STAR TREK

TALES OF THE MARSHAL MARTZ

Episode 13: The Dog That Saw the Future By John H. Harris

Disclaimer and Rights Notice: Star Trek is the property of Paramount Pictures Corporation, and is used only to indicate that the events of this story take place in the same overall continuity as canonical Star Trek. No copyright infringement is intended. The Dog That Saw the Future, Episode 13 of the STAR TREK: TALES OF THE MARSHAL MARTZ fan fiction project, is cbd2003 by John H. Harris under the Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 US license. This work may be reproduced and distributed freely, so long as it is done so in full and this rights/disclaimer notice is included. Published by the author in the United States of America. Dedication: To those who bring the characters of Enterprise to life. Not all of us thought youd do as well as you did. Thanks for proving the naysayers wrong

May 12, 2155 Porthos woke up feeling the now familiar rumble beneath him. They must be using the go-fast thing again. I wonder what big ball well visit next Dismissing that thought quickly, as those of his species did, he stood up, stretched, shook himself to dislodge anything that may have settled on him while he slept, and set out in search of food, his pack leader, or fun not necessarily in that order. His pack leader was called Jonathan Archer, though the members of this particular pack called him Captain. He didnt know what that term meant, but the way the other members of the pack said it (with the possible exception of the female with the Doberman-like ears) gave him the impression that it was a term of respect. Porthos looked around the den he shared with his pack leader, but didnt find him anywhere. Where could he be? he thought. Im not allowed in the bright-lights room or the room where they keep the go-fast thing The little den? The beagle needed his pack leaders help to find food, since he couldnt open the box that contained his food in their den. He looked up at the closed door and the button next to it. He was far too small to reach the button just by standing there, and the door was too thick for anyone to hear his scratching. But Porthos was nothing if not resourceful. He backed off almost to the far wall, ran headlong toward the button, and, just before he would have crashed into the wall below it, gave a mighty shove with his back legs, leaping as high as he could. His right paw hit the button, and the door puffed open. He picked himself up from the floor and walked through the open door, just before it closed behind him. He shook himself again, looked to the left, then the right, and started off to the right. That was the way his pack leader always went when they hunted together. But hed need help in the little moving room. First to get in, and then to actually move it. He sat down in front of the door and waited. He hoped it would be the one called Hoshi. She was nice. Unlike the others, she actually made an attempt to speak his language, though she had a horrendous accent, and her phrasing could use some work. Not to mention that she didnt seem to be aware that it was a language Hey, Porthos, came the distinctive voice of the ships chief engineer. Howd you get out here? The beagle looked up at the blond engineer. Hi, Trip! he thought, wagging his tail at his pack leaders friend. Can you help me? I bet youre looking for some breakfast. Thats right. Well, I dont think the captain would mind if I took you down to the mess. Chef can probably find you something. I certainly hope so. Trip pressed a button next to the door. A few moments later, it opened for them. Porthos led the way in, the human following a moment later. Trip pushed another button, and the little room began moving. When the little room stopped and the door opened, the beagle followed Trip out and around the corner to a larger room. He didnt have to see to know that this was the food room. He could smell the wonderful scents from the little moving room.

Gmornin, Chef, the chief engineer drawled. Whats on the menu this fine day? Well, weve got bacon or sausage, scrambled eggs, reconstituted hash browns, and re-sequenced cereals, the ships cook answered. Hash browns again? Trip asked. Dont you ever make them any other way? Sorry, Commander, Chef said, defending himself. I can only work with what Im provided with. If I had real potatoes, I could do something with them, but theyre these reconstituted things. Fine. Give me some of the eggs, some sausage, and the hash browns. I think Ill skip the cereal. Have you got any hot sauce? There should be some on the counter over there. Good. Now, what have you got for Porthos, here? Chef leaned through the window and regarded the small dog. Good Morning, Porthos! I think youd enjoy some sausage. What do you think? Sausage? I like sausage, but not the real spicy kind. It gives me gas. I think he likes the idea, Trip commented. Ill fix him up a bowl. Could you get him a bowl of water, Commander? Chef asked. Sure. As Chef quickly prepared a bowl of sausage and bacon scraps, Tucker went over to the cabinet, where he pulled out a cereal bowl. Hey, Frank, where should I put this thing? Petty Officer Michael Koenig asked, looking around. Just put it there by the console, answered Chief Petty Officer Frank Lake, the ships cargomaster. Well find somewhere for it. Works for me. Can you give me a hand with the next one? Its way too big for me to handle alone. Sure. Leaving his datapad on the console, Lake joined his subordinate, and the two men headed for the nearby cargo hold. It was about that time that Porthos arrived. His hunger had been taken care of, so he was in search of his pack leader, fun, or a nice place to take a nap. Again, not necessarily in that order. Hey, he thought, this looks like a nice place. He trotted up onto the platform, finding it warm, like a sunny spot back in the old den he shared with his pack leader. In the way of his species, he walked in a small circle a few times, and then lay down for a well-deserved nap. Just as Lakes datapad slipped from its perch atop the transporter console, activating the unit in the process. Porthos last thought before the beam swept him from the ship was Whats that tingling? Somewhen

Chronotons are strange things. They affect the fabric of time itself, much in the same way as gravitons affect the fabric of space. Of course, natural chronotons are extremely rare, and most beings can go a lifetime without encountering them. However, Porthos was not most beings, especially suspended in the transporter beam Stardate 56098.2 Chief Warrant Officer Risha Deney had been the chief transporter technician aboard the Marshal Martz since before the ship was even completed. She had been the first person to operate the ships transporters, and knew more about them than anyone. Officially, she was under the direct supervision of Lt. Christner, but the cadet who served as the ships chief engineer knew better than to get in her way, since her experience far exceeded his prodigious capabilities. Physically, Deney was a trim woman of average height who wore her long blonde hair in a stylish bun while on duty. Her gray eyes were intense, reflecting the intensity with which she did everything Including, at that moment, reading a rather dry translation of a lesser-known Tolstoy novel. As was the custom aboard the Marshal Martz, music filled the compartment to ease the tedium, for unlike other posts, watches in the ships transporter rooms were, more than anything else, exceedingly boring. Thus it was that she didnt hear the soft chime of the incoming transporter signal. And, since her back was to the platform, she didnt see the small dog materialize there. Hey, where am I? Porthos wondered as he stood up. It certainly wasnt where he had been just a moment before. He looked around, seeing nothing familiar. Even the smells were different. And the sounds He did recognize a door, but it was a lot bigger than any in his packs territory. Still, it meant a way out, so he trotted down from the platform and approached it. He jumped back as it puffed open, parting down the middle. But nobody entered. Porthos found it strange, yet recovered quickly, bolting through just before the doors closed. Since those of his species didnt see in color, he couldnt tell that the deck and bulkheads were of a different color than those he was used to, but he did notice that their shape and materials were completely different. Then there were the smells. These smells were completely unlike anything hed ever smelled before. Not all of them were pleasant, but some of them were. Hey, came a voice from behind him, whered you come from? He turned to see who had spoken, and was thus not quite ready to be picked up. Watch where you put those fingernails! he thought, squirming in the womans grip slightly. Id like to father some pups one of these days. She looked something like Hoshi, with slightly squinty eyes and long black hair, but she smelled different. Are you lost? she asked. You dont have a collar. Collar? I havent worn one of those since leaving the old pack territory. And this doesnt look like my packs territory

Well, lets find out where you belong. She carried him over to a black panel set into the wall, which lit up at her touch. Now theres a nice trick, Porthos remarked to himself. Computer, has anyone reported a lost dog? Negative, the computer replied. Hmm Put a found pet alert on the shipwide channels. Maybe someone has lost one and not yet realized it. Acknowledged. And, until someone reports you missing, I guess youre my responsibility. Where should I take you first? Youll probably need to go to the arboretum before too long, so lets head there. Arboretum? Whats that? She carried him to a smaller set of doors, which, like the others, opened at their approach. It was another little moving room. Arboretum, the woman said. A moment later, the doors puffed closed and the little moving room started moving. Porthos couldnt be sure, but it felt like this one moved a lot faster than the one in his packs territory. Finally, the little moving room came to a stop and the doors puffed open. Instantly, Porthos smelled something he hadnt smelled in quite a while. Hey! he thought, thats grass! Calm down, you, the woman said as he began squirming to escape her arms. Well be there in just a few seconds. Yeah, but I want to run through the grass now Oh, okay, the woman said, gently tossing him to the deck. Instantly, Porthos was off and running for the open doors to what appeared to be a very large space. In fact, as the cleared the doors, he discovered it was even larger than he expected. It was even large enough for TREES! Meanwhile, back in 2155 Hey, Trip, Captain Jonathan Archer asked, have you seen Porthos this morning? I took him down to get some breakfast, Tucker answered. I havent seen him since then. I kinda wondered how he got out of your quarters. I usually let him have the run of the ship, Archer remarked. You know how beagles are. Oh, yeah. I remember the last time you locked him in. He smirked at the memory. We could hear the howling all the way down in engineering. Check the internal sensors, Archer ordered. Trip called up the shipwide scan on one of the auxiliary monitors. Im not reading him, but there are a lot of places a little pup like him can get into that we cant scan. Hes probably just taking a nap in a warm place. Still, tell the maintenance teams to keep an eye out for him, will you? Will do, Captain.

Maybe Dr. Phlox wasnt joking when he said Porthos could change color to blend into the background 56098.3 Captain John H. Harris liked visiting the arboretum every so often, though hed never been an outdoors person. But, the arboretum had some of the largest windows on the entire ship, affording him a completely unobstructed view of space. And he needed it. With the frustration of being assigned to diplomatic missions instead of the deep-range exploration the ship had been designed for weighing on him, he desperately needed some time surrounded by that little bit of nature at the top of the ships structure. Which explained his appearance at the open doors of the arboretum. What he didnt expect to see was Sergeant Major Leah Corwin seated in the grass, playing with a small dog. Hey, Leah! he called, heading across the grass toward her. The marine looked up and smiled at her captain, but the expression lasted only a moment before it took on a look of warning. No, John, not Harris felt something go squish under his right boot. Looking down, he found the foot in question firmly planted on what had been a pile of canine digestion-based fertilizer. there, Corwin finished. Sorry, Captain. Captain? Porthos thought, his head coming up. Thats what they call my pack leader. The little beagle bounded across the open area to sniff at the captains trouser leg. You dont smell like a pack leader. He sniffed again. Then again, maybe you do. Whered this little guy come from? Harris asked, wiping his sole on a convenient patch of grass. I thought we didnt have any beagles aboard. Yup, thats me. Im a beagle, Porthos confirmed, wagging his tail happily. I found him wandering around outside transporter room three. Hmm. Looking down to make sure he didnt step in any more biological waste deposits, Harris made his way over to where Corwin sat, and joined her on the grass. He doesnt have a collar. Think maybe someone smuggled him aboard? Why? Ships policy allows for pets. Thered be no need to smuggle one aboard. But nobodys registered a beagle. Computer! he called, raising his voice slightly. How many beagles are currently aboard? One, the computer replied, currently located in the arboretum. Is this beagle registered to anyone aboard? Harris asked. Negative. Harris and Corwin looked first at each other, then at the dog, a look of interest on both their faces. How long has this dog been aboard, Computer? Corwin asked. One hour, twenty-six minutes, the computer answered. Corwin blinked in surprise. Thats impossible. You said you found him outside transporter room three? the captain asked. Thats right. I think weve got an intruder aboard, he said, reaching for Porthos.

Are we going somewhere? Lets take this little guy down to sickbay. Maybe a full medical scan can tell us just what he is. Standing up with the dog in one arm, he tapped his commbadge with his free hand. Harris to transporter room three. Deney here, Sir. Chief, has anything come through there in the last two hours? Not that Im aware of, Captain, the womans voice replied, but let me check the logs Thats interesting. The logs show a reception massing approximately nine kilograms, but theres nothing here. The pattern looks like a life-form. The computer identifies it as a dog. There was a moment of silence. Sir, I take full responsibility. I should have heard it materialize Well determine guilt later, Chief, the captain said, cutting her off. Transfer a copy of the logs to sickbay, and then go over that pattern with a fine-tooth comb. I want to know exactly where this dog came from. Aye, Sir. Harris out. They walked into sickbay to find the ships chief medical officer, Dr. Chase Woods, tending the foot of the ships chief engineer, Cadet Lt. Kevin Christner. What happened to you? the captain asked. Oh, I had a minor accident on the holodeck, Sir, the blond-haired teenager answered. Deirdre and I were racing go-carts, and we both wanted the same patch of pavement. I see. You should be more careful, Lieutenant. I hope at least you won. No, she did. I flipped, and it landed on my foot. Ouch, the captain said, commiserating. Where is Ensign Mallory, anyway? Shes checking the holodeck safeties. Ah. Doc, when youre done there, can you give this little guy a full scan? Harris asked, gently placing Porthos on one of the exam beds. Transporter logs say he beamed aboard a little over ninety minutes ago, but theres nowhere he could have beamed aboard from. Curious, the doctor answered, returning her instruments to their tray. There you go, Mr. Christner. Go back to your quarters and put it up for a while. Itll ache for the next day or so. Thanks, Dr. Woods, the cadet answered, gingerly putting first his sock, then his boot, back on. Captain. Sergeant Major. Take it easy, Kevin. As Christner left sickbay, Woods pulled out a medical tricorder and gave the dog a quick once-over. Huh? Porthos thought. Youre not Dr. Phlox Its a beagle, she said, as the computer automatically compared the dogs lifesigns and genetic structure to the average for the breed. Its healthy, though it shows evidence of having eaten re-sequenced proteins. Re-sequenced? Not replicated? Corwin asked.

Definitely re-sequenced. He also appears to be lactose intolerant. Woods face changed, her brow furrowing, as new readings came up on the tricorders screen. What the hell? What? the captain asked. This dogs pituitary gland has been transplanted from a Kelrisian chameleon. And it has an ID chip. She pulled the high-resolution scanner from the top of the tricorders housing and passed it over the skin between the beagles shoulder blades. Hey! Porthos thought, squirming a little, That tickles! Sorry, Woods said, but I have to get in close to read the chip. She then returned the scanner to its housing and transferred the results to the large screen at the head of the biobed. SFO-CA-BGL-8424 J. ARCHER PORTHOS If I remember right, this first line indicates hes the 8,424th beagle to be registered in San Francisco, California. The second line is his owner, J. Archer, and the third line is his name. Porthos, Harris said, immediately drawing the little dogs attention. He then did a double-take, looking back at the chip information. I think someones pulling an elaborate practical joke on us. Sir? Corwin asked. Jonathan Archer, Harris answered, brought his beagle, Porthos, along with him on the first starship Enterprise. Of course he did, Porthos thought, his tail thumping on the biobed, tapping out a soft tattoo. You dont expect him to leave me, do you? The number supports the time period, Woods said, checking a nearby computer terminal. They started ID chipping pets in San Francisco back in the 1990s. But this cant be Porthos. Of course its me! The little dog thought, indignantly. Who else would I be? I mean, if it were, hed be two hundred years old. Not likely, Woods answered. Six, seven, maybe ten at the outside. Then how Harris stopped, not wanting to face his confusion. How did I get here? Porthos thought, silently completing the captains question. Id like to know that myself. Hopefully, Chief Deney can answer that. Lets hope. 2155 Uh, Commander Tucker? Chief Petty Officer Lake asked, standing below the platform where Trip monitored the ships warp core. The Enterprises chief engineer turned and leaned over the railing. Yeah, Chief. What can I do for ya? he drawled. Well, um I heard that the captains dog is missing.

Hell turn up. I, uh, dont think so, Sir, Lake said, barely above a whisper. Trips smile faded. What happened? It was an accident, Sir! Lake protested. I just put my datapad on the transporter console, and it must have activated the unit when it slipped off You beamed the captains dog OUT INTO SPACE?! the chief engineer asked, his voice rising with each word. Lake did his best to remain standing under the verbal assault. Uh, not exactly, Sir. What do you mean, not exactly? Trip asked, dropping to the deck next to where Lake stood. I mean, the transporter log indicates that he materialized on a on another ship. What? Trip was incredulous. Thats impossible. See for yourself, Commander, the cargomaster said, handing over the datapad he carried. Earth sea level gravity and atmospheric pressure, Trip read. Atmosphere mix is a little off, but He looked up at the chief petty officer. Are you sure he didnt materialize somewhere else aboard Enterprise? Absolutely, Sir. I checked the coordinates four times. He was beamed to a point two hundred and eighty-six kilometers from the platform. Trip sighed. Wed better go tell the captain what happened. Lets hope these log readings are correct, else you may just find yourself beamed to the same spot. Needless to say, Captain Jonathan Archer did not take the news well. While the others on the bridge could hear the captains voice through the closed readyroom door, only Subcommander TPols hearing was acute enough to hear the words. You beamed my dog off the ship?! the captain yelled. Out into space?! Someone else replied, too quietly for even TPol to hear. What do you mean, he materialized on another ship? We havent been anywhere near another ship for weeks! TPol raised an eyebrow at the remark. Obviously, the transporter logs indicated something other than Porthos materializing out in space, where he would have quickly succumbed to oxygen deprivation. Keeping part of her mind on trying to catch as much of the conversation as possible (completely oblivious to the fact that she was eavesdropping), she called up the transporter log in question. An entry in the transporter log caught her eye, and she made a note of the time index. Ensign Sato, she said, turning to the olive-skinned woman at communications, access the ships flight recorder, and display main viewscreen images from 10:04 this morning. Hoshi Sato quickly accessed the requested visual, and put it up on the main viewscreen. What are we looking for, Subcommander? asked Ensign Travis Mayweather, the ships helmsman. A convergence of events, the Vulcan answered. Advance frame by frame, Ensign. Slowly.

It took only a few frames to reveal that the transporter log had been correct. TPol immediately activated the intercom. TPol to Captain Archer. What? the captains voice replied, much more terse than normal. We have located evidence that bears upon your current discussion. I believe you should see the image currently on the main viewscreen. My current discussion? Have you been eavesdropping, Subcommander? It was not intentional, Captain, the Vulcan answered, but, as you are undoubtedly aware, Vulcan hearing is somewhat more acute than that of humans. A sigh came over the intercom. Well be right there. A moment later, the readyroom door opened to reveal the captain, Tucker, and Lake. What the hell is that? Archer asked. On the screen was an indistinct shape, with only patches in focus. Other patches seemed to be transparent, with stars shining through the image. According to the transporter log, TPol replied, that is the vessel to which your dog was accidentally transported. Is that some kind of stealth technology? Tucker asked. I do not believe so, Commander, the science officer answered. I believe we are seeing a different temporal location. I thought you didnt believe in time travel, the chief engineer remarked. In the time since our last encounter with Mr. Daniels, I have reviewed the theoretical literature. Captain, Hoshi said, leaning on her elbows, I think I see some lettering about two-thirds of the way back. I dont see it, Mayweather remarked. Let me see if I can zoom in on it. Sato tapped a series of commands into her panel. A moment later, the image swelled and re-formed to show lettering. Can you clean that up a little, Hoshi? Archer asked. I can try, Sir. It took several passes before the lettering became clear enough to read: CC-7850 and under it TED FEDERATION OF PLAN. Thats English, Lt. Malcolm Reed, the ships weaponsmaster, said. Any idea what the rest of that says? Think that last word could be planets? Tucker asked. Since the vessel is obviously from the future, it would be logical, TPol answered. By the same token, the first word is likely united. United Federation of Planets, Archer said, slowly sinking into his chair. Daniels said my absence from this time prevented a Federation. How far ahead do you think they are? Unknown, Captain. Archer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the chair arms. I think were seeing chronotons in action. Chronotons? Reed asked. Daniels told me about them. Theyre particles that act on time the same way the graviton affects mass. Supposedly, if you have enough of them in one place, you can cloak a ship or open a portal, sort of like what warp drive does with subspace. Mr.

Mayweather, reverse course, and take us back to the exact position we were in when this image was taken. Aye, Sir, the helmsman replied, altering the ships course. Captain, it is illogical to assume that vessel is in the same location as it was at that time. The image would indicate that it, too, was moving at warp. Its a starting point. Despite your attachment, it is only a dog, Captain, the Vulcan observed. Archer rounded on her, the look on his face unlike any she had ever seen before. Unconsciously, she took a step back, ready to physically defend herself. Ive had Porthos since he was a puppy, Subcommander! Hes as much a member of this crew as you are. Never forget that. 56098.5 Harris walked into transporter room three, with Porthos close on his heels, to find half the ships transporter operators performing level one diagnostics on every transporter system. Anything yet? the captain asked as Porthos trotted past him. Hey, the beagle thought as he wandered around the compartment, noticing the several species represented in the group, Ive never seen anything like you before. Whatcha doing? Can I help? No, Sir, Chief Deney replied from the main console, which, like most of the other panels and accesses in the compartment, stood open, revealing the control circuitry and fiber optic cabling. There was an anomaly in the energy signature, so were doing a full level one diagnostic, just to make sure its not in our equipment. Fine. But I can give you direction and distance, Deney continued, looking around beneath the console for a certain PADD. Here it is. Bearing 128 mark 42, distance just under two hundred and ninety kilometers. She looked down as Porthos sniffed at her boots. Hi, there, the transporter chief said as she knelt down and picked the beagle up. Hi, yourself. Have you identified him yet, Sir? Well, if the ID chip implanted between his shoulder blades is correct, youve got a real celebrity in your arms, Chief. It identifies him as Captain Jonathan Archers dog, Porthos. Sir? I dont understand it either, Chief, the captain responded, but his ID chip identifies his owner as J. Archer from San Francisco. Have you ever heard of anything beaming through time? Deney frowned, her brow furrowing as she considered the captains question. Yes, she finally said, looking up to meet his bespectacled eyes. Defiant. The starship Defiant? Thats right. As you know, Sir, back before it was destroyed in the war, the ship was fitted with a Romulan cloaking device. The ships extensive use of that cloaking

device led to a build-up of chronotons on the ships hull. A few years ago, that buildup led to a number of temporal beamings. Its not general knowledge, though. So whered you hear about it? Chief OBrien, the Defiants chief engineer at the time, told me about it. I see. Do you think maybe Porthos was beamed through a chronoton field? Harris asked. If either we or Enterprise carried a cloaking device, Id have said its possible, but natural chronoton fields are extremely rare. If thats the case, itd be the wildest stroke of luck in history but it would explain the anomaly. Well, if it is, we need to find a way to make it happen again, this time in reverse. Ill do what I can, Sir. 2155 Doctor, Subcommander TPol asked, may I speak with you? Of course, Subcommander, Dr. Phlox answered. My door is always open. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. Of course your door is always open. Free access to sickbay is required by regulations under normal circumstances. I meant that Im always available to talk. Whats on your mind? I am concerned about the captains actions. Hes becoming irrational. How so? He has ordered us to remain at this position until we either recover his animal or have incontrovertible evidence that retrieval will not be possible. He and Commander Tucker have even discussed rigging the ships impulse engines for high sublight velocity so that we may use time dilation effects to travel forward in time. That does seem a bit drastic, the Denobulan remarked, but the captain is quite attached to his dog. He paused for a moment. In fact, Im quite impressed at how humans tend to anthropomorphize their pets. The captain, especially. He seems to draw great solace from his dog. He even talks to it. Of course, Ive been known to talk to my Pyrithean bat from time to time. But would you drop everything to retrieve it? TPol asked. Certainly not. While it is valuable, it is also fairly easily replaced. As is the captains dog, TPol reminded the doctor, yet when I reminded him that it was only an animal, he seemed insulted. Well, humans can become overly attached to lower life-forms, especially when theyre aesthetically pleasing. And, Ive heard quite a few of the crew describe Porthos as cute. Still, I am concerned about the captains performance. As chief medical officer, you can remove him from command on psychiatric grounds. You think hes unfit to command, Subcommander? Phlox asked, suddenly concerned. I believe he has the potential to become unbalanced, TPol answered. I see. What exactly did he say?

When I reminded him that it was just a dog, he said that the animal was as much a member of this crew as I am, and to never forget it. I remind you that this is the second time he has placed the animals welfare before our mission. Phlox sat on the edge of one of the many workstations, his lips pursed in thought. Hmm I have to agree that his reaction is rather emotional, but its well within what Ive observed of the captains behavior. Ill have a talk with him, Subcommander, and if I think hes unable to perform his duties, Ill issue the appropriate medical orders. I doubt it will be necessary, though. Humans are quite resilient. Very well, Doctor. TPol turned to leave, but stopped at Phloxs call of, One more thing, Subcommander. Yes? You said he has hopes of recovering Porthos, even traveling forward in time to retrieve him. What exactly happened? You have not heard? Just snippets here and there, Phlox remarked. The scuttle butt, as the crew calls it, isnt always complete or accurate. It appears that the accidental transport that beamed the animal from the ship coincided with our passing what the captain believes to be a chronoton field, which another vessel will also pass at some point in the future, allowing it to materialize on that ship, in that time. How extraordinary. Ive never heard of anything beaming through time before. At least not without future intervention. If we do manage to retrieve the little dog, he will have made history. I think it quite unlikely that we will be able to retrieve the animal. There are just too many variables. I know that, and you know that, and Im sure even the captain knows that, but humans can be obsessive when it comes to rescues. I wouldnt count them out just yet. 56098.5 Porthos was beginning to get comfortable in this new pack territory. Hed even seen others of his species, though of different breeds. But, at that moment, interacting with other dogs was not high on his priority list, for his nose was telling him that his favorite food was not far away. Hey! Youve got cheese! he thought, sitting down next to the big human they called captain. Harris looked down at the beagle. What? Maybe if I give him the sad, soulful eyes routine with a little whimper. You want some of this? the captain asked, reacting to the dogs sound. Yeah! I like cheese! You sure you wouldnt rather have some beef? Well I like beef, too, but I really like cheese. Harris stood up and walked over to the wall. Computer, one order of beef tips, rare, some non-dairy cheddar cheese cut into three centimeter cubes, and a bowl of water, three degrees.

There was a sound from the wall, and a moment later, the captain knelt down and placed two plates and a bowl on the deck. Porthos walked over, sniffed at the food, and looked up at Harris. Wheres the food room? I didnt smell any of this stuff before What, something wrong with it? No, it smells okay, Porthos thought, taking one of the beef tips into his mouth. It wasnt the best beef hed ever had, but it was close. Yknow, I wish there were records about you. Thatd let me know if well be able to send you back. He gave Porthos a gentle pat on the head and went back to his desk. Computer, play next entry. Captains Starlog, May 13, 2155 Porthos kept eating, oblivious to the sudden change in Harris attitude. In fact, he didnt even notice the big human scramble out of the readyroom. All stop! Harris ordered as he walked out onto the bridge. Answering all stop, Sir, the helmsman reported as the main screen showed the ship slow from warp, the stars returning to points of light, rather than spectral lines. Harris to transporter room three. Chief Deney, what was the time index on that transport? 10:04:02.6, Captain. Conn, can you take us back to our exact location at that time? the captain asked. I think so, Sir. Do it. Something? asked Commander Arleta Thivan, the ships Andorian first officer, as she stood up from the captains chair. I have a hunch about how we can return our little passenger to his proper time, Harris answered, lowering himself into the chair. Tom, he continued, addressing Lt. Cmdr. Tom Bemus, the ships science officer, scan those coordinates. Im looking for a chronoton field. Bemus checked his console, running the scan. Nothing, he answered, finally. If there was one there, its long dissipated by now. Damn. The captain touched a button on the chairs right panel. Harris to engineering. Christner here, Sir, responded the ships young chief engineer, Cadet Lt. Kevin Christner. Kevin, I need a chronoton field. Think you can figure out how to generate one? Thats a tall order, Captain. I know, but we have someone aboard who needs one. There was silence from the intercom. This wouldnt happen to have something to do with Porthos, would it, Sir? Harris traded a look with his first officer, both of them knowing that the only thing to travel faster than warp 10 was gossip. History says we got him back home, so Im giving you the job of making it possible. Ill see what I can do, Sir. Keep me informed, Kevin. Out.

Maybe we should inform Starfleet of what were up to, Thivan suggested. After all, were close enough to the Core Systems to be on Starfleets traffic sensors. Yeah, we probably should. See if you can contact Admiral Vosseller at Starfleet Command. Ill take it in my readyroom. 2155 Good evening, Captain, Phlox said, greeting the only other person in the otherwise deserted mess hall. I see youre having another sleepless night. Are you here to remind me that hes just a dog, too? Archer asked. Not at all, Captain. Im well aware of the bond you have with Porthos. While I may not understand it, I wouldnt dare deny its existence. Thanks. Of course, Subcommander TPol seems to be of the opinion that youve become irrational. No big surprise there. Vulcans have been calling humans irrational since the day Dr. Cochrane played Roy Orbisons music for them. The two chuckled. I admit Im not being logical about this, but Porthos means more to me than than almost anything. We need to explore every possible option before giving him up for dead. TPol tells me you called him as much a member of the crew as anyone else on the ship. Youre damn right, the captain answered, and Id do the same thing Im doing now if it had been anyone else who got accidentally beamed off the ship. He looked at the doctor, his gaze unwavering. Do you think Im being irrational, too? Oh, no. Youre showing compassion and concern for one who is close to you. While I havent made friends with the dog the same way much of the crew has, Ive become rather used to having him around. Some of the animals in sickbay seem to enjoy his company. The Denobulan paused. Of course, he has tried to attack one or two of them, as well Those are his instincts kicking in, Archer said, reassuring the doctor. They probably smell like rabbits to him. Phlox frowned. Why would the scent of a rabbit cause your dog to attack? Thats what beagles were originally bred for. Theyre small enough to be able to get down into a rabbits burrow and flush him out. Ah, yes, I see. If I may ask, he continued, changing the subject back to his original reason for seeking out the captain, how long do you intend we should remain here? Archer sighed. I dont know. A week, maybe two. Any longer than thats probably wishful thinking. He gave Phlox a wan smile. Think TPol will be satisfied with that? I think so, Captain. Ill inform her that, as this ships chief medical officer, Ive determined you to be perfectly competent to remain in command. Thank you, Doctor. He indicated the pitcher next to him. Care for some tea? No, I should probably get some sleep and so should you. While my species doesnt require a great deal of rest, yours does. If you like, I can give you something to help you relax.

No, thats all right, Doctor. Im not really tired. Very well, Captain, Phlox remarked, but if you should change your mind, dont hesitate to ask. And with that, Phlox left the captain to his privacy. Stardate 56100.1 Im sorry, Captain, Kevin Christner said, reporting to his captain the next morning. Like Archer two centuries before, the teenager had stayed up all night trying his best to come up with a way to generate chronotons in sufficient quantity to beam through them. Theres just no way I can generate a chronoton field with what I have. Even if we did still have that FCE cloaking device, wed have to run it non-stop for close to a year to even approach the quantity of chronotons wed need, and you know how picky Starfleet is about who uses what cloaking devices were allowed under the Treaty of Algeron. Harris sighed. Yes, I do, he answered, accepting the young chief engineers report. The Marshal Martz had been fitted with a cloaking device during a mission that had taken the ship back in time to the early 21st century, but it was removed upon their return to the present. We could take the ship back in time Christner began. Admiral Vosseller nixed that idea, Harris interrupted. He said itd be a violation of the Temporal Prime Directive. But we need to do something, because the records say he was returned. Of course, they dont say how He looked up at the cadet. Thank you, Kevin. As Christner left the readyroom, Thivan walked in, accompanied by Sergeant Major Corwin. Bad news? the Andorian asked, seeing the look on Harris face. We cant generate a chronoton field, the captain confirmed. So what do we do? Corwin asked. I dont know. Harris stood up and started slowly pacing. Immediately, Porthos hopped up onto the sofa and began pacing next to the captain. We have three options: violate and go back in time; send Porthos back alone, possibly through the Guardian of Forever; or keep him here and change history. Option two is out, the marine said. The way the Guardian works, hed probably end up somewhere on Earth. And we cant change history, Thivan added. Weve already gone through that. Let me take him back, Corwin suggested. Ill take a shuttlecraft. Itll give you deniability No, Harris snapped. I wont put anyone elses neck on this chopping block. John, think about it, Thivan argued. If one of us does it Wed both be drummed out of Starfleet, maybe all three of us. I cant let that happen. If anyone does it, itll be me alone who takes responsibility. That means I have to do it. We could program the computer to do the slingshot and rendezvous, Thivan suggested. That way, we could send him back alone.

Alone?! No, I dont want to go alone, Porthos thought, looking at the blueskinned woman. Im a pack person, remember? The captain shook his head. Archer wasnt one to trust the transporter. Hed insist on bringing the shuttle aboard, and we cant risk that. So were down to two options: I take him back, or history changes. He sighed. Hectares and Smythe have been looking for an excuse to use against me. I think its time I gave them something. Leah, start prepping a type nine shuttlecraft. Number One, have Tom start calculations for time warp. Our target is May 13, 2155. And get me Admiral Vosseller again. Aye, Sir, the two women chorused before heading out. It took only a few seconds for the big screen in the readyroom to light up with the face of Admiral Robert Vosseller. Yes, John? Whats up? the admiral asked. Bob, I hate to have to say this, but Im going to have to violate your orders. Im having a type 9 shuttlecraft prepared, and Ill be taking Porthos back alone. Hopefully, that way, I can minimize any possible contamination. Vosseller didnt look happy. I see. You know, if this doesnt work, youll be cashiered. Even if it goes perfectly, youll probably end up in front of a board of inquiry. I know, but the records show he got back. I cant allow history to change, Bob. The admiral nodded, slowly. Let me run it past Temporal Investigations. If they give it a green light, Ill authorize it. But if they dont, and you do it anyway Understood, Sir. How soon will you be ready? A few hours. Ill try to get back to you before you leave. Starfleet out. Five hours later (subjective time) and Somewhen (objective time) aboard the shuttlecraft Andromeda. Personal Log: Stardate 56100.4 It seems Ive been given a reprieve. Temporal Investigations, having reviewed my plan to travel back in time to return Porthos, has given me the go ahead to do so. Bob informed me that there were some noses bent out of shape in the debate, but even my detractors at Starfleet Headquarters were forced to see the logic of the situation Hang on, little guy, Harris called from the pilots seat of the small shuttlecraft. This is going to get rough. They had taken over an hour to get to the Theta Cygni system, and had closed on the star, gaining speed as they drew closer. The windows had long before gone completely opaque, as the little shuttlecraft was close enough for even the briefest exposure to prove blinding. That left Harris piloting completely by instruments, but that was nothing new to the captain, since nearly all interstellar navigation was done by computer-controlled instruments. Computer, he instructed, run breakaway program.

Program running, the computer announced. Breakaway in five, four, three, two, one 2155 Malcolm Reed was the latest in a long line of military men. For generations, his ancestors had been officers in the British Royal Navy, nearly all of them armory officers or gunners of some sort, so the idea of a captain bringing his pet along was nothing new to him. Indeed, the concept of the ships pet was a long-standing maritime tradition on Earth, and Malcolm had been raised on tales in which disaster was forecast by some accident befalling a ships pet. Thus, while he knew that some would consider it silly, Reed was far more concerned about the ship than about the missing Porthos, and kept a very close eye on the space around Enterprise. That meant he was the first to notice the blip on the screen, which was moving very quickly. Captain, theres a vessel approaching, he reported. Its not very big, but its moving like the proverbial bat out of hell. Archer turned to look at the armory officer. How fast? Its slowing rapidly, but a moment ago, it was moving in excess of warp fifteen. Boy, Trip Tucker, at the engineering console, commented, Id love to get a look at those engines. I cant even imagine the kind of technology a warp fifteen culture has. Polarize the hull plating, the captain ordered, just in case. He then turned to regard Hoshi Sato at communications. Hail them. The young woman triggered the automatic hail. A moment later, she reported, No response, Captain. Were being scanned, Subcommander TPol called as she looked into the highresolution scanner at science. Are we close enough for a visual? Not yet. Its speed is down to warp five point eight, Reed answered. Five five, five zero, four five, and slowing. Im not reading any weapons, though. Anything, Hoshi? Archer asked. Nothing, Sir. Open a channel. He waited for the distinctive sound from the communications panel before continuing. This is the starship Enterprise. My name is Jonathan Archer. Were on a mission of exploration from the planet Earth. How may we help you? He was met by silence. The channels open, Sir, Hoshi said in response to his silent question. If you dont want to talk, thats fine, but I must warn you that we are ready to defend ourselves. Its dropping from warp, Reed called. The size reads slightly smaller than one of our shuttlepods. What? Tucker asked, incredulously. Nothing that small can go that fast. Nothing known to our science, Commander, TPol reminded him. As you said yourself, it is difficult to imagine the capabilities of a warp fifteen culture.

On screen, Archer ordered. Lets have a look at it. It even looked something like one of the shuttlepods. Three large windows dominated the front half of the streamlined craft, while two low-slung warp nacelles did the same aft of the windows. Ensign, Reed asked, looking at the image on the main screen, can you zoom in on those markings just below the side window? Not a problem, Hoshi answered. A moment later, the screen zoomed in to reveal the words SHUTTLECRAFT 1 and ANDROMEDA. That cant be one of ours, Ensign Mayweather said from his place at the helm. I mean, we dont have anything that fast. I think I see some kind of registry on it, too, Hoshi remarked, changing the images angle. Instantly, everyone on the bridge recognized the markings. USS MARSHAL MARTZ NCC-78506 You forgot the word yet, Travis, Archer said. Thats a shuttlepod from the future. We dont know that, Captain, TPol warned. How else would you explain those markings, Subcommander? Tucker asked. It certainly fits with what we saw before. I cant. Meanwhile, aboard the Andromeda Oh, I think Im gonna be sick. It had indeed been a rough trip back through time, but they had arrived at both their spatial and temporal destinations perfectly. How about that, Harris remarked, looking through the large windows at Enterprise. Its been years since I saw this old girl at the Starfleet Museum, but I never thought Id ever get this close. Porthos, in the manner of his kind, didnt pay much attention to the vista beyond the windows. Instead, he took a silent inventory of his bruises. Well, Harris said, ignoring another hail from the ship, it looks like your masters on the bridge. Master? You mean my pack leader? Porthos asked, abandoning his inventory of bruises, since they didnt seem to be as extensive as he first thought. Where? Hey, dont get excited. I need to find a place to beam you to. He did a quick scan of the bridge, locating each life-form reading. No, he mused, I cant put you down in front of the captains chair. Archers pacing there. The chair itself is out, too, since he could sit down before you materialize, and that would be very bad for both of you. He then brightened as he found the perfect place. Ah, Ive got it. Computer, prepare to beam the contents of the starboard seat to the following coordinates. He tapped in the location, which the computer pinpointed on the small screen located between the two sides of the main console. With that done, he reached into his uniform and withdrew a paper envelope. Here, he said, holding it out to Porthos, and dont shred it. The little dog sniffed it a couple of times, and then gently took it in his mouth.

Energize. Enterprise Im reading a transporter beam, TPol called, suddenly. Its moving off, Captain, Reed reported at almost the same time, and going to warp. TPol, Archer asked, where did that transporter beam go? The Vulcan looked toward the back of the bridge, and was about to answer, when Porthos bark made her actions redundant. Porthos! the captain called, rushing to his pets side. How did you get back? Hi, Pack Leader! Its good to be home. Archer picked up the little dog from its place atop the briefing table and hugged it for several seconds as his bridge crew gathered around, beaming with delight, with the notable exception of TPol, who maintained her characteristic Vulcan calm. Whats this? Reed asked, reaching for the envelope that had dropped from the dogs mouth. Its addressed to you, Sir. Archer gently placed the little beagle on the deck, saying, Stay, and then accepted the letter from the armory officer. It must be from our friend out there. Opening the envelope, the captain began to read aloud: Dear Capt. Archer, For obvious reasons, I cant go into details, but Porthos has been a guest aboard my ship for the past few days. Except for a small pile of bio-waste in the arboretum, he has been a perfect gentleman, and a joy to everyone hes encountered. It wasnt easy bringing him back to you, but history shows that this little dog will play a very important part in some of your upcoming missions, and I couldnt let history be changed by his absence. Besides, mans best friend is a timeless image, and Im well aware of the bond that forms between a man and his dog. I would appreciate it if you would not mention this letter in your logs and destroy it at your earliest opportunity. By rights, I shouldnt have written it, but its a rare opportunity to be able to communicate with one of the pioneers of human deep space exploration, even by proxy. I wanted you to know that your missions will serve as inspiration for generations of explorers to come, and that your officers and crew will pave the way for millions to follow in their footsteps. Be well. Capt. John H. Harris July 12, 2378 P.S.: Say hi to Ian Harris for me. Youll find him commanding NV-07, Magellan.

Slowly, Archer re-folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. Travis, he said, weve waited here long enough for Captain Harris to find us and return Porthos. I think its time we resumed our course. Yes, Sir, the young, dark-skinned man answered, a grin spreading across his face. So what do we do about the letter? Reed asked. For now, Archer answered, nothing. Id like the crew to be able to read it before we destroy it. He handed the letter to the armory officer. Post it in the mess hall, Malcolm, along with orders that it not be copied or mentioned in any logs. Too bad we cant send a letter back to him, Hoshi remarked. What makes you say that, Ensign? TPol asked. On Vulcan, it is a common practice to leave messages for future generations. A time capsule? the communications officer asked. I hadnt considered that. I guess I could start assembling one. But who do we leave it with? Trip asked. I mean, traditionally, time capsules are buried somewhere or put in as part of a buildings cornerstone. Im sure the Vulcan Archives would be willing to store this time capsule for you, the science officer suggested. I hate to say this, Tucker remarked, but shes right. I mean, Im sure Starfleet would store the stuff for us, but theyd want some answers before they do. Very well, Archer decided, well send the time capsule to the Vulcan Archives for storage. And, while were at it, lets assemble a second one for Starfleet to hold onto. One for those millions who will follow us out here. Ill get right on it, Hoshi said. Hey, Pack Leader, Porthos thought, looking up at Archer, can we go back to the den now? Im tired. Stardate 56103.7 The Vulcan long-range shuttle had dropped off the time capsule several hours before, but Harris had been too busy to open it until now. It was larger than the messages from the past that hed received before, about the size of an old steamer trunk. As he looked at the faded insignia on the capsules cover, he grinned. I should have known theyd do something like this, he thought, popping the latches that held the cover on. A quiet fwok! indicated that the interior had been under a vacuum, thereby preserving its contents against atmospheric contamination. Opening the cover, he found eighty-five message chips and a number of mementos. There was an Enterprise patch, a package of seeds from the ships hydroponics bay, a group of recipes from the ships chef, and even someones teddy bear. Atop them all was a chip marked with his name. Withdrawing the chip, he walked across his quarters to his desk. Computer, he said, placing the chip atop the small terminal console, scan message chip and play message. It took a moment for the computer to scan the recording from the chip, but finally, there was a series of tones, and then the well-known voice of Jonathan Archer.

Dear Captain Harris, I want to thank you for returning my my best friend. Hes been with me for a long time, and I dont know what Id have done without him. I almost wish Porthos could talk. Im sure hes got quite a tale to tell. After all, hes the dog that saw the future THE END