USS Paradox Awakens - Star Trek Fanfiction (The Reality Paradox #7)

                                                                   

Aura moved from the helm toward the nearest operations console.

The display illuminated the instant her hand approached.

Another indication the ship's systems were functioning perfectly.

And that it could likely operate without a crew.

I followed her to the console and watched as information began flowing across the screen.

Ship schematics.

Power systems.

Internal diagnostics.

Thousands of entries moving faster than I could follow.

Aura remained silent.

For several minutes.

I let her continue reviewing the data before finally speaking.

"What have you found?"

Aura didn't answer immediately.

Her eyes remained fixed on the display.

Then she quietly said:

"The vessel is authentic."

I blinked.

"What?"

"The systems are internally consistent."

New information appeared.

Then more.

And more.

Construction records.

Maintenance logs.

Engineering documentation.

Small crew manifests.

Starfleet databases.

All of it connected.

All of it complete.

All of it impossible.

Aura finally stopped the information from scrolling and pointed to a section of the display.

"Construction Date: 3187."

My brain refused to process the number.

"Three one eight seven?"

"Yes, Captain."

I stared at the display.

Then at her.

Then back at the display.

"No."

Aura nodded.

"I have reached a similar conclusion."

More information appeared.

Hull Age: Indeterminate.

Temporal Exposure: Extreme.

Authorization Clearance: Starfleet Temporal Operations.

Propulsion System: Proto-Drive.

I rubbed my temples.

"What's a proto-drive?"

"I do not know."

"That's reassuring."

"No, Captain. It is not."

That earned the smallest smile from me.

The first real one in a while.

Aura continued reviewing the data.

"The vessel appears to have been designed for temporal field operations."

"Meaning?"

"The systems prioritize survival during temporal distortions, probability fluctuations, and reality destabilization events."

I looked around the bridge.

Then slowly nodded.

"So basically us."

"An unfortunate observation."

Another set of information scrolled across the display.

This time it appeared to be the vessel's primary mission profile.

Aura studied it.

Then went still.

Completely still.

A reaction I was beginning to associate with bad news.

"What is it?"

She didn't answer.

"Aura."

Finally, she looked toward me.

There was something in her expression that I thought I had seen earlier.

Not confusion.

Not uncertainty.

Not even concern.

Fear.

This time I was certain.

"The vessel's mission profile is incomplete."

"How incomplete?"

"The available records repeatedly reference scenarios in which normal physical laws are no longer reliable."

I stared at her.

Aura stared back.

Then quietly said:

"It appears this vessel was constructed for situations where reality itself cannot be trusted."

The hum of the ship suddenly seemed louder.

More present.

As though the vessel had been waiting for us.

For me.

Aura slowly looked around the bridge.

Then toward the dirt and rock walls visible beyond the viewport.

Then back to the display.

"Captain."

"What?"

For several seconds she said nothing.

"I believed my previous hypothesis was theoretical."

I immediately knew which one she meant.

"If logic continuously produces contradictory outcomes, does that not suggest our understanding of reality itself is incomplete?"

Aura nodded.

"The available evidence continues to support that conclusion."

I looked around the bridge.

At the impossible ship.

The impossible technology.

The impossible future.

Then I sat down in the center seat.

The chair adjusted itself instantly.

As though it recognized me.

I chose not to think about that.

"Aura."

"Captain?"

"Can it get us out of here?"

She hesitated.

A genuine hesitation.

Long enough that I almost repeated the question.

Then she looked toward the helm.

"The proto-drive is operational."

"That's not what I asked."

"I am aware."

I waited.

Aura's gaze lingered on the controls.

Almost reluctantly.

"As best I can determine..."

She paused.

"...yes."

I nodded once.

"Then let's go."

"Captain—"

"No."

I stood and looked through the viewport at the dirt and rock surrounding the ship.

I understood her hesitation.

But we literally had nowhere else to go, and we were sitting inside the only answer reality had provided.

"We can stay here and continue proving reality is broken."

My eyes shifted toward her.

"Or we can find out why."

Aura held my gaze for several seconds.

Then slowly moved back toward the helm and sat down.

I lowered myself into the captain's chair and couldn't decide whether I missed it or was simply excited to be leaving.

The controls illuminated beneath Aura's hands.

Power surged through the vessel.

Somewhere deep within the ship, systems that had slept for centuries—or perhaps had not yet been built—began to awaken.

The bridge lights dimmed.

A low vibration rolled through the deck.

The dirt surrounding the ship began to loosen.

I could hear rocks striking the hull before rolling away into the darkness.

The deck vibrated beneath our feet.

Not violently.

Just enough to remind me that something enormous had awakened.

Dust drifted from the ceiling around us.

The increasing vibration made it difficult to avoid.

Aura immediately looked up from her console.

"Captain."

I didn't look away from the viewport.

As though I expected something to emerge from the dirt directly in front of us.

"What now?"

"The surrounding geological structure is becoming unstable."

As if to emphasize her point, several small rocks tumbled past the forward viewport.

The chamber above us was changing.

Cracks spread through the compressed dirt walls.

More debris cascaded downward.

Aura studied the readings.

"I am no longer confident the surrounding terrain will remain intact during launch."

I glanced toward her.

"Can the ship withstand it?"

"Yes."

"Can we?"

Aura hesitated.

"Probably."

"Probably?"

"For a human, that is generally considered encouraging."

Another section of the cavern collapsed somewhere above us.

The bridge shook.

Aura looked back toward her display.

"The situation appears to be deteriorating."

That sounded like our cue to leave.

"Aura, get us clear of the surface."

"There is no surface opening."

"Then make one."

Aura looked over her shoulder.

"I do not believe that is how geological excavation typically works."

"I don't care where we're going."

I pointed toward the viewport.

"I care where we're not staying."

"Acknowledged."

Her hands moved flawlessly across the helm.

The hum of the warp core deepened.

More dirt and rock rolled from the hull.

Then I heard something else.

Metal.

Not twisting.

Resonating.

As though systems throughout the ship were aligning themselves for a purpose they had been waiting centuries to fulfill.

The vessel began to move.

Slowly at first.

Then steadily.

"Aura, status."

"Structural integrity fields at maximum."

Her fingers moved across another control.

"Activating forward deflector."

The deck vibrated harder.

I could feel thousands of tons of dirt shifting around us.

"Get us through these rocks safely."

I tightened my grip on the armrest.

"This is our one shot."

"Compensating for geological displacement, Captain."

The sound outside the hull grew louder.

Rocks.

Dirt.

Shifting earth.

Entire sections of the chamber collapsing around us.

For a moment I wondered if this was either the best idea I had ever had or the last one.

Probably both.

I tightened my grip on the armrest.

The sound of collapsing earth surrounding us grew even louder.

The hum of the warp core continued rising.

Aura looked up from the helm.

"Captain?"

I looked through the viewport.

At the dirt.

At the rock.

At the prison reality had built around us.

Then I smiled.

"Engage impulse, Aura."

I settled back into the captain's chair.

"Take us out."

The response was immediate.

The USS Paradox surged upward.

The viewport filled with exploding dirt and stone.

Thousands of tons of earth erupted away from the vessel as the forward deflector carved a path toward open sky.

The bridge rattled.

The inertial dampeners struggled to keep pace.

Then suddenly—

Light.

The ship burst through the surface.

Sunlight flooded the viewport.

Behind us the ground continued collapsing.

Entire sections of the landscape folded inward.

What I had assumed was natural terrain was anything but.

Massive bronze structures emerged from beneath the dirt.

Frameworks.

Supports.

Architectural shapes that had been hidden beneath the surface.

The same bronze alloy.

The same impossible material.

The same place Q had left us.

The same place reality had apparently built around us.

And now it was falling apart.

As the USS Paradox cleared the collapsing structure, thousands of tons of bronze alloy folded inward beneath us.

The impossible landscape that had surrounded us ceased to exist.

Dust and debris vanished into the darkness below.

For a brief moment, illuminated by the glow of the Paradox's engines, I saw the massive bronze letters one final time.

USS.

Not painted.

Not engraved.

Constructed.

As though the structure itself had once been part of something far larger.

Then the bronze framework disappeared beneath the collapsing ground.

And whatever reality had built for us was gone.

Gone so completely that only the stars remained.

Aura stared at the readings as the USS Paradox climbed through the atmosphere.

The planet below rapidly shrank from view.

Clouds slipped beneath us.

Then the sky darkened.

The familiar blackness of space replaced it.

Stars.

Thousands of them.

For the first time since waking in this impossible place, I felt something close to relief.

The sight was strangely comforting.

Almost familiar.

Almost home.

Aura continued studying the displays.

She sounded genuinely unsettled.

"Captain."

"Status?"

"We have successfully departed the planet's atmosphere and achieved orbit."

That much was obvious.

The stars filling the viewport were difficult to miss.

Aura continued reviewing the data.

Then her posture stiffened.

"What is it now?"

Several seconds passed.

"The proto-drive has completed initialization."

I looked toward her.

"The what?"

"The proto-drive."

She turned one of the displays toward me.

"The system is now fully operational."

I stared at the screen.

None of it made any sense.

Not that this had stopped being a problem several paradoxes ago.

"What exactly does that mean?"

Aura studied the display.

Then frowned.

Actually frowned.

That was somehow more concerning than anything she had said so far.

"I am uncertain."

I blinked.

"You're uncertain?"

"Yes."

I pointed toward the display.

"The ship doesn't know?"

"The ship knows."

"And you don't?"

"Correct."

That seemed backwards.

"The available documentation appears to assume the reader already understands the technology."

"Helpful."

"No, Captain. It is not."

I leaned back in the command chair.

"What can it do?"

Aura examined the display again.

Then looked up.

"The computer indicates the vessel is capable of executing an inter-quadrant jump."

I sat upright.

"Inter-quadrant?"

"Yes."

"How long would that take?"

Aura looked back toward the display.

The answer clearly bothered her.

Then again, everything seemed to bother her lately.

"According to the computer..."

She hesitated.

"...minutes."

I stared at her.

"No."

Aura nodded.

"I have reached a similar conclusion."

For several moments neither of us spoke.

The stars drifted silently beyond the viewport.

The impossible ship hummed around us.

The impossible future continued proving it existed.

Finally I broke the silence.

"Where are we?"

Aura looked down at her console.

Then at another.

Then another.

The answer clearly wasn't improving.

"Captain."

That was never a good sign.

"What?"

"We have officially departed the planet's atmosphere and orbital influence."

"Good."

Aura looked up.

"I am unable to determine the planet's location."

I blinked.

"What?"

"The stellar cartography database contains no matching records."

"Try again."

"I have."

"Try harder."

"I have also done that."

I rubbed my forehead.

That answer somehow felt familiar.

"You're telling me we don't know where we are?"

"No, Captain."

She looked back toward the display.

Then quietly added:

"I do not believe we know where we ever were."

That earned a laugh.

A genuine laugh.

Probably because the alternative was panic.

Aura looked mildly confused.

"Was that intended to be humorous?"

"No."

"Then why are you laughing?"

I stood and looked out at the stars.

Because after everything that had happened, after reality had rewritten itself repeatedly, after Q had abandoned us inside an impossible construct and reality had responded by handing us a starship from the thirty-second century...

The answer honestly didn't matter anymore.

"Because we're moving."

Aura watched me for a moment.

Then returned her attention to the helm.

"Captain?"

I settled back into the center seat.

The seat felt strangely natural.

As though I belonged there.

Maybe I did.

Maybe reality thought I did.

That was becoming an increasingly dangerous question.

"Set a course for answers."

Aura studied the helm.

Then the stars beyond the viewport.

Finally she nodded.

"Acknowledged."

The proto-drive remained ready.

The future waited.

And somewhere beyond the stars, the answers were waiting too.

The USS Paradox turned toward the unknown.

And for the first time since this began, we finally left.