The Time Voyager's Obsession

Compromised- I

“Simulation has been compromised, please prepare for immediate deactivation. Simulation has been compromised, please prepare for immediate deactivation,” the AI blared in repetition. Red light flashed in tandem with a projecting wail, only serving to disorient Hana further.

She covered her ears to the grating sound, rotating in a circle as her eyes searched wildly for some kind of control panel or kill switch. Of course, Hana saw nothing of the sort, everything in the simulated chamber being firmly rooted in virtual reality. She wouldn’t be able to control it from the inside. That would be up to Gnoab, and her faith in the man had been reduced to ash. It was he who had been hellbent on winning Tahlia’s cruel favor, after all. Perhaps he was even to blame for Hana’s current predicament.

The AI began to broadcast its apocalyptic message just as she watched Tiberius stumble out of Tahlia’s throne room. Hana felt her stomach roil with guilt and revulsion, her face etched with horror as blood pooled down the disgraced captain’s chest. Its flow stemmed from the jagged reminder of Tiberius's failure, written in flesh by Sano Var’s blade.

“You may think that you’re above approach, Tiberius, but you’re no different than Sano! You’re cold, selfish, and callous, and whether you’ll admit it or not, you stole my life from me!” Hana had wielded the ill-fated words as sure as any weapon, and they’d most assuredly found their mark. In truth, she owed the Voyager her life, but instead of being grateful, she’d mocked Tiberius in his pain. How was she any better than Tahlia? Tears rolled down Hana’s cheeks and she staggered back from the emptying hall in a daze.

Before she could exit the archived memory, everything had faded to black, and Hana had been jettisoned back into the central hall in which she first arrived. With each peal of the alarm, her desperation to be free of the simulation mounted.

“Computer, state required protocol for deactivation,” Hana cried out, her breath coming in short, frantic bursts.

“Voice command is currently offline. Simulation has been compromised, please prepare for immediate deactivation,” the AI continued its relentless chant.

“All hells,” Hana muttered, eyeing the labyrinth of passageways that spiraled out around her. She knew that they were only part of the simulation, but the cavernous tunnels looked ominous enough that she was reluctant to explore them for a potential exit.

“Simulation has been compromised, please prepare for immediate deactivation.”

“All hells, I know it’s been compromised!” Hana snapped at the malfunctioning system. “I’m as prepared as I’ll ever be, so deactivate, already!”

As the words left her lips, a terrible pain pierced through Hana’s temple, dropping her to her knees as a scream erupted from her lungs.

Without warning she was snapped back into consciousness, her senses fully aware as the projection needles withdrew from her skin like spools of wire. While Hana hadn’t felt their insertion, she could certainly feel their removal- a sharp, cold extraction that left her trembling with pain.

Able to move her head again, Hana peered down into the stasis chamber. Water sloshed around her legs, saturating through her clothing and matting the back of her short hair. Condensation blurred her view from the compartment window, and her breath heaved as Hana tried to make a quick assessment of her surroundings.

Lifting both hands, she brushed her palms over the fogged glass in an attempt to gain a clear view of the room. Water droplets trailed down her fingers and smeared across the pane. Through the blurred streams, she could make out dark figures moving beyond the stasis pod.

“Tiberius!” she cried out, banging her fists against the pod’s interior. It clanged hollowly, but Hana suspected that the chamber was likely soundproof. “Let me out!” she screamed with rising panic, the walls seeming to close in around her.

Suddenly the overhead hatch swung open to reveal Tiberius’s furious countenance glaring down at her. Hana was so relieved she could have kissed him, if not for the mix of charged emotions that kept her frozen in place. She had betrayed his confidence, accessing the Voyager’s most excruciating memories without his consent. A fresh wave of guilt swept over Hana as her eyes settled on the angry disfigurement, scarring the man from brow to chin. Her fingers itched to trace over the taut bunching of flesh, to unburden herself of the weight that had accumulated since witnessing Tiberius’s humiliation. His words cut through her hesitancy with a honed edge.

“The ship is under attack. You’re needed on the bridge,” the Voyager snapped, oblivious to Hana’s inner turmoil. Judging by his stern countenance, he was awaiting some form of rebuttal.

Tiberius thrust a towel in her direction before extending a hand to help Hana to her feet. She took it firmly, slinging a dripping leg over the side before wrapping herself in the soft cotton.

Her eyes fell to Gnoab’s lifeless body on the floor, lingering for a moment before flitting back up to meet her companion’s steely gaze.

“There’s no time. Come with me,” he demanded, taking her roughly by the hand.

“You’re injured,” she blurted out as Tiberius hauled her down the steep incline of stairs. Blood was seeping out of a wound in the man’s side and she pressed her fingers to it gingerly.

He stopped in his forward march to look down at her curiously. “You’re concerned,” he uttered in a bemused tone. “Are there no scathing rebukes from the walking moral compass of Hana Dari? No chastisements for the cold, callous monster who disposed of a sworn officer of the royal guard? That seems unlikely.”

In truth, Hana was relieved. She didn’t know what had come to pass between the two men, but after the things she had seen during her time in the simulation, Hana felt no pity for the fallen officer.

“You are my Captain, Tiberius,” Hana replied with cold resolve. “Who can I trust if not you? Besides, I happen to believe that Gnoab deserved his punishment. He was a man that needed killing.” Hana inspected the blood coloring her fingertips. “Is it deep?” she asked, glancing back up at Tiberius.

He was eyeing her strangely, danger lurking behind his thunderous gaze. At any moment, she was prepared to see lightning strike.

“Did he hurt you?” Tiberius growled in a low voice, regarding the dead man with a murderous rage.

“No. But I have no mercy for traitors,” Hana snarled without thinking.

Tiberius blinked, the tide of his ire receding to reveal the pain of suppressed memories. The Voyager had heard a similar sentiment from his cruel Queen, not so many years ago.

He took a menacing step forward, suspicion etched into the lines of his face. “What did you just say?”

“What’s happening, Tiberius? What threat are we facing?” Hana asked quickly, deflecting the question with some choice ones of her own. She wasn’t ready to confront the things she’d seen in sim, or to atone for them. Furthermore, Hana suspected that Tiberius wouldn’t take kindly to her intrusion, and with all havoc breaking loose, she needed her Captain by her side.

“Tarthacs. We’re crossing through their territory, restricted space C9,” Tiberius informed her, blinking away the haunted look from his face before resuming his brisk pace.

“I thought Jael said they were unlikely to attack an imperial carrier bound on a home course. Has the situation become more dire?” Hana asked with a furrowed brow.

“Jael is a well-informed man. He was speaking from previous experience, but that was before someone hacked into the vessel’s central command system and sent out a coded message to the Tarthacs, alerting them to your presence.”

“Gnoab?” Hana asked keeping pace with the Voyager’s long strides.

“I suspect that it was him, yes, but I would find it difficult to question him now.”

Hana raised a brow. “You killed him without interrogating him first. You’re a rash man, but rarely stupid. What reason did he give you?” she queried practically. From the corner of her eye she saw Tiberius avert his gaze, a look of remorse crossing his rugged features.

“There are things I haven’t told you, Hana. Things I couldn’t tell you until I was sure that I had gained your full, unsolicited trust.”

“And have you, in your honest appraisal, managed to gain that trust?” Hana teased lightly.

“Oh, undoubtedly,” Tiberius scoffed sardonically, turning on her with an incredulous expression. “What happened to you in that simulation? Where did your mind wander off to? You haven’t been so agreeable towards me in days, not since Jael’s momentous arrival on Hausafan.”

“For now, let’s just say I’ve gained some perspective,” Hana replied dismissively, resuming a brisk pace in an attempt to hide away her confused emotions. She needed to focus on steeling herself in preparation for the turmoil that awaited them on the bridge.

“Hana,” Tiberius halted her, his fingers catching lightly around the wrist. She looked over her shoulder at him in surprise, her skin reacting to his touch with a flush of heat. “I owe you an apology. That day on the beach, I acted dishonorably, out of anger and pain. I should not have kissed you.”

The admission stung more than she would have expected. Perhaps part of her was hoping that he wasn’t sorry at all. Hana regarded the floor, reigning in her wounded pride before answering.

“I accept your apology. That kiss wasn’t meant for me anyway, was it, Tiberius?” Her eyes rose slowly to meet the Voyager’s troubled gaze, watching as his lips parted wordlessly.

Before he could fill the silence between them, footsteps sounded down the corridor.

“Captain Jael?” Hana greeted the man in bewilderment, unwittingly referring to him by his lost title.

“It’s Lieutenant Commander Jael now, Your Divine Eminence,” he corrected with a low bow. “Captain Var has paid this humble servant the honor of naming me his second in command.” The rift between the two men had obviously narrowed in her absence.

“You’re healed,” Hana stated the obvious, assessing his form for signs of injury. “How long have I been in sim?”

“Nine days,” Tiberius answered solemnly, falling back seamlessly into his role as advisor. “It is as I told you, my Queen, injuries heal quickly in sim. Our physicians were able to attend to Jael as they were to you.”

Hana placed a hand on her rib cage, recognizing the absence of pain for the first time since she’d sustained her injury. It was still tender to the touch, but the bone had mended. The thought that she would be able to manage without Tiberius’s aid was a freeing one. Hana didn’t want to feel beholden to anyone, especially when transported to a universe that was foreign to her. She had sworn to follow the Voyager’s lead, but at least physically she could now act of her own volition.

“Chief Gream has hailed us, Captain Var. He demands to see our Queen. What would you have us do?” Jael queried, eyeing Hana nervously.

“We shall grant him his audience, but wait for my word, Commander.”

Jael nodded and proceeded ahead of them, stopping to open the airlock before assuming his position back on the bridge. When the doors had closed behind him, Tiberius turned to face her.

“Let me lead, Hana. The Tarthacs are not to be trifled with. You can bet that their ship is outfitted for war, and far more weaponized than our own. They will not hesitate to kill every man, woman, and child aboard this vessel to get what they want. Gream will expect you to know his home tongue of Tarthan, so just let me do the talking.”

“Why is my presence necessary if I am not to speak with them? What exactly are the Tarthacs after?” Hana asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Tiberius’s jaw clenched tightly, a nervous hand rising to swipe at his lips. “This is what I alluded to earlier, but I don’t have time to relay all of the political intricacies to you now. In brief, not all Naphans will be waiting to welcome their Queen home with open arms. The consensus on Tahlia’s disappearance from Naphus is heavily divided. Those who witnessed the event firsthand know her to be dead. Yet, a rumor persists amongst the Xeunese that Tahlia somehow managed to escape from the planet with Sano Var. She has been named a war criminal by their leader, and a bounty placed on her head.”

“On my head, you mean?” Hana corrected with wide-eyed fear, taking a step backward. “I have been named a war criminal. So, the Tarthacs have come to collect their bounty? Why have you brought me here, Tiberius?”

Before she could blink, he had reclaimed the distance between them, grasping onto Hana’s shoulders with an unyielding grip. Whether it was to steady her, or to hold her captive, she could not say.

“No harm will come to you as long as I have breath in my lungs. I swear it. I am asking you to trust me, Hana. I had no choice but to bring you here. Naphus is your destiny, as mine was to find you. Please, trust me as your Captain. I will not fail you.”

“You had better not, Tiberius Var, or I swear to spend what’s left of this lifetime, and every one after, making your existence a living hell,” Hana hissed, brushing off his embrace as she marched towards the bridge.