“We may all have come on different ships, but we’re in the same boat now.”

Martin Luther King, Jr.

A meandering tendril of night – breeze gently teased the balding pate of Captain Jim Conrad, causing him to stir and ascend only half-aware from the encompassing embrace of deep sleep to shallower depths and murmur in a dream – mangled voice.

“Yo, compu’… crank down the AC by twelve percent, would ya?” The compact man in his 40’s slurred as he shifted over to his other side, leaving a faint pool of drool on his pillow.

It was the roughness of the ground that drew him further to breach the surface of wakefulness.

Bleary eyed, Jimmy peered through sleep encrusted lids and thought how majestic the stars looked and began to slip back under the dark spell of sleep as it banished wakefulness, his sleep – added brain only just registering that the stars normally were only observable from the viewport to the starboard side of the captains quarters.

There were no stars on his roof.

Some more animalistic part of his hind – brain clamored distant alarm bells, the jungle – drums of prudence exhorting him to open his eye began to beat away in the jumbled corridors of his mind and James Conrad opened his eyes warily once more, a frown starting to form on his sleep ruffled face.

Yes – those were stars alright. Compellingly convincing and stark in both beauty and reality.

He was certainly not on the USS Speedwell anymore.

“Wha’ the hell…?” Conrad muttered, trying to ignore the foul taste that seemed to have glued his upper – pate to his tongue whilst he slept.

He sat upright and was surprised to find that he was inhabiting a sleeping – bag and not his normal bed aboard the Duderstadt – class starship that he commanded.

He was naked, but that was normal – he always slept how God intended.

What was decidedly not normal was that had awoken to seemingly find himself in a small alpine clearing mantled by a sentry of looming conifers, at nighttime, with the entire bowl of the heaven resplendent with the vista of a glorious starfield mantling the majestic night – sky.

A familiar view. With only a few moments of reflection, Jimmy concluded that the view of the heavens corresponded to that which you would expect of Starbase 72s home – system. He was on a planet in the Minos Korva system.

Looking around, Jimmy noted the mountainous terrain and temperate climes and concluded that this was most likely Minos Korva Prime, the very planet that the Spacedock – class home station orbited.

Someone’s idea of a joke.

“Ain’t funny, Janet !!!” Jimmy scowled as he took in more of his surroundings and ordered.

“Hey, computer! Wrap up this holo-biz, will ya?

Only the sound of the cool night breeze sighing through the tall pines greeted his voice, making it sound small by comparison.

Jimmy and his Executive Officer, Janet Mason, had known and worked together over a number of intervening years and different commands. He wouldn’t put it past his XO and friend to pull a prank as elaborate as this.

“Computer! End Holo-simulation!” Jimmy looked around at the beautiful, uncaring sky and it began to dawn on him that this was no simulation after all.

“Aw, c’mon…damn…” Conway frowned and noted a small bundle of objects that had been laid behind where his head lay. Now that he was upright, he could finally see them.

A bundle of clothing.

Not Starfleet issue. The kind you may select if you were intended on hiking or spending the weekend outdoors. The cool night breeze prompted Jimmy to worm his way out of the sleeping bag and begin to put the clothing on.

His size, he noted.

Next to the clothing was something that was definitely Starfleet standard issue.

A Tricorder.

As he flicked the device open and activated it, the stream of data from the elegant device confirmed that which he had thus far deduced – he was on the surface of Minos Korva Prime. In the northern hemisphere’s alpine region to be precise.

The presence of the device also helped him form a pretty – intuitive impression of WHY he was where he had suddenly found himself. When juxtaposed with the WHERE, then began to deliver the reason behind this elaborate charade.

Jimmy pulled one of the boots on and secured the fastenings.

“Oh Williams, Thakrass…you wicked sons-a-bitches!!!”Conrad laughed ruefully to himself as the realisation hit him. He had been transported to the surface of the planet whilst he slept. He cast his mind back to a few days previously, when he had received a message addressed to himself and his fellow ship commanders of Task Force 72.

A message had appeared in his feed as he had been busying himself with the endless minutiae of a Starfleet vessel in Spacedock. Having been further from the borders of Federation space when the Blackout began, the crew of the USS Speedwell had fared slightly better at the hands of the Vaadwaur Supremacy when compared to some of their contemporaries.

From what Conrad had gathered, for some ships and their crews, they had had things very hard indeed.

Still, a Duderstadt was like a goddamned thoroughbred, in engineering terms, and every time they took her out she seemed to need a longer stay in her damned ‘stable’ – if Chief Engineer Anaxia Werann had anything to say about it. When it came to the vessel’s systems, Jimmy had learned that it was wiser to stay out of the Bolian’s way.

Originating from Captains’ Trevenan Williams and Zarroc Thakrass, the TFCO & TFXO had extended an open invitation for their command – teams to participate in what they had cryptically framed as a unique “Team – building exercise”, details to follow for those who were interested.

Jimmy didn’t have anyone special or any immediate family on Starbase 72 with which to share his leave (his clan was safely squared away back in West – Fenway in his native Boston) and he knew that Jan would most likely be catching up with some of her old squadron – mate cronies from when she served aboard the ’72, wayback.

As much as he loved a drink in a bar and watching his beloved BoSox, he tried to avoid doing it with blowhards and fighter – jocks & jills had that stuff in spades, kid.

So, figuring that it was always a good thing to keep your bosses happy, Jim Conrad had absently signed the RSVP in his in – box and promptly forgot all about it as the needs of the ship jostled for his much – divided attention.

As it turned out, it seems he should have paid it all a little more mind. He sighed and began to roll – up the sleeping bag. Having no idea what this clown – crawl jamboree that his superiors had concocted would entail (or for how long this joke would last), he rightly determined to hang onto it. It could come in handy in a variety of ways.

He looked down at the last cryptic item that had been left behind by those merry pranksters.

A torch.

The primitive type made from a branch with some combustible material tightly bound around its head.

“Real ‘old-school.’” Conrad remarked dryly and thanked the almighty that he was dry for now. The weather was cool but not cold, the clothes provided warm. He looked heavenward, the stars and attendant double moons were full waxed and provided more than adequate illumination. He estimated that dawn was maybe some three hours away from breaking.

He took up the torch.

Although there was no immediate means of lighting it, Jimmy was pretty sure that he remembered enough from his Academy days to overcome that obstacle if it became necessary, but somehow he rather thought that its use was intended to be more symbolic than practical.

The clue to this revelation came from the waving orange glow that pulsed from a nearby mountain peak, some three miles off to his west.

There on a high – plateau someone had gone to the trouble to construct a great fire of considerable proportions, as if to say “Here! Here I am!” and gave the inference of a summoning.

A Beacon.

Captain James Conrad, commanding officer of the USS Speedwell, took up the unlit torch, stowed it down the centre of the rolled – up sleeping bag and checked the tricorder for any unexpected deviations in the terrain before him – then clipped it to his belt.

“Ah! What the heck, I’m in, you wicked bastids! Let’s do this!” Jimmy smiled easily as he set off down the gentle incline of the slope, careful to keep the blazing fire on the horizon at his 12 ‘o’ Clock and he struck out to find what adventure this strange turn of events promised.

“I mean it’s not like the ‘’Sawx” had a chance at the ‘Series this year anyways….”