TEST DRIVE #3 - Alien Bazaar/Ten Forward

[tenforward_m]

#1

Option 001. Alien planet, marketplace: So you're new to this whole space travel thing. The ship is cool and all, but there are hundreds of alien worlds out there. You want to explore. To see what the universe REALLY looks like.

Well, here's your chance! Your first stop is this lovely indoor marketplace, which looks kind of like a mall. There are stalls one after the other as far as the eye can see, and they sell all kinds of things: food, clothes, trinkets, animals, fabrics, jewelry, perfumes, books, etc etc. Some things look human, easy to recognize; other things look very alien. There are two levels, and constant chatter as people hawk their wares and discuss prices.

Do you want to explore? Poke at the weird shops? Buy a gift for a new friend? Flirt with someone at the food court? Maybe you see a pickpocket, and must run to the aid of the victim. Maybe there's some other villainy afoot. After all, a crowded marketplace is a good place for villains to lurk, causing trouble. Whether you're a hero or just an unassuming traveler, there proves to be some adventure for you on this planet.


2

Option 002. Aboard the Enterprise, Ten Forward: You have no idea what just happened. One minute you were home, and now you're on a spaceship, in the middle of a crowded room. It looks like a bar. There are people eating and drinking, some in uniform, others not. Some are clearly aliens.

You've managed to land in Ten Forward a long bar with barstools and a bartender, tables sprinkled throughout, and the far wall is nothing but windows out to space. It looks like a nice lounge, low conversation making the room hum.

Better ask some questions and find out where you are, or just tap the closest person on the shoulder and try to make friends. The bar is open.

Comments

[stark_spangled]

Authority is easy to recognize. It doesn't matter whether it's US Army, S.H.I.E.L.D., Starfleet, or as in this case something else completely. It's not the uniform that matters, it's the way they hold their shoulders back and the look in their eyes; how they appraise a room, and where they plant their feet.

So Steve stands slowly and respectfully, and nods to the officer. He clasps his hands behind his back and stands at ease, giving away his own rank despite being in civvies.

"You lost, sir?" he asks.

[dreams_dont_die]

Since he lost his crew and his civilization and the entire rest of the High Guard, there haven't been very many occasions when he's walked into a room and somebody's called him sir. An occasional person who recognizes his uniform as High Guard will, but to most of their allies he's Captain and to his friends he's Dylan. Tyr's about the only person who calls him "sir" on any sort of a regular basis.

And half the time, he's clearly thinking something else.

So Dylan looks around, and finds the guy easily enough. He's not wearing military clothing, but everything about him is military, the quiet respect in his tone, the easy but alert stance, the steadiness in his gaze.

"A little. What ship is this?"

[stark_spangled]

He nods softly.

"USS Enterprise-D," he answers. "A Galaxy-class starship issued under Starfleet command, in the service of the United Federation of Planets."

The words are to the point and concise, and about all Steve really knows. He makes it a point of knowing where he is, but the Enterprise isn't his home or anything close to it, and if Dylan is looking carefully he'll see hints of Steve's discomfort.

"Anything sound familiar?" he asks, betting that the answer will be 'no'.

[dreams_dont_die]

The young man's polite, respectful, and gives Dylan exactly the report he'd expect if he'd asked a member of his High Guard crew for a report, save the salute and the sir.

Except that nothing in it makes sense.

Not the name of the ship. Not the class. Not the name of the organization he gives, or the Federation he says it serves.

Nothing.

Nothing.

And that chills him.

Because he's had the world change around him in moments before, and it cost him everything he had and knew.

"No. I'm Captain Dylan Hunt of the High Guard, commander of the Glorious Heritage Class starship Andromeda Ascendant. In the service of restoring the Systems Commonwealth."

He's watching the young man for his reaction, to see if the slight hints of tension in his face heighten or lessen, or change in any way of recognition.

"Does that?"

[stark_spangled]

Young man? That's funny. Steve would look smug if Dylan had said that out loud, but he hadn't. So the look Captain Dylan Hunt receives is exactly the opposite of what he's hoping for. Steve's brow beetles, gaze slipping thirty degrees to the floor.

More words he doesn't recognize.

"No," he says. At least he has met other people from 20th Century Earth here, including his partner, so he isn't totally adrift. In that respect he does offer Dylan his sympathy, but he wishes like hell there was an authority here he recognized. "I'm sorry. The words may sound familiar to someone else here, but I'm just a kid from Brooklyn. 20th, 21st Century Earth."

He drops the stance, bridging the few feet between them to offer a handshake in greeting. "Captain Steve Rogers, US Army, currently under contract with S.H.I.E.L.D.. I'm willing to guess the way I ended up here is pretty much the same way you did."

[dreams_dont_die]

"21st century Earth?"

That's before Earth became a Drago-Kazov slave world. Before it even made first contact with the Perseid. It's ...

It's more than three thousand years ago.

"That's before Earth joined the Commonwealth," he says, voice soft. Joined the Commonwealth and spread its people out across the Known Worlds. Even to Tarn Vedra, the Commonwealth's seat. Dylan's ancestors.

Three hundred years was bad enough.

"What year is this?"

He doesn't have Andromeda here to scan the stars and tell him this time. This time, he doesn't even have his ship. That explains why this ship looks nothing like any of the classes of ships he's familiar with; not only is it not Commonwealth, it's from millennia ago.

Dylan's eying the room warily when the man holds out his hand, but he turns his attention back to Captain Rogers to shake, mostly managing to make himself smile, because he likes the guy and whatever's going on is probably not his fault.

(But three thousand years.)

"How was that, Captain Rogers?"

[stark_spangled]

Dylan earns himself another soft frown. Steve's used to being part of history, but his planet? Not so much.

"I've heard the same thing about the Federation," he murmurs, keeping his expression friendly and his shake firm. "To be totally frank, Captain Hunt, my Earth may be completely different from the one you, or anyone else here, knows. There's talk of parallel universes and alternate timelines."

He stands akimbo, and were it with anyone else the pose would strike a visage of authority. "I was pulled aboard about six weeks ago from D.C., while I was on my way to headquarters. No warning, no explanation. Just one minute underground, and the next out in space. When I got here they said it was the 24th century, and we're floating out in space somewhere near something called the 'Neutral Zone'. The best anyone can tell, this is the work of some omnipotent alien species bending time and space."

[dreams_dont_die]

That is so far beyond what he knows how to deal with that he rubs a hand into his hair, making its front lift strangely through his fingers for a moment before he lowers it. Okay. Alternate timelines. Trance came back from an alternate timeline to try it again, didn't she?

"Dylan," he corrects, quietly, his handshake firm, matching Captain Rogers', his smile small but warm.

His eyes turn upward, contemplating the room for a moment. "So," he continues, softly, "this is a timeline where this United Federation of Planets is in place of the Systems Commonwealth. Because if this were my timeline, by the 24th century, this would be a High Guard ship."

He lets out a long breath.

"That is not the best news I've had all day, Captain. Until a few moments ago, I was on board my ship in CY 10088." He does a moment's calculation.

"Which in Earth time is five thousand, one hundred and ... sixty-eight."

[stark_spangled]

He regards Captain Hunt with a small smile. "Steve."

Out here, there's no reason to stand on protocol. His rank is meaningless on this ship, as is the name "Captain America". Dylan seems like a decent guy, and even if Steve doesn't recognize any of the organizations he is talking about, there's an inborn camaraderie between servicemen.

"Tell me about it," he says. "Getting stuck in space wasn't exactly high priority for me. Assuming time is passing back home, my superior officers are not going to be happy with me. But at least I only have a couple hundred years to catch up on. I can't even get my head around 5168 as a year."

Or around the concept of Earth becoming some blip on the map of a larger commonwealth, when back where Steve just came from humans can't stop fighting over it long enough to push out into space. "Maybe you'd like to sit, sir."