Vice Admiral Quinn Reynolds - There You Are
Quinn Reynolds
((Research and Development Wing, Gibaria Outpost))
The situation was even more unusual than Quinn had expected, and that was saying something for a search and rescue mission in a facility drilling tunnels between dimensions. Their search for Doctor Gamoya had led them through a trashed security room, down a hidden corridor, and now to a dark room with a woman weeping on an unsettling, exact repeat.
She looked back toward the door. Right or not, she couldn't see much more reason to delay. Spelvan had scanned and checked his reports, finding no additional medical precautions, and was currently dual-wielding tricorders like a scientific ninja. There wasn't much else to do tactically either, and Valek had made it clear he wanted to get inside to secure the room.
Reynolds: We'll get this door open, ::she called through to the other room,:: and we'll help you.
Unknown Woman: ::In a low whisper,:: Yes, I'm here. In the back ...I'm...very injured and ....it is possible I've been infected. Please help, I cannot move much due to the extreme pain. ::She groaned softly,:: Please...
Quinn grimaced as the Kobliad repeated the appeal, word for word, for a third time. Not a good sign in any frame of measurement. There was little else to do except hope the woman wasn't past saving. And maybe that she didn't have claws capable of rending solid walls.
Valek slung his rifle over his shoulders, and Spelvan put his tricorders away, nodding to his fellow Vulcan.
Valek: Ensign, apply force from the opposite side. Minimal displacement should be sufficient to gain entry.
Spelvan: Understood. I would also like to note that I believe this individual is caught in a temporal repetition distortion. That is, a time loop.
Quinn didn't say anything, responding in the way senior officers often did when faced with a surprise. A weary recognition that the universe never failed to find interesting ways to collapse into entropy. She gave the two men room as they braced, ready to open the mechanical door with elbow grease and the blessings of a high-gravity homeworld.
Valek: Ensign, upon your readiness, we will commence a countdown from three. Admiral, the door will be open momentarily.
She nodded, and after some very restrained grunts of effort and the scratching of metallic protest, the door was finally open. Valek swept his rifle-mounted torch across the room, shadows fleeing and light catching on the sharp edges of computer panels and foreign equipment.
Finally, it fell on a woman. Unmistakable a Kobliad, just as the tricorders had said, and crouched on the floor next to a tall cylinder that ran from floor to ceiling. Covered in odd panelling, it spat out a spark, a small mote of light soaring through the shadows until it hissed out of existence. The room smelled of iron and chemicals, and the ozone bite of barely controlled electricity.
Injury was evident, the woman's arm wrapped in the cloth taken from the other scientist, not quite staunching the bleed. Vacant-eyed, she repeated the same plea for help they had heard several times before.
Spelvan: We should not go any closer. My readings — and my eyes — indicate a dangerous temporal anomaly.
Valek: A temporal anomaly. Intriguing. It appears this facility was engaged in the manipulation of highly hazardous technology.
Spelvan: It seems this mechanism generates a time reversal field. I believe she was attempting to use it to... regress her personal injuries and possible genetic mutation. An ingenious if dangerous undertaking, especially considering that something went wrong.
Reynolds: It's hard to see what use it would be for either studying extremophiles or extra-dimensional life. ::She shook her head.:: Unless they were trying to do something else, and this was an incidental discovery. Like finding the mould on your bread can kill bacteria.
Or maybe it was related, and this was some overly-ambitious way to study evolution? She'd certainly heard and seen stranger things. The scientists here were admirable in one sense; they refused to be intimidated by big ideas. The problem with big ideas was just how much room there was inside them for things to go wrong.
Valek: Attempting communication in her condition may inhibit a viable response.
Reynolds: I wonder if she can even see or hear us, if she's trapped in a temporal loop.
As if to punctuate the point, the scientist repeated her statement once again. It wasn't a long loop, then, barely a couple of minutes. She thought briefly of Walter, who'd once lost a sizable amount of time to a similar effect, albeit transporter-related rather than whatever this was. She took a breath, and glanced at the other two officers. Valek was as unreadable as ever, a paradigm of Vulcan control. Spelvan looked a little more shaky, hairline fractures in the facade. He took a deep breath and looked toward her.
Spelvan: Have you brushed up on your temporal mechanics lately, Admiral?
Valek: ::He looked at Spelvan, then her.:: Ensign, my understanding of temporal mechanics is limited; therefore, my ability to assist is limited.
Quinn paused, a small frown building on her brow. An innocent enough question, to be sure, but it dredged up the memories of a year spent in an alternate timeline where the Borg had conquered the Federation.
Reynolds: Yes.
Something changed. The air hummed. The hairs on the back of Quinn's neck rose. The cylinder whined and spat out a handful of sparks.
Then the woman's eyes changed, rolling back and then flooding with black, like ink poured into water. Spittle collected at the corners of her mouth. She rose from her crouch, awkwardly, stiffly, as though every muscle was tensed and used in the wrong way.
Reynolds: ::Low,:: Although I'm not sure it's going to be necessary.
Spelvan: Response
The Kobliad stood there now, back against the cylinder, looking not at them, but through them. The weeping had fallen silent, and although tears still glistened on her face, it was smoothed free of pain.
Valek barely shifted. It was, perhaps, just a minor readjustment in focus, but she could sense his alertness had sharpened.
Then the scientist raised her hand, pointing toward them. She spoke again, a thin and eerie whisper scratching its way out of her throat, and when the words finally became clear, Valek raised his phaser rifle.
Unknown Woman: ::In a ghostly, scratchy voice:: WE ... ARE .... HERE .... WE ... ARE... .HERE ... WE ... ARE ... HERE ...
Reynolds: Who—
The cylinder's whine briefly peaked into a scream, and then with a metallic thud that felt like physical push, it spat out a shower of sparks and fell into silence. It seemed to Quinn that whatever time had accumulated outside the temporal anomaly was suddenly thrust upon the woman. Red vines erupted out of her arm wound at a startling speed, wrapping around the limb, across her shoulder and throat and head, hardening into the same root-like claws they'd seen in the corridor.
The Kobliad, her eyes still black as pitch, ducked past the aim of Valek's rifle faster than any thought or reflex should have allowed for. The same words still wrestled their way out of her lungs as she brought up her arm, claws wicked in the glancing torchlight. In a fortuitous act of self-preservation, Quinn untidily threw herself aside, the claws raking through the space she'd occupied a half-second earlier.
Spelvan / Valek: Response
Strong and quick, but not coordinated. The same awkward movement they'd earlier observed persisted, legs not sure how to take a step, torso overextending before recovery, eyes not quite tracking the people in the room while the rest of the body moved.
Reynolds: Stun or sedate her, whatever works. ::She skittered back again as the sound of her voice drew the attention of the Kobliad, or whatever was puppeteering her.:: No one's to risk getting hurt.
Spelvan / Valek: Response
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
T238401QR0