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Entry tags:
arrival . ota
Hugh Cambridge is partway through an analysis of an artifact - an old one, part of an extended paper that he'd never finished - when the transition comes.
At first, he assumes the ship's entered some sort of anomaly, and he turns away from the viewport (the stars have shifted, how odd), his hand moving to his combadge. A quick touch, and he starts, "Cambridge to -"
This isn't Voyager. In fact, this is the Ten-Forward of a Galaxy Class starship, unless he misses his mark. Populated with a few handfuls of people, some out of uniform, some in uniform, but those in are wearing the style that was in use twenty years earlier. Cambridge's uniform has shoulders of a grey-purple, and the turtleneck inside is medical/science blue. His combadge is thinner and sleeker.
"- Oh, bugger," finishes Cambridge. It's an illusion or it's time travel - neither of those bodes well.
At first, he assumes the ship's entered some sort of anomaly, and he turns away from the viewport (the stars have shifted, how odd), his hand moving to his combadge. A quick touch, and he starts, "Cambridge to -"
This isn't Voyager. In fact, this is the Ten-Forward of a Galaxy Class starship, unless he misses his mark. Populated with a few handfuls of people, some out of uniform, some in uniform, but those in are wearing the style that was in use twenty years earlier. Cambridge's uniform has shoulders of a grey-purple, and the turtleneck inside is medical/science blue. His combadge is thinner and sleeker.
"- Oh, bugger," finishes Cambridge. It's an illusion or it's time travel - neither of those bodes well.
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He grimaces. Bugger is right.
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The idea that this would be a bad idea or severely dangerous would never occur to him. Trembling before gods or powerful beings was not a concept he was familiar with.
"But, on your other guess, yes. I'm from Eire and the year is 2015."
Eire, not Ireland. And his accent is definitely very Irish.
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"Well, no wonder," he says, mostly to himself. And that puts out most conventional solutions to the problem. At least, from what he remembers, Q tends to put things back together extremely quickly, especially fast given that Q operates on the time scale of an immortal being.
"The year was 2015," he corrects, "most people just call it Ireland, and the more important question is what year is it now."
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That seems to be a common reaction, Kale's noticing.
"Which most people are you talking to? Because I've never heard the name before and my da's king of Eire," Kale said, mostly amused. Because he's very sure he'd know what most people would call his own country.
"As for the date, I haven't a fucking clue to that one. Sorry."
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What can he say, he was raised English.
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"What? You're saying some time travel mishap wiped out the monarchy?" Kale looks faintly alarmed here. Because obviously there should be one and anything else is just wrong.
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His tone is flat.
"In the timeline with which I am familiar, Ireland withdrew from Britain by treaty in the 1920s, and proceeded to form a representative democracy, and one that lasted quite a while, and still exists in somewhat limited form centuries later. Clearly, your understanding is based in that of a different timeline, whereas I just assumed anyone calling it Eire was pretentious."
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The idea of Britain actually being in charge of Eire for any period of time is absolutely offensive and it shows a little bit on his face. Also the pretentious part.
"Yeah... okay... I think I got that now because Eire was never under Britain's control," he said before adding, "This place is really weird."
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It is in Kale's favor; unfortunately for the sake of the conversation, Cambridge is moody, startled and taken off-guard, and not looking forward to reporting to the commander of the Federation's flagship. He's avoided actually officially important duties like this for a great deal of his career. He only even makes an effort on his appearance (shoes unscuffed, uniform relatively unwrinkled) out of earned respect for Voyager's captain.
Besides all of that, he's in the singularly unenviable position of 1) knowing that what he has seen and heard, if placed in the ears of certain officials, could avert actual billions of deaths, and 2) knowing that, if he does all of that wrong and the timeline unfolds too differently, the entire multiverse could collapse.
Yes, he's already thinking about changing the timeline. He works quickly.
"Your name?"
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Wait until Kale brings up magic...
Having been in the military and not really much for following rules, Kale would completely understand. And he would also understand the desire to change the timeline to save lives - as long as it doesn't erase his world, of course.
"Kale McCallum," Kale says, offering a gloved hand. Interesting, perhaps, though Kale has mentioned his father is king, he doesn't use 'prince' in his introduction.
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"It's... a symbiotic relationship to keep the land healthy. The McCallums protect the land and the royalty tends to it. One couldn't do their job without the other... and they both think they're better than the other. I'm probably not explaining this very well."
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"Apparently they're keeping us all in quarantine and then once we've had our check ups we get to meander around the ship." He tilted his head briefly. "Since it looks like you belong in this world - the uniform is somewhat similar - you might want to talk to the people in charge. Um. The captain is Picard, if I remember correctly."
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But 'quarantine' can't be precisely the right word, can it? Medical quarantine, at least, involves level 9 or 10 force fields and isolation.
Cambridge, at least, isn't much danger. He doubts there's any pathogen he's picked up and carried in the fifteen years since this date that would affect the ship at large. Furthermore, any disease in the past is probably one he would already have had exposure to. It's the ones from hundreds of years ago that are the real risks: they could carry diseases since eliminated, such as herpes or smallpox or immunodeficiency virus.
But most of that is relatively easy to deal with. The medical facilities on the Starfleet flagship wouldn't have much trouble with outbreaks of conventional disease.
So, why any kind of quarantine? Probably an effort at keeping the newcomers under control: enough freedom to feel out the lay of the land, so to speak, but not enough to cause any trouble. A reasonable and prudent gesture, if there are too many arrivals to monitor individually, and, additionally, if there is no reasonable way to send people back - in other words, no other way to keep them placated.
Cambridge sighs.
"Enterprise D, then," he says. "Not far back enough for Rachel Garrett."
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"I have no idea who that is, so I'll take your word for it. But I did hear some people say it was the Enterprise D," he said helpfully. "Um...around..." and he rattles off the Stardate.
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Cambridge stops, abruptly, and visibly pales. Wolf 359. It hasn't happened yet. Obviously, it hasn't happened get, given that it was in 2367. But it's approaching. And: rapidly.
He sits down, not terribly gracefully.
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He pulls a flask out of his coat and offers it to the man. It's some Damn Good Whiskey. Very strong. Really, insanely strong.
From what Kale can tell, this man is clearly familiar with this world - their uniforms are similar enough and he's heard of the captain. So, there had to be something about the date that got to the man.
"Are you okay?" he asked in concern.
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"Ooh," he says. "That's wonderful." He considers himself something of a connoisseur. He proceeds to take another nip, before passing it back.
His jaw stays tight, though.
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Apparently no one has told him that making stills isn't a thing he should be doing yet.
Not that this would actually stop him.
A rule like that is for other people.
"But... apparently not quite enough."
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He needs to figure out how much he's willing to alter the timeline, and - quickly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a couple of security officers enter Ten-Forward.
"Probably my cue," he says. "I'll be taking my leave, now."
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"Good luck!"