A fifteen-minute opening to a television series that never existed.
The Quantum Mirror Archives — Recovered Television Event, 2004
TEASER
FADE IN:
EXT. DEEP SPACE — THE OUTER SOLAR SYSTEM
Blackness.
Not the theatrical blackness of a battlefield, filled with colorful explosions and rapidly passing spacecraft.
Real darkness.
A sparse field of distant stars.
Slowly, an object emerges from the shadow.
A spacecraft.
It is neither graceful nor intimidating.
Its forward section is a broad, slightly flattened observation module. Behind it stretches a long structural spine, supporting a cylindrical rotating habitat, equipment compartments and a pair of enormous propulsion assemblies.
The hull is ivory-colored, with faded orange identification markings, dark instrument housings and several awkwardly placed antennas.
Near the forward module, an enormous telescope assembly sits within a protective enclosure.
The ship resembles an observatory, an oceanographic research vessel and an unusually expensive recreational vehicle that has somehow been persuaded to cooperate.
Along the hull:
UNITED EARTH SCIENTIFIC SURVEY
UNS WAYFARER
A small antenna rotates toward a patch of sky.
We move closer.
An exterior window glows faintly red.
INT. WAYFARER — OBSERVATION CONTROL
The room is dark, illuminated by subdued red instrument lighting.
A large rectangular display occupies most of one wall. Thousands of stars are plotted against a dark background.
Several smaller monitors show spectral readings, object coordinates and a constantly updating catalog.
There are no command chairs, no tactical displays and no uniformed officers standing at attention.
Two astronomers sit at separate consoles.
A third is asleep in a chair, holding an empty coffee cup.
At the principal workstation, DR. AMARA OKONKWO, early thirties, studies a succession of images.
She wears a comfortable sweater, plain trousers and soft-soled shoes.
A half-eaten sandwich sits beside her keyboard.
A small electronic chime sounds.
OKONKWO: There you are.
She enlarges a section of the display.
A faint point of light appears against the star field.
OBSERVER: Another one?
OKONKWO: Possibly.
OBSERVER: That's the fifth tonight.
OKONKWO: Sixth. You missed the one at 0210.
OBSERVER: I was asleep.
OKONKWO: Yes. I noticed.
She selects another image.
The object has moved.
OBSERVER: Trans-Neptunian?
OKONKWO: Could be. Too early for an orbit.
She checks the observation log.
OBSERVER: Want another exposure?
OKONKWO: Three. And let's get the spectrometer on it before we move off the field.
The observer enters the commands.
A soft mechanical vibration passes through the room as the telescope changes position.
The sleeping astronomer opens one eye.
SLEEPING ASTRONOMER: Did we find something?
OKONKWO: Go back to sleep, Paul.
He does.
A wall clock changes to 03:17.
On the large display, the faint object becomes slightly brighter.
OBSERVER: That's interesting.
Okonkwo leans forward.
OKONKWO: What?
OBSERVER: The background correction. It's not fitting.
He brings up a second image.
OBSERVER: If that's the same object, it isn't where the previous measurements put it.
Okonkwo studies the display.
OKONKWO: Check the reference stars.
OBSERVER: Already did.
OKONKWO: Again.
He sighs and starts the procedure.
The communications panel chimes.
VALE (COMMS): Observation, Engineering. Your maneuver window opens in twenty minutes.
Okonkwo touches the intercom.
OKONKWO: Copy that.
VALE: I need the telescope secured before we bring up the drive.
OKONKWO: Can we have another hour?
A pause.
VALE: No.
OKONKWO: Forty minutes?
VALE: Amara.
OKONKWO: Thirty?
VALE: We've already postponed this twice.
She glances at the new images.
OKONKWO: We've got an interesting target.
VALE: You always have an interesting target.
OKONKWO: That's rather the point of an observatory, Tom.
VALE: The point of an observatory with engines is that occasionally the engines get to do something.
Okonkwo smiles.
OKONKWO: I'll let you know.
VALE: You have twenty minutes.
The connection closes.
The observer looks up.
OBSERVER: Think we'll get thirty?
OKONKWO: Probably forty-five.
CUT TO:
ACT ONE
INT. WAYFARER — GALLEY
Warm light.
A small, comfortable room with pale cream walls, burnt-orange upholstery and a large table bolted to the deck.
The furniture looks like something from an unusually well-equipped research ship.
An old-fashioned clock hangs above the coffee service.
The stars are visible through a small window, slowly revolving as the habitat rotates.
MARA VOSS, the ship's cook and quartermaster, is preparing breakfast.
She's in her fifties, practical, good-humored and clearly accustomed to managing people who are very intelligent about everything except looking after themselves.
At the table sits CAPTAIN MARA ELLISON, expedition director, reviewing a stack of reports.
Ellison is a scientist by training and a capable administrator by experience. Her title is largely conventional. The ship's scientific program is governed by its research consortium, and most operational decisions are made collectively.
She doesn't wear a uniform.
She wears a cardigan.
Voss puts a plate in front of her.
VOSS: Eat.
ELLISON: I'm reading.
VOSS: You can do both.
ELLISON: Have you ever tried reading a budget proposal while eating eggs?
VOSS: No. I've had a happier life than that.
Ellison picks up her fork.
ELLISON: What's our status?
VOSS: We've got enough fresh vegetables for another twelve days. The hydroponics people think they can give me lettuce by Friday. I'm not convinced.
ELLISON: Anything else?
VOSS: The water recycler needs a new filter. The coffee grinder's making that noise again. And we're expecting a visitor.
Ellison looks up.
ELLISON: Oh, hell.
VOSS: That's what I said.
ELLISON: Today?
VOSS: Eleven hundred.
Ellison checks her schedule.
ELLISON: I thought he wasn't coming until Thursday.
VOSS: Apparently the Vulcans have a different understanding of Thursday.
Ellison sets down her fork.
ELLISON: Has anyone made up his cabin?
VOSS: I have.
ELLISON: Food arrangements?
VOSS: I've received nine pages of dietary requirements.
ELLISON: Nine?
VOSS: Mostly restrictions. Apparently he's very healthy.
Ellison glances toward the window.
ELLISON: I hope he likes the ship.
Voss looks around.
VOSS: We do.
A low vibration passes through the compartment.
The stars outside continue their slow rotation.
VOSS: Assuming Tom doesn't shake it apart.
INT. WAYFARER — SYSTEMS OPERATIONS
A compact, busy control room.
Unlike Observation Control, the lighting is bright and functional.
Consoles monitor life support, power distribution, thermal systems, propulsion and supplies.
An engineer has removed a panel from a workstation.
A small container catches the screws.
At the central console, TOMAS VALE studies the propulsion status.
He is in his forties, experienced, extraordinarily competent and deeply suspicious of equipment that behaves perfectly on the first attempt.
A young technician sits beside him.
TECHNICIAN: The drive's ready.
VALE: It was ready yesterday.
TECHNICIAN: The scientists wanted another observing window.
VALE: Of course they did.
He studies the schedule.
VALE: We'll move after the Vulcan transport arrives.
TECHNICIAN: That'll put us behind.
VALE: We're always behind.
TECHNICIAN: Should I tell Observation?
VALE: No. Let them think they've won something.
The technician smiles.
TECHNICIAN: You know the visitor's bringing technical equipment?
VALE: I know.
TECHNICIAN: Any idea what?
VALE: Probably something elegant, expensive and impossible to repair with our tools.
A communication tone.
COMPUTER: Incoming vessel. Vulcan transport T'Varel. Estimated docking in eleven minutes.
Vale checks the docking systems.
VALE: Right. Let's see what the neighbors have brought us.
EXT. WAYFARER — SPACE
The human vessel hangs in the darkness.
A smaller spacecraft approaches.
The Vulcan transport is a beautiful contrast.
Its hull possesses a simple, graceful geometry. A broad ring-shaped propulsion assembly surrounds the central body, and the surface appears almost entirely free of external machinery.
Its movements are precise.
Beside it, the Wayfarer looks like an industrial research platform.
The Vulcan vessel approaches a docking collar near the human ship's central spine.
Tiny positioning jets flash.
The ships join with a soft metallic shudder.
INT. WAYFARER — DOCKING COMPARTMENT
Ellison waits with Okonkwo.
The inner hatch opens.
DOCTOR SOREL, a Vulcan scientific adviser and physician, enters carrying a modest personal case.
He is middle-aged by Vulcan standards, impeccably dressed, and possesses the expression of a man who has already identified several deficiencies in his surroundings.
Ellison offers her hand.
ELLISON: Doctor Sorel. Welcome aboard.
He shakes it politely.
SOREL: Captain Ellison. I appreciate your hospitality.
ELLISON: We're glad to have you. This is Dr. Okonkwo, our chief astrometric specialist.
SOREL: Doctor.
OKONKWO: Welcome to the Wayfarer.
Sorel looks around.
SOREL: A most interesting vessel.
ELLISON: She's a little unconventional.
SOREL: I had observed that.
Ellison chooses to regard this as a compliment.
ELLISON: We've arranged a cabin for you. I'll show you around.
SOREL: Thank you.
They proceed down the passage.
INT. WAYFARER — TRANSFER CORRIDOR
The corridor is cylindrical, with handholds along the walls.
Small illuminated arrows indicate the direction of the rotating habitat.
A hatch ahead bears the label:
HABITATION — ROTATING SECTION
Sorel stops.
SOREL: Captain?
ELLISON: Yes?
SOREL: Is that compartment in motion?
ELLISON: The habitat? Yes.
SOREL: At what velocity?
ELLISON: Just over four revolutions a minute. Gives us roughly one gravity at the outer deck.
Sorel studies the hatch.
SOREL: I see.
Ellison smiles.
ELLISON: You'll get used to it.
Sorel considers this statement.
SOREL: That remains to be established.
The hatch opens.
INT. WAYFARER — ROTATING HABITAT
The transition is gradual.
Sorel moves carefully along the corridor as the apparent gravity increases.
His steps become uncertain.
He stops.
A slight expression of discomfort crosses his face.
Okonkwo notices.
OKONKWO: Doctor, are you all right?
SOREL: Perfectly.
He turns toward her.
Immediately catches the handrail.
ELLISON: Something wrong?
SOREL: Nothing serious.
He takes a controlled breath.
SOREL: Your gravity system is based upon centrifugal acceleration.
ELLISON: That's right.
SOREL: An ingenious arrangement.
ELLISON: Thank you.
SOREL: For a developing spacefaring civilization.
Okonkwo glances at Ellison.
ELLISON: Uh-huh.
Sorel straightens his jacket.
SOREL: Captain, I hesitate to criticize the engineering accomplishments of your people.
ELLISON: But?
He looks around the curved corridor.
SOREL: Squirrel cages are hardly suitable accommodations for mature, civilized interstellar travel.
A silence.
From a nearby open maintenance panel, a technician slowly raises his head.
TECHNICIAN: Did he just call the ship a squirrel cage?
OKONKWO: I believe so.
SOREL: I intended no offense. It is simply a descriptive comparison.
Ellison looks at him.
ELLISON: Doctor, we've been living aboard quite comfortably for six months.
SOREL: An impressive demonstration of human adaptability.
He takes another step.
Stops.
SOREL: I would like to sit down.
INT. WAYFARER — GALLEY
Sorel sits upright at the table.
Voss places a glass of water before him.
VOSS: Here you are.
SOREL: Thank you.
She studies him.
VOSS: You don't look well.
SOREL: I am experiencing a temporary vestibular disturbance.
VOSS: Motion sickness?
SOREL: That is an oversimplification.
VOSS: Seasick, then.
SOREL: I am not at sea.
VOSS: Close enough.
She puts a small plate beside his glass.
VOSS: Ginger biscuits. Try one.
Sorel examines the biscuit.
SOREL: What is ginger?
VOSS: Something that might help you keep your lunch down.
Sorel considers this.
He takes one.
Ellison is trying very hard not to smile.
SOREL: Captain, I wish to contact the vessel that brought me here.
ELLISON: Of course.
Sorel activates his communicator.
SOREL: Sorel to T'Varel.
VULCAN OFFICER: Go ahead, Doctor.
SOREL: Delay your departure. I require a standard auxiliary gravitational field generator, suitable for installation in a human research vessel.
Ellison freezes.
Voss slowly looks up.
VULCAN OFFICER: Doctor, that equipment was not included in your transfer authorization.
SOREL: I am aware.
VULCAN OFFICER: It will be necessary to obtain approval from the Science Directorate.
SOREL: Then obtain it.
VULCAN OFFICER: The installation may delay our scheduled departure.
SOREL: That is preferable to the alternative.
He closes the communicator.
Ellison stares at him.
ELLISON: Doctor, what exactly have you ordered?
SOREL: A gravitational field generator.
ELLISON: For our ship?
SOREL: Naturally.
Voss looks at the rotating stars outside the window.
VOSS: What's wrong with the one we've got?
Sorel considers the question.
SOREL: It rotates.
INT. WAYFARER — CONFERENCE ROOM
A pleasantly furnished meeting room with a large rectangular table, comfortable chairs and a display wall.
It resembles the boardroom of a scientific institution more than the bridge of a spacecraft.
Ellison, Okonkwo, Vale and Sorel are gathered around a schematic of the habitat.
Vale has just arrived.
He is not happy.
VALE: You ordered a what?
SOREL: A gravity generator.
VALE: I know what it is. Why?
SOREL: The rotating habitat produces an unacceptable physiological response.
VALE: In who?
SOREL: In me.
Vale looks toward Ellison.
VALE: You called me down here because the new guy gets dizzy?
ELLISON: Tom.
SOREL: The condition is not merely dizziness. The rotational environment produces significant vestibular conflict when—
VALE: I know what the Coriolis effect is.
SOREL: Then you understand the problem.
VALE: Yes. I understand that we spent eighteen months building a perfectly good rotating habitat and you want to stop it because you don't like going around in circles.
SOREL: A succinct, if somewhat imprecise, summary.
Vale opens his mouth.
Ellison raises a hand.
ELLISON: Tom, what would the installation involve?
Vale studies the schematic.
VALE: Depends on the generator. We'd have to stop the habitat, redistribute some of the structural loads, change parts of the environmental system and probably rebuild half the power distribution network.
SOREL: I understand Vulcan technicians can assist.
VALE: I'm sure they can.
SOREL: The technology is well established.
VALE: So is a bicycle. That doesn't mean I want one installed in the engine room.
Okonkwo is attempting to conceal a smile.
ELLISON: Could we keep the rotating system as a backup?
Vale looks at the diagram.
VALE: Probably. But we'd need a proper engineering review.
SOREL: That would be prudent.
Vale stares at him.
VALE: Thank you for the suggestion.
Ellison looks between the two men.
ELLISON: All right. Nobody starts taking the ship apart until we've reviewed the specifications.
Sorel nods.
SOREL: Agreed.
ELLISON: And Doctor?
SOREL: Yes, Captain?
ELLISON: Next time you decide to renovate our spacecraft, would you mind mentioning it first?
Sorel considers the request.
SOREL: That would be reasonable.
Vale folds his arms.
VALE: Wonderful. Civilization advances.
INT. WAYFARER — OBSERVATION CONTROL — LATER
The room has returned to its dim red lighting.
Okonkwo is back at her station, studying the moving object discovered earlier.
On the large display, several observations have been combined into a preliminary trajectory.
She frowns.
OKONKWO: That can't be right.
She checks the figures.
Then brings up an independent set of measurements.
They agree.
Sorel enters quietly.
He has changed into more comfortable clothing, though he still moves with exaggerated care.
SOREL: Doctor Okonkwo?
OKONKWO: Yes?
SOREL: Captain Ellison suggested that I familiarize myself with your scientific program.
OKONKWO: Come on in.
She gestures toward an empty chair.
Sorel sits.
He notices the object on the display.
SOREL: What are you observing?
OKONKWO: Something out beyond Neptune. We thought it was another small body.
SOREL: Thought?
OKONKWO: Take a look at the astrometry.
She enlarges the image.
Sorel studies the measurements.
A long moment passes.
SOREL: Your positional data are inconsistent.
OKONKWO: That's what we thought.
SOREL: Have you checked the calibration?
OKONKWO: Three times.
SOREL: And the reference stars?
OKONKWO: Four.
Sorel leans closer.
SOREL: Interesting.
Okonkwo smiles.
OKONKWO: That's what I said.
She activates a sequence of observations.
The faint object moves against the background stars.
Then, very slightly, its trajectory changes.
Sorel sits upright.
SOREL: That is not a gravitational perturbation.
OKONKWO: No.
SOREL: Nor does it appear to be a natural outgassing event.
OKONKWO: Nope.
He studies the display.
SOREL: Have you considered the possibility that the object is artificial?
OKONKWO: I was hoping you wouldn't say that.
SOREL: Why?
OKONKWO: Because if it's artificial, someone built it. And if someone built it, someone might be out there operating it.
Sorel says nothing.
Okonkwo leans back.
OKONKWO: And we're supposed to be the only ship out here.
A soft chime sounds.
COMPUTER: Updated trajectory available.
The display changes.
The object has altered its course again.
It is now moving toward the Wayfarer's projected route.
Okonkwo and Sorel exchange a look.
SOREL: Doctor?
OKONKWO: Yes?
SOREL: I believe we should inform Captain Ellison.
Okonkwo reaches for the intercom.
OKONKWO: I think you're right.
She pauses.
OKONKWO: You know, for a man who doesn't like this ship very much, you seem awfully interested in what we're finding.
Sorel looks back at the display.
SOREL: On the contrary, Doctor. I find your vessel's scientific capabilities quite impressive.
A beat.
SOREL: It is merely the accommodations that are primitive.
Okonkwo laughs.
The camera moves toward the central display.
The unknown object continues its slow, deliberate approach.
CUT TO BLACK.
STAR TREK: THE NEAR FRONTIER
Opening titles.
What the first fifteen minutes establish
The Wayfarer is not a military vessel, and its crew are not trained to regard every unexpected observation as a potential attack.
Its scientists are curious, sometimes argumentative, and very good at what they do.
The ship is comfortable but imperfect, possessing both remarkable scientific instruments and an experimental propulsion system that its engineers have learned to treat with appropriate suspicion.
Its rotating habitat is an entirely satisfactory solution to the problem of artificial gravity—until an unexpectedly fastidious Vulcan arrives and demands something better.
And the visiting Vulcan is neither a villain nor a benevolent master.
He is an experienced scientist, accustomed to a more technologically mature civilization, who may ultimately discover that his human colleagues are considerably more capable than he anticipated.
The opening mystery is deliberately modest.
Something has been observed in the outer Solar System.
It is moving in a way the astronomers cannot explain.
And it may have noticed them.
The episode has not yet established whether the object is dangerous, friendly, ancient, recently constructed, or even occupied.
The scientists have only one reliable piece of information.
It is worth investigating.
And that is enough to begin.
The Quantum Mirror Archives is a fictional alternate-history project. This imagined 2004 television screenplay is an independent, unofficial work of Star Trek fan fiction, not a historical production or recovered script.
