Historian’s Note: The following takes place in 2378, just after the return of the U.S.S. Voyager from the Delta Quadrant.

* * *

1

Captain’s Log, Stardate 55091.6. The Horizon has docked with Starbase 129 to drop off supplies and repair specialized ship systems that were damaged during our encounters at Gour II. We have been ordered by Admiral Jellico to take on two passengers who are apparently with Starfleet Intelligence, though the admiral has refused to send me their personnel files, or tell me anything further about our mission. Despite Jellico’s distinguished record of serving the Federation in good faith, if not in good humor, I find myself ill-at-ease with this situation.

Captain Sheppard and Commander Turner stood in the transporter room as the two figures began to appear. As the whine of the transporter faded and the energy patterns faded, in their place stood a pair of individuals dressed in black civilian clothing. The first was female, Bajoran, with hair that was styled into a bob. Like many Bajorans he had met, her youthful face seemed to tell a tale of weariness and experience that went beyond her years.

The other was a Human man, much older than the woman—Sheppard estimated him to be in his mid to late fifties. His head was shaved bald and he had piercing blue eyes, a square jawline, and eyebrows that bore a bit of an exaggerated arch. Despite his strong countenance, the rest of his physique seemed average. There was something about him that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place the man… the mark of an effective intelligence operative.

“Permission to come aboard, captain?” asked the older of the two in what sounded like a mild Midwestern accent from the United States.

“Permission granted,” Sheppard replied, then proceeded to standard introductions. “I’m Captain Sean Sheppard, and this is my First Officer, Commander Kevia Turner.” Despite their civilian clothing, he had definitely been a part of Starfleet at some point, if he wasn’t currently. People who had never served aboard a vessel never bothered requesting permission to board. In fact, most low-ranking individuals currently serving also didn’t bother requesting permission either. The fact that this individual who wasn’t in uniform and was requesting it implied a power play that made Sheppard immediately uncomfortable.

“I am Erik Pressman and this is Ro Laren.” Again, there was something about both of their names that rang familiar with Sheppard, but he couldn’t place from where.

“Mister Pressman, do you mind if I ask the nature of your mission aboard this ship?” Sheppard asked.

Pressman gave him a disarming smile. “Unfortunately I’m not at liberty to share our mission with you. Admiral Jellico will be sending you a new flight path, which you will be ordered not to deviate from. We will leave the ship aboard a stealth probe that will deliver us to our destination, and then the Horizon will rendezvous with us after we have completed our mission.”

Sheppard nodded. This wasn’t the first time a ship he’d been assigned to was ordered to some top-secret mission that Starfleet didn’t want to divulge to its crew. On those previous occasions, he hadn’t been in a position to investigate without drawing the ire of his Captain. Now he was. If these two were going to jeopardize his ship and his crew, or if they were about to do something that went against Federation principles, he was going to find out. In the meantime, there was nothing to be gained by putting their new guests on the defensive. Sheppard gave the most genuine smile he could muster and said, “Well, we will endeavor to make you as comfortable as possible during your time on this ship.”

“We aren’t concerned with our comfort,” Ro said. “We promise to be inconspicuous guests and we won’t require special treatment from your crew.”

“Understood,” Sheppard said, again feeling slighted somehow. “Commander Turner, would you be so kind as to show our guests to their quarters?”

“Of course, sir. Follow me,” she said, extending her hand toward the door.

Their guests began to follow when Pressman turned to face Sheppard. “Captain, I apologize for all the secrecy surrounding this mission. I’d like to reassure you that this mission will not put the Horizon in any undue danger.”

“That’s assuming everything goes according to plan,” Turner replied as she walked through the door, not waiting for either of them.

As Sheppard watched them walk down the hallway away from him, he heaved a sigh of relief. No, he thought, there is definitely something about those two I don’t trust. He walked down the corridor, took a left, and proceeded to a different turbolift than the others had just taken. The doors parted and he stepped inside and said, “Bridge.”

A few moments later the lift doors parted and Sheppard was greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of the Horizon’s command center. Starbase 129 remained on the main viewscreen.

“Mister Nod, I’m assuming everyone is back aboard and we can get on our way?”

“Yes sir,” Ipesh Nod said from his station. “The ship is reading the presence of every comm badge that’s supposed to be aboard.”

“Ensign Beach,” Sheppard said to the young woman with blond hair at the Conn, who was filling in for Hernandez, their usual first shift Conn officer. “I’m venturing a guess that Starfleet has sent along a flight plan for us?”

“Yes sir,” she said.

“Lieutenant Commander Tavika, signal to Starbase 129 that we’re ready to take our leave.”

“Aye sir,” said the Romulan Tactical officer.

“Let’s get underway.”

“Aye sir,” Beach said. Sheppard felt a subtle shift in the deck plates as the inertial dampeners kicked in, and he watched as the space station on screen rapidly grew smaller.

Sheppard walked over to Nods station. “Mister Nod, could you pull up any Starfleet records on a couple of individuals?”

“Of course,” said the Bajoran chief of security.

“Look up Erik Pressman and Ro Laren.”

Nod ran a search on his console, coming up with a pair of reports a few seconds later. “Both have Starfleet personnel files, and they’re restricted to Level Eleven security clearance.”

“And of course nobody assigned to the ship has Level Eleven access,” Sheppard commented. “How convenient.”

Just then Sheppard heard the hiss of the turbolift doors opening. He looked over his shoulder to see Turner enter the bridge. “Commander, that was fast. Didn’t you offer our guests the access codes to the replicator, or a complimentary mint?”

“They dismissed me once they got to their rooms,” Turner replied, visibly irritated. “Who do they think they are, ordering me around on my ship?”

“Do you want me to go ask them?” Nod asked.

“No,” Turner replied. “If we’re anything other than accommodating, they’ll probably lodge a complaint with Starfleet.”

Sheppard pointed to the screen in front of Nod. “Turner, it looks like Starfleet doesn’t want us to know anything about them at all.”

“So we’re just supposed to assume everything is on the up-and-up, and do everything we’re told. Haven’t the top brass learned that starships don’t work that way?” Turner asked heatedly. “The thing is, I swear I’ve seen him before somewhere. I just can’t place him.”

“Same here,” Sheppard said. “And I don’t like it either. If this guy is this memorable, Starfleet Intelligence probably missed something when they were classifying his records. Ch’qahrok and Nod, why don’t you two work together and see if you can turn something up.”

“Yes sir,” said Nod.

“I’ll see what I can do, sir,” Ch’qahrok said. “I think our best avenue of inquiry would be to start by running his face through the recognition systems… assuming they didn’t manage to find every instance his image was captured and classify those as well.”

“Good. Just… don’t break any Starfleet protocols while you’re doing it. I don’t want to get court martialed over this.”

“Understood,” Ch’qahrok replied. “Although, you should know by now, sir, that I don’t need the warning.”

“Of course,” Sheppard replied. In truth, he wasn’t so sure of that. Beneath the Andorian’s uncharacteristically stoic demeanor, there was a talented officer who would attack a problem, often obsessively, until he came up with something they could work with. Aside from the Andorian, he could feel the anxiousness coming from Nod. If anyone could unearth some information, it would be those two.

* * *

Antonio Hernandez entered the shuttle bay and proceeded to the runabout, Arizona. The hatch was open, so he assumed Chief Engineer Cunha was already aboard. He bounded up the steps, entered the interior, and saw the slight woman laying on the floor, her upper torso fully underneath the ship’s control consoles. “Lieutenant Hernandez, reporting as ordered.”

Cunha pulled wiggled out of her spot, and looked up to the Horizon’s top Conn officer. “Oh good, you’re here. Did the captain brief you on our mission?”

“Not exactly,” Hernandez said. “Commander Turner caught me detouring to the holodeck for a round of Perrises Squares while I was supposed to be on duty. She made it clear I was in a bit of trouble for neglecting my duties, so she assigned me to you for the duration of your current project.”

Cunha looked at Hernandez quizzically. “We were docked at a starbase at the time, weren’t we? What exactly were you supposed to be doing? Watching the ship not going anywhere?”

“That was my argument,” Hernandez said.

Cunha laughed. “I think Turner was having some fun with you. I asked for you specifically for this project.”

“And what is this project?” Hernandez asked, feeling a wave of relief that this probably meant that a reprimand wasn’t going to appear on his record.

Cunha stood up and straightened her uniform. “When Voyager returned from the Delta Quadrant, they brought with them a new navigational system that calculated a ship’s location based on its relation to the galactic core. This was necessary due to the inability of the ship’s sensors to calculate their position the old fashioned way, which was based on the relative location of commonly known stars. This was a field-development and it was tied to numerous systems that were unique to the Intrepid-class starship. Starfleet wanted the technology adapted for more widespread implementation, possibly due to their research into slipstream technology, so I’ve been working on that ever since we left the Gour system. The prototype is ready and you have the privilege of helping test it.”

“So you want me to fly the runabout?”

“Yes,” said Cunha. “I also picked you because in addition to being an excellent pilot, it looks like you started off in engineering, which will be useful in the event that we end up needing to enact repairs along the way.”

“That makes sense,” Hernandez said. “Besides, I really don’t get to spend enough time on runabouts anyway.”

Cunha frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Sorry,” Hernandez said. “It’s a class of small ship I admire. It’s not small and cramped like most shuttles, and it’s equipped for long-range missions and extended stays on planets. It’s basically a recreational vehicle for space.”

Cunha nodded, “I can see how you could think that, but this isn’t that kind of mission. We’re simply going to go out five light years then see if we’re supposed to be. If it is then that will be great. If not, I’ll need to go back and make some further modifications.”

“I didn’t think it was, and I’ll help in any way I can,” Hernandez said. “Still, wouldn’t you like to find some sparsely populated Class-M and take one of these camping in the wilderness by yourself?”

“Camping?” Cunha asked. “You mean roughing it? Intentionally traveling away from civilization in a quixotic attempt to get back to nature?”

“Well yeah, something like that,” Hernandez said.

“I’ve never had time or inclination to leave my duties behind so I can go hug a tree,” Cunha said. “On the rare instances where I felt the need to observe nature, I’ve found the holodecks more than sufficient for such activities.”

Hernandez paused for a moment. Cunha outranked him, and disagreeing with her could invite a miserable trip. On the other hand, he didn’t want to self-censor himself into not pointing out the obvious to her. “You do know that the holodeck is just a simulation, and there are a number of ways it’s rendering of nature fails to accurately emulate true nature, right?”

“I understand that,” Cunha said. “But that fails to bother me. At least on the holodeck, I can program it not to include some of the more unpleasant things about camping, such as rain storms, stinging insects, and waking up with unwelcome creatures nestled in your nether regions.”

“I’ve never had that happen,” Hernandez protested.

“Has it ever rained on you?” Cunha asked.

“Well, yeah…”

“And have you never been stung?”

“I once had to get beamed to Starfleet Medical because of a sting from a Rhino-Persattabee sting, but I wasn’t camping at the time.”

“And have you never woken up with a strange animal sharing your sleeping bag?”

Hernandez was about to say no, but then he remembered that time he woke up with a small and very deadly scorpion clinging to his armpit. “Now that you mention it…”

“And that’s why I prefer the safety of the holodeck to experiencing nature authentically. It’s more comfortable and much less likely to result in the premature termination of my life.”

“Well, that’s your prerogative,” Hernandez said, “But it’s some of those same things that create treasured memories with friends and family.”

“Oh, I understand,” Cunha said. “It’s a traditional custom in your family to go camping as a means of interpersonal bonding. I was raised by my mother, who is also an engineer, so we mostly bonded over solving engineering challenges together.”

“So you’ve never actually gone camping?” Hernandez asked.

“No,” Cunha replied.

“Haven’t you at least been sent on a mission in a camping-like situation?” Hernandez asked. “Maybe sent to the surface of a world in a primitive area where you had to help set up scientific equipment, or spying on Romulans in the middle of some primeval forest?”

“No,” Cunha said. “I was assigned to Utopia Planetia immediately after I graduated from Starfleet Academy. I didn’t take on active duty until recently, after I finished contributing to the design of the Luna Class starship.”

“I see,” said Hernandez.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Cunha said, “How long have you been stationed aboard a starship?”

“Five years. Just in time for active duty during the Dominion War,” Hernandez said. “I can’t tell you how many mud holes I had to call home for the night while we were fending off the Jem’Hadar.”

“And yet you still long to return to such mud holes?”

“I prefer the memories of the good times spent in those mud holes to those of my friends dying violent, painful deaths…” He trailed off, no longer interested in continuing the discussion. “Lieutenant, are we ready to launch?”

“I checked the navigation system and it’s installed per my specifications. I’ve also plotted a course that should take us out of the way of every charted celestial body. I’d say we’re ready to launch.”

Hernandez took a seat in front of the main flight console, reminded again of just how comfortable they made runabouts. They weren’t anything like the fast and sleek, yet small and utilitarian class 2 shuttles he’d piloted.

Cunha tapped her comm badge. “Lieutenant Cunha to Captain Sheppard.”

“Sheppard here,” came the immediate reply.

“The Arizona is ready to depart the Horizon. Permission to leave the ship?”

“Permission granted,” came the response. “Best of luck out there, Fly safe.”

“Aye sir,” Cunha replied.

Hernandez watched out the viewport as the shuttlebay lights dimmed and a pair of red lights began flashing to either side of the main doors. A moment later, the doors parted in the center and slid to the side, revealing the black of space. He waited until the doors were fully retracted, then began the takeoff sequence. The ship gently lifted off the main deck, then he piloted it through the doors, passing through the atmosphere containment field as they passed into the vacuum of space.

He looked over to Cunha. “Here we go.”

The chief engineer gave him a thin smile. “This is actually my first time in a runabout,” Cunha offered.

“I’ll try not to give you too many bumps,” Hernandez said. He engaged the pre-planned course, then said, “Accelerating to warp three-point-five.”

Suddenly the stars streaked before them as the ship left relativistic space and entered warp.