Two Crews, One Problem (Part 1)

Posted on Wed Jun 3rd, 2026 @ 3:36am by Captain Violet Bluegarden & Commander Jason Reeves & Lieutenant Commander Julian Wishmore & Lieutenant Hikari Takanashi & Lieutenant Irril Sharvo

1,800 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: What's Past is Present
Location: Conference Room

The morning so far had been an... Interesting one, to say the least: For both the crew of 2373 and 2293, the other crew's sudden appearance and the 80 year disparity between them was a freaky experience. One crew didn't even know what a combadge or a holodeck was, let alone aware that the galaxy was in a state of war, and that would be a significant problem for the other.

Upon reports that the different crews seemed to "phase through" various objects around the ship, the conference room had been examined to see if anybody would even be able to sit at the table, or if it would be standing room only for everyone. The examination yielded good news and bad news. All the chairs in the conference room were usable, but half could only be used by the 2293 crew while the other half could only be used by the 2373 crew. Further compounding the issue was that there seemed to be no clear divide with which chairs could be used by which crew. As such, the Monster Maroon and the new Wartime Grey would have to sit side by side with whichever chair was tangible to them. And even then, table space was still limited, and with two crews to debrief, things were going to get crowded.

For Agent Sanchez of the Department of Temporal Investigations, the chief officer of the Department assigned to The Sullivans for this assignment in the Rhydonia sector, this was something he had never seen in his career. He and two of his colleagues arrived to the conference room to find the two Captain Bluegardens separated by 80 years talking about the impending logistical nightmare.

"Captain Bluegarden, Captain Bluegarden." Sanchez nodded to both Rebecca and Violet. "You're... Violet Bluegarden, correct?" He asked Violet.

"That's me." Violet nodded.

"I'm agent Deville Sanchez, Department of Temporal Investigations." Sanchez introduced himself. "These two are agent Stevens, and agent Daniels. I'd shake your hand, but... The way things are, I'd probably phase right through it."

"No worries." Violet replied. "It puts me at ease just to know that Great Grand Mamaw here already had folks from DTI on hand, and hopefully we can sort this all out."

"I hope so, too, Captain." Sanchez agreed.

------

In the Labs, Keeli sat, staring at herself. At least...she thought it was herself. She'd brought up a mirror on the PADD. The face that stared back was indeed hers-same smooth, pale skin, spill of greenish spots down the sides of her face. Weiiirrdd. She still couldn't figure out what was happening, but she'd gotten word that she wasn't the only one. The Doc had called up to her, inquiring if seeing "visions" was a sign of any disease she'd heard of, or even some kind of scientific anomaly, such as a Tacyhon attack. When she'd replied in the negative, he'd explained. Now, she was waiting for him to send up the biological data. That would tell them more. For now? It was a waiting game, one that she was holding close to herself, for now.

-----

The doors to the conference room hissed open with one side sliding with a mechanical grind and the other with a silent, modern whisk as the two lieutenants arrived for the debriefing.

Lieutenant Tugril entered with the air of a man arriving at a gala rather than a temporal crisis. He took one look at the crowded room and the logistical nightmare of the seating arrangements and decided he wasn't going to fight for a chair. Instead, he glided toward the head of the table, leaning his hip against a console that half-flickered in and out of existence. He caught the eye of the 24th Century The Sullivans' tactical officer, his gaze lingering with an intensity that was both disarming and calculated.

Tugril ran a hand over the smooth line of his head, his smirk widening as he noticed the "future" crew staring. He knew he was a striking sight in his bold maroon tunic, and he leaned back just enough to let the fabric pull tight across his chest. "If we’re going to be occupying the same space," he whispered to no one in particular, though his eyes were locked on a startled Lieutenant, "I certainly hope the 24th century has improved upon the concept of... close quarters."

Lieutenant Irril Sharvo followed a few paces behind, clutching a PADD as if it were a shield. Unlike the Deltan, Irril’s energy was focused entirely outward, his eyes scanning the room to gauge the emotional temperature of the gathered officers. He saw the tension, the fear, and the sheer exhaustion on the faces of both crews. He felt an instinctive urge to move among them, to offer a reassuring word or a steadying hand, but the "phasing" made that a delicate dance.

He found a seat near the middle of the table and sat down with a quiet, dignified grace as he read from his PADD. He found himself sitting directly "inside" the space occupied by a 23rd-century science officer, their shoulders overlapping in a shimmering haze of blue and red. "I apologize for the intrusion," Irril said, offering the older officer a sincere, warm smile that reached his eyes. "I'll try to keep my elbows to my own century."

Behind the two men, Cdr. Reex brought up the rear. Her clone...copy...whatever...was still in the lab, under a forcefield. She was a scientist, so she was both skeptical AND smart. Since they didn't know what was going on, she had felt that the safest bet was to keep the person under a safety shield. Silently, she took a post near the door, not sitting, though she normally did.

As the DTI agents began to speak, Irril felt the familiar prickle of anxiety. These agents specialized in the past in uncovering truths that time had tried to bury. He shifted in his seat, his throat tight. He wasn't just worried about the ship's timeline; he was terrified of any scrutiny that might dig too deep into the Sharvo name. He stayed silent, projecting an image of the perfect, attentive Chief of Operations, while his mind raced to ensure his father’s shadow stayed in the dark.

The doors slid open again, and in strode the powerful frame of the Betalgeusian Chief of Security, Lieutenant Commander Jo'ohn el-Altaa. He strode purposefully towards both Captains Bluegarden and reported in. "Captains," he nodded to both women respectfully. "After going over all of the contact reports, it seems that only twenty of the original crew have manifested on the current The Sullivans." He looked at Violet and asked, "If the DTI knew about this encounter, wouldn't it have made sense for them to put agents on our ship?"

"If we had notified the DTI that we'd be taking a shortcut through the Rhydonian Nebula, maybe they would have." Violet replied. "However, as we are in a time of war in our time, such a request would have taken time and run the risk of being intercepted. At which point, the element of surprise would be gone."

Irril sat as still as the Bajoran architecture of his youth, his spine a rigid line of practiced composure. Inside, however, his mind was a beehive of logistical checklists and empathetic static. He could feel the literal hum of the 23rd-century officer overlapping with his left shoulder, a feeling not too dissimilar to what it felt like when his arm fell asleep, pins and needles made of pure time. His fingers tightened slightly on his PADD as he forced himself to breathe, the rhythm steady and quiet. He felt the weight of the room - the jagged, sharp anxiety of the younger Captain Bluegarden and the seasoned, weary tension of the elder. He wanted to harmonize them, to bridge the eighty-year gap with the same efficiency he used to manage power distribution. But then there was the DTI.

His gaze flickered toward Agent Sanchez. The grey-clad men represented everything Irril sought to avoid: deep, prying questions. Every time a DTI agent spoke, Irril felt a cold stone settle in his stomach. They look for anomalies, he reminded himself. They look for things that don't belong in the timeline. He wasn't an anomaly, but his father’s legacy felt like a tear in the fabric of his own history. If they started scanning the ship’s logs for temporal displacement, would they look at the crew files too? Would they see the name Sharvo and find the stains he’d spent his entire career trying to scrub clean? He felt a sudden, irrational urge to check his PADD to ensure his security clearances were locked, his personal logs encrypted. But that would look suspicious.

Focus on the task, Irril told himself, grounding his thoughts in the immediate needs of the crew. The 2293 crew will need rations compatible with their digestive biotics. We need to check if the replicator patterns from eighty years ago are still in the archives. They'll be frightened. They don't know about the Dominion. The thought of the war, the real, bloody war waiting for them outside this temporal bubble, made the shimmering science officer next to him seem fragile.

"Captain," Irril said softly, his voice a calm anchor in the sea of theoretical physics and security posturing. He looked toward Rebecca Bluegarden, his loyalty clear. "Regardless of the DTI’s presence or lack thereof in 2293, we have twenty officers who are essentially displaced refugees on their own vessel. I recommend we prioritize a dual-sync of the internal sensors. If we can't see them, we can't help them if they 'phase' into a bulkhead." He caught himself, realizing he was speaking up more than usual. He lowered his gaze back to his PADD, his heart hammering against his ribs. Just be useful, he thought. Be so useful that no one thinks to ask where you came from or what your father did.

"I still can't believe it's only twenty." Rebecca sighed. "That don't make a lick of god damn sense."

To be continued...

Posting by

Captain Violet Bluegarden
Commanding Officer
USS The Sullivans
2373

Captain Rebecca Bluegarden
Commanding Officer
USS The Sullivans
2293

Commander Jason Reeves
Executive Officer
USS The Sullivans
2373

Lieutenant Commander Greyleth
Executive Officer
USS The Sullivans
2293

Lieutenant Commander Jo'ohn El'Ataa
Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS The Sullivans
2373

Lieutenant Commander Nathan Drake
Chief Security Officer
USS The Sullivans
2293

Lieutenant Commander Keeli Reex
Chief Science Officer
USS The Sullivans
2373

Lieutenant Elly Reex
Chief Science Officer
USS The Sullivans
2293

Lieutenant Commander Julian Wishmore
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS The Sullivans
2373

Lieutenant Irril Sharvo
Chief Operations Officer
USS The Sullivans
2373

Lieutenant Tugril
Chief Personnel Officer
USS The Sullivans
2293

Lieutenant Hikari Takanashi
Chief Engineer
USS The Sullivans
2373

Lieutenant Daniel James
Chief Engineer
USS The Sullivans
2293

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