On the other side of the mirror...

Posted on Saturday February 22nd, 2020 @ 6:01pm by Lieutenant Commander Freya Mannerheim & Lieutenant Lazarus Kord

1,762 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Shakedown Cruise
Location: USS Poseidon; Deck 7, Sickbay
Timeline: Post-Launch

[BEGIN]

"Oh for crying out loud!" Cursing, Freya limped into sickbay. Once again, her prosthetic leg had decided to freeze up and go stiff. Ever since her arrival on the Poseidon, the issues with it had been getting worse. "Anyone in here?" she shouted, getting slightly impatient, when she noticed the shape of the injured gorn on one of the beds. "Strange," she muttered, "I don't remember us having any gorn on board?"

Finally, a nurse arrived and quickly sorted Freya's prosthetic out. As he packed away his tricorder, the lieutenant could not help but ask. "Hey, nurse. What about that gorn over there? Didn't know we had one as part of the crew?"

The nurse shook his head. "Oh no, he arrived earlier. Some form of transporter accident dumped him straight into the diplomatic office. No idea where he comes from. Not really a talkative type, either, although he seems to be fairly uninjured."

As the nurse walked away, Freya wiggled her once-more functional leg before walking over to the gorn. He was wearing the remains of what appeared to be a uniform, but not one she recognised. She did notice, however, the scars all over his body. Thinking him unconscious, she ran a finger along one of the larger scars on his arm, and a shudder ran down her spine. Could it be?

Lazarus had been dreaming. He had previously been tended to and was now set on extended watch, fearful medical professionals around him whispering worries of lingering transporter side-effects. They had presumed, in hush whispers, that the extent of the range necessary for such an accident had surely misconfigured some part of his body. While they waited for final confirmation, they studied what reports they had of Gorn biology, hopeful that they'd find something amiss. He had drifted off sometime between their hushed arguments on extended transporter theories and chronoton readings, his dreams not very pleasant.

While his physical form remained stoic and still, his mind replayed for him the events of his childhood; his enslavement by Terran's, the beatings, the harsh punishments and lack of mercy. In a particularly vivid episode, he watched as one Terran slid a knife down a particularly deep cut on his body, but the knife felt like a finger...

His eyes shot open, startled as he took in a sharp intake of breath. Lazarus's arm shot over, gripping Freya's, eyes wide in a mixture of fear and surprise. A moment later, he relented, figuring this was a doctor checking him out. He grunted, rather rudely, eyes trailing away and back closed as he got comfortable again.

"Stupid Terrans," he managed, barely a mumble in his reptilian tongue.

Freya pulled her arm away in shock. "Did you just say... Terrans?"

The Gorn grunted, this time showing a bit of teeth. "What do you want now?" he managed, irritation showing. "You've kept me here for hours. Am I not healthy?"

His eyes trailed her face then, noticing her somewhat profound expression. He also noticed the stark similarity of her uniform to those on the Asha. A few dots began to connect, hypothetical situations. Either this was a Terran slave hunter, or a member of the Asha coming to retrieve him. Though, somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt her uniform was slightly off. A small, almost imperceptible warning alarm going off inside his brain that this uniform was much older than he was used to.

"Who are you?" he finally settled on asking, listening to his brain and gut on the presumption. "What do you want with me, Terran?"

Freya shook her head. So the gorn was indeed from her universe, and he was obviously unaware that he was not there any more. "Okay," she said, carefully, and sitting down on the bed next to the gorn's. "This will all come as a bit of a shock for you. My name is Lieutenant Freya Svanirsdottir Mannerheim. I'm the Chief Flight Control Officer of this ship, the USS Poseidon. Or helmsman, to use Imperial terminology. You are in sickbay. What is your name?"

He looked slightly bewildered; out of place and time. The Gorn's expression shifted somewhat as he sat up in bed, on one elbow facing her. His eyes focused on her briefly. She was indeed a Terran, but the rest of these people were not. He saw that now. She also used a different acronym to describe the ship's designation. Not Imperial with an I, but rather something else that began with a U. Universal? Union? United? He didn't know, not yet, but it was starting to sink in with all he had experienced that something was, indeed, not right.

Lazarus gave a grunt in response, sitting up fully. His digigrade legs dangling over the edge of the bed, almost fully touching the floor - a testament to his height. His tail remained comfortably on the bed beside and behind him. He reached up with a few claws to scratch across his snout, the sound of the scratching akin to sandpaper against wood, almost. Overall, as he thought back, he had been taking this entire situation rather well. Maybe it was because he wasn't being beaten, but rather treated considerably better than he was used to.

"Makes sense," he finally managed. "What is this, a rebel ship? I was on one, I think. Captain Mavis Vermillion was her name. Gave me a choice to either join her crew or be thrown back to the slave stocks."

At the memory, he snorted disapprovingly. He never did like Terrans, but Mavis was alright. Sometimes. His eyes focused on Freya.

"I am Lieutenant Lazarus Kord, free'd slave, Engineer by profession," Lazarus said. "Was the Chief Engineer on board the ISS Asha. Something funky happened, I tapped a conduit wrong. I think I died, but, maybe I was transported in an emergency or something. Now I'm here."

Freya nodded. "Lieutenant Kord. Pleasure to meet you." She stood from the bed and walked a few paces to clear her mind. So a freak accident had brought the gorn across universes, not unlike her own passage. She turned back to face him. "This is not a rebel ship, Lieutenant. Whatever happened to you, happened to me a few months ago as well. I was on the ISS Cromwell when it was destroyed in the Badlands, and my escape pod was thrown into an ion storm. And I ended up here."

She paused for a moment, carefully considering her next words. "Lieutenant, you are not in the Empire any more, because the Empire never existed. Somehow, you have crossed into a parallel universe. Welcome to the United Federation of Planets."

So the appropriate acronym was United. Somehow that sent a shiver down his spine and a bad taste in his gut. He grunted in response, thinking on the matter. Ion storm? It was possible. Maybe a freak dosage of electricity done him in, sent him here. It made sense. The possibility, however, of two such similar incidents occurring and the victims of such incidents ending up in the same location were...astronomical to near impossible. His eyes reflected his concentration as they moved from one fixed point to another, not necessarily concentrating either way. They finally returned to looking at Freya.

"The math is probable on the event," he concluded, "but the likelihood of both of us ending up in the same predicament is near impossible. I'm no proponent of physics but, to my engineering mind, something had to trigger my arrival."

He snorted, effectively removing his thought on the matter for the moment. Stretching he viewed his body. It was the same, tattered but the same. He grunted again.

"Whatever the situation, at least I'm not being beaten to near death," he remarked idly.

Freya smirked. "That, indeed, is true. You'll find the Federation a lot less brutal and barbaric than the Empire. They don't call us Terrans here, either. It's 'humans'. I was given a lot of reading material on this universe when I arrived, I'll make sure you get a copy."

She frowned. "You might think this is a silly question. But what's the current stardate?"

Lazarus quickly did the necessary conversions in his head. It was roughly April 22nd, 2410, so that would make it...

"Stardate 87305.99, right?" he asked, more to himself than Freya.

"Ah." Freya paused for a moment, not sure how to reply. "Lieutenant, I think whatever took you here also displaced you in time." She shook her head. "Computer, Stardate."

"The current stardate is 70641.83"

She looked at the gorn. "And before you say anything, no. They use the same stardate system here. In the old Terran calendar, it's August 23rd, 2393. By my calculation, you have travelled seventeen years into the past."

The Gorn's eyes widened in disbelief, blinking as he looked down to his open palm, then back around him. For a moment he seemed out of place, his mind detached as he tried to make sense of the overwhelming feeling of loss he had felt - for whatever reason or another. It wasn't the typical sense of loss, it was more akin to knowing that everything you knew was gone; mostly gone, anyway. His breathing quickened briefly, before settling, the medical beds pulses rising and falling accordingly. He clenched his fingers together, claws scraping as he tried to hold on to reality - successfully.

With the overwhelming feeling of detachment flowed over him, there was another sense.

"So, I'm free?" he asked, hope in his voice. "No more Empire, ever?"

Freya could not help but laugh. "Yes, Lieutenant. No Empire. Not in this universe, anyway. It never existed." Suddenly, she nodded, determination in her face. "Look, I need to get to my shift on the bridge. Get some rest, Lieutenant. I will come see you once I'm off-duty, and introduce you more to this new universe."

Lazarus nodded slowly, eyeing Freya carefully, but with more consideration in his gaze now. "Alright," he said. "Thanks for helping me clear my mind up."

In that moment, there was a smile. It was a rare thing for a Gorn to show expression, even have the ability for it. However, it was there, briefly, before he gave a snort - albiet softer than before - and stretched before rolling back onto the bed for a nap.

[END]

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Lazarus Kord
Unaffiliated
USS Poseidon

&

Lieutenant Freya S. Mannerheim
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Poseidon

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