Congrats Dana! Wishing you all the best. :)

Congrats Dana! Adding some spice 

Congrats!

Congratulations!!!

Congratulations!! 

We're excited to announce that Dana will be stepping into the role of Community Morale Officer, where he’ll be focusing on increasing community engagement, planning and hosting fun events, and encouraging participation throughout SGN. This role is all about fostering a strong, positive community atmosphere, and we couldn’t think of a better person for the job.
 
We’re thrilled to have Dana on board with the officer team, and we can't wait to see the amazing ideas and events he’ll bring to life to keep SGN active and engaged. Be sure to congratulate him when you see him around!
 
Here's to Dana and the exciting things ahead for SGN! 🙌

I had to submit mine directly I hope that is acceptable. :D

Well, this isn't my submission post, but I am about a third of the way through my story, and it's already the longest I've written, so that should be fun, I hope. 

This September marks the thirtieth anniversary of the premier of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

If that makes you feel old, come feel young, like when the world was new - with these limited edition 40"x37" pair of posters, commissioned with artist Dusty Abell for Roddenberry.com

The leaves are blowing and the trees are bare. Halloween is approaching and it's time for Stonewall's 2nd #WritingChallenge of 2024!  Submit your spooky themed entry by logging into this site and posting your story in this thread between now and end of day on October 31st, 2024.

Theme Instructions:
We're encouraging everyone to share with us a story of any of your in-game characters that incorporates a spooky theme.  There's broad latitude with the theme, which is just meant to guide you and not to limit you in any way.  To help get the creative juices flowing, I've provided some possible writing prompts, though you're free to write your story without the help of the prompts:

• Write about discovering a dead Captain's log that causes strange, supernatural events to unfold on your ship
• Write about discovering a ship that feeds on fear of its passengers and crew
• Write about a member of your crew creating a Halloween themed holodeck program that turns into a deadly nightmare
• Write about your crew finding itself in the Mirror Universe on Halloween, where the Empire is celebrating the darkest aspects of their culture
• Write about a transporter malfunction that duplicates you or a crew member, but this version is twisted and malevolent
• Write about your Klingon crew telling ghost stories about vengeful spirits and ancient battles that start to become reality
• Write about being hit by an anomaly that reanimates a group of Romulan prisoners held in stasis, who are transformed into zombie-like beings

We'll share every submission with the entire community for them to enjoy, but we'll also be looking for our three favorite entries that excel in three criteria that we'll detail below.  We're so very eager for you, SGN's amazing writing talents, to once again share your talent and creativity with us and your community!


To participate in Stonewall's Halloween writing challenge, you must post your entry here, in this thread, before day's end on October 31st, 2024.  Please title your entry!  Your posted entry must comply with these additional rules to be eligible:

1. Your story must in some way relate to your character from any game you play
2. Your may use AI to help generate a writing prompt for yourself, BUT your story must be entirely your original work
3. DO NOT USE ChatGPT or AI to write any or portions of your story for you!
4. The content of your story must not be edited after the submission deadline of October 31st

Only one entry per community member, please.  While we encourage you to include graphics to supplement your Ensnared story, only the written narrative portion of your entry will be judged.  Instructions on how to incorporate graphics in your post can be found by clicking here.


Every writer will receive a deposit of 3 Stonewall Credits into their account, but our favorite contest entries will be recognized on our Facebook, Twitter and Instagram social media feeds. The prize packs are as follows:

Our favorite story will get:

1. 10 Stonewall Credits, AND, your choice of either:
2. 20 Master Keys in Star Trek Online, OR
3. $25.00 Redbubble Gift Card to purchase Stonewall Merchandise!

Our second favorite entry will receive:

1. 8 Stonewall Credits, AND your choice of either:
2. 10 Master Keys in Star Trek Online OR
3. $20.00 Redbubble Gift Card to purchase Stonewall Merchandise!

Our third favorite entry will get:

1. 6 Stonewall Credits!
2. 7 Master Keys in Star Trek Online

*Stonewall credits can be saved and/or redeemed for in-game merchandise through the Stonewall Credits Store.

Good luck to everyone!  We can't wait to read your stories!

The books were always a fun read. I’m wondering if anyone else read this series?

Amidst the constantly growing streaming service market, one platform—Кинoкрадко—has come to light as a shining example of diversity and creativity. With its huge selection of entertaining material and easy-to-use design, this massive Russian streaming service has won over hearts of viewers all over the world. Let's explore what makes Кинокрадко unique and why both casual viewers and movie buffs are starting to choose it.

Thanks to everyone who contributed to our "Ensnared" writing challenge!  We loved reading all of the entries and invite you to check out the compilation of all of the submitted stories at the link below.  We'd also like to share our favorite stories with you and will reach out to the authors of those submissions to arrange delivery of prizes!  Everyone who participated will receive Stonewall Credits within a day of this post.  To spend them, login to this site with your account, click the drop down menu next to your profile picture on the menu bar and select 'wallet'.  

Just a quick update to let everyone know that I got a little behind because of some significant work developments this last week, but will post results by the end of the week of May 13th.  Sorry for the delay!

When Steve came to, his mind was full of fog. All he could remember was seeing Renato head for the gate. He’d hoped Renato had escaped and then suddenly he recalled the searing pain of the hook going through his chest. Just the memory brought him to his knees. “How am I still alive?” he wondered. He looked around to gather his bearings. The area didn’t look familiar, but he could see the generators he’d worked on before, and not too far off there was another exit gate. Maybe he just needed to get out through there and he’d finally be free.

Something within compelled him to work on the generator; he didn’t know what was wrong with it, but he began fixing the wires and tightening the bolts with his bare hands. Before long, the engine started to turn. There was something comforting about the engine slowly coming to life. When it was completed he heard a horn go off from the nearby gate and he dashed to it. He held down the lever, opening the gate and escaping as quickly as he could.

---

Steve felt lightheaded as his surroundings slowly faded from black. He looked around and yet again he was in an unfamiliar location. This appeared to be a very dilapidated school filled with nightmarish cages and chains. He slowly and carefully searched the building trying to figure out what was happening. 

In the far-off distance, he could see Renato! He was still alive and there with him. Yet again, Renato was in danger and Steve knew it was his duty to save him. A killer wearing some kind of mask was chasing Renato with a kitchen knife and it didn’t look like Renato had many options left. With a quick swipe, Renato fell to the ground and as the Killer picked him up, Steve dashed into place, shining the flashlight right into his eyes, but this time nothing happened. Somehow, Steve felt revealed.

The killer effortlessly hung Renato on the hook and quickly headed for Steve. Steve tried to hide around a corner, but the killer quickly found him. For just a second, he looked at Steve with a deep stare and then lunged for him. Steve didn’t have time to react. The killer plunged his knife into Steve’s chest, lifting him from the ground and dropping him back down.

---

Yet again, Steve came to. He could still feel the burning hot wound where the killer had plunged his knife into his chest, but after checking there were no marks or scars. Like it’d never happened, but the pain was still fresh in his mind. He stood in what was a movie theater at one point but now had a massive hole in the wall. The arcade machines definitely looked familiar, but couldn’t place it anywhere near Hawkins. Upstairs, the generator called to him and he began working on it. 

Once completed, he headed outside and down the stairs on the side of the building. Not too far off, he could see Renato being chased by a crazy woman throwing hatches at him. He ducked down low and watched the chase. He could see in the not-far-off distance someone working on another gate. As Renato dropped a pallet to block the killer’s path, she quickly threw a hatchet and Renato dropped to the ground. Once hooked, the killer headed to the gate and Steve made his move. He pulled Renato off the hook, grabbed his hand, and led him behind a bush. 

“Thank you”, Renato said as he wrapped his arms around Steve, giving him a tight hug. “I thought you were dead. I’m so glad to see you’re okay.”

“Thanks. I’m glad to see you too. Neither of us will be okay if we don’t get out that gate.”

He finished banding Renato up and again led him to the gate. Hand in hand, Steve and Renato slip-passed the killer. Glancing back, Steve saw the killer aiming her hatchet straight for Renato, who was about to make it out. Steve knew what he had to do and quickly blocked for Renato, taking the hatchet instead. He was downed instantly and tried to crawl out, but the killer grabbed him by the ankle, dragged him back in and buried a hatchet into his head.

---

As the lights faded in, Steve looked around and he knew this place. He’d been here before with Eleven and the rest of his friends. They barely escaped last time. The demodogs had taken over last time, but there were none in sight now. Scattered around, he could see the all too familiar generators. He knew those weren’t there last time. He began working on the generators, not knowing what was in store for him this time. Somehow, he knew Renato was out there and he longed to see him again. After completing a couple generators, Steve ventured farther out into the map.

Renato was on a gate lever while a killer chased a couple other survivors nearby. Steve began heading to the gate as he saw Renato open the door and the killer took notice. He dropped the chase with the other survivors and headed straight for Steve. He tried to dodge and weave away from the killer, but he had nothing to work with. After a couple quick swipes, he was down on the ground and shortly hoisted onto a hook. Luckily, he was near the gate and Renato was close by. Steve called out for Renato to save him; save him just as Steve had saved Renato so many times. Renato took a few steps towards him, he attempted to sum up the courage to save him, but succumbed to his fears as he heard the killer approaching. Staring back at Steve, he struggled on the hook, Renato slipped out the gate and left Steve there to die.

---

As Steve came to, his heart sank. That was Renato’s chance to save him, to repay all the times he’d risked his life for Renato, but instead, he just left him to die. Renato could’ve gotten Steve; there had been enough time. He felt almost foolish for risking so much for Renato.

Steve looked around and didn’t know where he was. A farmhouse in the distance beckoned him. Yet again he was trapped in this eternal nightmare from what seemed like there was no escape. Not even death set him free. He began to wander around, looking for other signs of life. He made it to the farmhouse and, yet again, found Renato.

“You left me!” Steve said, almost shouting. “You could’ve saved me and you left me.”

“I’m so sorry. I wanted to, but I was so scared! That insane man the cleaver was coming.” Renato said as he backed away from Steve.

“I thought you cared about me.” Steve pushes toward Renato, forcing him into a corner.

“I do care about you. I care about you very much, Steve.” Renato said, as he leaned forward and kissed Steve deeply.

The anger boiled inside of Steve, after everything he’d done Renato abandoned him. Steve wanted to recoil from his kiss, but feeling Renato’s body against him excited him like nothing before. He pulled back and looked at Renato’s shirtless body in his tight board shorts, Steve felt a deep attraction that even his anger couldn’t ignore.

He pushed Renato to the ground and [REDACTED].

The two of them quietly get dressed and head out, trying to escape from this enduring trap, together.

Thank you to everyone who entered our Ensnared writing challenge!  Entries are now closed and we'll be enjoying your submissions over the next week and will post results of our writing challenge on or around May 10th!

Gladiator comes out of his quarters and is met by his Gorn boyfriend Ambassador Dirilth. They walked to the bridge catching up and even ran into the Romulan Ambassador Porama outside of the bridge. He gave them some coffee and then Gladiator went into the bridge leaving Ambassador Dirilth to talk about adding a Klingon or Romulan ship to the Mobile Starbase Group. The bridge was teeming with officers of all kinds and all species. The work they were doing was amazing and these long missions never seem to get old except someone was missing.
''Commander Vinbok where is Commander Iggst at?" Gladiator said as he sat at the Temporal OPS console.
"He's sick sir, something to do with his more alien physiology and Doctor Bashir says he can't leave sick bay" Said the commander back as he worked on the weapons console.
"I'll take over today since our other Operative is with the on the other ships." Gladiator replied as he moved the console to the captain's chair and as he did he noticed a strange flux in the Molecular Reconstruction console and other Temporal mechanisms.
Gladiator ran a Level 1 diagnostic test on the Temporal systems and found nothing. It was time to eat so he made his way to the massive mess hall and replicated some of the best ramen you can find in the galaxy . He ate and watched the colonists as they ate and mingled with everyone. Gladiator loved eating in the non-military mess halls because he wanted to get to know the people he was protecting on his ship and the seemed to like it also. Some officers even joined in as long as no work was conducted. Gladiator today was met with a couple of families who were human colonists going to the new planet. Gladiator welcomed the company but something made his Vulcan ears twitch about them; especially one of the children who was acting strange and not in a worrying way just yet.
Gladiator's break was done and he excused himself back to work; once there the helmsmen updated him that they'll be there in a day and Gladiator went back to his captain's chair and ran another Level 1 diagnostic and found nothing wrong but something about everything around him felt off. He sat back and tested every other system while still doing his captain duties. Commander Iggst was feeling better and allowed to take over. Gladiator was relieved by one of his commanders and met Ambassador Dirilth who was waiting in front of the massive windows.
Gladiator and the ambassador went to the Pike Restaurant which is a nice place that serves food that Captain Pike made for his crew and himself. They sat and ordered their food; they talked about their days while eating their delicious entrees. As Dirilth was talking he mentioned that he saw what he thought was multiple copies of the colonists that he was working with as they congregated in the shuttle bays, and he mentioned another weird occurrence.

"I was walking around observing the progress to make sure everything was in order for recolonization and as I did I felt a burning on my chest. So I went to the bathroom to check my chest and found a red scar but almost as soon as I saw it the scar disappeared. Once I got back it got stranger but I think it might be my imagination." Dirilth said, rubbing his head.
Gladiator tilted his head sensing something was deeply bothering him. "What is it hun?" Gladiator probed.
Dirilth leaned forward and said "I-I think I saw people twisted up and ripped apart and the shuttle being repaired by someone or something and going to warp. I still think it was my imagination because I closed my eyes and everything was fine, but it has me anxious nonetheless.
Gladiator could tell he didn't want to talk about it anymore and decided the perfect thing to do was to take his mind off of what happened. Gladiator slipped out of his and ran his foot up the Gorn's massive legs and thighs and rubbed his crotch teasing him. Gladiator grinned as he saw him relax and moan softly; he pulled away as the check came. They verified their credentials and Gladiator released his boot and left for his quarters. As soon as they got in they started making out, Gladiator stripped  off  Dirilth's clothes and then his own. Gladiator threw Dirilth onto the bed and licked down his scaly,muscular body and rubbed down as he shivered. Gladiator reached for his shafts and rubbed teasing and Gladiator could tell his claws were spreading from the tease; and as he was about to go in for a lick the room went red.

RED ALERT!
CAPTAIN TO THE BRIDGE!  

Gladiator and Dirilth got up, got dressed and ran as fast as they could to the bridge. They got to the bridge and found every system going haywire, and in that moment the temporal systems spiked causing a shift in time. The ship seemed to shift forward and then backwards in time and at the same time several officers were caught and their whole bodies were twisted in grotesque ways by temporal push and pull. The shift happened again and the rest of the crew was twisted and ripped apart and this time the ship started crumbling and as Dirilth and Gladiator looked at each other; a metal sheet spun out and sliced Dirilth in the chest. Gladiator fell to the floor and saw the broken shuttle outside the view window and the ones flying it were the two families, and as they warped out the ship shifted again and Gladiator was burned as the Graviton Lance imploded and things froze...
Captain's Log: The USS Stonewall Universe mobile starbase group has separated from the contingent of ships assigned to it, and has been given the mission to finish relocating colonists. We stopped after a distress signal came from a planet that was under a catastrophic plague and required assistance. The USS Trixie Matel was put in charge of helping cure the afflicted using its superior medical… Pause log.

Gladiator stopped his log and looked around his cabin feeling uncertain and just when a thudded hit against his door. Gladiator got up going to his door and as he did Iggst, the Elachi Temporal officer fell in and Dirilth came in after him. 
He huffed and shaked a little. “C-captain something’s wrong, we’ve been here before.” He said as he stood up and sat in a chair. Ambassador Dirilth started to examine him, noticing how sick he looked. Gladiator looked at him curiously. “I’ve started to notice and have a strange feeling. Those colonists keep coming to mind for some reason. Ambassador, can you take Iggst to the Med Bay and meet me in the cargo bay when you are done? I wanna check out those colonists.” Gladiator asked as he got his gear together. 
“I’ll be there.” Dirilth said as he picked up the sick Elachi and carried him out.

Gladiator had security teams sent to all the major systems and the cargo bay to search and probe everyone and everything. Gladiator got to the cargo bay and started stealthily scanning all the colonists. Out of the corner of his eye he could see someone that gave him the chills so he made his way there and at that time one of his security leads called him on his com badge. “Captain, it’s the Na'kuhl '' he said. At that moment the colonist he was going towards had revealed herself and ran out of the cargo bay. Gladiator chased him into engineering and just as Gladiator came he blew up the temporal mechanisms causing time fluctuations; and just in the nick of time Iggst came in and vaporized the Na’kuhl infiltrator and then quickly reversed the damage to stop the disaster. Iggst fell to the floor next to Gladiator panting and exhausted. Dirilth came in and said. “They got the rest of them Captain and the Doc says Commander Iggst is in trouble for leaving” 

They laughed getting up and beamed to the conference room where they ordered the other higher ups to come for a debriefing.
“So what exactly happened here, Iggst?” Gladiator asked drinking some Romulan ale
“They have been trying to start a war or something but I think they were independent in their thinking. They seemed to have failed in their sabotage many times.” Iggst told them.
Ambassador Dirilth chimed in. “Many times? Are you saying we did this before?”
Iggst nodded. “I checked the chronometer and we’ve been ensnared for 30 days. I’m sure my sickness was connected to the loop. My connection to the mycelial network helped work though it.”
Gladiator asked as he sat up a little. “Do you think we are still in the loop?”
“No, I was able to reverse easily, that's why I think it was an independent attack.” Iggst answered as he did another engineering check.
After that an Ensign called in. “Sir USS TRIXIE MATTEL is hailing us.”
“Put it through please.” Gladiator ordered.
“Where have you been Captain?” Marshal Janeway yelled as she popped up in the conference room.
“Come with me and we’ll talk over dinner.” Gladiator giggled and stood up heading for the door.
“Good job everyone, especially you Iggst.”
  

The End

Author’s Note: This story explores gender and sexuality themes. In telling this story, I have labored to abide by the community’s standards for good taste. This standard is subjective, and people differ in their journey on these issues. If you are too young to understand these issues or reading about sensitive topics or suggestive situations disturbs you, please do not read this story.



“I’m Chief Medical Officer of this starship, and this is a medical emergency! Beam Ensign Taleda to the medbay immediately!” I glowered at the Captain of the USS Stonewall.

Jake faced me with the steady gaze of a Starfleet Captain that I adored–except when I defied him. He raised his palms. “I’m sorry, Teslus. I can’t allow that.”

“Consider yourself overruled, CAPTAIN.” I put my fists on my hips and raised my chin.

Jake winced. “The order isn’t mine, Tes–”

“DOCTOR TESLUS ELBRUN!” I said.

“Admiral Yesper ordered us to let the Meklia treat Ensign Taleda.”

Jake’s words knocked me back. “What? They’re . . . they’re . . . circuits and electricity. What do they know of human physiology? Nothing!” I threw my hands in the air and let them fall to my sides with a slap. “Ensign Taleda sacrificed themself to shield Ambassador Toorok. They deserve . . . Ugh! Words are so limiting! So help me, Jake, if you had just a scintilla of psionic ability, I’d give you a piece of my mind!” I turned away from Jake and pounded the medbay console, which set off an alarm that I smacked off.

Jake’s voice softened. “I’m not happy about this either, but Admiral Yesper has a point. Treaty negotiations with the Meklia are in a fragile state. They’re mortified by the attack and want to make it right.”

“Admiral Yesper trades lives for political favors.” I crossed my arms and huffed. “The Meklia failed to protect their capital from an attack by one of their own. How can we trust them to save Ensign Taleda?”

Jake scanned the medbay to ensure we were still alone. He approached and wrapped his arms around me. “I know you care; I love that about you. You said the Meklia have stabilized them. The best thing we can do for Ensign Taleda now is send their medical records and any other information that will assist the Meklia in treating them.”

“This isn’t over,” I turned in Jake’s arms. My body shifted toward his embrace. I tried to pound Jake’s chest, but the stress of the last few hours had drained me to the point that my fists collapsed into a plea. I spread my palms on Jake’s regulation compliant chest. Fifty push ups everyday along with all the other exercises mandated by Starfleet regulations. I softened more. Though he wielded the piercing gaze, sculpted jaw, and commanding presence of a Starfleet captain, Jake Beck wasn’t one of the maverick miracle-worker captains extolled in Risian ballads. He was the get-it-done-by-the-book type that Starfleet depended upon but no one noticed. His swagger was fake; his protocol obsession genuine. Jake’s steadfastness anchored me against the chaos that would sweep me away. That the same protocols Jake used to protect me now blocked me was infuriating. I collapsed into his embrace. “And you can’t fix things just by hugging me.” You know he knows it works.

“Right, I get it. I’m sorry; I’m still trying to adapt to your Betazoid powers,” said Jake.

And I’m still trying to resist yours. “It’s one of your most endearing qualities, really. You have no mental barriers at all–like an infant.” For the first time since the distress call, I smiled. After a moment the feeble curve in my lips faded. Wait. I scowled. “Seriously? You’re thinking about sex now?” I pushed him away. “Get out. I have work to do.”



“Captain, I’ve completed my preliminary examination of Ensign Taleda. I have something to show you.” I released my comm button and looked over my shoulder at the ensign. They rested under light sedation in the biobed.

Jake strode into the medbay. “What have you found?”

“Well, the Meklia saved Taleda’s life, but . . .” I expanded a scan on the med console’s screen, “those machines botched tissue regeneration.”

“What am I looking at here?” Jake stepped closer to the screen. “Is that a tentacle?”

“This structure here,” I traced an oblong mass coiled inside Taleda’s groin, “is composed of a complex arrangement of muscle tissues, blood vessels, nerve endings, and sensory organs. The structure reminds me of a tongue; however, the muscle configuration suggests prehensile capabilities.”

“So a tentacle.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Captain, the Meklia generated a tentacle inside the ensign’s groin.” Humans. “Stop thinking you’ve got this. I’m calling it a phallix because I believe the organ is analogous to a phallus but originates from the base of a cervix.”

I tapped the screen to the left of the tentacle. “This structure here is a uterus without ovaries or fallopian tubes.”

“What was their birth anatomy?” asked Jake.

“Male. They went to Mekla with a penis; they returned with this.” I drew the sheet back from Taleda’s lower half. How would I feel if my penis was replaced with . . .

“Are those lips?”

“Yes and no. The muscular and nerve structure resembles a vagina internally; but the exterior musculature and tissues mimic lips but with a much greater ability to . . . uh . . .” I shrugged, “dilate. I’m labeling it the oralva because it shares properties of both the human mouth and vulva.”

“Did the Meklia regenerate an alien reproductive system in Taleda?”

I shook my head and covered the ensign. “I don’t think so–at least I don’t think that was the Meklia’s intent. My analysis of Taleda’s DNA shows it is perfectly human.” I turned to the med console and moved two DNA scans side by side onto the screen. “I took the DNA scan on the left when Taleda joined our crew–standard procedure. I like to create a baseline. The DNA scan on the right is current.”

“They look identical,” said Jake.

“They are nearly so.” I magnified the same section in both double helices and added contrast. “This one small section in red here is different. The scan on the left that I took for a baseline shows damage at the molecular level. The one on the right shows no signs of damage.”

“Are you suggesting the Meklia repaired the ensign’s DNA and this, “Jake waved at Taleda’s groin, “is the result?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “All I can say at this point is that Ensign Taleda is the healthiest they have ever been.”

Jake pinched his fingers together. “With a slight change in genitalia.”

“Oh, and hormones. I almost forgot about the hormones,” I said. “Their hormonal profile is radically different from both human males and females and includes a molecule not previously documented in humans that looks like something between estrogen and testosterone.”

“OK, so no big deal.” Jake tapped his comm badge. “Sato, open a channel to the Mekla ambassador and transfer their transmission to the medbay when you reach them.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“What are you sensing from the ensign now?” asked Jake.

I stared at Jake.

Jake stared at me.

I raised a brow. “I’m sensing they’re sleeping.”

“Captain, I’m patching Ambassador Mek0359 to the medbay,” said Sato.

A cube-shaped machine appeared on the screen. The machine’s face contained a sensor array composed of lenses, sampling ports, and antennae; a speaker; and a viewscreen, which was blank. A single green light blinked on the top of the cube. The machine had no visible appendages or means of movement. “This is Mek0359. State your query,” said the Ambassador.

“Greetings Ambassador, thank you for making the time to speak with me,” said Jake.

“The manufacture of time is infeasible,” said the Ambassador. “State your query.”

“Yes, well, I’m contacting you to understand how you treated Ensign Taleda’s injuries,” said Jake.

“I did not treat Ensign Taleda’s injuries. Medical care is not my directive,” said the Ambassador.

“I understand,” said Jake. “You see–I mean discrepancies exist between Ensign Taleda’s state prior to the attack and after your treatment.”

The Ambassador remained silent for a moment then spoke. “The Meklia ran healing protocols to rectify the damage caused by our operational failure.”

“Thank you–er, we thank the Meklia for saving the ensign’s life. We need help understanding the state changes in Ensign Taleda. May my chief medical officer speak with the Meklia that treated our ensign?” asked Jake.

“One moment,” said the Ambassador.

The green light on top of the Meklia in the transmission’s image powered down then powered up. Jake and I looked at each other.

“This is Medical Unit Mek4628. State your query.”

I stepped into the console’s view. “Hello, um, Doctor. I am Chief Medical Officer Teslus Elbrun. I wish to understand the anatomical and physiological changes to the human patient you treated–Ensign Cameron Taleda.”

“Medical Unit Mek4628 repaired Ensign Taleda to the specifications you transmitted,” said the Medical Unit.

“That may be what you think you did; however, substantial changes occurred as a result of your–er, repairs,” I said.

“Unit Mek4628 documented molecular damage that existed prior to injuries sustained by the Ensign Taleda unit in the attack resulting from Meklia operational failure Z71. Unit Mek4628 received Mekla directive A7C85Y instructing Unit Mek4628 to repair all damage to the Ensign Unit as a gesture of good will.”

“Can you send me all the data pertaining to treatment of Ensign Taleda?” I asked.

“Transmitting.” The medical unit paused. “Transmission complete. State your query.”

“Thank you Unit Mek4628. We have no further query.” said Jake.

The transmission ended.

“We’ll they’re a helpful bunch,” I said. “Maybe the data will–”

A loud bang jolted me.

We turned. Nurse Abrams stood at the medbay entrance. A dented containment vessel rolled away from her. She staggered forward, eyes wide and fixed upon Ensign Taleda.

“Abrams!” I rushed forward as Rachel Abrams lost her balance. I caught Abrams before the nurse hit the floor.

“Elbrun! Something’s happening to Taleda,” said Jake.

I glanced at Taleda; they writhed like the woman in my arms. “Hold them on the biobed. I’ll be there shortly.” I braced my back and placed Abrams on the biobed next to Taleda. Abrams moaned and fought my hold.

“Computer, activate restraints on biobeds one and two,” I said.

“Patient restraints activated on biobeds one and two,” said the Computer.

I grabbed a scanner and moved it over Abrams. “Pulse spiking. Respiration approaching hyperventilation. Pupils fully dilated.” Abrams bucked against the force field holding her. “Administering sedative.”

“What’s happening?” asked Jake.

“Not now, Captain.” I turned to Taleda. “Rapid pulse. Fast respiration.” I lifted each of their eyelids. “Dilated pupils.”

Taleda moaned faintly and squirmed. Their phallix had uncoiled and now undulated beneath the sheet. The tip periodically made circular whipping motions as if searching for something.

“Increasing Taleda’s sedation.” I returned to Abrams who still writhed under restraint. “Hormones are spiking. Increasing Abram’s sedation.”

I stepped back and watched the biobed monitors for a moment then brought up new diagnostics on both and shook my head.

Jake watched and waited.

I picked up a medical tricorder and transferred the biobed sensor cluster readings; then I grabbed a psycho-tricorder from storage and scanned both patients. “Fascinating.”

“Doctor?” asked Jake

“Sorry, Captain.” I looked up. “Both appear to be in a rapid-onset state of extreme arousal.”

“Are you telling me they’re super horny?” asked Jake.

“That would be a crass understatement.” I watched the real time biomarkers. “The level of sedation I gave each of them should have placed them in a deep sleep; yet clearly their drive to mate has broken through.” I watched both patients for a moment then shrugged. “No other diagnosis fits.”

“Are they in danger?” Jake furrowed his brow and crossed his arms as he watched the two struggle against their bonds. “Is it contagious?”

“They’re not in danger; prior to sedation, they’re hearts beat at a level commensurate with intense aerobic exercise with corresponding respiration . . . uh, heavy breathing.” I looked at Jake. “As for contagion, that is unlikely. Taleda was beamed directly to the medbay from Mekla. The transporter would have automatically screened viral and microbial pathogens; and, if that failed, the medbay would have automatically deployed a medical quarantine field to block airborne disease sources.” Airborne sources. I snapped my fingers. “That’s it! Computer, raise a medical quarantine field around biobed one then filter all organic molecules from the air in the medbay and inside the quarantine field.”

Jake moved away from the biobeds. “Teslus?”

I sampled the air with my medical tricorder.

“Talk to me, please!”

“OK, pheromone levels have dropped.” I watched Taleda and Abrams. “Looks like my hunch was correct. See how they’ve calmed?”

“Yeah, they look like they’re sleeping,” said Jake.

“Exactly. Their biometrics indicate they’ve entered a state of deep sedation, which is what I expect.” I turned to Jake. “I hadn’t thought to measure pheromones, which are airborne chemical signals produced by an organism, animal, person–whatever–to entice a potential mate to copulate. In humans, pheromones produce a subtle effect, mostly subconsciously. The best genetic matches are more attracted to each other by their pheromones, but never to this degree.”

I showed Jake the readings on my medical tricorder from Abram’s scan. “This data shows that Nurse Abrams has entered her ovulation phase after exposure to Taleda’s pheromones.”

Jake shook his head. “Couldn’t she have already been in that phase before getting close to the ensign?”

“No.” I smiled. “We got lucky. Yesterday, I scanned her in biobed four to recalibrate the sensor cluster. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she was physiologically at least two weeks away from ovulating.”

“OK, weird. But that doesn’t explain Taleda’s extreme response.” Jake gestured toward the sleeping ensign. “I mean your scans of Abrams showed she was normal right?”

“Correct, but Abram’s pheromones clearly produced a reciprocal effect. I think we may have to change our perspective on normalcy.”



“How are you feeling, Ensign?” I asked.

Cameron opened there eyes slowly and blinked. “Am I alive, Doc? . . . The explosion . . . Is the Ambassador OK? The last thing I remember . . . noise . . . and heat and pain. Burning–everything burning. They reached for their side.

“You’re safe and, um, healed. Ambassador Toorok survived because of your actions, Taleda. You honored Starfleet with your courage, and we’re all grateful you’ve come back to us.”

“I . . . I didn’t have time to think. I don’t know . . . It’s all so confusing.” Cameron rubbed their head, further mashing their curly purple locks into a runaway tangle. They looked at me hopelessly.

“You’re a hero,” I said.

“I don’t feel like a hero. I just feel like me.” They shrugged.

“Well, given the circumstances, that’s a good thing,” I said.

“What circumstances?” asked Cameron.

“You’ve been under sedation for several days. The Meklia treated your injuries; however, we need to discuss some complications from your treatment, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“It’s OK, Doc. I feel great.” Cameron smiled, yawned, and stretched their whole body. “What the–” Cameron yanked the sheet off of them. Their phallix lay extended on the biobed. They shrieked. “What is that?!” Cameron scrambled on their back to the head of the biobed. “Get it off me!” Their phallix moved with them and began to recoil into their oralva. “GET IT OFF ME!” Cameron raised their fist.

“Wait! Stop!” I lunged forward.

Cameron screamed and doubled over in pain with the blow to their phallix.

“Is that part of me?!” They cried out and sobbed. Tears streaked their cheeks. “What’s happened to me?”

I grabbed a dermal regenerator. “I’ll explain everything; but you have to follow my instructions, and–keep an open mind.” I repaired the tissue damage. “Is the pain gone?”

They nodded through tears.

“Take deep breaths. Focus on breathing. Calm yourself.”

Tremors cut off their deep breath.

“May I assist you telepathically?” I asked.

Cameron nodded.

I entered the Ensign’s mind and projected calmness. Once their frenetic thoughts slowed, I focused their attention on deep breaths.

“I’m feeling much better, thank you.” Cameron smiled at me sheepishly.

I studied Taleda. Physically, they present as nondescript. The type of person you overlook in a group, party, or crowd. Slight of build. Average height. Generic face. Underdeveloped muscles. Interacting with Taleda, however, changes one’s assessment. Their facial features are delicate and paired with penetrating brown eyes that induce the intoxicating sensation of being seen.

I placed my hand on their shoulder. “I’m here to care for you.” I looked down the biobed. The Ensign had brought their knees up and kept their feet apart to avoid contact with their phallix, which still lay extended on the biobed for a full meter from their body. “Do you trust me?”

Cameron nodded.

“OK, you need to retract your phallix. Try to do that,” I said.

Cameron shook their head. “No way. Nah ah.”

“I understand this is confusing and scary, but you must master retracting your phallix to protect it. Will you try?”

Cameron grimaced and nodded their head. After several deep breaths and hard swallows, they began straining. Their phallix did not move.

“So, stop. I recognize this is new for everyone. Given that you're still laying across the biobed, straining like you're constipated isn’t helping. Close your eyes and try envisioning what you want to happen. I know you can feel your phallix on the biobed. Think about that sensation but coiled in here.” I placed my palm on their groin.

Cameron closed their eyes. After a moment their phallix began to retract slowly. They gasped and opened their eyes wide. “I can feel it.”

Remember, your goal is for Taleda to accept their emotions, not tell them how they feel. “How does it feel?” I asked.

Cameron blushed. “Kinda good, actually.”

“Focus on that feeling and bring all of it back in,” I said. Yeah, that sensation is delicious.

After the Ensign fully retracted their phallix, I pulled the sheet over them. “Good work.” I paused. “When I entered your mind, Ensign, I saw you had had a dream about a pearl and silk. Do you remember that?”

They shook their head.

“The dream was quite vivid; but you’ve also been through a traumatic event, so maybe it’ll make sense later. I’m going to gather my notes. When you’re ready, let’s talk about your body.”

Cameron nodded.

I turned to get my PADD.

“Doc?”

“Yes?”

“Where’s my dick?”



I lay with my head on Jake’s chest. His heart beat strong; his breath came slow and deep as he drifted through his afterglow. My fingers circled and teased his nipple erect before letting it subside and starting again. “What do you love about me?” I asked.

“Hmmm?”

He drifted toward sleep. I pinched his nipple.

His eyes popped open then slowly fell. “What?”

“What do you love about me?”

Jake relaxed into a sigh. “I love how the corner of your mouth curls when you're amused. Looking into your eyes is like gazing into never-ending space. I love the patterns you shave into your hair, and I love that you constantly move and change your tattoos.”

“Why?”

“You’re free. You express yourself in ways that I can never. It’s like you haven’t even read the personal presentation section of Starfleet regulations.”

“There’s a personal presentation section?”

My head bounced as Jake’s chuckle rippled through his chest. He caressed my shoulder softly until he drifted again.

“What else?” I asked.

“Well . . .”

I scratched a nail across his nipple.

“Uh . . . mmm . . . I love how I’m physically more capable than you in every aspect—strength, speed, stamina—but you own me in bed. I try to resist you . . .”

“You should keep trying; that’s fun.” I hugged him tightly, lifted my head and looked at him with my chin on his chest. “Would you still love me if I lost my dick?”

“Of course, don’t be silly,” he said.

“But we couldn’t be together in the same way.”

“We’d find a way.” Jake yawned. “Humans . . . humans . . . have . . . b e e n . . . d e v e l o p i n g . . . s e x . . . t o y s . . . f o r e v e r.”

“That’s true; your species has quite the fetish.” I lowered my head to his chest again and let him sleep.



“I need to get out of here, Elbrun.” Rachel held her knees to her chest and rocked on the biobed. “I’m going stir crazy.”

I scanned her. “Why?”

“There’s nothing to do but think.” She frowned.

“Is that such a bad thing?” I asked.

“Yes!”

“If you want, I can invite your gaggle of girls to visit.”

“Don’t you dare! So help me, Elbrun—”

I smirked. “So what sim are you going to burn through this time? Rock Climbing? Parkour? Cliff Diving? Triathlon? Surfing? Gymnastics? Kung Fu? Ju Jitsu?”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “Huh, I didn’t think you were listening before. No—surfing this time. I need to lose myself in the flow.”



Chief Medical Officer’s Log, USS Stonewall, Stardate 2423.65:

Ensign Cameron Taleda remains quarantined in the medbay. I released Nurse Rachel Abrams to active duty; but after her first day back, I transferred her duty station out of the medbay. Ensign Taleda’s presence distracted her to the point of ineffectiveness. The extreme arousal she experienced upon her first encounter with Taleda has partially subsided since Taleda’s quarantine, but not completely. She mumbled repeatedly about “bringing a pearl home.” Her biosigns indicate an elevated state of arousal that she describes as significant but manageable. I also note that her body has paused in the ovulation phase. I have confirmed the release of an egg into her uterus without further progression of her menstrual cycle.

Captain Jake Beck and myself remain unaffected by exposure to the pheromones produced by Taleda and Abrams. Abrams has served in Starfleet for six years without incident, which supports my theory that the effect she and Taleda experienced is restricted to them.

The only connection I’ve been able to find between the two is they both carry copies of the gene sequences that the Meklia repaired in Ensign Taleda. Nurse Abrams possesses half the genes paired with a more common genetic sequence in human females. Ensign Taleda possesses both halves of the genes. Thus, the genes must express a recessive trait. Nurse Abrams may (in theory) pass her half copy to offspring, with anatomy seen in Ensign Taleda forming only if she mated with someone possessing the other half of the genes.

These genes rarely occur in human populations. This infrequency may result from the individuals with these genes being either infertile or experiencing high rates of miscarriage.

I don’t know why or how Taleda sustained damage to those genes, but I suspect the damage forced development of male genitalia in place of their current form.

Taleda’s mother is a physician; I will contact her to discuss their case further. By a stroke of luck, one other crew member on the Stonewall carries half of the genes, Security Officer Ansen Luc. Captain Beck has authorized me to speak with Luc and possibly conduct tests to further characterize the phenomenon affecting Taleda and Abrams. End log.



“Do you know why you’re here?” I asked.

“Captain’s orders,” replied Ansen.

I scanned Officer Luc with my medical tricorder. “Yes, but do you know why the Captain ordered you to see me?” All vitals are nominal.

“No.”

“I am investigating a medical issue that affects Ensign Taleda,” I gestured to Taleda, who waved from behind the quarantine field, “and Nurse Abrams, who assists us today.”

“I don’t understand. How can I help?” Ansen asked.

“You carry a complementary portion of the genes that both Taleda and Abrams carry. I suspect those genes play a role in the medical issue. I want to test that theory by exposing you to Ensign Taleda. Your participation is purely voluntary. No one, not even Captain Beck, can order you to comply. Do you wish to volunteer?”

Luc frowned. “Will it hurt?”

“No,” said Rachel. She avoided my stare by focusing on her tricorder. I felt and shared her eagerness to begin.

“We’ve tested sixty-three other volunteers with no response; however, they did not possess the genes that you do,” I said. “Sorry, I have to say something. Your nose has clearly been broken multiple times and healed without medical intervention. Why would you suffer for that long?”

Ansen felt the dents and knots along his nasal bridge. “No big deal.”

“Well, we expect this research to be less intrusive,” I said.

“What do I have to do?” asked Ansen.

“You will lay on biobed two under restraint while we lower the quarantine field that isolates Ensign Taleda,” I replied.

“So, I just have to lay there?” asked Ansen.

Rachel and I nodded and smiled encouragingly.

Ansen shrugged. “OK, I’ll do it.”

“Great! Rachel double check that your personal quarantine shield is on.” I guided Luc to the biobed. “Officer Luc, please lay here, and I’ll turn on the restraints. Perfect. Now I’m going to restrain Taleda and then lower the shield.” I moved next to Taleda’s biobed. “OK, restraints are on. Rachel, are you quarantined?”

She gave me a thumbs up.

“Lowering the quarantine shield.” I moved back to Luc’s side and watched the scan data on my tricorder. “Do you feel anything, Officer Luc?”

“No.”

I looked at him. He had started sweating and his breath quickened. Behind me, I heard Taleda moan softly and squirm. “How about now?”

“No, nothing. I’m OK,” Luc’s voice was thick and hoarse. He glanced toward Taleda and flexed against his restraints.

“Forty-three seconds into trial, Ansen Luc presents with an erection,” said Rachel.

“No,” Luc clenched his teeth and moaned. “I don’t–”

“You’re hard as a rock,” said Rachel. “These uniforms hide nothing.”

“Rachel, a little sensitivity please,” I said.

“We need accurate data.” Rachel pointed to Luc’s groin. “He’s hard–impressively so–but this meathead won’t admit he’s losing it.”

Taleda moaned. I turned. The Ensign writhed under their restraints.

Luc cried out. He bucked against his bonds; eyes locked on Taleda.

“Computer, raise quarantine field; filter pheromones from medbay and quarantine area,” I said. “Rachel, start the recovery timer . . . Rachel?”

She didn’t respond. I looked up. Like Luc, Rachel was transfixed by Taleda. Her medical tricorder lay on the floor in pieces. I checked her mobile quarantine field; strength and frequency were both normal.

Rachel whispered, “Wrap the pearl in silk.”

“All pheromones have been removed,” said the Computer.

“Computer, start recovery timer for Cameron Taleda, Ansen Luc, and Rachel Abrams.”



“The purpose of this research is to ascertain the physical and cognitive impacts of interaction between individuals with the identified gene sequences. The near and long term impacts are unknown and may be temporary or long lasting. Do you understand?” I looked up from the consent form on my PADD.

“I’ll be working with Taleda, right?” asked Luc. He ran a large, thick-fingered hand over his close-cropped blonde hair while studying the Ensign, who watched him from their biobed.

“I need a verbal yes or no, Officer Luc,” I said.

“Yes.” Ansen rubbed his thighs. He whispered, “Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

Luc stared at me with his dour face.

I shook my head and returned to the consent protocol. “Do you consent to monitoring your physical condition?” I asked.

“What?” Luc glanced at me then returned his gaze to Taleda. “Yes, fine.”

“Do you consent to monitoring your mental state by medical tricorder?”

“Yeah, yeah when do I start working with Taleda?” asked Luc.

“Do you consent to monitoring your mental state through direct telepathy?”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Do you consent to monitoring of your behavior, including intimate moments, through sensor readings, direct observation, and telepathic connection?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, all that, whatever you want. Can we start?” asked Luc.

“We’ll start now,” I said.

Rachel squealed from across the medbay. Taleda grinned.



Chief Medical Officer’s Log, USS Stonewall, Stardate 2423.70:

I have released Ensign Cameron Taleda from medbay quarantine with the restriction that they, along with Nurse Rachel Abrams and Security Officer Ansen Luc, continually use personal quarantine shields. Rachel Abrams’ response during the exposure trial between Taleda and Luc suggests pheromones aren’t the only stimulation vector among the three. I must protect them and the rest of the crew.

The physiological, mental, and behavioral interactions between the three subjects relate to human sexual reproduction, so the remainder of this log documents comparative differences between the three in this regard.

Cameron Taleda is a twenty-two year old, nonbinary human born with male anatomy. They identify as nonbinary both before and after the transformation of their sexual organs, which technically makes them a transsexual–I’ll let the labelers sort that one.

Taleda’s friends described them as a gamer nerd who comes across as a braggart, but also the first to stand against other players trolling their friends.

When asked about their sexual history, Taleda replied, “Anything that moves.” Later, they clarified, “Any humanoid that moves.” When I asked for a list of prior liaisons, Taleda admitted they had not copulated with anyone yet. They did describe their performance in an unsanctioned erotic holodeck game, with the ghastly title “To Boldly Cum Where No One Has Cum Before”, in which Taleda claims to have reached the supposedly impressive rank of “Rear Admiral.” Their words.

Rachel Abrams is a twenty-one year old, cisgender, lesbian human female. Tallest of the three, Abrams presents as the most physically striking with a conventionally beautiful face paired with (as a former lover describes) “blue-sky eyes and hair flowing through midnight with obsidian curves and eddies catching hints of starlight during a new moon.”

Abrams is arguably also the most intelligent of the subjects. However, my personal observations, conversations with her, and interviews with her friends and lovers suggests she directs her quick wit and expansive knowledge exclusively toward acts of seduction. She describes herself as a “huntress.” When I pressed her on this, Abrams revealed that she reflects her quarry. “I make her see what she wants.”

Her friends were entirely cisgender females consisting exclusively of either former lovers or ostensibly future conquests. Her former-lover friends described Abrams as gamophobic, withdrawing at the first blush of commitment, but too hot to drop. Her future-conquest friends described her with a nauseating list of superlatives that demonstrated her seduction skills.

In response to my request for a list of sexual liaisons, Abrams produced the names of thirty cisgender women who identified as heterosexual prior to meeting Abrams and “confused”, “maybe bi”, or “totally into girls now” after their sexual relationship with Abrams ended. None of the women carried the genes under consideration in this study.

Ansen Luc is a twenty-six year old, cisgender, heterosexual human male. His dour countenance and gruff manners detract from his attractiveness to the point he repels people. My interviews with Luc elicited only single-word responses or non-verbal grunts, so I switched to a telepathic examination.

Luc’s early childhood memories revealed a roly-poly ball of sunshine with a contagious smile and infectious giggle. Human masculine norms poisoned that little boy as he grew, withering expressions of individuality and extinguishing joy, forging the man he is today. To wit, Luc is intelligent but shied from developing his mind to minimize beatings from peers.

The people he identified as friends characterized Luc as a coworker, teammate, or acquaintance but not a friend. Everyone stated they didn’t know Luc well enough to comment on him. When I asked for a list of sexual partners, Luc claimed he had had intercourse with dozens of women. When I insisted on contact information, he produced the names of three. The first woman stated that their interaction “didn’t count.” The second woman described the encounter as “awkward”. The third woman said the following, “The sex was OK . . . actually, I was really hard up and he was there.” None of the women carried the genes in question.

The three study subjects did not know each other prior to their encounter in the medbay. Other than genetics, I have no idea what links a loyal virgin, a promiscuous gamophobe, and an oppressed misanthrope. End log.



Officer Luc sat for his weekly examination. The biobed complained under his bulk.

“You’re underweight for your frame size,” I said. “Have you lost your appetite?”

“No.” Luc picked at calluses on his palm.

I examined his biomarkers. “Well, I can’t find a medical reason for your weight loss. Are you depressed?”

He shrugged. “Training.”

I raised my brow. “For?”

“Wrestling.”

“That’s right. You compete in the Quadrant’s Quinquennial Games, correct?”

Luc nodded.

“So . . . why do you need to lose weight for that?” I asked.

“Dropping to Junior Heavyweight class,” he said.

“The amount you’ve lost is not healthy. You have a thick frame and significant muscle development from what—I’m guessing powerlifting?”

He nodded.

“You risk sabotaging your performance from fasting. Why would you do that?” I asked.

“Won gold in heavyweight class last games. Need a challenge.”

I shook my head. “If you insist on this path, at least eat food that will minimize the health impacts. I’ll send recipes to the galley for you.”

He looked up but just nodded.

“Moving on, your biomarkers show your arousal level has increased a bit. Can you cope with the change?”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Luc.

“Officer Luc, most people—look at me—most people in this state of arousal report a significant disruption in their lives. Inability to focus. Intrusive erotic thoughts. Irritability. Poor sleep.”

Luc’s hazel eyes revealed nothing. “Doesn’t matter.”

I scoffed and immediately regretted it. “Sorry. Perhaps a different approach may be more productive. Each of us, including you, has the right to live unburdened by expectations. Sharing who you are can be cathartic. If you’re open to talking with someone in a similar position, Nurse Abrams frequently runs physically demanding holosims. You might ask to join her sometime.”

“OK, we done?”

“You’re free to go.” I gestured toward the door.

Luc stood to leave.

“Oh, and Officer Luc, make sure you listen as much as you talk.” I smiled.

He nodded.



“Doctor Elbrun, I presume. I expected a call sooner.”

The creases on Dr. Taleda’s face bore witness to decades of frowning. I’m really glad I can’t read minds through subspace communication. “I apologize, Doctor Taleda. I’ve been–”

“I don’t care about your duties; I’ve left you no less than seventeen messages regarding Cameron’s treatment,” said Dr. Taleda.

“I understand, Doctor Taleda; I know you have limited time and wish to delve into Cameron’s care, so why don’t we start with identifying a source or sources of the genetic damage. I examined your genetic records and Cameron’s father that you sent. Neither of you have the DNA damage that Cameron carries. If the Meklia–”

“You can’t trust those bolt buckets. Look at what they did to my baby! Butchers!” said Dr. Taleda.

“Nevertheless, if they repaired Cameron’s DNA correctly, which appears to be the case, then the damage must have occurred before or during pregnancy. Can you recall any event or factor that may have exposed their DNA to alteration?” I asked.

“Doctor Elbrun, as I’m sure you have learned by now, people with genes that my family carries have tremendous difficulty conceiving and bearing children. I, personally, went to great lengths to bring Cameron to this universe. In vitro fertilization proceeded correctly. I had lab grade purifiers installed in my home. I took a prenatal vitamin, and I ate only cultivated food–no replicator fabrications. I assure you I did everything according to protocol, and I have the records to prove it. I kept meticulous notes in my journals. Those MACHINES screwed up!”

“Can you send me your journals? Maybe they will help me see something I’m missing,” I said.

Dr. Taleda looked away from the view screen for a moment then returned her glare to me. “Done. When will you be restoring Cameron’s genitals?”



“What’s your poison tonight, Doc?” asked the bartender.

“Synthale, thanks Toby.” I leaned against the bar. I’m tired. I looked around. This place is dead. “Ten Forward’s slow tonight, huh?” I spotted Abrams, Taleda, and Luc in the far corner.

“Yep.” Toby placed a glass of synthale in front of me. “They’re an odd trio; aren’t they?”

I took a long draw on my ale. “How do you mean?”

“Well, the Belle of the Ball, the Oddball, and the Outcast–a few weeks ago they existed in alternate realities. Abrams always had her posse, and it wasn’t them.” Toby jerked a thumb toward the trio. “Taleda hung with the cosplay crowd; and Luc, well, Luc was always either in a fight or breaking one up.”

I kept my eyes on the three. “If he’s such a troublemaker, how come you let him in here?”

“He’s not the problem. Some people can’t leave others alone. I guess they resent him doin’ his job–excuse me Commander. Holler if you need a refill.”

I nursed my drink, so I could watch them more. Per my orders, they weren’t allowed to meet privately yet. Sensor data confirmed that whenever two or more were off duty they met in public.

They sat as close to each other as their quarantine fields allowed. Taleda and Abrams chatted and laughed; Luc listened–attentively but silently. Oddly, the other two included him in the conversation as if he contributed as much as they did. The three leaned in too close, causing green sparks from their colliding quarantine fields to crackle through the air. Taleda and Abrams laughed.

This is more than friendship.

They laughed again. Boisterous and carefree. No one laughs with me like that. Gee, I wonder why Mr. Senior Officer and Telepath. Stop complaining, Teslus. Jake’s a great friend and lover. You can talk to him about anything. So what if there’s no one to talk to about him? I sighed and finished my ale.



Chief Medical Officer’s Log, USS Stonewall, Stardate 2423.131:

I have maintained the ban on private encounters between Taleda, Abrams, and Luc. I understand almost nothing about their condition; thus, I cannot risk their health and safety or that of the crew. The three continue to spend their free time together in public. Each remains in the same elevated state of arousal that began after their initial encounter. Abram’s menstrual cycle has been paused in her ovulation phase with a viable egg for the last seventy-one days. Other physiological changes have occurred–their hearts now beat in synchrony. All three referenced the same repeating thought, “Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk.” I’ve puzzled over the meaning of this extensively to no avail. End log.



“Do you see anything yet?” Abrams paced in front of my desk.

“Not yet.” I tweaked the scanner’s focus on the DNA sample. “Wait. Yes . . . I think–yes, I see something.”

Rachel rushed around the desk and leaned over my shoulder. Her quarantine field tingled my neck. Her warm breath pulsed over my ear. I liked it. “Let me see,” she said softly.

Rachel had trapped me between her body and the desk, restricting my movement to a tilt of my head to give her access to the scanner. She pressed her breasts into my shoulder as she peered into the scanner’s viewport. “It looks like the damage on Cameron’s DNA before the attack!” Rachel backed off and sat on the edge of my desk. Her legs swung over the edge.

I smiled and nodded. “We’ve found our teratogen. That compound in the prenatal vitamins caused the damage to Cameron’s DNA, altering their development in the womb.”

Rachel pumped her fists. “Yes! I knew it! The Meklia did heal them.”

I saved the test results and molecular structure of the compound. “Now what I have to do is contact the Federation Archives to figure out when and why this chemical became a component of prenatal vitamins, so we can stop other children from being deformed like Cam–”

“Everyone knows.” Rachel’s voice quavered.

I looked up.

“Everyone knows you two are a couple.” A tear slid down her cheek.

I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

“You and the Captain–we all know you’re together. I’m sorry, Teslus! You’ve been so nice to us, and you work so hard to help us, and,” Rachel threw her hands up and sobbed, “I placed bets!”

I rose and hugged her, but her quarantine field blocked contact and shot pins through my arms. “OK, that’s not working.”

She laughed halfheartedly.

“Take three deep breaths, and tell me what’s bothering you.”

Her tension receded with each breath. “The crew has a weekly betting pool.” Rachel’s chin trembled. She stared at her hands in her lap. “We bet on where, when, and how you two will get caught in a PDA.” She looked up. “That’s a public display of affection. We call it–”

“Captain’s Quarters.” I quirked my brow and smiled.

Her eyes widened. “You know?”

“You do remember I’m Betazoid, right? I’ve known since Ensign Gruber proposed the game in Ten Forward to Ensigns Gomez and Volek.”

Rachel sniffled. “Really?”

“Why do you think Ensign Gruber spent a month cleaning all the grips in every Jefferies Tube in this ship?”

“That was you?” She grinned.

“Not me; I’m just the messenger,” I said.

“If he knows, how come we weren’t all punished?”

“Ensign Gruber proposed the game to spite Jake–er, Captain Beck, but the rest of you played because you like the Captain. I convinced Jake that the morale boost from playing far surpassed any hit to his ‘command presence’.” I grinned. “Plus, he’s SO CUTE when he blushes!”

“I know! Right?”



“Come into my office, Cameron.” I offered them a chair and sat in the one diagonal to them.

They flopped onto the chair. “So . . . how long have I got?”

I smiled. “Barring an away mission mishap–you wear a red shirt after all–I guess about one hundred and forty years.”

They grinned.

I hesitated. “Seriously, you’re in great health. The only issues I’m concerned about are your elevated arousal levels and . . .”

“My junk.”

I nodded. “Your physiology isn’t bothering you, so I’ll keep monitoring you to ensure nothing becomes problematic. Who knows;” I shrugged; “maybe we’ll learn something. Does that chant still run through your head? ‘Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk.’”

Cameron nodded.

“It’s stuck in my head now too.”

“Any idea what it means?”

I shook my head.

They started to rise.

“Wait a moment, Cameron. I want to talk to you about . . .” I realized I stared at their crotch; I looked up. Cameron smirked at me. I blushed and avoided their gaze. Why is it so unsettling to be around them? “I spoke with the Librarian at the Federation’s Earth Archives. The composition of the prenatal vitamins your mother took predates World War Three. Few records survived that period. One mention of the vitamin stated it reduced the risk of birth defects. There has been no research on the chemicals since then.

“I’ve thought a lot about how a poison could persist in such a crucial medication for so long. What I came to was this. Progress requires us to draw upon past discoveries. At some point in the past, the well was poisoned, but successive generations never tested the water before drawing.”

I forced myself to look into Cameron’s eyes. I swallowed. “The Librarian said that other records from that era reveal a society heavily impacted by fear, anger, and shame. Differences spurred suppression. I suspect someone acted out of malice, perhaps rationalized by the false morality of a long forgotten God, to ensnare future generations for centuries.

“I’m sending my results and the data from our ongoing study to Starfleet Medical for review and protocol revision. No more children will suffer your fate.”

“What do you think I should do?” asked Cameron.

“About what?” I asked.

Cameron grabbed their crotch.

My eyes flitted to their groin and lingered longer than was professional before meeting their gaze again. Hard to say which is more distracting. “That choice is solely yours. The operation isn’t trivial; however, we can regenerate male genitalia for you. And to be clear, I will comply with your wish whenever and whatever you decide. Even if that requires me to end the research today.”

“But what do YOU think?”

“You don’t need my consent or approval.”

Cameron scoffed. “My Mom’s nagging me to hack off my phallix. Rache and Ansi plead with me to keep it. Everyone’s telling me what to do except for the one person whose opinion I want.”

I take their hand in mine despite the needle pricks from the quarantine field surrounding them. “I’m not telling you what you should do because that would be a disservice to you. The choice is yours and must be made only by you.

“I can offer a suggestion. Whatever you decide, ensure that you choose for you and not because another person, society, whoever, made you think you had to choose one way or another.

“That’s difficult to sort through, so take your time and think carefully about it. Humans often conflate concepts. I’m perpetually mystified by the human distinctions of man and woman because the two are more similar than different, and the dissimilarities seem irrelevant to human’s social use of the concepts. The nonbinary label is equally confusing because the name is rooted in what it rejects, not what it is. Don’t you find that odd?”

Cameron shrugged. “I dunno. I never thought about it. That's what people call someone like me.”

“Think about it. Anatomy does not define a person.”



I frowned at my reflection in the wardrobe replicator’s mirrors. Tonight’s Captain’s Dinner was the first opportunity for Jake and I to spend personal time together for weeks. Our schedules had kept us apart, and I looked forward to seeing him even if we shared the moment with twenty others. So I wanted to elevate my game; turn heads across the room. I sighed and slumped. I have no idea what I’m doing.

“Computer, contact Rachel Abrams.”

“Calling Rachel Abrams.”

“Hey you!, What’s up?”

“The Captain’s Dinner is tonight, and I don’t know what to–”

“Ooo! A fashion emergency! On my way.”

Rachel transported to my quarters.

“Why are you using the site-to-site transporter?” I frowned at her. “Beaming into quarters is for emergencies only.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “Why are you naked?!”

“I’m getting dressed.” I rolled my eyes. “Oh right, I forget how prudish you humans are about nudity.” I gazed at the front of my torso and smiled.

Rachel watched me. “You do have exquisite definition.”

“Yoga–for balance and flexibility.” I looked over my shoulder at the mirror behind me. “I sometimes think I should bulk up, but I’m completely unmotivated to put in the effort because Jake is totally into my body; though, he does keep refusing my personnel request for someone to help with stocking medical supplies.” My eyes drift down. “I accuse him of forced labor to buff my figure. He won’t deny it.” I love my ass. Small but curvy and tight with lovely side dimples.

“Eh hem!”

I turned to Rachel. She was blushing and nodded toward my sex.

“Seriously? A person can’t appreciate the sight of their own body?”

Rachel avoided my gaze, still blushing.

“Fine, I’ll quash my joy in the male form.”

She stared mouth agape as my erection faded.

“That’s seriously impressive,” She said, meeting my gaze after I was fully flaccid.

I shrugged. “For humans maybe, on Betazed, we teach that basic control technique to children when they enter puberty. Arousal control is easy.” I turned back to the mirrors. “I want to start with my hair.” I ran my fingers through my hair and teased out a couple of locks. “So boring.” I studied Rachel’s hair. “You have great hair.”

Rachel smirked and flipped her hair forward to frame her face. For a moment, I glimpsed the predator.

“Computer, change my hair color to Rachel Abram’s”

“Don’t you steal my color! I swear; I’ll–Oh, that does look good on you. The color intensity complements the black in your eyes and your pale complexion well . . . How is your skin so clear and smooth?”

“Dunno.” I shrugged.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

She studied my hair. “You want to spice things up a bit?”

“Yes! Yes!” I clapped excitedly. “A thousand times yes!”

“May I?”

I nodded and faced her, avoiding the reflections that would prompt second guesses.

“Computer, add a crimson streak to Teslus’ forelock, left side, twenty degree angle, upward fade to temple.” She smiled. “Excellent. Now let’s get clothes on your body before I decide I have a new type.”

I blushed.

“Go commando–it’s sexier,” Rachel said.

I nodded. “It is; isn’t it?”

“Computer, crimson dress, form fitting, short sleeves, short skirt, plunge back to waistline, asymmetrical plunging neckline from left shoulder, twenty degree angle, asymmetrical bare midriff with asymmetry matching neckline.”

I felt the dress form around me. “Well?”

Rachel crossed her arms and held her chin as she paced from my left to my right and back again. “Computer, shorten skirt. Shorter.”

“Rachel, it has to cover my ass; this is a formal event.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Shorter. Perfect!” She studied me further. “Computer, tighten dress. Tighter.”

“Too tight! Too tight!” I gasped.

“Exhale. You’ll be fine.” Rachel’s eyes poured over me for a long moment then she nodded. “The Captain will love you in this.” A mischievous smile danced across her lips. “Have a look.”

I turned to the mirrors and gasped. “It’s gorgeous!” The torso framed my shoulders and chest exquisitely while mirroring the geometry of my hairstyle. I turned. The back accentuated the muscles in my upper back while focusing attention downward to my ass. “I love it!” The dress unequivocally stated, “Neglect me at your peril.”

I faced forward again and moved my gaze from head to toe. I gasped midway. The head of my penis dangled below the skirt’s hem.

I looked at Rachel. “Bitch.”

“Slut.” She smiled, winked, and teleported.

I gazed at my reflection, turning slightly left then right. “I do love this dress.” The hem of the skirt tightened then began sliding up my thighs. “Hello there. A pleasure to see you again.” I shifted and moaned. “I think I’ll let this one play out.” Slut.



Blood saturated Ansen’s right brow and pooled toward his eye.

“Rachel, swab that.” I moved the tissue regenerator over the laceration on his forehead. “I need space to work, Cameron. Please step back.”

“Who did this?” asked Cameron.

“Some Jerks in Ten Forward,” said Ansen.

“Who? I want names.” Cameron clenched and unclenched their fists.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Ansen.

“It does matter!” Cameron’s voice cracked. “You matter.”

“Cameron’s right, Anse. Tell us what happened.” Rachel swapped sponges to absorb more blood.

Ansen exhaled. “My shift was ending, and I was finishing a report of a disturbance at the bar when I overheard some guys running you down.” He glanced at Cameron. “They called you a freak; said they knew someone—one of your cosplay buddies—who had seen your . . . your—what’d you call it, Doc?”

“Someone saw Cameron’s phallix?” I asked.

“Yea, through their pants,” said Ansen.

I looked at Cameron. They pursed their lips.

“I stretch periodically. I try to be discreet, down my pants leg is all. Someone must have seen me.”

“They called you a defective freak, so we had words. Called me a monster lover. Nobody talks about you like that. Nobody. I wrote them up for hate speech. They jumped me in the corridor after my shift.”

“Did you use the strikes I showed you?” asked Rachel.

I switched to an osteoregenerator to heal the broken bones in Ansen’s hand.

Ansen nodded. “I did, but there were six of ‘em, and I’m not as good as you.”

“You still have that report on your PADD?” asked Cameron.

Ansen handed them the PADD. Cameron flipped to Ansen’s last report and read the names. They handed the device back and turned for the door.

“Where are you going?!” I asked.

Cameron turned toward me and opened their arms while stepping backward to the door. “To educate some people.”

“Wait for me!” Rachel caught my eye.

“Go ahead; keep them safe.” I nodded toward Cameron. “I’ll finish here. And no violence you two!” I hope they destroy those guys.

“Peace, Tesi!” called Cameron as they slipped out.



I woke groaning into my pillow as the warm pool spread beneath me. Mmmm. What was I . . . I drifted. Drifted. Drifted. Slept.

Rachel bounced into the medbay. “Good morning, Tesi!”

“Morning, Rache, you’re awfully perky today.” I took a long draw on my green tea and contemplated something stronger.

“I had a great night!” She stopped. “You look worked over. You OK?”

I nodded.

“Uh huh, sure. Let me know if I can help.”

I turned to my view screen as Rachel went to the storeroom. Let’s see how the rest of the family fares. I pulled up biometrics on Rachel, Cameron, and Ansen. Their arousal levels had increased further and were substantially higher than at the study’s start. Not good. Hearts still beat in unison. Odd but not a problem. I froze mid sip. At 23:16 last night, all three simultaneously climaxed.

I placed my cup on the desk and lowered my voice. “Computer, retrieve the last twelve hours of biometric data for Teslus Elbrun.”

My finger moved down the time series data.

20:40

21:05

22:36

23:00

23:07

23:16 I came.

No. No. No. I compared my heartbeat to theirs. Unity. I rubbed my eyes. What’s happening! Think Teslus. Think.

Arousal levels! They’re different! I checked my arousal levels. Normal. I exhaled. A coincidence—nothing more. I’m tired, that’s all. Just tired. . . . Tired. Oh, no. I looked inward. May the four Gods help me.

I released the block suppressing my desire.

The room spun. Lust, joy, love coursed through me, entangled my thoughts–disoriented and subsumed me. I tried to flee, reeled, and collapsed on the floor.

“Tesi! Can you hear me?”

I opened my eyes. Cameron, Rachel, and Ansen, their faces wrought with concern, stood over me on the biobed.

“How do you feel?” asked Rachel.

“Weak.” My voice was hoarse and dry. “Water.”

Cameron handed me a glass.

“I found you collapsed on the floor,” said Rachel. “What happened?”

I closed my eyes. “Too little sleep, too much caffeine, not enough food.” I opened my eyes.

All three of them looked as if they were about to say, “bullshit.”

I smiled. “I’ll be OK; let me rest.”

“You do that,” said Ansen.

“But we’re keeping,” said Cameron.

“An eye on you,” said Rachel.

“Thank you.” They squeezed my hands and started to move off. “Hey can one of you bring me a PADD?” I closed my eyes again and checked the mental block on my desire; it had been restored. How?

“Here you go.” Cameron handed me the PADD.

When they had engaged each other to the point of distraction, I whispered into the PADD, “Computer, transfer all of my biometric data for the last three months to my personal log and secure it with encryption alpha-zeta. Erase those three months of data from my medical file. Store all future biometric data for me in my personal log with encryption alpha-zeta.”

“Transfer and encryption complete.”



“Mocha ice cream, hot caramel sauce, sliced almonds, and whipped cream.” Jake looked at me. “Extra whipped cream.”

The replicator chimed. Jake retrieved the dessert and slid it toward me.

I frowned at it. “You don’t have to feed me.”

Jake tapped his finger on the table. “You are not leaving my sight until I have witnessed you eat enough calories to sustain life.” He gestured at the dish. “Be grateful I’m trying to entice you instead of force feeding you emergency rations.”

I saluted. “Aye, Aye Captain.”

With the first bite, I closed my eyes and pretended to savor the indulgence. He had remembered my favorite dessert after all. In truth, he might as well have fed me emergency rations. No taste. No interest. Like feeding a corpse. I shoveled the ice cream.

“Let’s take leave and go to Risa.” Jake smiled at me. “Get away from the ship for a while. Just you and me.”

Just you and me. A bolt of panic shot through me. Too far! Too far to bring the pearl home. I nodded on the last bite. “As soon as I finish my research. I should get back.” I rose.

Jake intercepted me. “I’m worried about you.” He held me in his arms.

I felt his warmth, but it didn’t warm me.

“You’re not eating and you’re distant, and cranky. I know we’ve both been busy, but I can’t remember the last time we had sex.” Jake tried to look me in the eyes, so I laid my head on his chest.

Bring the pearl home. Do something or he’ll interfere. Wrap it in silk. I lifted my face and kissed his neck. Jake’s skin felt vital against my lifeless flesh. I felt his desire press into nothing. He’ll interfere. Bring the pearl home.

I kissed his neck again, and thought of The Three. They noticed. Surprise then eagerness. Bring the pearl home. I kissed Jake again. Can you do this? Wrap it in silk. I thought of Jake, and I thought of them. The corpse’s heart beat. I felt them clamor against the barrier that blocked my desire. I inhaled and braced myself against Jake’s body. Here we go. I dropped the barrier.



“Computer, record personal log for Teslus Elbrun, Stardate 2423.165.”

“Recording.”

“I’m vulnerable in sleep. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. Sleep—wake must match The Three. They match—same space, same food, same sleep, same wake.” I stare at the tremors in my right hand, and grasp it with my left to still the shaking. “Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. The Three’s desire grows. Bring the pearl home. No one knows how much. Wrap it in silk. I know. The pearl and silk are healthy. Protect them. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk.”

Something wet splashes on my hand. I look down and see a drop of blood slide off my thumb. I press and hold a sponge to my nose then wipe my hand and toss the blood-soaked material into the portable disintegrator that I now keep within arm’s reach.

“Their minds change. We want the pearl. Anticipation. Eagerness. Wrap the pearl in silk. Separating The Three–too difficult. Blocking them–too hard. Tired. Must rest. They know. I am with them. They know. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. Telepaths. Three bodies. Merger. Enlightenment. Pearl. Silk. End is near. I feel it. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk.”

I rub my eyes. “Climaxes, too many climaxes. Can’t stop them. Quakes and aftershocks. Can’t block them. Don’t want to. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. End log.”

I replayed the log because I couldn’t remember what I said. I looked strange. Haggard. I looked closer. “Computer, pause playback and zoom into my eyes.” Gray eyes stared at me. Condemned me. I looked away and exhaled. I’m close. Just a little longer. Bring the pearl home.

I rose and moved to the replicator. Focus. Focus. “Computer, make contact lenses to change the color of my eyes back to black. Use one of my retinal scans taken prior to the attack on Mekla as a color reference.”

Once my eyes looked normal, I sedated myself.



Someone laughed.

“Who’s there?” I propped myself up on the bed with my elbows and stared into the darkness. Rest had brought some relief.

“Look at you! All prepped and primed for me.” They laughed again. “Naughty boy.”

“Cameron? Rachel? Ansen? Is that you?” I asked.

“Yes, call me Onyx.” Another peel of laughter then I felt a smack on my ass.

“Hey!” I yanked the pillow from under my hips, flipped on my back and crossed my arms and legs. “Not funny!”

I felt something press against my lips–not a finger exactly, more like a thought. “Shhh. I feel your need. Your compulsion is my compulsion.”

I grabbed at the pressure on my lips; there was nothing. You’re not here are you?

“In every way that matters, I am.”

I felt something push slowly through my fingers, caress the back of my hands, coil around my arms, and lift them over my head. I gasped as my wrists pressed into the mattress. How are you doing this to me?

“You want what I want. I want what you want.”

A tendril traced my lips. “I know how you like your mouth used.” Onyx pressed on my lips.

No! I won’t betray Jake.

“You want what I want; I want what you want.”

Onyx withdrew. Relief. Longing. Loss swirled on my tongue. Please.

They kissed me again and withdrew . . . and again . . . and again.

“I want what you want.”

My body betrayed me. My lips yielded.

I arched my back and moaned against the restraint. Onyx held me down. My heart raced.

“You want what I want.”

The Pearl?

“Yes.” They turned my head exposing my neck to a warm, wet tendril that snaked toward my ear.

I . . . I don’t–not there, mmm, I can’t handle–pl . . . please, I don’t have the Pearl.

“Yet, you keep it from me.” Onyx coiled a tendril around my earlobe and grazed the rim with a feather touch.

My toes curled. I don’t understand.

“Yes, you do.”

This is wrong. We have to stop. I love Jake.

Pain cut my lower lip. Ow! Did you just bite me!

“Night after night you come to me for release. Not him.” My lower lip stretched out. Suction twisted and tangled pain and pleasure. “When he needed you, you gave your lover to me. Why?” A tendril encircled my nipple and pulled.

I don’t want to say.

Pain shot from my nipple as Onyx squeezed.

“Tell me.”

Don’t make me say it. I cried out as the pressure increased.

“Tell me.”

I wanted you to have him! I sobbed. I wanted you to take my lover! Tears spilled down my temples.

“Tell me you don’t love me!”

No! I cried. Sobs wracked my body.

Onyx released me. Soft tendrils swept away my tears. Kissed the tremors in my lips. Cradled me. Caressed my neck. Encircled my chest and moved down. Down. Down.

A whisper wafted through my mind. “Give yourself to me.”

I spread my thighs.



Personal Log for Teslus Elbrun, Stardate 2423.192:

Separation risks everything. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. They’re suspicious. They keep the pearl from us. Stop them. Pearl. We won’t let them. Silk. Quarantine with Onyx. They can’t enter. Can’t keep pearl from us. Wrap silk. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. End Log.



Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. I sat on the edge of their bed. Rachel and Ansen flanked me. The faint buzz of their quarantine fields hummed in my ears. Cameron stood between my legs, leaning over with their hands on my thighs. Their brown eyes held me.

“It’s time, Tesi.”

I swallowed. Bring the pearl home.

“Free me.”

Desire rampaged unchecked. Wrap it in silk. I panted.

“Come with me, Tesi. Join me. What I want you want. What you want I want.”

Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk.

“Yes, Tesi, free me.”

Bring the pearl home. “Com . . .” Wrap it in silk. “Com . . .”

“Yes, Tesi, free me.”

Bring the pearl home. “C o m p u t e r . . .”

“State the nature of your request.”

Wrap it in silk. “Dis . . . is . . . able . . . qua . . . quarr . . . tine . . . fffield.” Pearl. Silk.

“State which fields you wish to lower.”

“Cam–Camrun Talda . . . an . . . RRRachl Abbbrms . . . an Annnssn Luuuuuuuc.”

“Disabling quarantine fields on Cameron Taleda, Rachel Abrams, and Ansen Luc.”

They squealed and leapt onto the bed. “Join us, Tesi!”

An atom detached. Then another. And another. An exponential atomic cascade disassembled and transported Teslus Elbrun’s white eyes.



“Where is Tesi?” Onyx sat in three chairs facing Captain Beck’s desk.

Jake massaged his temples. The last few weeks had pulped him, “I’ll get to that in a moment.”

“Why can’t I see him?” asked Onyx.

Jake scanned the three bodies sitting across from him. “Which one of you should I look at . . . er, address?”

“I am one,” said Onyx.

“OK, the one in the middle then. You’re being transferred. The Federation seeks to protect the remaining–what are they calling you?” Jake picked up his PADD and read. “Trinaries. The Federation Council has backed President V’leekh’s call for the establishment of a home world for trinaries. The Betazoids don’t trust Earth to care for its own; so, until the Federation finds a suitable planet, they’ve offered sanctuary to all humans carrying trinary genes. You’ll be highly regarded on Betazed. Merged minds are the highest form of enlightenment for Betazoids. Though I suspect they also want to figure out how you impacted Teslus–”

“I’m not like that anymore,” said Onyx.

Jake nodded. “We’ll get to that too. Since you’re the only living trinary with a vital Third, Starfleet has tapped you to lead the colonization efforts.”

Onyx crossed their arms. “And if we refuse?”

Jake shrugged. “Leave Starfleet; step out of an airlock; I don’t care. In two days, you’re off my ship and out of my life forever.”

“You’re exiling me, so you can keep Tesi for yourself!”

Jake slammed his fists onto the desk. “NO ONE gets to be with him!” He closed his eyes and took three measured breaths. “The second thing I must tell you is that you're pregnant.”

Onyx stared at Jake. “Impossible.”

“I’ll let the Emergency Medical Hologram explain it. Computer, active Emergency Medical Hologram.”

The hologram appeared. “How may I be of service?”

“Hologram, ‘splain what we’ve learned about trinary reproduction.”

“Trinary human sexual reproduction occurs when the nonbinary Third’s phallix retrieves the egg from the female First and places that egg in the Third’s uterus. The male Second then penetrates the Third’s oralva and deposits semen. Sperm from the semen enters the Third’s uterus. Fluids inside the uterus dissolve the sperm’s cellular structure and combine the Second’s DNA with DNA from the Third. The combined DNA fertilizes the First’s egg. The embryo gestates in the Third’s womb, where the appropriate mix of hormones fosters healthy development. Gestation period–”

“That’s enough; end Hologram.” Jake tilted back in his chair. “The Betazoids have offered prenatal care; however, as you are the first known trinary and the first to reproduce in perhaps centuries, your health care will be a series of guesses.”

“Where’s Tesi? I want to talk to Tesi!”

“The love of my life is under the care of a Betazoid healer on a ship headed to Betazed at maximum warp. They don’t know if they can revive him from the coma.”

“What happened to him?” asked Onyx.

“The current theory is that the unification of your minds overwhelmed and scorched his. I begged for his extraction before . . .” Jake wiped his wet eyes and inhaled sharply. “The extraction protocol that the Betazoids gave us for emergency transport underestimated the potential damage. In short, for the sake of science, they left Teslus in too long. That he labored toward his fate makes it worse. Contravening your nature cost him his mind. Now he’s gone.”

Onyx cried out. “I never meant to hurt him! I love him!”

“Process this on your own. The counselor is available. Dismissed!”

The hour was late, yet the light outside was still bright.

Another beautiful day, Darin thought, as he watched the sunbeams dance between tree branches agitated by a gentle breeze, diffusing the scent of lilacs all across the university campus. /So much like Ashalla/ He appreciated the tranquility of the moment for a few seconds more before turning back, straightening up his varsity jacket, and stepping inside the restaurant.

Built in the 1950s Darin's preferred establishment in the vicinity of his college, Five and Dime, still even half a century later kept its charming "typical fifties diner" style. Walls between elongated windows were adorned with framed tacky movie posters of science-fiction classics, like The Day the Earth Stood Still, Missile to the Moon, It Came from Outer Space, and Far Beyond the Stars, adapted from a novel by Darin's favorite author, Benny Russell. The song Classic by The Knocks played on a jukebox in the background.



Darin headed straight for the bar counter, sat at his usual spot, and pulled out a textbook /not a padd/ with the intent to study for the next day's seminar.

The corpulent waitress behind the bar barely glanced in Darin's direction. "G'day, yung man. What c'n I get yu?" she said /with almost Vulcan-like indifference in her basso profondo voice/.

"Sul sul, Opaka, the usual will do."

"Darin, my dear!" she smiled broadly, "I didna recognize yu dere right away. Dat's cause yu grow more handsome evry day, 'fcourse. So, how's ma favrit customa doin'?

"Common," Darin smirked playfully, "I happen to know that every customer is your favorite customer ...and I'm great, thanks."

"Gud to hear, ma boy. Soooooou, one hot mug of /raktajino/ coming right up."

/One what?/

"Ah, right." Darin felt confused by something he couldn't name. A weird dissonance of some kind. "A coffee, obviously," he muttered, scoffed at his own momentary bewilderment, and quickly dived his head into the textbook.

As she poured down the hot fragrant liquid Opaka leaned over the bar and peaked at the new subject of Darin's attention.

"Film theory handbook, uh?! /By da Profets!/ How are yu eva planning on making a livin' wit' an education like dat?" she said. "First a d'gree in classical philosophy and now dis? Do yu wish to end up in a sanctuary district?"

"Excuse me...?" Darin pretended to take offense and straightened up on a bar stool. "Film ART is the most defining cultural expression of the century. And the culture we expose ourselves to defines us, our very identities. So, it may not be a science or engineering, but trust me that this," he said and waved with the textbook in the air, "is just as essential."

"Oooooh, pard'n my heresy, dear," Opaka raised both hands in a mock giving-up gesture, "I stand c'rrected."

They both shared a laugh.

Darin always enjoyed the friendly banter with the wise bartender. Sometimes he felt as if he was learning far more between the lines of his small talk with Opaka and other friends at Five and Dime than at school. Nevertheless, he loved his studies. With every turn of a page, a whole world of knowledge presented itself for discovering. His routine provided a sense of stability and safety while the curriculum offered sustenance for Darin's naturally quizzical temperament.

Between chapters three and four, it occurred to him suddenly, that he was happy.

He never considered himself happy before and with regard to the tough upbringing he never expected to be. The finding came with a surprise. A happy surprise. He raised his head and glanced around. The place, the people, the situation, it all was simple, yet very meaningful to Darin. A simple life. An ideal.

His eyes met with the cute boy's sitting next to him. Darin wondered. How could have he overlooked this cute kid till now? Who's the mysterious stranger? /where is he? where am I?/

The other boy returned his gaze intensely for long enough to make Darin certain there was a mutual interest.

Darin smiled back with what he was hoping was his charming smile number one. Then perhaps, he realized, he could become happier yet. With just a little friendly affection in his life... or more than friendly. He kept wondering. To love... and be loved back. Hmmmmm.



An annoying buzzing sound interrupted Darin's musing. He scanned his surroundings with his eyes but couldn't find its source. No one else seemed to pay attention to the mysterious ringing.

"REGENERATION CYCLE CONCLUDED."

/What?/

It's called an alarm clock! he suddenly realized, but wasn't sure what it meant.

The world dissolved around him and Darin opened his eyes which he didn't even realize had been shut. He saw a darkened interior of a cramped storage room. The haze in his mind began to slowly dissipate, giving way to something resembling understanding. Darin braced against the inner frame of the regeneration alcove, his wobbly legs almost betraying him. It took another minute to accept these new /real this time/ circumstances.

It's a ship.
I'm on a ship.
My ship in fact.
In the future. Which is present in fact.

Rrrrrright.

With his mind finally centered he had to calm his body next. He quickly reached for the hypo prepared on a nearby console and pressed it in his neck, right behind the left ear. The drug mixture immediately started pushing against the rising nausea attack.



"Kosst!" he cursed. Waking up was getting more painful each time.

He checked the monitor connected to the alcove. The readings showed optimal values, yet Darin knew the parameters needed adjusting. The illusion wasn't whole yet – real life was still spilling into the sim at moments, threatening to break it. The memory inhibitors allowed a few glimpses of his real life and identity to manifest inside the simulation. If only Darin's engineering skills enabled him to calibrate it to perfection. But this was Borg tech, a different level of technology, somewhat beyond him.

She would know how to make it right. It was her idea after all. Or... okay, not exactly...

Ever since the chance encounter with Captain Seven of Enterprise-G at The Captain's Table bar Darin was enthralled by her tales of Unimatrix Zero, a simulated universe that some Borg drones could use as an escape from the horror or their real existence. It inspired him. Longing for a similar experience he had begun experimenting with linking a ponean synaptic stimulator with a cortical processing subunit.

Dreams are fine, safe for an occasional sleep paralysis episode /altered states, beware the other side/. A good way to relax and get the stress out of the system. But how much better would it be, instead of sleeping, to each night enter a whole different world? To live a whole different life, carefree and serene? And most importantly – entirely authentic.

The sounds of red alert rumbled through the cargo bay.



Emergencies were so common lately that Darin had almost gotten used to the wailing sirens. Accent on the 'almost'. He forced himself into a confident posture, quickly slipped out of the tight black cybernetic suit designed to help his body regenerate even without implants, pulled a uniform top and trousers on /no time for undies/, and briskly marched through the door into the red-lit corridor, heading for the bridge. As he walked he felt the rush, the constant tension of every waking moment, coming back. He imagined the cortisol spiking dramatically in his body. The excess energy circulating through his system. The fight or flight mode that his circumstances forced him to live through almost permanently.

Exiting the turbolift door to the bridge Darin waved off the officer of the watch before she could greet him. /No time for formalities./



"Report. What's the fuss about this time?"

"Another reality vortex appeared in the vicinity. Borg ships incoming." came the answer from the tactical station.

On the main viewscreen, Darin observed at least two dozen of Borg cubes exiting a tear in spacetime on a background of fluidic space and positioning themselves in a harrowingly symmetrical formation with an especially big tactical fusion cube taking the center position. Here they come again. The siege goes on.

"Tactical analysis?"

"27 cubes in total, arming weapons. Starships Solomon, Camelot, Byzantium, Hyperion, Leonidas, and Parsival forming up, taking positions port and sideboard. Thirteen aliance warbirds are joining them. Also, Harmony is moving in to support us."

Ah, our new Aetherian allies, Darin thought. Despite their considerable aid in the multidimensional war with the Borg Kingdom, he couldn't help not to trust them. Something about them was off. Dangerously so. But in the present circumstances, Darin couldn't afford the luxury of picking friends.

"Alright then," Darin said finally in his pep-talk voice, "Outnumbered, but we are used to that. We can beat these odds. At least until reinforcements arrive."

Overriding the ship's comms an enemy message sounded: "WE ARE THE BORG. RESISTANCE WILL BE ANNIHILATED."

Darin's breath got stuck in his throat. /No time for happiness./

How long will you be able to keep going like this? he asked himself. How far is the breaking point?

He remembered the sunny park outskirts of Five and Dime.

/The trees, the breeze, the light./

"Your orders, sir?"

/The smell of moba pie. The smile of a friend./

"Battlestations!" Darin commanded finally and sat in the central chair.

"Real life is overrated," he mumbled silently.

STAMP

It started as a childhood dream, an ambition to explore the universe, to seek life and new adventures, to learn and to go ever forward.

Looking down at the pile of papers Bareth wonder just what had happened to that dream, STAMP* another paper out of the 1000's he's forced to inkblot every day since his capture... every day, was it 9 years or 10 Batheth paused to think.

Slumping back into his wooden chair he looked around the room albeit a metal box with no windows no decor, simply a desk, a chair and a bed. never knocking what time it was or day it was, his only excitement was to go into the toilet to freshen up in the freezing cold water.
His Captor, Sub-Admiral Knick.. as he calls himself beams into the room twice a day to deliver and pick up the papers Bareth is forced to stamp, dropping of dry food rations as he does.

Knick has only ever said a few words, not giving any form of emotion away, yes I could over power him like ive tried many times when he beams into the room for his 1 minute visits, but those attempts were futile, Knick was a holographic projection.

The thought has always been there to end this every day life of stamping freshly produced papers that he couldn't understand what was written, to end his life giving up no hope of recue or escape years ago. This was his life, this is his life, this is hell.
STAMP*


#WritingChallenge