Captain to the bridge. We’re getting close to the anomaly, Sir. Came Bema’s voice over the intercom. Scott sighed and stood. He deposited his meal dishes in the replicator, straightened his uniform, and headed for the bridge. The doors opened with a quiet hiss, and Scott stepped into the tense silence that seemed to fill the space. The stars were still stretched into lines on the main viewer, indicating they hadn’t dropped out of warp yet. Scott crossed to his chair in the middle of the bridge and sat down.

“Any word from the other ships yet, Number one?” He asked as he settled.

“None yet. Which is good news.” Bema replied. “If there were any Klingons in the area, they would let us know.”

As if on cue, the communications officer turned their chair slowly to look at Captain Bowman. “Sir, we’ve gotten a report from the Pontiac. They’ve caught a glimpse of a Klingon Bird of Prey. It hasn’t spotted us yet, but if it gets any closer, it’ll pick us up on long range scans.”

“Well, that’s less than ideal.” Bema said from his chair.

“Really, Bema? Right now?” Scott asked shortly, turning to face his First Officer.

“If not right now Scott, then when?” he returned, with a smile.

Scott shook his head, but smiled despite himself.  “Leave it to you to be a smart-ass at every opportunity. Ezra, how far away from the anomaly are we?” Scott asked, directing his gaze to his Alpha Pilot.

“About ten minutes.” Ezra replied, turning his chair to look at the Captain. “Sir, are we sure this is going to work?”

“We can’t be sure about anything, Ensign.” Bowman replied, “But we have to believe it will work, because the other option is scuttle the ship and adjust to life in the 23rd century.”

Ezra didn’t answer, he just turned his chair back to his console and resumed gazing out the viewscreen. Tense silence again filled the space as everyone waited to arrive at the anomaly. Minutes passed like hours as everyone stared determinedly at the viewscreen. Finally, Ezra’s voice broke the silence.  “Captain,” he said, “We’re here.”

Scott stood up. “Drop us out of warp, Ensign.” he ordered. “Open a channel to the other ships.”

“Channel open, Captain.”

“Attention, Captains.” Scott began, “We are about to attempt to re-enter the anomaly. With any luck, we will be transported back to our own time. In that case, Thank you all for your assistance. If it doesn’t work, I’ll ask for a little more help to scuttle our ship before those Klingons catch wise, and to make some room for my crew aboard your ships.” Responses of affirmation were quickly returned, and the channels fell silent once again.

“Ezra, get us in front of this thing.” ordered the Captain.

“Yes, Sir.” Ezra responded immediately. His fingers danced on the conn and the ship began to move into the path of the anomaly. When the ship came to a stop, Scott addressed the ship, informing them of the intended plan, and told all hands to brace. The sections reported in the affirmative, including a colorful, yet crude suggestion to keep the sickbay patients in their beds this time.

Captain Bowman, this is Captain de la Cruz. We’ve picked up Birds of Prey on long range sensors! It was only for a split second as they dropped out of warp, but it looks like three or four. If you’re gonna go, you should go now!

“Roger that, Captain. Ezra, get us into that anomaly, full impulse. I’m not hanging around any longer.” The ship moved forwards suddenly but gracefully as the sub light engines fired up. Scott sat down in his chair, gripping the arms tightly to avoid getting tossed again. The ship began to shake and pitch violently again as it met the event horizon. Flashes and swirls of blue and purple strobed across the viewscreen. Bema was launched from his chair, landing hard on the floor under the navigation chair.

Eventually, as before, the pitching and shaking slowed, and then stopped. The viewscreen filled with inky blackness, dotted with countless stars. “Well, that could have gone better.” Bema said as he stood up slowly, nursing his right arm.

“No. you get down to Sickbay, have the doctor fix you up.” Scott said, watching Bema move to resume his seat beside the captain,  “And someone please figure out if that worked.” he added to the rest of the room.

“You know what he will say when I get there, don’t you?” Bema scoffed, heading towards the turbolift.

“Of course.” Scott mused, “He’ll tell you you should have worn your seatbelt. He’s right, you know.”

“I know, I just hate the way he always says it.” Bema replied with a smile.

“I mean, you should wear your seatbelt though.” Scott said with a chuckle,  “This isn’t even the first time it’s happened.”

“Oh, shut up.” Bema retorted, adding hastily, “Respectfully, of course, Captain.” With that, he entered the turbolift, and the doors closed behind him with a soft hiss.

“Captain, we’re being hailed. Multiple hails, in fact.” said the communications officer. “One is from the director of Delta Outpost 11. Looks like we made it back alright.”

“Prioritize that one, Ensign, if you don’t mind.” Bowman said, straightening his uniform.

The director’s face appeared on the viewer, his features twisted in both anger, and concern. “Captain Bowman, thank goodness you’ve finally turned up. We’ve been expecting this shipment for a week now. What in the world has kept you?”

“Apologies, Director.” Scott said diplomatically. “We had an unanticipated detour.”

“Is everyone alright, Captain?” asked the director.

“Yes. A little shaken, but no worse for wear. We will begin the transport of your supplies immediately, with your permission, director.” Scott replied.

“Yes please, Captain.” said the director, adding, “There is an Admiral that showed up here looking for you. I expect he will be more interested in what happened than I.”

The din of the lounge was getting louder as Scott wandered back to his table carrying a handful of drinks. he placed them down on the table, and resumed his seat, surrounded by his core staff.

“Okay Scott, spill it.” Vail said, picking up her glass and taking a drink. “What did the admiral want?”

“Well,” Scott started, “mostly just a debrief about what went on, honestly.”

“Was that everything?” Garion asked before taking a long sip of his beer.

“No.” Scott said flatly. “We are to return to Starbase 21. It seems the Admiral feels our talents are being underutilized.”

“What the hell does that mean?” asked Sriarr, “They’re not splitting us up, are they?”

“I have no idea, but we have been told we must be underway in 8 hours. So I suggest we all finish our drinks and get back to the ship.” Scott said, taking another drink from his glass of bourbon. “Oh yea, I almost forgot.” He pulled a small box from his pocket and slid it across the table to Ezra. “We’ll do an official ceremony when we get to 21, but congratulations Lieutenant.”

Ezra opened the box, and pulled out his new pip. “Thanks, Captain.” he said, beaming as he pinned it to his collar.  The table whooped and cheered, taking turns to congratulate him and slap him on the back. Tom Sargent bought another round for the table. After their drinks, they headed back to the San Jose for some rest before setting off to Starbase 21, and whatever awaited them there.