Caged by Time

Posted on 30 Jun 2025 @ 4:09pm by Major Emily Janeway

505 words; about a 3 minute read

[ON]
Personal Log, Major Emily Janeway, Stardate 73962.4
The Tomcat’s hum is a cold pulse under my boots as I sit in my quarters, clutching the only scraps I’ve got left: a crossbody bag belt with an obsidian Friesian figurine, a data crystal locked to my bio-signature, and a red paper code for a core wipe. My Colt 1911, etched with a charging stallion, is caged in the armoury—Captain Somers’ orders, though my Winchester replica request with Hawksley keeps a flicker of hope alive. These are all I’ve scrounged since the rift tore me from 2405 to 2396, a far cry from the Commodore’s life I led. My scars burn, the neurotoxin’s claws sinking deeper, a gift from Admiral Townsend’s betrayal. That bastard sent me into “Shadow Sweep” in the Badlands, knowing the Obsidian Order’s bio-weapon would rot me from the inside. He left me to die like a forgotten corpse, amber ichor choking my lungs, with that mole Vek’s knife in my back. Was the rift his doing, too, to bury his tracks?
The Department of Temporal Investigations tightened the noose on Starbase 51. Agent T’Vara’s Vulcan voice was a blade: “Your displacement from 2405 is a Class-7 anomaly. Disclose no future events—missions, tech, or personnel. Contact with Admiral Kathryn Janeway, your adoptive mother, is forbidden to prevent timeline contamination. Your bio-signature will be monitored for chroniton exposure, especially in Sector 419, where fluctuations could destabilize your temporal anchor. Violations mean confinement.” Confinement. The word’s a slap, worse than Townsend’s cold eyes as he signed my death warrant. They’re tracking my chronitons like I’m a plague, not a Marine. Did Townsend tip them off to cover his betrayal? My throat rasps, scars twitching, and I’m damn sure DTI’s hiding why I’m here, maybe protecting his secrets.
Lieutenant Commander Smithson’s guarded briefing and Somers’ Marine-sharp stare at Starbase 51 didn’t ease the rage. The Mira Sector’s “Wild West,” this Hackers Backdoor mission to a mining planet in Sector 419—cyber-intrusions laced with temporal ripples—feels like another of Townsend’s traps. My PADD pinged: elevated chroniton fluctuations in 419. DTI’s warning wasn’t just protocol; it’s a shadow of his handiwork. I’m to lead the Rifle Regiment, forge them into a blade for this chaos, but his ghost looms over every step.
I’ve got 1st Lieutenant Cassandra Matthews, my XO, to meet soon. Her demotion screams she’s fought her own battles—she might get this fire in my gut. I tapped the armoury for phaser rifles and photon grenades; inspection’s at 0900. This ship, this crew—they’re my anvil now. The Friesian on my desk rears, defiance in its curves. Townsend left me to rot, DTI caged me, but I’m still breathing. I’ll carve my place in 2396, scars and all, and face whatever’s waiting on that planet. Let them try to bury me again.
End Log
[OFF]
Major Emily Janeway
MCO/2XO
USS Tomcat

 

RSS Feed