not.”

And then—

Clear as if he were standing right behind me—

“Oh… I think you already know.”