“There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody’s expense but his own.”

Herman Melville, Moby Dick (1851)

Humanity had long enjoyed a difficult relationship with the Whale.

True, these serene and gentle leviathan’s of the deep occupied a position of focal societal import for many ancient cultures during the nascent historical climb of the human race from ape to apex – with the Whale being a venerated and important part of the social identity of peoples as diverse as the Polynesians, Inuit, Native – Americans and most of Scandinavia.

The image of the Whale was totemic, their influence upon these ancient cultures profound and deeply embedded in their shared cultural iconography and rite.

For their own part, howsoever, the impression that this humanistic adulation left upon the Whale went largely unrecorded – chiefly because no-one actually thought to ask them their opinion.

Therein lies the problem.

One of the most widely distributed and diverse group of fully aquatic placental marine mammals extent in the oceans of mankind’s own cradle of creation, the evident intelligence of these lords of the ocean was generally widely held and recognised by those who ruled the planet Earth in its ‘middle – teen’ years.

Descendants of the same land-dwelling mammals that the Homo – Sapiens eventually evolved from, the primitive cetaceans that would eventually become the Whale had held dominion over the deep for 49 million years before mankind finally climbed down from its tree and discovered that hitting another living being with a rock was a fine way to get ahead in the Human Race.

So, whilst the Whale was worshipped as the embodiment of spirituality and connection with the natural realm, those same tribes of humanity also exploited the Whale for meat, blubber and baleen – sacrificing the Whale upon the alter of their own superiority and primacy to survive.

Inevitably (as with so many things under the purview of man) this willful avarice perpetuated a cycle of mass consumption that led to the decline of the planet’s biosphere and the attendant scarcity of resources driven by the dying planet, eventually leading to the events of the Third World War in 2049 AD.

Of course, by then there were no more whales left to witness mankind’s downfall. Being intelligent creatures misconstrued by man as being without a voice, it is difficult to gauge what opinion the Whale may have had about this self – inflicted wound had they not been hunted to extinction, but it’s probably safe to posit that they would not overly mourn the Japanese.

Which (ironically) proved more than troublesome when, in 2286 AD, The United Federation of Planets was confronted by the unique dilemma of First Contact with a visiting Cetacean Deep Space probe that arrived in the Milky – Way to check up on their distant cousins – only to find that they had been entirely eradicated to the point of extinction.

Needless to say, they were far from impressed.

But, unlike Mankind, Cetaceans tend to take the long view and comparatively are far quicker to forgive transgressions than that of Man and (with a little help from a certain well – known Starfleet crew) disaster was narrowly averted and thus began the first nascent steps towards centuries of cooperation and understanding between the United Federation of Planets and the Cetaceans – who (embarrassingly) were proven to be a frighteningly sophisticated, warp – capable species who had travelled the void long before Humanity had stopped wiping its collective bottom with its own hands.

Which neatly brings us up to where we are today.

“It’s certainly…..big.” Captain Trevenan Williams commented in wan understatement as his voice canyoned around the looming space, dopplering back to him in sibilant waves that teased a diminishing echo of his last word  “big,big,big.big”

Commander Homel smiled broadly as his green fingers gripped the rail of the slim concourse that extended from the airlock that led to the Aquatic Operations Centre where his scientists worked and the Orion Chief Science Officer of the USS Vega nodded his balding pate and smiled from beneath the bristling greyish thatch of beard.

“It is, at that.” Homel conceded, his own voice returning to its owner as the pair surveyed the cavernous expanse of The Tank in what would be its empty state for the last time in the next 5 years. “At capacity the main biome is approximately 500,000 cubic meters and will accommodate nearly half a million tons of seawater – give or take, when you account for its occupants.”

Trevenan looked down over the edge of the rail to where the vast cylindrical space that spanned an entire 16 decks of the Lamarr – class’s internal volume. Designed to house the vessel’s Cetacean Guidance and Navigation Team.

“Remind me again why the “Tank” isn’t full right now?” The CO murmured softly as he fought to dispel an instinctive yaw of vertigo.

It was a strange and incongruous sight to see such an open space within the superstructure of a vessel, one that Williams never quite could get used to, but this was a small price to pay when weighed against the evident advantage of housing some of the most talented stellar cartographers and linguists available to enhance their mission of return to the Gamma Quadrant.

“You mean apart from Lieutenant Commander Werann complaining about the amount of EPS allocation it takes to power up the inertial – dampers necessary to ensure that half a million tons of seawater doesn’t slosh around and upset the trim of the vessel as it maneuvers at impulse?” Homel grinned as he slapped the rail happily and the pair moved back to the lock. The next time either of them would be in this position, it would be necessary to wear an EVA suit.

Trevenan smiled and winced theatrically at this. The USS Vega’s Bolian Chief of Engineering was notably acid – tongued when it came to any of the ship’s systems, which she presided over with near – absolute authority like some wrathful blue – skinned goddess of industry.

“A fate most assiduously avoided wherever possible.” The Captain nodded in sympathy.

“Simply put, it’s not only more energy efficient to uplift both The Navigator and the relative volume of seawater that it inhabits directly into the tank with the transporters, than it is to attempt to replicate that greater volume – in terms of the biomass required.” The CSO explained as Trevenan cycled the “Dry” – lock and they emerged into the busy circular space of the AOC.

Homel paused a moment  to look over the shoulder of a member of one of his science – team, his eyes passing over the data on her screen and satisfying himself with her work, before adding to the CO.

“It’s also a question of purity of biome.” Homel nodded. “The oceans of Risa are an almost textbook example of a pristine marine ecosystem. The volcanic forces that geologically formed the planet with both near – perfect biotic and abiotic factors. The Euphotic zone at surface levels received plenty of light and oxygen, are fairly warm and supports a wealth of photosynthetic organisms. That means that the water in which the Cetacean Guidance and Navigation Team live and work has a self – supporting biome and food source which requires only the minimum of supplementary filtration, recycling and food – production.”

Trevenan nodded. The AOC was a vast sweeping, donut – like space filled with bright screens and holographic displays, abounded by a single continuous window that mantled the space and would afford an unparalleled view of the aquatic environment where the Navigator and his team would reside during their long voyage of discovery.

“That’s a hell of a transport operation.” The CO conceded, trying to mentally calculate the complex computations that would be required to uplift 500,000 tons of seawater and a 40-ton male Humpback Whale via the ship’s transporter system.

“It’s certainly in the upper limit.” Commander Homel agreed. “ Lieutenant Hardy and his Ops team have been running simulations in preparation for the last 3 days straight and, between you and me, I don’t think that the presence of Translator R-Krittk have been doing much to sooth Jonell’s nerves. Even for a Dolphin, she has a rarified sense of humor.”

Trevenan had already met R-Krittk and he had to concede that this was indeed the case.

Whilst many Cetaceans served aboard ship as active members of Starfleet, the Guidance and Navigation Team assigned to accompany the USS Vega were civilian’s from the vaulted Cetacean Institute. Putting aside the natural misgivings that the United Federation of Planets harbored around such a tentative return to the GQ so many years after the cessation of hostilities that marked the end of the Dominion War, the vital mission of mapping out the relatively unexplored mass of the quadrant was deemed so strategically important that only the most accomplished should be assigned to the role.

By all accounts, the Navigator was the very best in his field.

And he was missing….

Location: USS Vega, Deck#1, Bridge.

Time: 15.58hrs

“Captain on deck!”

Trevenan exited the turbolift as the XO called the crew to attention.

“At ease.” Trevenan smiled as Commander Mason relinquished the command – chair and took her position to the Captain’s right – hand, swiveling the small ancillary console attached to its arm and activating it’s display.

As Captain Williams took his seat and assumed command of the USS Vega, the bright and iridescent – brilliant jewel of the pleasure – planet Risa hung in space, upon the viewscreen, an enthrallingly beautiful ocean – pearl hanging in the blackness of space.

“So, tell me Commander?” Trevenan turned to Janet and smiled wryly. “How exactly does one manage to misplace a forty – ton Whale?”

Janet Morgan levelled her dark eyes at her superior and refused to rise to the obviously baited – barb. She keyed a control on her console and a small, localized holo – display sprang into being before the two senior officers.

The holo depicted a birds eye view of Temtibi and with defy flicks of her slim fingers, Janet zoomed the image downwards until several large, graceful, long – ovoid shapes could be seen periodically breaching the crystal-clear waters that filled the warm, tropical lagoon to sup at its sweet air.

“We haven’t lost the Navigator, Sir.” Morgan explained dryly, “We know exactly where he is – he’s currently at this party.”

It was Trevenan’s turn to be wrongfooted.

“Did you just say a party?” He frowned.

Mason nodded her dark – fringed hair and confirmed.

“So, we are led to believe Captain. The real problem is that amongst these other Whales, we aren’t sure which one is him!” The XO admitted with some difficulty.

Trevenan was beginning to frame a response to this most unique of quandaries, when he was interrupted by a series of high – pitched whines and clicks that were rendered into intelligible speech courtesy of the Universal Translator.

<<“Oh! The answer to that particular question is easy, Commander Mason! He’ll be the one boring the fins off everyone else as he holds forth of the subject of Curvilinear variations in common Kinematic theory. He pretends to be quite the bore, but personally I think he derives ulterior pleasure in annoying the other party guests.”>>

This voice emanated from the semi – transparent lozenge of the “encounter – sphere” that Translator R-Krittk liked to use to ride around the non – aquatic areas of the USS Vega’s internal volumes (normally making a show of clumsily colliding with pedestrians every now and then for her own amusement), as the compact device drifted out of the turbolift.

It’s occupant was a smooth, grey/blue bottlenose dolphin that reposed in a nurturing sheath of seawater, as the rarified EVA device carried the Cetacean envoy level with the command – chair.

“Whales have parties?” Trevenan asked R-Krittk with fresh skepticism and the Translator regarded him with a single dark eye and her perpetual, toothy – smile.

<<”Who doesn’t love a good party, Captain?>> R-Krittk asked teasingly as she yawed her lithe, aerodyne body within the confines of her portable – aquarium, her equivalent of an easy shrug. <<”You have the look of a man not unused to cutting – loose once in a while, I’d wager? H’mmm?”>>

Trevenan regarded the dolphin flatly. He had served with Cetaceans previously in his career and was somewhat used to their playful nature and worldview, but Translator R-Krittk was in a class of her own. You were never sure whether the impish dolphin was mocking you or not.

“Translator, we seem to be having an issue identifying the Navigator due to the….festivities and were wondering if you could possibly assist us in locating him. We are on a rather tight schedule and need to depart if we are to make our rendezvous at Deep Space 9 to take Ambassador T’lan and her team onboard.”

<<” Oh! Captain! Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who think they all look the same!”>> the Translator chuckled to herself. <<”Locating the Navigator is the work of mere moments, the challenge will be in convincing him to leave the party. Humpbacks don’t party often, but when they do then they do it with everything they’ve got. Which, let me assure you, is quite a lot in the Navigator’s case!””>>

“I’m intrigued.” Commander Mason couldn’t help but interject. “What exactly do whales do at a party?” Trevenan shot his executive officer a look, but she persisted, nevertheless.

<<“Well…”>> R-Krittk considered this for a moment and then replied candidly. <<”Probably the same things most people do when they are on Risa. They swim (obviously), overeat, tell outrageously inflated stories to make themselves seem more interesting that they really are, indulge in dubious stimulants and have unadvisable sexual relations with complete strangers, I would imagine?”>>

This blunt admission caused more than one member of the bridge crew to pause in their duties and shoot an amused look at the ribald dolphin that hovered in her suit, smiling lasciviously (although it could reasonably be argued that dolphins were smiling all of the time).

“Whales get high!?” Janet asked incredulously.

R-Krittk laughed a chittering rill of clicking amusement as she replied.

<<“Well of course they do, Commander! After all, what happens on Risa, STAYS on Risa, right ?”>>

Janet blew her cheeks out, not quite sure how to follow such a loaded tidbit as that and Trevenan smoothly cut in.

“Nevertheless Translator, if you would be so good as to identify the Navigator and confirm his location with Lieutenant Hardy, we really do need to get the transport operation under way.”

<<”Very well.”>> The dolphin replied archly before adding. <<” But don’t say that you weren’t forewarned. He’s the fat one to the right that’s doing circles around the Narco – Buoy there and acting like a bloody calf at feeding – time!”>> She told the Ops Chief with some amusement and then departed the bridge to descent down to the AOC to formally greet her superior as the Navigator came aboard.

Lieutenant Jonell Hardy, a meticulous African – American young officer in his late 20’s, quickly confirmed.

“We have transporter lock on the Navigator, Captain. Standing by to transport the target and attendant surrounding mass to the Tank, on your command.”

Captain Trevenan Williams sighed, he had the funny feeling that this was going to be a very long voyage indeed, as far as Translator R-Krittk was concerned. He could only hope that the Navigator’s vaunted – skillset was all that it was cracked up to be, for all the relative effort involved in getting the Cetacean scientist onboard.

“Copy that Ops.” Trevenan commanded. “Energize!”

Location: USS Vega, Deck #14, Aquatic Operations Centre

Time: 16.11hrs

Commander Homel could not help but feel a fission of excitement run through his veins as all preparations were completed and the transport got underway.

The opportunity to be working alongside a specialist with a reputation as august of that of the Navigator was a peer – opportunity that any scientist would relish. To do so for such a protracted period was manna to an officer as impassioned about scientific discovery as Homel was and he could not help but imagine what wonders they would unlock together during their 5 – year voyage into the uncharted regions of the Gamma Quadrant?

His reverie was broken as Translator R-Krittk flowed into the AOC within her encounter – suit and came to rest, hovering gentle at his side.

“Ah! Translator!” Homel greeted jovially, his good cheer evident in his voice. “You’ve joined us just in time! The transport is just about to commence! A momentous day indeed!”

As he spoke, from beyond the arcing curve of the long window, the air inside the “Tank” began to swirl and shimmer with a brisciant dance of golden energy on a scale seldom witnessed as the powerful transporters engaged and applied themselves to the herculean task of uplifting the Navigator and the sea that immediately surrounded him and depositing this awesome load into the waiting space with pinpoint precision.

One moment there was 500,000 cubic meters of yawing open space, brightly lit before them. Then, moments later the vista was utterly transformed as that same space was instantly replaced with half a million tons of seawater that projected a shimmering undersea glow and in it’s midst was the majestic form of an adult male Megaptera novaeangliae, who hung balletically in the captive ocean with its distinctive body shape, with long sweeping pectoral fins and gnarled tubercles gracing its head.

A mesmerizing sight that had enthralled mankind for millennia.

Suddenly occluded from sight as the Whale was lost in an explosion of musty green suspension as the Navigator promptly vomited, clouding the water and polluting the tank.

Homel stood there aghast, totally at a loss for words.

Something Translator R-Krittk had never found herself being accused of, as she clicked with evident amusement.

<<“Well, someone’s partied a little too hearty then, haven’t they?”>>