These are the Voyages of the U.S.S. Odin - 1. Chapter 1: Origin and Odyssey

Personal Log: Commander Garric, Captain of the U.S.S. Colorado – Terran Date: February 1, 2410 – Location: In Route to Earth

I’ve been recalled back to Starfleet headquarters, and the worse part, I don’t know why. The last time I was recalled by to Earth Spacedock, I was given command of a Miranda-Class light escort, called the U.S.S. Atlantis, and then was sent to patrol the front lines in the ongoing Klingon war. You’d think with all the other issues going on, the Klingons would lay down arms, but no. They are all in to win, and the Federation needs to be as well. Just once, I wish there will be no surprises.

I’ll always remember the short stay on Atlantis; it was my first command after graduating from Starfleet Academy in early 2409. Seen more than a few engagements with enemy forces over the past year, and a kill record I’m not proud of. On more than one occasion, we gave aid to the survivors of the ships we destroyed… well, those that weren’t too stubborn to die when their ship went down. Barely a Lieutenant and running my first starship; the Federation must have been scraping the bottom of the barrel then, and still are now. Anyone with a pulse and decent grades is getting ship commands nowadays. Have we fallen that low?

From the Atlantis, I was transferred to a Dakota-class Heavy Cruiser called the U.S.S. Colorado with a promotion to Commander; jumping a rank grade in the process. I’ve been on this ship only four months now and got the orders to return to Earth just an hour ago. At our ship’s maximum warp speed, we’ll be in the Sol system in less than a day. I could have ordered the use of the Transwarp Gateway, but the orders didn’t specify speed was an issue.

Have I mentioned lately, how much I hate the Stardate system? We can’t even agree with the other races, on a system to use. Everyone has different dates for the same thing. Annoying. I only mention it, because of Captain Keller, my taskforce commander, hates that I use Terran Dating, and has threatened a formal reprimand if I don’t start using it. In order to avoid that, I’m putting in a formal request for deviation based on cultural diversity. Seeing as I’m one-of-a-kind, I should be able to get it through with no issues.

Damn. I will not allow myself to fall into a depression. Being the single, solitary, known member of your race, has some major drawbacks. I’ve spoken about this before, and even recorded it in my personal logs; however, the counselor says it’s best to repeat myself least I forget my own history. Heh… But, I like Counselor Alice Dexi, she’s a smart Joined Trill woman and knows how to handle a telepath, like myself. So here’s another rehash of my “history.”

It was January 10, 2395, when a Starfleet research vessel the U.S.S. Pathways encountered an unknown alien spacecraft in the Orion Sector. It was a drifting through at a 10-degree retrograde, was a derelict spaceship, barely functional for life support, and of an unknown design. Scorch marks along the hull suggestion some sort of Trans-Subspace incident, or later as I learned, they had no clue how they happened. But the evidence suggested something happened to the propulsion system, at a high rate of speed, through subspace.

The spacecraft was deserted, with only trace amounts of DNA residue in the usual places one would find it. Computer interface was via touchscreens, and holographic interface, somewhat Tholian-like in design. The computer core itself was damaged beyond repair, for Starfleet, and most of the data had been wiped. There was barely enough operational power for the computer to run the Life Support systems, and the cryo-stasis tube chambers. No lifepods or shuttles were found on the craft. They had either been not there or jettisoned when the incident happened. I was found in one of the tubes. Supposedly, there may have been another body found in one, but I was the only one alive.

Starfleet records had never cataloged my species before, and I was tagged with a number: Species 8501. In the fifteen Sol years since I have yet to encounter another living soul of my species. Well, back to what they found. In the cryo-stasis tube, was me, at what appeared to be a 10-year-old in human years, male being, bipedal, with albino white skin, and no body hair. I do have hair on my head, but it doesn’t grow past the two inches it’s been since I came out of the tube. Even shaved off, when it grows back, it stops at exactly two inches, and always ends in a messy mop. My eyes are solid red orbs, but I see in the normal human spectrum and have night vision. I hear in the normal spectrum for humans as well, despite having Vulcan like pointed ears. They took blood samples, and that turned out to be very unique… a purple color, which changed between lighter and darker depending on oxygen content.

When they awoke me, it took a week for the universal translator to decode the language I was speaking, and it would be another year for me to learn to read/write/speak English. I was diagnosed with traumatic amnesia stemming from a long hibernation in cryo-stasis. I could talk, but I had no knowledge of who I was, what my race was, where I was from, or how I came to be about on the ship. After a few hours with the researchers, I was transported back to Pathways, and Section 31 commandeered the spacecraft I was located in. More tests and it was soon learned that I possessed Psionic talents of Telepathy and Telekinesis; traits not unheard of in any of the known areas of the four quadrants, but unusual to have them in one person. From there, I’ll let my record stand, and if someone views this log in the future, well you already have access to everything else.

Computer, pause recording….

!*!*!*!

“Come,” Captain Garric said, and the computer replayed the greeting while it opened the door. “Lt. CMD Daniels, how can I help you?” He watched as his First Officer stepped into his ready room, and motioned for the man to have a seat.

“I just received an encoded message from Starfleet Command, directly from Senior Fleet Admiral Quinn. Regarding new orders, and I’m a little confused. Which is why I came here, before responding,” Daniels said as he sat down across from his Captain.

Garric motioned for him to continue. An air of worry came over his face.

“Well, it seems that I’m being promoted to Commander, and I’m to assume command of the Colorado once we reach Earth. I’m stunned, to say the least. Fleet Admiral Quinn stated it was not due to any wrongdoing, on your part. That you’re being reassigned, and I quote, ‘Make sure Commander Garric is packed, dressed in his Class “A” Dress Uniform, and have his personal belongings transferred to Spacedock for his reassignment immediately. A shuttle will be waiting, when you reach port.’”

Garric sat back in the chair, and puzzlement replaced the worried look he had. He looked around the Captain’s Ready Room that had been his shipboard office for the last four months and sighed deeply. “Didn’t even have time to fine tune the seat controls,” he muttered and looked at his First Officer. “Congratulations are in order, and I think you’ll be a fine Captain for this crew, Geoff. I recommended you for promotion, shortly after I came aboard, but hadn’t heard anything.”

“Thank you, Captain. It was an honor to serve with you, for the brief time. Do you have an idea where you’re going?”

“Wish I knew. Hell, you found out more than I did. I have the suspicion that Captain Keller, is behind this, and I’ll be running a garbage barge dropping loads out onto stars.”

“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”

“Geoff, you know it’s always granted.”

“There’s more than just Keller gunning for you. When we were docked at Starbase 407, I was able to talk to the First Officer of the Icuras. He was very adamant that we should watch out for the ‘alien albino,’ and that Starfleet Intelligence was combing your records. I asked how he knew, and he said they intercepted a transmission from a forward outpost, that was to be relayed to Starfleet Command. Wouldn’t divulge anything else, and I dismissed it as just prejudice. But, now…”

Garric let out a long sigh, and nodded at Geoff, “How about a drink?” Geoff nodded his agreement, and Garric stood up, moved to the locker cabinet on the side wall. He pulled out two glasses, and some Romulan Ale, and proceeded to pour them each a drink.

“To changes and good fortune for both of us,” Garric toasted. They clinked glasses, and down the ale. Garric returned to his seat, after pouring another round, and sat the bottle on the desk. “Starfleet Intelligence isn’t the only ones. I’ve heard about them for a while now, but could never prove it. Yes, there will always be prejudices, but they are few and far between in the Fleet.” He sipped more of the Ale and looked at his First Officer. “If we’re going to lay all the cards on the table, it could highly be Section 31.”

“What?” Geoff chuckled, “Section 31 is so covert, that even covert operatives think they don’t exist. They’re the boogie-men used to scare Ensigns.” Jokingly he said.

“Heh… I wish that was true. No, they are real. They were really pissed when I was accepted into Tactical and Command Training at the Academy. One of their recruiters at the Academy tried to dissuade me from accepting because ‘What would happen if the only living known member of Species 8501 was killed?’” Garric shook his head, and continued, “I told them, that they needed to find more.”

Geoff sat dumbfounded, and slowly shook his head, “Section 31… damn, all this time I thought they were a myth.”

“Most do. Such an open secret, 85% think it’s some conspiracy theory designed to cause trouble. When I was found, they were the ones bankrolling, if you will, the research project. Then the Captain of the Pathways got me into a science program on Earth, with Asylum in the United Federation of Planets. They commandeered the ship, and everything onboard, and I went to Earth, and became an official ward of the Federation. They approached me before I went to enlist into Starfleet, and again during my second year, trying to recruit me into their service.”

“Did you? Is that why you’re telling me this?”

“Actually, I told them no. However, I know for a fact I was transferred to the Colorado from the Atlantis because of them. We’ve been doing escort runs, and cake walks for the last four months. They got their wish. Species 8501 was nowhere near the front lines, once they pulled some strings.”

“You think they did it again?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them. They’ve had an unhealthy interest in me over the years.”

!*!*!*!

Location: Earth Spacedock – Main Concourse

Commander Garric walked out the Shuttle Bay, and onto the Main Concourse of Earth Spacedock. It was a towering, massive, metropolis of a space station, sitting in geosync orbit above the planet, off the west coast of the old United States of America. The upper portion of the station housed a massive docking bay, where several Starfleet ships were docked inside. Hundreds more sat in orbit around the station, either in geosync orbits or at drydock stations near the station. The Shuttle Bay and Main Concourse were on a section of deck 47, with giant observation windows, that let one see into the inside docking bay on the inner track. The outer track of the Main Concourse was made up of shops, offices, and other facilities for Starfleet Officers and Enlisted.

Having secured his belongings with Fleet Logistics, Commander Garric made his way towards the senior Fleet Admiral’s space-side office. The cavernous area was large, with greenery and open waterworks, which looked like waterfalls and streams traveling from the outer track to the inner. The shipyard services sat in an open area pit near the center of the inner track, and the opposite of that was the open entrance to Starfleet’s Space-side command center. He turned and headed into the large opening, flanked by security.

As he approached the opening, both security personnel snapped to attention and saluted him. Stunned, Commander Garric looked around for a flag officer, before turning to security, and giving them a returned salute. He put it out of his mind, as he continued in, and made his way to the Fleet Admiral’s office.

“Commander Garric,” the aide said as he walked in. She was an Ensign, and sat behind a desk, diligently typing away. “You’re early, but that’s good. The Fleet Admiral has moved the meeting to the secure conference room on Deck 32, and the time was changed as well. It’ll start after lunch, at 14:00 station time.”

“Um, thank you, Ensign…?”

“Sorry, Sir. Ensign Rodgers. Also, the Admiral wanted you to check in with Captain Sulu.”

“Thank you, Ensign Rodgers. I’ll head that way now,” Garric replied with a smile.

!*!*!*!

Garric walked into Station Commander, Captain Akira Sulu’s office. Akira Sulu was the great-grandson of the famous Captain Hikaru Sulu, who served on the Enterprise with James T. Kirk. He stood at attention before the captain, after he gave him a crisp salute.

“Commander Garric, reporting as ordered, Sir.”

“At ease Commander, please have a seat,” Sulu stated as he motioned at a chair in front of his desk.

It was a smaller office, as part of a larger suite, and it was smartly furnished. Sulu’s decorations and ribbons from his career as a Starfleet officer were displayed on a mantlepiece to the side, and some artwork adorned the walls.

“Sir, do you mind if I speak freely?” Garric asked.

“Of course, we have a lot to discuss, before your meeting with the Admiral.’

“May I ask why I was recalled to Spacedock?”

“You’re being reassigned to a new ship as its Captain, and a new mission, one that you are rightly suited for, Commander. It will also come with an increase of rank, temporary or permanent depending on circumstances.”

“Thank you, Sir. I’m speechless,” Garric said. “May I ask what ship? I’m assuming it will be a Light or Heavy Cruiser or a Patrol Escort.”

Sulu smiled and shook his head no. “It’s not one of those. It’s actually two ships… You’re being placed in command of an Odyssey-class dreadnaught and exploration cruiser, and their attached companion starship, an Aquarius-class destroyer. The U.S.S. Odin which just finished space trials.”

Garric sat stunned and just looked at Captain Sulu. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not kidding, Commander. Where you’re going, you’ll need it, and its firepower. However, that will be discussed later, in the meeting with the Admiral.”

Garric just shook his head and looked at the Captain. “I'm wondering what the Rank increase is. Those ships are top of the line.”

“You’re being promoted to Rear Admiral, Lower Half, for the duration of the mission. You also will be promoted to a Diplomatic rank of Envoy as well. Both of which may become permanent depending on the duration and how well you do your mission.”

!*!*!*!

Personal Log: Rear Admiral Garric, Captain of the U.S.S. Odin – Terran Date: February 5, 2410 – Location: Earth Orbit

It was a shock for certain. I’ve taken command of Starfleet’s sixth Odyssey-class starship, the U.S.S. Odin and its companion starship the U.S.S. Odin’s Spear in a lovely ceremony. It was an occasion I was ill-prepared for, and I hope my nervousness was not on full display for all to see.

Our mission is a complicated one, and it stems from the new incursion by the Borg into the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, and the continuing Iconian escalation. I feel if things continue to progress with the Iconians, we will be at full war with them by summer in Earth time. With the discovery of the Dyson Sphere in the Romulan Republic space and another in the Delta Quadrant, Starfleet felt we should do a joint venture with the Romulan Republic and the Klingon Empire. A truce and an alliance have formed and the task of the Odin is now to explore the Delta Quadrant. My ship is being deployed with one goal in mind. Find a way to end both conflicts. Either diplomatically, or with new technology found in our travel.

My crew is predominantly Starfleet, but members of the Romulan Republic, who have aligned themselves with the Federation, are to be stationed with us. The Klingon Empire refused to lend personnel to the ship and instead sent an “advisor” to help. In a show of goodwill, I chose one of the Romulans as my First Officer, and I’m placing the Klingon advisor as Caption of Odin’s Spear.

As a secondary purpose, I’ve been informed by Starfleet command, that some wreckage of a starship was found in the Delta Quadrant, which matched the ship I was found in. Starfleet feels that it is possible that Species 8501 may be located in the area, and felt having me be Captain of the Odin, might help in First Contact. I have the prospect of meeting my own people.

Computer end recording.