Pilot Episode, Act I

The picture fades in to show a Starfleet shuttlecraft in flight, following it as it moves through space. As the camera pulls back to reveal that the ship is approaching a space station, we hear a voice, filtered through a comm system: "Gaia Station, this is the shuttlecraft USS Willamette requesting permission to dock."

"Roger, Willamette. You are clear to dock in port 14B."

The shuttle moves toward a port where a door is slowly opening, but the camera is already swinging around the station and zooming in on a set of large windows into the operations area of Gaia. We travel visually through the window and above ops, where a few people are scattered - some at computer stations, a couple standing in discussion at a holoscreen pointing to some sort of map, someone crossing to a turbolift and disappearing as the doors close behind them.

The camera seems to sink through the floor, down several levels and through a couple of lateral movements, to where the doors of the turbolift open and the person, a young man, gets out and walks briskly through the maze of a large bay area. There are stacks of boxes and barrels and various other shipping containers being methodically moved to a transporter platform sent away to somewhere. The whole place is bustling with activity.

The man we've been following arrives at docking area, which if we're looking closely, is labeled 14B. He stands expectantly, wearing a friendly expression, as the shuttle Willamette docks and the door opens. He glances at the tablet he's holding when a woman exits the shuttle. He's clearly comparing her to an image on the tablet. He moves toward her, smiling. He's quite ridiculously happy-looking, in fact.

"Captain McCurry," he says enthusiastically when he reaches her, "welcome to Gaia Station! Lt. Daniel Blakeney. Hope you had a pleasant journey from the Dauntless. Long trip in a shuttlecraft, wasn't it, sir?"

Capt. McCurry's eyes narrow slightly, possibly a little suspicious of Blakeney's exuberance. But he's already moving, leading her through the controlled chaos. "Commander Little wanted to greet you himself, but something came up. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to his office. Watch your step, sir. All of this equipment and supplies are for the Hodgkin!"

He seems very excited about that. McCurry's starting to realize this is just his natural state. She follows him to the turbolift. Blakeney continues to speak to her, his voice continuing even after the doors to the lift close.

We cut to back to ops, where the doors to the lift are just opening. Blakeney is still talking, and from the expression on McCurry's face, he's barely taken a breath since the docking bay.

The doors to an office open as they approach and a graying man of about fifty steps through. He has a careworn appearance, like he's perpetually tired because there are so many damn people in the universe, but perversely, his eyes are kind.

As Blakeney starts to introduce McCurry, Little says,"I'll take it from here, Danny."

"Yes, sir. I was just explaining to the capt--"

"Blakeney."

"Yes, sir."

Neither man is upset or tense; it's clear this sort of exchange is normal between them, and they're both fine with it.

As Blakeney happily moves on to his next exciting task, the man shakes hands with McCurry. "Dwight Little. Welcome to Gaia."

He welcomes her into the office with a gesture. Through the windows in his office, we get a dramatic look at what looks like a foreboding net of energy not far in the distance from the space station.

Audience Pool: 5

Little's head spins as he looks at her in surprise, then he laughs. His whole face suddenly looks like everyone's favorite uncle. He should laugh more often; he's good at it.

"Well, I guess that answers the question of whether you could possibly be as brazen as your reputation suggests," he says, but his expression is friendly. He waves at a chair in front of the desk and drops into the one behind it, giving her a sizing-up gaze that somehow manages not to be threatening or insulting. "Since we're on a lurid-story basis here, let me ask you something, Captain." He lets that hang a moment, possibly to give her the opportunity to object. "Are you really up for this?"

Little doesn't return her smirk. "I think you know what I meant by that question, Captain, but..." He shrugs, leaning back in his chair and smiling. "This is all above my pay grade. I'm just a washed up old officer finishing out a modest career overseeing a broken-down space station until retirement day." It's clear that this is an exaggeration, and one he relishes putting on.

"Anyway, we've assigned you and your crew quarters for when you're docked here. They aren't fancy, but they're homey. Or can be, if you put homey things inside them." He stands up. "I know you haven't had a chance to see the Hodgkin yet. Let's go--"

The doors to the office slide open. A tall man a bit older than Little but whose bearing constantly suggests the question, Don't you know who I am? strides in without so much as ringing the door chime.

From outside the office, Blakeney can be seen belatedly announcing, "Commander! Admiral Hamilton is here."

Hamilton fixes Little with a stern look of disapproval. Little bears it calmly - it seems to be something he's practiced. "Hello, Admiral. I was about to call you to--"

The admiral cuts off the sentence with a chopping motion of his hand. "Save it, commander. I told you I wanted to go with you to greet Captain McCurry when she arrived. And yes, I'm aware that you got around that by sending that human cricket to greet her instead."

Turning to finally face McCurry, Hamilton jerks his head as he says, "You're with me," then walks out of the office.

"Guess he didn't notice how fantastic you look in red," Little murmurs. But he's smiling as he says it.

The admiral hadn't paused or slowed to wait for her to catch up, and he's not even looking back as he strides ahead. Somehow, even so, he knows when she's taken up her position because he starts speaking immediately, and without preamble.

"This mission is years in the making, and I've been an integral part of it every step of the way. The USS Dauntless was part of my chain of command."

McCurry knows the history of the Federation's accidental discovery of the entanglement field, known as the Tangle, when the unfortunate Dauntless encountered it as part of a routine exploration of deep space and found itself rocketed unexpectedly lightyears away, far from the Tangle and eventually through an asteroid belt. The ship sustained significant damage and lost some crew. McCurry wasn't aware that the Dauntless had been under Hamilton's oversight.

Hamilton enters the turbolift and tells it, "Main lab" as McCurry gets on. He still doesn't bother to look at her. As he continues, the lights on the wall suggest the lift is traveling up several levels and moving laterally from time to time.

"When we investigated the phenomenon and discovered the planet Inphir, I was part of the team that organized first contact. I spent years forging a delicate, painstaking trust with the Inphirians. When the fallout from your previous attempt at command blew that trust all to hell, I fought hard to maintain Gaia as a permanent research station to study various aspects of the Tangle. I've been overseeing anywhere from twelve to thirty-seven separate lines of scientific inquiry ever since."

The turbolift doors open and Hamilton steps out, expecting McCurry to follow, which she does. He begins walking through a large lab filled with various computers, screens, and what appear to be different kinds of scientific equipment. "I've carefully, lovingly nurtured the Federation presence outside of the Tangle. Cared for it like a sickly, delicate tree, and for one reason: Because if that tree survived, it might bear fruit of inestimable value."

He arrives at a computer station and nods to a technician, who recognizes him and steps back to give him access. Hamilton punches a couple of buttons, and McCurry realizes that whatever he wants to show her, he's already arranged to have it ready to bring up.

A series of pictures begins to rapidly cycle on the screen. First, official portraits of healthy humans, followed by timestamped medical record photos of each one obviously deteriorating in health. It starts with hollowed-out, dark-circled eyes and progresses to each person becoming a gaunt and twisted shell of their former selves. At first, it's just people in Starfleet or Federation science uniforms. Eventually, there are photos of children. There must be hundreds of pictures in the file he's displaying.

And finally, he turns to look at McCurry. At this point, she knows exactly what point Hamilton is trying to make, but he's going to spell it out anyway.

"Veseggian Syndrome. It's killed thousands of people. Tens of thousands more are fighting it right now. All of them will die, because the only effective treatment requires Priosium-6, and it's vanishingly rare."

Hamilton points to a window where the Tangle makes a strangely clinical backdrop in this setting. "The Tangle produces Priosium-6 particles. The surface of Inphir is rich with an impacted build-up of Priosium. With access to that resource, we could cure every single person with pre-stage four Veseggian. We could develop a vaccine. We'd have had all of that by now, if your abortive command attempt hadn't prompted the Inphirians to cut off contact."

He fixes McCurry with a glare that might possibly be lethal in a more oxygen-rich atmosphere. "I wanted to make it crystal clear to you what the Hodgkin's mission is about. I wanted to make sure you're aware of what's at stake, and I wanted you to understand that I'm in charge. This isn't your second chance at command, McCurry. It's the last chance for all of these people."

The slideshow continues. The photos now bear very recent timestamps.

One might expect the admiral to react angrily to such a brazen display of hubris. Instead, he looks as though she's just confirmed what he already knew and expected. He huffs a bitter laugh.

"You're exactly the same arrogant fool you were four years ago. Alvarez must have cashed in every chip she's ever had to get them to override my recommendation. So let me make some else clear to you, McCurry. With the exception of you, every crew member on the Hodgkin has been vetted and handpicked by me. Every one of them has relevant experience that makes them uniquely qualified both for their position on the ship and their participation in its unique mission. I have complete confidence in all of the people that I selected."

He leans closer for emphasis. "So if this mission does manage to go sideways, I will know exactly where to place the blame."

Hamilton pauses to give his words a chance to sink in, then says, "Dismissed" in the most dismissive tone possible. He turns to walk toward a corridor, clearly a man with somewhere else to be. The camera follows him momentarily before pivoting back toward McCurry and her facial expression as the import of what just happened does, in fact, sink in. But then the lens' focus shifts to show Lt. Blakeney standing about six feet away, visible over her right shoulder.

For an instant, Blakeney's face is wide-eyed and chagrined, indicating that he may have heard quite a bit of what was said and regrets his timing. Then he slips back into his cheerful demeanor and says, "Oh, good, Captain, I found you. I'm here to show you to your quarters on the station. I could have just sent you the room number, but honestly, this place is a bit of a maze, so I thought I'd make it easier on you."

Blakeney nods, still smiling pleasantly, and leads the way back through the lab to the turbolift. The whole time, he's pointing out helpful items of orientation and rattling of points of interest or things she'll need to know to get around the station on her own. It's hard to know whether it's funny and endearing or providing a justification for future homicide.

"Almost two and a half years, sir. Well, two years, four months, and twenty... six days." Blakeney's face screws into a slight frown as he calculates the exact duration of his tenure. "I was assigned here as an ensign. Within six months, I knew the whole station layout as well as people who'd been here for years. A year later, I was promoted to lieutenant and put in charge of Ops. But I'm certainly ready for the new challenge, sir!" He beams at her as then turbolift doors open and he leads you into a dark corridor. It doesn't look like this is a crew quarters area.

Blakeney laughs, tentatively. It's the first utterance he's made that didn't have absolute conviction, and while it's obvious that he's suddenly feeling a little unsure of himself, it's not clear why.

"Well... I'm referring to her, of course, sir." He's gesturing toward a place just around the corner, bidding her to round it and take a look.

There's a large set of windows here, offering a breathtaking view of a starship docked outside of Gaia.

McCurry stares at the Hodgkin as we hear Blakeney talking in a somewhat reverent tone.

"Olympic class - first of her kind. But she's fully reliable and spaceworthy, Captain. I've done exhaustive research into all of her systems. She may be a prototype, but she's gonna take good care of us."

Blakeney looks stricken. "I'm sorry, sir. I thought I'd sent you the crew manifest earlier this week." He's already tapping furiously at his tablet. "Sending it for sure right now. But yes, captain. I'm your Ops officer."

He smiles, with slightly less than his normal wattage.

Blakeney smiles, full confidence restored.

End of Scene 1

Fan Mail Awarded: 3
Budget Spent: 1
Audience Pool: 3