Prologue: The Sonoreans - novatonemusic/voyager-wiki GitHub Wiki

“Surely flight control isn’t much further; such an elaborately constructed ship, yet the path to its bow is this… unkempt?” a tired and astonished Reese proclaimed to himself. Having managed only three to four hours of sleep, the restless young trainee had grown irritable from the excessive commute to his first hands-on lesson.

The aspiring pilot-to-be had failed to notice his mentors' summons letter until well after he and his colleagues had been meant to turn in for the night. Reese had assumed that at least one full day had lain between him and the prospect of operating the ship—an opportunity he had dreamed of for years—which had only exacerbated the butterflies in his stomach.

The time he had been relying on to gather his thoughts and settle into a calmer mindset had been pulled out from under him, which had left the young man perturbed and sleep-deprived as he had wandered the extremities of the ship. Being late to that training exercise had not been an option, though it had begun to feel inevitable.

After being granted admittance by the Tier 3 guards protecting the entrance to the bow, Reese had found himself subjected to a hazing—a frowned-upon yet preserved tradition for all greenhorns. He had planned to report their misconduct upon his arrival, especially the jet-black-haired man who had threatened him.

"Hey, skipper! You see… I have a date with a little blonde note after my shift. Promised her everything would go smoothly. We know what you’re up to, Reese. I’ve heard rumors about how thoughtless you can be. If you end up killing us all, kid, you had better apologize to her," the guard shouted sternly as Reese was allowed in, causing him to feel even more unsettled. As he continued forward down the hall, the bustling sounds of his fellow crew members and residents slowly faded, until only his own uneasy thoughts remained.

For what had felt like far too long to make sense of, he had traversed lifeless hallways and locked rooms, some of which, when he had peered into them, had seemed to be entirely unused and fallen into disrepair. The eerie condition of the ship had not been his number one concern, though, as nerves had crept up on him preceding his orientation, and at that point, he had assumed the map provided to him had faulted.

Soon enough, however, he stumbled upon the sealed metal door marked clearly on his palmgrid.

“This had better be it, please spare me this once”, he muttered softly. "Miss Vega did assure me this should work…" Reese fumbled around his uniform pocket for the temporary badge that had been delegated to him by Commander Vega earlier in the week.

Only "Stellar Tier" crew members (and those permitted access by said tier—an extremely rare occurrence) were allowed to wander around the corridors this far into the vessel's inner workings. Just shy of a dozen or so people aboard the ship had such clearance, however, and it became obvious as the young man strode past room after room that was seemingly vacant or underutilized.

Reese had been granted provisional Stellar Tier clearance as a result of his apprenticeship, mentored by the great Vega herself. As he procured the badge card depicting a star-shaped symbol from his crew jacket, he firmly placed it against the lock, and a loud metallic click reverberated throughout the hall as the door opened inward, revealing the Voyager’s flight deck—a sight he couldn't help but be in awe of.

He had seen diagrams during lectures, as well as the occasional blurry photo or two taken by a now-expelled colleague of his, but he had never expected such attention to detail. The cabin itself had been a true work of art, the pinnacle of Sonorean design and engineering. Flight control had looked to be meticulously crafted—a cursory glance had been all it took to settle his nerves somewhat, knowing that his training module had been set up in much the same fashion.

In a hollow attempt to distract from his tardiness, Reese picked up a talking point that he and his mentor had closed off during his prior session with her, after being thoroughly sure that the subject matter wasn’t present. The intern made his way to the chairs where he suspected the Commander might be, and sure enough, to his left was his teacher, who seemed to be lost in thought.

“Should we truly be distancing ourselves this much from our prime objective, solely on account of her, Miss Vega?” he asked.

A few awkward seconds passed with no response.

Reese doubled down, trying to snap the woman out of her daydream. Positioning himself beside her exquisitely fashioned chair, he continued.

“Clearly, I acknowledge her leadership and frankly admire it; otherwise, I wouldn’t put an ounce of trust in her mentoring. But don’t you think she’s maybe… kege dasiko are? Lost the plot a bit? I mean, you of all people should have some semblance of what goes on in her m—”

“It’s not my place to judge or speak ill of our allegiant crew, especially our honorable Captain,” began a vaguely feminine, digital voice emitting directly from the ship’s console, which made Reese’s heart skip a beat. “Nonetheless, our trainee has a point. I cannot underestimate how much these fruitless years have changed my dear Calliope. Though, any human in her shoes would quickly be driven mad with hopelessness if determination turned their desires to dust. I believe it would be wise to confront her and…”

“No,” Vega finally broke her silence, having snapped with a tone somewhere between anxiousness and confidence. “She is my Captain. Our Captain. I have no choice in this matter. If Calliope envisions a benefit to us on N3-01, then it is my responsibility as her second-in-command to assist her in this endeavor, no matter how much I question it.” She stood up and turned to look her apprentice in the eyes.

“And for the record, Mr. Tremolo, you won’t accomplish much aboard this ship without acceptance of her ways. Believe me.” Looking up, she sought to clear her mind once again before stress overtook it.

Vega had worked alongside the Voyager’s Captain for years, emerging from her status as a mere crew member and obtaining the full, unbridled trust of the esteemed Sonorean official. With a demeanor that had ordinarily been hard to read for anyone other than Calliope herself, she, too, had become increasingly unstable. Having to contemplate the actions of her superior around the clock had not been particularly kind to the otherwise unshaken mental state of the middle-aged woman.

Her appearance however, had not faltered in its sharpness. Rarely could she be spotted in any uniform other than the one she favored the most: pitch-black stilettos and tight-fit leather leggings, and a long-sleeved quilted jacket of the same material in bright white, which complimented her dark skin tone. The Sonorean insignia, a double-struck circle, embroidered onto the left shoulder and right wrist of the jacket, and the medallion representing her status as Co-Captain sewn onto the right side of its chest, opposite the zipper.

“Anyways, you’re late. Reason being?” Vega questioned her pupil.

“I, uh… the map directions weren’t exactly clear, and the route here was confusing.” He hesitated to bring up receiving the request after hours, believing that taking full blame would lessen the severity of his punishment.

Vega, however, silently raised a finger to point out Reese’s obliviousness. Above him was a glass skyway, which led into the room via two sleek black staircases, and the tone of her body language told him that making a fool out of him was his punishment.

“Don’t delay me again. You’re being trained to fulfill one of the most tremendously important positions aboard this ship, you cannot be irresponsible with your crewmates post-shift any longer.” she sternly ordered, as she let her hand fall.

“Sorry, Miss Vega… If you don’t mind me asking, who was that voice?” Reese asked, curious about the sound from earlier.

“Alaris, the vessel's intelligence system. It’s served the Captain’s family for generations—which is why I’m surprised it’s not more biased toward her,” Vega explained, pacing the floor of the room, her stilettos clicking the floor in rhythm.

“So, like an AI?”

“Yes,” she stated. “But vastly superior to any other I’ve come across. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was alive. Now then, your time here is brief, so we must begin. You’re familiar with this flight panel arrangement, correct?” She gestured to the control deck.

“Of course, the modules I’ve been training in seem to be based exactly on this structure. It seems to have just a few minor discrepancies from what I’m seeing.” Reese said as he walked up to inspect it closer.

“Good. This lesson should be fairly rudimentary then. Have a seat, Mr. Tremolo.” she insisted.

In an instant, Reese’s nerves swarmed back as he realized he was now in control of his entire people. All the young man had ever known was this ship, having never stepped foot outside of it, or even knowing anyone who had. The fear of causing the destruction of his kind from just a simple miscalculation or rash decision on his part caused his anxiety to peak, and his hands to tremble as he took his seat in the pilot’s chair.

Reese, as with nearly all members of the ship, had never seen an actual view of any celestial body before. The windows in his cabin were nearly fully opaque, allowing only the slimmest amount of light through, and the rare occasional view of the stars. Being overwhelmed was quite the understatement.

“Are you confident I’m ready for this, Miss Vega?” the young man asked cautiously.

“Relax, dear. There’s not a single celestial body within substantial range of this ship. If you’d manage to collide with anything, it’d be a miracle.” She jokingly stated, feeding off the fear she knew her apprentice had been feeling.

“But I—,” turning back to the window, he spotted a bright crimson speck far in the distance. Having initially brushed it off as just a peculiar looking star, or perhaps space dust, the trainee felt his confidence gradually rise again. However, before Vega had gathered her materials and began to instruct Reese, the speck became a large dot.

Pointing out the anomaly, Reese nervously questioned, “I don't mean to doubt your methods, Miss Vega, but are you sure this is nothing?”.

“I assure you, I've already made certain…” She paused as she quickly stepped to the window, stunned at the possibility that her careful calculations had been wrong. “That's impossibl—”

“Quiet in the flight deck!” a voice loudly demanded from the skyway previously pointed out to Reese. The sound of platform boots clicking down the steel staircase reverberated throughout the room as she advanced into the deckhouse. “We’re approaching the target's location in approximately 3 minutes. You, trainee, back to the cabin, your shift is over. Where is our pilot?!”

“Miss Calliope, what exactly is that?” Reese asked, hoping to learn more about life beyond the ship.

Rolling her eyes, she reluctantly provided a quick response. “That, young child, is N3-01. It is one of a vast number of worlds born out of the demise of our own, Sonorii. This specimen, in particular, is most certainly the remnant of a region of Homeworld known as the Strid, an area not fit for human presence. It was designated as a prison for the world’s most heinous criminals, a place where they would know only suffering and be stripped of any and all ability to draw out tonica from the world. It's a shame the worst of them all never woke up to find themselves trapped there.” She clenched her fist in regret.

“Commander, my trainee is in the middle of a very important exercise, what seems to be more important than this?” Vega directly questioned her superior to her face with authority.

“My job, Miss Vega. Now if you would please, excuse your student.”

Reluctantly, Vega motioned her apprentice to the door upstairs. Reese dipped his head and made his way out of the cockpit, visibly annoyed at his Captain. Vega sat and swiveled her chair to confront the discourteous Captain, as she locked eyes with her, waiting for the young boy to exit before she raised her voice.

“Perhaps you could clue us in on what the hell you think you’re doing with our time and resources,” she snapped.

Calliope, having seemingly ignored the crassness of Vega’s remonstration, quickly turned her attention to the control panel. “In due time, Miss Vega. For now, I have an undertaking I must see to. I trust that as my next-in-line, you will not catechize me while moluni’a. Now, where is that damned pilot!?”

Exposing himself from what was presumably his personal quarters, the vessel’s pilot stumbled drunkenly to his chair, taking control of the ship for this operation. Sleep-deprived, holding a half-eaten slice of toast, and wearing only about three-quarters of his unwashed uniform, he had little time for preparation and began the manual operation of the Voyager. “Killing main thrusters. Voyager entering manual hover mode,” he said groggily, trying his best to sober up from his hangover.

“Glad to know nothing’s changing about our pilot’s demeanor once you retire,” Vega quipped.

“ARU! Caine! Nugu! You were meant to be at your position nearly an hour ago! Consider yourself lucky that young trainee Reese hasn’t completed his apprenticeship, or you’d be back swabbing our crew’s quarters again!” the apprehensive Captain shouted at her mistreated navigator.

“Yes, Madam Capt—”

“Silence,” Calliope snapped, cutting him off.

“Absolutely no respect for schedules. None!” Vega muttered under her breath, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

“Thirty seconds, make ready the vessel for our objective. Alaris, do you have a copy?” she asked.

“At your command, Madam Captain. This is quite an atypical stop—unscheduled as well,” Alaris stated after waking up. Vega shifted her head to hide her grin, catching the dig at Calliope.

Alaris continued. “Is there any particular reason wh—”

“None more than a bit of curious eavesdropping, Alaris. Now, please, hush,” Calliope interrupted again, making the short walk to the front window of the ship. The Sonorean adjusted her collar and insignia before placing her hands behind her back in anticipation of the mission at hand.

“Eavesdropping? You mean to tell me that’s what you came all this way to do? There are time-sensitive duties we need to attend to and instead we’re just meant to ignore them so you can be a fly-on-the-wall to some Volgranians? ” Vega interrogated her boss angrily.

“I said silence, lido,” the Voyager Captain sternly enforced upon Vega. Glancing at the unique scene around her and taking in the sight of the rugged, unstable world of Volgrana, which the ship wasted no time approaching, she succeeded in locating her target, thanks to a carefully calculated heat signature.

“I’ve found you, but how, and what circumstances would bring you here?” the Captain pondered quietly to herself. Far below on Volgranian soil, two figures could be spotted, and Calliope’s keen eye sensed who they were almost immediately.

“Alaris, record an External Vessel Audio Log,” the Commander directed her artificial assistant.

“Recording EVAL #73914”. The flight deck filled with the ambient sound of the harsh environment below, along with a distinct voice, though what was being said proved extremely difficult to discern:

“░░░░░░ It is once again attempting ░░░░░░░░, and the ░░░░░░░░ have weakened. Furthermore, it seems to ░░░░░░░░░ find. ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ for ages. But it matters not any longer if their strength ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ be the one to restore their energy and keep it dormant. ░░░░ believe you are ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ your last chance, ░░░ If you don’t back out now, you must succeed, or you will be the first ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ death in life.”

“Fascinating. Alaris, halt recording.” Calliope demanded of Alaris.

“Recording terminated.” the system corroborated.

“So, she has it now. Well, Miss Luna, it would seem that your time has finally come,” she firmly whispered to herself.