//------------------------------// // I - The Birth of a Mystery // Story: The Spark // by GMBlackjack //------------------------------// I - The Birth of a Mystery Captain’s Log, Stardate 54013.02. It seems good fortune has come our way. It has been two years since the end of the Dominion war, and Starfleet Command has determined the peace to be stable—perhaps even more stable than it was before the war broke out in the first place. With the official report released, Starfleet is once again turning its attention to exploration. Due to our exemplary service over the years, and the fact that our desire to explore strange new worlds is no secret to the Admiralty, the Enterprise is to be one of the first ships in a so-called “New Wave of Exploration” to be sent into the unknown. I was given several possible assignments to choose from, and I have selected a particular one with a bit of a mystery attached to it. A few weeks ago, Federation listening outposts in the Gamma Quadrant detected unusual subspace bursts that all occurred within seconds of each other, releasing signals never before heard into the galaxy. With one exception, the sources of these bursts lie within Sector Block 3120, a section of largely unexplored space far from the Dominion’s borders, yet somewhat close to the Bajoran Wormhole. One signal, however, arrived a few seconds after the others, and it did not appear in the Gamma Quadrant, but the Alpha; on Bajor itself, no less. And so the Enterprise is currently en route to Bajor to investigate the signal before entering the Wormhole to find the others. We will stock up on all necessary supplies and personnel at Deep Space Nine. I hear Ambassador Worf is currently visiting the station—I do hope he is still there when we arrive, it will be good to see him. Personally, I am quite delighted to finally return to what, I feel, is one of the major purposes of commanding a Starfleet vessel. The universe is a great unknown, and it will be a good change of pace from the rather hectic lives we have been living these last few years. I look forward to what secrets these signals will reveal, as well as all the strange worlds we will be the first to lay eyes on. [~~+] Some would say space is a cold, heartless place. Such an assertion would only be true in the technical sense. Yes, its temperature was abysmally low, but if one were to step out of an airlock they would find themselves strangely warm, for the absolute nothingness could do little to take body heat away. It was also true that space had no will of its own, no thoughts, and arguably no direction. Yet, who could look upon the swath of brilliant stars against inky blackness and not find beauty within it? Each individual speck was a world that called out to all who gazed upon it: promising entire worlds to any who would do so much as to come. A single, small ship drifted through the stars. It was triangular, wingless, and had a rusted-orange color. Two cylinders on its underside glowed a soft orange, indicative of great power flowing within the craft. From within one of the windows, two sparkling eyes stared out into the abyss of space in absolute wonder, the stars dominating the owner’s entire field of view, as well as a good chunk of her thoughts. The little ship carried its passengers—she was far from the only one on board—to another island of substance in the nothingness of space. The destination was far larger, for it was a space station formed of multiple concentric rings attached by three elongated sections that extended all the way into the center. Three crescent-shaped prongs stood at the edges of the outer ring, curving above and below the station’s primary plane, providing six large ports for ships that could not interface with the outer ring’s primary docking bays. This was Deep Space Nine, the legendary space station that guarded the mouth of the Bajoran Wormhole, the only known stable wormhole in existence. Dozens of ships passed through it every day, moving to and from the Gamma Quadrant of the galaxy several thousands of light years away. It had been a key player in the recent war and still retained much status as the last stop before the unknown. Dozens of ships flew around the station at any given time, a fair number of them of similar design to the small ship currently approaching from afar. However, they were far from alone—ships of a large myriad of colors and shapes swirled in the nearby space; some content to simply drift, others attached firmly to one of the many docks, and still others that were in a constant hurry to get somewhere quick. The largest ship currently docked on one of the upper protrusions was a flat, gray ship with a flattened ovoid head and two blue rods that extended from the back a bit like rigid, slightly separated tails. Unlike the small ship, which only had a few windows, this one had hundreds of them, revealing there to be well over a dozen decks within the ovoid saucer section alone, not even counting the guts of the ship. Printed in bold lettering on the front hull was the ship’s designation: USS ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E. Not that the little ship’s passenger could read that. This did not keep her from being utterly awed by the ship’s size and design—now that she was getting closer, she could see that it was easily the size of a city, perhaps larger! There were some people on there who probably expected to live their entire lives within its walls… Soon, however, her ship got too close to Deep Space Nine to provide a good view of the Enterprise, so she finally tore her gaze away from the window. That meant they would be docking any moment now, and she would finally be able to see the inside of the legendary station. There was a loud clank as her ship docked. She took in a deep breath and walked out with the rest of the passengers. At first, nobody noticed her, for she was in the middle of a somewhat large group of ordinary Bajorans, humanoid creatures with wrinkled noses, the vast majority of which wore shimmering earrings on their right ears. However, as they dispersed, they revealed the passenger to all while simultaneously revealing the station to her. She was less than a meter tall and walked on four smooth, white hooves that matched the color of her lightly fuzzy coat. Her mane and tail naturally formed large swirling curls, each strand of hair a pastel pink or purple. A good third of her body mass was taken up by her head which sported two enormous, forward-facing eyes and a single rounded horn coming out of her forehead. The horn in question was currently glowing softly, an identical aura wrapped around her small number of levitating belongings. Her telekinesis currently held a single backpack designed for a species that didn’t walk on four legs, a data pad with the title Bajoran Standard Alphabet currently on it with a bunch of pictures and interactive video files under the words, and a half-eaten cone-shaped pastry. The unicorn—for what else would a being like her be called?—took a bite out of the pastry and swished her tail around, unintentionally drawing attention to the vibrant mark situated on both of her flanks: a tri-colored shield with a star and a musical note in it. Already the people were starting to stare at her, but it would be a while before she noticed, because just as they were taking in her appearance, she was taking in theirs. The station’s Promenade was an extended circular corridor with two levels, both of which housed entrances to every shop, business, and other service that a thriving space station could want or need. There were restaurants serving food that ranged from tantalizing to revolting to the unicorn’s nose, but even the worst smells were ones she’d never experienced before so she took them in with relish. Somewhere, she could hear games being played with joyous cheers echoing throughout the bustle. What a bustle it was—people of all sorts of colors and types walked around. There were ones with blue skin, ones with ridges on their foreheads, pointed ears, complete lack of a nose, scales lining their bodies, massive orange ears… however, there was a notable theme among them, and that was their shape. Every person the unicorn saw walked on two legs, had two arms, and a head—the humanoid body archetype. She didn’t see a single other one like her, and once she consciously realized this, she noticed the stares everyone was giving her. “Eheh…” she laughed nervously. “Um… hi!” “Don’t worry, they won’t bite, they’re just curious.” The unicorn looked up to see a white humanoid with pink, shiny hair and no nose addressing her. She was standing behind a kiosk selling bottles filled with liquids of various strange colors. With a flick of her fingers she adjusted her hat so she could look the unicorn right in the eyes and give her a warm smile. “Ah. Thanks.” The unicorn lifted up one of her legs, displaying amazing flexibility in her shoulder joint that allowed her to rub the back of her head with her hoof. “I kinda knew that already, just… didn’t really grasp it until right now.” She had to crane her neck to look into the alien woman’s eyes, but she was getting used to that feeling at this point. “Hey, um, know where I would go to find someone who might be willing to help a lost filly find her home?” “Security will probably help you, they’re down the promenade that way, outer edge of the ring. They’ll probably notice you before you notice them, though.” “Thanks!” The unicorn gave the woman a wave and trotted off. Honestly, not sure Security are exactly the best people for this, but they might be able to direct me to the right place. As she made her way through the Promenade, she found that she minded the stares less and less. None of them were trying to hurt her, or even looked at her with distaste. They were simply curious about the small creature walking around with a bundle of things wrapped in shimmering telekinesis. Most of them would smile and nod at her when they made eye contact, and a few even looked embarrassed to have been caught staring. There’s nothing to be afraid of here. She realized that she was getting closer and closer to the cheers. She was able to make out the words now—“Dabo!” was apparently what someone shouted when they won some game. Joyous laughs and pleasant conversation reached her ears, and as she continued to turn, she caught sight of the place it was all coming from; a large establishment with two levels, comfortable lighting, and a larger density of people than most anywhere else on the station. There were numerous tables where people were sitting and drinking or having food, while in the back there were several fat pedestals with spinning wheels in them that people were playing a game at. A second level rested above the first floor, with darker lighting far away from the spinning games, evidentially to give a quieter dining experience away from the loud gamblers. “Dabo!” someone shouted again, and the unicorn couldn’t help but smile. “Well well well, what have we here?” The unicorn craned her neck upward to see the proprietor of the establishment—a somewhat short, by humanoid standards, man with orange skin, a truly ugly nose, and pointed teeth. The unicorn would have been tempted to think him a monster were it not for his ridiculously lumpy forehead and tremendous ears. “You have Sweetie Belle!” Sweetie said, introducing herself. “And you are?” “Quark!” He said with a grin. “Owner of Quark’s Bar, Grill, Gaming House, and Holosuite Arcade!” “Seems like a fun place!” “You bet your four hooves it is! Though, I’m afraid I don’t have any chairs for you. Don’t get quadrupeds that often, you see.” Sweetie hopped on top of a bar stool and sat on it, making her face only slightly below Quark’s. “I think I can manage—I’m small enough!” “Well then… what’ll it be?” “I have no idea!” Sweetie said, opening her pack. “I have some money, but the Bajorans told me it wouldn’t get me very far.” “Bah!” Quark blurted, leaning down on the bar’s countertop so he could get closer to her. “Anyone can turn a little money into much more at the Dabo tables.” Sweetie rolled her eyes. “I definitely don’t have enough to spend on gambling.” “The riskier the road, the greater the profit. Ferengi Rule of Acquisition number sixty-two.” Sweetie shook her head. “Sorry, but no. Some food and a chat might be nice, though.” “Suit yourself,” he handed her a data pad. “Here’s the menu, see anything you like?” “My species doesn’t eat meat, is there a way to sort this?” Quark pressed a few buttons on the pad. “And there you are! For you, I recommend the deluxe Rigelian Grill-Grass.” “That does sound good…” Sweetie admitted, tapping the words on the menu, bringing up a picture. She could see the fresh blades of lightly-charred grass laying on a plate with a shimmering orange sauce. “Ooooh… Yes, this will do nicely!” “Coming right u—” “You should probably know that photo is doctored up quite a bit.” Sweetie swiveled around on the stool to look at a cat-like humanoid wearing a yellow uniform with a smooth metal chevron pinned on the chest. She recognized the uniform—she had seen several like it on the Promenade. This was a Starfleet officer, of… well, she knew the yellow signified what sort of position he held, but she currently didn’t remember what specifically it was. “She already ordered, Ensign,” Quark said with a huff. “But she hasn’t paid you yet!” “A vocal contract is still a contract!” Quark folded his arms. “And now you’re making a little bit of a scene. That’s not good for business…” “W-well, uh…” the confidence that had been in the cat-person’s face was gone Sweetie raised her hoof. “I still want the grass.” Quark broke out into a toothy grin. “And she doesn’t even need your help after all. You Starfleet types, always jumping in to help when nobody wants or needs it…” He chuckled to himself as he went to tell one of the people who worked for him to make the food—rather aggressively, but not exactly in a mean way. The Starfleet officer started to walk away. “Wait, don’t go!” Sweetie called, fixing him with a smile. “It’s actually really nice that you tried to help me there—I just didn’t want you to get in trouble over something I was going to order and eat anyway. Thanks!” The cat-person bowed his head. “You are welcome, even though it was unnecessary.” “So… why don’t you sit down and talk? You don’t look like you were doing anything.” “…Oh, sure, why not.” He sat down next to her. “I am Ensign H’roh of the Federation starship Enterprise.” “And I’m Sweetie Belle! Of.. uh… Equestria, I guess?” “Take my advice—don’t turn your introduction into a formality like we do. It gets a little boring and repetitive after hearing it for the thousandth time.” One of his ears flicked subtly as he smirked, looking at her with focused, slitted eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are absolutely fascinating. I’ve never seen a creature like you!” “Well, that’s too bad,” Sweetie said, smile faltering. “I… am kinda hoping to find someone who knows about people like me.” “What for?” “I don’t know how I got here and I don’t know how to get home. Nobody has ever seen anything like me before out here among the stars…” “Well, I have access to the Enterprise’s computers… let me see if I can look you up.” H’roh tapped the silver chevron on his chest, revealing it to be some kind of communication device. “H’roh to Enterprise, requesting permission to patched into ship’s computer for a basic search.” “Granted,” a dull feminine voice came from the communicator. “Query?” “Quadrupedal sapient ungulates with forward facing eyes and a spiral horn emerging from their foreheads.” “No results found. Most closely matches a creature from ancient human folklore known as a unicorn.” “Dabo!” someone shouted from the gaming tables. Sweetie shook her head. “Well, thanks for trying. Really.” “I wish I could do more,” H’roh admitted. “Well, you can tell me about yourself, your ship, and this… place. I’m new and you seem really friendly, and as a good friend of mine likes to say, friendship is magic!” “Well then… I am what is known as a Caitian, one of the long-standing members of the United Federation of Planets…” [~~+] The Federation may not have been the largest power in the Galaxy, but it was by far the most varied. There were over a hundred and fifty member worlds within it, spread over eight thousand light-years—and that only included homeworlds. There were countless colonies, research outposts, space stations, and city-ships like the Enterprise itself that were home to a sizeable chunk of the Federation’s population. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of different sapient species had some presence within the Federation, while the majority of other powers in the Galaxy were defined by one dominant race; even the distant Dominion, who had more diversity than most, still swore fealty to the Founders above all else. It was often said that the Federation was really no different, and that the humans dominated the population; in truth, humans were just the most disposed to explore the great unknown, so they were generally the species seen most often by the Federation’s neighbors. If one were to investigate the cultural centers, humans would become less dominant, though as a founding member their presence was never completely absent. This resulted in the somewhat awkward situation of humans being the face of the Federation. Starfleet was the Federation’s primary division tasked with deep space activity, and a sizeable number of the ship captains were human—and the history books that mentioned great captains tended to mention more humans than otherwise. Yet, virtually no human in the Federation would say they were any better or worse than the other members, it just happened that their ambitions had led them to Starfleet rather than another sector. Captain Jean-Luc Picard, long-standing chief officer aboard the Enterprise, was a man who had already inserted himself into the history books for a wide array of spectacular feats. He and his crew made first contact with the Q, uncovered an insidious plot by mind parasites to destabilize the Federation, defended Earth from the Borg multiple times, and had made an astounding number of scientific discoveries on their journey through the stars. Picard himself had been offered the rank of Admiral numerous times, but each and every one he had turned down. Perhaps one day he would be too old to run around the stars at maximum warp and could take a more administrative role in Starfleet’s operations, but that day was not today. Today, he was about to set off on a new adventure. “Tea, Earl Grey, hot,” Picard spoke to the food replicator, which took the form of a rectangular depression in the wall. The replicator heeded his voice and, with a swirl of bright particles, a mug of the desired beverage was created in front of his eyes. He picked it up with his wrinkled hands and took a small sip. He never grew tired of the taste or the smell—something about it calmed his nerves even when he was already relaxed. With his piping hot drink, he made his way to the little window at the back of his ready room that looked out to the stars. The first thing he saw was himself, reflected back at him. Most who saw him these days would call him old, though few would do so to his face—not out of fear, but out of respect. His head was completely bald and wrinkles lined his face, yet he still stood tall, his red uniform declaring him to be a member of the command division, and the four pips on his collar signifying his Captain’s rank. He soon looked beyond his reflection and out to the scene outside. At the moment, there were no ships flying past his field of view, and his ready room was on top of the Enterprise so he couldn’t see Deep Space Nine turning below them. All he could see was the endless expanse of stars that filled the universe. He could identify several of them. Not Sol—Earth was far too distant from here to be seen—but he identified several stars that marked members of the Federation. None of them were anything resembling close by, and there wouldn’t be until Bajor itself joined, and while that result seemed likely it was ultimately still up in the air. The Bajorans were in a situation to get along just fine on their own with the Wormhole being right in their backyard. Deep Space Nine was named as such because it was a Deep Space Outpost far from most of the Federation’s infrastructure. Out here, explorers were mostly on their own, and once they were through the wormhole there would be even less at their disposal. Picard did not consider this a negative—nothing ever got done without pushing the limits a little. “Captain,” the monotone voice of Commander Data, the Federation’s only android, called over the intercom. “Ambassador Worf has arrived.” Picard couldn’t help but smile. “Send him in as soon as the rest of the crew have given him their greetings.” “Oh, we already have. Did not want to rush him.” “Then what are you waiting for?” “Nothing at all, Captain.” With that, the doors to Picard’s ready room slid open and Ambassador Worf came in—he was a tall, dark-skinned Klingon with intense angular ridges on his forehead, intense eyebrows, and a rounded beard. He was clearly a tall, strong individual—common for the warrior-culture from which his species hailed. In Picard’s memory, this man had been his security officer in a brilliant yellow uniform adorned with a metallic sash. The sash remained, but the uniform was gone—in its place was a black Klingon uniform that also served as light armor. “Ah, Worf, it is good to see you!” Picard said. “Come, sit, and tell me how life as the Federation Ambassador to the Klingon Empire has been for you.” Worf gave the Captain a curt nod and sat down. “It has been… an interesting change of pace, and it comes with its own challenges quite unlike any I had faced before. I have seen battle in many forms, and I can now say that peace itself is a battle, more of wills than of might.” “Perhaps I should have let you take over for me from time to time, you would have learned that quite a bit sooner.” “I should have been able to learn it simply by having served so long under you.” “Some things can only be learned by doing,” Picard folded his hands together. “What those things are changes depending on the people involved.” Worf let out a grunt that Picard had come to associate with the equivalent of an amused snort. “There is much truth in those words.” “It sounds like there’s a story there…” “Less of one than I would like. For the first year I worked tirelessly, improved connections between the Empire and the Federation, started many programs… and I inadvertently made myself lesser.” “That is not a bad thing, Worf.” “Perhaps not. Relations between our people have scarcely been stronger.” “Quite a feat, considering we were shooting at each other not too long ago.” Worf shook his head. “I cannot take all the credit for that—being allies in a fight against a great enemy is all the Empire needs to recognize a once-thought enemy as a true friend, and the Federation has always sought peace. The groundwork was already laid, I merely sewed the pieces in place.” “Surely there is more work to be done…?” Worf looked out the window into the depths of space. “Yes, much, but the people I have instated and the programs I made… are operating themselves. Many days I do nothing at all. There are no duties, no dangers… and few true friends.” Picard nodded. “We all miss the ‘good old days’ every now and then.” “Ah, but you are reclaiming the ‘good old days,’ Captain.” “Perhaps we are… preparing to go off into the great unknown.” Picard smiled. “Naturally, if this were to be a small outing, I would invite you in a heartbeat. But this will be an extended mission and I can’t ask you to leave your ties for so long.” Worf bared his teeth in a slight grin. “You would be surprised, Captain.” Picard’s eyes widened. “Are you certain?” “The foundations have been laid, and others can take my place. There is no more need for me in the Empire. The other Ambassadors are trusted, and Martok has found many friends among his people. And, in truth, I long for the stars just as much as you do.” “Well… I’m sure there will be some paperwork to deal with. Particularly nasty paperwork that only exists for this particular situation…” “I’m sure Data can handle it.” Picard let out a short chuckle. “Indeed…” He took another sip of his tea. “…If you are certain, I may have something for you to do already.” “Oh?” “Riker will be taking a team down to Bajor to see if he can illuminate the source of the strange subspace signal. Perhaps you would like to join them?” Worf bowed his head. “I would be honored to serve once more.” “Well, I hereby grant you your old rank of Lieutenant Commander as a ‘temporary’ installment until I can get the paperwork sorted out with the higher ups.” Worf nodded, moving to stand. “And slow down, Commander. I haven’t dismissed you yet and we still have much to talk about.” [~~+] “Why do they call it a Wormhole?” Sweetie asked H’roh as she pressed her face to one of Deep Space Nine’s many windows. “I’m… not sure. It’s a hole that connects two places of space together, like the holes worms make in fruit?” “Seems like a stretch to me.” “Well, I didn’t name it, so…” He shrugged. “I’m surprised it hasn’t shown up yet, usually a ship will pass through by now.” “I don’t mind waiting a bit, I don’t really have anywhere important to be.” She let her eyes drift to one of the various stars. Perhaps that one was hers? Or that one? Or… maybe that one? She already knew the chances were slim that she could see it from here. Yellow stars couldn’t be seen from very far away, and given how different the constellations looked it had to be really far away. On the ride here she had come across some nomadic blue-skinned aliens who were able to point to the night sky and say “there it is, that’s our home.” She really wished she could do that right now. H’roh must have sensed her saddening mood. “We may not be aware of your species, but perhaps I can help in another way. How did you arrive on Bajor?” “I was looking for something interesting to do, walking along the outskirts of Ponyville—yes, that’s the name of my hometown, and yes, I already know it sounds ridiculous to all of you.” “Naming a settlement the equivalent of ‘person place’ is not exactly unheard of.” “Still a little silly,” Sweetie said. “Anyway, I had found a rock and decided it wasn’t very interesting. And then… I saw something that’s all a bit fuzzy in my memory.” She closed her eyes. “It was… full of colors. Black and red… or… well, maybe not…” She felt a headache coming on that prompted her to shake her head and open her eyes once more. “Whatever it was, I didn’t see it for very long. This… White hole appeared beneath me and I fell through. Next thing I knew I was on Bajor.” “A wormhole grabbed you?” “Maybe?” Sweetie said, shrugging by lifting one hoof and rolling the shoulder it was attached to. “It’s my best guess, anyway. Weird thing, though, while it was White on my end, after I had fallen through, I could look through it and see the forest I’d come from. It vanished before I could try to jump back through. Then I was stuck.” She let out a huff. “It’s so… annoying to not know anything. I feel like I should be able to figure out what happened and how to get back but there’s just nothing to go off of.” H’roh scratched his furry chin. “Well… that doesn’t sound like anything I’ve encountered, even in theory. I am just a lowly warp core technician, though, so wormholes and weird white portals aren’t exactly my specialty.” “I don’t think it’s anyone’s specialty…” At that moment, a ship just outside the window approached the great Bajoran Wormhole. Normally, the gateway was entirely invisible, but the moment anything solid approached it, the cosmic vortex sprung to life. There was a bright flash that quickly erupted into a disc-shaped swirl of blue with a glowing core. It was absolutely enormous, dwarfing the triangular ship approaching it by a factor of hundreds. Unfazed, the little ship entered the center of the twist in spacetime and vanished within the glow—a moment later, the wormhole closed with a flash of amber light, once again returning space to its illusory empty state. Sweetie’s jaw was hanging open. “Told you it would be awesome!” “…I want to fly into it,” Sweetie said, eyes all but sparkling with eagerness. “I don’t care that it’s nothing at all like what brought me here, I just… wanna see it.” “I’m sure you could find a ship to take you through, there are all sorts who journey into the Gamma Quadrant, and that telekinetic ability of yours will make you quite useful.” “…Can I go with your ship?” H’roh started. “U-uh, I… I don’t…” “Ah, okay,” Sweetie said, smiling sadly. H’roh locked his hands behind his back. “Look, Sweetie, it’s not because I don’t think you’d do great on the Enterprise, it’s just that… I’m an Ensign. A little nobody who does mechanical work on the warp core, usually on the night shift. Captain Picard doesn’t even know my name. I don’t think I could get you on board.” “Well, it was worth a shot!” Sweetie forced a grin. “I guess I should probably go asking around for ships, huh? Hire myself out as a wizard! …Even though I don’t know many spells, it seems like everyone out here hardly knows any.” “Spells? You think your ability is… magic?” “Well I’m sure there’s probably some explanation for it, and Twilight—someone from my home—could probably explain the finer points of the theory behind it, but to most everyone in Equestrian it’s just magic. We unicorns can use our horns to shape it into many different forms. I know telekinesis, acceleration, loud voice, and the basic survival kit; water purification, fire starter, etcetera.” “There are many races with unusual abilities, but most have specific applications and not such a… wide variety.” “And I’m only slightly above average at it, Twilight knows thousands of spells. I think.” Sweetie tapped her chin. “I actually never asked her how many she knows…” “There will be people who want to take advantage of your uniqueness. You should be wary of those who wish to do ‘experiments.’ “ “Yeah… but I gotta start looking for home somehow.” H’roh glanced at a clock showing station time in one of the nearby pylons. “I have time. I may not be able to get you on the Enterprise, but I can help you find another ship here. A Starfleet uniform gives you some level of recognition, even if you are just a lowly Ensign.” “You will? Oh thank you thank you thank you!” She started jumping around so quickly and with such excitement that H’roh wondered if she was using that “acceleration spell” of hers. It took quite some time to calm her down enough where they could actually get to work, but once that happened, they set to finding her a ship willing to take her on and through the wormhole. [~~+] One moment, it was an empty Bajoran field that hadn’t even been planted yet, though the earth was freshly plowed. The next, there was a swirl of blue lights and three men in Starfleet uniforms materialized out of thin air. Two wore red and one yellow. One of the red men was none other than Worf, already surveying the area for potential threats and hazards even though they were in the middle of rural country on a peaceful, allied planet. It was his job and he would do it well. The man in yellow had an unusually pale complexion and an almost eerily smooth haircut that matched his somewhat blank expression. The pips on his uniform were the same number and style as Worf’s, indicating that he was also a Lieutenant Commander. While Worf was looking around for threats, the pale man took out a rectangular scanning device to examine the surroundings. “The tricorder is not picking up much,” he reported, continuing to move the device all around. “Is this the right place, Data?” Worf asked. “Affirmative,” Data said, pressing a few buttons. “The coordinates match, and subspace is still detectably disturbed, though it has almost returned to undetectable levels of fluctuation.” “Can you learn anything from these fluctuations?” the leader of the away team, a tall man with a bold but short-haired beard asked. “I can more precisely pin down the point of origin,” Data said, turning until his tricorder let out a beep. “Forty meters that way, Commander.” Commander Riker nodded. “Then lead the way.” “I shall take up the rear,” Worf said, falling in line. Riker couldn’t help but smile in amusement. “Worf, I would say you try too hard, but you wouldn’t be you without that.” “On the contrary, Commander,” Data called back. “People change all the time. I did not stop being Data when I installed the emotion chip, did I?” “No… I suppose not,” Riker admitted. “Though I have to admit, sometimes I forget you put that thing in.” “That is likely because the chip overwhelmed me when it was first inserted and prompted quite a few ridiculous and quite amusing outbursts. Compared to that, my current state seems much more like my old monotone self, with a few bits of flair thrown in here and there.” His usually stoic face broke out into a grin and he tapped his head with his finger before returning to normal. “Such as that, for instance.” Their journey led them toward a Bajoran farmhouse, the only building anywhere near them. “In the house?” Riker asked. “No,” Data said. “Just outside it, we will not need to trespass.” “Unless we are trespassing on their farmland,” Worf observed. “If that were the case, I am sure the Captain would have made arrangements for us. As he did not, it must not have been necessary.” At this point, they heard a woman shout—but it wasn’t in anger or distress, but excitement. “Hugh! We have visitors, come quick!” The shout had come from a Bajoran woman in green with long flowing hair. Her husband quickly rushed out of the house, grinning. “Well would you look at that, you’re right, visitors!” “Starfleet, no less! I’ll get started on the pie right away…” “Thanks for the offer, but that won’t be necessary!” Riker called. “Nonsense!” the woman said with a dismissive hand. “You’re here, and even if you have to go soon you can at least take the pie with you.” She ran back into the house while her husband walked up to them. “So, you Starfleet types like fields, do you?” Data shrugged. “The field is irrelevant, though quite aesthetically pleasing in its unbroken state, yearning for new life. Our purposes are more investigative in nature.” “Oh, science types, are you?” Hugh laughed. “My son wants to be like you some day, he’s always tinkering up some new gadget or other in the basement, crazy kid. And—hey, I know you! You’re Worf!” Worf tensed, but his chest inflated slightly. “Yes, that’s me.” “I heard all about what you did on the news! Why, I’ve even been to Deep Space Nine—little Jimbo wanted a vacation in space and who were we to refuse?” He picked up Worf’s hand and started shaking it. “It really is a pleasure, no, an honor to meet you, sir!” “…Charmed,” Worf managed through a clenched jaw. “Why, sometimes I wonder if I could be like you, out there in the stars, saving the Galaxy…” the man proceeded to go on and on and Worf couldn’t come up with a good reason to cut him off. In the end it was Data who came to his rescue. “My scans are complete, Commander. I have determined the precise location where the subspace signal originated.” “Where?” Riker asked. “Right where you are standing.” Riker looked down at the plain, simple dirt beneath his feet. “I take it the dirt’s completely normal.” “Affirmative. Aside from residual rippling of subspace, this area is completely normal.” “Not so!” Hugh said. “Why, that spot’s where our little Sweetie showed up!” “…Sweetie?” Worf asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yes! Here, let me show you…” He pulled out a small wallet-like satchel and flipped through several photographs of his family, eventually pulling one out of a little white unicorn smiling brightly at the camera. “This is her! Isn’t she just the cutest?” “What a fascinating creature!” Data exclaimed, leaning in for a closer look. “I have never seen anything like her!” “And quite cute,” Riker admitted, noting that the word made Worf squirm slightly. “You say she just… appeared here?” “Yes, though none of us saw it happen, we just heard her shouting and came running out. Poor thing… she’d just been minding her own business when she was sucked here, away from her home. She thought we were monsters, at first!” He couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. “But she quickly warmed up to us. Took a bit for her to tell us everything, but after that, well… she was one of us.” “Where is she now?” Riker asked. Hugh couldn’t help but look a little sad. “Well… as much as she liked it here, she still wanted to go home to her family, you know? We couldn’t figure out where it was, but the best shot was probably to go looking for it. We sent her off to Deep Space Nine to see if she could find someone more qualified to... well, help her. She probably arrived today.” Riker let out a chuckle. “Well, team, it looks like we passed the very person we were looking for.” “So it seems,” Worf said. “We should probably head back, we’ll want to catch her before she gets off station.” Riker nodded to Hugh. “Afraid we’ll have to miss your wife’s no doubt very delicious pie.” “What are you talking about?” Hugh shook his head. “It’s probably done by now!” “Ready!” his wife called, running out of the house with two steaming hot pies. “Here you go!” Data carefully took the two confections. “Thank you.” “Hey, did you know these guys are looking for Sweetie?” Hugh asked his wife. She gasped. “Really? Do you know how to get her home?” “I do not know,” Data admitted. “However, she is no doubt related to the strange phenomenon we are currently investigating. Perhaps in our studies we shall uncover the answer.” The woman put a hand on Data’s shoulder. “She really misses her sister… please, I know the pleadings of a little farmer’s wife on Bajor don’t mean much to you, but… get her home.” “No one should be torn from her home and her people,” Worf said. “I am sure we will do all we can.” “Thank you.” Riker tapped his comm badge. “Riker to Enterprise, turns out that what we’re looking for is probably already on Deep Space Nine. Have Major Kira search the station logs for a white quadruped with a horn.” He tapped his badge again. “Riker to shuttlecraft, three to beam up.” They left in the same manner in which they had arrived—in a swirling whirlwind of blue sparkles. [~~+] “Look, horse—” “Pony,” Sweetie corrected. The human man put his artificial, metallic fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Look, pony, we don’t take on sob stories, it’s just not good for business. And I’m pretty sure you don’t got the stomach for bounty huntin’, so why don’t you and your little fuzzface friend go bug some other ship, eh?” “Right, s-sorry to bother you,” H’roh said. “For a Starfleet officer, you sure look nervous. Dangers of space getting to you?” The man grinned. “W-we were just going,” H’roh said, leading Sweetie away. Sweetie sighed. “Well, I liked the look of him and his ship… but he’s probably right, bounty hunting isn’t for me.” She glanced up at her friend and frowned. “Are you okay?” “This is a lot harder and more stressful than I thought it would be,” H’roh admitted, using a hand to steady himself on a nearby pylon. “So many grizzled captains who know so much more than me… I’m just an Ensign!” “But you’re an Ensign on the Enterprise! That’s, well, I think that’s really cool.” “Just a small part…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry Sweetie, it seems I’m not as well qualified to help you as I thought.” “You kept me from signing up with those Ferengi who probably wanted to sell me.” She shivered. “I still don’t get how people can even do that…” “There are… many types of people in the universe, Sweetie. Most of them are not as nice as your stories of your fellow ponies.” “You’re pretty nice, if a bit nervous and stressed.” “Gee, thanks.” Sweetie gave him a wry smile. “Only the best of half-compliments for my good friend.” “Right…” “Should we try someone else?” H’roh nodded, pulling out a data pad. “Let’s see here… there’s a group of Bajoran traders heading out to the Gamma Quadrant tomorrow. Maybe them…” “Enterprise to Ensign H’roh,” a voice came from H’roh’s badge. H’roh tapped it immediately. “This is Ensign H’roh.” “Do you, by chance, happen to be standing with a white quadruped with a horn?” H’roh glanced down at Sweetie with a confused expression. “Uh… y-yes?” “Hi!” Sweetie waved at the badge. “I’m Sweetie Belle!” “Perfect. Ensign, please report to the Enterprise with Miss Belle as quickly as you can—that is, assuming Miss Belle is willing to come aboard for a visit.” “…Yes. Please. Let me onto the big spaceship.” Sweetie opened her eyes as wide as she could manage. “I’m begging you.” H’roh gave her an awkward smile. “We’ll be there right away. Two to beam up.” Sweetie blinked. “Two to beam u—?” The next thing Sweetie knew she was engulfed in thousands of tiny swirling particles of blue. She couldn’t see the station anymore—she couldn’t even see herself, or sense anything. However, before she could fully recognize this, the sensation was over and she was standing on top of a soft yellow pad in a medium-sized room. “I thought you guys didn’t have magic?” Sweetie asked, blinking a few times in a vain hope that her eyes would adjust faster. “That was a teleport spell!” “That… was a transporter,” H’roh said. “A machine that takes you from one place to another.” “A teleport spell machine… hmm… not the weirdest thing I’ve seen, it even sort of makes sense.” The only other person in the room was a Starfleet officer in a yellow uniform pressing buttons on a console. “Welcome back, Ensign H’roh. Captain Picard would like to see you in his ready room. Both of you.” H’roh’s eyes widened. “C-captain Picard? Wants to see… me!?” “Hey, looks like you’re lucky you found me!” Sweetie said. “Now he’ll know your name!” “The Captain… knowing my name…” H’roh swallowed hard. “W-well, Picard’s not a man to be kept waiting! Come on, Sweetie!” He led her out of the room and into an… admittedly rather boring looking hallway. The floor was gray carpet, the walls were black and lined with numerous screens, most of which were off, and long white tubes cast soft light over the entire corridor. A few other Starfleet officers were walking to and fro among the areas. H’roh stopped in front of a door that slid open all its own, revealing what was clearly an elevator on the other side. “Bridge,” H’roh called as they stepped in. The doors closed and a soft hum told them they were moving throughout the ship. Sweetie tapped her hoof on the ground. “Soooo…” “What is it?” “If you guys have teleporters—” “Transporters.” “—Yes, transporters. If you have transporters, why are we taking the elevator to the bridge?” “It’s a turbolift.” Sweetie facehooved. “Why would we need to call it something el—nevermind, I’m still more interested in why we aren’t teleporting everywhere.” “I think it’s just because it takes so much less energy?” “That…. sounds reasonable…” Before she could scrutinize it further, they arrived at the bridge. Once again, Sweetie’s eyes lit up. The hallway and the turbolift might have been boring, but this was anything but. This was where the action happened. Numerous chairs were positioned in the center of the wide room, all directed forward at a massive screen that currently displayed the stars outside. The floor itself had glowing blue lights in it for a purpose Sweetie couldn’t identify beyond “looking cool” and there were numerous consoles that lined most of the walls, displaying everything anyone might need to know about the state of the ship. If only Sweetie could read it. The man sitting in the center chair swiveled around, fixing the two visitors with a warm smile. “Welcome to the Bridge.” Sweetie beamed. “Are you Captain Picard?” He shook his head. “Afraid not, I’m Commander Riker, the Captain is waiting for you in his ready room over there.” “Great! Thanks!” Sweetie started trotting over there—but she realized H’roh wasn’t walking with her. She glanced back to see him rooted to the spot, staring out at the Bridge with a mixture of reverence and fear. “Uh… H’roh?” “At ease, Ensign,” Riker said. That snapped H’roh out of it. “O-of course, Commander.” He quickly scrambled after Sweetie. “We shan’t keep the Captain waiting any longer!” As they entered the Captain’s ready room, Sweetie’s ears picked up a comment one of the bridge officers said under her breath. “He looks like he needs a friend to stay calm more than she does…” The door slid shut behind them. To Sweetie’s surprise, there were two chairs set out for them—and one of them was a stool just her size. They had clearly anticipated her problem with normal chairs. She hopped up onto the stool and beamed at the two other men in the room. “Hi! I’m Sweetie Belle!” “And I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard,” the Captain said, fixing her with a stern, but nonetheless friendly gaze. “This here is Lieutenant-Commander Data, who asked to be here in order to observe you.” “You are quite fascinating,” Data said. “Never in all our travels have we come across something quite like you.” Sweetie rubbed the back of her head. “Yeah… that’s great and all, but it means I’m still no closer to finding my home…” “Perhaps not,” Picard said, folding his hands together. “You see, we have…” Picard stopped and glanced up at Ensign H’roh, who was still standing. “Ensign, you may be seated.” “Oh, uh, sorry sir, I was just wai—” H’roh stopped himself mid-word and quickly sat down in the chair provided for him. Picard returned to Sweetie. “Anyway, as I was saying… we have detected numerous unusual events that sent loud pings throughout subspace. One of those events happened here, on Bajor, coinciding with the time and place of your arrival.” Sweetie blinked. “You could sense that?” “It was state of the art technology, but yes, we could. And we also detected several others—yours was just the closest one.” Sweetie’s eyes widened. “I… I think I’m seeing it now. If where I arrived sent out a ping… where I came from probably did as well!” Data nodded. “She is a clever one, Captain.” “Precisely,” Picard said. “However, all the other pings came from unexplored space deep in the Gamma Quadrant.” “Oh…” “And it just so happens that is exactly where we are going next,” Data said. “After we finish gathering all the needed supplies, our mission is to investigate these signals, determine their cause, and explore all that lies between them.” “And you, Miss Belle, are our first lead,” Picard said. Sweetie grinned. “I’ll tell you everything I know—and please, call me Sweetie. Nobody calls me Miss Belle.” Picard’s jaw shifted slightly. “Very well… Sweetie.” For some reason, this prompted an amused smile from Data for a fraction of a second. “So… why don’t you start with how you came to be here?” Sweetie recounted her story once more; what she was doing, the thing she saw, the White that swallowed her, and her time on Bajor. She even discussed meeting with H’roh. “He’s been a great help,” Sweetie said. “He went out of his way to try and help me find a ship that would take me.” “And by befriending you he has been a great help to us as well,” Picard said. “It would have been quite tiresome to try to track you if you had left the station already. You have done well, Ensign.” “Th-thanks, Captain!” H’roh stammered, nerves through the roof, but beaming with pride from the Captain’s praise. “I do have some questions, though,” Picard said, turning back to Sweetie. “About your home.” “What about it? You want to hear about magic? Apparently, you guys don’t have much of it out here.” “Perhaps another time; I am sure you have much to teach us in that regard. I just wish to clarify… your people are not warp capable, are they?” Sweetie frowned. “You mean able to travel the stars? Uh… no.” Picard nodded slowly. “You should be aware that the Federation has a law that we are not to interfere with the affairs of pre-warp societies. This rule of non-interference is so close to our hearts we know it as the Prime Directive. We do this because using our power to change a smaller culture can, and has been, catastrophic. The consequences cannot be predicted, and they are extremely far-reaching.” Sweetie frowned. “Does… that mean…?” “It does not mean we won’t help you find your home. You have already been exposed to our way of life, there is no reason to keep you from it now. And it would simply be cruel to refuse to take you home for fear of you interfering with your own people.” “Not to mention pointless,” Data added. “You are not a citizen of the Federation, you would be free to search for your home in an independent ship.” “The reason I am telling you this is so that you are aware—once we take you home, we will not let you come back.” Sweetie looked at the ground for a moment, processing. “Everything… out here is so wondrous and amazing and beyond my wildest imagination. I have a feeling we’re going to find so much more just trying to find my home. But… I want to see my sister again.” She looked up, eyes damp, but with a big smile. “Space is great and all, but it’s not home. It’s not family.” Picard gave her a warm smile. “Good. In that case, welcome to the Enterprise, Sweetie Belle.” “Thanks for having me.” She lifted her head up high. “Take me home, Captain.” [~~+] A single man in a drab, somewhat worn trenchcoat leaned over a desk, carefully waving a rod-shaped device of some sort, pressing it close to a few shards of broken glass. He knitted his gray brows together as the readings came through, appearing on a screen recessed into the wall. He examined the data, scratching his stubbled chin with a six-fingered hand. “…Fascinating… no residual traces… but…” There was a soft beep at the door, letting him know someone wanted in. “Who is it?” he called, tensing considerably. He started to sweep the glass shards away. “Just T’ora, Doctor Pines.” “Ah.” He immediately stopped trying to clean up. “Come in, then.” The woman who entered wasn’t human, though very few would be able to tell that just from looking at her, for the telltale pointed ears of a Vulcan were hidden behind a dome of rounded white hair. The blue of her eyes almost matched the blue of the Starfleet uniform she wore, with two pips on the collar identifying her as a Lieutenant. “I see you have finally begun the experiments,” T’ora said, glancing at the glass. “Yes. The results are both promising and confounding. There is no danger, but… there is this curious vibration that I can’t quite isolate.” He pressed his finger to the screen, prompting it to display a complex mathematical waveform. “I think the secret lies here… or, well, this is all we can investigate, since going to the signal locations is out of the question.” “We have received word that that is no longer the case.” “Oh?” T’ora nodded. “The Federation has taken an interest in the signals. The Enterprise itself is being dispatched to the sector to investigate.” Dr. Pines’ eyes widened. “R-really?” “I may be a bit more ‘playful’ than my fellow Vulcans, Doctor, but I am not one to mislead without good reason.” At this, Dr. Pines’ face broke out into a grin. “This is great!” He clapped his hands together. “Hah! With the might of the Federation behind this, there’s no way this mystery will go unsolved!” He whirled around and pointed an aggressive finger at the screen. “Just you wait, mysterious vibration, I’m coming for you!” “I take it we should inform the Commander of your wish to join them on their expedition?” “Yes, absolutely, immediately, let’s do that.” He turned and made for the door. “…Perhaps clean up your mess, first.” “Right. Sorry, got excited.” He quickly returned to his desk and started saving all the data and carefully putting the broken glass away. “This excitement seems to be a common trait of yours.” “What can I say?” He chuckled to himself. “I wouldn’t be Stanford Pines if I didn’t jump at every opportunity to satisfy my curiosity.” “I suspect your curiosity will never be satisfied.” “Most likely true, but what does that matter?” He closed the glass away in a little box and dusted off his hands. “It drives me forward, and that’s enough reason to keep listening to it! Now come, we need to prepare… to the Commander!”