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Captain's Log Stardate 74827.43: December 31st, 2399. 0400 hours

It has been just two hours since the G.D.S. Dreamcatcher came through the rift. The medical data alone has been worth meeting them, though I am beginning to suspect that it wasn't by chance they arrived today. They have with them a Temporal Historian that has done more than 1000 rift jumps, with no apparent side effects. This Montolongue claims that his race was the ones who created the rift, due to a slight miscalculation on an Engineer's part. His appearance is reptilian humanoid, but his mannerisms leave a lot to be desired. Even our guests are unnerved by his presence on this trip.


Montolongue stood gazing out the Captain's Office window. "Time and time again, she falls. One day soon, she will kill us all." He mutters to himself.

"Pardon me, Montolongue. Is that from a poem?" Fleet Captain Tor asked.

He looked startled, and paled slightly, as if we had brought him back from some strange nightmare. "Oh, no, Anna... uh, Amba... um, Fleet Captain. It's from one of my history books. It's about you and it's about today." That wasn't the first time he acted as if we were on familiar terms. He looked down at the floor and a tear came to his eye. "I'm sorry, Captain. Today you will lose a lot of your friends and there is no stopping it."

Anna stood from her chaise, steeling herself up to her full regal height that left many shivering in fear. Her eyes turned cold steel blue as she addressed Montolongue, "Then perhaps today is a good day for me to be an Ambassador," she stated in icy tones. "There is one thing you don't do and that is threaten my family, or anyone else on this Space Station. You have two options: tell me what is going to happen today or die while still telling me what is going to happen today."

Montolongue paled even further as Anna stepped towards him, a dagger suddenly in her hand and to his throat. Swift and cat-like, just like the history books said she was. He swallowed nervously, as he saw from the corner of his eye the door open and two guards enter, with Lieutenant Hammock on their heels, their weapons drawn. "Oh dear, perhaps I shouldn't have said anything."

As the Security staff moved towards where their Captain was standing with a knife to Montolongue's throat, the Ready Room lit up in the familiar red crackling glow that indicated that something had just came through the rift.

"Oh dear," sighed Montolongue again. "I am afraid it is already beginning, Captain."

Fleet Captain Anna Tor sheathed her dagger in her duty belt. "Bring him." She commanded as she quickly strode in the Command Center of Space Station Requiem. "Report." Her suddenly sharp voice commanded. The crew looked at each other uneasy at the harshness of her tone.

"A ship has come through the rift, Captain." Specialist Lester stated. "It's the U.S.S. Masamune..." He paled as he looked at the view screen. "But, Captain, they were destroyed 25 years ago!"

"Ensign Arizmendi, what is their temporal signature? Is she ours?" Anna asked of her Science Officer on the bridge. Her tone was hushed. She, herself was unsure how she should feel if it did belong to her dimension. The Crew of the U.S.S. Masamune had fought valiantly that day during the Dominion War. Only minor debris was found after the initial incident and seven minutes of hell when the rift first opened so many years ago.

"Scanning now, Captain. No sir, she isn't ours. She has United Federation of Planets markings and she's taken damage."

Specialist Lester interrupted, "Captain, we are being hailed."

"On view screen!"

"Audio only, Sir. They are still in the rift, Captain, and it's starting to close"

"This is the U.S.S. Masamune. We need help. Heavy damage, causalities, and injuries. Request immediate assistance."

"Lester, open frequency. Masamune, this is..." Anna paused briefly, torn as to whether or not she should identify herself and if it would have any meaning to the crew on that ship. "This is Space Station Requiem of the United Confederation of Planets. Are you able to maneuver out of your current position towards us?"

A relieved female voice replied, "Thank the great Bird of the Galaxy! We are home! Negative. All navigation is offline. Our Engineering room is non-responsive."

"Stand by for assistance." A quick turn of the head towards Admiral Wolberg. Both women nodded heads in understanding as the Admiral, and her crew, disappeared in a sparkling of lights. "The G.D.S. Dream Catcher is coming to get you. Have all hands hold on, it's about to get bumpy... again."

A brief moment later the GDS Dream Catcher began to maneuver towards the rift and the drifting starship. A tractor beam locked on. The Dream Catcher's audio of their crew working in practiced harmony, could be heard.

"Steady you don't lose that nacelle, Lieutenant."

"Aye Aye, Admiral."

"Harris, adjust the Temporal Flux to seven point three two eight nine mark six niner point zero one. Let's bring them fully into phase with us."

The light of a tractor beam that engulfed that Masamune began to resonate in different colors. For a brief moment, both ships disappeared and then reappeared next to the Space Station.

"Captain Tor, requesting permission to deposit the Masamune into docking bay seven for repairs." Admiral Wolberg's alto voice asked.

Sighing with relief, "Permission granted." With a quick glance at a display screen, Anna continued. "Docking Port 13 is available and will adequately hold her." A brief shimmer of light filled the view screen as the Masamune once again disappeared then reappeared on the view monitor, sitting pretty as a picture in the docking port.

"We've gotta get one of those." Lt. Hammock breathed in awe. Anna looked at him briefly, closed her eyes, and shook her head slightly in a disapproving manner. Having a crew with child-like awe and wonder at everything, was proving to be a challenge, especially with protocol.

"Lt Hammock, you're with me. Van Cleave, you have the command center." She straightened her uniform, glared at the sole remaining visitor from the Grand Duchy of Pikeland on her station. "Montolongue, walk with us."

Van Cleave looked at his mother's back as she left the bridge, once more, without him. "Yes, Sir." He muttered through clenched teeth and turned to see the rest of the Command Center Crew watching him. "Did she stutter?" He shot dirty looks at many. "We have work to do and a ship to repair. Get the Search and Rescue Crews moving along with repair teams."

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