It Was Never Meant to Be Easy – The Return Through the Wormhole – Star Trek Fanfiction (Red Directive #48)

Consciousness returned gradually. My perception was not immediately coherent.

I heard familiar voices around me discussing my current dilemma.
The EMH and Commander Darak.

My auditory senses were also taking some time to return to normal. I could not fully interpret what they were saying.

I made note of the firm padding I was currently lying on.

I listened more intently and narrowed my eyes.

Based on the hum of a biobed and the low lighting, which delayed the restoration of my perception, it was reasonable to conclude I was in Sickbay. The realization settled with quiet precision.

When my vision had fully returned, I saw the EMH and Commander Darak not too far away, discussing my condition.

I decided not to make them aware yet that I had awakened.

Now that my auditory senses had returned as well, I wanted to hear the prognosis when they believed I was not listening.

Commander Darak had his hand to his chin, listening intently as the EMH spoke. “Commander, as I’ve said before, the captain sustained a moderate concussion with secondary neural stress. The loss of consciousness was not incidental. There was measurable disruption in cortical activity, compounded by prior strain.”

Darak’s gaze shifted from abstraction to meet the EMH’s. “She will recover.”

The EMH was agitated, as always. “Eventually. However, her neural pathways are not fully stabilized. Returning to duty prematurely would risk delayed response time, impaired judgment, and potential collapse. She is not even awake yet.”

I quickly closed my eyes in case they looked over at me, so I could continue to listen to their conversation unnoticed.

Darak responded, “Define ‘premature.’”

“I would recommend a minimum of twelve hours restricted activity, continued monitoring, and—ideally—no command decisions of consequence.”

Darak’s voice raised slightly. “That is not… compatible with our current situation.”

The EMH raised his voice an octave as well. “Nor is another loss of consciousness on the bridge.”

“…Then you will monitor her there.”

The EMH scoffed. “I am a physician, Commander, not a miracle worker.”

Darak responded sternly, but with precision. “Today, you will be both.”

Commander Darak’s presence in Sickbay with me was not preferable, as it made me question who was currently in command, but the outcome would have been less favorable without him.

I heard some shuffling and footsteps drawing closer to me. Then I felt a warm, familiar hand take mine and hold it.

The moment to wake then was sufficiently appropriate. My eyes opened without urgency, my gaze fixed on the overhead lighting before shifting—fractionally—to my surroundings. Sickbay as I suspected.

Commander Darak was looking down at our hands and was still not aware my eyes were open.

I did not move at first.

“There is a discontinuity,” I said.

Darak’s eyes quickly shot up to meet mine. He held my hand tighter, and I felt his other hand move to my face. I remained still.

I should terminate this interaction, but my autonomic response was not compliant. “I was on the bridge.”

The EMH stepped into view. “And then you weren’t. You sustained a moderate concussion, Captain. Loss of consciousness, neural disruption, and—if I may add—remarkably poor timing.”

I pushed myself up on one arm. The motion stalled—briefly—before I compensated. “I am functional.”

“You are ambulatory,” the EMH corrected. “That is not the same thing. Your neural pathways are still stabilizing. I have restricted you from duty.”

“That restriction is not acceptable.”

“It is not optional.”

I stared at the EMH, but his gaze did not shift.

I heard Darak speak. “I did advise you of this.”

The EMH turned to respond to Darak. “Your statement was noted, Commander. However, my medical authority supersedes both of your commands in this matter. Under Starfleet medical protocol, I am overriding your orders.”

My gaze had already shifted, observing Darak. “You relinquished command.”

“Kurn has the bridge,” Darak replied evenly. “Alpha shift.”

A pause.

“You should be there.”

“And you should not.”

The EMH looked annoyed. “And now you agree with me?”

“At no point did I express disagreement. I simply stated it was not compatible with our current situation.” Darak was still holding my hand, and his gaze did not leave mine as he spoke. “I also knew this would be her reaction.”

I straightened despite the slight delay in my balance and removed my hand from under his. I could see mild disappointment in his eyes. “Time to Bajor?”

“Approximately six hours,” Darak said.

“Then this discussion is inefficient.”

“You are not returning to the bridge,” the EMH said flatly.

I met his gaze. “You will continue to monitor me. On the bridge.”

The EMH’s composure thinned, irritation no longer concealed.

“I will reiterate this only once more,” he said sharply. “This is a medical override. Your commands are countermanded.”

He stepped closer, voice tightening.

“If necessary, I will log this as a formal violation and report it to Starfleet Medical. I will not permit a compromised officer to assume command.”

Silence held for a moment.

I exhaled—controlled.

“…Very well.”

My gaze shifted back to Darak.

“You will assume command from Kurn.”

He did not respond. Instead, he reached for my hand once more, and I withdrew it from his grasp. “Ensure we reach the Bajoran Wormhole without incident.”

Darak looked defeated. He sighed, leaned over, and kissed my head. “Yes, captain.”

I did not respond as he retreated from my biobed and exited Sickbay.

The EMH regarded us both for a moment longer than necessary. Then he stepped up next to me with a smirk, his arms crossed.

“I have also observed a… notable degree of proximity between the two of you,” he said, almost clinically. “Given the circumstances, it may be relevant to—”

I glared at him. “That is not your concern.”

He uncrossed his arms slightly. “On the contrary, Captain, interpersonal dynamics can influence—”

I cut him off again. “That will be sufficient.”

He rolled his eyes and persisted despite instruction. “…Patient confidentiality,” he added quickly, straightening. “Any observations remain strictly within medical parameters.”

He took one last look at me, shook his head, retrieved an instrument from a nearby table, and retreated to his glass office.

I lay back down and stared at the ceiling.

Six hours to the wormhole.

Six hours to plan my escape.

If I wanted any leniency with Starfleet upon our return, I needed to be in command of the Cairo when it reached Deep Space Nine.

Darak might be in Starfleet on a technicality, but they would not be receptive to a Cardassian arriving from a Red Directive mission in command of one of their largest vessels.

I would be preserving both of us from reprimand.

I turned my gaze toward the EMH without moving to analyze his position.

He had left his glass office and was attending to the other injured crew members.

The sight prompted curiosity regarding the casualty report from the previous cycle. If one existed. It would be preferable if it did not.

I observed his movements carefully as I formulated a plan to exit Sickbay before our arrival.

I knew I would need to wait several hours to catch him off guard.

Perhaps one more conversation to reinforce the appearance of compliance. I bided my time and waited for him to make his rounds.

It did not take long and he was standing at my side again, running his medical tricorder up and down my body. “You’re healing normal as expected for a Vulcan, captain.”

I just stared at him with no expression. I did not want him to think I was prepared to dart the moment I had the chance.

Vulcans are the worst liars, so it was best not to speak.

The circular medical tricorder stopped beeping, he folded his other tricorder display up to close it, slipped it into his pocket, and frowned at me. “I know you’re not happy about my override of your orders captain, but trust me. It’s for your own good.”

I just nodded.

It was enough to satisfy him. He smiled slightly and carried on back into his glass office again.

For the next three hours, I watched him make his rounds precisely every hour. Then he sat in his glass office for the remainder of the time with his back turned to the door working on his computer.

The door was not too far from his office. I would need some kind of distraction so he would not notice my disappearance.

Two more hours went by. I was approaching a loss of discipline.

I could not determine a logical distraction that would guarantee my success.

The EMH made his rounds and went back to his glass office to work.

Timing was now of the essence.

The only idea I could come up with was disconnecting the power relay to the ensign’s biobed next to me.

I knew I would be able to reach it unnoticed. However, retreating back into my own biobed fast enough without being detected was a different problem.

I decided to wait a little longer to see if I could determine a smarter plan of escape.

I knew my window was starting to become smaller and smaller the longer I waited.

I took a deep breath and was preparing my body to shift as quiet as possible when without warning, the doors to SickBay hissed opened.

A limp Lieutenant Marcus Hale, our Gamma Shift Engineer was being carried by two other engineering crew members. He had severe burns on the side of his face.

The EMH heard the door open and quickly rose to greet them and started to help them carry Lieutenant Hale to a biobed across the room. The EMH grabbed his medical tricorder and started scanning the lieutenant. In a stern voice, he spoke, “What on earth happened to Lieutenant Hale?”

One of the male crew members that carried him in responded as he was sitting him down on the biobed, “We found him like this in a maintenance corridor. An EPS conduit had blown. We were reporting to fix it. He must have been near it when it happened.”

I watched everything unfold across the room from me and once the crewmembers had the lieutenant fully on the biobed, they stood shoulder to shoulder with their backs towards the door blocking the EMH’s view perfectly.

This was the optimal moment to proceed.

I slid out as slow and quietly as possible from underneath the blankets of my biobed. When my feet touched the floor, I ducked down below the top of the biobed to avoid detection.

I noticed my uniform shirt was hanging on a hook on the side of my biobed and my shoes were sitting on the floor next to me. I had been changed into a Starfleet issued tank top.

Not ideal, but it was acceptable.

I grabbed my uniform shirt with my shoes and quietly placed them under the blankets and moved my pillow to make it look like a body was underneath the blankets within my capabilities.

I turned to look at Lieutenant Hale’s biobed and the EMH was still busy running his tricorder over him while the two crew members watched.

They were not engaged in conversation, a quiet exit was not probable at the moment.

I monitored their actions for the appropriate moment to act.

The duration exceeded expectations. Success was becoming improbable.

I assessed possible courses of action. The margin for delay had been exhausted.

Without hesitation, I slowly crawled towards the door to leave SickBay.

Deciding not to look back as the situation presented considerable risk, I reached the door. Following a moment of consideration, I started to reach my hand for the panel.

Suddenly, I heard one of the crew members that brought the Lieutenant in shout to the EMH and they started arguing.

Conditions now favored action. I tapped the panel and without delay, I crawled out the door and with maximum efficiency, I stood up on the other side of the wall and started running down the corridor towards the turbolift.

I only looked back once and did not see anyone in pursuit.

When I reached the turbolift, I slammed my hand on the panel to open it and stepped in at the highest possible rate, “Bridge.”

Closure of the turbolift door was insufficiently rapid. I assessed a continued risk of detection.

The turbolift door finally closed and no one had entered the corridor. I let out a breath I did not know I was holding as the turblift ascended.

We had to be arriving to the Bajoran Wormhole very soon.

Fortunately, the turbolift ride was short and in rapid succession, the doors proceeded to open again to the Cairo’s bridge.

I stepped out of the turbolift and Kurn had turned to look and see who had arrived. Surprised when he saw me, he stood up straight, saluted me and announced, “Captain on the bridge.”

I heard the boatswain whistle go off. I nodded at Kurn and continued forward. By this point, Commander Darak was standing up from the Captain’s chair and walking over to me. I did not stop when our paths met and he turned around to walk by my side.

He whispered, “What are you doing here?”

Then he pointed to my outfit. “An.. interesting choice of attire as well?”

With precision I responded, “That is not my primary concern. The EMH can override our commands as much as he wants. I refuse to not be in command when the Cairo arrives through the Bajoran Wormhole.”

I proceeded to the captain’s chair and sat down. Commander Darak followed suite and sat in the secondary command chair to my right not taking his eyes off me the entire time. “I was under the impression I was… capable of maintaining command.”

Starring ahead at the main display as if his words were of no importance, I responded, “You are, but this was a Red Directive Mission. It’s only logical that I am in command of the Cairo when we arrive to Deep Space Nine as I was the First Officer. We cannot perceive the outcome of our mission briefing to Starfleet. It would be in both of our best interests to arrive in the appropriate ranking order.”

Out of my peripheral, I could see him eyeing me suspiciously.  “An… interesting conclusion.”

I ignored his statement. “Drim, time to the Bajoran Wormhole.”

He tapped a few things on his console, then responded, “Estimated arrival at the Bajoran Wormhole: five minutes.”

My objective was met within the required timeframe. I turned to my helmsman, “Ensign Jaxa, take us out of warp.”

“Aye, captain.”

Ensign Jaxa moved her hands across her console and I felt a shift in inertia. There was a brief deceleration in air pressure, the deck started to steady and the stars on the main display changed from streaking lines to fixed points instantly. The viewport seemed as though it snaped back to normal space.

I leaned back into my chair and shut my eyes.

I sought to prepare for anticipated conversations with Starfleet.

Until I felt a familiar hand cover mine from the right.

Rapidly, I removed my hand from his grasp and opened my eyes to address him.

Our gazes met and his emotional control appeared compromised. “Commander, I will need you to refrain from such physical nuisances.”

“I was not aware it would be considered inappropriate.”

“We are on duty, commander.”

“Whatever your preference.”

He sat back in his command chair and looked away from me annoyed.

This is why I had never bonded with anyone before.

Too much emotion was involved.

I heard a loud Klingon cough right beside me and I turned to my left to see Kurn standing there with a captain’s uniform shirt, Starfleet issued shoes, and 4 shiny golden pips. “A captain does not arrive… diminished. You will stand before them as a warrior-unchallenged.”

I stood up and grabbed the uniform from him. “Your actions reflect true honor.”

He let out a soft growl and returned to tactical.

Ignoring his distaste for my praise, I rapidly dressed into the rest of my uniform right on the bridge while the entire senior staff watched. Their observation was irrelevant.

Commander Darak’s actions suggested a deliberate effort to avoid interaction.

The matter was noted, but did not justify deviation from primary objectives.

When I finished primping myself to fit the role properly of command, I sat back down in the captain’s chair and returned my view to the main viewport. Drim spoke up again, “We are at the Bajoran Wormhole, captain.”

I kept my gaze on the main viewport. “Ensign, reduce speed.”

“Aye, captain.”

The ship’s hum lowered as I felt a slight decrease in our speed. Ensign Jaxa turned to face me, “Holding position at the threshold, captain. Ready to enter on your command.”

The time has come. “Engage.”

Ensign Jaxa nodded and faced back towards the helm and made her moves to prepare the ship for wormhole entry.

Space directly ahead of us began to distort subtly. A golden and white circular aperture formed. Space started to unfold like an iris of an eye was opening.

I turned to face Commander Darak. His gaze was intently fixed on the wormhole. There was a brief variance in my emotional control.

Before further reflection was possible, the aperture opened before us, light spilling outward as the ship crossed the threshold in the next moment and the exterior vanished.

Space gave way to light, the stars vanished around the ship creating a moment of disorientation. As we pushed through the wormhole’s luminous tunnel of flowing energy, light behavior was… inconsistent with known physics. It was pulsing, curving, and seemed to move with intent all around us. Colors of gold, white, soft blues that surrounded us almost felt alive. I felt something unnatural aware of our presence. It could not be explained, but the presence of something else was near.

For a moment, it felt as if we were not traveling through space, but we were being carried through it.

Time felt compressed and slightly detached. The ship was moving, but it did not feel like it was accelerating. Our environment was flowing past and all around us.

The flowing light started to tighten and narrow ahead. There was another brief flash of light brighter than when we entered. The ship was passing through another thin boundary layer. Then the ship made the motion like it was being released from the grasp of something much larger than itself.

Linear space-time parameters were restored. The transition to normal space was… immediate.

Stars appeared again as fixed points instantly. The wormhole remained opened, still glowing behind the ship as we moved forward at impulse.  

The entire bridge was fixed on the viewport.

In front of us was the clear unmistakable view of the stark, industrial, Cardassian-built station of Deep Space Nine.

We were alive… in the Alpha Quadrant.