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writesandramblings · 7 years

Text

The Captain’s Secret - p.66

“Past and Present Tense”

A/N: This chapter cover the events of episode 7, "Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad." Also, revised a paragraph in chapter 61 – Ctrl-F "mutilated" for the new edition. I had already written that bit months ago, but it accidentally got punted into the prewritten section of this chapter and I just found it again. Just a little echo of a ghost from the past... (You may have already read the revised paragraph depending.)

Also, the fortune that is drawn in this chapter was 100% a random, "pick one and use it" draw that just happened to be unbelievably and unforgivably apropos to the theme. I was so shocked I forgot the sentence I was in the middle of writing when I opened it. Apparently, fate wants me to write this fanfic just as much as it wants Lorca to stay in command of his ship.

Finally, this is a long chapter. I considered splitting it, but there didn't seem a point where it made sense to. I give you an (overly) extended look into the antics of non-Michael Burnham characters during the episode.

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << Part 65 - The Stars, Broken Part 67 - Einstein on the Beach >>

O'Malley came to the bridge, which was unusual, and Lorca spoke to him in the ready room again. The colonel was as high-strung and judgmental as ever. He crossed his arms as he stood across from Lorca and declined a fortune cookie.

"Am I to understand Admiral Cornwell's been taken by Klingons and we're not going to rescue her?"

"Those are not our orders," said Lorca smoothly.

"So, Cornwell ordered us to rescue you, and we did, and then our orders were not to rescue Sarek, but we did that anyway, and now our orders are not to rescue Cornwell and we're suddenly doing what Starfleet Command wants?"

Lorca crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. This was much the same as Saru's objection, but Saru was not so fearless as to pose these objections in the form of an argument to Lorca directly. "We're here to win a war, not rescue every lost soul."

"Well you damn well could've fooled me as that's largely what we've been doing these past six months. You personally, might I add."

"I thought you didn't like Cornwell," pointed out Lorca.

"I don't, but that doesn't mean I want her tortured by Klingons."

"I was tortured by Klingons. It wasn't so bad."

O'Malley's mouth fell open and his arms uncrossed. "Gabriel!" For a moment, O'Malley sounded like Lorca's mother might have, had she been prone to chastising Lorca in the tone of a sixty-year-old British woman.

"Look," said Lorca, dropping the levity. "This is what Cornwell would have wanted. Following the rules and waiting for orders. She's spent most of the past six months telling me to do just that."

"You've picked an awfully convenient time to start doing what Cornwell wants."

Lorca stared. "Are we going to have a problem here, colonel?"

O'Malley exhaled and shook his head softly. "I'm just very disappointed in you, is all." He stood in silent consideration for a moment. "You know, I've mostly agreed with everything you've done up till now. Usually you do to the right thing, just in the wrong way, and for the first time I find you doing the wrong thing in the right way and I honestly don't know what to make of it. I don't like what it says about you as a person that you'd let one of your oldest friends suffer like this simply for the purposes of keeping your ship."

"She was my friend," said Lorca. "Past tense. And out of respect for that, we are following Starfleet's orders." Each of the last few words was said with pointed emphasis indicating Lorca had no interest in being further argued with on this subject.

"If you're going to be like this, then perhaps you'd better count me in the past tense as well."

They stared at each other, neither backing down. Then something occurred to Lorca and he scowled in disgust and looked away.

O'Malley squinted at him. "What's that look for?"

"What look?"

"That look on your face right now."

"I don't know, Mac, why don't you tell me what it looks like."

"If I knew that would I be asking?" They were going in circles.

Lorca broke the pattern. He clenched his jaw in anger directed mostly at himself. "I suppose now you're gonna take up Cornwell's cause." Worse, he had given O'Malley enough ammunition to do just that. His intent in the telling had been to make O'Malley see his side, take his side, and it had worked, but now Lorca was uncertain where O'Malley's loyalties lay: with his principles, or with Lorca himself.

O'Malley looked insulted. "What? I'm disappointed in you, I'm not going to betray you. I know how hard it was for you to tell me any of what you did. I'm certainly not going to use it against you. It'd destroy my reputation, for starters." O'Malley sighed. "Just give me some time, will you? I need to process this."

O'Malley left the ready room. Lorca took a fortune cookie and crushed it in his hand, eating the pieces and dropping the paper unread into the trash. He quietly put a hold on any and all outbound communications from O'Malley and Allan, just in case. In doing so, Lorca noticed Allan had not sent or received a single transmission in all his time on Discovery. Unusual.

As Culber was not permitted into Lab 26, he had to wait outside with Allan for Mischkelovitz to emerge. When she did, she looked at Culber with obvious suspicion as to what he was doing on her doorstep.

Culber managed to be as friendly, cheerful, and charming as anyone could be, especially given the adversarial stance Mischkelovitz had taken. "Dr. Mischkelovitz, I was wondering if you could help me with something?"

All that charm and she still looked at him like he had three heads and two of them were shooting fire at her. "Pel'tra kas-kotiin kelmatro sai-on," she said darkly.

Culber had no idea how to respond to that.

Standing behind her, Allan apparently did. "Melly," he said, "je kranna kos'bri-kaa. Se patro kii'kay'an?"

Mischkelovitz turned to him. "Je mohs ke'barato, se patriik maroten."

Allan replied, "Kesse na iil me trohs baraal. Pelta!" Then he smiled at Mischkelovitz.

With a scowl, Mischkelovitz said, "Fine, Lan! But only because you asked." She turned back to Culber. "What do you want?"

Her eyes lit up when she saw the design of the implant. "Ah!" she went. "This is terrible!"

They were standing in sickbay at Culber's workstation. As Stamets was now the computational interface of the spore drive, Culber was hoping to ease the difficulty of his husband's connection to the drive with an implant so that the dangerous, painful system they had recovered from the Glenn could be rendered obsolete, but the technology was slightly beyond Culber's expertise. "I was hoping you could help me refine it," said Culber. "Tweak the design a little?"

When Mischkelovitz looked at Culber this time, her eyes were alight with enthusiasm and there was absolutely no trace of anything negative in her expression or demeanor. "Absolutely! Let's do it." For all that she was standoffish and surly around people she had not accepted into her inner circle, once presented with something she liked, she was entirely won over, like a reluctant child bribed with a new toy.

Culber's initial design for the implant was entirely too big to be practical. They began by refining it in virtual form to reduce its size and complexity. There were several factors to consider. First, the needs of the spore drive itself, which Mischkelovitz seemed unusually familiar with. Second, the features Culber wanted the implant to have, for safety and in the event of a medical emergency. Third, the limits of the technology they could produce aboard Discovery on such short notice.

Mischkelovitz was quite happy and friendly when she had a task to focus on. She also seemed only halfway aware of Culber's presence, even though he was standing right next to her and working on the same project. She chattered away to herself, saying things like, "We have to beroute the riomatter relay through the transventral section in order to ensure uninterrupted frow legulation..."

"Sorry, what?" asked Culber, but Mischkelovitz seemed not to hear him and continued her rambling obliviously. Apparently her use of "we" did not refer to Culber.

"If we switch the configuration of the nanotubes, then we can responsively adjust the row flate to compensate for the constriction mechanically rather than computationally..."

At other times, she seemed overly aware of Culber.

"You're married to him, right?" she suddenly asked. Even though she did not specify Stamets, it was obvious who the implant was for and there was no one else she might be referring to.

"That's right," said Culber.

"Mm," went Mischkelovitz and lapsed into silence, her gaze darkening.

Culber studied her carefully. She was staring intently at a fixed point in space. She had to be thinking about her own deceased husband, which was probably not the healthiest or most productive thing for her to be thinking about in the moment. He decided to try to switch her mind to something that had been bothering him since their previous encounter, risky as it was. "I've noticed you and Captain Lorca seem to get along."

"He likes monsters," supplied Mischkelovitz.

Culber blinked. "You're not a monster."

"Tch," she went. "Of course I am. That's the moral of the story, isn't it? The real monster was Victor von Frankenstein?"

Culber considered Mischkelovitz. That was a truly sad way for her to describe herself, even if she had done things that might warrant usage of the word. "I can't begin to understand what you went through," he said sympathetically, "so I won't judge you for it." He had judged her already, but he was willing to put it aside for the sake of being kind. "I just want to make sure you don't get hurt. Captain Lorca is a... strong personality."

"I like that about him. Very much so."

"It's easy to get swept away by someone like that."

"Don't worry about me. I only go where I'm wanted. If the captain wants me, so be it."

Culber paused. The word choice seemed a little off. "You haven't... with the captain?" It would explain her comfort level with being manhandled by Lorca, her rush to defend him, and even the captain's kindness.

"What?"

"Forget I asked," said Culber, quickly shaking his head. "It's no business of mine who anyone sleeps with, so long as they do it safely." That might apply to Lorca more than most. The captain had something of a reputation in that regard.

"Do you mean have sex?" said Mischkelovitz, looking confused. "I would never compromise my work by wasting my time like that! Ever!"

She seemed genuinely repulsed by the idea. Culber was taken aback. "That isn't..."

Mischkelovitz suddenly brightened. "We can halve the size of the mower podules if we use the outflow return for the subsystems!" She began to make modifications in a flurry of excitement. Suddenly the implant design seemed neither inelegant nor oppressively bulky. It was perfect.

"Thank you," Culber told her. "I really appreciate your help with this."

"That was fun!" she exclaimed, then turned and ran out of sickbay.

It took a few minutes for the computer to finish the fabrication, but when it was done, Culber summoned Stamets to sickbay and presented him with the completed device. "What do you think?"

"What is it?" asked Stamets.

"This is what every astromycologist is going to wish they were wearing at your next conference," grinned Culber, and explained the implant's functions and features. Stamets was entirely impressed, both by the design and that Culber had done this for him.

The surgery was quick and easy. Mischkelovitz's design modifications took into account Stamets' anatomy perfectly, so even though it looked like a giant, painful thing inserted into Stamets' arm, it actually folded around the various blood vessels, muscles, and tendons perfectly. Stamets flexed his hand and smiled at it.

"You're the best," said Stamets.

Culber smiled. "I had a little help." And maybe, just maybe, he had gotten himself into Mischkelovitz's good graces in the process. Though, if the captain wasn't sleeping with Mischkelovitz, what exactly was he using her for?

The ship fell into a sort of quiet routine the next few days. Everything was going smoothly, if uneventfully, because to everyone's collective surprise, Lorca was presently adhering to the letter of Starfleet Command's desires. Routine spore drive jump tests at scheduled times. No presence at the front. Trying to find a way to duplicate spore drive control without violating augmentation laws.

It began to feel like O'Malley had been given more than enough time to process. Lorca called him to his ready room.

O'Malley refused. "Wanna try that again, colonel?" said Lorca, clearly implying their personal disagreement did not give O'Malley the right to deny a request from Discovery's captain.

"I literally can't. I gave Allan and Larsson leave to go to some disco party. There's no one else on the door."

Lorca started chuckling. Of course O'Malley would do something that pathetic. The party had been a concession to the fact they were presently doing nothing important. May as well let the crew kick back and relax a bit.

"So happy I can amuse," said O'Malley miserably. "Larsson fancies himself some sort of a dancer, and Allan... don't ask me, he's supposed to be asleep right now and apparently he'd rather do that, so I also get to cover part of his shift alone."

"You do not understand how to command," said Lorca, shaking his head.

"Well now, hang on a minute, I—"

The bridge cut in. "Captain, we are detecting an unidentified signal," said Saru.

"Yellow alert. This conversation isn't over, colonel."

"It hasn't even started," managed O'Malley before the ready room door opened and the comm channel cut off.

It turned out to be a gormagander—a space whale. Burnham was apparently some expert in the species, rattling off details of their biology and attributing their decreasing numbers in the galaxy not as a result of hunting but because they focused on feeding so single-mindedly they failed to find the time to mate. "That's as depressing a trait as I've ever heard," quipped Lorca before calling to the helmsman to plot a new course.

"Captain!" interrupted Burnham. "The gormagander is on the endangered species list. Protocol requires us to transfer it to a xenologic facility."

Great. Now not only were they not going to be participating in any battles, they were going to have to play chaperone to a space whale. Burnham seemed enthused for the task, at least. "Then have at it," Lorca told her, and she hurried off to the shuttle bay to oversee the creature's transport onto the ship.

Not five minutes later, it was aboard, and a frantic comm came from the shuttle bay:

"Intruder alert, shots fired," said Burnham breathlessly. "Need immediate assistance."

Tyler was at the security station. He put the security feeds on the main viewscreen. "Intruder's on deck six, sir!"

"I want him locked down!" ordered Lorca, watching as the helmeted assailant strode through Discovery's halls.

"We have him trapped, sir!" reported Tyler after a moment.

Lorca rose from the captain's chair and strode towards the viewscreen. "Whoever you are, drop your weapons. This ends now."

The helmet came off with a round of hearty laughter, revealing a familiar bearded, grinning face. "Did you miss me as much as I missed you?"

"Mudd," said Lorca, almost spitting the name.

"Did you really think that you could leave me to rot in a Klingon prison and not suffer any repercussions!" said Mudd, voice rising as he spoke, hand shaking in anger towards the security monitor. "As soon as I find what's so special about your ship, I'm gonna sell it to the Klingons. Do you hear me, captain?"

"I don't see this ending with you taking my ship," said Lorca, entirely unimpressed.

"Not this time, but I have all the data I need for the next, so, I will see you later. Or, rather, earlier."

Mudd triggered a device in his hand. The corridor flashed with light and Lorca had to close his eyes a moment. When he opened them, the viewscreen was static. "Mr. Saru!"

"Sensors read an amicium and yurium compound explosion," said Saru.

"Hull breach on deck six," said Ash. "Five, four, now three—we can't contain it, captain!"

Lorca felt his heart drop as Discovery was torn apart around him. The last thing he saw was bright yellow-white flames coming towards him.

Reset.

It was a space whale. Burnham was pleased for it, Lorca was completely annoyed at the prospect of playing chaperone, and he sent Burnham off to handle the situation.

From the belly of the beast itself, Harry Mudd waited and looked over the files from Discovery he had stolen before the reset. He had stripped out all the important stuff—access codes, schematics, crew assignments and the project directory—and he had a lot of data to go through. Luckily, he also had all the time in the world. As the transporter light shimmered around him, he decided to start this little adventure off with a bold gesture. "Computer," he said as the shimmer faded and the gormagander appeared in the shuttle bay with Mudd still inside it, giving Mudd access to the ship's command overrides from his hiding place. "Site to site transport. One to the captain's ready room."

The shimmer of the transporter began again, this time plucking Mudd from the gormagander's digestive tract with the precision of the finest surgeon and depositing him in the ready room.

The lights were dim. A concession to Lorca's damaged eyesight, of course. Mudd snorted at the conceited weakness of the self-imposed impairment. He also frowned at the sight of the standing desk. He had been hoping for a chance to put his feet up while he reviewed Discovery's files, but instead the room was as aggravating as the captain himself.

There was a wooden bowl on the desk filled with fortune cookies. Mudd took one. It read, There is a prospect of a thrilling time ahead of you. Mudd's face lit up. "Well now, isn't that just what the captain ordered."

Perfectly aware Lorca was just on the other side of the door attending to matters on the bridge, Mudd decided to stay for a while and munch on cookies as he went over Discovery's project list and schematics. He noted with great interest a laboratory completely shielded from transport. That had to contain a pretty good secret. He also took a glance over the many luminaries that called Discovery their home. Quite an assemblage of minds Lorca had gotten himself. Some genuine surprises in there, too. Emellia Mischkelovitz, for example. Dr. Frankenstein in the flesh. Mudd whistled in appreciation. If nothing else, he had to respect the captain's cojones. Almost as big as his own.

Four meters away, Lorca finished relaying the details of Discovery's newest "assignment" to Starfleet Command and decided to pick up the conversation with O'Malley. "Mr. Saru," he said as he rose from the captain's chair and headed to the ready room, the intonation of Saru's name sufficient to convey the transfer of command over to the first officer.

The ready room doors opened and Lorca found himself staring at Harry Mudd standing next to a bowl's worth of fortunes and cookie crumbs scattered across the desk.

"Why, hello, captain!" said Mudd blithely, raising his disruptor.

"Mudd," scowled Lorca. "What the hell are you doing on my ship!"

"Your ready room is awful! No chairs? Really?" Mudd shot Lorca. He watched with immense satisfaction as the captain disintegrated into a flurry of dust, leaving a singed smell on the air. Tyler appeared in the doorway, phaser drawn, but too late.

Reset.

This time, Mudd beamed from the gormagander's stomach to the corridor outside Lab 26. A pale, freckled man was guarding the door and raised his rifle in Mudd's direction as the transporter finished with the beam-in. "Identify yourself!"

"Harcourt Fenton Mudd," said Mudd. "I've been sent to review this experiment." He said it with the sort of glib confidence that usually made people think twice and accept a statement as potentially truthful.

"Absolutely not," said the freckled man. "Hands up. Computer, alert the bridge. We have an intruder."

Once again, Mudd found himself face to face with Lorca. "Mudd! What the hell are you doing on my ship?"

"A better question is, what the hell are you doing on your ship?" asked Mudd gleefully. "Computer, transport Captain Lorca to preset coordinates."

He beamed Lorca into space. The door guard clocked him on the back of the head with his rifle, knocking Mudd out, but it mattered not.

Reset.

Mudd beamed from the gormagander's stomach to the next section of corridor over from Lab 26 and fired his disruptor the moment the freckled man was in view, vaporizing him.

The door did not open. "Computer," said Mudd, "command override."

"This door can only be overridden by Colonel O'Malley's command module," the computer intoned flatly. This made no sense. Mudd had gotten himself the highest command authority, above even the captain, but the captain could not open this door?

"Who the hell is Colonel O'Malley?" asked Mudd aloud, checking the crew files. A freckled face stared back at him. "Well, damn it," said Mudd. He spent a few minutes on a halfhearted attempt to blast open the door to no avail.

"Hey! What are you doing!?" came a deep, booming voice. A pair of officers coming down the hallway had discovered him. They were a mismatched set, one a giant hulking blonde and the other a thinner, dark-haired man. They both had leis around their necks and were holding drinks. Neither was armed.

"What does it look like?" asked Mudd, firing at them. Then he made his way to the bridge. May as well have a little fun if no other progress was going to be made this time around.

"Mudd," scowled Lorca. "What are you doing on my ship!"

"Whatever I want!" exclaimed Mudd gleefully, shooting Lorca on a non-vaporizing kill setting and watching the captain stagger to the floor and collapse, dead.

Reset.

Mudd set his disruptor to kill without vaporizing and tried again. The freckled Colonel O'Malley fell to the ground in a heap and Mudd began to search him, locating the door control module. He clicked it.

Nothing happened. He clicked it again and again. No reaction. "Computer!" he shouted, really getting annoyed now. "Why won't the door open!"

"The outer door was automatically sealed when biosign termination occurred at..."

"Oh, come on!" screamed Mudd, and kicked the lifeless corpse of O'Malley until a mismatched pair of officers with leis around their necks happened upon him.

He came face to face with Lorca again. "Mudd!" scowled Lorca. "What the hell are you doing on my ship?"

"This," said Mudd, and activated the ship's self-destruct sequence on a ten-second timer. He laughed as he watched Lorca scramble to override it without success and listened as the captain screamed in useless fury as a yellow-white explosion engulfed them.

Reset.

It was a space whale. Burnham was pleased for it, Lorca was completely annoyed at the prospect of playing chaperone, and he sent Burnham off to handle the situation.

Not ten minutes later, the gormagander was aboard, and soon after a message beeped on the command console at Lorca's arm. He glanced down. It was from Lab 26. He tapped it.

It read simply "TINRUEDR" with no signature attached, but Lorca didn't need an ident to recognize Lalana's typing, because she had a habit of hitting three to four letters at once with her epithelial filaments, jumbling them all together. TINRUEDR? His eyes widened. "Red alert!" he barked, launching himself from the captain's chair to a very confused bridge. "Tyler, with me!"

The ship's site to site transport did not respond to them. They were locked out of the ship's commands. The turbolift was also not responding. "Down the turbolift shaft," ordered Lorca. Thankfully, down was a much quicker trip than up. Lorca slid down the access ladder at an almost breakneck pace and he and Tyler burst out onto level nine with phasers at the ready.

He found O'Malley laying in a pool of blood in the corridor and checked for a pulse. It was weak, but still there. He grabbed O'Malley. "Computer, emer—" The words died on his lips. No emergency transport. They were locked out.

O'Malley groaned slightly, eyes half-opening. "Gabe," he managed, only the first syllable.

Lorca stared at O'Malley. He was so pale even his freckles seemed to be disappearing. "Tyler! Get someone from medical down here." The only other option was try to carry O'Malley up the turbolift shaft, but with the loss of blood, he needed to be stabilized first. Tyler rushed off to fetch a doctor.

O'Malley's hand weakly reached up and grabbed Lorca's collar. "Listen," whispered O'Malley. "He locked the outer door, but there's a secret way in. Bottom left panel." This was a gross violation of the lab's security procedures, but Lorca could lecture O'Malley about it later.

Lorca carefully lowered O'Malley back down and went to the indicated panel, prying it off with his fingernails. There was a passage behind it too narrow for Lorca. "How am I supposed to," Lorca began, turning to look back at O'Malley only to find O'Malley was crawling over. Lorca darted back to O'Malley's side. "Stop moving!"

O'Malley clutched his hand to his wound. The main attack had been a knife wound directed just below the body armor and up towards the gut to ensure a slow, lingering death. "I'm fine. Look, this is just dinner at my house. Help me in there. I'll open the door from the inside."

There was enough blood on the floor to bathe in, but every minute out here was a minute Mudd was in there with Lalana and Mischkelovitz unsupervised. Lorca dragged O'Malley over to the passageway, helped him squirm inside it, and watched as he disappeared into the darkness. Then he did the thing he hated most: he waited.

The outer door opened after a minute. O'Malley was slumped against the wall, a dark red smear of blood behind him. Lorca stepped into the outer chamber and crouched down to check his pulse.

"Tell Melly... just as much."

"Tell her yourself," said Lorca. O'Malley's pulse was so weak Lorca could not find it.

O'Malley smiled faintly. "Guess... your secret's safe... with me." He closed his eyes and slumped forward. A message popped up on the internal door controls: BIOLOCK PROTOCOL ACTIVE. The outer door slid shut. The display updated: EXTERNAL ACCESS PROHIBITED.

Lorca straightened and readied his phaser. Thankfully, he was already inside. He hit the command to open the internal door.

The intruder in the lab heard the door and reacted by grabbing Mischkelovitz and pulling her in front of him. "Captain! How good of you to join us," said a familiarly taunting voice.

"Mudd," sneered Lorca, face contorting with rage. "What the hell are you doing on my ship!"

Mudd was standing with one hand tightly around Mischkelovitz's neck. Lalana was just off to the side, hands knocking rapidly together in alarm. Mischkelovitz was much smaller than Mudd and made a poor human shield, but between her and Lalana, Mudd had made the better choice in terms of coverage. Mischkelovitz looked at Lorca with terror in her eyes. "Gabe!" she squealed. Her usage of the short form was not something she had ever done directly before. Lorca knew from watching her on the security feeds it was how she referred to him when she was alone.

Mudd grinned, disruptor hovering at Mischkelovitz's ear. "First-name basis! Well then, Gabe, looks like I've found a few of your secrets this time! Never thought I'd get to see your lului. It's much better than the one in that Markalian zoo."

The distance wasn't tremendous, and the lights burned his eyes, but Lorca felt he could make the shot. He aimed his phaser.

In response, Mudd pulled Mischkelovitz more tightly against him and turned his disruptor towards the captain.

Both shots went off at the same time, but neither hit their mark. A blue shape appeared in the air between them, propelled from the side, intercepting both blasts and absorbing the shot that might have taken Mudd's life and would certainly have taken Lorca's. Lorca had one fleeting glimpse of green eyes looking at him and then she was gone, disintegrated into wisps of dust that burned away into nothing and left a singed smell on the air.

The shock lasted but a moment as both men realized their kill shots had failed to eliminate their opponent and took action.

Mudd fired again, but his shot went too high as Lorca ducked into a charge, screaming with a fury that told Mudd he had made an enormous mistake. With absolutely no concern for Mischkelovitz, Lorca barreled into Mudd and his hostage, slamming them both to the ground, the brunt of the impact cracking a number of Mischkelovitz's ribs. Straddling both Mudd and Mischkelovitz, Lorca pinned Mudd's weapon with one hand and pummeled the butt of his phaser against Mudd's face with such force it shattered Mudd's nose. He brought it down again, rage filling his ears, totally oblivious to Mudd's pained yell and Mischkelovitz's terrified, raspy scream as she struggled to breathe beneath his weight. There was a faint crunch as Mudd's orbital bone fractured.

Lorca dropped his phaser but did not cease his onslaught, continuing to batter Mudd with his bare fist. The fracture deepened, the face pulped, and still he continued, the cracking sounds coming as much from his own fist as Mudd's skull bones.

He finally heard Mischkelovitz crying and stopped, rolling off of her and Mudd. His breath heaved in his chest. Mischkelovitz squirmed weakly and whimpered in pain. Lorca's right hand was a uselessly twisted mess, but he managed to get his arms under Mischkelovitz and lift her up.

He stepped over O'Malley's body in the outer chamber. He was careful to keep Mischkelovitz's face against his chest so she would not see what had happened. As if losing a husband and sibling already weren't enough, she had now lost the one person who probably loved her more than anyone else in the universe.

Lorca hushed her softly. "Shh, I got you." He understood what it felt like to lose everyone and everything. Now he understood it twice over. He could still see that last flash of Lalana's bright green eyes in his mind. He triggered the external door with the internal system override.

Tyler, Culber, Larsson, and Allan were in the corridor. Culber gasped and quickly went into action, scanning with his tricorder for injuries. He scanned O'Malley, too, but the life sign was already long gone. Allan and Larsson looked ridiculous in their leis, drinks in hand. Allan also looked absolutely distraught. "This isn't happening!" Allan exclaimed. "How is this happening? This isn't supposed to happen!" He looked to Larsson as if he expected the Swede to somehow know.

Tyler noticed the bloody tangle of Lorca's hand limply dangling alongside Mischkelovitz's arm. "Let me take her, sir," he offered.

"She's my responsibility," said Lorca. He owed O'Malley that, at least.

The timer on Mudd's device maxed out. They were enveloped by a yellow-white explosion.

Reset.

Lab 26 was full of secrets, but not the one Mudd was after. At least Mischkelovitz had turned out to be a useful source of information in the minutes before Lorca's arrival. "It's not us!" she had squealed at him. "We're trying bloak creaks! Bloak creaks—bloak—cloak breaks! You want the mushrooms!" Finally, Mudd understood where he needed to go.

Engineering test bay alpha. On paper, mushroom spore propulsion sounded like a bad joke, but apparently it was a viable technology. Armed with this information, Mudd began his assault on engineering. He had full control of the computer and made short work of the staff in there. Unfortunately, he was unable to ascertain exactly how the drive functioned.

Something was missing, he realized. If he was going to sell this ship to the Klingons, he had to figure out what.

This time, he beamed onto the bridge, took out the crew there first, and then came last for Lorca in his ready room. Perfect timing, really. But then, it always was.

Reset.

Stamets was having a very weird day.

One moment, he was in quarters dismissing Culber's ongoing concerns about his personality changes as being silly, because he felt good, relaxed, better than ever. The next, they were enveloped by a yellow-white explosion and then he was walking down the corridor with Culber away from sickbay again.

"Hang on a sec," he said. "Weren't we just here a minute ago?"

Culber looked at him like he might be crazy, which was a look he was getting used to these days.

Stamets dismissed it the first time. Some sort of bad déjà vu.

Then it happened again. And again.

Stamets tried to alert Burnham and Tyler. "It all starts with a gormagander!" he managed.

It was a space whale. "Oh, for crying out loud," said Lorca. "Cancel yellow alert."

"Sir, scans show the gormagander's bio readings to be highly unstable," reported Saru, and informed Lorca that they were required under the Endangered Species Act to transport it somewhere.

Both Burnham and Tyler suddenly objected. Burnham looked like she had seen a ghost. Lorca stared at the two of them, wondering what was going on. "Let's beam this thing into the shuttle bay and drop it off at the nearest sanctuary soon as we can," said Lorca.

"Captain, I would like to run point on this, sir," said Burnham.

"I don't give a damn," Lorca said, shaking his head at her. "I just want it done." The sooner they got this little detour over and done with, the sooner they could get back to doing something, anything of actual use in the war. Even if that something was just scheduled spore drive tests.

"I request security oversight of the operation," said Tyler.

"I still don't give a damn," said Lorca, and sent them on their way.

A few minutes later, the computer suddenly initiated a black alert. Lorca had not issued any such command. "Computer, show me engineering!"

"Denied," said the computer.

He ordered Tyler to engineering and began to elicit solutions from the bridge crew. "There is nothing we can do, captain. We are locked out of our systems," reported Saru. "We only have nonessential systems."

"Screw the systems, get all security personnel to the lab any way possible," said Lorca. "Through the Jeffreys tubes. Airiam, get me any useful systems control you can manage. I'll take environmental, lights, anything."

"Warning, critical systems overload in 20 seconds," said the computer.

Twenty seconds was not enough time to do anything. Lorca felt a chill at the utter familiarity of this whole situation. It was the Buran all over again.

"Warning, drive overload," said the computer.

"Somebody give me something!" he screamed at the bridge, not wanting this to be the way it ended, not after everything. He looked helplessly at his crew. He had failed them entirely.

Explosion and reset.

It just kept happening over and over. Stamets was trapped in a time loop and no one on the ship but him knew it. It was some quirk of the quantum nature of the mycelial network he was now genetically connected to.

He figured a little bit more out each time. There was an intruder on the ship who arrived hiding in the belly of a gormagander. The intruder had control of the ship's computer. Every single time, people died. Different people different times.

He tried to explain it to Lorca on the fourth reset. The first attempt went about as well as could be expected.

"Captain, we're caught in a temporal loop!" he declared as he entered the bridge.

Lorca pressed the controls on the arm of his chair. "Dr. Culber. Lieutenant Stamets seems to have gotten loose on my bridge. See if you can't come up here and corral him?"

"No, listen to me!" exclaimed Stamets, but Lorca did not.

The fifth reset, the intruder did something different, and Lorca was not even on the bridge when Stamets got there. The sixth reset, things were back to normal and Stamets spoke Lorca's words as Lorca said them: "Lieutenant Stamets seems to have gotten loose on my bridge—" at this point Lorca stopped talking and just stared, so Stamets finished the sentence for him "—see if you can't come up here and corral him."

They were locked out of the main computer functions, but Lorca managed to open a shipwide comm and Mudd was all too happy to answer and stare Lorca directly in the face.

"We meet again, captain," said Mudd. "And again, and again..." He chuckled in amusement.

"Mudd! What the hell are you doing on my ship," scowled Lorca.

"Really, captain, this time you've managed to surprise me! How did you find out I was here?"

Stamets suddenly got the sinking feeling that enlisting Lorca's aid was too obvious and would tip Mudd off as to his awareness of the time loop.

In the end, Lorca antagonized Mudd, Mudd activated the ship's self-destruct in retaliation, and they all blew up again.

Stamets tried Tyler. Tyler was trusted by the captain and could advise discretion, but the problem was, Tyler did not trust Stamets. Fair enough. As much time as Stamets spent trying to get to know him in the time loop, for Tyler, it was always the first time they had ever really spoken. Tilly was also a bust; she was at the party and a little too drunk to take him seriously.

Stamets turned his attention to Burnham. He managed to convince her after a few tries, but they were almost out of time in the currently ongoing loop. "Tell me a secret," he prompted her. "Something that will immediately prove to you we've had this conversation. Something you've never admitted to anyone. I promise it'll be safe with me."

She believed him, so she told him her secret.

Explosion and reset.

Lorca sat in the captain's chair. "Is the fish safely on board yet?" he asked.

"Technically, it's not a fish," said Saru, "it's..."

Lorca shot Saru a look. Saru obligingly shut up. Then Culber requested Lorca in sickbay urgently to discuss Lieutenant Stamets. Lorca stepped into the turbolift with a gnawing feeling of worry in his stomach. "Sickbay, direct."

The turbolift started, then stopped. "Destination canceled," the computer informed him. The doors at the rear of the turbolift opened and Lorca turned to see one of his officers crumple to the ground with a knife in his back.

"Heavy," said a familiar, bearded man holding a disruptor.

"Mudd!" exclaimed Lorca and ordered a red alert. The computer did not respond to him. "What the hell are you doing on my ship?"

"You ask me that question every single time," said Mudd. "You know that, don't you? Of course you don't." Mudd fired a shot past Lorca's arm in a demonstration of his seriousness and ordered Lorca to move. "I really can't take it from the top all over for you again, Lorca. The message from the doctor was not real, I just wanted some alone time with you. There's an area of the ship I can't access and I'm hoping you're hiding your secrets to the spore drive—"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mudd," said Lorca, immediately thinking of Lab 26, "but if you think I'm gonna help you in any way at all, you're crazier than I remember."

"There really are so many ways to blow up this ship, it's almost a design flaw," said Mudd. "Computer! Access self-destruct program."

A chill rushed across Lorca. This was entirely familiar to him. It felt like he was on the Buran all over again. "Stop," he said. "We'll go wherever you want."

"Then get a move on," said Mudd, giving his disruptor a little shake to indicate Lorca should get a move on.

Lorca realized they were not heading towards Lab 26. On the one hand, he was relieved because that meant everything there was safe. On the other, he would really have liked the support of O'Malley's rifle and independent security protocols right now.

Instead, Mudd dropped every hapless crewman unfortunate enough to cross paths with them. At least there were fewer people in the halls than usual. A significant portion of the crew were attending that party.

"You know, I've had a lot of fun so far on Discovery. Found out so many of your secrets. Even had a go at your lului!"

Lorca realized Mudd had already accessed Lab 26. "Mudd," he growled, jaw clenching and teeth hissing.

"Don't worry, captain, that was ages ago! Haven't bothered with them at all this time around. She and that darling little Dr. Frankenstein are snug as bugs right now. I can change that, of course, if you don't cooperate, Gabe."

They arrived outside of Lorca's study. Mudd needed Lorca to provide the personal passcode for entry. Once inside, Mudd found not the secrets of the spore drive he was so desperately searching for, but a lovely collection of weapons from across the cosmos instead. He began to rummage through the guns on offer, looking for one to try.

"Do you know how many times I've had the pleasure of taking your life, Lorca?" sneered Mudd. "Fifty-three! But who's counting. And it never gets old." Mudd checked his wrist. "Oh, drat, we're almost out of time. I'll figure out how that little drive of yours works sooner or later. I've got all the time in the world." And he shot Lorca and watched him vaporize into little flecks of burning particles.

Reset.

"Has that fish beamed aboard safely yet?"

"Well, technically it's not a fish—"

Lorca gave Saru a look. Saru obligingly shut up. "Where the hell are Burnham and Tyler?" asked Lorca. He had called them to the bridge five minutes ago.

Then music began to play. Sweeping, orchestral, triumphant. Wagner.

"Mr. Saru!"

"I don't understand, sir, I'm locked out of the ship's controls."

Lorca hit the panel on his chair. "Computer." Nothing. "Computer, respond!"

The turbolift doors opened. "Let me see what I can do!" announced a familiar, taunting voice. "Computer, reduce volume so we can have a normal, adult conversation."

"Yes, Captain Mudd," said the computer.

Lorca rose from his chair. "Captain Mudd!" he exclaimed, incredulous.

Mudd shrugged at him. "I never thought I would say this, but I'm actually tired of gloating. In any case, this is very much my ship. Your ship? Very much not at all."

Lorca started towards Mudd, because no one—not Mudd, not Cornwell, not anyone—was allowed to take Discovery from him. "All right, show's over, Mudd. Back to whatever little hole you crawled out of—"

"To the brig!" said Mudd, and Lorca vanished in the glimmer of the transporter.

Burnham, Tyler, and Stamets arrived on the bridge. Armed with Burnham's secret, Stamets had managed to enlist both her and Tyler, because while Tyler did not trust Stamets, he trusted Burnham.

Mudd vaporized Tyler in a burst of weaponized antimatter as reward for their efforts. Burnham watched in horror as Tyler vanished before her eyes.

Mudd was hitting the limits of his patience. He was at the point where destroying Discovery was seeming just as palatable an option as selling it to the Klingons. "How do I start that engine, hm? I will disintegrate every single one of you in a screaming fit of agony one at a time. Starting with you!" Mudd started towards Saru.

"Stop!" shouted Stamets. "I can't watch you kill any more people." He pulled up the sleeve of his uniform tunic, revealing the implant that allowed him to interface with the spore drive. "It needs me to work."

Mudd laughed with glee. He finally had everything he needed. "Delicious. Shall we to the engine room?"

There was no one in the brig. No one had been recently locked up, so no one was needed there on duty. Lorca tried to override the controls from inside with no luck. The computer remained unresponsive. He pounded his fists on the forcefield, knowing it would have no effect, but needing some physical outlet to his anger.

He turned his attention to the small console in the wall. It was entirely rudimentary, locked out of most ship systems, but it was his only option. It had the capacity to order food, bring out the cot from the wall, provide a moment's privacy for using the toilet, and not much else. At least, it wasn't supposed to have anything else.

Lorca blinked at the words "BRIG CHESS" in the list of available commands and touched it.

"ENTER NAME" prompted the display, offering him an old-school keyboard and four spaces to fill. Lorca was five letters, so he entered LORC. It then prompted him to set a password, this time a 4-digit numerical code. He entered 1031, Discovery's registry number.

The screen split into two halves. The left half was a leaderboard with names on it. ROVE, M.B., NATE, MISH, LLNA, SARU, AIRM, PAUL, SILY, and more. Each name had a score attached.

The right side showed who was online and listed only one player at present, MISH. Lorca had a good guess who that was. He touched the name. It then prompted him to select from a variety of chess formats including Vulcan. He selected Classic. "REQUEST SENT" appeared and then a chat room popped up.

MISH: Captain? LORC: in brig LORC: ship taken LORC: send mac MISH: Okay he's on his way by the way Lalana says there is a halo of stars everywhere.

Lorca stared at that.

LORC: what MISH: I think she is describing some sort of particle field aberration. I'm not certain what. I'm working to figure it out.

Probably it was related to however Mudd had gotten control of the ship.

O'Malley arrived and tried to lower the forcefield to no avail. "Sorry, captain, I'm totally locked out."

"Try shooting it," growled Lorca.

"That only works in movies!"

"Well if you have a better idea!" Lorca exclaimed.

"I might. Let's call John. If anyone can get control of the systems, it's him."

"Groves?" Lorca found that assertion faintly ridiculous. Groves could get control of a ship that its own captain had been locked out of?

"As he's very fond of pointing out, he could have walked out of that brig any time he wanted to. He simply chose not to. He's probably the best systems hacker you'll ever meet."

A long time ago, Mischkelovitz had said John Groves could be useful in unexpected ways. It seemed the time had finally come for Groves to fulfill that mandate and serve a purpose.

While Lorca languished in the brig and Stamets stalled Mudd in the engineering lab, Burnham continued working to figure out how Mudd was engineering the time loop. Understanding that could bring an end to all of this.

Mudd was not the only thing that had been hiding in the gormagander. An entire ship, linked to the device on Mudd's arm, served as the basis of the time loop power.

Burnham had a plan. There was one secret of Lorca's that Mudd had yet to unravel: her. She was something the Klingons would pay a lot to get, perhaps even more than Discovery itself. She approached Mudd in the ready room, revealed herself, and tantalized Mudd with the prospect of selling her for even more riches.

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Mudd. "What's in it for you?"

"Lieutenant Tyler," said Burnham.

"Lieutenant Tyler is dead," said Mudd.

"Not for long," said Burnham, and used one of the weaponized antimatter modules to disintegrate herself before Mudd's eyes.

The Klingons were hailing. "Damn it!" exclaimed Mudd. He wanted everything. Especially now that he knew exactly how much everything on this ship was worth.

In the brig, Groves released Lorca and opened his mouth to gloat about the sudden reversal of their fortunes, but his triumph was short-lived.

Reset.

Stamets, Burnham, and Tyler approached Lorca. After so many loops, there was no time. They had to get everything right. It was unlikely they would get another chance.

When Mudd arrived on the bridge, Lorca did not even turn to look at the turbolift doors as he said, "Captain Mudd."

"What's this?" asked Mudd, finding all of them ready and waiting.

Lorca stood up. "Your chair," he offered, stepping aside.

They told Mudd he had won. That after so many loops, Stamets had concluded Mudd was unbeatable, and now Mudd had everything he wanted.

"So, Harcourt Fenton Mudd, the USS Discovery is yours." Even knowing it was a falsehood, it still galled Lorca to say the words.

"As am I," said Burnham.

Mudd laughed. "Don't try to con a con man!"

"I'm not," said Lorca. "I'm negotiating with a businessman. My offer is simple. The lives of my crew in exchange for... Burnham, the ship, and Stamets."

"Why would a Federation captain do that?" asked Mudd.

"I will not have a repeat of the Buran." This, at least, was not a falsehood. He extended Mudd his hand. "Your word, Mudd."

Mudd took his time, considered the hand being offered, and finally smiled. "Well, I've never been one to look a gift captain in the mouth!" He shook Lorca's hand with enthusiasm. Lorca looked and felt crushed by the exchange. He hated this. He hated this so much.

Now that Mudd had everything he wanted, he let the temporal loop expire. The time crystal on his arm disintegrated. From here on out, everything was going to be permanent. No more do-overs.

"Captain Mudd, we are being hailed by the Klingons," reported the computer.

Lorca looked at Burnham. If any of them died now, it would be for good, forever. He did not want any of them to die.

Mudd took Burnham and Stamets down to the transporter room to meet the Klingons. "Not you, old man," Mudd said to Lorca. "Lorca, I'm gonna really miss killing you. Adieu, mon capitan!"

Lorca stood on the bridge as the door closed. "Mr. Saru," he said, and returned to the captain's chair. "Bring up the security feeds. Mr. Tyler, let's get you in position." Lorca did not smile, because there was still a risk and Burnham and Stamets were both down there with Mudd and a disruptor, but he was beginning to feel more himself now that the situation was coming back under his control.

Tyler beamed to an adjacent corridor to ambush Mudd. Lorca watched as Stamets and Burnham distracted Mudd and disarmed him. And then, the kicker: when Mudd had thought he was signaling the Klingons, he instead had signaled other parties interested in obtaining not Discovery but Mudd himself.

"Turns out, you can con a con man," said Burnham, and as he watched and listened from the bridge, Lorca smiled. Attagirl, Michael.

"The stars are gone now," Lalana said to Mischkelovitz. "Whatever was happening has ended."

Mischkelovitz stared at the readouts in the lab. Despite her best efforts and her suspicions, she had been unable to figure out exactly what Lalana was seeing, she only knew that Lalana was seeing something.

"Can you tell me all the other times you've seen these stars?" asked Mischkelovitz.

"Of course. The first time was when I met Captain Lorca on the Triton. They were lingering around him like a halo. The second time was when I came aboard Discovery. They were outside the lab, just in front of it. The third time was when we were in null time. They were diffuse that time, different, dimmer."

"And you think they lead you to where you're supposed to be?" This had been Lalana's assertion when the stars had shown up again thirty minutes earlier.

"I can think of no other explanation, except this time, they were everywhere, so bright and sparkling, and now suddenly they are gone."

Mischkelovitz chewed her lip. She did not think the "star halo" was what Lalana thought it was. Mischkelovitz did not believe in fate. "I need something," said Mischkelovitz. "And I need you to answer me honestly. That's not the thing I need, but I need you do this, too."

"I will answer what I am able," said Lalana, which was no promise at all.

Mischkelovitz knew better than to speak the words where the security monitors would overhear. She twitched her finger at Lalana and they moved into Lalana's quarters. Mischkelovitz locked the door behind them, turned towards Lalana, and said with sudden strength and clarity, "You're a part of Section 31, aren't you?"

Lalana tilted her head to the side. "I do not even know what that is. Why would you say such a thing?"

"We were working for them, and they have Rischka's mesearch, and I need that research and the quantum accelerator and scanner we developed. Can you get those things for me?"

Lalana straightened, her tail against the floor for balance. "I will steal it if I have to. How did you know I was with Section 31?"

"Because," grinned Mischkelovitz, her eyes crazily wide and somehow more uneven than usual, "you always lie." In Mischkelovitz's experience, that was the one thing you could always count on Section 31 to do. They had lied when they promised things to her and Milosz about their research. They had lied when they took the research away after he died.

Lalana clicked her tongue in happy mirth. "You are only the second human to have noticed that!"

O'Malley and Lorca finally resumed their discussion in Lorca's ready room.

"Look, Gabriel, it's all well and good, you locking me out of the communications systems, but I would really like to call my wife, and frankly, if it comes out that I didn't report anything because you prevented me, that's going to reflect rather badly. So knock it off."

Lorca frowned. "I can't let you send that report, Mac."

"Don't you want to know what it says?" O'Malley tossed his padd onto Lorca's desk.

It was the worst report Lorca had ever read. It mentioned an incident had occurred involving a weapon in the captain's quarters, but that the witness was unable to provide an official statement, investigation was presently stalled and inconclusive, and factors were at play that might have compromised both parties regarding the incident. There was no mention of what these factors were, what the accusation was, or even the fact the unnamed witness was an admiral who had been captured by Klingons. At the bottom the report said Preliminary investigation inconclusive.

"So now our asses are covered," said O'Malley. "My ass, anyway. If Cornwell ever turns up, I was unable to proceed owing to her absence, and if you get your wish, the poor woman will end up murdered and this will never go any further."

Lorca chewed his lip. He could hear it in O'Malley's tone, but just in case, he looked up at O'Malley's face. It was grim and very displeased. "Don't even think about thanking me," said O'Malley. "I officially owe you no favors. And for the record, Cornwell's right. You do need help. It just so happens we still need you. I feel sick for my part in this, do you understand that? I'm absolutely gutted. I don't know how you can live with yourself."

Lorca's mouth tugged into a frown. He could live with it because he still had Discovery and everyone on it, but he could tell this was eating O'Malley up. "Listen," he began.

"No, you listen! You're better than this. Every time you do some awful thing to someone, you always manage to make up for it somehow, so you have to do that now. You have to make this count. I don't care what it is, just give me something that matters. Just—something!" O'Malley's lip trembled and his nose scrunched up. He clasped his hand to his face. His voice cracked as he said, "God, I hate you! You have to do better, Gabriel, please."

Lorca considered O'Malley. For all that O'Malley was pathetic, he had also gone out of his way to protect Lorca despite the personal toll it was taking. "All right, Mac," said Lorca. "I'll find a way to make this count." He would single-handedly kill every last Klingon if that's what it took.

O'Malley's hand fell away, revealing a pain as deep as any Lorca had ever seen. "It's not that easy." O'Malley sighed, shook his head, and looked away. Then he said in a small voice, "Computer. Site to site transport. Personal quarters."

Lorca had a fairly good idea O'Malley had done that so no one would see him cry. He stared at the empty air where O'Malley had been standing. The ship seemed suddenly a little lonelier.

Part 67

#Gabriel Lorca #Captain Lorca #Michael Burnham #Star Trek #Discovery #Star Trek Discovery #fanfic #fanfiction #Saru #Paul Stamets #Hugh Culber #Harry Mudd #Harcourt Fenton Mudd #Ash Tyler

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